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strangermask · 8 months ago

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WOOO NINJAGO FIRST ELEMENTAL MASTERS SHORT FIC

Ninjago: The First Elemental Masters

Night Light

Synopsis: The first elemental masters were separated from First Spinjitzu Master and are forced to take shelter in a grundle hole. Now the four sit around a fire, unsure of what to say to each other:

Word Count: 2,532

Author’s Note: This is set near the very beginning where they all barely know each other. We get to see them bond for the first time in their journey together.

— — — — —

The elemental masters got separated from First Master during a battle with some bandits. The four acquired minor injuries during the fight, and now they were trying to find shelter. It did not help that it was raining as well. “Dragons, could they not have picked a better day for this?” Akiharu asked.

“Oh, do not complain!” Yoshimochi scolded. “Bandits never pick a day to accommodate their targets.”

“Oh forgive me, your nobleness.”

“Can both of you be quiet?” Yukito asked. “We are not here to discuss our misfortune, we need to find a place to recover.”

“What place could we recover in!?” Akiharu asked. “In case you have not taken in our surroundings, there are nothing but trees!”

“Over here.” Sai said, grabbing Akiharu’s hand. The serpent took the human down a hole, the other two companions following out of panic. “Stay behind me.”

Sai grabbed a purple fruit with blue polka-dots from his bag and squashed it. He spread the juices at the entrance of the hole. He snapped his fingers, making a small fire, then lit up the entrance. Immediately, a horrendous smell emitted through the hole.

“By Overlord, what in the cursed realm is that smell?” Yukito asked.

“Do not worry, you will get usssssed to it.” Sai answered. “It will keep usssss sssssafe.”

“From what?”

“Grundlesssss. Thissssss issssss a Grundle hole—”

“This is a what?”

“I know it sssssoundsssss bad, but I have come to learn a few tricksssss to avoid them. For example, they only hunt at night due to their eyesssss being sssssensssssitive to the daylight. With that, I’ve noticed they tend to sssssteer away from thessssse fruitsssss I found. If you sssssquisssssh the fruit and light the juicesssss, it givesssss off a sssssmell that wardsssss them off.”

“I can see why.” Yoshimochi said. “It smells like a rotting corpse.”

“Exactly! They already avoid it without the sssssmell, ssssso why would they bother usssss now?”

“… You seem quite excited about this.”

“Oh, uh, apologiesssss. I sssssuppossssse I got a bit carried away. I-I will make a fire now.”

A fire was started. The four were surrounding it, not saying anything to each other. To be honest, there was not much to say. They don’t know each other well, having been selected randomly by the elements. They were all too different from each other. A son of a nobleman, a peasant from the streets, a demon of cold, and a serpentine prince. What common ground could you find?

However, the curiousity in Akiharu grew more and more about the serpentine prince.

“Alright, I cannot take it much longer.” He spoke. “How do you know so much about grundles? Is that a common predator in your lands?”

“O-Oh, uh,” Sai cleared his throat, “not entirely. Our tribe hasssss defensssssesssss againssssst predatorsssss, but my father isssss very ssssstrict about who can and cannot ssssstay.”

“What do you mean?”

“My father hasssss thisssss belief where if you cannot handle the wild, you cannot come back to the tribe. He isssss more ssssstrict about that belief with my brothersssss and I. He will sssssend usssss in the wild every once in a while to tessssst usssss. Though, he tendsssss to sssssend me out more than my brotherssssss. Thusssss I tend to have more wildernessssss knowledge.”

Yoshimochi and Yukito turned their heads to the serpentine.

“You would think he wasssss trying to kill me by sssssending me out ssssso much.” Sai chuckled. It changed to a frown. “It would not be hard to disssssprove. I have… never really been a favorite of hisssss.”

Akiharu straightened his posture: “What makes you think that?”

“…I am the runt of my brothersssss. I am not asssss ssssstrong nor have any ssssspecial abilitiesssss. I am half blind which isssss not favorable for hunting, fighting, or even leading. Cursssssed Realm, I ssssshould not even be alive.”

“Woah, hey, hey. Who told you that?”

“Well, when I hatched, I wasssss weak and pathetic. My father wanted to throw me away to be eaten. However, I made it through thanksssss to Andrai. We were both born from the sssssame egg, and he wasssss much more healthy than I. And even in infancy, he cared for me. I would not be here if it weren’t for him. My father likesssss to hold that againssssst me.”

“Well that is stupid.

“What?”

“What, because you were born a bit unhealthy, you are worth nothing? I mean, he sends you out on these survival things, and you come back alive every time! How does that not say you are strong?”

“Well, it isssss not that defining.”

“Oh please, you probably know more ways to evade a predator then spikey over here.”

“Excuse me?” Yukito raised an eyebrow.

“You heard me.”

“Let usssss not get ahead of ourssssselvesssss.” Sai said.

“While Akiharu is being a bit brash,” Yoshimochi stepped in, “he does have a point. I do not see your father’s reasoning to dismiss you.”

“I appreciate your wordsssss, I do, but you all do not have to sssssay thessssse thingsssss. After all, I am not asssss dessssserving of an element like you all.”

Yoshimochi and Yukito blinked at that. Akiharu, on the other hand, shrunk into himself.

“… I would not say that is true for me.” Akiharu said.

Sai tilted his head: “What do you mean?”

“Well, you see… I am not that very honorable considering everything in my life. I do not tell people this to save myself the trouble but… I do not have a family or name to fall back on. My parents perished when I was really young, and I did not have a family name.”

“You are an orphan?” Yoshimochi asked.

“Uh, yes. I have been alone on the streets since I was a child. And when you are a little girl with no one to guide you, you end up having to guide yourself. Sometimes that means by holding up lies.”

“Wait, a little girl?” Yukito raised an eyebrow.

“Oh shit, uh.” Akiharu stumbled on his words, taking a gulp. “Please do not tell anyone, especially the First Master, but… I am not a man?”

The three stared at Akiharu.

“You are a woman?” Yoshimochi questioned.

“Yes.”

“This entire time?”

“Yes.”

“Wh— But I thought— You seem so much like a man!”

“That is the whole point of this charade. I had to do some tricks to get this way.”

“But why would you pretend you are a man and not a woman?”

“Well, a thing you learn on the streets is you survive better if presented as a boy. You get more opportunities to make money, you can get away with minor acts of crime more easily, and you get taken a bit more seriously. I mostly did it to pass a day on the streets. But then I got chosen to be the Master of Earth… and I did not feel like I could reveal my little secret.”

Akiharu could feel the stares of his teammates, but he couldn’t recognize that each stare brought a different feeling. Yukito gave the feeling of curiosity. Sai gave the feeling of empathy. Yoshimochi gave the feeling of horror… To fake who you are just to live?

“Does… Does it make you uncomfortable that we refer to you as a man?” Yoshimochi asked.

“Not really.” Akiharu clarified. “To be quite honest, I have gotten used to it and I have found an appeal to it. But that does not make it any better, does it?”

“… Well, you said it was to pass a day on the streets. If you think about it, it is like how Sai has learned to survive the wilderness.”

“… Are you trying to compare wilderness survival to street survival… as an attempt to make me feel better about my deception?”

“I-I mean, well, I, uh—”

“No, no, I can sssssee it.” Sai chimed in. “Yesssss, very different sssssituationsssss, but in a way they are sssssimilar.”

“Can you explain how?” Akiharu asked.

“Doing what we can to make it passssst a day alive.”

“… Huh. I guess so. Never would have thought of it that way.” Akiharu turns to Yoshimochi. “Didn’t know such a nobel could see that.”

Yoshimochi’s face turned red, “I— Well— I have to be. It is expected by my father that I see all of the details.”

“You see all of the details?” Akiharu teased.

“… No, but I am trying to get better.”

Sai noticed Yoshimochi becoming a bit nervous.

“Isssss sssssomething troubling you, Yossssshimochi?” Sai asked.

“Oh, uh, it is not important.” Yoshimochi. “It is only a minor thing that is rather silly.”

Sai scooted closer to Yoshimochi. Akiharu rested his head on his hands as he stared at Yoshimochi. He looked at Yukito, who only shrugged and put his hands up. The lightning master sighed.

“Well, if you must insist.” He began. “I supposed my… trouble is living up to my family’s name. I am the only son, and I must hold the Koizumi family high. I have to leave a good mark… but I will admit, there are times I wished I did not have such a burden. I would rather spend my time in a farmhouse with the animals then try to upkeep the family’s name.”

Yoshimochi, feeling he is being too whiny, quickly cleared his throat.

“Again, it is only a minor and silly trouble. I cannot compare it to anything else, especially since I’m lucky to have my luxuries.”

“Oh, Yossssshimochi.”

“D-Did I say too much?”

“Get over here.” Akiharu said as he pulled in Yoshimochi. “And quit being so humble. You are making me feel guilty for thinking you were only another stuck-up noble.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mostly assumed because of past experience. But here you are, acting like you are not allowed to complain because you are rich.”

“Well, I mean—”

“No, no, no, that is how you begin to hide your true feelings. My Mama always told me: ‘If you do not express how you feel, then your feelings will stay buried until something forces it out’. And, well, it can get nasty when buried feelings are forced out.”

Yoshimochi’s face turned redder and spoke quietly: “I suppose so.”

The two boys and serpent turned to the demon.

“… Please do not tell me I am supposed to share something.” Yukito said.

“We all shared something personal about us,” Yoshimochi began, “it is fair you do the same.”

“Please, like you three could empathize with me. I am a Demon of the North, I am an immortal being of ice.”

“Well I think even immortal beings of ice have emotions.” Akiharu smirked.

Yukito glared at the earth master.

“If it makesssss you uncomfortable, you do not have to ssssshare.” Sai offered.

Yukito turned to the serpentine. Unlike the humans, Sai held an actual genuine face. He was respectful and a little too kind for a serpentine. In Yukito’s experience, kindness means nothing but trouble. However… The serpentine stood no threat, and the demon wasn’t uncomfortable sharing his life.

Yukito let out a sigh: “Alright fine. If you must know, then I will share a fraction of information about my life. I have an older brother and sister who hate me along with the rest of the demons in the Northern Quarters. So I am usually on my own avoiding everyone who wants me dead. And before anything is said, this is quite normal in my territory. I am used to it by now.”

The humans were shocked. Sai did not show a clear emotion. He got up and slithered towards Yukito, giving him a hug.

“Wh-What—”

“I needed a hug.” Sai explained.

That was a lie. The serpentine was only hugging as an attempt of comfort. Comfort that Yukito didn’t need since he did not have a problem with his life. Being hated is normal among all demons. You could trust no one, and anyone could leave you to die in the dust.

… But Yukito will accept the hug. Only for Sai’s sake. He would most likely become sad if the hug was rejected.

Yoshimochi let out a sneeze.

“Ewwwww.” Akiharu cringed. “You sneezed on me.”

“Oh please, you probably have more illnesses than my sneeze.”

“Oh, how dare you! You are shattering my fragile wounded orphan heart.”

“Do I speak of lies?”

“No, I agree with you.”

“Then why did you—”

Yoshimochi let out another sneeze.

“Oh fuck, I think I am getting ill from the rain.”

Sai pulled away from Yukito and went straight for the bag. The serpentine pulled out a big blanket and wrapped it around Yoshimochi.

“May I asssssk you to trussssst me for a moment?” Sai asked.

“I am scared of what that is implying, but yes?” Yoshimochi hesitantly answered.

Sai wrapped his tail around Yoshimochi as if cradling eggs. The serpentine then grabbed a small vile and spoon.

“Sai, may I ask what you are doing?” Yoshimochi questioned.

“It isssss a warming technique ssssserpentine mothersssss ussssse for their young.” Sai explained. “It isssss usssssually usssssed for vipersssss or when a child isssss ill. What I have in my handsssss isssss medicine that ssssshould prevent illnessssss but will make you feel tired.”

Sai gave Yoshimochi the spoon of the medicine. It caused him to gag.

“That tastes terrible.” Yoshimochi commented.

“Unfortunately that isssss one of the downfallsssss of medicine.” Sai chuckled.

“Do you have an extra blanket?” Akiharu asked.

Sai smiled and handed Akiharu another blanket from the bag.

“Why do you have two blankets?” Yukito asked.

“Emergency.” Sai beamed. “Alssssso I get cold easssssily.”

Akiharu laid his head on Sai’s tail, Yoshimochi eased up, feeling the drowsiness from the medicine kick in.

“Can we all promise to not tell a soul what was discussed tonight?” Yoshimochi yawned.

The other three agreed. No one really needed to know what they talked about in the grundle hole.

“I shall keep watch if anyone comes to find us.” Yukito volunteered. “You all should rest for the night.”

“Thank you, Yukito.” Sai thanked.

“… It is not much trouble.”

And so, the humans and serpentine fell asleep as the demon kept watch. This group of mortals is strange. Especially Sai. When there is bickering, he’s able to dispute it. He offers comfort and kindness to everyone. It seems so silly and unneeded.

And… admittedly, Yukito can’t make sense out of it. Especially with everything the serpentine went through. He has experienced hatred and danger for all his life. He knows his father wants him dead and has tried to kill him. Yet despite all of that, Sai somehow chooses to be kind. Perhaps he’s hiding his true intention? No one can be that kind.

Yukito let out a small sigh. He’ll just keep an extra eye on Sai. The other two aren’t much threatening. They are a little annoying though. The bickering was getting tiring, and it was driving Yukito nuts.

And so the rainy night continued until sunrise. Although the four may not know it yet, they all have more in common than they think. And it is that common ground that will bring them together as the closest and bestest of friends.

#ninjago #mask writes #first elemental master #first elemental masters

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renearatman · 1 year ago

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I'm not being sarcastic I'm curious by nature . also in your case I'd like to know in case it's something it's something I'm not already aware of and should like to blacklist to avoid in future. because from what you've said .. 🥶 don't like that!

blitzo x fizzarolli from helluva boss is uh... YEAH NO. I'm kinda getting grossed out by the series bc of these two being canonically raised by the same person and now bc of one (really stupid) throwaway joke in the show people started shipping them which is fucking. no. gross. stay away HISSSSS

#answer

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eclipse-the-nonbinary-cryptid · 2 years ago

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*hisssss* stay away from Lunar, Heartsick!

#stay. away. from. the. bean.#you will be hunted by me #The Circus Baby And Glamrock Freddy Show

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sometimes-she-becomes-it · 7 days ago

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yandere lil cal?

(bit hard to make a floppy puppet threatening enough to be considered yandere but for you anon I shall try 🫡)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

When Callie sees the puppet in Dirk's hands, the first thing she feels is shock.

Then a strange feeling all over her body- she feels hot- but not in the usual way. It feels as if someone has turned her blood to lava, a cold sort of... Anger, she almost thinks. Her mouth opens and she snarls, a soft hisssss escaping through her teeth. Still, she takes deep breaths and tries to keep her calm.

"Dirk." She says, breathing heavily. "Why do you have my puppet in your hands? I do not recall giving you permission to touch it." It takes everything in her not to growl at him, cherubic vocal chords in her throat almost vibrating in anticipation.

"What are you talking about?" Dirk looks at her almost as if in confusion, but her eyes are looking only at the puppet in his grasp "I was looking at it. That was all."

"Well, you can stop looking at it now. Please give it back to me."

Dirk stays quiet for a moment. Then- "You are acting strange."

"give me back the puppet." She repeats. She almost can't hear herself over the whispering of makehimstopmakehimpaygetusbacktalewhatisyoirsdontlethimseparateyoufrom- in her mind. She has to strain herself to hear Dirk.

"Callie-" Dirk pauses, then looks back at the puppet, holding it up carelessly. Something in her chest twists at the sight. "I think.... There is something wrong with this thing."

"The puppet."

Dirk looks back at Calliope "....No, I don't think I will."

Calliope lunges.

Dirk flinches back as if expecting to be struck, but Callie simply grasps Lil' Cal's arm, the one Dirk is not holding, and tries to steal the other away from his grip.

"Callie, look at yourself. You're acting strange, why won't you just notice!" Behind his shades, she can see his eyes are wide in alarm. She doesn't care. She keeps tugging

"Just- Let- Go!" She huffs

"No. You can feel it just as well as I can! Don't pretend you don't-" suddenly her hearing starts to become distorted. The blood rushing through her head makes everything sound as if underwater. Only a few words (Brother- possessed- evil-) make it through.

But she can see clearly the moment his hands start to light up with magenta and-

Alarm cuts through her like lightning, everything going too fast and too slow at the same time- all she can register is her fangs exposing themselves, she lunges at Dirk- then her vision distorts, sight and everything else desynchronize from each other, something shaking under her hand- make him pay make him pay make him pay- warmth covering her hands- clack clack clack of wood and then-

When she comes back to herself, her hands are covered in red blood- red human blood, she knows instinctively. Part of her feels as if she should care, but the only thing she can feel is a vague relief when she finds Lil' Cal laying on the floor close to her.

"it's alright" she says, holding it "it's alright. I have you now. I have you."

#writings from the abbyss #calcest #prompted writings #chatterings

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ninnekomata · 10 months ago

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@mythcaels: i'm in trouble. it's really bad. / from akira

"CLEARLY." the enormous feline absolutely towers over the injured man, body a writhing mass of miasma and living shade - light seems to dim even further in the already secluded forested area the injured shinobi had dragged himself to. the sounds of bodies skittering through the underbrush in the tiny grotto's direction are near deafening to the summon's ears.

he'd been dragged into a shit show, to put it mildly. not an unusual situation for such a creature to be called into under normal circumstances. but these were not normal.

this had been one of the challenge scrolls, meant to be hidden and found with great effort. an earned reward for a worthy and willing searcher.

the man who had beckoned him from beyond the veil of spirits was clearly on his last legs; not the state to cast a summoning, let alone to throw away enough chakra to call upon a Contract Boss. this was clearly a move of desperation, not one celebrating a hard-won prize.

and whatever it was crawling around in the dark of the woods was not a normal foe - he could not see what lurked beyond the trees but something about it was wrong and he could not help the horrendous hisssss (like the broiling of a tremendous engine fit to burst) that spilled over gleaming fangs.

"Stay behind me, thou who has summoned me from beyond the veil, and know the sanctity of the shadows." darkness crept towards the unfortunate man, to obscure and defend, and the great cat turned to face the encroaching figures. Ronin had been called in a final bid of salvation; it was a good thing he made it a point to always beat the odds.

#mythcaels #ask | important missive.#v. tbd.#sir what the FUCK have you gotten the cat into he is not happy to be here #queue.

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kazewhara · 3 years ago

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okay, why is the thought of kissing tongue pierced kazuha so hot, oh no ksjfjsksjjks 💥💥💥 what have u done, hide and seek anon

we are not opening this can of worms WHAT IS WITH MY ASKS LATELY?#*@&@*&$*#

BACK, ALL OF YOU 🤺🤺 BACK, I SAY‼️ I SAID GET BACK 🤺‼️

#z anon #HISSSSS STAY AWAY FROM ME I'M DANGEROUS

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kagayakukagavaku · 2 years ago

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Cat Zane AU pg 11

Ninjago- Cat Zane AU. Chapter 1- The Start of it All Kagayaku Kagavaku CH :3

Page 11

They ended up cornering Zane by the TV in the living room. “Okay! Someone distract him!” Lloyd blurted out.

Jay crouched in front of Zane, “Don’t worry guys! I watch cat videos!”

Everyone looked at each other and then looked back at Jay. “Of course you do.” Kai rolled his eyes. “Didn’t expect less.” Cole snickered.

“Zane! Psps Psps Psps Psps Psps!” Jay grabbed a string from his hoodie and waved it in front of Zanes face. Zane stared blankly at it for a second, as if he hadn’t initially noticed it, then started to focus on the string. “Come on! That’s it! Get the string!” Zane, with full force, lunged at the string and started to bat it with his hand.

Nya quickly got behind Zane and tried to get to the chip holder on his head, but he was moving too fast. The others tried to help by further backing Zane into the corner. Jay slowed down the movement of the string carefully. Nya tapped the back of Zane’s head and… CHOMP. “Ouch! Hey!” Nya yelled. “Why me??”

“It looks like he doesn’t want you to touch the chip.” Kai said.

“Thanks captain obvious! Nya, let me try! I have an idea!” Cole carefully swapped places with Nya. Zane was still distracted by the string. He carefully bent down and patted the top of Zane’s head. Zane stopped moving for a moment, and then carefully batted at the string while Cole continued to pet his head. “Now if I just-” Coles hand shook as he carefully approached the chip holder. He pushed the piece in and the compartment popped out. “Just a little longer…” All the others quickly crouched on the floor and distracted Zane with various objects consisting of a remote, a piece of fabric, and a game controller. He leaned forwards and put his face up to the objects. Jay stopped using the string from his hood and waited. Cole went for the chip.

“You’re so close!” Lloyd cheered.

“Come on Zane… just stay still a little longer…” Jay patted Zanes head.

HISSSSS! “GWAH!” Cole jumped back as Zane whipped his head around and swatted at Coles arms. The piece with the chips closed and Zane sprinted away.

Jay and the others stood up quickly to make chase,

Kai was the first to start sprinting after Zane again, “He’s getting away!”

“Aw! We were so close!” Nya whined, following close behind. “We just need another way to distract him! It’s bound to work eventually, right?” Lloyd followed.

Jay turned to Cole, who was still standing there, “You okay?”

He sighed, “Ya. Just scared for my life now.”

“Ya. Me too.” A new page of Cat Zane just for you. Enjoy LMAO Update: LOL I FORGOT TO UPDATE THE TITLE TO SAY PAGE 11 INSTEAD OF 9-10 SORRY ABOUT THAT

#Cat Zane AU #ninjago #au #crack au

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dapandapod · 4 years ago

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The hide and seek test

Ciri Science and the idiot syndrome Ao3

Prev - Next

Ciri: We need to hide. Now.

Jaskier: Library?

Geralt: Too far. Kitchen.

They are running down the halls together, behind them they can hear the ominous countdown.

Eskel: twenty eight! Twenty nine! Thirty! Thirty one!

Ciri: He is counting too fast!

Geralt: *opens his intended hiding place* FUCK!

Yen: *hisssss*

Geralt. *closes the door* *nope, this one is taken* *he did not get startled, not at all*

Eskel: *in the distance* Forty nine! Fifty!

Jaskier: Heck heck heck he is almost done! In here!

Ciri: *the cupboard Jaskier found is very small* *very small* *oooh yes this will do nicely* *evil child smirk*

Ciri: *pushes Geralt inside* *then grabs Jaskier and shoves him in there too* *it is really a bit small*

Eskel: Ready or not! Here I come!

Jaskier: Ciri! Get in! *it’s too tight* *but if he slips his arms around Geralt maybe* *and press up against his back*

Ciri: *scared princess noises* *squeezes inside* *uugh it’s barely any room in here* *closes the door*

Geralt: *the cupboard is very silent* *Jaskiers arms are around him* *and his breaths are right next to his ear* *and he is pressed against his back*

Jaskier: *heck heck heck* *they are so close* *Geralt smells wonderful* *don’t be a creep Jaskier* *don’t be a creep*

Ciri: *nervous excitement* *plan seems to be a success* *shoves at Jaskier so that they get even closer* *because she needs more space* *that’s it* *no other reason* *muahaha*

There are no sounds for a long while. A really long while.

Geralt and Jaskier: *panics panics panics* *they are so close* *sweaty palms and racing hearts*

Ciri: *bored* *sneaks a peak through the crack of the door*

Eskel: HAH! Found you!

Ciri: Damnit! *makes sure to close cupboard door behind her and hide Jaskier and Geralt*

Eskel: Really princess? A cupboard? That is so obvious. *notice her close the door very pointedly* *goes to open it* *he can smell Jaskier and Geralt inside*

Ciri: *stops him* *points at Yens hiding place instead* *sacrifices has to be made*

Eskel: ………. *looks sceptically at princess* *she nods frantically* *opens Yens door*

Yen: *HISSSSSS*

Eskel: AH! FUCK!

Ciri drags them both away from the kitchen and makes them find every one else instead. And then convince them to stop looking. Jaskier and Geralt are in that cupboard for a looong time. All alone in the darkness.

Ciri: *evil child smirk* *scribbles on clipboard* *all too satisfied* Today's preparations were a success. The subjects stayed in close proximity for a long time. End phase will likely go smoothly.

#idiot syndrome #hide and seek #this child really takes every opportunity #i admire her greatly #and Eskel well and truly starts to fear her #and what happens in that cupboard stays in that cupboard #yen is so proud #witcher eskel #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #geralt of rivia #julian alfred pankratz #jaskier the bard #endphase approaching #dapanda writes #cirilla of cintra

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yes-im-hades · 6 months ago

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* Grabs the child *

This is my child hisssss Stay away Dionysus.

I'm asking every god I know. Are you my dad?

- @who-is-my-godly-parent

Oh yeah

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goodvibesprompttime · 3 years ago

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DSMP AU :D

Gods abandon children all the time.

It wasn't uncommon for children to find each other, be it on the road, travelling to somewhere that even they didn’t know existed, or, perhaps if they were the lucky ones, in a school among the rest of humans, where their godly heritage goes to die. It was up to opinion if losing heritage was worth it. If not, the children left a means of shelter to follow the path of uncertainty, chaos, without education or any guarantee they would see the beauty of dawn, or her loving embrace.

Like all abandoned children, twelve year old Tommy was good at something. It may not have been dancing, or cooking, or baking, or sports, or… a lot of things. But, the blonde was good at something. He was good at counting steps, and he was good at breathing, and smiling, and he was really funny. Although, according to the other abandoned children, in the abandoned children villages, none of those were things to be proud of. Tommy hated coming across villages. In truth, calling them villages made the places sound nicer than they were. If you were lucky, you could come across a village that was really just a house. Most of the time, however, these villages were just a group of children in whatever shelter they could find - painted in brilliant roses of risk, with brushstrokes of broken glass, or the potential to be discovered and torn apart like useless paper, soaked in water.

Following the train tracks, as Tommy had done since he left the certainty of a foster family, led the blonde to many villages. Some villages only had two or three people, some had ten, one even was in the thirties. Tommy knew to avoid the bigger villages as a child with no insight on his godly parent. He had no powers to rely on, much less any intimidation. He was a scrawny kid carrying a stick, a backpack full of things, with a bandana around his neck, and a bandaid on his nose. Lesson one of being an abandoned, Tommy discovered, was to avoid big villages with bigger kids, or risk being beaten with your own stick. Tommy was only lucky they gave him bruises.

Despite having life, rather literally, beat him down when he was already low, Tommy followed the tracks with an uncanny sense of optimism. He sang for himself when even the birds were too tired to listen. He told himself stories when the forest did not. He still cheered as excitement swelled in him when a train passed by, even more so when he checked the time and found that the train came later. He was moving somewhere, farther from where the train was coming from, but that meant he was heading where it was going too. Time was still moving, and so was Tommy.

Meanwhile, in the passing train, there hid a pair of twins who lived on the run their entire lives. On the caboose, out of sight from the authoritarian eyes of adults, was Techno and Wilbur. One with pink hair, tusks, and pointed ears, the other a brunette and unnaturally human looking for being Techno’s twin. They were both fifteen, soon sixteen, with enough years of experience to know the natural law of being an abandoned child: Lesson one. Do not trust anybody.

While Wilbur was sitting near the caboose exit, knees tucked under his chin, Techno was studying a map of the city the train was heading to. The city was named Las Nevadas, and nicknamed “The City Who Never Sleeps”. Someone of human descent says it’s because of how busy the gambling city was. Anyone of godly descent knows it’s because Las Nevadas was a place untouchable by the gods, including the god of sleep himself. It was the perfect place for Techno and Wilbur.

Las Nevadas welcomed artists, of all kinds, and, they hoped, they would not be discovered as abandoned children long enough to be hired by someone. There were most certainly flaws in the plan, and the twins weren’t quite sure what they would say about Techno’s appearance, but they were clever enough to figure out something. It was fake, they could say. Techno loved the theatre, especially a character from a local play from their far away town that they definitely came from. So much so that he decided to dress like them everyday.

“Techno…?”

“Yes, Wilbur?”

“I’m hungry… Do we have anything left?” Techno set down the map and checked his bag. Staring at the rather empty contents, Techno took out the last sandwich he had made from their last stop. After giving that to Wilbur, Techno gave his twin an orange and his metal water bottle. “Thanks, Techno…”

“Eat slow,” Techno picked up his map. “We still have an hour until Las Nevadas…”

“Okay…”

The City Who Never Sleeps. It was always a facit of conflicting viewpoints coming together to drown in the losing game of gambling. It was giving individuals jobs to work themselves to death. It was an approximation of a monster that never slept, just continuously fed on the poor souls it, and its creators, lured in. It was infectious. A disease that allowed people to walk like the living dead, with local folklore painting it as so alluring the pride and joy casino, Los Amantes, first ever built, lured in gods.

All who lived in Las Nevadas, from the richest sinner to the poorest saint, that one phrase that dictates all in the city. Those who haven’t learned it perished mercilessly, their souls ripped from their bodies and minds to be sold to the highest paying bidder.

Lesson one: the house always wins.

From between the buildings, continuously wandering through alleyways, there was a tall child, just reaching fifteen not too long ago. His eyes were a misty purple, his pointed ears tilted towards the ground. He was an obvious abandoned child. If one couldn’t tell from ears or normally red and green eyes, then his skin of black and white was the giveaway. Truthfully, it was uncharacteristic for him to be in public and, if there was no other choice, then he would be in disguise. To have him wander so dangerously close towards the busy streets was suicide.

“Ranboo!” A hand grabbed the sleepwalker’s, yanking him away before he could get into trouble. Ranboo hissed, struggling, but his companion was much stronger than him - albeit shorter. “Come on, not again…”

His companion went by Tubbo, an abandoned child left behind before he was known to have existed, then yet again when he was growing into his demigodly features as a small child. He kept his brown hair over his eyes, blocking anyone from seeing their yellow glow, and always kept his pants baggy to cover up his goat-like legs. Surviving through the streets, being a thief, getting an odd job once or twice, all led to him taking care of Ranboo and another abandoned child. Nights like these, where Ranboo was “sleepwalking”, Tubbo searched for him. Sometimes it took minutes, sometimes it took hours. Tubbo had trained himself to wake up an hour after falling asleep just for these occasions, but predicting everything was impossible.

“Hisssss,” Ranboo snapped at Tubbo, literally hissing and snapping his jaw.

Tubbo snapped his fingers at Ranboo. “Don’t get mouthy with me, mister!”

The sleepwalker went quiet, making tiny noises Tubbo couldn’t describe - or replicate, for that matter. Tubbo dragged Ranboo back to their makeshift home, made from the fifth floor of an abandoned office space that had yet to be torn down. It was a stuffy place and it was hard to transform into a decent enough space to live, for both themselves and baby Michael. It wasn’t an unwelcomed surprise, just one unexpected. Ranboo freaked out, but who left a baby crying behind a trash can to either starve or freeze or get eaten by raccoons. Tubbo wasn’t expecting a baby, and was thankful Ranboo had some semblance of childcare knowledge. Tubbo supposed there was some benefit from being raised in an orphanage.

Tubbo panicked when he heard Michael crying, the abandoned child swore the baby was asleep. Before Tubbo could react, Ranboo near sprinted past him to attend to the baby. Out of his sleepwalking phase, Ranboo picked up Michael and soothed him to sleep. Tubbo smiled a bit, relieved, and watched his platonic partner while leaning on the doorframe.

Michael didn’t sleep easily, especially if he can’t feel Tubbo or Ranboo. It’s why Tubbo moved his makeshift crib into his and Ranboo’s, for lack of a better word, room. It was just a mattress with a sheet Ranboo stole from the orphanage when he escaped, a blanket Tubbo stole, and pillows they managed to save up for. It was comfortable, appearances being deceiving of course. Michael surely thought so, resting as Ranboo set the baby on one of the pillows.

“... you should go back to sleep, bossman.” Tubbo mumbled, taking off his coat and letting it fall on the floor. “Under the blanket too, it’s too cold for that shit.”

Ranboo made a small noise, brushing some of Michael’s hair out of his face. Tubbo shook his head, sitting on the mattress.

“He’s fine…” Tubbo assured him. “And you’re fine! It’s not like you’ll sleepwalk again, you’ve never done that before.”

Ranboo, hesitantly, laid down, and Michael moved to cling to his face. Tubbo muffled his laugh, throwing the blanket over all three of them.

“Night, bossman.” Ranboo mumbled a goodnight.

Nights in Hell can only stay cold and dark for so long.

#dsmp #dream smp #dreamsmp #dsmp tommy #dsmp tommyinnit #dream smp tommy #dream smp tommyinnit #dsmp ranboo #dream smp ranboo #dsmp tubbo #dream smp tubbo #dsmp michael #dream smp michael #dsmp au #dream smp au

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beerecordings · 4 years ago

Text

Poison - Chapter 5

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4

So this was going to be the final section but it was longer than I expected! So there will be one part after this, I think, or one part and an epilogue. It should be posted next week :)

Marvin is, at last, rescued. But whether or not his brothers have been quick enough to truly save him - and what is to be done with the broken amalgamation of Anti and Chase, bound together in confusion and agony by a possession which out-stayed its welcome - is yet to be seen.

Trigger warnings for trauma reactions and hospitalization, including intubation, major illness, and forced psychiatric hold with restraints and drugging (Anti-Chase is the one in psychiatric holding). There are parts of this that could be interpreted as soft!Anti, but mostly it’s just Chase’s influence on the merged character they’ve made.

All that being said... hope you enjoy and thanks for reading :)

-----------

white

room.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe, whispers the machine pumping oxygen into his lungs with a hiss.

The only noise.

Silence and oxygen.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Hisssss.

Can't feel anything at all.

Even his skin is a stranger.

Untouchable.

Colors and images and words with a vile sound to them – memories, realizes some part of him – filter through his mind like dust through the air.

Meaningless.

Empty as a white

white

room.

White coat. He stares up at it. It moves. Someone's wearing it.

White sheets. They do not fidget. His body is frozen beneath them.

White man.

His blue eyes are the only color in the room.

White

room.

Dark.

Cool.

Silent.

“Schneep,” his mouth attempts, just once, and then he is asleep again.

Henrik lets himself touch his wrist. Only for a moment. Just to feel the heart still beating beneath his own fingers.

“Stay with me,” he whispers, and hopes it reaches him somewhere, a light in dark dreams. “Stay with me, my brother.”

The first night is the vital one and he’s done everything he can.

Now he has to wait.

“I’ll finish up the last of it,” murmurs Kaashif, a nurse he’s worked with for two years now, touching his shoulders. “Go check on your brothers. Get something to eat. Your hands are good ones to be in, Henrik.”

“You can say that if he survives,” answers Henrik, clapping him on his shoulder and sending one look back at Marvin, small and as white as a gutted bird in that great blank bed.

Stay with me, my brother.

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

The cool walls of Henrik’s office surround him, comforting in their familiarity. The table is glass, a customary splattering of papers discarded across the smooth surface. A Newton’s cradle with smiley faces on the balls that Chase bought for him rock back and forth, back and forth, soothing white noise to Jackie’s ears. He stares up at the abstract blue and orange painting on a full meter of canvas pinned up above Henrik’s chair. Jameson made it for him himself. Just some nice colors. Just something to brighten up his office. For you, Schneep.

Hospitals can be scary. Jackie knows. But for his family, this place in particular has never been an omen for them. This is where they come to pick up Henrik after long days of work. This is where they’ve shared over-priced cafeteria food and smuggled-in Taco Bell at four in the morning. This is a piece of their city, of their home, of their family. Most of the staff know them by name, or at least as Henrik’s brothers. They can get roof access just by begging Cameron the security guard hard enough. And even when they’ve come here because someone was sick or Jackie broke a bone or that one time Marvin stepped on a piece of glass after breaking a crystal ball that wasn’t working, this was never the place to come to out of fear. It was the place to come because they knew Henrik was in the hospital, and Henrik would make it better.

JJ signs something incoherent and burrows deeper into Jackie’s shoulder, sighing against his shirt. Jackie wants to smile at his sleeping face, but he’s so tired, and so full of adrenaline, and so, so, so scared.

They’ve waited for hours by the time Henrik finally slips into his office behind them, letting the door shut behind him with a tired click. There’s a long silence. Jackie closes his eyes. Please don’t let them be gone.

“You made yourself at home,” Henrik teases, stepping forward, though his voice cracks slightly on delivery. He has a point, however. Wrappers from vending machine candy and a couple bottles of fizzy drinks lie abandoned around the chairs in front of his desk, the drawers of which have been ripped open in search of entertainment – or, better put, distraction. Not that the caffeine or the many drawings of sheep given to Henrik by Chase’s kids were enough to save Jackie from the full, shaking weight of his fear. He strokes his thumb across his little brother’s wrist and reminds himself to breathe steady.

Henrik moves to Jackie’s side and puts a hand on his free shoulder. He doesn’t even look up. His tired eyes have drifted down from his painting to the glass that makes up Henrik’s back wall, where snow is drifting out of the sky.

Henrik crouches down beside him and puts his head against his arm, and for a long moment they just rest, together, listening to Jameson breathe.

“Can you talk?” asks Henrik. “Do you need somewhere quiet to go? The lights off?”

“I’m okay, Schneep,” whispers Jackie, touching the bandage over Henrik’s cheek where Marvin burned him. “Just worried. Is he…”

“He’s alive.”

Jackie’s gloved hand squeezes around Jameson’s, making his little brother’s sleepily-clutched rosary clink and glitter in the starlight. Henrik looks up to see Jackie’s face squeezed just as tight, his eyes closed.

“Is he going to be alright?”

“I can’t make any promises,” whispers Henrik. “JJ seem okay to you?”

“You heard that he fainted just about as soon as we got here?”

“Magic is exhausting. I could have gotten him a bed somewhere.”

“He just wanted to be in your office. He likes it in here. There’s been a nurse checking in on him anyway. You know how much all the nurses here love him.”

“Yeah, cause he’s always bringing baked goods to the break room for ‘my big brother and his coworkers.’”

“Aka, being the cutest person in the world.”

“Yeah. Well, when Marvin is better, he’ll know what to do to take care of magical exhaustion better than I do. And he can teach JJ everything he needs to know. And everything will be okay.”

Jackie stares up at him, seeing himself reflected in Henrik’s glasses. His fear reflected – shared – in Henrik’s eyes.

“What happened?” he whispers. “Tell me everything.”

What a fucking night. What a fucking night. Henrik laughs without knowing why and goes to sit down on his side of the desk, burying his face in his hands.

Jackie waits, watching him. Eventually he leans down and picks up a Dr. Pepper, sliding it towards his brother.

“I’m going to pretend this is whiskey,” says Henrik, and he pops the cap and chugs the half that remains, making Jackie give him a faint, amused smile, which is all that matters to Henrik right now, really, because it’s all he can do.

He explains to Jackie what he can, trying not to go too fast. Jackie sits there holding Jameson and listening quietly to Henrik talking about things like renal failure and sedatives for seizures and a cool white room with all stimuli set to a minimum and muscle relaxants pumping into their brother to stop any more convulsions – not to mention what sounds like enough activated charcoal to detox a sickly elephant. Marvin’s intubated, Henrik explains, and extremely unwell. He won’t know for a couple days how bad the damage to his body will be. He could still die. And no, they can’t see him. No one can. Not for days.

“I could wear all white,” Jackie tries to bargain, voice rasping. “I could be really quiet and not touch him.”

“You can’t, Jackie. The risk is too high.”

“I can’t just sit with him? I can’t see him through the window of the room?”

“There is no window to the room. He has to rest. Alone. Quiet. No color. As little movement as he can. He won’t even be conscious for a couple days.”

Jackie bangs his fist against the arm of the chair in an effort to be contradictory, but he doesn’t take his head off Jamie’s. He buries himself against his brother’s hair, hoping Henrik won’t see him cry.

“Listen, Jackie… I need to give you the medical professional talk now, okay? I need you to know this. I’m not trying to be pessimistic and I’m not giving up hope, just – ”

“It’s okay, Schneep,” says Jackie softly. “I already know most people who get poisoned this badly die.”

A silence falls between them. Henrik stares at his own hands and says nothing.

“Cottonmouth?” he manages eventually, looking up at his brother.

“Dead,” mumbles Jackie. “I’ll let the cops handle that one. It’s horrible, really... even for her. Wonder what Moccasin will do.”

“Right,” says Henrik, his voice a little dark, and Jackie thinks that his little brother doesn’t think it’s so horrible at all, that she got what she deserved. “Yeah.”

Jameson shuffles sleepily on Jackie’s shoulder. The snow is quieting outside.

“And Chase?” Jackie whispers.

Found after all this time. Found after all this time.

Found like this.

“What did the police say?” asks Henrik.

“They almost tried to take him back to the station! I could have pounded them for it! But I looked after him til the emergency responders said he should go to the psych ward of the hospital. Wasn’t going to let pigs touch my little brother.”

“Is he going to be arrested once he’s better?”

“I don’t think so. Max is pulling some strings for us. He knows Chase isn’t… himself. He’s going to buy us time to deal with this.”

“Well, if they do try to put him on trial, I can always smuggle him back to Germany.”

Jackie laughs despite himself, covering his face with his hands for a moment, trying to keep it together.

“I won’t let anything happen to him. He can’t, like, glitch away, right?”

“As far as we can tell. He’s heavily drugged.”

“And how is he?”

“I, um. I don’t know.”

“What?”

Henrik looks up at him, face drawn and guilty.

“Schneep, they told me you were looking after him.”

“I meant to. I mean, I wrote up his treatment plan and everything and I had the nurses give him everything he needs. But I couldn’t go in there. I got – I got…”

Henrik trails off, mouth pursed. Jackie sighs and pulls his face up from JJ’s hair.

He got scared.

“He doesn’t really look like Chase, does he?” he murmurs.

“Or act like him,” Henrik all but whimpers, clutching at the white sleeves of his coat that hide the pale string scars underneath. “He acts like… like him, and I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay,” says Jackie. “It’s not your fault, Schneep. I’d be nervous too.”

“Will you go with me?” he asks.

“You still want to see him?”

“Yes.” Henrik tries to look resolute when he nods. “I do, yes. I need to help him with this. I need to find a way to save him, Jackie. I think I can do it. If you’re there.”

Jackie grins at him, hallowed by the stars and the snow outside. There’s his Schneep. That’s his tough little brother.

“Course, man. That’s what I do. They don’t call me Jackieboyman for nothing.”

“They call you that because you are a dork. Come on. He’s in the psych ward.”

“Wait, what about Jamie?”

“Oh, I talked with the nurse. He’s just sleeping. For once. So he should be okay to keep resting a while. Call me when he’s possessed and/or someone’s fed him gopher poison in revenge for imprisoning their drug lord partner.”

“Don’t even joke, von Schneeplestein. Don’t even joke.”

He picks Jameson up and readjusts him in the chair, leaving him sleeping deep and dreamless beneath blue and orange canvas, warm with Jackie’s hoodie wrapped around his shoulders.

At least Jackie gets to see this one resting.

Now it’s time to go poke a bear.

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

“Where am I?” he asks himself, staring at the ceiling above him.

White ceiling. White bedsheets. White light, painful on the eyes after so long in unconsciousness.

“I think… a hospital?” he answers, his voice weak, his tongue terribly thick in his mouth. “Please, no words… oh, I ache…”

He’ll think instead. It’s easier.

This is a hospital?

I think it is.

I don’t want to be here! Let’s get out.

Look, in the doorway… the men who look like me.

He turns his head more fully towards the door, breathing anxiously.

Those are the men I ran away from?

I don’t remember… did I? Oh, our head… we have to lie back down.

He sinks into the pillows and nearly passes out again, his head throbbing and his limbs sluggishly motivated, tasting blood in his mouth.

He doesn’t remember much of that day he went away.

In fact, he doesn’t remember much at all.

He thinks there was a train that day, or maybe not a train. A train underground. He was holding… something soft. He was holding something soft. He was smiling.

He was on his way to see his children.

He was on his way to see his kids. Yes, he was smiling. He was smiling very big.

The subway rattled merrily around him as he sat clutching the stuffies he had bought them to his chest, his eyes bright, grinning at the exhausted assemblage of people headed to work around him. Things were good, and Hunter had been excited to see him on the phone, and Stacy was going to go out of town and let him stay with them, and everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be better than okay. Everything was going to be perfect.

And then he wasn’t who he was anymore.

There was nothing theatrical about it, really, nothing like in the movies, with throes of passionate fighting against the thing inside your head or a look of horror as the eyes turned black in the mirror. Anti did sit suddenly down beside him, yes, emerging from the crowd though he had not been there when the subway doors closed, and Chase’s heart took flight like a bird after a gunshot cuts through the air. He said nothing. Clutched Izzy’s stuffed seal tighter to his chest. Tried to breathe. Anti did not speak either.

A few minutes later, he was aware of a change in himself, and then he was lost, and as time went on, Chase only grew more and more lost within the dark tangle of trees and bristle and thorn in which he found himself. He cried out for his family. No one could hear him. He struggled. His hands tore open on the sharp wood and blood would seep through, moment to moment, staining together his consciousness and Anti’s, embedding him deep within the forest until, at last, he looked up and found Anti looking back at him, gripping his shirt, his arm, his hair, his body, desperate to tear him out of the forest they shared.

Entirely without success.

This was not what either of them meant to have happen. They were bound and bolted together, both caught in a constant recoil and a constant coming together. Anti was as tangled up as he was. Their blood seeped into the earth. Eventually the creature that remained – fae and man and monster and brother – forgot that there had ever been two to begin with at all. There was just him.

In pain.

And in confusion so great as to match it.

But despite that confusion, he thinks, now, as his eyes flicker open, that he recognizes the man in front of him, the one who has come into the room, leaving the other out in the hall, looking anxious and defensive.

He had recognized the other man a couple days ago, hadn’t he? Hanging from handcuffs? Convulsing with poison? They had stalked him, he thinks, and then, when he saw him in those chains, something in inside him snapped like a tree branch on the forest floor. Who was he? What was his name?

I wanted to see him die so badly.

He… loved me…

“Chase?”

He blinks drowsily, trying to come awake.

“Let me the fuck out,” he hears his own voice, thick and strained. “No…”

He is hand-cuffed to both sides of the white bed.

Confinement. No. Not this. He can’t bear it. To be chained down. Filthy mortal flesh, keeping him stuck, keeping him static, his whole being drowning under muscle and bone, unable to get out from the man’s body, from… his body?

We’re okay. I’m okay. Stay calm. Here I am.

He’s nothing but a sniveling excuse for a healer anyway.

Yes. He’s pathetic. I am strong. I’m here. We’re here. Hold on to me.

“Chase. It’s me. Are you okay? Please say something.”

He looks up again, eyes burning.

“Oh,” he says, feeling a smile, a sneer, grow malignantly across his face. “I knew I recognized you somewhere.”

“Yes,” the man whispers, eyes warming with relief. “Yes, my brother. It’s me. It’s me.”

“Of course,” he whispers back. “I still remember how beautiful you were chained to my basement floor. My lovely little torturer. I knew you’d come back to me one day, my doctor.”

Henrik’s body tenses, his pupils going small, his heart caught in his throat.

“I’m not scared of you,” he manages after a minute, but his eyes turn down to the ground, his posture shrinks small and submissive, and his hands clutch together as though he can hold his own heart and protect it inside of them. In the hallway, Jackie puffs up with worry, not allowed into the room by the shadowy figures Anti can see guarding the door. “I want Chase. Give him back to me.”

“Give him back to me,” he mocks, tilting his head, and when his eyes flash black Henrik whimpers and leaps up from his chair, jerking back towards the door and almost falling over his own feet. “Stupid little doctor.”

“Where’s Chase? I want him! You’re not him! You stole him from me!”

“I am and always have been the AntiJack,” he laughs, tearing against his restraints, panting as he tries to force the flesh to glitch, but, oh, he feels so heavy, so sluggish, so pinned down. Needles protrude from his arms. He cannot reach back to tear them out. “The one who is not him and the one who pretends to be. I am the reverse and the imposter. I… I am… ungh, Schneep, what did you even give me?”

“Enough calmatives to keep a horse on its knees,” spits back Henrik, wiping his hair shakily from his eyes. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Little fucker,” he mumbles, feeling his head drop onto his chin. “Bet you had to have the psych ward nurses do it, huh? Little man? You were always such a little coward, Schneep… letting everybody else do the big boy work… sitting in your little office, sorting through your papers, pretending you can do anything to save anyone. You just… you… fuck, I h-hate this flesh… fucking let me go.”

He tries to palm at the old scar on his head, groaning as pain lances through his brain. Another one of the random aches the body gets. He needs to lie down and sleep through it if he can. That’s what he does when the body is in pain. Maybe get some of the bitter, fermented liquids that humans like to help him quiet himself down. He’s gotten such a taste for whiskey. He can hear himself mumbling, trying to reorient himself, and his hands burn for his neat little notebooks. He has to keep track. He can’t just lose himself. He can’t just keep losing such big pieces of himself.

Hold on. Hold on to me. We’re okay!

I’ll get out of this like I always get out of trouble.

Yes, I’m okay. Focus on this little bastard. Confining me… who does he think he is?

We should rip him open like a candy bar wrapper.

“I can’t let you go,” the doctor tells him, slipping nervously back towards him. “Don’t scratch at your palms like that.”

“I’m going to cut you up like the little sardine I always meant to make of you,” he purrs, sing-song, scratching away at his palms until the blood comes, relieved for the pain to focus on. “I’m going to pluck the feathers off you, little bird, alouette, gentille alouette, alouette, je te plumerai.”

His own singing begins to calm him, his exhausted eyes flickering shut. He thinks the song was an old lullaby anyway.

“I will pluck your feathers out, I will pluck your feathers out. On your head, on your head, and your neck, and your neck, and your back, and your back… and your chest, alouette… ungh, too much medicine, Schneep… my head hurts. I’m going to skin you and make you into a hat for Jay… for J… for the other boy, the one with the… what’s his name, I…”

Henrik touches his bloodied palm.

He stills.

The doctor wipes the wet blood gently from his hands and bandages them. The soft pads of his fingers drift along the veins of his palms. Of his wrists. Of his fingers.

Someone is touching him.

Someone is touching him, touching him gently.

“Marvin?” he hears himself say. “Brother? Are you there? Where are you?”

“He’s resting,” whispers Henrik. “I am looking after him.”

“Yes,” he says. “Schneep. Look after him. Alouette, gentile alouette, alouette, je te plumerai…”

A needle is jammed into his throat. He screams, his fingers tightening around the hand holding his own and digging down into the back of it, his black eyes flashing open to stare at Henrik even as the world seeps rapidly away.

“You won’t be in control much longer, Anti,” murmurs Henrik, some deep and agonized fury glowing in his eyes as he shoves him back onto the bed. “Don’t pretend to be my little brother. I am not your slave anymore. I will find a way to set Chase free too.”

Anti can hear himself laughing as the darkness swallows him up.

“Please,” he thinks his mouth moves to say before he loses consciousness. “Yes, please, someone set us free.”

He is so lost, and this forest is blacker than blood.

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

“What do we do?” whispers Henrik, hiding in both the stairwell and Jackie’s chest.

“I don’t know,” Jackie whispers back, letting himself slump against his little brother. “I don’t know.”

They stand in the cold of the stairwell and they hold each other.

“Try to remind him who he is,” suggests Jackie finally. “Try to help him get himself free, since it doesn’t feel like we can do hardly anything. And… wait for Marvin to wake up?”

If he does wake up. Henrik grinds his teeth and presses closer into Jackie’s shoulder. “I hate waiting,” he growls.

“I know, man. Me too. Me too.”

But they’re doing everything they can already.

Please let it be enough.

Please don’t let them be gone forever.

They stand – for a long time – in that cold stairwell. They hold on to each other.

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

Marvin sees, in his dreams, the poison.

On his handcuffs he is immobilized as an insect in dark amber, his blue eyes glittering, agonized, in his skull. There is nothing left in him. He can feel death like a dog at his throat.

“Marvin,” sobs Chase. “Marvin!”

“Here I am,” he needs to say. “Here I am, amata! I’ll help you. I’ll fix it!”

But he can’t speak and he can’t move. He can barely stare down at Chase beneath him, watching the poison fill his little brother up.

“Marvin, there’s something in my head! Please help me! Where are you?”

His eyes flicker and drip blood and Chase whimpers, clawing at his head as his irises move through a dance of different colors. In the end, they settle on black. He heaves and something like ink comes pouring out of his mouth.

“I don’t know what to do,” Marvin croaks. “I don’t know how to help.”

He can feel his body convulsing on a bed and strong arms holding him gently, protecting his head. He can feel their heart beating through the point of contact. He can feel Henrik’s hands.

“Here I am, here I am,” he is whispering to him. “I’ll help you. I’ll fix it. Just hold on for me, my brother.”

“Schneep,” he tries again. Maybe he could speak this time, but something cold and plastic has filled his throat up, and his pain is so high his whole body trembles from it.

“Here I am. Here I am. Marvin, don’t die. I can’t lose you. Just rest. Here I am.”

A needle slides into his throat. Fog fills his head like a lake at dawn. He sleeps.

But he doesn’t sleep forever.

-----------

Someone is whistling softly around the room.

Back and forth, back and forth with a sweet song Marvin doesn’t recognize. Maybe he’s just too tired to search his brain for the sound of the song and find its name. Memories have been painful recently anyways. He will just stay right here in the present. And listen to the pretty song.

He lies there for a long time, feeling stunningly comfortable and incredibly cozy for the first time in days. Being awake is nice. He thought it would be scary again, but it’s nice. Nice with pretty music. He can tell he’s been taken out of that silent white room where he was all alone for so long, and he’s glad of it. His eyes slide open. Nice with pretty music and a comfortingly familiar figure wandering across the room, back and forth, back and forth.

There’s a rush of dazed fondness through Marvin’s head. He hears himself giggle strangely, his head flopping back against his pillows. He’s so sleepy but he feels so nice, really nice.

Jamie’s whistling cuts off and his nice shoes tap against the floor as he hurries to Marvin’s side, sitting down in a hard plastic hospital chair at his side and reaching tentatively for his hand, though he doesn’t quite touch him. Marvin turns his head again to look at him, smiling dizzily. He sees the trepidation in his little brother’s face and tilts his head quizzically, his fingers twitching for his hand. Jameson should know he can always hold his hand if he wants to. Everyone has different boundaries in their family, but Marvin doesn’t think he’s ever been bothered by Jameson touching him, at least not since they first became friends.

Jameson smiles softly and touches his hand. Or his fingers, more like. Marvin frowns and looks down his arm.

Did he break it? There’s a stiff white cast from beneath his wrist all the way up to his knuckles. Jameson makes a soft, soothing sigh of a noise and scoots closer to him, cradling his weary fingers and rubbing his arm above the cast.

Marvin decides he feels too nice to be distressed about it. He smiles again and tries to make the sighing noise back at Jameson. Jamie smiles and Marvin feels delighted about it. He finds his other hand after a moment of mentally searching his body for all of its parts, and this hand is only bandaged around the wrist, so he reaches out to touch Jameson’s face, carding his fingers lovingly through his beard. Jameson’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment, but he doesn’t protest, still smiling gently down at him.

Is Marvin in the hospital? He doesn’t know why. He feels great.

Jameson’s free hand reaches up to sign, but Marvin snatches it out of the air and draws it fondly to his face. Jameson looks surprised for certain at that, but he only laughs. In his right mind, Marvin would probably realize it was rude to stop him from signing, but he isn’t exactly in his right mind right now.

Jameson frees his other hand from Marvin’s broken one and holds it up flat above his head. It’s a sign that usually means “tall.” Right now, Marvin’s pretty sure it means “high.”

He giggles wildly, squeezing his eyes shut. That’s so funny. He is, yeah. He’s so high. He’s high like a teenager. Henrik must have gotten him the good stuff, the really good stuff. Mhhh. It’s nice. He’s high! He laughs and runs Jameson’s fingers across his cheek, though a sting of pain stops him and he jerks in surprise, opening his eyes to look up at JJ, alarmed.

“Broken,” signs Jameson gently, bringing Marvin’s hand back to his cheek. He feels bandages and, beneath them, scratchy stitches. “Healing.”

He doesn’t want his cheek to be broken. That’s so mean and sad and he’s going to look so ugly. He scowls at Jameson and shakes his head, tears prickling in his eyes. Jamie smiles with real sympathy and sighs at him again, massaging his good hand.

Okay, that’s nice again. Marvin takes the hand and puts it in his hair and Jameson runs his fingers across his scalp without protest, close enough that Marvin can feel his familiar warmth. Marvin blinks sleepily and touches his mouth. Jameson chuckles and begins to whistle for him again.

That’s nice.

That’s all really nice.

He feels good.

Everything’s okay.

“Okay?” asks JJ.

Marvin nods, a dopey grin fixed on his mouth.

“Talk?”

Marvin pauses, confused.

“Talk,” repeats Jameson slower. It’s a sign that means speak or sign. Communicate. “Feeling okay? Talk to me?”

Oh, yeah, talking. That’s something people do. Marvin coughs and looks up at the ceiling.

Um… talk.

He can do that.

It’s easy. You just kind of open your mouth and make sounds. For words you know the meaning of. Or you just put your hands up and move them. Come on, Marvin. You’re a fucking linguistics major. He has to be able to find the right words somewhere in his addled brain.

But he just… can’t.

He looks over at Jameson, who’s assuring him it’s okay if he can’t talk or doesn’t want to. “Just need to rest,” he’s soothing, and Marvin can read the words perfectly on his hands, understands and processes immediately. “Just take it easy, okay? Should I get Schneep?”

He understands everything he’s saying. He’s not intubated anymore and his throat is sore, yes, but not sore enough to silence him. But he can’t speak. He can’t find the right words.

Something’s wrong.

“It’s okay,” promises Jameson, moving forward quickly to thumb away the tears sliding down his face. “Poor Marvin, big brother, it’s okay. Love, love.”

But it’s not okay. Marvin stares up at the ceiling, trying to find the right words, and he begins to realize just how not okay everything is.

This is the hospital. He’s in the hospital and he’s high on morphine or whatever it is Henrik gave him. He’s in the hospital and his cheek is broken and his wrists are bandaged and beneath the warm haze of the drugs there is an undercurrent of pain waiting to swallow him whole the moment his medication is reduced. A thrill of fear squirms down his aching spine.

Something bad must have happened to him.

Something bad happened and then… and then…

In his dreams, poison.

“Ch-chase.”

Warm water runs down his face. He stares up at the ceiling, mouth trembling. Jameson leans in close to him, his face sad and worried, and all Marvin can seem to do is reach out and touch him, running his fingers through his hair as his memories float back to him, faraway but painful still.

“Chase,” he whimpers.

In the whole of his brain, it seems to be the only word he can find, and he clings to it, staring up at Jameson, begging him to make it all better and tugging at him, trying to bring him closer, closer, wanting to know that his little brothers are safe.

“Chase. Chase.”

JJ sighs his soothing sigh and climbs carefully into the bed beside him. Marvin’s never been more grateful to have someone next to him in his whole fucking life – except, maybe, when Jameson and the others arrived in that cold and terrible basement to save him from his torment. The memory turns his tears into quiet sobs.

Jameson wraps his arms around him and puts his head in his chest. Marvin runs his fingers through his brother’s hair and cries against his pillows, exhausted and unhappy, feeling broken and sick. Jameson’s body and the soothing of the drugs are his only protection against everything that happened, and he clings to them like the lifelines they are, repeating Chase’s name in a soft, miserable daze no matter how many times Jameson tries to tell him he’s alive and receiving treatment in the psych ward.

That’s how Henrik finds them perhaps an hour later, though Marvin can’t seem to get any track of how time is moving around him. He’s gone quiet, but still the hot tears are dripping down his cheeks. Still he’s stroking Jameson’s hair and remembering all too clearly the things that happened to him and the sight of his little brother filled up with Anti’s poison.

“Marvin,” Henrik whispers, real fear in his voice, and Marvin looks up and sees his own mortality in his friend’s eyes.

I’m not okay, am I? he wants to ask, but even for this, he cannot speak; he cannot find the words.

Henrik touches his unbroken hand. Marvin wraps his fingers around Henrik’s and Jameson cuddles closer against his chest. The three of them breathe together, in silence.

Eventually, Henrik turns Marvin’s medication back up, and the world becomes warm and pleasant again, and he listens to Jamie whistling for as long as he can keep his eyes open.

--------

“This place really is a shithole,” says Max, teething at his lip as he stares around the trashed little apartment. “What exactly are you looking for?”

Jackie tears the drawers open and then slams them shut again, shaking his head as he continues his ransacking. “Just anything that’ll help Chase, I guess.”

“Couldn’t you get something from his room back home? This place is a dump. I don’t think Anti’s been buying him souvenirs or anything, you know?”

“I tried bringing him stuff from home. Actually he played Animal Crossing for a little while after I had the nurse bring him his Switch, but he didn’t even look at the pictures of Hunter and Izzy and he doesn’t really seem to… get it. It’s like he doesn’t even remember.”

Jackie sighs and closes the fridge, tossing out a couple packs of rotting deli meat. There isn’t much else in there and the cupboards are bare of anything but an empty pack of Oreos and half a jar of black olives.

“Schneep won’t listen to me when I tell him about the journal,” he says. “About how Chase and Anti both got, like, mashed together. He thinks Anti’s trying to trick me and Chase is just tucked away somewhere in their head, sleeping or watching or trying to get out.”

“Well, there’s a chance he’s right, right?” In his boredom, Max has begun cleaning, wetting one of the abandoned shirts on the floor with water and wiping the counters down. “Schneep probably knows Anti better than you do, to be fair. Maybe that journal was just moments of weakness.”

“Okay, yes, he does know Anti better than me. But I think the fact that Anti’s done so much to him is making it really hard for him to see anything but Anti in that person. Even when he acts like Chase, he thinks it’s a trick. I don’t know. I just want to try everything I can.”

“That’s fair,” says Max. “I mean, he can act all he wants, but we found those toys still here, so he can’t be entirely immune to some cute shit, even if he is mostly Anti.”

Jackie stands up straight. “Max, you’re a genius.”

“Oh,” says Max, flushing dark and shifting his weight from side-to-side, a shy smile on his mouth. “What did I do?”

“Where are those stuffed animals? They were for his kids. If he kept them, they have to mean something to him, right? Or he would have destroyed them. Plus they’re just nice to cuddle with, I bet.”

“They were by the mattress.”

Jackie moves over to the mattress and finds the stuffed animals flopped against the wall where he left them. He takes them back in his hands and buries his face in them, rubbing against the soft fuzz of Izzy’s dragon and the smoothness of Hunter’s squished seal.

“I hope you guys have been keeping my little brother company while he’s been trapped,” he mumbles, shoving them into his hoodie pocket. “Let’s get these back to the hospital.”

“Get you a coffee and a snack on the way?” offers Max, still dark in the cheeks.

Jackie frowns up at him, getting to his feet. “I should really get back.”

“You’ll make Schneep more stressed if you don’t take care of yourself,” says Max.

“That’s… true.”

“Come on. I’ll get you whatever you want.”

Jackie can’t help but smile, chuckling as he steps towards him. “You’re too good to me, man.”

Max is definitely blushing now, but Jackie’s always known him to be shy. “That’s what, uh, friends are for,” he answers, smiling back. “I’d, well. I’d be happy to get you something, Jackie. I like to.”

“Hey!” A voice in the doorway makes them both turn to find a disgruntled-looking old man regarding them uncertainly from the hallway. “Here to tell me why my tenant’s gone missing? He’s about three months behind on rent and now he’s disappeared.”

“Don’t worry about it,” replies Jackie easily, picking up Chase’s old bracelets from the windowsill and heading towards the door. “I’ll pay you that and however much it is to end his contract. He’s not living here anymore. My little brother’s coming back home.”

“And if Anti comes back here,” adds Max. “Call the cops. He’s wanted for murder. Like… a lot of murder.”

“What?”

“Send us the bill! Bye!”

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

“Hey, is that Jamie?” asks Jackie, still shoving fries in his mouth. He hasn’t eaten all day. Luckily he funneled all of the rest of Henrik’s leftover pasta into his mouth while crying last night at eleven while home alone because Schneep forced him to go try and get some sleep at home, but other than that he’s been missing meals. It was pretty good pasta. Salty.

“What?” says Max, tilting his head.

And then, after a moment:

“Yeah, that’s definitely Jamie.”

“I wish that just once it wasn’t one of my little brothers being weird in public. Just once!”

“Says the vigilante!”

Jackie snorts and rolls down Max’s window. “Hey! Dippin’ dots! What are you doing standing mysteriously in front of a random alleyway with a tray full of hospital cafeteria food? You okay, Jamie?”

Jameson turns around, blinking down at the tray of food in his hands. He looks confused as to how it got there and looks up to shrug at his brother. His eyes are burning silver.

“Fuck,” swears Jackie, leaving his fries behind and getting out of the car. “Here, give me the tray. Another vision?”

“I just felt like I had to come here,” mumbles Jameson’s hands as he stares dazedly down the alleyway. “Like it was important.”

“You walked a couple blocks from the hospital in a trance?”

“I… guess I did?”

“That sucks, bud, I’m sorry you got confused. We’re going to have to keep an eye on you while you get this magic stuff figured out. Got your location on on your phone?”

“Yes, Jackie, like you always tell me.”

“Thatta boy. Come on, poor guy, let’s get you out of the cold.”

Max grins at Jameson as he gets back in the car. “We have to stop meeting like this,” he teases.

Jameson smiles back weakly and rubs at his quieting eyes. “Thanks for picking me up. It smells like Wendy’s in here.”

Max looks at Jackie. “Should we turn around and go back to Wendy’s?”

“We should turn around and go back to Wendy’s.”

“This must have been what my trance was for,” signs Jameson cheerfully, setting aside the cafeteria food, and Jackie laughs and passes him the rest of his French fries. He’s glad Max made him take a break. He’s been stressed. In retrospect, the crying into his pasta might have been a red flag about his anxiety levels.

But everything will turn out okay. It has to. It has to.

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

Marvin needs surgery on his wrist.

“Just going to put you under for a little while and I’ll do it myself, okay?” says Henrik, sitting at his side. “Quick surgery, not too many wrists. Risks, I meant. Dammit. You had some tearing from the convulsions while you were in the handcuffs and it’s broken, but it should heal okay in a few months after this gets done. Does that sound okay?”

He tries to smile at Henrik. His little brother smiles back, rubbing his shoulder slowly. Marvin can tell he’s scared, but not about the surgery. He wants to ask him more questions, but he still can’t seem to speak, and Henrik isn’t offering up a lot of information. Probably for his own good. He’s still on a lot of medication and Schneep keeps saying he doesn’t need to stress. Just rest and keep fighting. Rest and keep fighting. Marvin doesn’t know how to choose to do that.

He doesn’t know if he can.

But a surgery on his wrist isn’t too scary, not while he’s this high and Henrik is here reassuring him.

“Sign this for me, okay? Saying you’ve been informed.”

He hands Marvin a form on a clipboard. Marvin can read it just fine – basic shit about informed consent and risks involved. Apparently there’s a chance of losing all feeling in his hand, but he figures he’s a lot more screwed over if he doesn’t get the surgery, and he trusts Henrik anyway, even if he probably shouldn’t be performing on family. He signs the paper with his good hand.

Or tries to.

All that appears on the paper in one long squiggle.

He stares down at his attempt at a signature, faintly alarmed through the haze in his mind, and then up at Henrik. A faint whine falls from his mouth, a weak attempt at his brother’s name. Henrik frowns and scoots forward, worried, looking at the paper as he holds it out to him.

His mouth purses. He looks back at Marvin and doesn’t speak for a moment.

Marvin touches his throat. “It’s probably just the drugs,” murmurs Henrik, trying again to smile for his sake. “But I think I’ll have the speech specialist come see you when you’re ready. Lie back down, alright? I bet Jackie will be a ball of energy as soon as he hears you were awake, and I’m going to schedule your surgery for tonight. Okay?”

Marvin nods.

“You can understand me just fine, right, my brother? Can you blink twice for me?”

Marvin blinks, once, twice.

Henrik smiles and grips his good hand, eyes warm and concerned. “Okay,” he says.

And then, to Marvin’s surprise, he takes off his coat and he stays.

“Technically I’m on my vacation days,” he murmurs by way of explanation. “So I told Nadia you’re the only patient I care about. Okay, you and that really cute kid on third floor. He’s my favorite.”

Marvin smiles wide and earnest this time, and Henrik smiles right back.

“Should I read to you?” he asks.

Marvin nods. He would like that. Henrik gets out Life of Pi. Marvin’s been meaning to read it.

“This book was born as I was hungry. Let me explain.”

His accent is so warm and familiar these days. Marvin remembers long nights spent up with him, Henrik home from a graveyard shift and Marvin home from a night with his friends. A night like the other night, but without getting kidnapped before he could go home. A good night, and Henrik’s dry wit and unspoken love when he came home maybe the best part of it.

“In the spring of 1966, my second book, a novel, came out in Canada. It didn’t fare well. Reviewers were puzzled, or damned it with faint praise…”

Marvin listens to him read and thinks that he could write a book of his own, just about his wild little family and everything they’ve been through. He thinks about how this could have been the end of his book. Maybe it still will be. He made his peace with it when he was in those handcuffs, or at least when he got the chance to see Henrik and the others one more time. Maybe they should have let him go then. Maybe that was the end of it, and the chapter closed, and the book would leave you feeling sad, but also moved by it in a way that mattered more than you had realized it would when you began reading.

“… Green hills heavy with mists would lie at my feet and the shrill cries of monkeys would fill my ears. The weather would be just right, requiring a light sweater mornings and evenings, and something short-sleeved midday…”

Green hills heavy with mists. Monkeys and clean warm air and bright light somewhere on the horizon. He daydreams to Henrik’s voice and Martel’s words and thinks that this isn’t so bad, not really. Yes. Maybe this is meant to be the end of him yet.

But Chase.

Chase.

The only word left on his tongue.

He has to help his little brother. He can’t end the story without him. Without knowing he’s safe, and well, and maybe even, if Marvin can swing it, happy.

Marvin registers vaguely that his eyes feel oddly swollen, and then he lets himself loose in the world Henrik is presenting for him, and drifts without fear, on a boat in the ocean with a tiger still sleeping in the empty bed on the other side of his hospital room.

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

He stands in the doorway in black and white, with a pair of stuffed animals clutched to his chest.

“What do you want?”

His voice is loud and slurred, his head rolling back against his pillows, straining his neck and coughing. Determined wrists pull weakly at their restraints. The ferocity of his words is undermined by the low, agonized groan he gives out afterwards.

“What do you want?” he repeats again, shrill and screamed. “Let me go, let me…”

Jameson sits quietly down beside him, the seal and the dragon on his lap.

“Little fucker,” mumbles Anti, mumbles Chase, looking up at his big blue eyes and his all-too-sweet expression, so soft and concerned. “Pinned me down. Gave me a concussion. Little brat. I’d be home right now if not for you.”

Jameson nods, tilting his head back and forth a little as though admitting it.

“I’m tired, Jamie,” he says, thunking his head back against the pillow.

“You’re on a lot of medication.”

“How are you in here, anyway?”

“Jackie’s friend is distracting the cops for me.”

“Jackie having a friend,” he growls. “There’s the real shocker.”

“You and Jackie are friends,” answers Jameson calmly. “You love him.”

“Shut the fuck up, you sappy, weepy, pathetic little child of a man. What you come in here for, huh? You want to see your papa? Does Chase take care of the little baby? Everybody knows you can’t take care of yourself, after all. You’re just a whining, mute, needling little – ”

“Is your pain very high?”

Jameson can see him trying to breathe. It doesn’t look easy. He’s stressed. He’s scared. He stares at Jameson and doesn’t seem to know how to answer.

“Anti,” he says, his hands clear and careful. “Chase. I know you both very well. And the truth is that I don’t want to see either of you in pain, even after everything Anti did to me. I still remember the days when I thought of you as my family. When I loved you.”

He stares down at his bedsheets. Jameson sighs and gets to his feet, standing over him, and he shudders and gives a soft whine, curling in on himself, his face pale and frightened.

“Do the nurses treat you well?” asks Jameson. “The cops leave you alone? Have you been out of this room at all?”

“I want to go,” he whispers, licking at his dry lips. “I want to go back home. I want to – I want to – I’ll make you all pay for this. I’ll slit Henrik’s white throat like I always meant to do and you and Jackie can writhe for trapping me here. Your fault, your fault… please let me go, p-please, I’m…”

Jameson places the seal stuffie on his lap and the dragon on his shoulder.

He breathes in the smell for a moment, his hollowed eyes flickering. The last six months have not been good for him, for either of his fighting parts, but they did manage to hold on to some things here and there – most importantly, a place to stay, a place where he wasn’t trapped and no one hurt him, where there was a soft, if broken mattress and a couple soft animal toys that made him feel happy somewhere in the back of his mind. This dragon smells like home. His fingers touch the soft body of the squished seal.

“I don’t know what you think this is going to accomplish,” he mumbles, wishing he could wrap his arms around himself, because he is the only person who has held him in months and his flesh is aching for it. “I’m not… I’m not… not what you think I am.”

“Like I said.” Jameson sits down beside him again, his hand resting gently on the bed beside Anti’s. A little closer and he could touch him. “I know you both pretty well.”

His fingers touch Chase’s.

He goes very still.

Jamie holds his hands and they sit together for a long time.

The lights buzz above them. Outside the window of the room, a pair of finches flicker back and forth. The sunlight touches their skin.

Jameson draws away a moment. His brother chokes, shaking his head, groaning for the loss of him, but he only gets to his feet and places his body against him, wrapping him into a careful hug. Warm arms encircle him like a sweater and squish comfortingly against his body, and all he wants to do – all he wants to do in the whole fucking world – is wrap his arms around JJ in return and pull him into his lap and be held for hours. He’s panting and burying his face against Jameson’s chest, whimpering to be touched at last, to be kindly touched at last.

“Chase,” Jameson signs against his heart. “Chase, my Chase.”

Chase clings to his hands and cries.

“Please let me go,” he begs. “Please, please, I can’t get it out!”

“I’m right here,” promises Jameson, kneeling down to look at him and stroking his hair. “You’re going to keep fighting, okay? You’re going to cast him out.”

“No, I can’t,” he cries. “We can’t tell each other apart anymore. You have to help me, I can’t, I got lost, I got stuck! I tried, I promised, I wanted to go home. Now I can’t even remember what home is. We’re too tangled up!”

“We’re going to help you get him out, okay?”

“There’s nothing you can do. Please, you have to let us free. Kill us, JJ, we’re tearing each other apart.”

“Hey.” Jameson takes his hands in his own for a moment and squeezes them before drawing away again to speak. “Don’t say things like that. You will only get yourself stuck in this place longer if you do. Besides, Anti’s always said things like that to manipulate me. You won’t move me with words like that.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” he screams, and when he grabs Jameson by the side – the only place where he can reach him with his hands restrained – and digs his overgrown nails as hard as he can into his little brother’s stomach, Jameson does not so much as flinch, just closes his eyes and waits for the rage to go away. “Stupid little boy! This isn’t something you can remove with kind words or Henrik’s scalpels.”

“Then we will find another way,” answers Jameson, soft crescent moons of blood welling against his shirt. “You have to trust me.”

“You betrayed me,” he hisses. “Left me behind to go be someone else’s family. Left me alone!”

“You didn’t treat me well, my brother. I’m happier without you. Without Anti, at least. I gave you everything I was. If you had been kind to me, I would have stayed.”

He scowls and shoves him away, gritting his teeth and seething, nuzzling his face against Izzy’s dragon, tears running down his cheeks. “Look how weak we are,” he cries. “We both broke each other. There’s nothing you can do… nothing anyone can do… I’ve been trying to get free for so long.”

Jameson sits down again, tucking away the small bloodstains on his shirt without anger in his eyes, and when he takes his brother’s hand again, he does not try to dig his nails into his palms. Just holds on to him.

“I can’t promise you I have everything figured out right now,” says JJ after a moment of comfort. “I don’t know exactly how to save you, Chase. But here’s what I do know – you are touch-starved. You are scared and you have every right to be. You’re not well and you’ve lost a lot of weight because you’ve never known how to take care of human bodies well. So here’s what we can do. I’m going to make sure you’re getting some Cymbalta, because that was Chase’s prescription when he was suicidal. And I’m going to sit here with you as long as I can so you’re not alone and I can touch you. And I have Wendy’s. And you’re going to eat it.”

He holds up a brown paper bag with a pig-tailed girl on it and smiles. “Because the hospital food is pretty shit and I don’t blame you for refusing it.”

He stares at him, eyes wide. Jameson stares back, smiling.

“You’re out of your mind, baby brother,” he says, and then he laughs despite himself, weak and shaken, and takes Jamie’s hand again.

“Probably,” he signs with one hand, and gets up to kiss the side of his head and feed him a handful of fries.

There’s only so much he can do. But he will do it. He will do it. And he will love him with every moment that passes, harder and harder, until Chase can find his way back to him.

“When did you get so grown-up?” he whispers, when an hour has passed and they are sitting together in silence.

“When someone gave me the chance to grow up,” Jameson replies gently.

“I loved you, you know.”

“No,” says Jameson, and his eyes still love him, but his heart knows better. “No, Anti, you didn’t.”

They rest together, hand-in-hand, and the finches come and go, singing.

#writers of jack #jacksepticeye #jse egos #bee writes #see tws #poison

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jokerfan99 · 4 years ago

Photo

Icebreaking (RWBY/RVB) by Necroceph

*RVB Opening Theme*

Grif: Ugh... Simmons: Grif. Grif? GRIF! Grif: Wha- Mom? Simmons: Nope it's your old pal, Simmons. Grif: Oh man, I had the weirdest dream. There was this blonde chick who emerged from this crashed ship. She was hot as hell, you could've seen her! But then all the sudden she started sabotaging everything just to cover her tracks because she claimed that Command kidnapped her because they chose her to be a new host for O'Malley. Yang: Who's O'Malley?

That was no dream!

Grif: O-oh fuck... me.

He faints again.

Ruby: Not again! That's the third time he fainted. Next one might end up a coma. Sarge: Dagnabbit. Lopez, get a bucket of hydrofluoric acid. Water won't work this time. Lopez: Sí señor. Ruby: Wait won't that kill him? Donut: Nah I think he'll be alright. Probably with just a few bald spots. Ruby: Okay... By the way, Yang, what is Omega? Yang: Hey don't ask me, I only heard it from the guards. But from the way your team reacted, it looks like they know what it is. Ruby: Do you? Sarge: Of course we know him. He's our greatest nemesis. A crazed computer program that tried to kill all of us with his rockets and his laughs. Ah, those were the good old day. Simmons: No it wasn't! He made me call, Sarge a cocksucker!

WHACK!

Simmons: OW! Sarge: Still haven't forgive you for that. Donut: He tried to kill us with a robot army. Lopez: Incluso me secuestró y me convirtió en su asistente personal del mal. Ruby and Yang:... Huuuuuh? Simmons: Christ, let me tell you in detail. Long story short, he's an angry unstable megalomaniac AI used by a mercenary the Blues hired years ago. He went loose and started trying to kill every last one of us while possessing the body of conscientious objector with a rocket launcher. He was destroyed when he went into a Pelican with a bomb rigged inside it. Do you get the jist? Ruby:... Yang:... Ruby: I got lost when you said 'conscientious objector with a rocket launcher'. Simmons: Ugh... you know, forget what I said! Donut: C'mon, Simmons. You'll have to try harder. Give a story a little... 'pizzazz'. Ruby: I don't know what they're talking about, but I really wanna be in their world for five minutes. Yang: Totally. It must've been very fun here before you came. Simmons: Sigh, I don't understand. How did Command get their hands on him? Didn't the Pelican blew up with him and Tex inside? Sarge: Of course it did. I made sure he stayed dead by adding more payload inside the ship, strong enough to obliterate everything in a fifteen mile radius into space dusts. That explosion was a huge sight to behold! Lopez: Realmente no era tan grande. Simmons: And did you remove the ship's radio before that?

Both stared at each other for a moment.

Sarge:... Ah fiddlesticks. Simmons: HOW COULD YOU FORGET ABOUT THE RADIO?! Caboose: Hello! Weiss: Quiet!

Someone's calling from outside.

Yang: Who's that? Simmons: The Blues. Sarge: Captain Ahab's Barnacles, they must be here to salvage the ship for themselves. Damn vultures! Donut, Rose, go handle them. Donut: Wha- what about you guys? Sarge: One: Me and Lopez are trying to wake Grif up with EXTRA pain. And Two: Simmons' is needed here to find where O'Malley is being held at. The black box might contain information where did was being headed. Simmons: I would love to do that, Sir. IF YANG DIDN'T DESTROY THE COMM'S ROOM! Yang: I said I was sorry! Ruby: Why not call, Vic? Maybe he can ask you. Simmons: Oh please. He isn't that dumb enough to give us, O'Malley's exact location... unless... Sarge, permission to rip out the Warthog's radio. I have an idea. Sarge: Now wait a minute, you can't just rip out a piece of the Warthog! That's a penalty of- Simmons: I can do extra shifts. Sarge: Deal! Yang: Hey what about me? I can also fight those guys too. I really need to stretch this punching muscles of mine. Sarge: Punching muscles, hmm? I see why not. Permission granted. Alright, Lopez. Ready to pour that acid on him. Ruby: Yes! It's good to have you fight by my side. Yang: Hey, you're not going to let me miss out the fun. So, Donut. How many out there? Donut: Two. Yang: Two?! I expected more than fifty. Donut: Nah just two. There was suppose to be three more but I'm not sure why they didn't come along. Ruby: Hmm... maybe it's a Blue tactic. The two waiting outside are acting as a distraction while the other three are prepared to ambush us. Yang: That means we'll be surrounded. But that ain't a problem for me once I kick their asses. Donut: You against five of them? Wow, you're a bigger badass than I thought. Ruby: Trust me, she is. Back at basic, she destroyed an entire team all by herself without needing any help. It was awesome. Yang: Thank you. So what do you know about those two? Donut: Well there's Caboose on the tank and then there's Weiss. Yang: A tank, huh? That'll be easy once I throw my homemade... who was the other person?

Outside

Weiss: This is the Blue team! Come out with your hands up or be destroyed. There's no point in fighting 'cause we have a tank that outguns your pathetic little Warthog. But if do you seek battle, that's fine by me. That is all.

She turns off the megaphone and turns to Caboose, sitting inside the tank.

Weiss: Alright, Michael. We're just here to talk about the ship, no need to go all guns blazing. Caboose: If we're here to talk with the Red, why did we bring, Sheila here? Weiss: Just for precaution. Plus, I intend to see a shell liquifying both Ruby's legs. Caboose: Okay. Hi, Donut!

Donut appeared on the roof alone. Where is the rest of the Reds?, Weiss thought. Something's up and good thing she brought the tank.

Donut: Hi, guys! Hey where's everybody else? Weiss: Busy scrubbing the floors with their toothbrushes. That's what happens when you don't report anything important to your leader. (whisper) Keep an eye out for, Ruby. We're here to talk about the ship. Do you know what happened to it and where it came from? Donut: Didn't you guy's hear the crash yesterday? Caboose: Weiss didn't hear it because she was singing in the bathroom when it happened. Donut: Ooh can she sing Mordern Major General? Weiss: No. Donut: Sorry, guys. But there's nothing left to trade with you except ash and stuff. And it wasn't carrying anything too. Weiss: We're not here to trade. We got enough SMGs in the armory. How can you be sure it wasn't carrying anything? Donut: Yang told us. Weiss: I-I-I'm sorry, can you repeat what you said? Donut: I said... Yang: (offscreen) Shh! Not now. Donut: I should go back inside. We're quite busy today. Grif fainted not too long ago. Sarge and Lopez are trying to wake him up. Simmons' working on a pet project on communication and I was sewing silk for the winter. Weiss: Silk?! You don't use silk for the winter, you idiot! And winter isn't coming in another six months. Donut: I mean- Sangheili silk. It's a very nice alternative to wool... kinda Weiss: Really? And tel me, what is Rose doing? Donut: Making runs around the base. Weiss: Oh you mean... HER?

Weiss sticks out her foot slightly up in the air. Then a flash of red accident trips on the leg and crashes on the tank, head first. Ouch, that did not go as plan.

Ruby: Ow...! Weiss: Ah, poor old, Rose. Always forget that I've read every move she makes back at Beacon. Alright, Donut, enough games...

HISSSSS

The sound of hissing caught her attention. It came from next to her and... oh no. A plasma grenade is stuck onto the turret!

Caboose: Why do hear a snake hissing? Weiss: MICHAEL, GET OUT OFF THERE!

Caboose quicky jumps out from the tank. They both ran away until the grenade explodes, blowing the tank into pieces. Bye bye, Sheila (or her body), you will not be missed.

BOOOM!

Caboose: SHEILA, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

At Blue Base.

Church and Tucker could see the mushroom cloud erupted on the field. Must be one hell of a fight out there.

Tucker: Man I'm glad we're here cleaning up the base. Hey, Church can I burrow your toothbrush? Church: No.

Back at Red Base.

Weiss: KUFF KUFF... Michael, are you alright? Caboose: Yes, I'm fine. But Sheila... sniff... is dead. Weiss: What the hell was that? There's no way a plasma grenade can create an explosion that big! Yang: Unless it was made by me, YOU WHITE HAIRED BITCH!

That voice, that tone. No it couldn't be. She turned to the direction of the voice and sees a Red soldier carrying the same weapon that almost split her head into a bloody mess. And the only one carrying it is...

Weiss: Oh no...

Yang Xiao Long.

Yang: Hello, Weiss. Long time no see. Caboose: Weiss, is that the angry friend you talked about? Weiss: Yes. Yes she is... RUUUUN!

Weiss grabs Caboose's hand and run away from Yang. However they were stopped when three more plasma grenades land in front of them and exploded, creating two large craters roughly about 12 meters in diameter, six meters in depth.

Weiss: Oh crap! This is Weiss Schnee to Blue base, we require reinforcements, NOW! Yang: NO ONE'S COMING TO SAVE YOUR FIRST CLASS ASS, SCHNEE! Just you, me and these two babies, Mr. and Mrs Fisty.

Yang cracks her knuckles as she approaches towards them, with raging red eyes focused on the one and only teammate who ran away.

Weiss: AAAAAH! MICHAEL, KEEP THAT PSYCHOPATH AWAY FROM ME!

Weiss quickly hides behind Caboose, cowering herself away from that golden monster that tried to kill her. Yang stopped as her path is block by Caboose who stood calmly between her and Weiss.

Caboose: Hello... big scary lady... with big boobs. My name is, Caboose. You must be,... Yang. Yang:... Caboose:... Yang:... Uhm...hi? Do I know you? Caboose: Yeah, Weiss told me that t you are the angry friend. She also told me that you and Ruby are sisters and were part of a team in the letters R, W, B and Y. Ruby: Actually it's pronounced... ow my nose!... 'Ruby', with a 'W'. Caboose: Oooh! Wait if it's pronounce Ruby, shouldn't 'W' be a 'U'? Yang: (whisper) Who is this guy? Ruby: That's Caboose. Dumbest member in the Blue team here. Yang: A mentally retarded guy serving in the Blue army, huh? I'll deal with you later.

Yang glares at Weiss.

Yang: So, Weiss. This is where you've been. Stationed in a desolate box canyon with nothing but sand and rocks. I thought you'd be in the Atlesian army by now. Weiss: GULP! Yang: What's the matter, still afraid to face me after all these years? Hmph, how pathetic. To even call yourself a soldier is just embarrasing. Caboose: Hey you can't talk, Weiss like that! She's my best friend. Yang: You... her friend? Caboose: Yeah she may be a little noisy. Weiss: Gee, Michael. Thanks. Yang: SHUT UP! Weiss: EEK! Yang: So you know who I am, that's something. But do you know what she did before she came here? Caboose: Yeah she told me that she was in a base with you during an exam. But it got attack by space pirates who want to steal things, arrrgh. She was then given orders by her teacher to escape because she had to bring back important dates before the pirates steal it. You know I like the Egyptian ones. They're very chewy like gum. Ruby: Don't you mean 'data'? Caboose: Yeah that too. Yang: And what else did she tell you about us? Caboose: Well I know is that Ruby disobeyed her orders to save everybody, leaving the pirates to take over the base. And you kicked a guy's balls because he ordered you to tell everyone to fight back despite the pirates winning. And... Weiss, what did Blake do...? Yang: TO HELL WITH ORDERS! Caboose: Mommy!

Caboose stepped back away from Yang's explosive wrath.

Yang: Those soldiers back couldn't stand a chance against them! I don't give a damn what our superiors ordered us to do, but me and Ruby won't stand idly to see them get slaughtered. And Weiss over there, just left us and those people to die, just for what? A PLACE IN ATLAS' MILITARY! Is that something you would consider her a 'friend'? Caboose:... Yep. Yang: Good... wait, what? Caboose: Uhm... because, no matter what your friends did, he'll always be your friend. Yang: That... is the most stupidest quote I've ever heared. IT MATTERS WHAT SHE DID... TO US! Now move aside so I can pummel her bitchy face! Caboose: Nope. Yang: Sigh... then you left me no choice. EAT THIS!

Yang raises her fist and strikes Caboose, only for him to catch it mid air. His quick reflexes surprised everyone. Yang's tries to yank off her fist from his tight grasps...

CRUNCH

... followed by the sound of a metallic crunch. Caboose finally lets go of her hand. Yang looks at her right hand and was shocked to see her hand has been crushed.

Yang: WHAT AND HOW?! Caboose: Sorry! I squeezed it too tight. Weiss: Holy... shit. Ruby: Is... that normal? Yang: No. This was supposed to be made out of titanium and he crushed it... as if it was paper. That's so... metal... RETREAT!!! Ruby: RUNAWAY!!!

Yang and Ruby, run like hell from Caboose. Oh the sweet irony.

Donut: (from afar) Hey, guys. Why are you running, aren't you supposed to fight them? Yang: We're not running. This is the Xiao Long secret technique! Ruby, you didn't tell me he was that strong! Ruby: I didn't know, just keep running!

Weiss emerged from the safety of Caboose's back. She can't believe, they're gone.

Weiss: My God, Michael. How did you do that? Caboose: Oh it was nothing. I don't like bullies harming my best friends. And I like catching hands. Weiss: Nothing? I've never seen Yang run away from fight before. That's was... AWESOME. Since when did you do workout? Caboose: I just drank a lot of milk till my muscles grow strong. That's what they said in the commercials. Weiss: Milk makes your bones stronger, not muscles you beautiful dope. Now then, let's get the hell out of here before Yang come's back!

In the caves.

TZZT

Vic: Hello, Project Freelancer Operational Command Center. This is your friendly neighborhood, Virtual Intelligence Computer, calling from Blood Gulch. ???: This is Command. What seems to be the problem? Vic: Finally, been calling for ten minutes. Hey listen, your drunk driver called me last night and asked if he can parked right next to the Red base. I allowed and now the ship's here, burnt up to a crisp and sitting there like it's nobody's business. ???: Copy that, V.I.C. Is it the ship, Sanctuary? Vic: That's the one. ???: And what is the status of the subject? Vic: She is hot as hell. Where did you guys pick her up, the Red Light Outpost? ???: Ahem. Vic: Sorry. The good news is, she's a-ok. The bad news, she told the Reds what happened. They're willing to hide that fine body to stroll around their territory, tsk tsk. Send in those Recovery people to pick her up. Also get aclean up crew for this mess. Seeing that ship here is an eyesore. ???: Acknowledge. We'll send in a Recovery squad. And one more thing. How's the Alpha? Vic: Still a hot head as always. Why do you ask? ???: Nothing. We just want to know its current status, that's all. Hehehe... nyehehehehehehe... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! YOU FOOLS! THE DARKNESS WILL CONSUME YOU ALL! NYEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!... Command, out.

TZZT

Vic: Hmm, must've said somethin' funny. Ah, oh well I'm sure it's nothing serious!

A/N: Sorry the is so rushed. My degree started and I've been busy lately

Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/necroceph

#weiss schnee #yang xiao long #michael j caboose #Red vs Blue #rwby #Rooster Teeth #monty oum

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 5 years ago

Text

Ectotherm - Conclusion

By extremely popular demand, I give you an actual happy conclusion to the story “Ectotherm.”

And because I can’t do anything halfway, it’s 1664 words, making it already about half the length of the original story (so you can see why I couldn’t just fold it into the conclusion chapter).

For those who have not read the original, follow the link above. The link to the AO3 version (which is expanded, with an additional scene plus a short almost-conclusion in Chapter 18) is in the notes there, and I’ll add it here since external links are sometimes iffy (PM or @ me if it doesn’t work).

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

The angel had spent the morning carving lines and curves deep into the wooden floor, until Crowley could feel every scratch and dip through the sensitive skin of his belly. Now the angel was trying to keep him at the center of the pattern, while he ran around the edge doing – something.

There was a heat lamp, but it was too far away. Why wasn’t he under it?

Crowley started sliding across the floor, coiling and uncoiling in the direction of that delicious, life-giving heat –

The angel suddenly loomed before him, hands flapping. “No, no! I told…the center…few more minutes.”

A few minutes? Crowley was cold now. He wound to the side, planning to dart around, but the angel’s feet suddenly shifted, coming down sharply in his path.

Startled, Crowley reared up, nearly as tall as the angel, to hisssss from his maximum height, head flattened, vision suddenly clear enough to see the angel’s face: eyes wide, jaw tight. Frightened. Crowley gave another hisssss, hoping that would be enough to scare the interloper away, clear a path to the heat.

But the angel merely raised his hands, moving more slowly this time. “…sorry, my…adjust the lamp…break the circle now…start all over…” The words were murky, distorted, most of them too low or soft to be perceived. “…explained…ten minutes ago…remember?”

Ten minutes? That was a long time.

No, no it wasn’t. The cold was just making his mind fuzzy again. He gave another longing look at the heat lamp, then at another, further away, tucked safely in a corner where he could bask and hide. He felt exposed, anxious, very much in danger. What if this was some kind of trap?

Then he looked again at the angel’s face. Not frightened. Worried. Sad. Tired.

Crowley trusted Aziraphale. He couldn’t remember precisely why, but it was undeniable – a deep, profound trust. If Aziraphale said he had to stay here, stay he would.

“Fasssssster,” Crowley grumbled, and twisted back to where he’d been before. A moment later, the light from the heat lamp grew a little warmer. Still not quite enough, but better.

Two more slow circuits around the marks on the floor, adjusting things and muttering, and finally the angel sat down, facing Crowley. He held out his arms, but Crowley was in no mood to be handled, pulling back into his coils.

“I need…preferably your face.” Crowley flicked his tongue, but otherwise didn’t move. “Please…”

Reluctantly, the black and red snake moved closer, lifted his head until the angel could cup his jaw with burning-hot hands. He didn’t like it and pulled away, fighting the urge to retreat.

Necessary, this is necessary. He tried to relax into the contact, tried to pretend it didn’t feel wrong.

The angel’s blue eyes fluttered shut; Crowley could just make out the tense wrinkles forming in his brow, but the stiffness in the fingers around the snake’s jaw was unmistakable. It wasn’t enough to be painful, but it was close. Crowley’s back half twisted and writhed as if ready to pull away, even while he focused his entire being on keeping his head still. Necessary. Trust him. It’s necessary.

Finally, the angel’s hands fell away, and he dropped back, breathing heavily. His eyes opened and he smiled. “…finished.”

Good.

Crowley turned and slithered under the heat lamp, stretching out for maximum comfort.

Just as he was settling in for a good late-morning nap, the angel appeared beside him again. “…you hear…finished...”

Now what? Perhaps he should go find one of the more secluded lamps, to avoid interruptions.

“…fixed you...”

Shrugging off the nap for the moment, Crowley raised his head just enough to tip it to the side. Fixed…?

The angel knelt at the edge of the heat lamp’s warmth, and spoke again, much louder. “…fixed…change back…”

Crowley tilted his head the other way. Change back…?

“Human! Crowley, human.”

It all came back in a rush. Arms. Legs. Hands. Drinking strange red water, watching birds swim, moving very fast in a large black box which made the angel very angry – human.

He reared up again.

Nothing changed.

“Hhhhhow?”

The angel shook his head, mouth working, but Crowley couldn’t hear a sound. He pushed closer, far closer than was comfortable, until the heat pits of his face were filled with the angel’s warmth, until he could see the tears gathering in blue eyes.

Crowley focused on those eyes, that shape, on every part of his life in human form that he could still make sense of.

Still no change.

Hissing with frustration, he abandoned the warmth of the heat lamp, shooting away to weave among the plants, drape himself across the sofa, even nudge his face at an open book.

No effect at all.

He couldn’t remember how to change back.

As he circled the shop again – feeling his energy sap away in the cold – he noticed the angel sitting once again at his desk. Crowley climbed up his leg, across his back, draped over his shoulders and around his chest. Felt the pure warmth, cleaner and sweeter than sunlight.

The angel wasn’t working now, of course; his chair was pointed away from the desk, as if to avoid even looking at the piles of paper. He clutched something in his hands, shoulders heaving, chest shaking with sobs. “I’m sorry…I tried…I tried so hard, but I couldn’t…I’m too late.” The voice was a little clearer now, rumbling through Crowley’s belly.

“Sssshhhhhh,” Crowley comforted as best he could, trying to nestle his head on the angel’s arms. It wasn’t a gesture he was comfortable with, but he could remember now that arms, hands, were important. Perhaps if he could get closer…

“If I hadn’t been so foolish…oh, my love…I failed you…”

But Crowley wasn’t listening. He was looking at what the angel held in his hands. He was looking at –

“Glassssssesss.”

“Wh – what?”

“Glassssess.” Crowley nudged at the angel’s hands until they parted, revealing a pair of black lenses held by silver frames. “Pleassse. Glassessss.”

It wasn’t easy to put a pair of sunglasses onto a snake’s head, even one so large as Crowley. They dangled rather uselessly down either side of his jaw, the lenses didn’t exactly cover his eyes, and where they did the world became a murky black soup he had no hope of seeing. But it felt…right.

He turned, trying to face the angel, but somehow lost his balance and tumbled to the floor.

“Crowley? Are you…Crowley?”

The voice was too crisp, too sharp, to rich. It was startling.

He shook his head and hissed, but it sounded strange. Thick. His tongue couldn’t get out because there were too many teeth.

Crowley blinked. Not because he had to, but because he suddenly realized he had eyelids.

A hand drifted over and adjusted the glasses, settling them correctly over the ears and across the nose – no that was his hand, his fingers.

His eyes drifted up and he was shocked at how clearly he could see the angel standing over him, looking more pale, more drawn, and just a bit thinner than he remembered, clothes a rumpled mess, eyes red.

“Aziraphale?”

“Crowley!”

Two arms suddenly around his shoulders, pulling him up onto legs he barely remembered how to use, wrapping around him, pulling him into the indescribable softness of Aziraphale’s embrace. It took him a moment to remember that he had arms of his own, that he could twist them, twine them, pull Aziraphale even closer.

He could still feel Aziraphale’s warmth pressing into his chest and stomach, but it no longer felt like a blazing fire, or the strange glow of life-giving heat. It was simply a body, pressed close to his. Two bodies trembling, shaking, shoulders heaving, breath ragged.

Aziraphale was still crying, still mumbling apologies into the demon’s shoulder.

Crowley was laughing.

They didn’t let each other go for a long, long time.

Crowley was warm.

No, Crowley was happy.

It wasn’t as easy to fit both bodies on the sofa in this form, but they managed – Aziraphale stretched out, Crowley, lying across his chest, legs in a tangle, head tucked against his throat, listening to the sigh of breath, the rumble of heartbeat.

They hadn’t talked about it. Aziraphale had finally admitted to being tired, and they just found themselves here as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I suppose I’ve gotten used to this,” murmured Aziraphale, who never used to lie on his own sofa, trembling fingers tracing through Crowley’s hair.

“I’m used to it, too,” he mumbled back, but used to it didn’t begin to describe it. This was right, this was home, and he knew it was more than a leftover serpentine instinct to bask that had brought him here, that would keep bringing him here for as long as Aziraphale would allow it.

Aziraphale’s right hand was still twined with Crowley’s left, resting on the angel’s chest. Crowely couldn’t stop studying it, turning it, running his thumb across fingers and knuckles and nails. He could feel more than just heat now, he could feel the softness, the rough callus on the side of one finger where Aziraphale rested his pencil as he wrote, the faint hard edges of papercuts. It was an entire world to explore, that hand, full of more wonder than Crowley had ever suspected.

“Might be more comfortable in a bed,” Aziraphale whispered, clearly already on the edge of sleep.

“I’ve got a bed,” Crowley said idly, still looking at the broken edges of Aziraphale’s nails. He’d never seen them like that before. Aziraphale had kept them perfectly manicured since the invention of manicures. “Lots of space, too. More than I can use. But then, all my plants are already here…” He trailed off, realizing what he was saying.

“Mmh,” was Aziraphale’s only reply. The fingers combing through Crowley’s hair were now almost still.

“S’alright, Angel. You rest. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Thank you for reading!

And thanks to the “demanded a happy ending crew”: @joyandotherstories @aknightofthe7kingdoms @witchingwhovian @ourpearls @ambular-d @sparkkeyper , @angel-and-serpent who has been sending me artwork of Grandma Poss (don’t ask), and my own mother who kept shouting “give your fans a happy ending” (she doesn’t read my fic but she has STRONG opinions).

Happy (late) National Serpent Day!

#ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #asexual ineffable husbands #snek crowley #protective aziraphale #my writing #crowley and aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale #crowley is a snek #hand holding #sleepy cuddles #happy ending #happy crowley #look i made it better #please don't hurt me #serpent day #advent calendar #31 days of ineffables

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