#thankfully even that knife is pretty sharp so the cut was clean. bleeding was stopped quick and it wasn’t too deep

[mars-ipan]

man. apologies to anyone who tried to talk to me yesterday and was met only by someone out of their gourd. i got VERY high yesterday i’m almost surprised i’m not still feeling it

[fly-flower-fanfics]

Bandaged Up

Hizashi Yamada (Present Mic) x Male Reader

Warnings: Depression, graphic self harm, hitting oneself, abuse mentioned, hair pulling out

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hizashi wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours. He had business at the school to do. I was thankful he wasn’t here, but it also hurt my heart. I needed him. I needed someone. All my friends — the few I had — worked at UA. I had just been left go. Today was my last day at work. I had only worked 4 hours today.

The company had been making a lot of cuts, but after working there for fifteen years, I thought I had some certainty in staying. But I guess I was wrong. Today was so stressful for me, knowing it was my last day, because Hizashi didn’t know about it.

I hadn’t told him. I couldn’t bring myself to explain that I had been let go, that I was struggling to find other work. I thought by now I would have a job again, but I didn’t. I knew this was coming, in a way.

I stopped eating as much, afraid to spend Hizashi’s money. I started wearing the same clothing a few days in a row to do less laundry, causing me to use less water. I couldn’t be a freeloader. I wouldn’t let myself become one.

I stormed into the kitchen, tearing brimming in my eyes. How was I going to tell Hizashi? I still had time to figure it out, but how would he react? Would he be mad? Think I wasn’t trying hard enough? That because I wasn’t a hero, that I brought this upon myself?

A million thoughts and questions ran through my head, making everything so loud. I covered my ears, tears now dripping down my cheeks. Yet that seemed to do nothing but amplify the sounds. I pressed my palms against my ears harder, as if adding pressure would drown out the noises. Again, it was a failure.

I knew I was spiraling now; I was working myself up. But I couldn’t seem to stop myself. My chest tightened. Hizashi was going to be so mad. He was going to yell at me. He was going to leave me. I had enough money left for a little while, maybe I didn’t have to tell him yet. But then he would wonder why I’m home all day. Maybe I wouldn’t have to tell him that either.

My arms began to ache from the pressure I was putting on my head, so I dropped my hands. But they were shaking, trembling with fear. I had to tell him. It wasn’t fair to keep secrets like that. It wasn’t right. It I’d be living with him and using his money, he had a right to know why I couldn’t pay for much anymore.

I shook my head violently, trying to breathe. No no no. No. I can’t tell him. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to do it today. Today was too much so as it is.

I curled my hands into fists, frowning when I felt a cold metal in my hand. I looked down, seeing that I now held a knife. I frowned. When did I get this? My heart skipped a beat as I sucked in a breath.

I had a history with self harm that Hizashi didn’t know about. I wouldn’t tell him. We’ve been together for a year now, but I never let him see the scars on my thighs or upper arms. I had been clean for almost six months now, so I didn’t really feel a need to tell him. I had been doing so well...

I gently touched the blade, feeling that this must have been a new knife as it was pretty sharp. I found myself carrying it to the bathroom, my feet moving without much thought.

I sat down on the lid of the toilet, staring at the metal utensil. This is a punishment for losing your job. I closed my eyes, whimpering softly. This is your punishment. You deserve this. I shifted, dropping my sweatpants to the floor around my ankles. I rolled up the edge of my boxers and looked at all the other scars that painted my skin with white marks.

A numb feeling washed over me. I stopped crying, but I didn’t dry my tears. I pressed the knife against my skin, dragging it slowly. Pain bloomed, but I didn’t dare stop. Again, I lifted the knife, pulling it back along my skin. Again. And again. And again. The blade was covered in red. My blood spilled out of the cuts smoothly, building up to run down my thigh.

I grabbed some toilet paper and drabbed at them. I shifted a bit, adjusting myself so I could make work of my other thigh. This time, I did more than simple cuts; I carved a reminder I to myself.

F A I L U R E

The letters filled with blood, making the letters look bold and running into one another as the bled more. Once again, I wiped away the blood.

My eyes then turned to my arm. I didn’t feel like I did enough. My punishment wasn’t over yet. I didn’t think as I slid the knife across my forearm, a place I hadn’t yet cut before. It was almost euphoric, cutting in a new place. Ruining the pristine skin there, knowing it would scar. I deserved it.

Feeling rushed back into my all of a sudden, the pain increasing tenfold. I cried out, dropped the bloodied knife as I stared in shock at what I had done. Six months, down the drain. Six months, gone.

Quickly, I scrambled through the bathroom cabinet for bandages, wrapping the still bleeding cuts up. In my panic, though, I realized I didn’t regret what I had done. I only was panicking because I couldn’t let Hizashi find out. I didn’t want to see his disappointment. His anger. His disgust.

I put my sweatpants back on, hiding the bandage on my thigh easily. However, I now needed a long sleeve shirt to hide my arm.

I bent down a picked up the knife, taking it with me as I went to the kitchen. I washed it off, using soap and water, and then replacing it back where I had gotten it from. Maybe Hizashi would never notice it was moved and used at all.

I made my way to the bedroom, digging through our shared dresser. I knew it would seem a bit suspicious if I used one of my own long sleeve shirts, so I stole one of Hizashi’s and slid it on. I rolled up the sleeves instead of just pushing them up in fear of exposing the bandage.

I walked back out to the living room and sat down on the couch. I felt.... weary. Drained. I stayed silent and still on the couch, just trying to feel something. Anything. Anything at all.

When they didn’t work, I went and put on a playlist that always got Hizashi and I happy and in a dancing mood. I turned the volume up and sat back down on the couch. The CD player took a little bit to load, but I didn’t mind. The quiet before the music gave me more time to think. More time to analyze.

As the music stared, I closed my eyes. Maybe that would help me feel it more. Feel the rhythms and beats. I knew all the lyrics by heart, so my lips moved soundlessly along. But I felt no different. Not happier. Not more energized. Not anything but empty.

Yet I left the music on as I got up, tending to some cleaning that the house needed. Might as well be useful for something. Besides, Hizashi was a clean freak and liked a clean house. Not that ours was dirty by any means right now, but I found myself straightening picture frames and finishing up a few dishes that were left in the sink.

“Yo, babe, having a party without me?!” I heard Hizashi’s voice come from the living room. I hadn’t even heard the front door close due to the music. I wiped my face just in case there were any stray tears on it. Thankfully, my eyes never got super red when I cried. My nose just turned pink, and maybe Hizashi wouldn’t notice that.

I walked from the kitchen, plastering a smile on my face, and greeting my boyfriend. “Welcome home,” I half yelled over the music.

Hizashi was swaying to the beat, bopping his head a bit as well. He had his signature smile on his face, too. Even then, I couldn’t make my smile feel real. Everything I was felt fake right now.

Hizashi walked up to me and wrapped me into a hug, kissing my temple. As I hugged him, I let my smile fall. Why keep up the facade if he couldn’t see me? Yet in those few seconds of being hugged and held, my fake smile gone, a long formed in my throat. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to be comforted by him. But I knew better, and he shouldn’t have to worry about me, too, on top of all his other responsibilities.

As he pulled away, I forced my smile back onto my lips. He was just as handsome as ever. A pit formed in my stomach. I don’t deserve him.

“I’m gonna go take a shower, babe,” Hizashi said.

I nodded a little bit. “All right, dear.”

He disappeared around the corner, allowing my facade to disappear as well. I went and turned off the music, taking out the CD, and putting it back in his case. Hopefully Hizashi wouldn’t want to go out tonight. I just wasn’t feeling it.

It was only about ten minutes before the water stopped and the hair dryer started. A small smile pulled back part of my lips. This meant Hizashi was going to let his hair down. I loved when he had his hair down.

He came out of the bathroom a while later. He was shirtless, decked out in only a pair of sweatpants and socks. His eyes trailed me up and down, a light smirk on his face. “Why you got so much clothing on? You’re smokin’ hot. Why don’t you come chill off with me?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

Usually his silly antics to get me to be shirtless would’ve made me laugh, but all I could was offer up a weak smile. “I’m just cold today, love.”

Hizashi’s smile faded a little bit. I knew he could tell something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what. I hoped he would let it go, but that was wishful thinking. Hizashi never let problems go unsolved.

He took a seat next to me on the bed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “You feeling okay, baby?”

“I’m okay,” I lied, shrugging lightly. “I’m just tired is all.”

Hizashi’s smile faded completely, and I knew I fucked up. I never told Hizashi I was tired, ever. I was only tired if I was sick or if I was literally falling asleep, and I had just basically told him I wasn’t either of the two.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he whispered to me, pressing a light kiss onto my cheek.

I looked down at my lap, my eyes bouncing between my thighs. I couldn’t tell him, but my emotions began to bubble to the surface, and I felt my throat tighten. I shook my head slightly, tears welling up in my eyes. I tried to blink them away.

“You won’t like it, Zashi,” I said softly.

“I don’t like when you’re upset. I’d rather you talk to me about it.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I tried to hide it from him. “You’ll be upset with me. You’ll be mad. You’ll be disgusted. I-I can’t have that. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

I pushed myself away from him, getting up and taking my hands through my hair. Tears ran down my cheeks more freely now, and my fists weakly hit the sides of my head in an attempt to think straight.

“Baby,” he whispered.

I wasn’t listening. Everything from today was bubbling back up, demanding to be felt. Demanding to be told. Demanding to be heard. My fists began to tap my head harder, causing a dull ache to spread from the spots that were being hit.

“No, no, no, Zashi, no. No, you don’t get it. You-you don’t get it.” My fingers laced themselves in my hair, tugging on it harshly. I almost yelped in pain, but it was comforting in a way. “You-you can’t understand. I-I can’t tell you. I can’t I can’t I can’t.”

I pulled harder on my hair, then raking my hands through it. I shook my hands a little once they were out of my hair, strands of it falling from my fingers. I had a bad habit of pulling out my hair when I got overwhelmed. My fingers twirled around smaller chunks now, intentionally ripping the hair out as my vision blurred further.

I heard Hizashi get up and he grabbed my wrists, squeezing them lightly. “Hey, hey, hey, baby. Don’t do that. Give me your hands. Let me see them.”

I released my hair from my grip, my hands trembling in Hizashi’s hands. He held them close to his chest, away from my head.

“Zashi....” His gaze was full of concern and sadness. It made my heart hurt. I was doing this to him. I was hurting him. My knees felt weak, and I wanted to sink to the ground. “Zashi...”

“I’m here, baby. Right here.”

I choked on a sob. “I-I lost my job. They l-let me go. I-I can’t...can’t find another one. I-I don’t know what to do. Zashi, I relapsed. It h-hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts.”

I felt myself falling, my knees too weak to keep me standing. Hizashi pulled me against his chest, lowering me to the ground with him. He stayed quiet as he pet hair lightly.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked quietly.

“Too long,” I whimpered, unsure of what answer to give him. Did he mean my self harm tendencies or my job? Both had been for a while now.

“You’re not alone, darling. I don’t want you to feel alone. I’m here. I’m here. I’m not mad at you. I love you. I love you so much.”

I was struggling to hear Hizashi over my whimpers and gasps of breath. I do desperately wanted to believe him, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t. There wasn’t any way he could truly mean what he said.

“Believe me,” he whispered, and I heard his voice break a little. “I love you. And I want to help you. I’m here for you. I got you, darling. You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He scooped me into his arms and sat me down on the bed, kneeling in front of me. He still held my hands, kissing the backs of them lightly. I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve any of that at all.

We stayed quiet for a while. He just held me, gently swaying back and forth with me in his arms. He hummed softly, running his fingers through my hair, down my back. Hizashi cradled me in his arms.

“I need you to show me,” he whispered after a little while, his eyes staring into mine. I sniffled, having calmed down a little bit when Hizashi was whispering to me.

“Sh-show you?”

“You told me you relapsed. I-I need to see. I have to make sure you’re taking care of yourself... of the cuts.”

I hesitated, shakily taking off my shirt, exposing my bandage. “Th-there’s more,” I mumbled quietly. I shuffled a little bit, sliding my sweatpants down a little to expose my boxers. I pushed them up, exposing those bandages as well. “That’s it.”

Hizashi got up, kissing my forehead. “I’m going to get something to clean them with. Okay? I’ll bandage them back up and we can cuddle after. Is that all right?”

I sniffled, biting my lower lip. I guess it would have to be, so I nodded a little. He got up and left, leaving me alone for a few seconds. I wiped at my eyes violently, angry at myself. I didn’t know how Hizashi wasn’t mad at me. Or disgusted. Or anything for that matter. He was upset. Concerned. And I didn’t understand why.

He came back, a bottle, some bandages, and paper towels in hand. “It’s going to sting a little bit, okay?” I nodded, sniffling again.

He undid the bandages gently, taking in the red, abused skin. He didn’t stay anything as he carefully began to clean the ones on my legs. I didn’t watch him do it. I couldn’t. It wasn’t because it hurt a lot, but because I didn’t want to see the way his eyes held the pain and sorrow of my actions.

I heard him gasp softly as he moved to my other thigh, the one with the word carved into it. Fresh tears welled up in my eyes. I felt his hands shake as he cleaned the wound.

“You’re not a failure,” he whispered to me. “Never.” He rebandaged my cuts, moving to my arm. He gave it the same treatment as he did to my legs.

“Do you want to cuddle?” Hizashi asked me quietly. I’d never seen him so quiet before, but maybe he knew that I needed it right now.

“Yes, please,” I whispered.

Hizashi pulled me into his arms, careful of my new bandages. He laid down with me, shifting so my legs were tangled with his, and my head laid on his chest. His hair tickled my cheek, but I didn’t mind. I closed my eyes, stifling the little hiccups from crying so much.

“Baby?”

“Hm?”

“I’m so in love with you. I love you so much. I don’t care what you’re going through; I want to go through it with you. You aren’t alone. I’ll support you until you get another job, and you don’t have to feel bad about it. I’ll be here to help you with your mental health. I’m here for you, baby boy. I’m always here for you.”

I whimpered, hiding my face in his chest. “Thank you, Zashi... I’m sorry I’m... like this.”

“No, baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. We’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. Just talk to me next time, okay?”

I let out a shuddery breath. “I’m going to try... I-I was doing so well. I just... broke...”

“We all have bad days. I’m here to help you on yours. Don’t worry about a thing, sugar. I’ve got you.”

I closed my eyes, my hand settling on his chest to feel his heartbeat. He meant everything that he was saying. I truly never loved another person as much as I loved Hizashi.

“Thank you. I love you.”

“And I love you.”

[frightfurtabby]

HimiKiyo Week 2021 Day 3- The Streets are Long-Ass Gutters

Day 3! Time for a Cyberpunk AU. What is vice and what is virtue in a dystopian future where so many have turned to crime to survive in corrupt corporate states?

I forget if I mentioned this in the last post but all the amino crosspost links will be collected and posted at the end of the week on here. 

Word Count: 3,061

Content: Lots of murder, alcohol reference

Links-

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34139533

People were suffering, toiling away at shitty jobs for next to no pay, exploited by the powerful megacorporations. Back in the past it was only nations or gangs that went to war against each other, or against themselves. The trend now for the last 100 years was corporations fighting actual bloody wars against each other instead. Sending out all the low level grunts who they had no use for anymore to die. The worst, darkest parts of humanity were on full display every day whether it was something that made the news or not.

Still, technology progressed even when it seemed everything else had regressed into feudalism. Death and Life became ever more complex as people started being able to be downloaded and uploaded like AI with most if not all memories intact. So what truly counted as being dead now? Stuff that could have killed you before could be better dealt with enough credits to pay someone under the table.

In this backdrop is where Korekiyo grew up their whole life, initially being insulated from much of it. That all changed when they didn’t have my parents protection any more. One of them found it a “step too far” to put the chip with what remained of Sister’s brain in themself. Among other traditionalist qualms about how they dressed and wanted to modify about themself, such as the metal arm and enhanced nervous system. It wasn’t surprising, given how they reacted to people like them any time the topic was in the news.

So for the next few years they were travelling, studying how various people were dealing with their own conditions with a school anthropology department. And yet they weren’t allowed to publish some findings because the “education” megacorp that ran the colleges blocked it.

After becoming fed up with the state of things Kiyo quit and joined a gang, getting to delve in and know more about the so-called Underworld and its inhabitants. People from all walks of life ended up around them: drifters, ex-corpos, sex workers, mercenaries, people who were all of the above and then some. Almost none of it was surprising.

And just a couple weeks ago there was an incident that changed their trajectory again, though it seemed like it was just another in a long line of similar incidents..

A group of Yakuza, emboldened in their power by even more corporate money laundering, at the behest of a giant media conglomerate attacked the headquarters of a rival channel. They overheard that performers were one the upper floors which included one of the showrunners' nieces, this pulled Kiyo in to follow the hit squad. Spread throughout the floors were average people who hadn’t done anything wrong and not all of them were going to be saved.

They met Himiko Yumeno and saved her life because of being in the right place at the right time. As though it were destiny.

She was  holed up in a locked room and caught a glimpse of a metal arm holding a steady gun and assumed it was one of the attackers, taking Kiyo down suddenly as they searched for people to help. It took a few moments of pleading to clear up the misunderstanding on their part and help her open up an emergency door for the rest of the show’s cast. It was here they were properly introduced to each other.

“I’m so sorry about that. You can never be too careful.” she said. “So if you’re not with them are you, you don’t look like building security? A cop?”

Kiyo shook their head, they weren’t sure if they could tell her what they really were just yet. Mainly because it wasn’t that much different from what the guys currently murdering a bunch of her co-workers were. “We can talk about that later. I’m not the police either, but they’re coming so we should get out before they come in and we get caught in the crossfire.”

“Fair point.”

Himiko followed behind on the way down the steps and both listened to the shots still ringing out. Some were coming from inside the building but it sounded like the police had rolled up on the front side and were now trading fire in between pleas on their radio to stop the attack.

The streets were going to be blocked off for a pretty wide area, and it had already started. So the two weaved through a back alleyway a few blocks back and found a car left unattended by one of the gang squads.

“I’ll hotwire this, get in.” Kiyo placed a hand on the door and scanned the lock requirements and transformed a finger into just the right shape of key to unlock it. She was sighing in relief, tired of running or being on edge already. Even though it couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes since the start of the raid it felt like every moment stretched on for hours.

Kiyo tapped the driver's side glass to run a check and found it to be bulletproof. They weren’t sure if the passenger’s side was equally protected, but the front pane definitely was knowing how important getaway driver’s were considered.

The car started up and Kiyo shot out of the alley fast enough to send a can of trash flying up, and swerved out onto the road. The blockade wasn’t out this far yet, there was probably a shortage of them on the force again. This even had a police scanner in it, to track them. With just a little bit of a tweak it could also send signals out. They considered for a moment if it was worth it. They didn’t think any good would come of anyone following potentially.

So instead they start using their cyborg arm to start fiddling and turn off tracking and both the dash cam on the front and any bio-scanners inside that would prove they had commandeered this vehicle. It was breaking several laws, yes, but it was saving a life. Nothing they weren’t already used to.

Another car sped up to get right behind them. It was the same kind of model, so definitely one of the attackers. Possibly saw the theft or came when it stopped giving a signal. Either way they were now being followed. And when one followed there was likely going to be more. Either by the police who may think they were involved or by crooks mad their car was taken.

They passed the gun to her. “Here, use this should it come to that.”

Traffic picked up further away from the scene they got so it was harder to weave through quick enough until they hit the freeway. Too many witnesses were made to even properly count. And the brief slow down allowed the other vehicle to graze their side, causing Kiyo to need to swerve and almost over-correct around the next corner.

Their company got even and then picked up speed to pull a little bit ahead, the back window rolled down like their passenger side. A man inside was shouting and going for a weapon on his belt, his words drowned out by the speed of air caused by the race, and he wouldn’t get to finish because Himiko fired twice, sending him backwards into his seat and out of sight.

Kiyo sped up again, hearing a cacophony of honks from civilian vehicles upset at being forced to pull to the shoulder. The enemy driver steadied and muttered a prayer before grinding against the passenger side and attempted his own shot only for the third bullet from Himiko embed itself into the arm he was aiming with, causing it to miss and puncture the ceiling of the stolen vehicle.

Himiko’s adrenaline was pumping. Someone was already dead or going to be soon at her hands. Even if it was defensive, the very thought terrified her.

And yet the driver didn’t give up. He grabbed it with his other hand and drove with the forearm of his injured side to go and ram them again. This time another car got between them as Kiyo veered to create distance and avoid rear-ending the unfortunate motorist.

“Listen, please fire again the next time you see him.” Kiyo asked.

She was shaking, and nodded. There wasn’t much to say. It was what had to be done.

The back seat was hit several times, even shattering the windows, before Himiko had a good shot a throwing knife whizzed into her and the sharp edge cut one of her hands. And her return volley hit the door of the driver, who was reloading. In just a few more seconds he would have bullets with her name on them. That knife was to buy him time.

So she used the last shot, shaking off the pain momentarily, and due to how he was hunched over the bullet entered his jaw and he crashed into the wall as he spasmed and convulsed.

Leaving only their car speeding away… for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Surprisingly, nobody else came. A trip to the outer limits of the city got them away. Kiyo parked in a back alley lot and immediately went and cracked open the trunk. As expected, there were more weapons and some medical supplies for those who were hurt on the job.

She sat down on a milk crate, wincing. “God, this hurts so bad.” She held her opposite hand around her cut to prevent herself from bleeding everywhere as Kiyo brought over the med kit. Blood from her wound was already covering her skirt and leggings.

“That was a close call, I’m glad you’re a surprisingly good shot.” Kiyo said, taking some time to clean and disinfect her first.

“Surprisingly? What’s that supposed to mean?” she huffed at the tall stranger. People were always thinking she was some pushover because she was short and looked young.

Kiyo let the blood soak some before checking how deep the wound was. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything too serious. Wrapping it in some gauze did the trick.

“I don’t mean to offend, but I’ve not seen you fire anything before. How was I supposed to know at that moment?”

“I…” Himiko sighed “I guess you’re right. Thanks by the way. You saved my life.”

“We’re… not entirely out of the clear just yet.” Kiyo said as they got up and dumped the license plate into the alley’s dumpster, quickly covering it with more trash that was littered about, they’d stolen it from the car. It was a bit old fashioned but it would be another piece of evidence that could connect the car to the scene they’d just escaped. Any conclusive proof the gang or cops could find should be destroyed.

“When will we be in the clear?” the girl asked,

She watched her new companion pouring oil from a drum onto the vehicle. And motion her to get back. She took the pack with the rest of the useful medical supplies and Kiyo removed the case of weaponry and looked it over.

“Only when we get to my place. You should probably stay a few days so the hunt dies down… maybe I could put you with a friend in the same-”

“I’m sure your friends are good and all but… I don’t know them yet, I want to stay with you if I gotta pick.”

Kiyo nodded in understanding. “Well then, we’re about.” The tall one did some mental math, checking in quickly with the chip in their head that sped that process up. “35 miles northeast of the complex I live in.”

“And your ride is on the way?”

Kiyo nodded in the affirmative “Indeed. It won’t be very much longer now in fact. It’ll be a couple more blocks up so we’re out of the way when… this goes off.” Then they flicked a match onto the end of the line of oil and rushed with her away.

The way back to the apartment was tense and paranoid. Kiyo put on the online radio to keep track of the news about the situation, switching stations occasionally if they switched coverage to something else or there was nothing new. Chatter online indicated about half the building’s occupants went down with at least injuries. The exact death toll wouldn’t be out until everything had been secured.

“Should I call and tell people I’m okay? I… don’t exactly want to show up as missing on the national news.” Himiko said, shifting nervously in her chair.

“Yes, you can tell someone you trust.” It would look bad if they let their paranoia convince them not to allow her to. Seeming like a kidnapper would just bring unwanted attention. Their associates would be mad and sister told them she didn’t exactly want to spend her time sticking around to just be spent behind bars.

One press and it went to her contact. “I’m okay, I got out. I’ll be in hiding for now. I’m with another friend.”  She had to keep it short on the low battery, unfortunately. Even with being weary of this person still, she thought better of revealing anything more.

She hung up with a farewell after a few more seconds and turned it back off, complaining to the only other who was around to listen. “Of all the days for me to leave the charger at home. Angie even reminded me not to do that.”

“Angie? That’s not a name you hear much in Japan.”

“It’s not, she’s actually from one of those islands out in the pacific. Used to be an American colony before well…”

Kiyo nodded. The United States of America had long since broken up due in part to the corporate wars and there really wasn’t any recognized entity that was still calling itself that. So all the non-mainland territories broke away. Many still are under the boot of large companies whether they were locally built or arrived from overseas since the islands were so rich in natural resources that couldn’t be found in many other places.

The conversation branched out from there, keeping both of their minds occupied with something other than the dread of having even more of those guys after them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During the apartment tour Kiyo showed Himiko around. The kitchenette, which was stocked with microwave instant noodles and burritos, featured a ton of soda and alcohol in the small fridge. All of it was cheap and/or synthetic stuff, clearly Shinguji wasn’t someone living in the lap of luxury.

Then there was the main room. It was in the center, the kitchenette was a small area to the left side. It had tile instead of carpet denoting the otherwise almost nonexistent boundary. There were very few doors: one leading outward to the balcony, one leading to the lone bedroom, and a third leading to the lone bathroom.

“Would you like to sleep out here? It’s generally pretty safe…”

“You look like you’re about to hit me with a huge ‘but’”

“Last month someone tried to break in. They were high off something and thought this was their unit. And rumor has it someone’s found ways to pick locks around here. Mine are up to date enough but you know how it is with malware.”

“Then I’ll sleep uh, in your room. If that’s okay.”

Kiyo agreed, showing her the large bed. It could easily fit both of them even though the majority of the time nobody but Kiyo was using it. There was a wardrobe and a work desk. The work desk held all of their weapons and tech. Many tools were used to keep everything working.

“And yes before you ask, I am too poor to afford all of this. A lot of it is stolen.” Kiyo explained. “Often from people who met an unfortunate fate like our attackers earlier.” Kiyo added the new goods to the collection by putting it on top of the desk.

Thankfully the blinds were always shut on this room. Kiyo had boarded it up and sealed the heat in that way because every so often in places as rundown as this you’d get a window shot out for no real reason other than some assholes felt like it.  

A few hours later they had crawled in and tried to rest. At some point somebody must have wanted more warmth because upon waking up the next morning Kiyo noticed they were now huddling together, arms around the other. It would be a delicate thing to get out of the embrace without waking her up too.

They hesitated. They didn’t have any urgent jobs at this hour, all of those were planned specifically to be later. So was it really wrong to stay put and just see how she’s doing? It was a rough day yesterday after all.

Even with the window boarded up small cracks of light fluttered through. A small reminder the outside still had beauty in it.

Himiko woke up moments later, finding herself curled up to Kiyo and realizing she’d been the one to start being so close. An impulsive thought she wasn’t awake enough to second guess herself. It was odd, how they seemed to be more awake but didn’t leave her.

They sat up and said “Good morning. Sleep well?”

She followed suit and rubbed the gunk out of her eyes. “Yeah. I… hope waking up like that didn’t bother you. I-”

“It doesn’t”

She was ready to profusely apologize so hearing that took a moment to process. “Huh?”

“It was quite nice. It’s been a while since I’ve felt anything as warm as that.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Should I be?”

“Well… no, and I kinda liked it too.” she said shyly, turning to sit down on the edge of the bed, putting some distance between them. “You doing anything today?”

Kiyo consulted their chip again. “No work today, we’ll be hanging out with some people from my crew this afternoon.”

“I look forward to it. I needed a bit of a vacation its just…” she sighed.

“How it happened wasn’t desirable?”

Himiko laughed. “That’s an understatement. It actually sucks so much.” crying broke through and took over. It took almost half a day for what happened to even really sink in. “Everything sucks so fucking much.”

Kiyo offered some tissue from the bedside drawer and Himiko took it, thanking them.

[aloha-cowgirl]

The Color of Free Will

This was written for the SPN Stay-at-Home Challenge. @bend-me-shape-me @helianthus21 @pray4jensen   

Monday 1: Feather (Read it on AO3) 

[1915 words - Hurt/Comfort, Wingfic, First Kiss]

From the library, Dean heard the slam of the heavy bunker door. It was late in the evening and he hadn’t been expecting anyone, however, the groan and crashing stumble made him hurry from his chair.

When he crossed into the war room, he froze. At the top of the staircase, was a crumpled creature. Black feathers stood at odd angles as the creature’s wings curled around its body. Dean reached for the gun he kept tucked beneath the map table as he cautiously approached the stairs.

But when he reached the bottom step, he shoved the gun back into his waistband before running up the stairs two at a time.

“Cas!”

The angel’s wings shifted. Beneath them, Cas lay unconscious on the floor, battered and bruised. Dean wasn’t sure what to do; Sam had taken Jack on a simple salt and burn case in St. Louis for some field experience, so Dean was on his own.

He wasn’t sure how to approach the delicate black wings, so he was forced to wrap one arm under his back and the other beneath his knees in a bridal carry.

“Man, you’re heavy,” Dean grunted as he carefully took the steps one-by-one.

When he reached the bottom, he hauled Cas into a chair, wings drooping out to either side. It didn’t look very comfortable, Dean thought, but there were more important things to focus on right now. He bent over him, cupping his face with one hand and patting the opposite cheek with the other hand.

“C’mon, Cas... C’mon, dammit,” he pleaded under his breath, “wake up. Wake up.”

Cas groaned and Dean let go of a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He kneeled on the floor so Cas wouldn’t have to lift his head.

“Jesus, Cas! Hey, wake up, buddy. What the hell happened to you?”

He could see Cas’s eyes struggling to open and mentally cheered when he finally saw impossibly blue eyes gazing down at him.

“Angels,” Cas croaked. “I—they—I don’t—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Dean shook his head consolingly. “We’ll figure it out later. We gotta get you put back together, though. Think you can make it to a bed?”

Cas nodded.

Dean pulled one of Cas’s arms around his neck and tucked his own arm around his back and beneath his wings.

“Does—does that hurt? I mean, is this okay?” Dean asked as he positioned himself to support Cas’s weight.

“It’s fine,” Cas answered weakly.

Dean’s room was the closest with a clean bed, so they traipsed through the library and down the hall. Cas leaned heavily on Dean’s side, but at least he was awake now. When he was safely perched on the edge of the bed, Dean took the opportunity to grab a med kit and a few towels.

He rolled his desk chair in front of Cas, bracketing his legs between his own knees as he laid the open kit on the bed. Cas stared somberly at the floor.

“So… I have a few questions, obviously,” Dean said, trying to lighten the mood as he dabbed at a cut over Cas’s eyebrow. “First off, where were you?”

Cas sighed. “I was in Heaven. I was trying to come back home, but there were three angels and...”

He trailed off, so Dean worked quietly, anger building as he butterfly-stitched the cut and let Cas work out the details in his head.

“They attacked you?” Dean finally asked, a sharp edge to his voice.

Cas shook his head and looked up from the floor, locking eyes with Dean. “I attacked them.”

Dean took a deep breath, letting his hands slide from Cas’s face to his neck, checking for injuries. Cas let his eyes close.

“Is that why you couldn’t, y’know,” he gestured at the bruised and bloody mess, “mojo yourself back together?”

“I suppose,” he answered, flexing his wings out behind himself. The glimmer of deep purples and greens as the black feathers moved caught Dean’s attention.

“And, uh… the wings?” he asked.

“The wings,” Cas sighed again.

He stretched them and the tips of the longest feathers brushed the wall behind him. This time, however, among the iridescent black feathers, Dean spotted dark red.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, automatically moving from the chair to the edge of the bed beside him. He reached for the wing but stopped halfway, realizing what he was about to do.

Dean reminded himself that these were wings. Not like the tie or the trench coat that Dean had come to know as an extension of Cas. No, these wings—these gorgeous wings—were an actual part of him.

“Can I…?”

The air in the room seemed to thicken. He’d figured that touching an angel’s wings, usually unseen and untouched in the ethereal plane for all of eternity, was probably a pretty intimate thing. From Cas’s reaction he thought he may have been right.

Cas nodded, a slightly anxious look on his face. “Um. Yes, you can—you can touch me.”

When his wings appeared in this plane of existence, they seemed to have burst through his clothing, leaving it shredded on his back. Dean helped him shrug off his ruined coat, using the knife he had tucked in his boot to cut the fabric until they could pull it off over each wing. They repeated the process with his jacket and shirt.

“You wear too many layers,” Dean groused, earning himself a quiet chuckle from Cas.

When the shredded clothes had been tossed aside and Cas was left bare-chested, wings spread out behind them, now unencumbered, Dean’s breath caught at the sight. 

He grabbed a pillow and tossed it toward the foot of the bed as Cas positioned himself, laying on his front, wrapping his arms around the pillow. Dean approached slowly, then carefully reached out. As soon as his fingertips touched the soft feathers, Cas flinched. Dean pulled back.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I won’t—”

Cas shook his head, looking up at Dean. “No, it’s—it’s okay. It’s just… no one has ever touched them before.” His cheeks flushed.

Dean nodded and reached out again. This time the flinch was much more subdued, followed by a slow exhale. Dean absently stroked the smooth feathers as he looked for injuries. Cas let his head fall forward onto his arms, eyes closed.

Dean traced the edge of the right wing. It was mesmerizing. When he finally came across the blood again, he carefully moved the undamaged feathers aside to assess the damage.

“Looks like a puncture,” Dean said.

Cas hummed in agreement. “Angel blade.”

“Attacking a bunch of angels on your own probably wasn’t your best move,” Dean grumbled as he tore open a package of alcohol wipes.

Cas turned around to face him, eyes bright under a furrowed brow. “You don’t understand.”

“Well, enlighten me, Cas,” Dean challenged, staring back. “Why would you—”

“They didn’t want me to come back,” Cas barked, cutting Dean off. “They think I’m interfering in God’s grand plan. They were trying to keep me in heaven. Keep me away from—from you.”

Dean was rendered mute.

“I think that’s why they fixed my wings,” Cas continued, his voice faltering as he turned back toward the pillow. “They fixed my wings in hopes I’d stay. But when I refused, something… happened. I can’t hide them. I can’t heal myself. I—I don’t know what to do now.”

He held his face in his hands, leaning on his elbows. His wings resumed their relaxed position so Dean could reach the inky black feathers again.

Dean stroked them gently, smoothing where they’d become ruffled.

“We’re gonna make it work,” Dean promised, carefully cleaning the wound that had thankfully stopped bleeding. He tossed the alcohol wipe aside and returned to combing his fingers soothingly through the feathers. Cas let his head fall forward again, breathing deeply.

“I, uh—I’m just glad you decided to come back.”

Cas’s wings lifted and fell as he blew out a deep breath.

Dean admired the way the feathers changed color as they moved in the light. “So, black wings, huh? I thought all you angels had those fluffy white wings with matching halos.”

“They weren’t always black,” Cas said reminiscently. “As a loyal soldier of God, they were white. They began to gray when I first defied orders. It was the first sign that I was ‘broken,’ as they called it. And, well, now—”

“They’re perfect,” interjected Dean.

Dean could feel the tension releasing as he ran his fingers through the feathers. Cas’s head dropped back down onto the pillow with a sinful groan. The corner of Dean’s mouth flickered up into a smirk as he lightly scratched at the wing beneath his fingers.

“That feel good?” he asked.

“Very much so,” Cas said into the pillow.

He repositioned himself, straddling over Cas’s hips, holding himself up on his knees. Like this, he could reach both wings at once and there was no one here to judge him anyway. Dean noticed some of the bruises on Cas’s back and shoulders were already beginning to improve in color. Whatever the angels had done that had zapped all Cas’s grace was wearing off, he thought.

He started at the center of Cas’s back, running his hands gently over the base of the wings. Cas arched into the touch and Dean felt a rush of adrenaline. He traced his fingers along the bony edges, sliding them down into the small, soft feathers underneath, careful to avoid his wounds.

Cas shivered beneath him. Dean would be lying if he said this whole scene hadn’t spiraled into something completely different than what he had told himself it was—that he was just soothing an injured friend. But the energy in the room had evolved. There was static in the air now. Cas had taken on Heaven and the angels to be here with him—to stay here, maybe permanently.

He let himself slowly slide lower on Cas’s back, now half sitting, half kneeling over him. He stretched his arms wide, leaning forward to reach as far as his fingers could. He was nearly laying on top of Cas now, close enough to feel the pull of his gravity. Cas tilted his head back. Dean responded by angling his own head forward to feel the warmth of Cas’s scalp against his forehead. They stayed that way for a minute before Dean spoke in a low tone.

“Cas… why? Why come back?”

His strength clearly returning, Cas turned, nearly dumping Dean right off his back. They were now sitting on the bed facing one another. Cas’s bruises had definitely healed more, though Dean’s attention was locked on the blue eyes boring into his own.

“Dean,” he said in a near-whisper, “you know why.”

Dean swallowed, his eyes burning with the potential magnitude of the moment.

“Is it worth it?” he asked, wringing his hands.

Cas reached forward, taking Dean’s hands in his own.

“Yes.”

Dean wasn’t sure who moved first, but they met somewhere in the space between them. Their bodies crashed into one another, lips against lips, arms wrapping around one another. There was a flicker of lights, and then they were lost in the darkness, enveloped in glossy black feathers, surrounded by the color of Castiel’s free will. In this world where Heaven and Hell were out to tear them apart, here in the void of Castiel’s wings, it was only them.

And it felt like home.

@rauko-is-a-free-elf @petrichoravellichor @crack--attack @katekarnage7 @ladygotsoul @all-or-nothing-baby @moderatelypanickedbiromantic @dammitsammy

[darknessisafriend]

Hi could you write something like if the reader was alone while walking home to Joker at night in Gotham and some men attacked her leaving her on the road hurt and all bloody,and when she comes home Joker didn't expect to see her like that and takes care of her but also will find the assholes who hurted her "kitten" and beats the shit out of them? Sorry this is caos and my English is not that good,thank you if you'll do it!!

You made this request some time ago but I never forgot and I finally wrote I hope you’ll like it :)

You’re fucked

You were tired and annoyed, your day at work got longer than expected and you had to work on extra material because someone else didn´t do their job. To make things worse you lived 1 hour away from work, you moved in with Joker and it was easier for him to do what he does from the suburbs. The subway was fine, a lot of people were taking this line to go back home, it made you feel safe. Cities and especially Gotham were dangerous places for women, even more if you’re alone outside after 8 in the evening. Now what worried you the most was this 10 minutes’ walk from the subway to your flat; the neighborhood was a bit crappy and you had refused to have an escort and Joker had offered, this would only draw attention to your lover. Law and order weren´t common in this part of the city; and unfortunately very few people knew who you were with. You stopped counting how many times you had to stand your ground and fight because of some guys calling you or trying to rob you, but you had taken street fight classes you could handle the situation most of the time.

You exited the subway stop, it was getting quite freezing, and after all it was December. You tighten your coat around your body and walked to your flat; the way was pretty simple, you kept walking. A couple of shops were still open, one even had Christmas decorations, and it was nice.

“Hi…” lost in your thoughts you startled at hearing someone calling you. You quickly glanced in their direction; there were 3 guys against the wall of a building. ‘And here we go’ you thought resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

You decided to continue walking; hopefully they will leave it at that.

“Hey Miss! C’mon don’t be afraid, we just wanna have little talk, we don´t bite, cm´here!” another insisted. You continued to walk pretending not to hear them, your heartbeat slightly increasing. You heard footsteps behind you ‘I´m really not in the mood to fight’ you started to increase your pace. Until you felt your arm being yanked back.

“Don’t you fuckin’ ignore me!” badgered the man holding your arm.

“Yeah you´re not very polite…” chided the third one. You tried to snatch your arm out of his grip.

“Just let me go before I make you regret it.” You threatened but they laughed.

“What you think we´re scared of a small girl like you!?”

“Exactly you fuck…” a heavy slap across your cheek cut you off, you can feel your cheek burning, the shock makes your eyes wet. You clenched your jaw, you won´t let them get off so easily. Taking him by surprise you throw a punch right in his nose, making him groan in pain. But the 2 other men joined him gripping you by your coat, shoulders, pushing towards a dark alley.

“You´re gonna regret this!” you raged at them from the top of your lungs, you received another hit, this time a fist met your jaw, sending you to the ground,

You smirked, chuckling as blood came out of your mouth.

“What´s so funny bitch!?”

“You don´t know who you´re dealing with…when he´ll see how you´ve damaged his kitten…you´re fucked…” they were taken aback by your statement, still they didn´t flee probably not believing you. You tried to crawl away from them, you couldn’t handle a fight against 3 but they were fast, gripping your hair tightly.

“We’re gonna teach you your place!” one of them growled, kicking you in your belly, you curved into a ball trying to protect yourself, and they continued to punch you over and over again you weren´t sure how much time you could handle this.

“The cops are coming! Let´s get the fuck outta here!”  One of them urged, they ran away leaving you bleeding and in pain, you gritted your teeth, you needed to get away, the cops could discover who you are or more like who you are with. So, limping, you walked away as fast as possible, thankfully they didn´t seem to notice you.

With the back of your hand you angrily wiped off the blood coming out of your open lip.

“Shit!” you cursed, Joker was going to notice and he´s going to be pissed, you who wanted a quiet and relaxing evening.

You continued to walk, your head was pounding, painful, and you had blood on your brand new coat. You sighed; a shitty night was an understatement. You didn’t want to Joker to find out even though they deserved to suffer for what they did to you, you just felt exhausted, like any ounce of energy you had, had left your body, you just wanted to lie down on the sofa.

As you entered the building Joker´s henchmen looked at you, some whispering about your state; some even started leaving as if they knew how he was going to react. When you entered the elevator you rolled your shoulder, your back muscles starting to ache, you look at yourself in the mirror and you winced at the view of your face, the punch you had received on your cheek was starting to bruise purple, you had dried blood smeared on your chin. It was a bit hard for you to breath; maybe you had a broken rib.  

You nodded at the two guards in front of the door of the apartment, and you turned the knob as quietly as you could, sometimes he was too busy to talk to you right away, you quietly took off your shoes and tip toed towards the bedroom.

“Where do you think you’re going…” you jumped at his voice behind you. You took a deep breath ‘he´s going to be so pissed´ you told yourself as you pivoted to face your lover. The smile he had instantly disappeared when he saw your face, his eyes grew darker, deadly. You didn´t moved waiting for his next move.

“Who did this to you kitten?” he asked in a very calm voice which you knew was even more dangerous, you lowered your eyes trying to find an excuse or something to prevent him from going on a manhunt.

“I don´t know…” you started but he grabbed you by the coat, pulling you closer to him, you winced at the pain coming from your ribs. Softly he brushed his fingers on your face, assessing the damages, the contrast between his tenderness with you and the hatred in his eyes was terrifying.

“Don´t make me ask a second a time.” He grumbled, his voice shaking with anger.

“It was three guys around the main street right after the shop with the Christmas decorations, they fled to the north when the cops arrived, one of the guys had some sort of ring on his middle finger, that´s all I remember…” He clicked his tongue frustrated not to have more details.

His hands still cupping your face he turned his head to the living room, and made a sign with his head, you realized it was because some of his men were there, probably for some meeting and now he was ordering them to find those who hurt you.

“Bring them to me.” He ordered, you knew this wasn´t going to be pretty, they were going to suffer. The men left, leaving you alone with your lover; he brought you to the bathroom, making you sit on the edge of the bathtub. He took some medical supply you had actually bought for him one day. He started with your face, delicately using a compress to clean the blood away, he was being very attentive. Then he gently lifted your shirt, he had seen you wincing, he checked your side, his past experience gave him a good knowledge of this kind of injury, your side was turning purple, he softy touched your ribs, the contact of his cold fingers making you jump.

“Shhhh stay still kitten.” He directed “Nothing broken.” His eyes inspected the rest of your body and landed on your right hand, small purple bruises were appearing on your knuckles.

“You fought back didn´t you?” he smirked as if he was proud of your temper.

“Wasn´t gonna let them do whatever they wanted to do to me…” he hummed in response going to the kitchen to retrieve some ice for your hand, he came back and put it on your knuckles and slightly bandaged it to hold it on your hand for a bit.

“Thank you…” you started, lowering your eyes. He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind you ear.

“You need to rest now, go to bed” he ordered you, helping you to stand up.

“But…”

“Don´t discuss my orders kitten, not tonight.” He grumbled almost threatening, you sighed, there was no point in trying to argue with him, he had taken his decision.

He helped you change clothes and get you to bed, as he pulled the covers up to your chin; he caressed your cheek, anger still present in his eyes.

“Rest now, I´ll be back soon.” He said softly as he left the bedroom, you suddenly realized how exhausted you were, your eyelids feeling heavy, you fell asleep within a few minutes.

 A few hours later

 You started to wake up, feeling someone stroking and kissing your hand, you opened your eyes to see your lover, you smiled at this vision.

“It´s time kitten…”

“Time for what?” you asked sleepily a bit confused. A big grin formed on his face and he openly laughed.

“I got them! Come!” he answered excited, you realized he was talking about your attackers, you got up following him, your ribs still hurting. As you arrived in the living room, he gesture with his arms to three men, hands tied behind their back, one of them lying dead on the floor “sorry I couldn´t restrain myself…” commented happily Joker. The two others were already quite beaten up. You instantly recognized them, and hatred rose in your chest.

Joker circled around you and stopped behind you, his mouth coming closer to your ear.

“Do you want me to hurt them?” he asked, you simply had to say the word and he will satisfy your every desire.

“I want them to suffer” he chuckled and took a sharp knife in his hands.

What followed is a session of violence that you had rarely seen from him, but you enjoyed it, releasing a smile when they pleaded mercy. They will not get it; they had no mercy for you.

Joker was panting now, he had taken all his rage out, and he turned to look at you, waiting for your instructions on what to do next, you were satisfied with what he did to them, now you just wanted to get rid of them.

“Give me your gun.” You asked him, extending your hand. He chuckled, happy with your reaction as he took out his gun and handed it to you. You slowly approached one of the men and put the gun on his forehead, you fired, the loud bang of the shot followed by the sound of his body falling on the floor. You went to the next one, he had his head lowered, and he was panting.

“Look at me asshole.” You ordered him, fearfully he lifted his head and the second his eyes met yours, you pulled the trigger.

You had to admit you felt good after this; they got what they deserved and that thanks to Joker. He was laughing, happy with how it turned out, you smirked at him another feeling rising in your chest. And your lover felt it; you jumped in his arms your lips crashing on his mouth, ignoring the pain from your open lip, he grabbed you by your hips, kissing you deeply, his desire for you quickly rising.

“Leave and expose their corpses as a warning, anyone who touches my girl will have the same fate.” he ordered to his men, his lips brushing against yours.  

As they were leaving you lead him to the bedroom, your body wasn´t ready to handle some wild session just yet. You pushed Joker on the bed, taking off your top, exposing your breast to your lover, who growled with desire.  

“Such a good girl…” he purred smiling as sat on top of him.

You leaned in, kissing his lips; his hand on your hips, he trailed kisses down your neck making you moan, then his lips went to your nipples nibbling them as his hands went in your pants, caressing your butt.

Biting your lower lip you buried your fingers in his green locks, then he shifted to put you underneath him, he kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours. You could already feel him hard against your leg. Your other hand traveled to his collarbone under his shirt, his skin was burning hot.  He let you slide off his jacket, letting it fall on the floor, then he started to unbutton his shirt, you watched him reveal his torso, you loved it, you wanted to kiss every inch of it…

“You´re so beautiful…” he growled, his eyes were now dark with desire. Your heart skipped a beat at his words. One of his hands travelled down you’re your belly to enter your panties, you moaned at the contact, you felt him smile against your lips.

“You look pretty good yourself…” You purred between your moans; he didn’t need to hear more and crashed his lips against yours one more time, slightly making your open lip bleed.

His work between your legs is becoming more intense, you’re panting, you want to feel him inside of you, you let out a needy moan.

He chuckles against your jaw “you like that kitten?” he teases softly biting your sensitive skin, you chuckled enjoying the moment so much. As one hand was grabbing his hair, the other slide down his lower belly, then beneath his pants and underwear, you stroke his cock, gently, slowly at first making him longingly moan.

“Fuck…feelin’ playfull huh?” he swooned against your lips. He was being so sensitive to your care that it made it difficult for him to do anything, even kiss you, your smirked at this.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore and unzipped his pants to let his erection out. You felt his cock at your wet entrance. Slowly he entered you, you released a shaky breath when you felt him inside of you. His thrusts quickly became more forceful, his forehead against your collarbone. You gripped his shoulders bringing him closer to you, feeling his torso brushing against your breast. His thrusts became deeper and quicker making your eyes roll back. You felt yourself coming closer and closer and Joker was too, his groan becoming louder and louder. You cried at out as you came, an electrifying pleasure spreading across your body, he quickly followed you in a long moan.

He was out of breath, his whole body shaking, you kissed him one more time as he slowly turned to lie down on his back, gently putting you on his torso, he reached for a cigarette on the night stand, lighting it, he exhaled the smoke as he laid back his  head on the pillow, the arm around your shoulders, distractingly caressing your skin.

“Exactly how I wanted the night to go…minus the beating of course” you laughed with him, planting soft kisses in his torso. Being with the king of Gotham had some nice privileges.

Tag list: @help-i-am-obssessed @the-ineffable-dreamer @skaravile @arthurfleckjoker2019 @cigznvalentines

[nico-idc]

This post is basically going to be me writing out a thought I've had recently, which then turned into a vent post. In case you didnt see the tags, I'll be mentioning self harm, covid 19, quarentine, and eating disorders, including my personal experience with all four. This post gets really dark, but gets a bit more optimistic towards the end (theres also a metaphor that compares mental health to a cliff or something like that). This post also goes into detail about what it's like going through this. If this bothers you, feel free to skip this post. If you have the same feelings I describe in this post, please seek help.

Of course, spreading awareness and educating people about things like self harm, and eating disorders is great. But, theres one major problem with spreading awareness about these problems. It shows people that it's a thing. Now, that may seem like a good thing. People should know that it's an issue, something that happens and could happen to someone they care about.

But it's not so great when a depressed 11 year old who has no idea how to cope with his depression comes across people talking about people cutting themselves. Now, all these posts mention that it's not a good thing to do. And that you should seek help if you have the urge to do this. And the 11 year old understands that, so he doesn't even think to try it.

But then, when that boy isnt doing as well as he was when he found those posts, the thought comes up again. He remembers that cutting himself is a thing people do, and they say it relives the emotional pain and the numbness for at least a little bit. So the boy gets up and grabs a pair of scissors, and drags it across his wrist. He does it once or twice more, before he stops. Because only a little but worth hurt, as long as he doesn't take it too far, right?

So now the boy is in a bit of a better place, he wouldnt have picked up those scissors for the first time in this state. But, now that hes done it before, he wants to do it again. He wants that brief escape that the blade of that pair of scissors gives him. So he does it again.

Skip to a few days later when the boy's doing the dishes. Theres a few sharp knives in the mix. The boy wouldn't have had any problem with this normally, hes been washing these knives for a year or two now. But, now that hes felt a blade go across his skin, he wonders what it would be like to use something sharper than a pair of scissors. What would it feel like to use a kitchen knife? So the boy tries to come up with a way to sneak a kitchen knife back to his room. Thankfully, the boy gets too scared to act on his plans, so he just sticks to the scissors.

But the boy began to like feeling the pain of those cuts. So when he would wash dishes, the boy would make sure to fully submerge his wrist in the hot water, which was as hot as the sink could get the water. Just to feel the sting.

Skip to a few months later. The boy gets an old hunting knife that belonged to his grandma. His parents didnt know of the cuts, and the boy was very responsible, so they didnt see a problem giving him a knife, as long as he promised to only use it with adult supervision. The boy agreed, but soon broke his promise.

Remember a few months ago, when the boy wanted to steal a kitchen knife to see watch it would feel like to use a knife instead of a pair of scissors. Well, the boy still had these thoughts. The only difference from a few months ago and now, is that the boy now has easy access to a knife.

So, the boy opens the knife, and puts the blade to his skin, and slices. This is the first time the boy managed to make his wrist bleed. The knife hurts a lot more than the scissors, so the boy does this a few more times, before he stops, and goes to the bathroom to clean off any dried blood. The boy doesn't use the knife often, only when things get really bad. He uses the scissors most often.

A few months later, the boy tells his parents that he thinks he has depression. His parents are supportive, and the boys dad isnt surprised. His parents suggest he starts going to therapy. The boy agrees, knowing that its not healthy to be feeling the way he is, and he wants to feel better.

So the boy goes to therapy, and the first appointment is just his therapist getting to know the boy, and his parents and brother are in the room for this appointment. The therapist asks the boy and his parents questions, and the boy answers honestly. Well, mostly honestly.

When the therapist asks the boy if he has ever harmed himself, the boy says no. The therapist accepts his answer, and moves on. At the end of the appointment, the therapist asks if there anything else the boy or his parents want to add. The boy, knowing that he has to tell his therapist about his cuts, says there is one thing, but he needs his brother to leave the room when he says it.

The boy is protective of his little brother, and doesn't want to be how his little brother finds out about self harm. He doesn't want to be the one who plants the idea in his brothers head that that's a thing. So the boy insists that his brother leaves the room.

Once the boys brother is in the hall, the boy rolls up his sweatshirt sleeve and says "I lied about not harming myself" and showed his mom, dad, and therapist the lines on his wrist. The boys mother is almost crying, and that makes the boy feel like it was a mistake to say anything. But theres no turning back now.

Nothing changes at home. The boys parents didnt take the knife away from him. They never checked on him when he locked himself in his room for hours at a time. The boys dad even gave him a multipurpose tool with two knives in it for Christmas that year.

Luckily, the boy quickly got out of his depression with the therapy and being able to see his friends again. But even now, two years later, when the boy is in a bad place, and looks back at how his parents didnt change anything for him when he was self harming, and he wonders if they really cared that he was dragging scissors across his wrists once a week.

Skip to two years later, and the boy is sitting in health class. The boy had always been insecure about his weight, so when the teacher said that they would be learning about eating disorders, the boy fell into a similar hole to the one he was in 2 years ago.

Now, they boy has heard of anorexia and bulimia before. But now hes learning all about it. Now hes learning how quickly people loose a few pounds, just by skipping a few meals.

Now, the boy sees an option to loose the weight that hes had all is life, that he can't seem to drop. So, the boy begins to wonder if he could get away with just not eating.

Thankfully, the boys mother is up when the boy leaves for school, and always makes sure the boy eats a good breakfast. So hell get at least one meal a day. And his friends arent going to let him skip lunch. So that's 2 meals a day. And then, his mother always makes dinner, and the boy has no choice but to eat it. It would be easier to convince his friends that he didnt need lunch for a month than to get away with skipping dinner.

So the boy couldn't starve himself. So he thought about just throwing up afterwords. But he quickly realised that wouldnt work either. He wouldnt have time in the morning to get ready for school, eat, throw it up, and then hide it from his mom. So he couldn't throw up breakfast. Then at lunch it wouldnt work because his friends would notice if he was always running to the bathroom after lunch. And then at dinner, his mom would hear him.

Once he realised that he couldn't starve himself, and he couldn't throw his food up, he gave up on the idea all together pretty quickly. And he got better. He got out of the dark place he was in and was doing good, if not great, for a few months.

But then Covid 19 hit. The thin ground that the boy had just managed to get himself up on a few months before, started crumbling. Suddenly, his friends weren't there to calm him down when he had a random breakdown. Suddenly, his friends weren't there to stop him from skipping lunch. Suddenly, his mom wasn't making him breakfast anymore. Or dinner really. Suddenly, the boy lost his appetite Suddenly, the boy lost all the things that kept him from getting an eating disorder.

Luckily, the boy had a few ledges that he could grasp onto to keep himself from falling into a deep, dark pit. He and his friends video called a lot. He was able to meet up with his boyfriend a bit. He began listening to MCR, and P!ATD, which gave him songs that he could scream to when he wanted to cry. He started watching more youtube, and he found some youtubers that he really liked, that made him smile and laugh when he felt like crying. He found youtubers that were a part of the LGBT+ community. He found youtubers that had anxiety. He found youtubers that had depression. He found fandoms that accepted anyone and everyone.

Thanks to these ledges, the boy was able to keep himself out of the deep dark pit he had fallen into when he was 11. Thanks to these ledges, the boy valued his own health, and made sure to eat at reasonable times. He made sure to get enough sleep. He made sure that he kept himself from falling into the pit. He tried to keep finding ledges, and he did. He slowly kept finding more. Hes still holding on to these ledges, but it's getting easier. He no longer has to cling to each ledge, he can sit and relax for a minute. He can keep going up. Every now and then a ledge crumbles a bit beneath his feet, but he has more that he can catch himself on.

[robins-whump]

Possible gore tw

“Shh,” the doctor whispered. He pressed a finger over Nate’s mouth, over the wrinkled expanse of duct tape that wound ‘round and ‘round his head to create a crushing silver band. The gentleness of the doctor’s hands did nothing to slow his rapidly beating heart.

“No tears,” he said. “Tears aren’t pretty. Happy people don’t make tears, do they?” When Nate squeezed his eyes shut, the doctor gripped his jaw tight. “Do they?” Nate whimpered and shook his head, a small, jerky movement that pulled at the duct tape. A muffled whine crawled up his throat.

The doctor’s mouth spread open in a small, satisfied grin. Nate could just see the glint of silver and gold teeth behind his scabbed purple lips.

“So pretty,” the doctor murmured. “Don’t make a sound, now. You’ll ruin the picture.”

The doctor’s hands roamed over him, admiring the way Nate trembled, the tension holding his muscles taut. Nate stank of fear, of dirt and blood and the pervasive mildew of his prison that had seeped into his skin. The doctor wiped away a stray tear and Nate flinched, pretending he couldn’t feel the way the doctor almost vibrated with excitement at his abject terror.

Then something sharp dug into his side. He didn’t need to look down to feel the pearls of blood welling up where the blade pressed into him, the beads breaking and running down his skin like condensation down a windowpane on a cold day. He was sure that was how the doctor would have described it.

He felt a scream building up, threatening to burst from his chest and then the doctor’s finger was back, pressing over the duct tape. Stilling his words in the same way that a single comment could make him wish he could swallow his stupid, foolish thoughts back inside himself where they would never reach air again. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He accepted the implicit command the same way he’d reluctantly accepted everything the doctor had told him.

Another smile. Nate swallowed bile. Hold it down. You’ll choke, you’ll ruin it.

“Don’t move,” the doctor said. He slid a hand over Nate’s side, finger’s dragging through the blood, smearing it over his skin. He stilled for a moment, contemplating, then dug into the wound.

Nate flinched and arched away. Pain exploded, nerves alight. The doctor’s gaze hardened. I told you not to move!”He dug his fingers deeper. “You have to do what I say,” he ordered. His mouth twisted like something hilarious had suddenly come to him. “You have to do what I saw, because no one will believe you anyway.” The familiar words felt like death coming from the doctor’s lips. Nate shuddered.

The knife glinted again in the bright light of the lamp, almost exactly the same colour as many of the doctor’s teeth. Nate’s whole body tingled and stood on end, screaming at him to get away, get anywhere, anywhere the blade couldn’t touch him. Be a good boy now. He jerked his head to shake off the thought.

The knife pressed in again, this time to the centre of his chest. The doctor cut a thin line down to his navel, ever so slowly, ever so carefully. The doctor frowned in concentration. Nate strained against the ropes binding him. His hands and feet were purple from the zip-ties, and his nails had turned dull and grey. The sharp pains had long ago faded into a dull ache, then simple, awful numbness.

“Shh, shh, shh,” the doctor repeated, soft voice poisoning the air. “Be still. Everything must be perfect.”

He trailed the blade over Nate’s chest, and down his thigh, barely leaving a mark, before suddenly stabbing him on the outside of his calf. Nate screamed behind the gag.

The doctor grinned, twisting the knife and turning the clean wound into a mess of torn skin and ragged edges. Blood seeped out of the wound around the knife, thankfully lacking the pulses that would betray a punctured artery. If the doctor wanted to kill him, it would be deliberate, Nate knew. What was the beauty in having your pet project bleed out without your permission? he thought bitterly.

“I think we’ll leave that right there,” the doctor said, producing another, similar knife from inside his jacket. Through a haze of pain Nate caught sight of the inside of the jacket, lining full of slender blades and other instruments of torture. His screams reached a new pitch.

Another blade slid smoothly into the skin of his upper thigh on the other leg, a piercing pain that shot right through his body. Nate’s eyes rolled back in his head and he jerked, unconscious. The doctor promptly stopped and slapped him hard across the face. It took several seconds for Nate’s eyes to flicker open.

“Ah, ah a-ah,” the doctor said. “No missing the show. What’s point of all the theatrics if I don’t even get an audience. He brought out yet another blade and used it to carve a line down the bottom of Nate’s ribs, outlining them in horrific red blood. Nate convulsed and shook, but the doctor simply straddled his hips and held him down with one arm. It wasn’t a particularly difficult feat when Nate was losing more blood by the second.

“I wish I’d become a surgeon,” the doctor said, returning to the unfinished line and ending it with a flourish. “So many ways to cut you up and I could have learnt them all.” He frowned for a second. “But then I never would have met you!” At this, he dropped the knife and ran his hands back over the wounds again as if to follow each mark.

“So pretty,” the doctor said. He traced the patterned wounds reverently, admiring the pearlescent glow of Nate’s skin, the sheen of sweat catching in the light, the stunning contrast of the smeared blood and its marred canvas.

“I knew you were worth it,” he murmured. “So delicate, so gentle. So easy to train. You didn’t even know I was doing it.” A shrill giggle pierced the air. “Nothing like some of the others. They were so angry, didn’t want to listen to me! I taught all them better in the end. As if to support his point, he slid a hand over Nate’s throat and pressed down idly. “So weak,” he murmured. “At least you tried to fight me. Of course, you’re no match for me. None of you are.”

Nate could barely concentrate enough to make out the doctor’s face through the excruciating pain that enveloped him, but the doctor’s words pierced him deeper than any knife.

Above him, the doctor was still talking. “Oh! I’ll need a memento to remind me of all the times we had together. You don’t mind, do you?”

Nate didn’t dare protest, but his mind raced with possibilities. Would the doctor take his hair? His nails? His teeth? All possibilities faded as the doctor raised the worst instrument so far. Dread coiled in his gut. Anything, anything but that.

The doctor, seeing his distress, grinned even wider. The wide lens filled his whole vision, an empty insect eye staring into him. Nate squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Say cheese,” said the doctor. A clicking sound broke the silence and white light lit up his eyelids.

[beautifulandbleeding]

Valery Gets A Haircut

One Day After Escape | >> 

For a long time Valery stayed in the bath. He was too tall to stretch comfortably, and the hard porcelain pressed against his bruises, but the hot water that poured over him felt good. It felt warm and good, which he’d thought he would never be again.

Yesterday Valery was still chained in the dark, in that cold, damp room. It felt like it happened a long time ago, or to someone else. People who were kept chained up in the dark for as long as he had been and hurt in the way that he had been hurt—in ways and places that he’d never even considered—didn’t take baths. People like that didn’t feel good, or clean.

Every bruise and infected wound from where the chains had rubbed his wrists raw felt like something that had always been there, even though Valery knew point-blank that wasn’t true. There was something before all of this happened to him. It was just so impossible to believe.

He pushed himself up and leaned against the back of the tub, running a hand through his hair. Valery grimaced. It was still heavy and knotted, dirty and grimy. Something that he’d pulled out from the drain attached to his head. Longer than he’d ever worn it during this elusive before. How had he slept on a clean bed the night before when he’d been so filthy? If he’d arrived at the hotel alone and had to speak to the receptionist… well, it wasn’t too hard to imagine the look she’d give him as she apologised and said that there were no rooms available. But Valery hadn’t had to worry about getting a room; he’d been allowed to just wait outside, in the fresh air, while someone else did all the talking. And when he saw the room he’d just wanted to sleep. As he’d collapsed onto the bed and finally took his weight off of his burning feet, it briefly occurred to Valery how nice it was to be lying down on a bed, but that was about the extent that Valery had cared at all about anything that had happened. Everything else felt unimportant. He’d escaped.

He wasn’t safe, he knew that, and by now Earnshaw and his goons would be looking. That didn’t matter, either.

Let them find us. They won’t take me alive.

The thought was unwanted. Valery was glad that he was alive. Not once during the time that they’d had him had he wanted to die—not seriously. All the times that he’d begged to live proved that.

Valery looked down at the water cascading off of him. It was dark and dirty, although clearer now than when he’d first turned on the shower. How much of this was the normal oil and grime that came from not showering for… for as long as he had, not really, and how much was blood and everything else that stuck to him? He didn’t think that he’d ever feel clean again, and watching all the water circle the drain he doubted that he’d ever be clean again.

And then there was his hair to think about. He didn’t know what he’d do about that. He’d tried to untangle all of the knots when he had the time, when his wrists weren’t broken or chained behind him. It was filthy and greasy and matted, and he’d not been able to do much for the times that he’d passed out in pools of blood that dried to him. In the beginning he’d been cleaned up so that he looked presentable to Earnshaw, his hair roughly brushed so hard that it felt that his scalp was being pulled away, but that was a long time ago.

He would have to cut it off. There wasn’t any question about that. He’d never worn it much past his collarbone, and he guessed that if it hung straight it would touch his middle back. Thankfully it didn’t; touching the mass of filth attached to his head made him recoil, his fingers burning as if he’d touched something wet that had been left in the sink.

Valery lay back down, but now that he’d acknowledged the mess that he was in he couldn’t stop thinking about it. How had he thought it felt good to lay like this? It was like being soaked through with rainwater or falling in a swamp. He managed to push himself over the lip of the bathtub, onto the tiled floor. Water sloshed off of him, and he eyed the towels, but they were so… clean, and white. He couldn’t stomach the thought of soiling one by touching it.

The mirror was foggy, the room warm with all the steam from the shower. The only thing that Valery that would be sharp enough for this was complementary razor that the hotel provided, if he broke the individual razors out of the plastic. Not ideal, but something that Valery could work with. What else could he do? Call room service and order a steak, then use the knife? It was laughable. His days of clever improvising were behind him, he thought bitterly. He wasn’t going to push his life.

And there was that mirror opposite the door to the bathroom. Valery felt ill, knowing that the only thing protecting him from it was a flimsy door.

He was still too weak to stand, and so crouched on the bathroom floor before finally freeing the three razors. Pressing one against his thumb, he confirmed that they weren’t as sharp as he’d hoped, but they were sharp enough. Valery took a chunk of his hair and held it taut, then slid the razor over the hair above the thick black tangle.

The razor didn’t slide through the hair as easily as he’d hoped. How was this razor supposed to be used to shave, he thought, when it couldn’t do even its most basic function? He pressed harder, eventually realising that he had better luck if he tried sawing at his hair rather than just pressing the sharp edge harder. When he finally finished cutting away that massive knot of hair, he dropped it on the floor, not really giving a damn about how disgusting this would be for the cleaner tomorrow but thinking of that poor person all the same. How would it look, to come into the bathroom with hair strewn across the floor? Suspicious, perhaps, but perhaps no more recognisable than he would look if he just walked out of here with his head in this state. No, whoever was tasked with this much would just be thinking about how disgusting it was, how disgusting Valery was.

For a time he worked methodically at hacking away all of the knots and mat. His arms burned from the effort of holding his arms up to his head, and so he brought up his legs so that he could lean against his knees. At certain angles it was difficult hold his head so that he could actually get to the part of his hair that he needed, but he worked it out eventually. A few times his hand slipped and he sliced his fingers, bleeding further into the mess. He didn’t stop to look at the damage, but just focused on the pain and on the task at hand. The razors dulled the longer that he worked, making it more difficult to actually cut, but while he worked it was easy to not think about what it was that he was doing. He had a task to complete. All he had to do was finish it. Then, eventually, he did.

Valery looked around himself. Slowly he raised his hand to this head. He ran his sore fingers through what was left of his hair. It was patchy work, with everything that was left cut to different lengths but still so, so pathetically short.

He blinked quickly, and tried to swallow as hard as he could. The tangy feeling that came when he smelled mint gum or breath-mints came to the back of his throat now. He waited for it to settle. It didn’t. His vision simply blurred.

“Of everything to be upset about,” he choked out, forcing himself to speak. To hear something apart from the sound of the shower still running, still keeping the room warm. Valery drew in a deep breath that shuddered in his chest, and again ran his hand over his head.

This was what he looked like now. He used to keep it tied at the base of his skull. Sometimes it simply hung there, when he was just tying it out of his face, while other times he put in some work and did something more intricate with it.

His head felt lighter. It felt good not to have that mess attached to him anymore, and he admitted that, but the more that Valery thought about it the more that the whole situation brought over a wave of revulsion. With everything that had happened to him, what kind of person did it make him to sit here, angry and sad, because he no longer looked the way that he wanted? He wouldn’t have looked the same, anyway, once all the wounds finished healing and scarred. He might be thinner, yes, and he might have enjoyed that once, but he would always look ugly now. After everything that had happened—that was still happening—it wasn’t right that Valery’s strongest reaction be sadness that he wouldn’t be as pretty as he used to be.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he asked the ceiling, although of course there was no answer. If he had his way, Valery would sink into the floor and stay there, because just thinking about getting up and leaving this tiny room was too awful. But he’d left a different tiny room not long ago, just the day before, and he’d made it this far. That had seemed impossible before he’d done it, even as he was doing it. It still felt impossible now, really.

What had he thought he’d do once he got away? If he had a gun right now he’d put it in his mouth and aim towards the back and fire, and if he didn’t know for a fact that the razors in his hand were shit at cutting anything then he’d climb back into the bath and slit his wrists while the water ran hot. Neither of these options were available.

When he stood it felt too easy, and when he climbed back into the shower and curled back into a tight ball under the water, he could no sooner believe that he’d moved than he could believe that he’d escaped. Valery closed his eyes, and laughed in a choked kind of way. Water fell over his face into his mouth, and then poured from over his lips into the bathtub itself. There was no way that he could get through this. He had no life to go back to, and no one that he could go to for help. How had he ever thought that he had friends, or anyone that cared about him?

But he was free. Yesterday, the idea that he’d be clean was too impossible to even consider, but now…

Now, it was still impossible, but he was laying under a shower, in a room that had a sterile light. It was safe enough, at least, to close his eyes.

[thewildwaffle]

Abduction - Chapter 11

It’s been, what? Three weeks? Wow! I think so. I was going to make this chapter longer, but honestly, if I tried to fit everything in that I planned, it’d be a while before this got posted and three weeks seems to be more than long enough (Wowza!)

I have actually made a good map outline thingy of what’s going to happen in the next bit of this story, so hopefully that means that actually writing it will be faster for a little while (fingers crossed!)

As always, thanks for reading! Thanks for commenting! Thanks for encouraging me to keep going! I do a little happy dance when I see that people are actually getting excited about this story! Thanks everyone!

First Chapter       Previous Chapter       Next Chapter

***

Grow up! I should grow up?! Who does she think she is? Mike stormed through the branches, shoving them out of his way and letting them snap behind him. Impulsive? Why? Because I’m willing to act when needed? If that’s impulsive, then what’s the problem?

There wasn’t really a path to walk on, so the going was slow. Worried about getting lost, he paused just out of sight of the clearing. Close enough to get back easily, far enough to not be seen from it. He kicked at a few branches on the ground, muttering and cursing.

Part of him knew he was being childish. Knew he was acting in just the way that Wenona had called him out on. There was another part, though- a bigger and louder part at the moment, that was too mad to care. Grow up.

He’d heard that before. Made him mad then too.

“Impulsive… Aaaargh!” He swung a hard punch at the trunk of the nearest tree. It splintered. He pulled his hand away, a fist-sized imprint with cracks now adorned up and down the trunk. “Huh. Not as tough as earth trees, are ya? Probably would have broken my hand if I’d punched a pine or a maple or a…”

He stopped. It was like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on his head. Behind the tree, just a few feet away, stood a very familiar shape.

“Montauk,” he whispered.

Neither Mike nor the Montauk moved. Neither dared breath. It seemed that an eternity  passed in those moments. Mike was sure his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He felt his legs were going to give out under him and started to reach out to steady himself against the dented tree. The moment he began shifting his weight, the alien sprang at him. Time seemed to move in slow motion and Mike saw the flash of the blade almost too late.

Continuing with his initial momentum, he dropped to the ground on one knee. The montauk’s knife just knicked him in the arm. He spun on the spot sweeping his other leg at the alien’s six insect-like legs and pushed it forward. It toppled over and was almost buried by the huge pack on its back. Mike hope it was squished under its seemingly very heavy weight.

Unfortunately not. The montauk spun around on the ground, lashing out with the knife as it did so. Mike jumped over the attack and landed on the alien’s back, or rather, on it’s pack. He could both hear and feel unknown objects shift and/or crack upon his landing.

“NO! GET OFF!”

It immediately flipped over on it’s side, throwing Mike off and into a small bush with broad purple leaves. He scrambled to his feet, bracing himself for another attack. It didn’t come.

Instead, the Montauk was crouched over it’s pack, rummaging through the contents.

It was distracted. But it was still armed, and Mike’s arms was bleeding. Oh, it was bleeding more than he thought it should - it must have been more than a knick.

Then he saw it - the knife. Or, well, one might roughly call it was a knife. It was a weird knife thing. It looked like it was made from broken bits of plating, melted and burned together then sharpened along the thinner side. It was just lying there, between them on the ground.

Without another thought, Mike lunged for the weapon. The montauk must have caught the motion in the corner of it eye. It jerked its head toward him, realized what he was doing, and let out a terrifying screech. Mike dove, grabbed the knife, and rolled out of the way as the montauk swiped at him. Two of its sharp forearms got stuck in the ground for a moment. Just a moment, but long enough for Mike to get a good swing at it.

The blade cut into the exoskeleton, leaving an oozing purple gash across the dark, shiny limb. The montauk screeched and clicked angrily, backing up a few steps, just out of reach, grasping at the wound. Blood for blood, then. It knew Mike wasn’t to be messed with now. He fiddled with the knife, trying to find a more comfortable way to hold it. It was clear that it was not made for hands like his.

“No! Give it back! You’ve no idea how long it took me to make that!” it screamed.

Mike held out the knife threateningly, “I don’t really care, but if you want this knife, you’ll have to take it from my cold, dead hands.”

The montauk lowered its body so that it could walk on its four lower limbs while still using its upper arms to protectively hold its large, dingy pack. “I’ve no idea what you’re saying, strange creature, but if you understand me, know this - I will get my blade back. Even if I have to take it from your cold, lifeless grasp.”

***

He felt the pain long before he could really tell where the pain was coming from. At first, it was just a general ache. Then a throb. Oh frewan, he thought, why? What happened?

“Jebannuck? Are you okay? Can you hear me? Say something, or uh, moan again if you can hear me.”

He tried opening his eyes. It seemed he could only manage a squint. That only made the pain in his head stronger.

“Wenona? What hap… where are we?”

“Uh, the planet? I don’t remember it’s name. You put us on the escape pod and before you shut the doors, the ship was hit and you got knocked in here with us.” Wenona stepped closer and crouched down next to him. Jebannuck felt a cool cloth being pressed on his forehead. He winced. It was very tender.

“Sorry,” Wenona continued. “I’m definitely no medic. I’ve been looking through the first aid supplies for something to help with my hand, but the stuff that I recognize all seems like it’s pretty much just the basic kit stuff. Better than nothing though. You’ve been out a long time. How are you feeling?”

Jebannuck reached for the cloth Wenona was pressing onto what seemed to be a large chent-egg of a bump on his head.

I’m lucky to still be alive after a hit like that, he thought.

“Help me up. Slowly, please.” He leaned onto one arm and reached for Wenona with the other. She carefully helped him sit up and slide over to where he could lean against the wall. When he was situated, Wenona took a step back from helping him and reached again for the first aid kit. Jebannuck finally caught sight of her hand. It looked ghastly.

“What in the name of all that is bright and serene happened to your hand?”

Wenona froze mid-reach and pulled her hand back, holding it with her other hand as she examined it. “It’s… well… I’m not really sure. It’s kind of a long story but I think I’m allergic to something I hit.”

“Allergic to… you hit...” Jebannuck paused, looked around the pod and back to Wenona. “Where’s Mike?”

Wenona let out a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl, “That’s part of the long story. He wandered off, like a freakin’ idiot.”

He just stared at her. Part of him felt that this news wasn’t the least bit surprising. The other part of him felt… frustrated wasn’t a strong enough word. Infuriated? Worried? Exasperated? Exasperated. That was probably close enough. We’ve been here how long and he’s already gone and done the very thing I told him not to do.

His growing frown must have started using some injured muscles because his head started throbbing more painfully. Were all humans like this?

“No, I’m not. I told him he was an idiot and that we should at least wait until you woke up before we did anything else, but as you can see, that went so well.”

Jebannuck didn’t realize he had muttered his last thought out loud. Thankfully, Wenona didn’t seem to be offended. Either that or she was too busy rummaging through the first aid kit to take offense. He leaned forward as far forward as he dared and reached out his his hand for hers. “Let me see your injuries.”

Wenona looked up from her rummaging and back down at her swollen hand before holding it out. Jebannuck gingerly examined her hand, turning it over and noticed a few small specks of spores that were still clinging in the cracks of her palm. The skin was red in splotches and puffy. It looked very painful. Jebannuck winced, partly because of the hand, but also because leaning forward for that long was starting to send an ache down his back. He let go of her hand and rested against the wall again.

“There should be a few jugs of water in a container under the harness you were strapped in. Rinse your hand off outside as well as you can, but be careful with the water. It’s what we’ve got until we can find and filter more.” Wenona got up, retrieved a jug, and stepped out the door to clean up.

“While you’re out there,” Jebannuck started. Wenona paused and looked back, “Yell for Mike. He needs to get back here. We need him back here.”

Wenona’s eyebrows furrowed. Was that a look of anger? Irritation? What happened while he was out? It looked like she was going to say no. Instead, she continued out the door with a quiet, “Alright.”

Jebannuck sat for a moment alone, a bit confused at Wenona’s reaction. She and Mike had nearly been inseparable since they’d been rescued. He would have to find out what happend between them. The last thing they needed right now was for those two to be fighting with each other on top of everything else.

He carefully scooted the first aid kit closer and pulled out a few packages for inflamation and a few basic poison neutralizers, just in case. He knew of the plant, or the type of plants that grow on this planet. Some can be deadly. Even touching them could cause serious harm or loss of limb - or more. Wenona’s injury, while it certainly looked nasty, didn’t seem to be bothering her nearly as much as it should be. Or at least, it didn’t seem to be yet.

Mike was still out there in all that though.

Blast it, where was he? Surely he had the sense enough to not wander too far?

He closed his eyes and rested his head in a crevice of the harness. Mike reminded him a lot of the humans that had been enlisted onto the last ship he had served on. They’d only been on the crew for about half a standard solar orbit before Jebannuck was transferred, but they had struck him as being perpetually curious, loud, and at times, foolhardy. Being part of the crew, however, meant that they had tasks to attend to, protocols to keep up, and instructions to follow. That being said, however, they always seemed to be expert in finding loopholes in rules and orders that would keep them out of trouble when they (to quote them) “bent the rules a bit.”

As far as the datasheet showed, they were a major gain to the crew in matters of productivity and efficiency. As far as actually working or being around them, Jebannuck did his best to ignore them and their boisterous ways.

They were annoying.

He might have started dozing, lost in his thoughts. He wasn’t sure. Well, actually, he must have been because he jolted awake with a start. He’d heard something. He looked around. Wenona was still gone. Was it her voice he’d heard?

Yes. And he heard it again. Outside the pod. She was yelling something. Screaming something. Was she saying actual words? His mind felt alert and foggy at the same time. It was… disorienting to say the least. Like his brain was trying to process as much as possible all at once without making sense of anything as it did so.

It took a few attempts, but eventually he made it to his feet, holding onto a few loose straps to steady himself and get his bearings. Wenona was yelling again. So was someone else, someone with a thin and wheezy voice.

It took a few heartbeats, but then everything cleared up as fast as a flash. It was a fight! Something or someone was out there with Wenona. She could be killed! He limped to the door as fast as he could. His muscles felt slow to respond, but he made it. Taking a deep breath before sliding the pod door open, he pulled out his blaster, which was still holstered on a strap near his waist.

***

 Previous Chapter       Next Chapter

[mrneighbourlove]

Beacon to Damnation: Ch 7. Epilogue

Leere watched the sun set with empty emotion as the sun finished setting on the ocean. The rest of the crew gave her plenty of space. As the night came her adrenaline finally started to die down. She felt the weight of her wounds to her body…and her soul. Sharp pain came from her hands and back. The moon came up showering her in a new glow.

Looking at her hands she saw how her nails had turned a dark black and blood leaked from her finger tips. She didn’t need to see it, but she knew that her tattoo on her back had begun to leak as well. But finally, worse of all, she didn’t care.

Necromancy was different than Blood Magic. With Necromancy all she had to do to manipulate a body was make sure it had no living soul. The soul provides protection, a field of life. Without it creatures become nothing more then bone and flesh. Blood Magic took sacrifice to utterly dominate flesh, to push past the safeguard of a soul.

Her own blood had to be used, for one, but she also had to give up a part of her soul. It wouldn’t have been as bad if she was calm when employing it, but she rushed its use, and was consumed by anger at the time. The effects always made her feel numb emotionally. Physically it made her pale skin even more so white and her hair darker. And finally, it brought the princess closer to whispers of the dead, usually the damned. The soul could recover with time and rest, but her mind was another story. It opened her up much more to her own inner demons, unbearable guilt hitting her. The alternative was giving up her empathy and care.

So many dead wracked Leere. How many had perished? She couldn’t even save her own friend. Why did she live? Why did someone like her have to survive? Carlos shouldn’t have had to die like that. He was so scared, alone, and she failed him. She was a monster compared to a sweet soul like Carlos.

Leere wanted to cry, but couldn’t. She knew this process by now. If she lived through the numbness, the emotion would crash into her later. She had to get back home before that happened. If she wasn’t near family…..No. Better not to think about that.

Looking one last time at the moonlit ocean she frowned. She only hoped every soul could at least find purgatory after the suffering they attained in death. “I’m sorry Carlos. If you are watching down on me….forgive me.”

~

Leere rode out back to Hyrule in silence for the rest of her trip. No one dared talk to her. On a sail boat she couldn’t even have a shower, having to settle with using dry towels to clean herself. Leere scrubbed and scrubbed, only getting rid of surface level guts and blood. The stench stuck to her, and the blood stained her pale skin. It was unhealthily white, so the patches of blood stuck out.

Getting off the boat she traveled the rest of the way on horseback. It was easy enough to flash a bag of rupees. No one argued with the walking blood soaked woman. A whole day of slow travel she finally arrived at Hyrule castle. One guard wasn’t sure who the hooded character that was approaching.

“Halt. I need some identif-“

He halted when he saw the look Leere gave him, not only recognizing her, but realizing that something was horribly off. Examining her further he almost gagged in horror.

“P-Princess Leere. Do you need-“

“No. Move aside.”

Leere continued onwards to the palace. Her limbs were sore from the lack of magical treatments. Getting off her horse she avoided the blue dragon that sniffed at her. All she wanted to do was get inside and not be harassed. “Hmmm, you smell terrible….”

“Ba’Puu was it? Please do not tell my family that I am here. I am not presentable.” Getting off the horse had opened up some of her wounds. Blood leaked down her arm and onto the ground. Ba’Puu wasn’t sure if he should force the tiny human to seek help, or even stop her from entering. She reeked of death.

“….Very well. I’d advise you seek help though.”

Leere was thankful she wasn’t stopped by him. Entering through the doors she kept walking forward, quickly avoiding family members. Her dark cloak kept her covered as she continued down the halls. All she wanted was to be alone.

The sound of clicking got her attention behind her. She whipped her head to the corner of the hall. Did she movement? Was it her imagination? The clicking happened again above her. Instead of looking she ran the rest of the way to her room. Entering she locked the door and panted. A bath. She needed a bath.

Why was it at the end she felt her weakest. Dragging her feet she entered her bathroom. She took one look at her reflection and was frozen. She looked like….she didn’t know who she was looking at. The amount of blood on this woman’s sickly pale face, with shining red eyes through the messy black hair was, well, unsettling would be an understatement.

She started her bathtub. Thankfully for her it was designed for her Gerudo siblings, so her body had plenty of room. Grabbing some sewing tools she bite down on her teeth fixing her stitches. God she was tired of bleeding.

Stepping into the water burned all her senses, and her heart finally started to beat faster. Taking the soap she started to scrub herself clean of all her layers of filth. The bath grew from a crystal clear water to a big red tub of red gunk. Taking the soap she scrubbed hard on her breasts, wiping away the guts of her friend. Finally she washed her head, desperate to get the smell off her. She just kept scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing, but mentally she felt there was always a bit of stench that just didn’t come out.

Nearly finished she saw in the still water the image of Carlos. Leere’s eyes intensely looked at the water, the torn apart remains flickering in the waves. He smiles a sad smile, his lips curling a bit too wide, than reaches for her. His mangled arm actually comes out of the water to touch her. Leere yells in alarm at her mind bending on her, and smacks at the water to get rid of the image, her foot kicking out and unplugging the drain.

Getting out as quick as she could she looks back at the tub, the arm no longer there. Slowly she pears back into the tub, the tension building, crawling down her back. No Carlos. Upon this she tiredly laughs to herself. “Of course…how about a shower for the rest of my clean.”

Leere let the hot shower clean the rest of her off. Getting out she dried herself off, and entered her room. It was dark and quiet. Sitting down she curled up into her queen sized bed. Panting Leere gripped her bed sheets, smelling the sweetness of the clean fabric. Why then, did felt so empty. Everything felt so empty. Nothing mattered to her, nothing except the pain.

Feeling her pillow case she found her hidden knife. It had a simple leather sheath to stop her from stabbing her head while sleeping. Taking it out all her dark thoughts swirled in her brain. The guilt of being the only survivor and the recent horrors that wracked her mind. Leere, pressing the blade to her neck, pushed. Rest. Just one motion.

                                 A knock came at her door. A small amount of blood leaked as she nicked the side of her neck. Leere held the knife to her throat for a few more seconds, but dropped it. She couldn’t commit to it. At least not with the knocking. Hobbling over in sea of self doubt and judgement she opened the door to tell off whatever servant so she could try again.

Only it wasn’t just any housemaid, it was Rinku. She had an angelic warmth that came to Leere just from looking at her. Rinku had a great amount of alarm in her eyes. “Leere, are you alright? There was blood leading to- By god those cuts!”

“Rinku. You’re here? You’re back?”

“Yeah, I came back a month ago.” Rinku steadily holds Leere’s shoulders. “Leere. What happened to you!? Are you doing ok?”

Leere felt the weight of Rinku’s hands on her. The love and concern coming from her voice. It flipped a switch on in Leere and the Princess started to hyperventilate and cry, all her emotions pouring out like a geyser.  “Oh-oh god! Oh God! OH GOD!”  

Rinku let Leere practically collapse on her, holding her adoptive sister close. “I’m here Leere. You don’t need to let go.”

“Why am I alive?!”

Rinku squeezed Leere close, their chests pressing together, the flow of their heartbeats in sync. “What matters is that you ARE alive. Just let it all out.”

Leere kept crying and crying until she passed out in Rinku’s arms. Her mind took its toll processing her survivors guilt. It wasn’t until the next morning she woke up. Leere was afraid to open her eyes right away, in fear of seeing another nightmare. Moving around she felt something warm in her bed. Finally opening them she saw Rinku resting with her. On a nightstand were empty bottles of fairy extracts and clean bandages.

Feeling her body Leere noticed much of her recent scars were gone do to the potions effects. Felt good to have fresh bandages as well. Taking a deep sigh she snuggled closer to Rinku’s warmth. The hero slowly woke. “You feel better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Rinku squeezed Leere’s hand. “I felt a deep pain within you Leere. It was terrifying for me to see you like that. I used what potions and medicine I could. Even some of my Triforce to make you feel better.”

“You got a pretty big soul to help little old me.”

“Hey, I got plenty to spare. Especially for you.”

Leere pressed her face against Rinku’s neck. “Thank you again. Really. It means more then you know to me that you care.”

“Hey. I’ll always care about you. Always.”

Leere put a hand over her heart. “Rinku, will you accompany me to the countryside?”

“Hmm? Of course.”

The two woman got out of bed and Leere got properly changed. Leaving the castle Leere smiled at family members where she could, promising to catch up when she could.  Going through castle town Leere went to the market and bought a charming locket from a shop woman and continued out to the fields. She was grateful to have Rinku beside her. The Hylian Hero helped push away the lingering thoughts of guilt and voices.

Taking a shovel she dug a small hole and put the locket inside. Burying it Leere wrung her hands in worry, doing her best to not have another breakdown. “I’m…sorry Carlos. I couldn’t take anything of yours back with me, so I bought something I thought you might like. I know how you loved to get jewelry for your dates.”

Leere looked up at the afternoon sun beaming down on her. “I can’t keep saying I should have done more. It’s not fair to either of us….all I can say is….I hope you are at peace once again Carlos. And I’ll do better to protect people next time. I’ll do better….goodbye.”

Leere turned away from the small memorial she built. She wasn’t going to recover from her latest journey in one day, but this was a start. “I’m ready to go home.”

Rinku smiled brightly at her. “Glad to hear it. Covarog convinced his wife that we should have Lasagna tonight.”

Leere’s interest perked. “Chicken or Beef?”

“Chicken I think!”

“That sounds rather good.”

Leere focused her thoughts on home. Her family was all she needed to focus on. Taking a break for a while would be just what she needed.

https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/172116483546/beacon-to-damnation-ch-6-a-melancholy-sunset Previous Ch.

[mangled-dreams]

Jameson accidentally cuts himself and tries to cover it up, but the blood is clearly visible, so everyone just assumed he was self harming. He wasn't, but it just seemed like it.

Admittedly not as long as some of my others, but not any less entertaining for me to write. I love the brother dynamic between the egos. It’s just adorable and fun to write about. 

Concerning Wounds

Hedidn't mean to cut his arm with one of Anti's favorite sharp knives.He'd been cleaning the den when he found Anti's knife nearly buriedin the couch cushions. He'd pulled too hard, his foot slipping onsomething on the hard wood flooring, and in his attempt to catchhimself slice a nice long line into his forearm.

Panickedat the sight of blood Jameson rushes to the kitchen dropping theknife into the skin and rush to turn on the faucet. Slapping his freehand on the counter Jameson tries to get someone's attention to comehelp him. He doesn't believe he can die but it's not as if he wantsto test the theory.

Inhis panic Jameson leaves a horrorfying blood trail from the den tothe kitchen, his hands leaving bloody prints as he searches for atowel or rag to press against the wound. It's far deeper than he hadoriginally thought and being in panic mode isn't helping control theblood flow.

Pressinghis hand tightly against the wound Jameson runs to the bathroom onthe ground floor and gets into the medical kit Henrik keeps wellstocked. Pulling it down Jameson cleans his arm, using the butterflysutures in the kit to close the edges together he then wraps it in acling gauze until he can see Henrik for better clean up.

Oncehe's sure he won't bleed out Jameson goes to the den to clean up thecrime scene he left behind. Now that the panic is subsiding Jamesonremembers everyone is out until the evening. Sighing Jameson gets outa large bucket, cleaning solution, and some rags. Getting on hishands a knees Jameson begins the cleaning process all the way to thekitchen then to the bathroom.

Nearlyan hour passes before Jameson feels as if he got everything takencare of. He'd emptied his bucked three times for fresh water cleanermixture. He'd ended up changing his ruined shirt for another aftereverything was cleaned up. Walking into the kitchen Jameson isgreeted by Henrik and Marvin.

“Howvas your day?” Henrik asks going to the fridge to retrieve a soda.

Jamesonshrugs. He tells them he had an accident but was able to get the messcleaned up before they arrived. Marvin nods, his eyes wanderingaround the kitchen thinking Jameson had an accident while trying tocook.

Chucklingas he looks at the ceiling Marvin says, “I remember when Chasetried to “spice” up making flapjacks and ended up getting batternearly across the whole ceiling.” Looking to Jameson Marvin pauses,his head tilting to the slide at the sight of red stained bandagewrapped around Jameson's arm. “Jay, what happened to your arm?”Marvin asks.

Jamesonlooks at his arm and realizes he still needs Henrik to look at hiswound. Looking at Marvin Jameson tells him he accidentally cut hisarm with a knife.

“Howdo you accidentally cut yourself that high up?” Marvin askswatching Jameson lift his sleeve up. He is just baffled at how a cuthigh up on his forearm could have been an accident.

“Jameson,how was that an “accident”?” Marvin asks looking to Henrik forassistance. Henrik quickly slides his soda onto the counter androunds Jameson, taking care to unwrap his arm. Jameson feels queasyupon seeing his arm hasn't healed at all and is still seeping blood.

Henrikgets into a draw next to Jameson and pulls out two pairs of gloveshanding a pair to Marvin. “Vat did you do, Jamezon?”

“Jamie,do we need to have a talk? Are you feeling okay? Did you do this onpurpose?” Marvin asks sincerely concerned for Jameson's mentalhealth.

Jamesonshakes his head telling Marvin and Henrik he had found one of Anti'sknives in the couch and while trying to clean up slipped and somehowcut his arm. He doesn't understand how all of it happened but hadtried to stop the bleeding in the kitchen but couldn't and went tothe bathroom for the medical kit to wrap himself up before cleaningeverything. He'd been so concerned with getting all the blood cleanedup and making sure no other knives are lurking in the furinture he'dforgotten to take it easy with his injured arm.

Henriknods deciding that the cut requires stitching and a good wrapping.“Marvin, hold right here. I vill be back vith needle and zread. Vevill have to zew up zis wound and wrap it before zit gets vorse.”Henrik says waiting for Marvin to apply pressure on Jameson's armbefore leaving for his office, discarding his bloody gloves on theway. Not only does he not want to spread around Jameson's blood forhygienic reasons but Jameson said he'd just finished cleaning anddoes not want to undo all the work Jameson just finished.

“Yousure it was an accident Jay? I'm not gonna think less of ya.”Marvin says once Henrik is out of ear shot.

Jamesontells him it was an accident and that his thoughts do not movetowards self harm. He promises Marvin if his thoughts were to everget to that point he'd come straight to Marvin for help and comfort.

Marvinnods patting Jameson's head affectionately. “I'll hold you tothat.” Marvin smirks watching Henrik come into the kitchen againwith a medical kit from his office. The three remain silent as Henrikgives Jameson a few shots of lidocaine to numb the cut and stitcheshim up. As he finished Henrik tells Jameson to be careful and keep itwrapped up and dry.

“Unrememba to keep to take zit eazy un no more playing vith ze knives.”Henrik orders in a teasing nature. Jameson nods his head agreeing tothe order. Henrik smiles. “I suggest you rezt for now. Marvin un Ivill get dinner ztarted.” Henrik says shooing Jameson into theliving room after cleaning him up and wrapping his arm again. Jamesonleaves giving his idea for dinner to which both happily agree andshoo Jameson away.

Laterthan night at dinner a similar scene plays out as everyone gathers toeat and sees Jameson's red stained bandage. Thankfully Marvin andHenrik come to Jameson's defense. It's rather funny to Jameson aswell as endearing his alter selves would be so concerned for hismental well being.

“Anti,you need to keep your knives out of the couches.” Marvin sayschanging the subject from Jameson to the real issue at hand.

“Iwould never..”

“Jamesoncut himself cleaning up after you.” Marvin says cutting Anti off.

Jamesontries to defuse the conversation by saying he's alright and everyone,Anti included need to make sure that their things are picked up. Hehad slipped on one of Marvin's silk handkerchiefs. Reluctantlyeveryone agrees to do a better job at picking up themselves. Jamesonthanks them and a comfortable conversation takes place of the fingerpointing.  

Jamesonfeels pretty happy with the outcome of his unfortunate events. He'dbeen trying to find a way to ask his compatriots to better clean upafter themselves and this was a good platform for it, other than himgetting hurt. Despite the pain today was a good day.

[lisatelramor]

A Convergence of Thieves

A kind of sort of continuation of Snitched Spark

Daisuke’s pencil was a droning scritch-scratch against his homework paper. The end was finally in sight but he wanted to do pretty much anything but keep working. Even Mom’s training looked tempting at the moment. Dodging lasers and pit traps was infinitely better than doing yet another math problem. Hand feeling like a lead weight, he moved to the next problem.

“Daisuke!” Mom’s voice called from downstairs. “You have a friend at the door!”

Daisuke dropped the pencil so fast Dark was laughing at him in the back of his mind. Shush, he thought. You were just as bored as I was.

“Yeah, but it’s not my homework.” There was a sensation like Dark was sitting up and stretching, attention focusing back on the world. “So is it Saehara?”

Dunno, Mom didn’t say who it was. Daisuke took the stairs two at a time, rushing past his mom at the foot of the stairs. She had her interested-and-planning-to-eavesdrop expression on, and Daisuke knew that it couldn’t be Saehara at the door. Probably not Riku either since he was pretty sure Riku didn’t even know where he lived. Satoshi? But no, Mom would have looked annoyed...

Daisuke skidded to a stop in the entryway, thankfully trap free at the moment, and opened the door. A stranger was on the other side. He was a high school student with an unfamiliar uniform, dark brown hair that looked like it had been carefully styled except for a cowlick in the back, and he had blue eyes that looked vaguely familiar.

“Hey, Niwa-san!” the stranger said in a cheerful voice that Daisuke’s instincts instantly pinged as fake. “I was in the area and thought I’d drop by!”

“Do I know you?”

The stranger put a hand on his chest looking mock-injured. “Ouch. To think that I’m that forgettable.”

There was something about the tone of voice and the theatric body language...

“Oh hell no,” Dark said. “That’s— ”

“Kaitou Kid!” Daisuke blurted in time with Dark’s mental voice.

“Oh good, you do remember me!” Kid grinned, and that at least was familiar. Most people didn’t smile that widely.

“How did you find my home?!”

“You have a really recognizable face.” Kid’s grin became a bit fixed. “I don’t suppose you could do me a favor?”

“What, besides keeping an eye out for that gem of yours?”

“Yes.” Kid shifted and Daisuke’s eyes flicked down him for the first time as his stance became...off. He’d been relaxed and casual when Daisuke opened the door but he was putting more weight on one side than the other now and one arm held at an angle that didn’t look as relaxed as he was trying to be. Daisuke looked at Kid’s side. It was hard to tell with the black uniform, but there might have been the start of a wet patch there. “You see,” Kid said, “I wouldn’t ask if I had anyone else to turn to. I’m a bit far from home.”

“Were you shot?!” Daisuke squeaked.

“Ah, no. Slightly stabbed actually.”

“Oh my god!”

“It isn’t that bad. It missed anything vital. I just am having trouble getting it to stop bleeding...”

“Mom!” Daisuke called.

“Well, didn’t see that coming,” Dark said. “Guess I’ll put off punching him until he’s no longer bleeding.”

Not the time, Daisuke thought. “Get in here,” he said to Kid, tugging him indoors. “The person who stabbed you isn’t nearby right?”

“Oh, no, I left them trussed up for the police. I took a page out of Spiderman’s book. Can’t exactly stick around for evidence though.” Kid didn’t protest the manhandling; if anything he moved willingly wherever Daisuke pushed him.

Mom appeared with Towa behind her, badly hiding her interest behind a polite smile. “Mom, Kaitou Kid. Kid, my mom,” Daisuke said. “Towa, go get the first aid kit—the big one—he’s got a stab wound.”

“Oh my.” Mom’s brows went up.

“A pleasure,” Kid said with a charming smile that didn’t let on to how much pain he had to be in. He produced a white rose from somewhere on his non-injured side. “I would bow in appreciation of such a lovely lady, but I’m afraid I’d end up swooning at your feet if I tried.”

Daisuke was horrified to see his mom actually blush as she accepted the flower. “No, that’s fine,” she said giggling for a second before looking serious. “Come to the kitchen.”

“I have the first aid kit!” Towa screeched, barreling into the kitchen only moments after Kid sat down at one of the kitchen chairs. They all turned and looked at her holding it aloft like a prize.

“Thank you,” Kid said with his charming smile. It affected Towa about as well as it did Mom.

I am extremely concerned about that smile, Daisuke said.

“Mine’s better,” Dark muttered. “His is super fake anyway.”

No kidding, Daisuke thought. There was definitely a wet patch on the uniform now. “Can you take the uniform off?” he asked.

Kid paused. “Yes,” he said after a beat. “I got it on, so I can get it off. Should I take it off the way I put it in is the real question.” He undid buttons onehanded just a fraction slower than Daisuke could manage, sliding out of the uniform jacket with minimal movement from his torso. A bloodstained button up shirt followed, but the much bloodier undershirt was a different story. “I don’t think I should twist to pull it off...”

Mom pulled out a razor blade from the first aid kit. Kid held very still as she cut his shirt off. Daisuke could see his heartbeat fast in his throat though his face was impassive. It had to be hard to trust a stranger to help you.

Air hissed through Daisuke’s teeth as he saw the wound. ‘Slightly stabbed’ turned out to be a cut a little longer than Daisuke’s hand ranging from Kid’s lower ribs in his left side down to the flesh along his side. It wasn’t a neat cut; the knife had clearly skidded off Kid’s ribs before sinking a little bit deeper when it met flesh. Kid seemed to be right about it missing anything vital though. It was bleeding sluggishly but there weren’t any organs showing through the hole in his side at least. Daisuke’s stomach flipped at the thought. “Who tried to kill you?” Daisuke asked. He held bloody t-shirt scraps as Towa handed Mom a bottle of disinfectant. Towa looked like she was going to start panicking and turn into a bird at any moment. Mom had the non-expression she always put on when she didn’t want to show how she really felt about something.

Kid sucked in a sharp breath at the first sting of disinfectant but had the control not to flinch away as the wound was cleaned out. “Oh,” he said with a deceptively airy tone, “you know. People. There’s a lot of people who don’t like thieves.”

“I’ve never had anyone try to stab me in the gut,” Daisuke said.

“I think he was aiming for my heart actually. Must be pretty unexperienced. Everyone knows you stab up into it, not down through the ribs.” Kid could have been talking about something as mundane as how to plant tulip bulbs rather than his own almost murder.

Daisuke stared, horrified.

“I’ve run into a lot of murders lately,” Kid said, like that was an explanation.

“This is going to need stitches,” Mom said. “You got lucky though. It missed hitting anything vital.”

Kid breathed out slowly. “Luck does seem to turn out in my favor more often than not.”

“Luck would be not getting stabbed at all,” Dark said to Daisuke. “That guy has as much bad luck as good.”

“So you got stabbed by someone who doesn’t like thieves and you came here. Why here? You didn’t know if we’d help or not.” Daisuke stared at Kid trying to see past his masks.

Kid was a supremely annoying person though and he had all the readability of a smooth stone. “I took a chance,” Kid said. He was careful not to look at Mom threading the needle, but he only flinched once at the first press of the needle through skin. He had an alarming pain tolerance. “And I didn’t know anyone else in Azumano. Usually I’d go to my assistant, but he’s sick at the moment.”

“No family to turn to?” Mom asked. She looked up at Kid, one eyebrow raised out of her own mask of an expression. “You’re awfully young to be doing this on your own.”

Was Kid young? He wasn’t old, but Daisuke couldn’t tell. The high school uniform he showed up in fit him and his face still had some of the roundness of childhood, but those things could be faked. He could be anywhere from sixteen to twenty-five with a face like that.

“Not around, no,” Kid said. He couldn’t quite hide a wince as the needle tugged a bit harder, forcing part of the raggedly cut flesh back together. He looked up at the ceiling, changing the subject. “I have to say, your security system is impressive here. The cameras are expertly hidden and I would love to see the extent of those traps in the entryway. Like how do you have a lock mechanism for the pit traps? They’re weight based triggers, correct?”

Daisuke and his mother gave Kid identical incredulous looks.

“Weight based,” Mom said after a beat. “All traps have mechanisms to turn them off. It has to be a functional house for people who aren’t thieves after all.” Her hands finished up the last few stitches, tying off the thread neatly.

Kid nodded. “Impressive. My weight based trap skills are still a bit trigger happy.”

Is...is he bonding with Mom over traps? Daisuke wondered.

“I think it’s working,” Dark replied.

And it had to be because Mom’s mask was melting into one Daisuke could remember from growing up when she would impassionedly drill techniques into his head. She finished taping gauze over the stitches and actually smiled. “What kind of pressure triggers are you using?”

And Kid smiled back. With a real smile as far as Daisuke could tell. Daisuke took a step back and toward Towa as they dived into a technical discussion. Kid still looked halfway to passing out, but he was so focused and genuinely interested in Mom’s words that he had to actually understand everything that she was talking about. Daisuke wasn’t really a trap person. He could evade them and think around them, but making them required an instinctive know how for how elements would work together that he just didn’t have. Kid didn’t seem to have that problem. If anything, his brain worked the same way Mom’s did with pulling all the details into a cohesive, functional whole.

Why does it feel like a bad thing that they are on the same wavelength?

“Maybe because some of Emiko’s traps are deadly and subtle?” Dark suggested, though he sounded just as weirded out.

“That sounds like the perfect way to cause chaos,” Kid said about some mechanism that relied on the vibrations of footsteps to be set off.

Mom grinned. Kid grinned back. Daisuke felt sorry for the police in advance. They were just doing their jobs.

“Oh no,” Dark said. “She likes him. Daisuke, get Kid out of here before Emiko adopts him and we have to deal with him all the time.”

It was too late though. Mom was already offering to show him how to install some of her touchier pressure sensors and a place to stay if he was ever in town.

“Mom!” Daisuke hissed.

“He clearly could use a bit of paternal guidance,” Mom hissed back, leaving Towa to help Kid back into a clean shirt. “And look at him.” Daisuke looked. There were a lot of scars on Kid’s torso alone. Some of them looked like gunshot wounds. Who had helped Kid get patched up then? “If his family isn’t willing or able to step up, he might as well have someone to turn to. One assistant isn’t much.”

Daisuke had Dark and Mom and Dad and Grandpa, Towa and Wiz and sometimes even Satoshi or Saehara or Riku to turn to when he was in over his head. He swallowed. Kid’s charisma and confidence and flirtations...were they all masks? And what was under them? Who did Kid turn to when he wasn’t sure? “Okay.”

Mom smiled and patted Daisuke on the shoulder. Then she was back to Kid, sweeping up his bloody clothes and promising to clean them up for him. “Just stay for dinner,” she said, pulling Towa with her to help. “Or spend the night even if you want. There’s plenty of room.”

“I can only stay for dinner,” Kid said, sounding apologetic.

“That’s fine! Daisuke, help him with anything he needs until dinner’s done.” Then Mom was off and Daisuke was stuck standing next to Kid feeling awkward.

Kid let go once she was out of sight, slumping in his chair with a grimace of pain. One hand hovered over his injury for a moment before the pain was smoothed away from his face and his hand tucked back into a casual position at his side. “You’re mom’s nice,” Kid said after a moment. He sounded exhausted.

“She’s like that. She’s the sort of person who will happily order you around and force feed you if you look a bit too thin.” Even if she didn’t like you, Daisuke thought, thinking of Satoshi. “What’s your mom like?”

Kid laughed once, flat. “Absent? She spends more time traveling than at home.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not sure what she thinks of me being a thief. Nothing too bad I guess or she wouldn’t have had me steal something for her...”

“I kind of have to be a thief. It’s the family business.”

“Huh.” Kid closed his eyes for a moment, all the exhaustion and pain showing in his face for a few seconds before it trickled away. He breathed out a long breath. “Thanks,” Kid said, eyes still closed. “For helping.”

“How could I not?” Daisuke asked.

Kid flashed him a tired smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Most people ask the opposite.”

Daisuke came to a decision. “You can rest upstairs for a bit? Dinner won’t be for a while.” He offered Kid a hand up.

Kid took it, letting Daisuke pull him to his feet. He wasn’t flirting or joking or otherwise trying to provoke or distract Daisuke at the moment, and Daisuke supposed he didn’t mind Kid if he was being like this. “I really can’t stay the night,” Kid said as Daisuke led him to his room. “I have a civilian life I have to get back to.”

“Stay only as long as you want.”

“I owe you one.”

As Kid settled onto the spare futon Daisuke kept in his room, Daisuke realized he was just about as bad as his mom when it came to taking in strays.

“You’re going to stubbornly try to make friends with him aren’t you?” Dark asked, sounding resigned.

Daisuke didn’t deny it. He was kind of curious about how another thief had grown up and what skills he had anyway. It wasn’t like there were an abundance of people to bond over having double lives with.

“That means I can’t punch him doesn’t it.”

He’s injured!

Dark sighed.

Daisuke left Kid to rest and went to help Mom with dinner. He had a feeling that this would be far from the last time Kid showed up and only time would tell if that was a good thing or not.

Emiko would adopt Kaito in a heartbeat. She got all ‘here eat more are you getting what you  need’ with SATOSHI and she considers him her family’s mortal enemy more or less. If she can go into mom mode on someone she dislikes, heck yeah, she’s gonna adopt the thief that’s still young and mostly doing it on his own. (The world is now doomed. Emiko’s trap skills plus Kaito’s offbeat creativity equals chaos.)