#those fuckers repost my stuff left and right

[beababoobies]

ME AGAIN!!! WITH A SAL X READER REQUEST (again) THIS TIME AIDJSJDH. a porn one at that !!!!

i need sal so bad its an actual problem

just like. imagine reader n the gang r havin a little sleepover. and reader is just so inconsolably turned on for some reason (maybe sal had his hand on their thigh when they watched a movie or smthin), so when everyone is asleep they asks sal to help them out :,,,) (his fingers r just so long n pretty,, they cant help but want them lol)

mayb he has to keep them quiet somehow, mayb covers their mouth/puts his fingers in their mouth to muffle them

hes so shy and nervous and awkward but he’s having the time of his life, watching the reader’s reactions. mayb he cant help but get himself off too, too enraptured by the way reader struggles to gasp and whine against his fingers

GOD DAMN.

would love if u wrote this mootie 🫶🏼🫶🏼 no pressure ofc ofc ofc !! (fem bodied reader pls if u dont mind <3!)

(i might write this too, i love my mind sometimes 🙏)

hey mootie!! Im giving you the fast pass because all the jjk stuff you repost got me into the series and I’m loving it, also cus you’re AMAZING! All characters are aged 20+ because this is based in chapter five of course, please do enjoy! :) (and for everyone waiting for their Hazbin requests to be filled - IT IS COMING! I am a busy woman.) 

Needy - Sal Fisher X Fem!Reader

words : 2k, warnings : SPICAYYYY!!, creampie, fingering, slightly public, needy!sal AND needy!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys, c’mon), hold the moan trope

The entire gang had been having more sleepovers ever since Sal and Todd had found the new house. Larry was moving in so it was just the normal next step, and you loved coming over so much. More specifically to spend time with your boyfriend, but also just to feel like old times again. Even Ash came from the city every once and a while, and this was one of those days.

Since it was Larry’s last day living in the Apartments, you had all agreed to made the most out of that small basement apartment you had spent so much of your awkward teen years in. You had been doing all the same shit you used to all day - smoking in the treehouse, playing card games for hours. 

You and Sal huddled up around his old gamebuddy, playing the games Larry had kept long forgotten in the corners of his room, Larry and Ash painting on a shared canvas, chatting about life while Larry’s old metal mixtapes blasted in the background, and Todd and Neil cuddled up on the beanbag in the corner, occasionally joining in their conversation, but mostly just cuddled up and enjoying each others company. All of this was wonderful, nostalgic - even healing. 

That was all up until Sal quietly suggested you all watched an old horror movie, and you were all huddled together in the dark, you with Sal leaning on your shoulder on your right, and Ash on your left, giggling and nudging you like old times. Larry laid out casually on the floor in front of you all because of how shit his eyes were from years of refusing glasses. Which should’ve been fine.

In fact - it was fine. Until Sal decided it would be a wonderful idea to put his hand on your thigh. Your bare thigh, just below where your miniskirt started. And even that - even that, you could’ve survived with some unwanted heat in your panties. But no, the blue fucker jumped at one of the scenes, hand sliding up the inside of your thigh to accidentally drag your skirt up, his hand knocking against your warm core - hand rubbing up against your clothed clit as he pulled his hand away, and all you could do was pull your hand away from where it was sweetly brushing through Ashley’s hair like you used to do, straight to your face to hide the unbelievably needy whine you would’ve let out.

“you okay?” Ashley whispers softly, looking over to you and you just nod quickly, watching her go back to watching the movie before shooting Sal a venomous glance, which he avoids nervously, already feeling your stare of death shoot through the side of his head. You pierced your lips together, putting one leg over the other and squeezing your thighs firmly shut, Sal’s hand now comfortably resting much, much lower on your thigh. Practically on your calve, as he preferred not to die tonight. 

But that’s when it started, the unwanted slick already gently collecting in your panties, your mind running through all the things you wanted to do to him - what you wanted him to do to you. God, your mind was like a dog in heat. You couldn’t even bear to focus on the movie, sitting there, cautiously eyeing up your dead silent boyfriend. His shirt ridden up his stomach just oh-so-slightly from the way he was slouched back, soft happy trail of blue peeking out from under his shirt. God, what you would do to pull those stupid red torn up jeans down - not even fully - and ride him until he was shooting blanks and sobbing under you. 

That is how it went on for the rest of the movie. That is exactly how it went on when you all decided the sleeping plan. That is where your mind still was when you and Sal decided to take the pullout couch, Todd and Neil in Lisa’s old room, and Larry sleeping on his bed with Ashley on a cot on his floor. With the thinnest fucking walls known to man kind. You should know - you grew up with the same ones. 

Sal yawned as he laid next to you, mask placed softly on the table right beside the couch, as well as his glass eye floating in a cup, looking at you nervously as he pulled the covers up over himself too, gently wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him from behind, expecting you to be asleep by now - you were a heavy sleeper, he was an insomniac. It worked out like that. Until he heard a soft, half-whine of a whisper come from you. 

“S-sal..” you mumbled softly, pressing yourself back against him, causing him to let out a soft whine of his own, hand around your waist flinching ever so softly. “P-please baby, need you so bad..” you mumbled out softly, turning around to face him, seeing the needy tears in your eyes had him melting as well, piercing his lips together as he grips softly at your side.

“N-no, you know how thin these walls are - I’m sorry about earlier, but..” he says nervously as he watches you whine and writhe softly, pressing yourself up against him, one hand on his chest. That’s when you decide to make the move, grabbing his hand and moving to in-between your legs so he can feel how absolutely soaked through your panties are, causing him to experimentally run his fingers over them, biting down on his scarred lip so hard he’s concerned it might bleed. You can’t help a choked whine and a buck of your hips against his hand at that, looking up at him with those needy eyes. Fuck. 

He doesn’t say a word as he puts two shaky fingers to your lips, and you wrap your mouth around them without question, twirling your tongue around them and sucking on them like your life depended on it, all while he shakily pulled you panties to the side, prodding his fingers at your soaked hole, a quiet ‘fuck.’ Escaping his mouth when he slides one in with ease, feeling the vibrations around his fingers as you whine. “G-gotta be quiet, please - we h have to be quiet..” he mumbles out messily as he feels his cock throb to life in his sleep shorts, smearing precum across his thigh when he feels your cunt clench needily around his fingers.

He lets out a sigh of relief when you quickly nod at him, squeezing your eyes shut as he slowly starts to curl his long fingers inside of you, the obscene squealing noise making him whimper softly, hips accidentally bucking softly against your thigh as his cock tries to find some sort of friction - daydreaming about how easily he could slip inside you right now with how wet you are - how you would feel around his cock, velvety walks clenching around him and providing him that oh so delicious friction he was searching for. 

His thumb moves to gently circle your clit as you start to find a slow grinding rhythm against his hand, practically riding his fingers as he finds that delicious spongy spot on your walls and pushes his fingers up against it, causing your cunt to give another urgent and needy clench, more slick falling into his palm, making a mess as he tries his best not to whine himself.

The slippery sounds of friction, the feeling of your thigh twitching pressed up right against his own throbbing problem, or the way his fingertips are pressing up against the entrance to your throat, the way his other fingertips are pressed up against your velvety walls. It’s driving him beyond insane, to the point he’s thinking he might cum in his sleep shorts if it continues this way. And he didn’t bring an extra pair - and it would just be a waste if he didn’t cum inside of you - not while you were practically begging for it.  

“B-baby.” He whines out, catching your attention for a second, tears of pleasure falling softly down your face as your hips still, whining against his hand from the way you stopped while being so close - it was beyond downright embarrassing how quickly you were about to cum, and you were honestly glad he stopped you. “C-can i please put it in? J-just the tip, please baby, ‘s so sensitive. Need you so bad.” He whines quietly and softly, pressing his hard on against your thigh to back up his own statement, whining softly again. “Just wann’ cum inside you, please…” he whispers, watching you nod eagerly.

Pulling his fingers out of you with an obscenely wet pop, pulling your soaked panties to the side and he lets out an erotic sigh pressing his face into the crook of your neck as he pulled his shorts down, cock slapping to attention against his abdomen, precum beading from the sensitive tip as he shakily pulled your hips up, grabbing the base of his cock and gently rubbing it against your entrance, and you could hear how wet you were when he moved his tip to part your drenched lips and drag through them, whining into the crook of your neck as you grabbed his shoulders, brain fuzzy with the way his hot tip felt rubbing against your clit, sticky with your own slick. 

He bit down hard on your shoulder as his tip popped past the tight ring of muscles of your entrance, desperately rutting against you, trying not to whine or let slip how good it felt to be inside you - the way your hot, heady slick insides felt like they were trying to pull him in deeper. His hand cupped your mouth quickly, stopping you from making a sound as he gently pushed himself further inside you, feeling you grip tightly at his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as he broke his promise, pushing his cock inside of you, inch by desperate inch, trying not to slam his entire cock into you at once - which was unbelievably hard, considering how wet you were, and how desperate he was - his tip prodded at your cervix, making you jerk forward, groaning against the palm of his hand.

He rutted into you desperately, not daring to thrust properly, letting everyone else hear how wet and desperate you were, or even worse, how even needier he was for you, the head of his cock bumping against your sweet spot, the only sound in the air being the quiet sounds of your muffled whines, and the quiet rustling of sheets as he ground into you, abdomen rubbing against your clit as he did so, bringing you to the edge so much faster than you ever expected, cunt clenching around him, the sign that you were about to cum. He just nodded into the nape of your neck, hips refusing to stop. 

“m-me too, fuck, me too, me too ‘m gonna cum, ‘s too tight, ‘s so warm.” He half whines, half whispers right into your neck as he detaches his teeth from your shoulder for a second, before hurriedly latching them back onto your neck as you feel his cock violently twitch inside you, whining desperately into his hand as you felt yourself start to cum, cunt clenching around him desperately, slick flooding from you and creating an obscene squelching between you two as you spasmed and arched under him. 

He groaned into your neck as he quickly pulled his face from your neck, smashing his lips desperately against yours, muffling his own groans as he pushes himself as deep into you as he can go, cumming hot ropes into you as he stills, thighs twitching as he pulls his mouth from you, both of you panting and catching your breaths, feeling the warm liquid pool out of you and spill onto Sal’s abdomen as he lets out a small and raspy chuckle, still catching his breath.

 “You’re going to be the fucking death of me.” 

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Vampire Eddie Munson x Reader 🦇

Lil fic I wrote last night, will maybe turn this I to a full fic, idk.

Eddie adjusts to being a vampire, he also finds a rarity in the supernatural world. His soulmate. You.

Minors dni. 18+, implied smut. Soulmate au

I don't give anyone permission to copy, reuse or repost my work

❤️

Eddie tries to adjust to being a vampire as well as he can. The ability to turn into a bat isn't something he is jumping for joy about.

The little fuckers were the reason he was a vampire in the first place.

The fact he can't go out during the day takes effort in getting used to, no Hellfire or Band practice, sitting in a darkened room until the sun went down wasn't something he could just snap into.

The worst part of all was the cravings for blood, the first few weeks when he woke in that private government hospital, his throat parched and his insides aching with hunger he nearly tore the room apart to satisfy his cravings for blood.

The fact he was a vampire terrified him, at first he couldn't wrap his head around it. This was stuff of stories right?

Bad enough fucking one-dimensional monsters exist but vampires? It blew his mind.

Slowly through the help of blood bags he gained control over his cravings. Well, the use of blood bags and the ability to take blood from humans occasionally.

He'd use his power to make the humans dazed during the feeding, then forget straight after.

It wasn't exactly easy to explain to his friends and Uncle Wayne or Jim Hopper how he curbed his cravings.

They were having time adjusting to him being like this too. Not so much his little sheeples but Jeff and Gareth, they didn't understand why he could only see them at night.

One of the people who did understand was you and on a particular night, a rare night when his cravings were a little intense you had offered some of your blood to keep the bloodlust down.

Eddie had heard about vampires finding blood that tasted unlike any other, of vampires bonding with those they fed from.

It was a rarity but it happened. Eddie had been a vampire for a while now and hadent felt any of that yet.

Until he tasted your blood, until your hands tangled in his hair and little moans left your mouth.

It felt like he was in Nirvana or some shit, everything felt heightened, your body flush against him sent waves of pleasure coursing through him.

It was erotic and intense and Eddie found himself craving not only your blood but you.

He wanted to kiss and taste every inch of you

The first time your desire for each other over whelmed the both of you, Eddie had never came so hard his life, the way you clenched around him, sending spasms of pleasure through his cock.

The first time Eddie came, his eyes turned black and he sunk his teeth into your throat. You almost blacked out from how good the orgasm felt, how he was buried inside you balls deep and high on the taste of you.

It was just sex you both told yourself, sex and blood for Eddie... Yet Eddie grew protective over you, your feelings grew deeper.

The bond between you two deepened in a lot of ways, you could communicate telepathically.

Your emotions became intuned with each other, Eddie hated anybody hurting you or causing you upset.

Hated when others looked at you like you were a piece of meat, like they deserved to be in your presence. You were his and he had no problem with using his intimidating reputation to scare assholes away from you.

Well that and a flash of his fangs helped too ;)

You were his and he didn't like to share.

A vampire in love, it was poetic or some shit wasn't it? A rare twist of fate according to the research that Nancy did.

You were his mate, his soulmate and he was yours and he had no intention of ever letting you go.

💕

[voidendron]

Story Time

One-Shot, 2′327 Words Star Wars AU

(( the formatting got fucky and hard to read for mobile, can’t get it to fix itself, so reposting as a text post instead of answer in an attempt to get it to work.

set later than previous SW fics where they actually like. can stand each other. it ended up WAY longer than I anticipated, but So. Worth it. It was a lot of fun :D ))

Warnings: Alcohol, Drunkenness (mild), Swearing Characters: Chase Brody, Jackieboy Man, Jameson Jackson, Marvin the Magnificent, Dr. Schneeplestein, Septic Eye Sam

Chase had dropped off a pretty large shipment earlier, which left the cargo bay of his ship with plenty of room. With an empty crate acting as a makeshift table, they all sat around it, some with more distance between them than others. It had been Chase’s idea, because of course it had been.

Jackie was looking at his drink skeptically (probably wondering if Chase had come by it legally or not) while Sam pouted at the fact Marvin wouldn’t let them have any. …Which was funny considering that, while they were the youngest there, they were as much an adult as the rest of them. Jameson had waved off the offer, not wanting to remove his vocoder—vocabulator?—whatever it was; Chase had heard multiple names used for the things.

Chase might have been a little tipsy at that point and he could feel Schneep eyeing him. He was watching himself, though, and at least his astromech could pilot while he was unable.

“Anyway,” the Bothan said as he threw a hand up, “that’s how I accidentally pissed off a governor and got an assassin sent after me!”

Marvin made a noise akin to some sort of hissing laugh. “I think I’ve got more questions than I started with.”

“Yeah…” Jackie took a testing sip of his drink as he leaned back against an empty pallet. “What was that part about getting stuck in the wrong vent again?”

“Doesn’t matter—my time’s up! Who can one-up that?” Chase pulled his best rendition of a grin that he could with a snout full of sharp teeth.

“Eh, I’ll give it a shot.” Marvin adjusted his legs and patted his helmet to make sure it was still resting at his thigh. “This was back when Sami was a teenager, but… Heh. You remember that Acklay?”

The younger Mandalorian immediately perked up and started grinning. “You told that story for weeks after!”

“Hey, that’s where I earned my signet—‘course I’d keep telling it!”

“Acklay…” Jackie rubbed at his chin. “You mean those freaky six-legged buggers that try to spear ya?”

Marvin grinned; his feline fangs were even sharper than Chase’s and glinted in the light from overhead. “Oh, yeah. And those legs are sharp, dammit.” He traced a line over his breastplate up to his shoulder and added, “Got a nasty scar here from it, and proud of it!”

“So what about the Acklay?” Schneep actually…tilted his head a little. God was he expressive for a droid.

“All right. Let’s see if this one-ups Chase’s ship-crash of an experience, huh?” He took a swig of his drink, then settled back comfortably. “I did a lot of our clan’s supply runs—especially if it was into dangerous territory. I had to go to Felucia for some plant. Not a botanist, so don’t remember what it was or what it was used for, but whatever. We needed it and that’s all you need to know about that.

“So, I was searching for this plant, watching my back for dangerous fauna, and then I heard it.” He gnashed his teeth together, making poor Sami jump at the noise. “It was above me, on one of the…root-things all over the place. Just watching me. And the thing was huge. I’d only seen them from a distance until that point, but one good strike would’ve speared one of its legs straight through me.

“When it shifted, the entire root creaked under it. It must’ve been waiting there long before I got there ‘cause there was no way I wouldn’t have heard it walk up there.” He muttered something in Mando’a and chuckled to himself. “So I did what any impulsive Mandalorian would do and started shooting at it.”

Jameson startled Chase—as well as some of the others by the looks of it—when he suddenly piped in. He hadn’t expected the guy to actually listen enough to contribute. “Acklays have exoskeletons. A blaster such as you carry would do little.”

Marvin frowned a little at Jameson, but at least he wasn’t baring his teeth this time. For once? “Yeah. And I remembered that fact only when it lumbered off the damn root and nearly speared me under it.

“That was back before I got my jetpack, and carried a vibroblade instead of my electrostaff.” He patted said weapon where it laid next to him. “So I was stuck on the ground with somethin’ a whole lot faster than me, with more reach, and those fuckers are scary agile, too. I was alone with the only things I’d have a chance with being a few grenades and my blade.”

Jackie arched a brow. “…You say that like ‘a few’ grenades are just a casual thing.”

“Well, yeah. Mandalorians are usually armed to the teeth.”

“Fangs,” Chase corrected with a chuckle. “’Cause you’re a Cathar, so you’ve got fangs.”

Marvin just snorted. “Someone get him to bed—”

“—I’m not that drunk—!”

“—Anyway. So I’ve got this Acklay that’s way bigger than me trying to knock me over, spear me, chomp me, whatever it can. It broke some of my straps, so I was left without a breastplate or right pauldron, lost one of my blasters, I’m dragging my sash in my hands since that got cut, too, and I really wanted to keep my grenades with me, all while I’m trying not to let this thing make a meal of me and it’s screeching in my ear.

“So I’m trying to duck around plants and dive for areas it can’t fit, but it just plows through or destroys them to leave me floundering for a new spot. I can see my ship, but this thing’s driving me farther and farther from it, then I trip, and all I see is one of its legs poised to impale me. I roll, but it still catches me,” he traces the line on his chest again, “so now I’m bleeding, can’t move one arm, and this thing reaches down to chomp me, catches my other pauldron instead and pulls it off so I scramble to my feet.

“I’m covered in mud and pollen and my own blood, my visor’s so filthy I can barely see. I pull a grenade off my sash and activate it, ‘cause at that point I’m thinking I’m about to die and I’m desperate. So I throw the fucker, and the Acklay snatches it out of the air and swallows it.

“Boom. I watched the thing get blown apart, grabbed my stuff and the plant after looking around for it again, and beelined it for my ship.”

Sam shook their head and grinned. “When he got back to camp he was a mess. He was dragging the armor that was pulled off by its straps and had his arm against his chest. His collar bone had been broken and he didn’t even sling his arm! The medical droid scolded him so bad. And the first thing he does? Pull off his helmet, grin a huge grin, and give the plant to our leader all proud of himself!”

“Hey, I had a right to be proud!” Marvin turned to show the marks on his pauldron; sure enough, it was an Acklay head. “That’s how I earned my signet!”

“…Damn.” Chase shook his head. “I’ve heard those things can kill groups of trained soldiers if they’re caught off guard.”

“Impressive,” Schneep agreed. “Very impressive!”

“So. Anyone wanna one-up that?” the Cathar challenged.

Jackie shook his head. “I thought I had a story. No way it tops that.”

“Let’s hear it anyway!” Chase said.

“Yes, please,” the droid agreed.

“Eh. Well.” He rubbed the back of his head. In the dimmed light of the cargo bay, it was almost eerie the way his red eyes glowed as he cast them around the room. “I was in my Y-Wing when Vader joined a battle?”

Chase choked on his drink and was left coughing for a solid thirty seconds. “You survived an encounter with him?!”

“I spotted his TIE from a distance, but it didn’t really…register? that it looked a little different from the rest? Soon as my squad leader saw it, I swear I was gonna go deaf. She flipped. Out. Ordering the squad to retreat immediately. It was right about then that a star destroyer came outta hyperspace.

“We knew that was it. We didn’t have a chance of winning that battle, so we fell back in the hopes of not losing multiple squads.” Jackie frowned. “Half my squad was killed—all good men, friends—when Vader showed up. Pretty sure he’s the one who got to ‘em. I’d never been so terrified.  Heh. And I never even got close to it—just saw it on the other side of the battle. Even now, I don’t think anything’s scared me so damn bad as seein’ that one TIE.

“I wouldn’t fly for days after that, and none of us would shut up about seeing it. We didn’t win that battle, but surviving that sorta encounter at least deserves some bragging rights. Right?”

“Wow!” Sam leaned forward, hands on their knees. “I’ve only ever heard stories of him, but that sounds scary!” They were…grinning, as they said it. Of course they were, Chase thought with a chuckle. He swore those two Mandalorians were addicted to danger. Maybe he was a little, too, but hey.

“Okay, we’ve got a game goin’ now,” Jackie said. “Someone’s gotta go next.”

Schneep shuffled awkwardly, then offered, “I was stolen by pirates?”

“Hey, now.” The Chiss frowned despite the story he’d just told. “We rescued you. Can’t hold that over our heads forever.”

“Oh, no, no!” He put up his hands, shook his head. “You saved me from the third time! But I’ve been stolen before.”

“…Third time?”

“By pirates, yes.”

“That implies you’ve been stolen by things other than pirates, too,” Marvin muttered with a huffed laugh.

“Dude,” Chase grinned, “you’ve got tell us about the first time. Or second—whichever’s more interesting. Please?”

The arms set into Schneep’s back for more fine-tuned work shifted and clattered and his eyes brightened a bit. Maybe he couldn’t make facial expressions, but he had other ways of showing how he felt. It was frankly adorable how expressive he actually was.

“This happened during the Clone Wars. I was a Republic medical droid—”

“I…had forgotten how old you were,” Jameson said.

Jackie scoffed. “You forgot something? You’ve got like. A literal computer attached to your head.”

“It didn’t seem like important information, so I disregarded it.”

“Guys,” Chase scolded, “don’t interrupt him.”

His extra arms fidgeted even as he tried to remain still. “I had been stationed at a small outpost to tend to the Clones there. It was too small and not well-defended—in a very bad location, as well. Very bad planning overall. That is what I was told. Pirates were able to overwhelm it.

“They took hostages, stole the droids and supplies, and fled back to their ship before reinforcements arrived.” He put his hands on his hips like he was disappointed, but also chuckled. “They tried to short me out! But they shocked themselves instead—is very funny to remember. They cursed and jumped around while their little machine zipped and zapped. The astromechs they stole found it hilarious and would not stop chittering!”

Chase laughed. That seemed to make Schneep a little more confident—he wasn’t used to talking so much about himself, it was clear, but the Bothan hoped he would start loosening up like this more often.

“The pirates were incompetent. They overwhelmed the outpost with sheer number and firepower, but I swear, far dumber than a battle droid. The Clones complimented one with insults—right to his face!—and he took it as genuine!

“They floundered around each other like the fish out of water! One accidentally released one of the Clones and the poor man was so confused that he just sat there waiting to be cuffed again, and another nearly shot his buddy while cleaning a blaster and having it go off. It was maddening! They wanted to sell us droids and ransom the Clones, but the truly frustrating part was watching them all be the idiots! I do not even think we were worried for our own well-being they were so nonsensical!”

Most of them were laughing, now. Even Jameson had his head tilted like he just couldn’t make sense of pirates. One of the lights on his AJ^6 was even blinking very, very slowly.

“Dude.” It took Chase a couple tries to actually get any proper words out through snickers, “I’m actually afraid of the answer, but… How badly did you embarrass them to get away?”

The droid cupped his hands over his face and laughed again. “The Clones tricked them into undoing their binds, but they were still locked in the cell. So the astromechs—they ambushed a pirate and stole the key from him!”

“Oh, god. Did they not know how freaking feisty mechs can be?! You don’t tick them off—‘specially not a group of ‘em!”

“Apparently not! They zipped and zapped and pinched until they got the key and released the Clones, and then they took over the ship! The pirates were locked out of the cockpit and the mechs found us the nearest Republic fleet. We all had such a hard time believing it actually happened—and no one would believe us! They could not believe someone could possibly be that incompetent!”

Sami looked like they were having a hard time breathing they were laughing so hard, and both Jackie and Marvin had covered their faces.

“…I think Schneep wins for most entertaining story,” Chase suggested. The others only nodded. “Unless Jameson..?”

“I have nothing interesting to tell.”

“…Oh-kay. Our dear droid with the freakin’ comedy gold of dumb pirate stories wins.”

Schneep clasped his hands together, something in his chest chirping.

[vee-angel]

Talynn’s Edge (Part 2)

(Just reposted the first part of this story with the corresponding illustration. This section will have a pretty significant amount of blood and violence, both sexual and non-sexual. And just an FYI, this part is not a stand-alone story by any means. If you want to understand what’s going on, I recommend reading the first part, and if you want to understand what’s going on well, I recommend reading the first part, and watching “Sonnie’s Edge” from the Love, Death + Robots anthology series on Netflix. If you want to completely understand, than do all that, and also read the short story by Peter F. Hamilton.)

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

Something was different about the vibes tonight. Me and the rest of Sonnie’s Predators had seen plenty of fight nights, but this was the fight night. Khanivore vs. Hellcat. Me vs…. her.

Seems like a pair of woman beastie baiters going head to head was a bigger draw than I’d thought. Traffic is shit in the cities anyway, but the sludge of vehicles and bodies round the arena made it so the old twenty-wheeler’s cab had to slog inch by inch before we could unload Khanivore’s pod.

Hadn’t seen Talynn since that night months ago in the shitty spunk-stained hotel room. Fight promoters had set everything up. Closest thing we’d got to talking was signing the same fight contract. Still, she’d been in my head more than I’d have liked.

I felt ready, though. Near half a thousand dead rabbits made sure of that. Gotten to the point Khanivore had the muscle memory to spear a frantic hare running full clip near a hundred-percent of the time. Her bone-blade tentacles should make quick work of Hellcat even with its ungodly speed.

Wondered if Talynn still remembered the agreement we made that night. Winner gets to have their way with the loser. Ain’t exactly any way I’d have to pay up if I lose, but if I win, I wouldn’t mind a good shag. Honestly, I’d got a bit obsessive as of late, and needed the release.

I’d scouted the set-up a couple weeks before. Arena was bigger than the last one, but same basic set-up. Fight-pit dropped into the floor with rows and rows of people packed like sardines. Pit was the biggest one I’d seen so far, made room to maneuver, also meant her beastie had room to pick up speed.

After we finally got unloaded and took care of pre-fight business, we waited for the ring-master to start talking me up so I could make my entrance. Heard the clamor of the crowd before taking a step out into the open with Wes and Ivrina on either side. The Sonnie’s Predators fans jumped to their feet and went wild. My fans, I was the one putting it all on the line after all. God it felt good. I was the champion, and I wasn’t about to let some yankee cunt take that away from me.

Announcer kept on with peppy hyperbolic fanfare as I settled down in my signature zen pose at the edge of the pit. They could pretend they was excited because we were both undefeated, but really it was just that both pilots had tits for the first time.

Finally saw Talynn walking out from the other side of the arena. My heart beat a little faster and I couldn’t tell if it was because I still fancied her a bit or because the psychotic twat scared me a little. Honestly, probably a bit of both.

“Fuckin’ Hell, do you suppose that’s real?” Wes asked

“Fake stuff don’t clot like that.” Ivrina said back.

For half a second I wasn’t sure what they was talking about. Then I saw it. I mistook her for wearin that same shiny red skin-suit I’d seen her in last time, but it wasn’t that. It was blood.

Fuckin’ perfect outfit to intimidate, I figure. Ain’t nothing gonna scare the shit out of somebody quite like walking out naked smeared with gore. Her face was different, too. No babydoll grin, just this death scowl pointed right in my direction. Whole affair gave her this look like some kinda Aztek deity you could summon if you knifed out enough living people’s hearts as tribute.

She was taking this one serious, I figure. Ain’t no point in going the whole nine to intimidate unless you’re scared yourself. She didn’t think this up last minute.  Maybe over this last stretch this fight had been running through my head more times than it ought to, but now I knew. I’d gotten into her brain-space, too.

“You ready, Sonnie?” Ivrina’s voice came real gentle from the side. She didn’t want to fuck my concentration. I didn’t even look at her or Wes, just gave a quick nod staring straight ahead. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

“A’right, booting the Affinity Link… Now.”

There was a brief flash where I was falling through a thick ocean of pitch black, but my brain did quick work making sense of the sensorium coming through my body... Khanivore’s body. My eyes opened to the sight of the pod freshly opened and I stepped out on freakish strong thighs.

I heard the announcer saying my name and dashed out into the fight-pit. I moved quick, but not too quick. Didn’t want to telegraph how fast I’d become.

Hellcat got announced then. The black beast stalked out slow and confident-like. Didn’t make any fancy display like the first time I saw. She wanted to save all its energy for ripping limb from limb and then fucking the dead, bloody stumps.

This is when fear kicked in; locked in a pit with nothing between me and this prickly murderbeast that wanted nothing more than to kill me. This is when it got real. My survival instincts start screaming at me and I became primality incarnate. My body tensed, bone blades poised to strike, legs ready to dodge. This was it.

The fight lights went on.  

Nothing.

Hellcat stared, quiet menace rising off it like smoke. Didn’t strike, didn’t lunge.

It started to move, real slow like. Tense steps around the edge of the pit like it was circling prey. I did the same; wasn’t about to let it flank me. I couldn’t let my guard down. I’d seen how fast it was. Talynn wasn’t going to let me survive a mis-step.

We’d gone around a full three-sixty with careful slow steps, staring one another down. The crowd had gone quiet, too; just waiting. Was this her strategy? Wear out my patience, wait for a mistake? A reckless move? Not gonna happen. She can take as many moments as she likes, and I’ll savor every one. Because if I fuck up, I won’t be having any moments ever again.

I kept my nerves steady, If anyone was going to be reckless it’d be her. . . and she was. She kept on going round, but she was moving farther from the edge. She had her eyes locked on and couldn’t help but get closer. She may have been fast, but I still had murderous tentacular range. The spiny hyaenodon was inching dangerous close to the point where I could hit it before it could attack me.

Few more steps and the fucker’d be just within my attack radius. Decided to let it get a hair closer just to make sure…

By the time the crowd gasped, I had two bone-tipped tentacles buried near half a meter into the side of Hellcat’s neck. With two more vipering straight into a spot behind its shoulder.

Couldn’t have been more than a third of a second it took to get all four blades embedded in its flesh, and I wasn’t lettin go easy.

Turns out Hellcat didn’t plan on letting go either. Fuckin beastie rolled toward me, wrapping my tendril arms around itself and aerating them with hundreds of jagged porcupine quills. It near pulled itself close enough to start ripping and gashing with claws and teeth when I whipped it across the pit with a sickening velcro sound of spines ripping out of its back.

Hellcat hit the wall hard but made a quick recovery. Blood from its wounds had already stopped flowing. It felt like it left a couple of kilos worth of needles in each one of my bone-blade tentacle arms. That was going to slow me down. I shouldn’t have thrown it; I’d panicked. Fuck!

The beastie gathered its footing then rocketed straight across the pit. I tried spearing it, but I was too slow with the shredded muscles. I felt those diamond hard shark teeth clamp into my thigh and rip through a chunk of armor and flesh before dodging back to the far side of the pit.

I’d seen this before when it fought Minogore. Now that Talynn had relieved me of my best weapon, it was back to typical strategy. Hellcat was going to rip off little bits of me until there was too little left to fight back when it went in for the kill. Shit!!

I wasn’t gonna go out that way, couldn’t let it happen. Had to stay calm, strategize. Hellcat was digging in its feet for another rush. Just as it took off I speared the floor between me and it. The appendages might have been too slow to attack, but I could use them as a barrier. And stuck full of needles as they were, they’d be too nasty to bite through. Hellcat veered off and spun around looking damn near offended that I wouldn’t just lay down and die.

I stayed low and kept on with the same strategy. I was fighting defensive now, putting thorny tentacle arms between me and the beastie every time it lunged. A couple cycles in of this and I learned I could direct the fucker left or right as I pleased. Started using this to my advantage and swiped off a good few chunks of its back legs with clawed fingers.

For a minute I thought I was getting the upper hand, but then the little beastie got around the tentacular cage I’d been keeping myself in and nipped off a good bit of shin. Told myself I wouldn’t let it happen again. But then... it did happen again. And again. And again.

What the fuck was going on! I had a good strategy, but then it seemed like Hellcat somehow managed to get even faster. I got this sick feeling when it dawned on me. It wasn’t faster… I was slower. Why!? Khanivore had enough oxygenated blood to fight for an hour at least. It wasn’t near that long, yet. I’d barely lost a drop of blood. There was no goddamn reason I should be fatiguing just now! Did the team miss something after the last fight? Did Wes or Ivrina fuck something up in Khanivore’s pod?!?

Not now, survive first, kick their arses later. It wasn’t time for thinking or clever strategies no more. This was time to not die; to go for full berzerk primality!

Enemy was readying its footing for a death-blow. My thoughts had all collapsed into a single brutal directive: Kill.

Hellcat lunged, I lunged straight back at it. Clawed fingers shoved straight down its gullet as I tackled the fucker to the ground. Serrated shark teeth crunched my right hand straight off while my left was carving out its eye. I yanked the mutilated limb from its maw and put the beastie in a headlock with the stump. I felt every remaining spine it had digging into my guts, but I didn’t give the tiniest fuck. I was going to rip this cunt apart!

The beast thrashed about as the claws of my left hand ripped through its gut, yanking out bones and ribs before frantically scooping out every bit of meat and organ I could reach at through its soft underbelly. It kept thrashing about in a panic way longer than most, a testament to Talynn’s bioengineering prowess. But I could feel the life draining on account of my savage evisceration.

I had won. Hellcat was dying.

I dropped the scooped-out fiend to the floor of the pit to let it make it’s death-rattle before finally going limp.

I heard Talynn shriek as her Affinity link to Hellcat died. The blood-clad beauty wasn’t intimidating anymore. I saw her eyes filled with terror and hands shaking as she rushed forward. Look on her face actually made me feel bad for her.

The girl actually continued forward, making this panicked climb into the fight pit. Just kept repeating, “No, no, no, please no.” in this hysterical, teary voice. The drop into the pit was a good three meters, even from hanging. Looked like she cracked an ankle the way she limped over to Hellcat’s side.

She went prostrate next to her dead monster, face a mess of tears and snot, and started doing these great big heaving sobs as she laid her hand on its face. Whole thing was fucking tragic.

I had just enough strength to raise a bloodied arm in triumph, but the crowd wasn’t quite as thrilled as it should have been. The bloody crying girl really fucked the vibe. Couldn’t worry about it now; Khanivore needed to get back to her pod, and fast.

I hobbled back down the corridor on half-eaten legs and felt a relief when the pod sealed. Now that I was animating a human body again, I could appreciate the fight I’d just had and won. There was times I worried I was over-preparing for this one bought, but now I knew she was everything I was expecting her to be. Talynn was batshit, but fucking brilliant as a baiter.

I remembered our deal about winner fucks the loser, but by the look on her face out there, figured I ought to give her some time. I headed backstage and we opened up a nice expensive bottle we got just for this particular win. Had a toast to no more fucking rabbit stew.

Then something happened. Wes poured a shot and slid it over to me, but the glass shattered on the floor before I’d even raised my hand to catch it. It was the same feeling I’d had out in the pit…. I was getting slower. Wasn’t a problem with Khanivore’s body… problem was the brain inside it.

“Somethin’s wrong.” I told them. “It was like this out in the pit. My reflexes was getting slower right near the end. Still getting slower now. She did something to Khanivore, something that’s fucking up my brain.”

The team rushed to the pod. Wes hooked up the interface and checked some measurements and data I didn’t quite understand. Started looking real panicked. Came back to tell us something about something was wrong with the nervous system.

“Cheatin’ fucking cunt.” Ivrina said. “I’ll bet her beastie’s got some kinda neurotoxin on those goddamn spines.”

“And Khanivore ain’t got no filter organs; the pod can do the basic stuff but it wasn’t meant to contend with poison.” I was pissed off. Talynn meant to kill my beastie even though she’d lost. Only she didn’t know it was my brain inside of her. I pounded a fist on Khanivore’s pod. “She’s gonna tell me how to fix this, even if I have to beat it out of her.” I stormed out headin straight for the opposing team’s green room. The team called something after me about saying they was going to keep trying to see what they could do. They seemed shaken. I couldn’t blame them. I was too.

Made my way through the under-halls to the sound of spectators filing out above me, eventually burst in on Talynn sitting in the dark staring at the empty pod, knees hugged up to her chest.

“Talynn,” she cringed a bit hearing my voice, but didn’t turn around. Seeing her look so defeated drained the anger right out of me. Probably a good thing, too. I had to speak gentle. Ten seconds ago, I’d planned to go all fire and intimidation, but antagonizing her wouldn’t do any good. “Hey… I’m sorry about your beastie, but I got to talk to you. Something’s wrong with Khanivore, she’s still dying even in the pod. We got to thinking it might of been your Hellcat. Those spines got poison on ‘em, don’t they?”

There was a long pause, “Venom.” Talynn corrected in this little sotto voice.

“Yeah, all right. Go to admit, I never would have thought to do that.” I felt like a damn hostage negotiator, and come to think of it, I kinda was, “But the fight’s over now, so I need you to fix it. Give me the antidote or tell me what I got to do so Khanivore doesn’t die.”

“Why the fuck should I?” Talynn snarled all sudden-like, finally turning to face me. She stood, limping forward angrily and got right up in front of me. Olfactory presence almost made me wretch; drenched in rotted blood made her smell like a mass grave. “Hellcat died! You killed her! Why shouldn’t you have to watch your own precious Khanivore fade away?? Maybe then you can know what you did to me!”

“I won’t know anything! I’ll be fuckin’ dead!” I paused to steady myself. Talynn gave this narrowed eyed look of suspicious incomprehension. Fuck, I had to tell her. “I ain’t in here, not anymore.” I poked a finger aggressive at my temple, “This body’s just animated by a bioware processor stuck on top of a spine. My real brain’s getting rotted away by your fuckin venom right now. If Khanivore dies, I die.”

Talynn took a step back in stupefaction. She just stared for a moment like she was trying to figure out whether to take me serious or not. I didn’t even see her hand reach back to grab the three kilo wrench that’d been set down next to the pod. Not until she whipped it around and cracked open the side of my head with it.

“Fuckin’ hell!!!” My hand went to my temple, which was several centimeters sunken in now. For a second, my thoughts flashed that she was crazy, then I realized why she’d done it. If I was lying, she figured I deserved to be killed, and if I wasn’t, she wanted proof.

I guessed that one side of my skull looked like a Jack-O-Lantern left out ‘til July, so the fact that I was still standing there glaring at her should be proof enough that there wasn’t anything neurologically essential inside my skull.

Talynn looked wide eyed for a moment, “You’re… that’s fucking insane.” was all she said. Thought I saw a flash of a smile for a second as she turned around and rushed toward a big trunk. Yanked out a big handful of hypodermic syringes full up with some amber liquid. She handed some of them to me. “Three should be enough for Khanivore. I need to keep a couple as a backup in case one of my team pricks themselves while they’re...” she just trailed off, not wanting to say ‘handling Hellcat’s corpse.’

I rushed back without a word, and near crashed into Ivrina halfway. She came to look for me, worried that I’d collapsed or something. And honestly, I was feeling like my ability to control equilibrium was fading fast. I ended up handing the syringes to her while she told me just sit down on this grimy wooden bench in the hall.

My heart was pounding, for the next few minutes I sat there doing mental exercises and seeing how well I could touch my fingers to one another. Not that well, it was seeming. But after about ten minutes, my thoughts seemed to settle down, I felt like my brain was doing a proper job animating my body through Affinity again. The antidote worked.

For a while I sat there thinking about what if Talynn was right about me being the crazy one. She at least had the good sense not to get into the pit herself; except she did just that after her beastie died. Maybe the two of us were psychotic. Maybe that’s how come I didn’t feel mad at her no more. I didn’t just fancy her cuz she was pretty, maybe I like that she’s the only one I’d met who’s just as fuckin’ mental as I was.

Barely noticed the man walking up on me until he’d sat on the rotted wooden bench next to me. I recognized him as one of Talynn’s crew, older than the rest. Had this way about him like he was some detective from a noir style American film. Tough as nails type who’s been too jaded to care about rules no more.

I pulled my hood farther to hide the shattered skull, but he didn’t look in my direction, just stared straight ahead as he lit up a cigarette and started talking at me.

“I want to tell you a story.” His voice was deep and dark, full of gravel and gravitas. “Once upon a time there was a little girl named Tara-Lynn. She ended up in the care of the state at a young age. Parents abandoned her, or maybe they got themselves killed. Doesn’t really matter.” He paused to take a draw at the crackling ciggie.

“One day a couple comes along and decides that they’d like little Tara-Lynn to join their happy little family.” he continues, “Except she finds out it’s not so happy. Her new mommy and daddy expect her to pay back the adoption fees with interest. What’s little Tara-Lynn to do? Well… mommy and daddy thought of that, too. It seems they knew some men who’d pay them a lot of money for some time with little Tara-Lynn. You know the type of things men pay to do with little girls?” he paused to take another drag, “Yeah, I hear you know a little about that.”

Sitting there listening, I felt a sick bit of bile boiling up in my gut. Felt like I should say something, but he kept on before I had a chance.

“Story doesn’t end there. One night the police were called to Tara-Lynn’s house after a neighbor complained about a smell like a dead animal coming from the premises. Cops got inside to find mommy and daddy stabbed to death in their bed and little Tara-Lynn still clutching a bloody kitchen knife. Dried blood caked onto her pink pajamas. “Little girl went into custody, mommy and daddy went to the morgue. She said she didn’t do it, and for a while, they believed her. Medical examiner said there was no way a ten-year-old could have committed such a beastly crime. They were stabbed so many times, he stopped counting wounds after two hundred… each. “When they asked little Tara-Lynn what happened, she told them that an angel had come to rescue her. An angel named Talynn. After a few months visiting with a shrink, they finally got it figured out. She told them what they were doing to her, and she got a diagnosis. Split personality.”

“Jesus fuck...” the words came from my mouth an awed whisper.

“Talynn,” he ploughed on, “isn’t a person. And she’s definitely no angel. Closer to a demon. And demons don’t just sit quietly and wait when there’s nothing to do. Tara-Lynn may have escaped mommy and daddy, but she ended up with a new monster; one that lives inside of her.”

My mind flashed back to that night with her naked body across the motel room mattress. I remembered seeing all the scars that looked self-inflicted. It made sense now, Talynn had been hurting her. Wheels in my head turned, before things finally clicked into place, “That’s why she does it, then” I interrupt the man before he has a chance to keep talking, “She had a beastie livin’ in her head her whole life, then finds out she can just custom make a suit for the monster inside, then stick it in a pit an’ let it do what it does best.”

Man took a final puff on the cancer stick then stood up to snuff it under a cracked leather boot. “Except you killed the suit, broke the cage. And now the monster is pissed off.”

I took his meaning that he was frightened that with Hellcat dead, Talynn’s demon was going to go back to hurting her to get its jollies. Maybe even hurting others. “Ay!” I called after him as he started walking away, “the fuck you want me to do about it?”

* * *

I spent half a week giving the situation a good thinking over before I got around to calling Talynn. Normally I wouldn’t give a rat-shit about anybody, but something bout her story made me want to be helpful like. Maybe it was because I felt responsible on account of I killed her beastie. Maybe it was because she’d really been raped and brutalized while I was going round lying about it. Maybe I was just randy for her, I don’t fuckin’ know.

Anyway, I’d come up with this plan, right? If Talynn had this demon living in her head that might end up on a killer rampage unless it had somewhere to focus its hate, I was gonna give it something to focus on. A bit of tough love is what she needed, I figure.  

I rang her up, half expecting her to back out of the arrangement we had, due to I would have been dead if she’d won. She sounded downtrodden still, but also seemed eager for a bit of distraction and self-destruction.

I had her show up at the shit-hole warehouse that served as the home-base for Sonnie’s Predators. A good half the team lived there, but I threw them a few quid and told them to find someplace else to be for the night.

Khanivore was in her pod at the far side of the big room. She wasn’t terribly visible, since I’d turned out all the lights except for the big one over the training ring that clicks on with a big, dramatic snap. The circle we had laid out in the middle was roughly the size of a fight-pit, and used primarily for training and testing. Could still get a whiff of old rabbit’s blood if you was paying attention. Outside the ring was a few bits of machinery, but mostly some big crates filled with jugs of intravenous nutrient juice, and a few tanks of preservative fluid for when she needs her pod re-filled with fresh stuff. There was one big box with biohazard stickers all over it that had Khanivore’s excreta inside it.

I paced around a bit, half nervous, half excited. Then I hear a knock at the big metal door. I click the button that loudly rattles the huge metal warehouse door up. I see Talynn standing there; she hadn’t bothered to dress up for our ‘date’ by the look of it. She had this ragged sweater on, and even defeated as she looked, there was still a spark of fire in her eyes. She stepped inside and I clicked the door motors to put the door closed again.

“Welcome to the HQ.” I said with a flourish of my arms that was maybe I bit more smug than it had to be. Her eyes stayed locked on me.

“If you’re going to fuck me, just get on with it.” she said. I could tell it was Tara-Lynn speaking. The voice was little, and a bit scared. It wasn’t the big, bad beastie that lived in her head.

“I got a question for you.” she didn’t react. “When I made that deal with you. About the winner gets to have their way with the loser. Which one of you was I talking to?” ‘

Her face flashed a snarl for just a moment when she realized somebody told me about her bisected psyche. She took a few seconds to turn it over in her mind, “What’s it matter?”

“Matters ‘cuz I think that big, bad Talynn made a bet, and is here expecting little Tara-Lynn to pay up since she lost. So I got a new idea.” I toss her over a pair of those old fighting gloves they used in caged MMA matches. “Double or nothing. You and me, nothing lab-grown. If I win, I get to have my way with Talynn. I ain’t got no interest in bullying a crying, little victim; but a hard bitch who carves up pedos… that’s something that’ll hold my interest.”

She looked down at the floor, worried like. Then in an instant all the worry drained away and these inferno-hot eyes shot up to meet with mine. “And if I win, you’ll submit to me?” She growled the words as she stalked forward at me with these slow, menacing panther steps. A little grin formed at the side of my mouth as I saw the beast I faced in the pit a few days ago appear in front of me in human form.

“That’s the way of it, yeah.” The night was lookin like it’d shape up to be my own private carnival of depravity.

A few rips of velco had our fighting gloves on. I popped off my shoes so I was down to just the threadbare wife-beater and my capris. Talynn had a few more layers to get down to an appropriate amount of covering. Yank wasn’t acclimated to the London chill.

It’d been a good few years since I’d been in a proper scrap using the body I was in now. Last time was in my teen years when this little twat and her friend jumped me calling me a slut and saying I’d fucked her boyfriend. Had her in a solid ground-and-pound position when the friend glassed me in the side of the head with a bottle she’d hidden in her backpack. Probably still have the scar on my cheek from it, but nowadays it’s blended in with the mess of mutilation my face has become.

Talynn steps inside the taped off area that served as our make-shift pit. She starts circling real careful the way she did in her beastie form. I wasn’t having none of that bullshit, so I charge straight in stabbing and elbow into her left tit. She tries to grab on but loses her balance.

She’s on the ground and I start putting some kicks on her. One of her lips splits open pretty good before she sinks her teeth into one of my toes with this feral little-girl growl. I can’t get it dislodged even when she starts coiling the rest of her limbs around my leg. A couple good jerks and thrashes got me off my feet crashing onto the cement. She twists around and drives her heel straight up into my cunt a couple times.

Don’t rightly know how, but somehow I grappled her around until I had her under me, face down. That hair-glue she puts in her mohawk let me get a good grip on it even though there wasn’t much to grab. I said to her that she better admit defeat or I’d bash her face right open here and now on the rock floor. She says “Eat shit” and I bash her face a couple times so as to let her know I ain’t joking. She gets angry-quiet and doesn’t say anything for a while. Too long for my liking so I collide her face with the cement once more. Finally she admits that I’d won.

I take a minute to catch my breath. This fight went quick but I had to admit that Talynn had this brutal ferality that got me good and randy. She kept glaring at me as I chained her wrists strappado style up to this overhead winch that ran on a track the length of the warehouse. I gave her enough slack that she could kneel down without her shoulders coming dislocated, but not much more than that.  

I fade into the shade round the edges of the room for a minute to grab some of what I’d gathered in pre-planning. I stuck a good sharp straight razor in my pocket and picked up this novelty camera I’d gotten a few years back. It was supposed to look like one of them old nineteen hundreds ones that print out the pictures as you take them.  

I clicked off a few piccies and tossed the print-outs on the floor in front of her. Her face looked venomous at me as she realized her private humiliation was gonna be saved for posterity. I hang the insta-camera from my belt and got to work with the razor. I made a real show of turning her outfit into garbage.

I take a few more images of her naked body, making sure to get some real nice close ups of the intimate bits. Then I got to examining her real close, like she was a piece of meat. I figured neither of us put any time limit on things, so I didn’t have no need to be expedient.

Talynn didn’t resist, but she wasn’t really cooperating neither. Took a solid kick in the calf-meat to get her to put her legs apart. “You’re 0 for 2, beastie.” I whisper to her as I stand behind her and run my fingers from her cunt up over her arsehole.

“Ain’t so tough without a half-tonne of claws and teeth to slip in to, yeah?” She stood still just glaring off into the distance. I got up real close behind her and yanked her arse back against my hips. Put my arm around her waist and bend forward real close, so I was talking into her ear. “Tell me what it felt like when I was ripping your guts out.” Her teeth clenched so hard, I’m surprised she didn’t crack one.

“Staying quiet, eh? Maybe you need a reminder.” I put her in a headlock just the way I did in the ring, shoulders twisted to just near popping. I press the straight edge to her chest and slide it down between her tits, just hard enough to let out some drops of ruby red, but not so deep that she’d need more than a few stitches to patch her up. Carved a ragged line almost all the way down to her cunt hair.  

I hold her close as I whip out the insta-cam and flash a pic of us cheek to cheek. I see she’s got this look of sick disbelief in her eyes. The polaroid falls to the floor to stain with the drippies of blood slowly hanging out her torso.

I walk around real slow to get right in front of her. Her eyes was all fury and fear and fuck-yous. “You still with me, beastie?” I asked her. The carnal hate was my answer, it was still Talynn I was talking to. “Good, wouldn’t want you to miss anything.” I took her chin in my hand and hold up the straight-edge, “You remember the night we met? When you said about my scars that they was ‘love-letters written in flesh’ and asked if I get wet when I look at them. I’ll give you a chance to find out yourself.” I leaned in to kiss her lips real gentle, then I pulled back just far enough that I could see her eyes as I gashed one half of a Chelsea smile into the meat of her cheek. She started whimpering and her eyes filled up before angry tears started streaming down and mixing in with the blood.

I kept hold of her chin as I sliced the other cheek to match, a big red grin carved from the edges of her mouth more than halfway to her ears. I had this twinge of guilt, chopping up her face the way I was. Maybe I was going too far; then again, scars didn’t need to be permanent these days. Hell, I couldn’t go half a week without some twat telling me about a plastic surgeon that could make my face baby-smooth with the newest laser treatment. This bitch could afford it, anyway.

That was the agreement anyway, right? I won, so I get to do whatever gets my jollies. And seeing her here, helpless, crying, bleeding; fuck that gets me off. Best to keep going then.

A sort of artistry took over me, I didn’t want to randomly slice her up like some street-tough. I took my time; smooth, clean incisions all across her skin. Pretty red lines organized aesthetically across her light-tan flesh. I got caught up in myself, and all her screaming and crying turned into background noise, couldn’t even have guessed how much time had passed.

I finally came back to my senses when I took a step back to admire. I caught Talynn’s eye and slowly felt the reality that my canvas was a living person who’d been suffering the torments of Hell this whole time. Something about this felt like being in the fight pit again, yet different. Smell of blood, struggle of mortal fear, but this was quieter, meditative; almost loving in a way. I’d always been the fury and fire type, but I was beginning to see why serial killers who snatched women off the street and take them out slow did it that way. Except Talynn would be walking away tonight.

I almost forgot to take a few more pictures. She was dripping with so much blood, it brought me back to the way she walked out on fight-night. Except she wasn't full of menace any longer. She just looked… pathetic, defeated. Couldn’t let what little sliver of conscience I had left get in the way of the job I had to do. That beastie in her head needed a purpose, prey to obsess on; I was gonna make sure that was me.

“I’m… sorry.”

It came out in this little mouse voice that was so small I wasn’t sure if I’d heard anything. “You say something?” I shot back at her.

“I’m sorry!” She heaved it out through weepy sighs. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry, please just let me go. You win! You’re better than me! I’ve learned my lesson!”

I just stare at her for a good long second. “That what you think this is? I’m teaching you a lesson on account of I’m just a cunt who doesn’t like to be challenged?” She looked confused and fearful, I give her this real arrogant grin back. “Nah, it’s just the opposite, mate. I want you coming for me. See, I been winning so many times in a row now that I’m starting to lose the fear.” I get real up to her face and whisper the next bit, “I can’t have that, beastie. Fear is what gives me my edge. You gave it back to me fresh in our battle… I ain’t ready to let that go yet.”

She hung there from her wrists, heaving and wheezing and bloodied. Then all of a sudden she got grave-quiet, her head raised up to face me. Her gaze impacted me in a way that made my skin to ice. There was that babydoll grin again, “I should have known I couldn’t manipulate you. You’re just like me, aren’t you?” Her voice was rock-steady and psychopath calm, “That’s why it has to be me. I have to be the one to kill you, Sonnie.” I could tell soon as the words left her mouth that there wasn’t one molecule of bluff in them. Fuck, even like this, she had moments where she could still be absolutely terrifying; the fear elates me as the goosebumps on my skin start to smooth out.

“You want to do me in? I’ll give you a chance right here.” I toss the straight-edge to her feet amidst a pile of bloodied photo-prints and then stick the key to the cuffs into her hand. I start walking into the darkness round the edges of the warehouse, and make a show of tapping the side of my head and saying, “Case you’d forgotten, I ain’t in here.”

Wish I’d seen the look on her face, but I was busy starting up the automated protocol to shut down the Affinity link without a handler. Countdown started and I quick got into meditative pose so as I wouldn’t crack my skull open once motor control shut down. I felt that familiar sense of falling through darkness before the world faded in around me.

My pod was already opening. Khanivore’s muscles felt insane-strong. This body wasn’t fully repaired yet, but new pieces were in place. The replacement for the hand that Hellcat bit off felt like I had to concentrate real hard to get it to move; nerves grafts must not have taken full hold yet. My bone-blade tentacles had to be scrapped outright after what she did to them. Just as well, we’d been talking about an upgrade anyway. New set-up had five instead of four, and this was the first time I’d gotten to feel them. Put in more specialization, too, but they were still too fresh to really get a sense of that yet. With only the base muscle-structure implanted, my tentacular glory was blunt and unarmored. In fact, all five were still foetal soft.

Even so, I’d have to be careful. Last time I’d done this sort of thing was when Khanovire was turning Dicko and his Spetsnaz girl to mincemeat. Was the first time I’d felt what Khanivore’s body could do against human flesh; it was like a child manipulating this wet, cracking bit of playdough.

I saw Talynn in the light. She’d gotten her wristlocks undone and she had picked up the razor. She held it in two shaking hands in front of her in this defensive pose as I came into the light. She did this quick back and forth glance between the ten-centimeter hunk of metal in her hands, and the towering three-meters tall death-beast approaching her. She throws the blade to the floor with an echoing clatter and dashes fast toward the warehouse controls. Her feet slip on her own slick blood for a few steps before she can get traction, but that’s enough. I’d have laughed if I could, half a minute ago she was thinking she’d seize control of the situation, and now here she was practically shittin’ herself with mortal fear.

One powerful bound and a couple of steps puts me between Talynn and the door.  A tentacle lashed out faster than even I expected and had her constricted round the waist and pulled off the floor. I take a moment, and ease off; a firm twitch and I could turn her torso into something looks like a used up tube of toothpaste.

I take my time walking her back into the light, I was going to need it for this. Khanivore didn’t have the best fine-touch pressure nerves, so I’d have to do a lot of this by sight. Talynn kept looking up at me, convinced she was about to die. I figured I best let her know my intentions. Two more tentacles coiled around her bloodied ankles and slowly pulled them apart ‘til she was about two thirds to a full split. Look on her face was distress as she realized her imminant rape, but not so much agony as to make me think I’d dislocated a leg on accident. And my grip on her waist left her enough room to breathe, though not too deeply it looked like.

I lifted her up and the last two foetal tentacles lined up ready to go inside her, each of them thicker than the fists she was using to pound and flail helplessly against me. The way she screeched when I violated my way into her arse and cunt holes made me think I’d ripped my way in. The trickle of blood from her shitter said I was right. Kept a careful eye on the depth, even blunted, my tentacles were strong enough to rip their way well into her ribcage.

Suddenly I understand why Talynn gave her beastie a cock all full of nerve endings. I wanted to feel this; the clenching and thrashing as I raped my way into her. I wished I could feel every twitch, every weeping heave from inside of her body. I wanted to milk every ounce of divine pleasure from her torment and humiliation. Too bad Khanivore wasn’t built with the pleasure nerves for that sort of thing. Tearful screams came like music one after another as I thrust in and out of her.

It was beauty, pure and simple. A naked girl, ruby droplets still gently streaming from my cold steel artistry. Her expression spoke of equal parts shame and agony. It was so gorgeous I wanted to weep right then and there from the sheer resplendence. I want her to feel this, I want her to remember this always.

A few minutes of thrusting in and out of her tiny little body; then it seemed like something in her mind broke. The crying subsided, and she just got this look on her face like she wasn’t there anymore. I got a flash in my head of what this must have looked like, felt like. A monster, towering over her, raping it’s way into her with no regard for what it was doing to her. Christ, I’d taken it too far. I was making her re-live the way those pedo fucks had treated her when she was little. Part of me felt a bit sick with what I’d done. I decide to let her go and place her gently on the floor. I climb back into the pod and the A.I. program I rigged up knew to put Khanivore back in storage and put me back in human form.

I took a quick few seconds to collect myself. A part of me wanted to apologize, say I got carried away, but then that’d negate the entirety of what I was trying to do. If I wanted that psychological tumor laser-focused on me, I’d have to make sure it thinks I’m really that heartless.

Talynn just laid there panting. Seemed like the trauma left her in a state just before catatonic. I take a few last photo print-outs for posterity and then I tell her to get up. Had to repeat it a few times before she climbed shaking up to her feet. I grab the back of her neck and guide her to the big, rattling service door. I punch the button and the big slab of corrugated sheet metal starts curling up to the ceiling.

I push her out onto the asphalt, and the polluted, icy breeze of outdoors needles its way into her open wounds and gaping nethers. She gasps and seems shook out of her thousand-yard-stare. She moves her hands like she’s ashamed of being naked out in the open. She blinks a few times before her blue eyes point in my direction. She speaks quiet at me; not threatening or boasting, just meditative calm like she was making an oath, “I’m going to kill you, Sonnie.”

I hit the door-close and the big metal wall begins to inch its way down between us.

“You’ll have your shot.” I say it with this smug look right before the door makes us lose sight of each other.

I walk off into the warehouse and tell myself I did a good thing. I got the monster in her head obsessed on me so it wasn’t gonna be hurting anybody else. A deep down part of me knows that’s just horseshit. I liked hurting her, I liked raping her; I wanted her to know that I was better than her, stronger. And if next time I face her in the fight pit, it ends up being my last time, than a broken little girl gets to have justice. And that ain’t so bad, is it?

* * *

“Everyone out.” I dismiss the team calmly. This is a sacred moment. I need to commune with the new body I’d made for Talynn. Our own body still pains us from what Sonnie did. The scars still ache and itch even after all these months. I could have them removed; two, three treatments at most. But it wouldn’t matter. The pain of knowing that Sonnie is still alive after what she did to me is worse than any of the slings and arrows that could befall my mortal flesh.

We worked tirelessly, we needed a new body, a better vessel. We were too confident last time and Sonnie destroyed us. My avenging angel was trapped without a body of her own. How could she do this to my champion, to my love??

It didn’t matter now, her new body was finally finished. It had been so crowded in here with both of us. But now my white knight would finally get to put on her new armor.

I lowered the lights to a few lumens above pure blackness. Talynn would need time for her new senses to all properly synergize with one another, and with the bioware processor; it’s best not to overwhelm the senses right away.

I press a few buttons and the Affinity Link is active. I take a deep breath as I feel the pod open. Heavy footsteps thud against the cement hard enough to rattle the walls of the building.

She’s moving slowly on all fours, this arrangement of anatomy would take some getting used to. I felt her moving toward me slowly through the darkness.

A glint in the darkness catches my eye a foot or so in front of my face, her smooth, diamond-hard teeth. I blink a few times as my eyes adjust to the darkness, and I smile as the obsidian hide of her head comes into view. I reach up to caress her neck as her other two heads slowly begin to appear in the darkness.

“Welcome back, precious.”

[xxxdragonfucker69xxx]

seal moves in

(i dont remember if i ever posted this so im reposting it, this is from the far far future)

Seven centuries ago the Wyld washed over an entire direction in the wake of a Crusade, and it recedes slowly. Islands of lucidity jut forth like washed-up debris, either raksha playgrounds or remnants of Creation. It is here, scant miles beyond the edge of the world, that Siege Perilous looms. The sun does not reach here, though there is light; the deserts give way to paving-stones and green hills, and a hamlet in the shadow of a castle. The hamlet is empty, long abandoned by the look of it -- but surely less than seven centuries empty, when bleached banners still fly in the square intact. No, these houses were evacuated a mere five years ago, when their ancient hero finally returned to liberate them from raksha encirclement. When the castle's heir took up his rightful seat. When the Seal of Unforgotten Kings came home. A marble statue stands in the Siege's courtyard, gazing down on those who would enter the castle. In those five years, it has seen the Dusk a scant three times. 

A bottle of champagne smashed across its sunburst-crowned brow. "I hereby chrishen thish party... open!" Star declared.

Seal glowered up at him, perched on the statue's shoulder. "Get down from there," he shouted. "I wanted to fucking drink that."

Star shrugged, tossing the neck of the bottle over his shoulder and fluttering down. "Desh brought more, I think. Beshidesh, that shtuff schucksh. Gotta drink like a bucketful to get tipshy."

Des had indeed brought more; various bottles nestled in the crook of her arm, and beside her a white-haired boy labored under what appeared to be picnic baskets laden so high they obscured his face. Des clicked her tongue at him. "You know you don't have to carry all that, Sever," she said. "I could have got a ghost to do it."

Shoulders shrugged carefully on either side of the tower. "I don't mind," a basket at face height replied. Severed Tail of the Serpent Resembles Truth By its Writhing carefully adjusted the tower, distributing the weight more evenly, and continued on his way. Behind him, Des frowned and followed.

+++

Seal flung the castle doors open. "Honey, we're home," he shouted, emboldened by the presence of his friends. The empty hall echoed it back to him, white dust swirling in the corners from the sudden breeze.

Take this seriously, a voice said in his head. Seal could see him out of the corner of his eye: the spitting image of the statue outside, standing ramrod-straight and two heads taller than Seal, running a finger across the breastplate of a nearby suit of armor. Brightest Morning Star frowned at Seal. Is this any way to treat your domicile? The inheritance of centuries?

"Shut the fuck up, old man," Seal muttered through gritted teeth. "You're not even real."

Realer than your cleaning skills, the man responded before Star breezed through the space where he should have been standing. "Scho, where do you want thisch?" he said, louder than usual and brandishing a pilfered bottle of Shadow's brandy. He was pointedly not making eye contact, and Seal recognized that he had heard him talking to his preincarnation.

He flushed with anger. "Do I look like I give a shit?" he snapped. "We're gonna desecrate every fucking room in this castle, I didn't make a fucking itinerary." 

Schtar shrugged and moved on, sweeping his gaze around the castle -- probably doing that dumb Investigation shit again. "Oh, here we go," he said, opening a door. "Big ol' dining hall, kitschen muscht be thish way. C'mon, let'sh shee if they got schomefing to toasht thish bread with." He disappeared into the darkness, and the other Deathknights followed suit.

Brightest Morning Star reappeared in front of Seal, a phantom wind blowing away the nothingness that obscured him. You haven't picked up after yourself since the last time you were here, he reminded the boy disapprovingly. Or the time before that. You could at least sweep up some wreckage before they see. 

Seal grabbed an ornamental vase and flung it at the apparition. It sailed through empty air and smashed against the floor. "Fuck you!" he shouted at the silent hall, but images assailed him behind his eyelids: ruined tapestries with the faces singed away, spears with the hafts snapped in half and buried in discarded shields, the remnants of Seal's last tantrum here. The vast mural of stained glass he knelt before, unable to destroy it, unable to look directly at his predecessor's face. Seal swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, wiping away hot tears. He flung the red droplets on the floor. "Fine!" he declared angrily. "I'll go do your dumb fucking chores. Bitch."

Broom's in the upstairs closet, if it hasn't rotted away, Brightest Morning Star sniped from inside his mind.

+++

The broom was not in the upstairs closet.

Seal stared at the rack where it should have lay, where his-and-not-his memories pictured it beside the dustpan, which was also gone. "Hey, old man," he called out. "Are you fucking senile or did you just have servants do all your shit for you? Don't know where your own goddamn broom is?"

No response. Seal slammed the closet shut, and it rattled the frame pleasingly. "What the fuck now?" he asked out loud. Did someone break into the castle and steal his fucking broom? Glorious First Light loomed in the back of his mind. What if, by taking it from the castle, he'd left it vulnerable?

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, and broke into a run. Seal might have hated all this fucking stuff, but it was his fucking stuff. The treasury was filled with priceless First Age artifacts and also a bunch of stuff he'd smashed to pieces, and if some raksha bastard even fucking thought about fucking touching it --

Seal skidded to a halt. There was no raksha bastard. The treasury door was open, and as far as Seal could tell everything was in place. Except for the story crystals he'd smashed to pieces last time he was here, and had left scattered across the floor. As far as Seal could tell, there wasn't even a splinter of crystal on the floor, though their spots on the shelves remained empty.

What the fuck? Seal spun around. The sword he'd bent in half was gone as well, replaced with a completely different one -- a jian instead of a dao. The row of statuettes was artfully arranged to hide the ones Seal had beheaded. Even the trophy case Seal had cut in half was standing straight. He ventured over and tapped a finger against it.

It crashed down -- someone had merely shoved the two halves together so neatly Seal hadn't spotted the join. The noise startled him, and he jumped back -- and, out of the corner of his eye, saw movement. "Hey!" he cried reflexively, and pursued. The castle was a maze of halls and display cases and rooms full of junk, but whoever Seal was chasing seemed to know it like the back of their hand -- Seal only caught a flicker of movement, a flap of cloth disappearing around a corner. "Stop fucking running, bastard!" he shouted, and hurled Glorious First Light.

The spear blasted a crater in the wall at the end of the corridor, coming to rest buried a full hand into the stone -- and a hair's breadth from Des' face, where she was coming around the corner. "Who are you yelling at?" she asked, unflapped, stepping back and tucking her hair back behind her ears. "There's no one here." 

Seal came to a stop with one foot up against the wall, trying to yank the weapon out. "Some -- fucker -- stole my broom," he said, grunting. "And cleaned my fucking treasury." 

Des raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Stole your broom and not your hoard of ancient and extremely valuable relics?" she asked. "And... swept with it? Surely you should be thanking them." 

"I don't know what they fucking did," Seal grumbled. He pulled one last time and finally pulled the spear free, which meant that boy and weapon went tumbling head over heels. From his new position on the floor, Seal swore loudly and freely.

Des' eyes sparked with laughter as she helped Seal to his feet. "Well, if you think the mystery can wait for an hour or two, Star has managed to warm up the pie. Without any slime involved."

"Pie," Seal said fervently, and forgot about the broom entirely.

+++

The pie was burnt. The sandwiches were dry. The brandy tasted like shit. Seal enjoyed the hell out of it all.

They had left the great hall dark and empty and chosen to eat in the kitchen instead. It was cozy, gathered around the slab in the center while the fire blazed in the stove. Des had found a fork and knife; Star and Seal were eating with their hands. Seal wasn't sure Sever was eating at all, but every time he looked there was less food on the plate, so he guessed he must be. Also, Seal was drunk. 

"Sol's own fucking cock," he said, wiping his mouth. "This stuff really fucking tastes like a rat's ass." He slammed the empty glass down on the table and motioned for Des to pour him another shot. "But damn if it doesn't fucking do you."

Star's giggle broke into hiccups. "How do you know what a rat'sh assh tashtesh like?" he managed to slur out. "Eat a lot of rat asshesh in your schildhood?"

"Not as many as your fucking mom," Seal shot back. Star gasped, actually offended, but Sever distracted him with a slice of pie and Seal gloated silently at getting the last word. 

"So," Des said, pouring herself another glass of rose, which Star and Seal weren't allowed to touch (Sever had a small cupful in front of him). "What sort of magnificent things have you got in this castle anyways?"

Seal shrugged around a mouthful of burger (helpfully prepared by Pho ahead of time). "Treasury mostly," he replied. "I raided the armory but there's a bunch more shit in there. Like five fucking rooms full of random junk. East tower's full of little glass things, no idea what they do. Library, chapel, hangar --"

"--hanger?" Star piped up. "Like a big clothesh hanger?"

"I believe Seal means a hangar," Sever cut in smoothly. "Where First Age flying vessels are often stored."

Star's jaw hung open, comically filled with half-mashed mince. "You got airschipsh?"

A grin spread across Seal's face. "Hey, Star. Betcha can't fly faster than a First Age warbird."

"Betscha can't hit me in the air with a Firscht Age warbird," Star countered, and they were off.

+++

This is not the intended use of a warbird.

"Can't hear you over the sound of this fucking warbird!" Seal shouted, over the sound of this fucking warbird. 

These are holy weapons of war, not children's toys!

"Eat my fucking ass," Seal answered hotly, pulling back on the harness-gloves. The warbird responded, thirty thousand pounds of ancient magic carefully yoked to steel and fire, made to cut through behemoths like wet paper. Currently, Seal was trying to keep Star in his sights, though the winged Day Caste was swooping erratically through the air above the Siege Perilous. 

At the very least you could shoot him down, Brightest Morning Star replied a little petulantly. It's commendable how quickly you've picked up the controls, but we both know it's really my hand at the helm. Show me what you can do.

Seal waved a hand dismissively, which caused the warbird to spin alarmingly through the air. "I'm not gonna kill him," he responded when the aircraft was back under control. "Just wanna show off a little."

Oh, and smashing a warbird into him at a hundred miles an hour won't kill him?

"He's got Resistance Charms," Seal said, squinting as he finally lined Star up in the center of his sights -- "He'll probably be fine." -- and rammed the throttle forwards. 

The warbird's skeleton, Seal vaguely remembered his preincarnation vaguely remembering, was made of orichalcum and jade inlaid with starmetal. But all the architectural parts were mundane steel, so it really should have been no surprise when the warbird intercepted Star with a sickening crunch and the nose of the warbird crumpled inwards, Star's body tearing through it like a cannonball and rocketing backwards past Seal's head. Seal whooped even as the warbird began blaring new alarm sirens; orichalcum and steel versus soulsteel and Abyssal, it was no contest.

I hope you're happy with yourself, Brightest Morning Star spat. Try not to land on my best roses.

The ground rose to meet Seal, and everything went black.

+++

When he came to, he was on fire.

Seal yelped and struggled out of the warbird's cockpit, slapping at himself all over. Half his shirt had burned away, and the right leg of his pants tore off entirely as he snagged it on something falling out of the cockpit. The flame didn't blacken his skin like it should have, but it still stung like a bitch, so Seal spent a good minute rolling on the ground and loosing a barrage of curses.

"Having fun?" a voice asked from nearby. Seal righted himself to find Des sitting at a glass table, teacup in hand. They were in the castle's courtyard, though Seal could see a smouldering streak on the roof where the warbird must have caught it on the way down; empty flowerbeds surrounded them, organizing the courtyard in a geomantically auspicious pattern. Seal could remember every flower that had bloomed here once, the perfected Essence they had channeled. None of them were the black roses spilling out where Bloodthorn was planted blade-down in the soil.

"Practically dust," Des said, setting down her teacup and running a hand over the dirt. "Haven't been watered in two thousand years. Still, there's life in these old things yet." She fondled a rose, heedless of the thorns. Seal was dimly aware that she was making a point, and decided not to care. 

"Where's Star?" he demanded. "Fucker owes me fifty yen."

Des shrugged. "He landed over there," she said, indicating a point over Seal's shoulder. He turned to see a divot gouged into the earth, and at the end a pair of craters he had come to associate with the Wings. "Then he got up, mumbled something about his bones, and limped away. Sever was preparing a party in the chapel, so I think he went there to lie down." Seal lit up and turned to go, but Des caught his hand. "Listen, Seal," she said, her voice lower. "Honestly. How are you feeling?"

A butterfly fluttered down to land on a rose. Vibrant blue shimmered against velvet black.

"Weird, honestly," Seal admitted. He came back to flop down into a chair opposite Des. "It's like.... he's still here, obviously, but this place isn't his anymore. It's mine. But he keeps trying to be me, or I keep trying to be him." He grunted in frustration at not having the words, but Des hummed softly and nodded.

"It's complicated," she agreed. "Hard to tell what's you and what isn't. And everything hurts in every direction. You know," she said, saving Seal the awkwardness of having to reply, "you should try talking to Sever sometime. You've got a lot in common."

Seal scoffed. "Sever?" he said scornfully. "I love the guy, but he's got more in common with a filing cabinet than a human being."

Des hummed again. "You might say that. Just as he might say you've got more in common with your spear than with any of us." Seal's anima burst into darkness, but Des laid her hand on his -- gently, communicating her calm. "Exactly," she said. "Exactly." 

Seal grumbled and withdrew his power. "Fine," he said. "Let's go see about this fucking party.

+++

They found Sever and Star in the chapel. Star was laying on a pew, an arm over his eyes, still smoking slightly. The Wings had sawed a hole in the back of the pew so they could drape dejectedly onto the floor. Sever was sitting on the floor, a scroll of parchment rolled out down the center aisle. Seal limped closer to discover that Sever was making exactly the itinerary he hadn't made: a room-by-room schedule that spanned the entire night. 

"Sol fucking Invictus," Seal muttered. "Did you hand write four fucking copies of the same schedule?"

"It is not the same schedule," Sever explained, handing them out. "These also contain personalized information such as alcohol preferences and sleeping arrangements. But, yes."

Des took her itinerary with interest. "My, Sever, this is.... very thought out. You've placed yourself on a team with Seal for chicken?" 

Seal thought he saw the shadow of a blush cross Sever's face. "Star has an advantage because of his wings and Seal has one because of his Caste, so I thought your style of motion would complement Star's best." Des nodded thoughtfully. 

"Yeah! We're gonna fucking kick your assh at schicken!" Star called from the pew, where he was now face down. "Juscht asch shoon asch my fasche shtopsh being on fire."

"You owe me a hundred yen, by the fucking way," Seal called back. Star grumbled and fished around in his pockets for a minute, then flipped him a koku and muttered for him to keep the schange. Seal pocketed it and glared around the room darkly. Colored crystal occupied the entire wall behind the podium, depicting Brightest Morning Star with four arms driving his spear down the throat of a serpentine raksha. There was no sun above Siege Perilous, yet Brightest Morning Star's face shone as though the sun were shining through it. Seal exchanged glares with it for a minute before looking away. "Do we have to fucking start here, though?" he muttered. "I hate this fucking room."

Sever looked down with a frown, pen already in hand, but Des caught his hand before he could start writing. "That's exactly why we're starting here," she said. "I've brought some supplies I think you might enjoy." She reached into a basket and pulled out a small silvery cylinder, with a bump at one end, and handed it to Seal. "Hold it like this," she instructed, "twist that nozzle, and press down. No, hold it the other way --"

A hideous shade of yellow-green filled Seal's vision, and he reflexively flared his anima. As Essence blasted outwards from his body his eyes cleared, and he could see that a faint cloud of that color was still hanging in the air, except for what had been blasted away and was now coating the carpet. Des sighed. "It's paint," she said. "You spray it on the walls and it stays there just about forever. I thought you might like to personalize the wall over there." She indicated Brightest Morning Star's shining disgusting face, and Seal grinned.

"Wake up, Star," he said. "Let's commit some fucking art."

+++

They defaced the chapel. They had a mock war in the armory. Seal let Des raid the library for all she could carry, then they built book forts and launched dictionaries across the room (Cascade of Papercut Terror made its debut to thunderous applause). They got scandalously, outrageously, rip-roaringly drunk in the wine cellars, which were full of booze that must have made even a First Age god-king's constitution take pause. They sang extremely rude songs in the courtyard, and did somersaults on every bed in every bedroom. The castle filled with laughter and dust. 

Eventually, though, even the most powerful of Exalted wear themselves out. Des found a glory-crystal saga in the library, the dramatization of some First Age romance-battle, and they set up in the great hall to watch. The deathknights bundled themselves up with blankets pilfered from the master room and scarfed down candied berries from the pantry. For something produced in a golden age of magic and science, the reenactment was laughably bad, and they spent a pleasant hour flinging critiques and berries at the projection. "Come on, haven't theshe guysh ever shtabbed anyone in the back?" Star shouted. "Thish ish the worsht fucking form I've ever sheen!"

"Completely horrendous," Des agreed as she popped another berry in her mouth. "But she deserves it. My god, anything to make her shut up for a second."

Seal stretched his arms out and yawned. "She talks more than Shadow fucking does when he's trying to justify his dumb shit as extremely wise fucking shit." He glanced around the room. "Hey, quick question. Where the fuck is Sever?"

Star diverted his gaze to scan the room for a moment. "Guessh he shtepped out for a minute," he said. "Maybe he couldn't shtomach the schitty shpeschial effectsh."

"Seriously, Sculpted Seafoam Eidolon is a Terrestrial spell, would it fucking kill them to put some effort in?"

"I'm gonna go find him," Seal declared, standing up and wobbling momentarily from the Exalted-level alcohol in his system. "Nobody gets to miss this shit." 

Des shrugged. "Whatever you say."

+++

Seal found Sever watching the ocean. 

The window at the end of the west hall, Seal knew, looked out onto a perpetually stormy sea with grey skies. Seal knew this cause he was pretty sure there was no fucking sea near Siege Perilous, and had been about to smash through the window and check it out before Brightest Morning Star yelled at him not to. He was never sure if it was a portal to some real sea in Creation or just an illusion, or maybe something else entirely.

Sever was curled up in the windowsill, head turned sideways to stare out over the roiling black waves. Seal thought for sure he would hear him coming up, but Sever was so lost in thought that he didn't notice until Seal tapped him on the shoulder. Only Seal's keenly honed battle senses let him notice the instant of reflexive tension before Sever returned to perfect relaxation and turned to face Seal serenely. "Ah, Seal," he said, sounding professional as ever. "How are you enjoying the festivities?"

Seal snorted. "You kidding?" he asked, moving to sit in the opposite end of the windowsill. "This is the best fucking birthday bash I've had in..... uh, ever. So fucking cheers to you." He mimed raising a glass, and Sever smiled faintly.

"Well," he said, rising smoothly, "I won't obstruct you, then. Continue to enjoy your evening --"

"Whoa, whoa, slow the fuck down," Seal said, catching Sever's wrist and feeling again that reflexive tense. "Where the hell are you going?"

Sever waved a hand vaguely. "To clean," he said, not resisting Seal's pull but not giving in. "The kitchen should be scoured, and though I understand the art in the chapel is to be a permanent fixture I'd like to sharpen up the edges and cover some of the more fragile --"

"Hang the fuck on," Seal said, as his brain finally caught up with what Sever was saying. "Was that you earlier, that cleaned up the fucking armory and then ran the fuck away like some kind of freak? What did you do that for? How did you know there was shit in there?" Sever looked like he was trying to answer every question at once, but Seal didn't let him get a word in edgewise. "For fuck's sake, dude, we brought you here to have fun, not to be some weird shadow with a broom. Live a little! Have some fucking fun, man!"

"As a matter of fact, Seal, I am enjoying myself. In my own way." Sever sounded slightly put off by Seal's enthusiasm.

Seal scoffed. "Bull fucking shit you are."

Sever blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I said bull fucking shit on a rat's hot cock you're having fun. You think I don't know angst brooding when I see it?" Seal gestured out over the waters. "Dude, I brood here all the time. It's, like, my number three spot in the castle. Stare at the fucking ocean and think about death or whatever. Right?" he demanded.

Sever blinked again, more slowly. ".... something like that," he admitted after a long pause.

"Something fucking like that," Seal agreed. "Well, bullshit to fucking that. I'm not allowed to brood tonight, and neither are fucking you. No more cleaning either. Des can summon some ghosts in the morning."

"But I'm perfectly capable of --"

"-- of sitting your ass down and acting like a human being, you jackass!" Seal was surprised by the force of his own words. "Sol Invictus, it fucking wigs me out sometimes, you know that?" A mixture of emotions crossed beneath the surface of Sever's face. "I know you are, even if you fucking don't. Yeah, you don't know who you fucking are, your soul was eaten or what the fuck ever, big fucking deal. None of us knows a goddamn fucking thing about ourselves, and do you think it's ever stopped me? Come on," he demanded, suddenly rising to his feet and striding down the hall, Sever still in tow.

"Where are we -- I really must protest --"

Seal dragged Sever all the way to the treasury, scooped a shelf-ful of glass figurines into Sever's protesting arms, and then back into the chapel. "Right," he said, taking the figurines from Sever and setting them on the floor in front of him. "Got your sword with you?"

"Unfortunately," Sever said, "I was not allowed to bring Atrumarkinos on this expedition."

Seal rolled his eyes. "Good," he said. "You'd be too good with it anyways. Here," and in a single motion he summoned Glorious First Light and brought it crashing down on the back of the pew.

Sever flinched so hard Seal thought he might actually leave his body. "What are you doing?" he asked, so pointedly that Seal could almost consider it a shout.

"Improvising," Seal answered, pulling at a bar of wood off the back of the pew. He had to stand on it with one foot and wrench it off with both hands, and only Essence saved him from a fistful of splinters, but in the end he was left with a plank about half as tall as Sever was. He handed it to the bemused Day Caste, returned to his spot, and held up a figurine. "Right. What can you tell me about these?"

Sever peered at it from across the room. "First Age artifice is not my forte, but I believe they are similar to a lesser form of yasal crystal. Each imprisons a minor spirit, hardly greater than the god of a grain of rice. I cannot say what purpose such a least spirit could serve. Perhaps simply to retain a memory, and recount it when charged?"

Seal squinted down at the figurine in his hand, a little statuette of Brightest Morning Star with spear overhead. "Really? Huh." Now that Sever mentioned it, there did appear to be a little light flickering in the middle of it. Seal looked back up, tossing it in his hand to gauge its weight. "Well, I guess you're not wrong. But you're also totally wrong. The only fucking thing these things are good for," he said, winding up, “is for smashing.”

Sever flinched a good ten seconds before the figurine smashed against the wall behind him. A wisp of glowing smoke rose up and whispered in a tinny voice before dissipating. "Come on!" Seal shouted. "I know you have Melee, hit it with your fucking thing!"

"I do not believe this is safe, Seal," Sever called with rising urgency as he ducked another figurine.

"Safety is for fucking cowards!" Seal bellowed as he began to throw them with increasing speed. "Stop dodging and break some shit like a man!"

He had to admit, though, that Sever's evasive skills were impressive. Seal was putting some Essence into his throws now, trying to peg Sever in the arm or leg, and normally would have guessed there was no power that could stop him -- but whatever was driving Sever, fear or common sense, animated him like a madman and kept him just slightly faster than Seal's projectiles. A luminescent haze rose from the floor at Sever's feet, miniature gods dissipating into the ether. And then Seal saw the change come over him. To his adrenaline-charged senses, it seemed to happen in slow motion: Sever' feet squared against the stone, back foot braced and front foot pointed. His spine, usually painfully upright, bent like a coiled snake; purpose set his shoulders and tensed his arms. The crack of glass against the wood echoed throughout the chapel, and Seal could have sworn it was the most beautiful sound in the world, just before the spray of glass ricocheted back and stabbed him in the face.

Sever dropped the plank like it was red-hot and hurried over to where Seal was rolling on the floor, hands clutched to his face, making a sound like a dying elephant. "Are you alright?" he asked frantically, trying to hold Seal still long enough to assess the damage. "I'll get Des, maybe she can moliate something --"

Seal grabbed at Sever's shoulders. "That -- was -- fucking -- brilliant!" he shouted, and confusion replaced fear as Sever realized Seal was laughing. Blood dripped down his face, from cuts of glass and from his caste mark. "Yes! That's what I'm fucking talking about! You're a fucking natural!" Seal laughed, pumping a fist in the air with elation. 

+++

Des and Star found them another half hour later, the crystal-saga having ended on a cliffhanger. It was the sound that drew them to the chapel: sounds of shattering glass, splintering wood, and laughter -- a laugh they had never heard before. Des rounded the corner first, then threw out an arm to stop Star and backpedaled hurriedly. "Look," she whispered, so Star stuck his head around the corner to look, and what he saw made his jaw drop.

Seal was standing at the far end of the chapel, piles of glass figurines around him. He was hurling the shards overhand at Sever, who was standing with his back to the chapel's entrance, holding.... a broken-off piece of wood? And was, unerringly, smashing every figurine as it sailed towards him, even when he had to jump to catch it or dive before it hit the floor. Unerringly, the spray of glass flew back towards Seal, who appeared to be playing a game of how long he could wait before hiding behind the pulpit. Blood speckled the wall of crystal behind him, though only Star's Essence-enhanced senses could pick that up. But he didn't need Essence to identify the unidentifiable noise.

Both Sever and Seal were laughing.

[early-sxnsets]

Don’t @ Me

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215168/chapters/43092371

Chapter 1/10 of It’s A Handheld Disaster

Word Count: 3118

Fic Summary: Teenage life is hard enough, but with the added weight of their lives, both Simon and Baz thrive online in a fandom for the British crime show, Gastrell, about the genius Huxley and his "flatmate" Sam. Through Tumblr, they find each other, and sink into something more than just being mutuals.

Chapter Summary: A shitpost is taken a little too personally, and an argument breaks out. In true Baz fashion, he seeks to prove himself right in the most ridiculous way possible.

BAZ

Morning routines are the most menial shit in the realm of existence of arbitrary tasks.

Everyone seems to have them, yet nobody really has a set one. For example, my step-mum has a long, seemingly pointless hour of simply facial cleansers, serums, and hair products. When I’d asked her years ago why she does it all, she shook her head and said “You’ll never be an aging woman, Basilton.”

I couldn’t quite argue with that.

Regardless, it’s a part of life. The routines. Wake up, morning routine, morning activity, eat, afternoon activity, usually afternoon snack, evening activity, dinner, night-time activity, sleep.

A boring, underwhelming cycle of the day.

Although, I suppose it’s shittier for me, since the homeschooling doesn’t give me a chance to do much besides sit and read. Of course, I have my car and I can drive off to whatever. Hell, father even suggested I get a job to occupy myself, but I don’t quite see the point given how much money we have (and the risk factors with moving around so frequently).

So, here I am. Finishing my classes in a matter of months, then having an entire year of pointless bullshit.

Needless to say, my entire day’s routine isn’t the most thrilling. Wake up at 10 on a good day, check social media and emails, then just lay here until I can’t wait to piss. Piss. Go to eat breakfast and get greeted by screaming children and my poor step-mum trying to wrangle them in. Go upstairs, go back online, see whatever’s on my dash, reblog some shit, then try to do something vaguely productive. Check Archive, check email again. Nothing’s on the emails, ever. Text Dev and Niall, who get awfully pissed since they are in school. Get more food. Eat. Bring tea upstairs, despite the disdained look from our maid (who hates collecting my piles of mugs). Write for a couple hours. Take an afternoon nap, if I please. Wake up and sit there (again). Maybe lonely wank. Go back to the bathroom, stare at myself in the mirror for a good few minutes. Sit on the toilet for half an hour for no reason besides the fact that my phone seems more interesting while sitting there as compared to sitting in bed. Sit then on the bathroom floor doing the same thing. Go back to my bed, listen to music on my phone and work on my laptop. Write, maybe scroll. Get dinner brought to me as they tut that I should be more active. Eat. Go downstairs for an evening workout (they’re right, I shouldn’t confine myself to my bed). Come back, do exactly what I do for half the day until I pass out somewhere around 3 am. Repeat.

Dream life for an 17 year old. Social life of a god.

Somewhat.

It’s shit to say (and sort of embarrassing to share) that there’s sort of a social media presence around me. Not quite the Instagram model bullshit, but based around fan life.

Yes, it’s a laughing stock. That’s where my popularity lies--a mixed grab-bag of various ages gathering around various platforms to enthuse about certain topics. And I’m somehow lucky enough to have the slightest bit of popularity here.

As in, a large following. A large, somehow active following.

It isn’t exactly thrilling as one would like to think. Sure, it’s fun to see a scattered group of regulars pop up, and I have my mutuals, but it’s a sad existence to sit around and make various shitposts with nothing better to occupy my mind. Or, at least, that’s what Dev and Niall tell me.

All in all, I blame Fiona. She’s the one who got me into the show, saying she thought the character was a bit like me. After I saw it, I found the three connections she’d grasped at.

Gay, dark-haired, and violinist.

As if that’s a rarity.

Yet, surely enough, I did love it. The cinematography, the characters, the storyline. It was intriguing--captivating.

It doesn’t hurt that the online community was still on the smaller side when I first got there. The show was only a season in when I made my blog, and I’ve stuck through all this bullshit to get me here. One of the regulars. Reposted everywhere, uncredited usually. Big fics, large interactions. Shitposts with thousands upon thousands of notes. I’m recognizable; a suggested name.

Don’t get me wrong, the attention is spectacular. I love interacting with people beyond this depressing household, and they’re usually fairly nice (usually) (except those ravenous for an argument). It’s just awkward to share at times when people ask why your mobile’s got 99+ symbols next to the apps and you just shrug and say “I’m shit at checking it” to avoid the conversation because most people see it as childish.

It’s a shame, really. Especially since I feel emotionally attached to these goddamn fictional fuckers.

I suppose that’s what makes it all the more personal, then. Even the shitposts mean something to me.

Which is what makes this is a long, winded way of saying fuck whoever’s arguing with me about whether or not Huxley is a fucking Ravenclaw. (He is. Hands down.) How’d I get here, staring at my mobile in disbelief at a brief back and forth post turned fight? Because it feels like a reasonable question to wonder.

I got here because, as almost all mornings, I woke up, opened my phone, read my notifs, then sat here, thinking of something. Anything. Then, in a tired haze, typed out a single text post on tumblr.

huxley gastrell is a ravenclaw send tweet

Following so, I went about my typical morning. Of course. Then--then--I check my phone as I’m going downstairs and I see it. I see the “@bi-sammy mentioned you in a post!” notif, then read the God-forsaken reblog.

@gaystrell op do you take criticism on your posts?

I frowned at my phone, typing out a quick response before tucking it back into my pocket.

@bi-sammy no.

What I hadn’t anticipated, though, was the reply I’d open up to soon after I’d started poking at my morning meal.

@gaystrell well too bad bc ur WRONG and ur opinions are UGLY

#he’s clearly a slytherin this is slytherin oppression #don’t tell me he and bryonie aren’t from a slytherin family

Now I sit, staring and completely awestruck at such a post. Now, I won’t deny Bryonie Gastrell is definitely, in all possible ways, a Slytherin. Cunning and ambitious as fuck, as any political spy may be, but fuck anyone who tries to dismiss Huxley’s clear Ravenclaw leanings.

It takes me a moment to fully process, mouth robotically chewing my eggs as I contemplate my answer.

@bi-sammy there is absolutely no proof of huxley being a slytherin and more than enough support towards him being a ravenclaw. get your clueless negativity off my blog, you utter tit.

With that, I settle my phone face down onto my table and try to enjoy my lovely plate of scrambled eggs, barely ignoring the boiling of my blood.

SIMON

My phone lights up with the new notification, dragging my attention away from my laptop as the words slide down onto the screen. “@gaystrell mentioned you in a post!” I hate to admit that I get a little pattering in my heart, urging my hand out to grasp the mobile as I pause the Youtube video currently playing. As I read his words, I slowly blink out of my excitement.

Tit. He called me a bloody tit.

Of course this fucking wanker called me a tit.

He must think that since he’s this big bad blogger, he can call me a tit right out in the open. (Although, he is talking to me, so that’s a plus) (No! No no no, bad validation, Simon. Bad). What, with his thousands of followers and fans of his own, he thinks he can try to say shit out in the open?

Fuck it. He’s either getting a DM or a bloody fist fight from me. I’ll take a train to wherever the fuck he lives (which is somewhere in England, since that’s what his bio says) (and his aunt lives in London, since he’s posted about visiting her) (I really do wonder where he’s from and how close he might be--what if I run into him one day?) (No wait fuck I don’t want that anymore).

Clicking on his blog, the little person drop down gives me the option of a message. I barely think as I type it out, vision going spotty from the adrenaline of the twinging anger.

bi-sammy: i swear to god there was no point to the battle of hogwarts if you’re just going to go around and absolutely slander the slytherin name and dare say that huxley is not one of them and, rather, is a ravenclaw

At first, I grin at it, watching my lone message appear into the empty chat. It’s so freeing--so powerful to send it. I pride myself, in the moment, for this solid move of communication. Of course I’m fucking proud. I messaged the arse myself and gave him a space to fight.

Maybe Penny’s right, I should dial down the confrontation, but it’s just the internet. Nothing important happens through a stupid little argument over Huxley’s true Hogwarts house (although, I’m sure I know I’m right in my heart), but it is a bit of fun to fuck around with someone. It’s a distraction. And that’s why I’m here, afterall. To have a distraction.

Penny thinks it’s a bit silly, but she doesn’t really complain. All she’s ever said was  “I thought we left fandom stuff behind us when we were 14.” She said it over lunch, watching me scroll through my at-the-time new tumblr.

It’s funny, I thought I did leave it behind when I was younger. It seemed unneeded as life shifted. I’d just found a stable foster home, with someone who was going to keep me for a while. I found Penny a couple months before I deactivated my old account. I was happy; we were free. I didn’t need a venting place.

Shits been sort of hitting the fan recently, though. No uni plans, David’s been getting more controlling, and of course, Agatha dumping me. It all crashed on top of me a few months ago, and somehow, the only place that I could find healthy coping was online. So, I started fresh. Made a blog and settled in. It’s not big, but I’ve had a few posts get noticed. I have a good few hundred followers, and one nice anon who asks me how I am every few weeks. It’s not a lot, but it’s comforting.

I feel at home here, even with a little discourse.

Well, only when the discourse is answered. Which, in this situation, I don’t know if it will be, given it’s been over an hour now and Baz hasn’t answered.

If that’s even his name.

It’s what his bio says, at least.

baz. 17. cisguy (he/him). gay. don’t interact if you think huxley is remotely straight.

I’ve wondered for a while what Baz stands for. He refuses to answer it in asks; he always says it’s too personal. He’s sort of odd like that--never posts pictures of anything that could be linked back. Seems sort of creepy, but then again, a lot of people follow him. It’s reasonable to want space.

Maybe that’s why he’s not answering. He probably wants space of some sort, but it’d be at least decent to answer someone who tried to have a discussion (that’s at least what I’m calling that message I sent--a discussion starter).

I frown at my phone, keeping it on silent as I slide it into my front pocket and settle into my seat in maths. I’ll say it--I sulk in class, a little bitter that I don’t have his attention (despite the fact that he seems like he’s always active online, which seems odd). Eventually, I exhale and try to let it slip away. There went my one interaction with him. My few seconds of the weirdest fucking bliss online, gone.

Then, it happens. As the class is ending, I pull out my screen just enough to see and there it is. A clear notification telling me he’d answered. Oddly enough, it’s just him sending me a link to a Google Doc.

Weird.

I ignore it for the moment being, letting myself ride the wave of relaxation that I actually got a reply. It passes my mind until I’m sitting in the back of Agatha’s car, listening to Penny and Aggie in the front talking about whatever’s on their mind. The rides are sort of awkward as of recently. At least Agatha agreed to drive me home (it’s a good 45 minute walk, if not) after some convincing from Penny, but her and I don’t really chat. It’s just the two of them.

Given that time, I have a chance to pull out my mobile and thumb through what was sent.

gaystrell: https://docs.google.com/document/d/175qFASmqD7hey8lE0eoE-6VhhFYE9DP6bpnI32Aay98/edit?usp=sharing

I click on it, not expecting that much (or, really, not expecting anything at all). Yet, the second it pops up and loads, my jaw drops.

“Jesus fuck,” I say aloud, scrolling through it. Penny turns her head, frowning as I stay locked on my screen.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“No--no nothing,” I say, waving a hand. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s got to be something for that reaction,” she says, keeping turned in her seat as she eyes me up. “Just tell us, Si.”

“I mean it when I say it’s nothing.” My voice gets quieter as I shift, reading the title. “It’s just fandom stuff. It’s really nothing.”

I hear her disgruntled huff as she turns back, mumbling something about me reacting too dramatically to this. “It isn’t even real.” It’s said under her breath, yet it still rings clear in my ears.

It isn’t really fake, either.

Hell, this is six pages of real. “Why Huxley Gastrell is, Without a Doubt, a Ravenclaw”. Shared by Basilton Pitch (is that his actual name?!). Fucking hell, it’s detailed to no ends. You’d think, with this much writing, there’d be pages of pointless filler where he’d just type “im gay hi huxley is also a gay we’re all gay here aren’t we”, but no. It’s full, grammatically correct sentences detailing his points.

It’s a bit much to read in the car, so I settle my mobile face down onto the seat as I’m left reeling. That… was a bit more than I’d expected.

Shit, did he write that for me?

This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

BAZ

Whoever says that having a flair for the dramatics is pointless has clearly never met me, because I wouldn’t quite call this masterpiece of an essay “pointless”. In fact, I should send it to academics. Rename it “A Study In Multi-Dimensional Characters and their Associated Generalized Personality Traits”. I’ll be hailed as a genius, as I deserve to be.

I crack my knuckles, and see the little person pop up.

Surely enough, it’s @bi-sammy’s name that he has listed online, Simon. It’s curious, he has his last name listed as “Snow”. Although, the smallest part of me believes it’s a pseudonym. Given our interactions, I doubt he’s clever enough to think of a solid pseudonym. And, even at that, why pick Snow?

Either way, it’s surprisingly endearing. Simon Snow. Sounds sweet. Sounds innocent.

I watch his cursor turn on, then his icon goes grey after a few moments. My heart starts to trip, making my cheeks begin to flush. Is… he ignoring this?

No. He can’t be. I put in hard work and dedication into this work, and I deserve the respect I’d sent into it. Fucking hell, three fully developed points (his devotion to intellectual work, his effort to step out of public light for Sam’s sake, and his overall lack of ambition for moving forward). I clearly set it out, and ended it properly; I’d proven that Huxley is a Ravenclaw. Case and point, opinion made, the end.

And, here I sit, watching him have the audacity to open it up then close it back. That was my hard work put in there, and he closes it? Who in the name of all that is sacred thinks he’s that above other people to the point where he just ignores--

Oh. He’s back on. Nevermind.

He’s… probably a school student. It’s roughly the time that most classes end, I suppose.

I make a mental apology to him, despite having never ranted directly to him in the first place.

He stays active for a good bit; long enough to show he’s reading. I assume that he’d just close off and message me, but after minutes, I notice a little highlighted comment pop up on the last sentence.

Simon Snow i………. owe you every single possible apology

Each word makes me grin like I haven’t in a while. A wide, cheek-creasing grin. There’s something so sweet to that--so personal. It feels like a note passed to me in a classroom under the tables. Like a cute “Blink if you like me”, although I doubt he has quite an intention.

Nevertheless, it warms my chest, sending my head back as I smile. I’m not sure whether or not it’s the satisfaction of winning, or his words, but I laugh outwardly into the room. It stays with me, reverberating onto my skin and my throat.

I look back at the comment, then leave it untouched. If he won’t remove it, then I won’t either.

With a glance at our personal messages tab, I figure that’s that. Even field, no more argument. No more interaction. It’s a bit of a shame, given the effort I’d just extorted for his sake, that he hasn’t answered in our chat.

While I’m disappointed to close off the document, I smile at it one last time. Sometimes I have to move on from random people, especially when they come on a bit strong.

Except, I find, moments later that I’m wrong about one thing--the moving on. He didn’t just stop his interaction, but instead made a public post.

“@bi-sammy mentioned you in a post!”

This time, I really laugh. A full bellied, hand-covering-mouth laugh.

i guess i have to suck @gayhuxell’s cock now because i was wrong and the bloody arse was right. huxley is a ravenclaw.

#fuck me i guess

I take a minute, rereading over his words a few times before typing a simple answer with my reblog.

i’m available anytime behind a mcdonald’s parking lot

[itsreigns]

Work For It

Sheamus x Reader

Requested by @xfirespritex​

Sheamus meets (Y/N) at an open tryout for WWE and he is really interested but doesn’t make a move or anything. He can’t stop thinking about her. One day he goes to the PC and she’s working out there, because she was given a developmental contract in NXT.

(A/N): This is almost 2k! Damn. Please, let me know what you think. Leave comments, constructive criticism, or more ideas or even if you another part, on my inbox. I’ll definitely appreciate it. I hope you enjoy this fic. If you want to get tagged let me know. (I just deleted this ugh so I have to repost it...)

Tag Squad:

@xfirespritex | @hardcorewwetrash | @shadow-of-wonder | @oreillyskyle | @crazyprettychick | @wwe-smutfics | @heelsamizayn | @heygargano | @helluvawriter | @tryingtofindaplaceinthisworld | @damnbuvky | @caramara3 |

With a duffel bag resting on his pale shoulder and the hot Floridian sun beating down on his back, Sheamus made his way to the entrance of the Performance Center. He stopped in his tracks once his eyes landed on you.

Sheamus didn’t recognize you, so you surely were at the PC for the open tryout, and you were… stunning. At least for him, you were.

For a few seconds, he studied you.

You stood there, with your dark brown hair tight in a ponytail, completely caught up in a conversation with another woman. Your big brown eyes sparkled as you laughed at something the woman said.

You were definitely something special, Sheamus thought. He couldn’t quite come up with a specific explanation as to how or why he was completely drawn to this woman… only that he was.

Suddenly, your gaze moved, landing on him, and your eyes met. Sheamus felt like a deer in headlights. He quickly averted his gaze and walked towards the locker room, feeling his face blush.

You shrugged it off. Slightly. Because it somehow caused a twisted feeling on your stomach.

You know Sheamus. Well, not personally, you just know the character he plays. And you love it. Still, you were always curious to know how he is behind the spotlight and the cameras.

You’re very attracted to the man, physically. Not the persona, but the man behind it. The way he wore his hair, down and natural, as it was just now… his beard… the way he just is a simple and laidback guy, wearing comfy clothes and laying low. Yeah, he was your type.

You snap out of your thoughts, suddenly realizing you’ve completely zoned out of the conversation for a couple of seconds.

----

The tryout had gone out pretty well. After the individual presentations, the group was distributed through some of the WWE wrestlers. You and three other girls ended up with Cesaro. So currently, you were just doing a small briefing with him and the girls.

When you’re done, you and Cesaro walk down to the locker room together, the other girls staying behind you, chatting. The walk was quiet, and you were slightly lost in thought. But suddenly, Cesaro’s voice snap you out of it.

“(Y/N), hello? Hey? You in there?” He snaps his long fingers in front of your face, chuckling. You finally face him, your cheeks tinted with a slight blush, worsening when you notice Sheamus standing beside him. “Now that you’re back on Earth, as I was saying, (Y/N), this is Sheamus. Sheamus, this is (Y/N).”

There’s a few seconds of awkward silence. You and Sheamus are both blushing, fidgeting nervously, as Cesaro looks between the both of you, wondering what the hell is going on.

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you… (Y/N).” Sheamus finally says, his voice rougher than what you were used to from TV, and Jesus Christ, the way he said your name… his goddamn accent.

Your heart is beating madly in your chest, and you could swear your legs turned to jelly.

“I- Hm, it’s nice to meet you too.” You mumble, feeling your face hot as a tomato.

The awkward silence turned into uncomfortable, and Cesaro really didn’t understand what was going on, but he definitely intended on asking Sheamus about it.

“Oookay.” Cesaro exhales deeply. “We’ll talk soon, (Y/N). See ya.”

“See ya.” You reply, swallowing the lump in your throat. Your gaze locked with Sheamus’ briefly, before they head to the locker room, leaving you in the middle of the hall, heart and mind racing, watching them walk away.

----

Fifteen minutes later, in the men’s locker room…

“Man, what the hell was that all about?” Cesaro shoots, as Sheamus dried himself off, after taking a shower.

Sheamus stops his motions to face him. “That what?” He shrugs it off.

“You know what. Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not playing dumb. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cesaro looks at him, well-knowingly that he’s hiding something from him. “Ok, fine. I guess you’ll tell me about her when you’re ready.”

Sheamus briefly glances at Cesaro, but didn’t say anything else.

A month after that day, Cesaro was definitely proven right. As he knew he would.

“I knew it. I so knew it.”

“Stop, man.” Sheamus pleads, maintaining his attention on packing his suitcase.

“Nope. Not until you tell me all about it.” He grins, sitting at the bottom of the bed, looking down at Sheamus, who’s sitting at the carpet, packing his stuff.

“There’s nothing to tell, brother… I just liked her.” He shrugs, taking a second to look at Cesaro.

“Pfff… you just liked her? Really? That’s all you’re going to say?” Cesaro shakes his head in disbelief. “Man, I know what I saw. You were nervous as fuck back then, all blushing… You didn’t just like her.”

“Gah, Jesus Christ! I don’t know either, man!” Sheamus shoots, finally placing his whole attention on the conversation. “I just saw her and… I don’t know. There was something about her. I can’t explain… I just feel it. And I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“That’s so romantic.” Cesaro smiles widely, in a lovey-dovey manner.

“See? This is why I didn’t want to tell you.” Sheamus scoffs, both sad and angry.

“I was kidding, man… I think that was a sign. Stuff happens for a reason. Fate. Destiny.” He says, standing up and patting his back. “You should ask her out. See where it goes.”

“That’s if she wants anything to do with me… I mean, she’s like what… 30? And I’m close to be an old fucker…” He mumbles, as Cesaro frowns after hearing his buddy putting himself down this way. “She deserves better. She probably wants better.”

“Are you fucking stupid, man? Didn’t you see that she looked exactly like you did when you two met? Jeez, you gotta be blind.”

“Don’t bother… I’m not going to see her again anyway, so…”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Cesaro mutters, but Sheamus catches up on what he says.

“What do you mean?”

“Uh, nothing. Just talking to myself.”

Sheamus was still suspicious with what his friend had said, but decided to ignore it. He knows that the odds of running into you again are very low.

----

It’s been two months since your awkward encounter. During this time, you’ve gotten yourself a brand new WWE contract, and you couldn’t be happier. It’s a developmental contract in NXT, so you spent a lot of time working out and training at the PC lately.

Not many people know yet. You only told your family, Cesaro, and a couple of friends from the roster. You didn’t want to make a big buzz about it. You’re still in training and working on your character, so you want to work your ass off and let things flow. That way, when you debut, it’ll be a complete surprise.

Today, you thought it would just another day in the PC. But soon after arriving, you were proven wrong.

You’re doing some weights when you start feeling observed. So you stop your motions, and look behind you.

Only to find Sheamus in the exact same spot, with the exact same look on his face, just like two months ago. Surprisingly though, after a couple of seconds, and after an awkward stare down, he walks up to you.

“What are you doing here?” He asks somewhat nervously.

“Uh… hello to you too.” You mumble, gazing down at your feet. “I’m working out…”

“Yeah, I noticed… but why here?” You can tell he had absolutely no clue you’d be here. He looks distressed, nervous, but a lot surprised too. Maybe he secretly hates you. It sure does look like it.

“I, uh… I got a developmental contract, so yeah, I’m working out here.”

“Wait, you were hired?”

“Yep.”

“That son of a bitch…” He mutters, thinking about Cesaro and how he never mentioned you getting a contract, and also how he tricked him into going to the PC because it’d be  a ‘calmer place’. Unfortunately, you can’t quite figure out what he said. “Well, congratulations.” He adds, simply.

“Thanks…” You sigh. Then, you try to contain yourself but you just couldn’t. “I’m sorry if I bother you. You don’t have to put up with me. I’ll just stay over here, quiet in my corner.”

Sheamus mentally punched himself in the face a thousand times when those words left your lips.

“You don’t bother me. I mean, you do. But not bother bother, you know. Well, uh, I-” He’s rambling, but stops for a few seconds to gather his thoughts when he sees your brows furrowed in confusion. “You do bother me, but in a different way… a good one.”

“Is there a good way to bother someone?”

For the first time, he looked at you right in the eye.

You honestly don’t know how long you stood there just looking at each other… just taking each other in properly. It’s Sheamus’ voice in a smooth, gentle tone that snaps you out of it.

“Shit, she really is beautiful.” He whispers, but you knew you weren’t meant to hear it.

“W-what?”

“Fuck. I said that shit out loud, didn’t I?” You nod, as you notice the blush creeping up his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I mean, you are beautiful. At least I think you are beautiful. I just didn’t mean to say it out loud, you know, because it’s probably creepy that I just said that to you and-“

“Hey, stop.” You place the palm of your hand over chest as you speak. “It’s ok.” He somehow looked more relaxed after that small gesture. “I appreciated it, thank you. And for the record, I think you’re beautiful too.”

“Ha, beautiful. That’s the first time I’m hearing that one. Well, second, but my mom doesn’t count.” He jokes, followed by a genuine, light chuckle.

“Maybe you haven’t heard it, but it’s still true.” You smile gently, watching as his face grew serious. He looked intently at you, as if studying you, your features.

“Would you like to… I don’t know, grab some coffee with me?” He offers, scratching the back of his neck, nervously. “Only if you want, of course. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I understand, it’s-“

“I’d love to.” You cut his rambles off once again, smiling widely.

“Really?” His face was still serious, and it genuinely broke your heart to see that he actually doubted that you’d agree to go out with him so easily.

“Really. I’d absolutely love it.”

“Ok, then… we’re set.”

“I’ll give you my number, so we can arrange the time and place.”

The smile on his face is so genuine and wide, it made your heart flutter in your chest. You watched as he typed his number down on your phone. He looked lighter, happier. You don’t know why, but something about him told you that this man would be a very big part of your life.

You texted Sheamus that night, you just couldn’t stop yourself. And he replied. So sweetly.

It’s been almost a month since that day, and you’ve texted back and forth every day, and about everything. You’ve became really close. But that coffee date hasn’t happened yet.

But tonight... tonight, the text you were longing for, finally arrives.

“Tomorrow, coffee? I’ll pick you up at 8.”

PART 2???? Also, wanna get tagged? Let me know.

[rustedsteele]

Dabble: In The End

// I am reposting the dabble as a post so I can link through to it. It is under the read more. 

The penthouse had been quiet that day. As yet Sephyr had only seen the nurse, checking in on his as she did every single morning. His shallow breathing served as the only sound in the room and in that moment he desperately wished he could reach the radio by the window. He groaned slightly at the thought of even trying to get up, his head lulling against the soft pillow at the top of the hospital-grade bed. His cool blue eyes feel shut as he took a long breath in. He hadn’t been sure until the week before that it was time, but it most certainly was. He couldn’t walk on his own, this was no kind of life.

Sephyr Steele had made the decision a week ago to end his life. He had first approached his long-time friend, Baxter and explained that if he wasn’t able to get out of bed under his own power, he did not want to continue living. As if by instinct Baxter had tried to talk him out of it, but relented at the sight of pain in the Rock Star’s eyes. He truthfully looked as though he had already given up and in truth, he had. Eventually Baxter agree, allowing him to choose the way in which he would like to go. Sephyr opted for an overdose on his former drug of choice, as he did not qualify for assisted suicide. Baxter agreed to allow it, if Sephyr could keep his name away from it. The Rock Star of course already had a source, so a date was set.

It was that morning that he had wondered to himself if he really was ready. In only a few short moment his friends and family would arrive to say their good byes and Sephyr could feel the anxiety building in his chest at the thought. He had never been one for good byes. They did not sit well with him. He knew of course that he owed this to them. At the very least he owed them the chance to say good bye to him. Closure for some, like Finn and Baxter. Those were the two he looked forward to the least. Despite the doubt, he knew he was indeed ready. Letting go now, on his terms. The best ending Sephyr could have asked for.

As he thought to himself, he almost failed to notice the front door opening. From where his bed had been moved he couldn’t see the door, but he suspected that it was the sound of Baxter letting everyone inside. It was about that time. He had sent out text messages, letting everyone know he needed to see the ‘one last time’. Everyone of course knew that it meant. He had been kinder to Finn, explaining it in person. The twenty-one year old had taken it better than Sephyr had expected. His son knew that the old man would never survive being bed ridden anyway. As the footsteps and low chatter approached the door, he tipped the bed up into a sitting position, slightly ashamed of how weak he looked now.

The first figure to step through the open bedroom door was of course Finn. The young sandy-blond man stepped up beside his father’s bed, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “Hey pop.” He muttered out, sadness clearly ringing through his tone. No one wanted to know that the moment they left, their parent was going to die. Truthfully, the Rock Star understood.

“Hey Kiddo.” He replied somewhat weakly, reaching over to pat the younger man on the shoulder. “Gonna be alright?”

“About as alright as anyone here.” Finn explained, gesturing to the surprising crowd of people who had gathered around the bed. Some with moderate success, being pushed to the fringe of the crowd. “Bet you didn’t think everyone would show.”

“Seems silly.” Sephyr hummed. “All you fuckers takin’ time out t’ come down an’ say good bye to this old ass washout.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Came a voice from the foot of the bed, and Sephyr glanced over to look at the source. Sawyer Thulus.

“Oh don’t worry. I will.” Sephyr laughed. Sawyer seemed much less amused.

“Dude, are you for real? Don’t.” The security guard’s eyes moved to the sheets at the end of the bed and very suddenly, Sephyr felt terrible.

“Sorry.” He muttered out as the rest of the group closed in.

“So how is this going to work.” The ever realistic voice of Baxter came. “Because I’d hazard a guess that Sephyr would like to keep this a brief as possible.”

“I would.”

“Very good, sir. Please select someone to-“

“Baxter?” Sephyr interrupted.

“Sir?”

“If you could, because this is my last day and all, just- just not call me Sir?”

“Oh course, Mr. Steele.” The Valet said, a cheeky grin on his face.

“You fuck.” Sephyr muttered. “Just for that you’re going first.”

“As you say, Sephyr.” The reply was much warmer than his obvious jab at his former employer. As the Valet stepped to the edge of the bed, Finn stepped aside. Sephyr intended to leave his son until last, because he had some very serious things to say to him. Although he did for Baxter as well. The Valet sighed lightly, a hand moving to rest on his friend’s arm. “It has been good, hasn’t it?”

“In the end.” Sephyr said, taking a deep breath and moving his hand to rest on top of Baxter’s. “There are so many things I wanna say Bax…. But there’s not enough time.” He watched the Valet nod knowingly. Some he already knew, of course. “I’m so sorry, for the things I did to you. For the scar on your head, for the scar on your arm, for the mental issues. I’m sorry you spent like ten year worryin’ about me tryin’ t’ kill myself. You always told me that my life was actually remarkable, an’ you were right. I let a lot of it go t’ waste an’ I dragged you into it. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be.” His Valet replied. “I’d do it again, to be honest.”

Sephyr laughed a hollow, unbelieving laugh. “Thanks, but yuh don’t have t’ be nice t’ me right before I die.” He shook his head lightly before he felt Baxter squeeze his arm slightly.

“I am not.” He remarked plainly.

“Thank you.” Sephyr hummed. “I- I’m so glad you met Victoria. I’m so glad she’s breakin’ down those walls. I made yuh build up some walls that I’m bettin’ she’s still strugglin’ with. Not t’ mention your parents.” He cast his eyes to the side. “I want you to know that I love you. Like a brother. You were there for me when no one else was. For everything you did for me, thank you.”

“You are very welcome, Sephyr.”

“I’m leaving you a quarter of the money.” Sephyr told him “So don’t be shocked when you read the will. Oh, and the BMW. And whatever you want out of the mansion, I’m sure Finn won’t mind.”

The valet regarded Sephyr with a sad smile. “Very good, sir.”

As Baxter stepped back, Sephyr resisted the urge to allow tears to form. He hated this sort of thing. Baxter had been his best and most loyal friend, there was so much more to say. He had said other things in letters, letters they would get some days after he had died. Finn, Sawyer, Baxter and Lily would all get letters, things he knew he’d never be able to say in a setting like this. At least they would know how he really felt.

With Baxter out of the way, Sephyr motioned to Sawyer. The security guard looked unsire as he edged around the room, pushing some of the hair from his eyes. “Sorry, need a damn cut.”

“I like it long.” Sephyr said quietly, curling the hand farthest from Sawyer into the sheets. “Ohhh boy.”

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly.” The man hummed lightly. “I’m shit at these.”

“Me to.” Sephyr laughed lightly, looking away for a moment to take in a breath. “Listen, Sawyer. You already know some of the things I wanna say. You were the best head of security I could have asked for. Yuh did your job better than anyone ever could have. Yuh took a damn bullet for me, man.”

“In the chest.” Sawyer nodded. “Best thing I ever did to be honest.”

“No no no.” Sephyr laughed, shaking his head. “Woulda been better the other way. But you did it and I’ve always been grateful. You kept me safe more times than I could count an’ you were lookin’ out for Bax and Finn to. I hope whatever you decide t’ do next is exactly what you need t’ keep movin’. I left the other quarter of the money t’ you.” He offered a small smile.

“Really?” Sawyer seemed rather shocked by that notion. “Why?”

“Consider it your severance.” The Rock Star chuckled lightly. “You’re one of my best friends, of course I’m leavin’ you money. I’d leave you a car but yuh don’t drive so-. Take stuff outta the mansion if yuh want. And make sure you hold onto Anna. She loves you.”

“I’ll do my best, boss.” Sawyer tried to smile, but it was clear this was an uncomfortable moment for him. “I’ll see you in hell, eh?”

“Seventh Circle for us both.”

“Oh no.” Sawyer beamed. “I’m takin’ the throne!”

“Good lad.” Sephyr grinned back at him, watching him step aside.

When Sephyr looked around, he certainly had to think carefully about who to select next. Out of the group around his bed he chose his sister, Lillian. She moved around the crowd to stand at her brother’s beside, her arm on his shoulder. She was older than Sephyr ever wanted to see her, her grey hair masked only by her hair dye. Certainly she looked good for her age, but that didn’t change the fact that she was nearly sixty. His sweet, baby sister was almost sixty years old.

“Lily I-“ He sighed as she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly as she began to cry. “Hey now, you’re not the one dying today.”

“No, but I’m the one watching my brother die.” She said as she stood up straight, looking deep into his eyes with her own hazel orbs. “And we barely knew each other.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say that. I came to your shows, you avoided mine. I came to New York and you invaded my Mansion twice a year. I knew who your friends were, you knew some of mine. We knew each other as well as any siblings ever do.”

“But we lost so much time because of-“

“Lily please. Don’t even bring him up.” Sephyr looked sad, angry and ashamed in the same breath. “Please, not today. I need one day where I’m not thinkin’ about him and the shit he did.”

“I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I just wish things had been different.”

“We all do, but that’s not how life goes. I’m glad yuh tracked me down. I’m glad yuh came t’ find me, that I got t’ know you when we were adults. I’m proud of the person you are, the person you became. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were little, but its better I wasn’t. I left you a car, and a bit of money when the mansion is sold, if it’s sold. If not, I’m sure Finn’ll throw you a bone somewhere.” He smiled and patted Lily on the head. “I love you, little sister.”

“I love you too, big brother. I love you so much.”

As Lily stepped away she did not stop at the edge of the crowd like the others head. Instead she stepped right out of the bedroom into the sitting room. Sephyr sighed lightly, knowing she was going to cry. Shockingly, he was thankful she had left. If she’d been balling right next to him, he would have started. He turned his head from the doorway, calling Murry over to him. As soon as the other man was in range, he punched him square in the arm.

“Ow!” The manager howled. “Dude, how do you still punch that hard?”

“I was savin’ it for you.” He replied with a laugh. “One more for old time sake. I’m gonna miss your ugly ass.”

“Funny I was going to say the same thing.” Murry ran a hand over the sore spot on his shoulder. “Now I’m going to have a bruise to remember you by!”

“A bruise, a car, a couple guitars, whatever the kids want out of the mansion. You know, the shit I promised you.”

“Oh what, no money for me?” Murry joked. “Fuck you man.”

“Fuck you too, ass hole.” The tone Sephyr spoke those words in was almost warm, welcoming. The two had been friends for so long, this was the only way they knew to communicate. Anything else would have been wrong. “Good bye, Murry. Was a hell of a ride.”

“Keep ridin’.” Murry replied, leaning down to hug his old friend, holding him for just a moment before he let go. “I love you, you little shit.”

“I love you too, you giant fuck-knuckle.”

Before Sephyr had a chance to call over his next victim, there was a loud knock at the front door. With a puzzled expression, Baxter stepped away from the group as if by instinct. He moved along passed the sobbing woman on the sofa, opening the front door. There was something of a gasp as Baxter drew in breath, stepping aside with a quick “Of course, come in.”

In the bedroom doorway Sephyr could see a man he never expected to show up, even at his deathbed. Roy McCormik stood with a bouquet of flowers. He set them at the foot of the bed, stepping over and placing a hand on Sephyr’s shoulder. “I didn’t know what else to bring.”

“Yourself is more than fine.” Sephyr said with a note of shock. “What the hell are you doin’ here?”

“What does it look like? I’m saying good bye to an old friend. “ Roy tried to smile, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it.

“Oh.” Sephyr managed, a clear hint of sadness in his tone. “I’m glad to see you.”

“I’m so sorry, Sephyr.” Roy said after a moment. “We should have had more time- We should have been better friends.”

“I was the bad friend, Roy.” Sephyr admitted readily. “I tore us all apart. I was never good for anyone, not till I got help. You got away from me an’ lived a great life. Be proud of that. We had some good times durin’ tours. You were always the level headed one.” Sephyr’s hand moved to close around his old friend’s hand. “Thanks for coming Roy. I’m so sorry, for everything.”

“I couldn’t just not come.” The older man sighed. “You are my friend. I’ll miss you. I’m… I’m sorry too.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

The look exchanged between the two of them spoke volumes about the issues they’d had. It was a look of guilt, of sadness, of regret; but a look of caring. Roy was torn apart and Sephyr looked as though he might just break down. Their hands lingered together, clear and untold secrets between them. The ending of a chapter never explored. As Roy took his step back, Sephyr almost didn’t want to let go. He did, in the end, calling both Victoria and Anna to his side. As both girls stepped to either side of his bed, both took one of his hands. He met both of their eyes, squeezing each hand in turn.

“Hey girls.”

“Hey.” Both replied, a laugh on either set of lips, followed by another laugh between the two.

“Anna.” Sephyr started, turning to face her. “I have so much t’ thank you for. You were my beard, an’ you never jidged or even considered takin’ it to the press. I have loved you since we got together.” He chuckled lightly. “An’ I’m so glad you have Sawyer. You were the best beard I ever had.”

“You’re welcome, honey.” Anna replied in her southern drawl. “I loved every minute.”

“I’m sorry, for the things you had to see. I’m sorry for-“

“Don’t.” she shook her head, running her hand through his hair. “I’d do it again and love it just as much knowin’ what was happenin’. I love you. We all love you. Don’t tell me you’re sorry for making us.”

Sephyr was quiet for a moment, pausing when Anna leaned down to brush their lips together for a very brief moment. “I think you deserve rest more than anyone else I know.”

Tears finally rolled down Sephyr’s cheeks as he reached out to hug Anna, a shaky sigh on his lips. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, love.”

As they pulled away, Sephyr wiped tears from his eyes, turning to look at Victoria. The woman standing on his other side was also crying and at that sight, Sephyr’s heart shattered. “Oh come on now.” He managed to get out. “Pretty girl like you, cryin’ over some old codger like me?”

“Shut up.” Victoria snapped almost playfully. “I’ll cry if I want to.”

“S’not your party.” Sephyr said, making a musical joke. There was a long silence between the two of them before Victoria leaned down and wrapped her arms around the older man. He in turn wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you, for everything.”

“My pleasure, old man.” She replied, pausing to draw in a long and shaking breath. “It was so worth it.”

“I’m sorry for the things you had to see when you came.” He said quietly. “And thank you so much for looking after Baxter. Please don’t let ‘em get to sad about this shit. Ain’t worth i- OW.” He howled, head shooting back to look at Victoria, who’s hand had just grazed the top of his head.

“You’re worth it.” She stated very clearly, everyone around her nodding. You changed lives, Sephyr. You changed a lot of lives.  Everyone here’s going to miss you so much. Please, for once, give yourself that much credit.”

Sephyr was crying again, his hands moving to his face to hide it for that moment. It felt so good, so right, that at least some of the people in his life had seen him, for him. He had never felt validation like that. His hands dropped and his arms wrapped around himself. His eyes met every set in that room, a genuine and sincere smile on his features. “God, I love all of you so much.”

There was a round of ‘we love you too’s’ and a last hug from Victoria before she stepped away too, rejoining her husband. Baxter, who had been standing next to their daughter, ushered the girl forward. The teenager looked a little unsure of how to approach this situation, her black hair falling in front of her beautiful blue eyes. She stood next to the bed, looking up at her ‘uncle’.

“Hello Iris.”

“Hey uncle Seph.” She said, looking down. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Me neither, kid.” Sephyr said slowly. “But sometimes, this is for the best. You don’t wanna see your uncle bedridden for years, do yuh?”

“Ew. No. You’d hate that.” She had the same look of disgust her father had perfected over the years.

“Then come and give me a hug.” He extended his arms, which she folded herself into readily. “I love you, Iris. I’m so proud of the woman you’re becoming. Listen to your father. He’ll be there for you when you need him most.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Seph. I’ll keep him safe.” She said quietly, knowingly. She was wise beyond her years. “You can rest.”

“Thanks Iris.” He replied, holding her just a little tighter for a moment. “And don’t you dare let anyone tell you you’re not amazing.”

“Dang right!” She beamed as she pulled back. “I’m Sephyr Steele’s niece!” She giggled, kissed Sephyr on the cheek and trotted back over to her father. She really was one of the smartest children Sephyr had ever met.

And then came the time to say good bye to two of the people he was dreading saying it to. To his left he could see Ellis, waiting patiently to be called on. Sephyr reached out, silently calling the actor to him. As Ellis moved to his side, Sephyr didn’t even speak. He pulled the other man down to himself, tightly wrapping his arms around him. Ellis hugged him back and there were tears on both sides. There was hardly any noise in that moment, both understanding what the other meant just by the urgency in which they held each other. Brothers who had been torn apart and who had almost not recovered. They loved each other so much, but Sephyr’s issues had certainly gotten in the way. As they pulled back from each other, Sephyr didn’t wait for Ellis to speak.

“I’m sorry, and don’t you dare interrupt.” He said quickly. “I’m sorry for telling you I hated you. I’m sorry for not talkin’ t’ you for twenty years. I’m sorry the band broke up, that you’re still alone, that you had to hire someone to loo kafter me. I love you, you are my brother. I’m so fucking sorry you had to deal with all my shit.” He sighed.

“And I’m sorry I outted you.” Ellis replied. “We are both to blame, my brother.” Ellis’ hand moved to the other’s shoulder to squeeze. “The ending to a truthfully amazing man. And what an ending. Your terms, your choice. Exactly what you needed.” The Englishmen smiled down at his long-time friend. “Mom and Dad would be proud.”

“I hope so.” Sephyr looked away. “I miss them, so much.”

“They missed you too, Sephyr. And with any luck, maybe we’ll all see each other again.”

“Who knows.” Sephyr chuckled as Ellis leaned down to look him directly in the eyes.

“I do.” The actor smiled, leaning forward and kissing his best friend, his brother, a man he loved so on the cheek, stepping back. “I love you, very much, Sephyr. And please, when you pass him on the way out, tell Kyle I miss him too.”

“I’ll make sure he gets the memo.” Sephyr said with an almost barking laugh through his own tears. He could feel his heart breaking again. This day was full of that. “He’d miss you too, Ellis Simpkins.”

“Thank you.” Ellis said after a moment. They lingered near to each other for a moment before Ellis stepped away, unable to keep himself from tearing up again any longer. He stepped to the back of the crowd, his misty eyes turned away from the dying man in the bed.

Sephyr knew now who he would have to say good bye too. Finn was the last one there, the last one who needed to say his good byes. The sharp breath he drew in spoke volumes for his dread as he watched all the others who had come to see him drift away from his bed to stand at the end of it. Finn was left standing right next to his father, eyes locked on the older man.

“Do you have to?” He asked, voice almost strangled with the possibility of tears. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

“Exactly what you do with me.” Sephyr told him, reaching out to take his hand. “Finn.. We’ve known a long time I wasn’t gonna be around forever.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I’m ready to lose my dad.”                

“I know. I’m not really ready to lose my son either.” He sighed lightly, reaching out for his son. Finn curled into his arms, face buried in the older man’s chest. “But I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of who you are, of what you choose to do with your time, of how generous you are. You’re the best kid a Dad could have asked for.”

“That’s your fault.” Finn cried, tears running down his face. “And I;m not going to be the same without you.”

“You will be.” Sephyr assured him. “You’ve overcome worse than this. I’m just a chapter. You’ve got the resta your life ahead of you. Don’t let me drag yuh down. Go out, help people, do the things you do best. An’ whatever you do, don’t you ever give up music an’ art. I love your art.”

“I promise.” Finn replied. “I promise…”

Sephyr moved to that Finn was held at the end of his arms, a space between them so that Sephyr could look him right in the eyes. “I love you, my boy. I love you so much. You’re my world. I’m proud to have been your father. I’m sorry for some of the things you saw, I’m sorry I wasn’t always the best. But you’re amazing, an’ I have no regrets about taking you on. Please, don’t remember me for this. Bein’ stuck in a bed all day?”

“No.” Finn promised, leaning forward to press his forehead to his father’s. “I’m going to remember you in the Firebird, heading god knows were to do something amazing. Because I’m proud of you too, Dad. You worked so hard to become the man you’ve been for the last fourteen years. I love you so much.”

Sephyr hugged his son again, holding him for a long time as the two cried together. It was one of the hardest things the men and women around Sephyr had ever had to watch, the last good bye between a son and father who shared so many Things. The last moments of a family who found each other when both needed it most. The passing of an epic chapter in the universe.

“Chin up, kiddo.” Sephyr said after a while, Finn sitting up from where he’d curled himself. “It’s almost time.”

“I know.” Finn told the older man. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’m going to miss you to.” Sephyr said slowly. “But I’ll be around. Tones of music t’ hear me in.”

They shared a long look, the last in their good byes as Finn slid off of the bed, standing beside his father. Each person who had said their good byes moved back to the bed to give Sephyr one last long hug. When the rounds were finished and he’d managed to make himself let go of Finn, he watched everyone file out of the apartment. Eventually, when everyone had left, it was just himself and Baxter in the silence of the room. The only sound was Sephyr, a quiet crying from the bed. Baxter let out a low sigh, standing next to his very good friend.

“Are you ready?” The Valet asked, a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

“I dunno.” Sephyr said quietly through the tears. “Thought I was… but that was hard as hell.”

“As you knew it would be, sir.”

“You’re right.” Sephyr cried. “You’re always fuckin’ right.”

“Just as you say.” Baxter said quietly, a small glistening of tears on his own cheeks. “I will miss being right about your life.”

“And I’ll miss you bein’ right.”

Baxter set a small case on the bed in front of Sephyr. “As requested, as provided.” He said slowly. “Your poison of choice.”

“S’weird havin’ you offer it.”

“I would imagine.” Baxter’s tone was flat, almost monotone. “You’ll forgive me. I am just not looking forward to this.”

“Please go.” Sephyr said as he busied himself preparing the massive dose of his former vice. “You don’t need to see me this way.”

“I want to.” Baxter assured him. “A man like you shouldn’t die alone. You were alone much too long already.”

“You have always been too kind to me, Baxter. Just promise this isn’t what you’re gonna remember.”

“No.” Baxter hummed. “The man I will remember is the man who saved my life after only knowing me nine months. That is the man I shall remember fondly.”

“Thank you Baxter.” Sephyr said, tying off his own arm.

When the moment arrived, Sephyr readied himself to let go. He reflected on his life to that point, on the remarkable things he had done through his seventy-one years. It really had been so much better than he’d let it be and while he regretted so much of it there was so much he had enjoyed. He’d met his idols, he’d been mentioned in the same breath as them. He’d made some amazing friends along the way, he’d fallen in love so many times. He’d changed so many lives. In truth, despite everything, he was very proud of himself. In the end of everything, it had been a good life.

“Can yuh hit the music, Bax?” Sephyr asked as he rested the end of the needle against his skin.

The Valet stepped over to the radio, pressing the play button on the CD player. In an instant the sound of Queen;s ‘Who Wants to Live Forever’ rang out through the quiet penthouse, Sephyr’s body relaxing against the pillow on the bed. “I’m ready.” He finally said, his eyes lingering on Baxter. “Thank you, for staying.

“Of course, Sephyr. I would not miss it.”

As he pushed the plunger into the syringe in his arm, he reached out to take Baxter’s hand and held it tightly in his own. He could feel the drugs taking effect, the swimming in his head. Soon he would black out and death would take him quietly. The amount he had taken was much too much for his body or mind to survive. It would kill him, quickly. As the swimming got more and more intense, he settled properly, his eyes sliding shut.

“Good bye, my friend. My brother. Good Bye, Baxter.”

“Good bye, sir.”

As the darkness of death overtook him, there was the slightest smile on his face. A man finally at peace.

[prettiestcaptain]

Hi there! I'm sorry if I'm bothering, but I was in the Band Of Brothers tag and saw that one of your gifsets (the one with the episode titles and stuff) had been reposted by an account named routesixtiethree. I'm not entirely sure if I can send a copyright thing to Tumblr so they take it down when I'm not the creator, so I thought I'd let you know instead so that you can do it yourself.

oh, god dammit, thank you for telling me, I am honestly so done with the reposters on this site, I thought I was safe in the HBO War fandom, but clearly nowhere is safe

they didn’t even post that gifset right, what a joke