#told him he had needles and knives at home and maybe had some in his pockets

[lululawrence]

X

[knivestothroats]

ITWS/ProVic Crossover Event Of The Century (part 2)

This is a crossover of In The Woods Somewhere by me and Professional//Victim by @victimeyez. Read part 1 here. Content warnings: Captivity, torture (beating, scratching, electricity, needles, knives, burning, strangling, stress positions, very mild eye stuff like not even gore)

"To demonstrate his uses tonight, Ladies and Gentlemen, we will invite a very special guest on stage. Please give a round of applause for Fletcher!" Caius led the applause, bearing the grin of the cat who ate the canary.

Fletcher raised their eyebrows. Those who knew them by name turned to them expectantly. 

Fletcher didn't like Caius' expression. It was too smug. He clearly thought he was winning some one-sided battle. Fletcher didn't want to play into his hand. But at the same time, refusing to take the stage, while maybe disappointing Caius, wouldn't paint Fletcher as the stronger of wills, only as too timid to perform for a crowd. Fletcher wasn't shy, and they wouldn't be seen as such. They threw back the rest of their drink and set it on the nearest table. Time to show everyone how it's done.

Fletcher walked confidently up the steps, passing Rory and Michelle with a nod. They stopped in front of Caius and folded their arms, waiting.

“You and Tommy seemed to be making a connection, I thought you should do the honors," Caius told them with a smirk. He waved a hand towards the table where the Cradle sat, surrounded by a variety of other painful-looking tools and implements. "Dealer's choice. Enjoy."

So he was that type of crazy. Fletcher took off their jacket, eliciting a few wolf whistles from the crowd, and thrust it into Caius's chest for him to take. They began to roll up their sleeves as they studied their options laid out on the table. "What are the limits?"

“Avoid arteries, for today. Or tendons. We have to bring him home alive, and in roughly one piece. Nothing severe on the vitals. Oh, and leave the hair, I'm growing it out. We just have to go a little easier than usual today. Arrangements can always be made for more later. But have fun. Take what moves you."

He spoke about the prone man with a wink and a little tongue-in-cheek. He was very comfortable in this space.

(Fuck.) Tommy watched as Fletcher made their way towards the stage. He had hoped for a reprieve after the Cradle, but it looked like he was about to be fed right to the wolves. This particular wolf had touched his face, had spoken to him, had almost felt like a real human interaction, but it had been a long time since he had found a connection that wasn't inspired by brutality. When he looked at Fletcher, he saw someone who tortured for their pleasure more than any dollar amount their clients could pay. This was someone who would take their time, who wanted lots of begging and crying and pleading for them to ignore. Maybe he could tough it out for the first minutes, see if he could earn some leniency with the groveling then. If he started right away, he wasn't sure they would be satisfied. His face flushed with shame as he watched them picking an instrument with care. He looked out at the crowd and saw the eager patrons hungry for a show. To be eaten alive by the wolf to the sound of a cheering audience, and all he could do was beg. He let one dry sob from deep in his chest, and waited for the worst.

Scalpel, box cutter, pliers, claw hammer, extendable baton. Fletcher picked up a cattle prod and tested it, facing the crowd. They saw Tommy flinch out of the corner of their eye at the crackle. Fletcher turned toward him, prod down at their side. Tommy looked up at them, head still sagging. There was no accusation in his features. He was merely resigned, like he knew this was coming. 

"Well-" his name got caught on their tongue. They pushed past it. "Tell us what we want to know." 

Fletcher jammed the prod against Tommy's ribs and lit it up. Tommy's body seized and he let loose a strangled scream.

"Does that hurt more or less than the cradle?" they asked when they granted him reprieve. 

Tommy took deep, rattling breaths. "Less. The cradle - hurts more."

Fletcher put their hands out to the crowd, as if to say, "How 'bout that, folks?" The audience cheered. They raised an eyebrow at Caius and tossed the cattle prod to the table. 

Fletcher loosened their tie, pulling it completely off. They wrapped the ends around their hands, and wrapped the middle around Tommy’s throat, standing behind him so the audience would get a good view of his face.

“No, no, no, wait, wait…” Tommy began to babble in a small, pitiful voice.

Caius stepped forward and leaned in to mutter to Fletcher, “Short intervals.”

“I’m a professional,” Fletcher whispered back.

Fletcher drew their hands apart, cinching the tie around Tommy’s throat. He let out a series of shallow gasps and creaking sounds as his throat struggled to move air through.

Fletcher slacked the tie, giving Tommy room to draw in haggard breaths. They waited a few seconds, then tightened it again.

“Wai-” Tommy’s plea was cut off with a croak. Fletcher extended the strangulation by a few seconds before letting up again. Tommy coughed hard, body rattling, trying to bend forward. Fletcher repeated the process a few times, choking Tommy until his temples pounded like drums and then loosening up enough to let him catch his breath before cinching the tie closed again.

Fletcher began slowly this time, giving Tommy a chance to beg before being cut off.

And beg he did. “Waitwaitplease, I can’t! I can’t go again, just please give me…”

Tommy ran out of time before the tie dug too deep into his throat to get the words out. Fletcher held this one the longest. Tommy began to twitch in his restraints, his legs kicking at the floor below him. 

Was this it? Could he make it through this? Caius would step in if Fletcher was going to kill him, right?

Tommy tried to look to Caius, but black splotches were beginning to cloud his vision.

Just like that, Fletcher let go. 

They unfurled the tie from their hands and unwound it from around his throat. Tommy coughed and hacked until his ribs hurt and spit dangled from his lips. 

Fletcher put both hands on the side of Tommy’s head and lifted it up, tilting it this way and that to examine his face. It was flushed red, verging on purple. His cheeks were dotted with burst blood vessels. The side of one of his eyes was a brilliant shade of bright, bloody red. 

Fletcher let Tommy's head drop. They draped their tie over their shoulders and returned to the table to go over their options. 

Fletcher picked up the box cutter. They extended the blade and turned it over to examine before setting it back down. Reaching into their pocket, they drew their own knife and flipped it open. Fletcher took hold of Tommy's chin and lifted his face to them. They made a cut below his hairline, across the temple. Tommy gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes shut, but didn't make much of a reaction beyond a hiss of pain. 

"I like to start with the face," Fletcher narrated to the audience. "The head bleeds a lot, even if the cut is shallow. Freaks them out, especially when it gets in their eyes. Plus, if you're starting with the face, what are you going to escalate to?" 

As promised, blood was streaming from the cut, running down Tommy's face and dripping off his chin onto his bare chest. He had to keep his eye closed. 

"Forehead bleeds the best, with the veins up there. But as close to the eye as possible is good too." 

They wrenched Tommy's face up further. He struggled to get his legs steady beneath him. Fletcher lined up the tip of the blade with the inside corner of the unbloodied eye. It went wide with fear, eyelids twitching apprehensively as Tommy trembled in their grasp.

"What do you think, Caius?" Fletcher mused, keeping their eyes locked on Tommy. "Your boy said you had one of his limbs reattached. Does that mean I can take out his eye?"

Caius's smile wavered. "Not for free."

Fletcher chuckled softly. They turned the knife abruptly and cut a line down Tommy's cheek instead. Tommy gasped and flinched, but breathed with a certain degree of relief. Fletcher pushed their fingers into his cheeks, causing his lips to purse. Tommy whimpered as Fletcher's hand dug into the fresh cut. 

"You probably want to keep his tongue, too. Let the audience hear him beg. And..." Fletcher flipped the knife in the air, catching it by the handle again. "Was there a rule against stabbing?"

“No vitals - we don’t want to have to end the party so soon.” Caius’s calm composure was a front.

"How deep is too deep? You tell me when." 

Fletcher pressed the tip of the knife under Tommy's clavicle and began to push in. The skin held at first, sinking under the point of the blade until the surface tension finally gave. The first bead of blood pooled as the knife went in ever so slowly. Fletcher kept their hand steady and their eyes fixedly on Caius, waiting for him to break.

Tommy tried to squirm away from the blade, but couldn’t manage much distance before stumbling in the pull of the restraints and pushing it deeper. He whimpered as it bit into him with agonizing patience. "Fuck - it's deep, it's deep enough! Please, please, you don't have to do this!"

Fletcher pulled their attention back to him. 

"Buddy," they said with a smile. "It's barely an inch in."

Tommy groaned as the blade slowly slid deeper, his muscles clenched tight around it from the strain on his arms. Fletcher gently rotated the knife, pushing underneath the bone, and Tommy struggled to stay up on his shaking legs. He was taking forceful deep breaths through his teeth, trying his hardest to stay calm.

Fletcher sank the knife in another inch before Caius cleared his throat and said, “No arteries.”

Fletcher rolled their eyes and blew out a breath. 

“Can’t do anything fun,” they said, pulling the blade back out much quicker than it had gone in. 

Tommy cried out in pain. It was clear he was only upright because of the restraints. Fletcher paced around him. Can’t do the nails through the hand trick in this position, but…

Fletcher reached up to where Tommy’s wrists were suspended and cut along the sides of his wrists, just above the cuffs. Tommy shifted his weight, trying to take pressure off the new wounds, but his arms were stretched as far as they could go, and he didn’t have the strength to hold himself up any higher.

“Cattle prod would work for this,” Fletcher said, examining the tools on the table again. They turned back and pulled a zippo lighter out of their pocket. “But let’s switch it up.”

The only preamble was the grind of the wheel before the flame licked his skin. The heat was sudden and sharp and overwhelming, burning the underside of Tommy’s exposed arm. 

He shrieked and jerked to the side, trying to get as far away from the flame as possible. The cuffs held steady as he pulled against them, only servicing to open the cuts along his wrists wider. 

Blood started trickling down his arms towards his shoulders, ruby rivulets of warm ichor quickly cooling against his pale skin. The burn was agonizing enough to instantly reduce him to tears. The rest of his body started to turn cold and he began to shiver, icy sweat beading on his forehead. Tommy’s head started to swim. (Don’t throw up in front of the crowd, Caius will kill you. Keep it together, don’t pass out.) He ground his teeth together, struggling to stabilize himself. Fletcher let the flame lick up his bicep, finally pausing to let the burn bloom. 

“You don’t - I don’t have anything to give you,” Tommy slurred out. “How much do you have to do to prove yourself?”

Fletcher turned the lighter over in their hands, thinking. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m just putting on a show.” They flicked the lighter on again and drew it dangerously close to Tommy’s eye, letting the flame vanish just before he would start to cook. “You’re the magician's assistant today. You know how to play your part, don’t you?”

Tommy whined as the flame disappeared with a flash. He dropped his head, huffing while he opened and closed his fists to regain feeling. They were uncomfortably numb and swollen, while his wrists pulsed in pain. More blood was oozing its way down his sides now, finally beginning to tacky in the air. Under his arm, a raw stretch of skin had bubbled and started to char in the flame. The burn still felt incredibly hot, radiating a fierce heat as if the lighter was still making his flesh a kindling. 

Caius didn’t usually allow burns, unless he was administering them himself. Usually for cauterization. Usually. Tommy tried to sneak a glance over to Caius without Fletcher noticing - he sensed they very much wanted his attention to themselves for the moment. Caius was leaning back against the table, his face a familiar mask of indifferent amusement. He had perfected it for clients, but Tommy could feel some anxiety radiating off of him. There was an audience, after all. Tommy swallowed hard, his throat dry from gasping for air. 

“I know,” he managed to rasp.

Tommy’s attempt at subtlety failed under Fletcher’s sharp watch. Their eyes tracked his gaze to Caius, who had a carefully casual look that his eyes betrayed. A touch too tense around the edges, at the corners of the mouth. 

“Good,” Fletcher told Tommy, as they refocused on one another. “Because for my next trick,” they held up their pocket knife, flicking the blade open with a satisfying click. “-I’m going to make this knife disappear.”

Fletcher arced their arm down and drove the blade into Tommy’s thigh. 

It took a moment to register. The pain was like a ringing in the back of his ears, it took a moment to even realize where the signal was coming from. Just, pain, ow, bad. Just like Michelle's little speech, his body lit up in alarm. (DANGER. WE ARE IN DANGER.)

His leg jerked back in surprise, pulling the knife out just enough for it to start pouring blood. his whole body went stiff, all the fight turning into freeze. His other leg spasmed, straightening like a board to hold as much weight as he could onto one foot. He groaned, and his legs started to tremble. (Shutting down.)

Fletcher sidled up and closed the distance Tommy had formed by pulling away. They wrapped their free arm around his waist to hold him steady, and pushed the knife back in with force.

The rough cry it forced out winded him. It had been a long time since he'd had the touch of a client that really knew what they were doing. The pain started incredibly deep in his thigh, feeling the thick muscle there give way. He had no way of defending himself, his head hanging over in the only way he could curl up. His arms were pinned uselessly above him.

Fletcher pulled their hand away from Tommy's waist and snaked it up his back. They gripped a handful of his hair and pulled his head up. "Smile for the audience," they said in his ear. Then they twisted the knife.

Tommy arched his back in pain, and his weight dropped fully to his wrists. It felt like he was being split up the thigh. His wounded leg kicked out in reflex, once, before dropping like dead meat attached to his hip.

Caius was there in a flash, touching Tommy's shoulder. "That concludes your free trial."

Fletcher gave a single, easy nod and retracted the blade with a much more gentle hand. Not that pulling out a knife was ever painless. They wiped the blade off on Tommy's skin before closing and returning it to their pocket.

"You seemed to enjoy yourself. Will you be a client in the future?"

"Generally I get paid to torture people, not the other way around," Fletcher said. They eyed Tommy's limp form as he twitched in pain. "But then again, I make enough money to indulge in vices and now then. Who knows? Are you still going to be watching over my shoulder if I pay?"

“Yes,” Caius said firmly. “Have to protect the investment.”

Fletcher made a noncommittal noise. They didn't offer much else, just took their jacket back and walked off stage. The crowd began to disperse back to intermingling groups, people chatting and laughing and sipping cocktails. 

Fletcher paused to watch Caius address Tommy's leg. He had produced a med kit and packed the wound with a white powder before wrapping it in gauze. Tommy's only reaction was a slight grimace. His eyes mostly remained closed. 

The other wounds were deemed less crucial. Caius cut Tommy loose from the restraints and tossed him over his shoulder to cart off. 

Fletcher sorted through their feelings. 

Caius was petty and insecure, jealous in some way that Fletcher had interacted with Tommy despite willingly leaving them alone together. He had hoped to gain something from calling Fletcher on stage, whether it was to embarrass them or pit them against Tommy in order to destroy whatever relationship he was afraid of them developing. Fletcher wasn't sure what he wanted to happen, but they didn't like being played. Maybe they had gone overboard trying to get Caius to say uncle, embarrass himself in front of the crowd by having to walk back on the business model of you can do whatever you want to him, but honestly, Fletcher had done worse to others. Far worse. But it didn't matter if the others stayed in one piece, usually. 

Tommy was innocent, probably. Or if he had done something to cross Caius and the others, he had to have paid for it a dozen times over by now. But it wasn't beneficial to Fletcher to care about deserved. Deserved was a matter of opinion. All they needed was a matter of payment.

But Tommy was... fun? Intriguing. He had developed an impressive skill for reading people, surely so he could give the clients exactly what they wanted as quickly as possible. "Make dreams come true," as Caius had put it. 

He was also so well trained, while still not being a mindless marionette. He screamed, he begged, he bargained, he complied, he said he was perfect for this. 

Fletcher wanted to pick him apart, or at least have a long conversation with him. They also wanted to make him whimper and tremble again. And bleed. They really enjoyed making him bleed. 

But they didn't want Caius hovering the whole time. And they didn't want to invite any of them to their home. 

They glanced at their watch. There was time for another drink. And who knows - maybe their performance would help them make some contacts before the night was out.

@victimeyez @lonesome--hunter @desert-dyke @coldresolve @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @suspicious-whumping-egg @whatwasmyprevioususername @whump-only @misspelledwitch @redstainedsocks @thehopelessopus @im-just-here-for-the-whump @thatsthewhump @aqua-blogging  @utopian819 @bloodinthemud @pretty-face-breaker @cursedandtired @morning-star-whump

[v-love]

Tissues and Blood (Last Part)

(Dandy x GN!Reader)

Request: “heyy! so, i was thinking about a short fic where the reader is concerned about dandy’s sudden sneezing and allergic reaction through the past few days and the both find out it’s actually dandy’s dust allergies seeing as dora hasn’t been cleaning anything for our infamous man child just to spite him? I THOUGHT OF THIS RANDOMLY AND I THINK IT COULD BE RLLY CUTE? though poor dora when she gets caught though 💀”

This is the last part! I hope you guys enjoyed this mini series!! I definitely think this is my best writing yet and I wish my other two were better but that’s alright!

Warnings: Fear, mentions of blood, torture (specifically being kept in the cold, needles (sewing), mentions of knives, mentions of murder, oblivious reader, major character death implied.

Images/GIFS are not mine.

As the rain falls and the animals hide in their homes, the cold air sweeps through the town. It leaks through windows and doors of any home. Even though it was raining, people were still out and about doing their daily errands it simply just spending time with the people they love. It was interesting to say the least when Dandy assured you that he’d be fine without you the next day. He had told you that Dora needed the next week off to recover from her “worsening cold” as he described it. You didn’t think much of it since Dora had taken time off to recover from previous sicknesses.

You smile and kiss Dandy’s cheek, gently holding his face in your warm hands. “Are you sure you’ll be alright alone? I can stay home today if you want me to.” You say, your eyes shining with affection as you look up at him. “Yes my love, I can handle myself. Please be careful outside though. It’s still raining…” he says as he leans into your touch. “And anyways, I can just watch television. I haven’t been able to since I’ve had the difficulties with the allergies.” His hands come up to hold yours, kissing your knuckles gently while looking at your flushed face.

You laugh a bit and nod. “That is true. You’re awfully affectionate today…it’s adorable.” You say as you take your raincoat off of the hanger. “I’ll see you for dinner alright? Maybe I’ll bring something, don’t rely on it though.” Heading out the door and into your car under the soft rain, Dandy watches you with a smile. As you drive away, you let out a happy sigh. Thinking about how Dandy looks and must be feeling better, made you quite giddy. You make your way to work happily and quite relaxed, being innocently unaware as to what was happening in your home.

Dandy’s sweet smile fades into a sinister one, closing and locking the door. He makes his way up the stairs, thinking of all the ways he would want Dora to pay for her “sins”. Meticulously, he does his hair and shaved his face, making sure to look dashing. His hands gently smooth out his favorite shirt, adjusting the way out looked on his shoulders. Smirking at himself, he then makes his way downstairs. Quickly making himself some food, he finally makes his way outside to the garden. Even though he feels the rain slowly drench him, he stops to smell his favorite flowers. He loved them so much because you loved them, smelled like them, looked like them. The rain starts to fall harder as he makes his way slowly to the shed, his mind slowly losing control over his calm demeanor.

Dora shakes viciously from how cold she was, her lips softly bruised from the cold seeping through the wood of the shed. She knew Dandy was out there and she knew he was going to kill her. She thought about her family, how much she would miss them, how much she loved them, how much she wanted to see them again, even if it was for the last time. Her thoughts were interrupted from the door being pushed open. Her eyes squint from the sudden brightness in the dark shed, looking up. Dandy’s soaking form stands in front of her, breathing heavily from how cold it felt. She starts to cry as he takes slow, agonizing steps towards her.

“Oh no, don’t cry now. It’s too late to try and make me feel guilty.” He says as he leans in, his hot breath slightly warming her cheeks. “You have to pay for your stupidity.” He yanks the gag off of her and watches her cry, pleading as her voice breaks over and over again. “I told you to not scream. I told you no one would hear you. You knew no one would hear you and yet…you still wanted to scream. You did scream.” She watches in horror as a sick smile twists on his face as he grabs hers. “Do you know what I do to people who don’t take my advice? Don’t listen?” Her hot tears spill from her eyes and makes Dandy’s hand glisten a bit more. “I kill them.” He whispers in her ear before pushing her tied down body back, making her fall and hit her head against the back wall of the shed. She lets out a broken groan as Dandy picks her up, carrying her into the house. She loses consciousness as he lays her on the kitchen counter.

Dandy watches as her body loses the little fight it had left. He wanted to start with something simple, shutting her mouth up. He quickly gets his spare sewing kit, making his way back to her while thinking. He hums as he chooses the color for the string he wanted to use. He settles on her favorite color and makes sure the string is strongly attached to the needle. His hands move her hair from her face and he wipes away any tears or blood from her chapped lips. Dandy’s face lightens with a smile as he begins to sew her mouth shut.

Dora suddenly wakes up alone and cold. Her head was pounding and her lips were in pain. When she tries to speak, her lips don’t move and a searing pain shoots through then, making her stop trying. She hears Dandy come in and watches as he smiles in delight. “You’re awake! How wonderful! I wanted to show you how good you look like this!” He moves towards her with a hand held mirror, letting her see herself. Her eyes were red and there were a few gashes on her cheek. As her eyes shift to look at her lips, her breathing stops in shock. Her lips were swollen and sewed shut. Tears well up in her eyes as she looks from the mirror to Dandy. “Isn’t it great? I used your favorite color, though it turned red because of your blood. Nonetheless, you look great!” He smiles brightly at her and pulls out his knife, chucking evilly. “Now it’s time for my favorite part! Where should I start?”

Arriving home, your eyes droop as you walk through the door. “Dandy?” You call out, peeling off your wet shoes and hearing soft footsteps from the stairs. “My love! I missed you!” He says as he dries his shake with a towel. You smile and see how warm her looks in his fluffy robe. “I missed you too, very tired though.” He kisses your forehead and holds you close, warming up your shivering form. “I made dinner and washed up. Why don’t you do the same? You’re so cold.” He suggests and watches you nod, taking your things with you as you walk up the stairs.

Dandy sighs happily as he sets the table, hearing you come back from washing up and dressing warmly. “Did you plant something in the garden? I saw the dirt looking a bit strange when I was looking out the window.” You ask him. “I did! Some new flowers, I think you’ll love them when they grow.” He says as he pulls out your chair before placing your plate of food in front of you. “It stopped raining for a few hours over here so I thought, why not?” He kisses your head before sitting with you. “I’m sure I will! This looks delicious! You made my favorite.” You say happily and begin to rest, listening to him lie about his day. You didn’t know of course and it was going to stay that way.

Until Dora’s family comes looking for her.

And that’s the end! I hope you enjoyed this mini series and if you did, a like a reblog would be most appreciated! If you have any requests, please send them in! Make them as detailed as you want so I can curate them how you want!! Thank you again!

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know in the asks!!

Taglist: @evanpetersfav @yes-divine-ruler @ghastlyfilters

[thelustybraavosimaid]

"I know where we could go," Arya said. She still had one brother left. Jon will want me, even if no one else does. (Arya XII, ASoS)

--

She went back to the window, Needle in hand, and looked down into the courtyard below. If only she could climb like Bran, she thought; she would go out the window and down the tower, run away from this horrible place, away from Sansa and Septa Mordane and Prince Joffrey, from all of them. Steal some food from the kitchens, take Needle and her good boots and a warm cloak. She could find Nymeria in the wild woods below the Trident, and together they'd return to Winterfell, or run to Jon on the Wall. She found herself wishing that Jon was here with her now. Then maybe she wouldn't feel so alone. (Arya II, AGoT)

"She thinks that if she finds the right god, maybe he will send the winds and blow her old love back to her," said one-eyed Yna, who had known her longest, "but I pray it never happens. Her love is dead, I could taste that in her blood. If he ever should come back to her, it will be a corpse." (Cat of the Canals, AFfC)

--

Ygritte watched and said nothing. She was older than he'd thought at first, Jon realized; maybe as old as twenty, but short for her age, bandy-legged, with a round face, small hands, and a pug nose. Her shaggy mop of red hair stuck out in all directions. She looked plump as she crouched there, but most of that was layers of fur and wool and leather. Underneath all that she could be as skinny as Arya. (Jon VI, ACoK)

--

She wasn't wed and her weapon of choice was a short curved bow of horn and weirwood, but "spearwife" fit her all the same. She reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier. It was hard to tell how plump or thin Ygritte might be, with all the furs and skins she wore. (Jon II, ASoS)

--

"If you kill a man, and never mean t', he's just as dead," Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? (Jon III, ASoS)

Jon could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. They would wash the one and comb the other, he did not doubt, but he could not imagine Arya in a wedding gown, nor Ramsay Bolton's bed. No matter how afraid she is, she will not show it. If he tries to lay a hand on her, she'll fight him. (Jon VI, ADwD)

--

"The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you."

"I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?

Melisandre seemed amused. "What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?"

"Arya." His voice was hoarse. "My half-sister, truly..."

--

Would she still have that little sword he'd had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her. Wisdom for her wedding night if half of what he heard of Ramsay Snow was true. Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl. (Jon XI, ADwD)

She wondered if he would still call her "little sister." I'm not so little anymore. He'd have to call me something else. (Arya VIII, ASoS)

--

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. "Let him be scared of me." The snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there, giving her a frosty crown. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and her eyes sparkled. (Jon X, ADwD)

--

You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell…I want my bride back…I want my bride back…I want my bride back… (Jon XIII, ADwD)

[the-institute-promos]

➤ OPEN CHARACTER: ANDREW, 24, SLAVE, HUMAN

FULL NAME: Anhur “Andrew” Campbell NICKNAME(S): Andy PRONOUNS: He/Him BIRTHDAY: April 30 AGE: 24 STATUS: Slave MAJOR: Medicine SPECIES: Human SPECIAL POWERS: None SEXUALITY: Bisexual I AM A: Switch I WANT A: Any TURN-ONS: Age play, humiliation, domination, power play, open to most anything TURN-OFFS: Scat, gore, needles, knives, death, choking

➤ BIOGRAPHY

Anhur what a stupid name to name a kid…My name is Andrew or Andy was a near constant shout once he had gotten into school years. Andy loved his family but hated his name not even sure where his name came from. Andy was a fighter always feeling as though he had to fight for attention from his parents and even his twin sister. for twins they were not really that close she was always around mom and dad or their older brother Orion. He just hated that he was always being compared to his siblings.

As they got older he noticed that their parents would leave for a long weekend or maybe dad would take Orion and he had to listen to his sister making up stories about where they went while he was content playing video games. Yet Diana was a dog with a bone hounding on why she was never brought along until she guilted their brother into telling her what they were doing making him laugh when Diana told him where they had been going. To his surprise when his parents got home and set them down it was either the most elaborate joke or well that is what it had to be. When no one started laughing it was his turn to be confused. could vampires and werewolves really exist?

Not long after that started the training in addition to school. Mom, dad, and Orion would take time teaching about different creatures their weaknesses, strengths and generally how to kill them. After that training became more intense and gladly he loved the chances to fight his brother and father learning how to really kick someones butt. This was his life for two years. finally it came time the whole family was going to go on a hunt at a cabin. Apparently it was the same as their older brother went on on their first hunt. the first day was a boys day where Andy, Orion, and dad tracked a deer for a little while before going fishing which was boring but could have been worse. Then worse happened as they were heading back to the cabin. Something came out of nowhere tossing dad hard against a tree and a wolf but huge tackled Orion to the ground and Andy was lifted and pushed against a tree as if could it have been magic? more people and creatures came into the clearing and he saw his father and Orion trying to fight it looked like Orion hurt one and his father might have killed one but that was all he heard a bone crack. He tried to watch but he could not turn his head to see what was happening. The next sounds would change him forever the sounds of his father dying which it had to be. He wanted to fight to see his father and brother, but everything went dark. It was well past noon the next day when he heard crying and he learned it had not been some nightmare.

Andy tried to be strong both physically and emotionally getting into sports as he was no longer allowed to train as a hunter it was the only way that he could work hard and not raise suspicion as they always had to be under the thought that they were being watched. That they had no idea if their brother was alive or dead. the more time passed his sorrow turned to anger especially towards his brother that he would just leave. How did they even know it was not his idea that maybe he just left making up a story that was why he was leaving and their watchers used that to torture his mother and sister. Hell Orion was no saint like Diana talked about him. Emotionally strong that was more Diana’s department Andy tended to have a bit of a short fuse getting into some fights more than he should.

It was time for college or getting close and that became hard. To look at schools and the worst part it was unlikely that he would get to go. They had been trapped in their house besides school and moving about town, but any trip outside could always feel eyes on him or even someone at one of his games he would see their eyes if they patted their shoulder after a win. he had to miss the fall semester which sucked but continued classes hoping maybe he would get another chance sometime. then when he got his letter at Christmas he hardly waited a second before calling the number and told he had received a grant and felt a little guilty figuring that Diana would have to pay or well their mother pay for her education and to be alone, but well after what happened to their father what is the worst that could happen.

➤ PERSONALITY

✚ Strong, clever, hard working ▬ Overly confident, rageful, never lets things go

➤ ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS

Orion Campbell

Diana Campbell

➤ FACE CLAIM & OOC INFO

Andrew’s faceclaim is Robbie Amell. // Could Andrew be right for you?

Can someone finally go toe-to-toe with the fearsome Headmaster Malvolio? And can The Institute survive the struggle? Only time will tell.

The Institute - Plot - Rules - Ask - Apply

The Institute is a supernatural master/slave roleplay established in 2015, set at a prestigious university on a tropical island--a prestigious university with some dark secrets. With our eight year anniversary approaching, we have some very exciting events planned. Want to be a part of it? Join today!

CURRENT BANS: Male Professors

[rainbowxocs]

TW: Micah has allot of dark themes in his story including themes of S.A. Proceed with caution.

Name: Micah Coleman.

Username: @micah229

Chronological Age: 49.

Age: 25.

Pronouns: He/They/Wiin.

Sexuality: Asexual, Greyromantic, Gay.

Gender: Nonbinary, Cadaverionette, Two Spirit.

Species: Hybrid (Ghost/Doll).

Disorders: Dissociative Amnesia, Compulsive Lying OCD, Separation Anxiety, Maladaptive Daydreaming, Insomnia, CPTSD, Autism, BPD.

Physical Disabilities: Mute.

Recovering Addictions: Nicotine (Cigarettes), Alcohol, Self Harm.

Religion: N/A.

Job: None, Currently.

Major: Veterinary Studies.

Lives in: West Virginia, America, 2024.

Languages: English, ASL,

Height: 6’4”

Ethnicity: Ojibwe.

Accent: Has different accents depending on who they are talking too.

Spirit Form: Gaping Mouth, Gorey Body, Partially Rotten.

Spirit Level: Acceptance.

Powers: Teleportation, Floating, Possession, Phasing through Walls, Telekinesis, Invisibility.

Weapons: Pistols, Pocket Knives.

Alignment: Neutral.

Text Color: Gold.

Main Animal: Dogs, Deer.

Main Hobbies: Foraging, Wood Carving, Doll Collecting, Doll Making, Painting, Stamp Collecting, Collecting Trinkets, Gardening, Guitar, Photography.

Favorite Drinks: Hot Chocolate, Peppermint Tea.

Favorite Meals: Waffles, Fried Rice, Fry Bread, Instant Ramen, Pancakes.

Favorite Desserts: Chocolate, Yule Cake, Vanilla Icecream, Chocolate Oranges.

Favorite Flower: Sunflowers, Wildflowers, Dandelions, Violets, Clovers.

Scent: Pine Needles.

Handedness: Ambidextrous.

Blood Color: Ectoplasm.

Awareness: Not Aware. (Effect: None.)

Birthday: April 13th 1975 (Aries)

Theme:

Playlist:

Fun Facts: Likes to doodle on himself.

Special Interests: The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Peter Pan, Rapunzel, Disney in general, Dolls.

Stims: Trinket Jars, Soft Things, Instruments, Disney Toys.

Stimboard: LINK

Moodboard: LINK

Fashionboard: LINK

Comfort Objects: Rapunzel Doll, Memory Journal, Walkman, Tinkerbell Doll, Music Box.

Family:

Simon Alvar, Coraline Davis. (Parents.)

Alexander Leverett, Michael Ansley, Immanuel Ansley. (Adoptive Nephews)

Romance: Samuel Coleman. (Boyfriend.)

Pets: Friend (Samoyed.)

Brief Personality: Everyone in this family is a liar, but you could argue that Micah is the best at it. His facade is not as easily crackable as the others, mostly because they are much older and wiser as well. Though Micah doesn’t do this on purpose or even consciously like the others do, this is a coping mechanism that he has held for an incredibly long time, and it’s hard to turn off the persona. They are not being malicious when they lie, they just don’t know any other way to live.

Brief Backstory:

Micah was an orphan, He never knew his parents or any of his birth family. They grew up in the foster system being bounced around from home to home. Micah never really had a stable life anywhere, just sort of floating from place to place. They never felt like they belonged anywhere.

When they eventually aged out of the system, they ended up in a bad place both mentally and physically, Micah did allot of things that he now regrets in order to survive, stealing, lying, hurting, doing anything in order to have some form of stability for themself.

One day, Micah met a man named Vincent, Vincent told Micah that he could give Micah everything he wanted in exchange for his soul. Micah of course, accepted, hoping that maybe he could at least have some fun in this lifetime.

Vincent however, after the deal, killed Micah. Which meant that in death Micah belonged to Vincent. Micah for many years after this was trapped in what Vincent called "the dollhouse", Micah was trapped in a seemingly endless cycle of sexual and physical abuse from Vincent until Vincent abandoned him.

Micah spent 10+ years by himself in that dollhouse, almost going insane from having no social interaction with anyone. Until he was rescued by Sam. Now he is trying to heal himself and at least live a good death, considering his life was pretty shitty.

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Flake's podcast - Blood

Published 2022-11-08, songlist in this post

One of my secret wishes is that Flake invites one of his bandmates one day as a guest on his podcast, and a podcast with topic 'Blood' seemed the perfect one to invite Till to (as Till often writes/sings about it), but nope, it didn't happen (not so sure that Till would even want to participate ofcourse). But.. Flake does play (1h13) the song 'Blut' by 'Lindemann', as far as i remember the first time he used one of their songs, because (as he says it) "It is called Blut and I wanted to hear what the colleagues are up to' 😊

Before that he mentions enjoying visiting cemeteries and reading tombstones (in Berlin there's one with just 'Mutter' (Mother) on it, which leads to the Lindemann song), but he also mentions one of his favorite tombstones with a Mercedes S model on it (Flake is a car-enthusiast, if we didn't already know it). His favorite phrase on a tombstone is "I told you I was ill" (he muses on about how you could put anything on it, like your World of Warcraft score (which he doesn't play, just read about it in a Bushido bio), I wonder if he already knows what to pu on his own 🌺).

After the Lindemann song he reminisces about his school days when Blutsbrüder (Blood brothers) was on tv and when Flake decided to become blood brothers too, a classmate wanted too, so that met in the schoolyard, Flake brought a pocketknife, and they wanted to cut up their arm like in the movie, but as in turned out human skin is quit thick so they didn't manage it (or maybe the East-German pocket knives just weren't that good). Flake then scratched open a mosquite-bite that he had, the friend also scratched something, but in the end they didn't bleed much and the bloodbrother thing didn't happen. He hasn't seen the friend for about 50 years 😁

Flake also plays Rammstein (at 1h00), 'Wiener Blut', fitting the theme, after it he says "ah, beautiful song" (and you can tell he means it) and talks about having to come up with an act for it when they wanted to play it live, so Flake came up with the idea of starting with using an old-fashioned recordplayer, but that wasn't as simple as it seemed. Flake played the violin sound on his keyboard and they mixed and scrambled to make it distorted. A friend then made an actual vinyl from it, and then came the challenge to go through antique shops to find recordplayers that looked the part and still worked. And when those were found, there weren't enough needles for the players. Someone told him to use cactus-needles instead, so he took his mum to a gardencentre, and with a pair of scissors snipped off a few needles. Then back to bandpractice, trying it our, many needles snapped, but in the end it worked out and the recordplayer was used in the act, although often you couldn't even hear it properly. For the act they also used dolls that were lowered from the ceiling, these were a bit difficult to see (dolls were too small) so they built in some laserpointers and used jalousie (curtain) motors from the hardware store to lower them. Or as Flake says "Guys who like to do DIY will feel right at home with us". 😄

Couple of nice songs and anecdotes; at 1h20 he plays Eisbrecher, another band in the 'Neue Deutsche Härte' genre. Also U2, ofcourse with 'Sunday Bloody Sunday', or as Flake says (at 0h43) from a time when they were still cool. He already mentioned in previous podcasts not being a U2 fan, this time he reveals why: actually he still thinks they're cool and likes the music, but he really resented the Apple iTunes story when a new U2 album was forced in all user's devices. Flake thinks that was very wrong and pushy, everybody should make their own choices in what music to hear. But he thinks they redeemed themselves a little to promote a new album in Berlin, actually in the 'U2' which is a line of the Berlin U-bahn (subway).

Flake occassionally is very outspoken about topics, and it happens this time too, starting at 1h34, he talks about what a rubbish car the 'Volkswagen' is, not just from historical perspective (the world war II past) but also quality-wise he thinks those are really bad cars, bad construction, bad making, stuck together without love, maybe there are worse cars, Flake doesn't know, but certainly not worse cars that cost as much, and the worst customer service who lie and cheat, totally unacceptable. The tirade seemlessly continues in a rant against political parties, like the AfD (Alternative für Deutschland, a relatively new right-wing party in Germany), who support the wrong cars and not worthy causes like artists. Artists who are generally considered to be left-wing and Flake agrees on that, those who make art are those who go through the world with their eyes open, watches, improves things. No artist would ever vote for the AfD. That people in their discontent and anger vote AfD he somewhat understands but thinks is very bad. Someone who votes AfD can't be Flake's friend, it's impossible. If you buy a Volkswagen you can still be Flake's friend, he's not as strict there, but you can't complain afterwards that you've spent all that money and have a bad car. This whole rant is over 4 minutes long, but I think it gave a good insight in two topics that Flake clearly feels very strongly about.

On a lighter note, and as it's a long post again, i'll end with a small band (he doesn't mention, but i think it's Rammstein) anecdote at 0h27 when they played as a supporting act in Prague for AC/DC and Brian Johnson came over to have a chat with them, very friendly person, very well-behaved (as far as Flake can tell), and he told them about Angus Young having shortened his guitarsolos, because they were a nightmare before. They were so long that Brian would go offstage and 'Fucked me one'; Flake doesn't really now if that means he jerked off or he actually had sex, and if he did so with every song... Flake hopes one day they'll play with AC/DC again so he can ask him. 😄

🎹

more of my takes on Flake's podcasts

[captain039]

A lioness

Logan x reader (wolverine)

Warnings: Gore, sweating, placed in Logan, character deaths, intimacy, angst, age gap, anxiety, anxiety attacks, mentions of needles

18+

You aren't related to Wolverine.

Your mutant thing:

The Lioness

Genetically made in a lab. A test subject. You were originally human and made mutant. They made your bones into metal like Wolverine and Laura.

You have enhanced everything really xD, cat like. Your finger nails grow into metal claws along with your toe nails, your quick and self healing.

You stared at the TV, you hadn't seen one in a very long time. You flicked through the channels admiring the moving picture. Your leg bounced though and your heart was too quick. You kept looking out the window every minute hoping no strange men would show up again. Your mind always flashed back when you looked outside. Flashed back to the moment you were stolen from your home.

“Y/n!” you heard a hushed cry. You jolted away seeing your mother crawling in. You shot up and went to her, her stomach area full of blood.

“Mum!” you said but she covered your mouth.

“Run” she whispered as her eyes closed. Lights blared in through the windows and the doors. Men shouted and footsteps echoed up the stairs as something hit you. Your body swayed your world blurry as the men continued shouting and rummaging.

You awoke with agonising pain throughout your body. You cursed and tensed trying to move. You heard panicked shouts around you as your world blurred again and went dark.

The second time you awoke was too soft beeping and less agonising pain. You felt a numb throb all over but that was it. Your eyes wouldn't focus and you kept rolling your head side to side.

“She’s awake sir” you heard a woman speak.

“Good” a man this time answered. Your eyes finally focused, it looked like a hospital room only- more creepy. You looked around saw needles in your arms as your heard sped up.

“What’s going on?” Your anxiety was kicking in, you hated doctors, hated needles.

“What’s happening?!” You shouted pain glaring through your knuckles.

“Sedate her now!” You heard as you began to thrash and cry. It was too late though the woman had injected something into your drip bag, the clear liquid going to a more creamy colour. You stopped thrashing, your words were slurred as you fell asleep once more.

You snapped out of your day dream as a car pulled up, you frowned seeing a man step out confused. He was in a large limo car, the hell is he doing here? You watched a woman come out and froze. The man didn’t want any part of her apparently as they fought, you saw a young girl also. You went outside your senses on edge.

“Sorry ma’am” the man spoke to you making you flinch.

“Y/n Y/l/n” you turned to the woman who spoke your name.

“You’re alive” she whispered.

“Do I- do I know you?” You asked as glass shattered.

“Hey! I told you to put that ball away!” The receptionist woman came out. The other woman gushed at her begged her to leave the girl alone before she sighed and went inside.

“My name is Gabriella” she said to you.

“I don’t know you” you said.

“I know you were under medication while I was with you” you froze, she was a nurse? Maybe a doctor?

“The hell you do to me?!” You snarled rushing forward.

“Hey!” The man stopped you a strong hand on your upper chest. You hissed at him and he raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t do anything! I was just a nurse, I was told to write notes, I worked at two facilities” she said making you frown. You were breathing heavily that uncontrolled rage boiling. You backed away from the mans hand glancing to him.

“What were they doing to me in there?” You asked.

“I know you have many questions, please come with us to North Dakota, Eden” she said making you frown.

“What’s Eden?” You asked.

“A safe place for your kind” she said and you flinched.

“My kind? I was a normal human before this fucking thing!” You snarled again.

“Calm down!” You glared at the man who shouted at you.

“All right let’s all calm the fuck down” he said as you paced.

“We need to leave now” the Spanish woman begged.

“Now please, 20 grand now and 30 when we get there” she said directed towards the man.

“Please Logan!” She begged.

“I’ll be back” he grumbled snatching her phone and putting something in it, a phone number probably.

“Thank you” she whispered as you stood there.

“Y/n” she called and you looked to her.

“Please come sit” she said beckoning you over to her room.

You sat with her trying to remember her face out of your brief moments of consciousness.

“I helped you get out, I dosed your medicine made you go into a frenzy in a sense and you escaped” she said making you sigh.

“What- what am I?” You asked.

“A mutant” she said.

“No I’m not mutants are born not made- this is a fuck up” you huffed leg bouncing again.

“Mutants are gone, almost all of them Laura here and other children were genetically made” she said softly pointing to the sleeping child.

“What’s she then?” You asked.

“She has Logan’s DNA” She said.

“The man with the big car?” You asked and she nodded.

“He’s a mutant?” You asked again and she nodded again.

“The wolverine” she said and you froze.

“The-“ you stuttered and she nodded.

“Your DNA is like his but they changed it somehow” you blinked at her words.

“Laura is his daughter” she said and you looked to the child.

“What does that make me?” You gulped.

“No, no your aren’t related, different genes different DNA” you let out a small sigh though it didn’t make you feel better.

“But I have- I have claws” you muttered.

“But you also have heightened senses, much more than Logan and Laura” she said.

“I do yeah” you mumbled running a hand down your face. You twitched slightly hearing a car down the road, a familiar type of engine.

“They’re here” you said as her eyes went wide. She grabbed her phone typing away as she woke Laura also.

You went outside waited for the two cars to come. Two big black trucks armoured, with armed men in side.

“I’ll be damned” you heard someone muttered.

“You’re alive!” The same man said as he walked up front. You stared at him, you didn’t know who he was.

“Our little mistake” he said and you glared.

“Y/n? Isn’t it? Yeah I was there when they were making you” he chuckled as your heart pounded and rage boiled.

“The lioness they called you!” He chuckled and you frowned.

“Though I really-“ you stopped his talking quick as you sliced through most of his men. Till they injected you with something.

You heard commotion and your world blurred again.

You awoke groggily, you groaned and shifted expecting to be tied up.

“Logan” you heard someone say and you jolted.

“Easy” you flinched as you sat up. You were in a moving car on some highway by the looks. The Wolverine driving beside you and old man in the back and the young girl Laura.

“What?” You began to shake and cursed.

“Logan pull over” you heard commotion but you were gone. You shook and cried as you curled into the door. Your mind flashed through everything and you couldn’t focus. The car had stopped you felt it, you felt being pulled out the car and onto the ground.

“Hey!” You flinched at Logan’s voice and turned away from him. You could make out speech between him and the old man but couldn’t focus on the words. You were whimpering, tears rolling down your face. When they injected you with this mistake it enhanced everything, your anxiety attacks included.

You felt arms go around you and you were pulled to a warmish body. You stopped shaking so violently and gripped the persons arm. You felt your heart slow down eventually, your body trembling every couple of seconds. You were exhausted as you went like jelly.

“They enhanced everything in her human body, her need to eat so much, drink, her emotions, her mental state also” the old man said.

“Get out my head” you whispered feeling him in your head.

“I’m just trying to calm you down” he said weakly. You gripped the arm the was around you and leant against their chest.

“I’m sorry” you said quietly and heard a soft grunt in response.

“We need to keep moving” Logan said and you nodded. He helped you back in the car and you leant against the door with your full weight, not bothered by the rattling and bumpiness. You were in and out of sleep, to exhausted from the attack you just had.

“We need a place to rest, Logan” Charles spoke.

“Damn it Charles” Logan said and you looked to him. He was gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white.

“We need food and a good nights rest no matter how risky, we won’t get far like this” the old man fought. Logan smacked the wheel and gave in with a sigh.

You pulled into the closest motel, Logan went to grab takeaway and you went with him. You didn’t talk during your trip, you ordered a lot of food, gave Logan all your money, took your food and stumbled back to the car without a word. You began to eat stomach so empty.

“You gonna eat all that?” He raised an eyebrow at your three burgers, two chips, two hash browns and coke.

“Yes” you said with your mouth full. He sighed and rolled his eyes as he drove back to the motel.

You all ate in silence before Logan helped Charles into bed.

Laura came up to you, held your hand in inspected it. You were confused by the action and stared at her.

“She wants to see your claws” Charles said a small smile on his face.

“Oh- no you don’t see them” you faked a chuckled as she showed hers with a grunt.

“Oh” you said staring at the two knives coming out of her knuckles.

“Mine aren’t like that” you gulped.

“Also very painful-“ she gave you begging eyes and you sighed.

“Ok” you grumbled. You held your hand up and winced as your nails fell off and metal claws came through.

“That’s disgusting” Logan said looking to your nails on the ground.

“I know” you muttered as the girl looked at them in awe.

“I can do it with my toes too” you said and she perked up.

“Not today” you said chuckling softly and she huffed.

“Watch this” you said forcing your eyes to go into night mode. It made them dark and reflective before going back to normal.

“Cat senses” you shrugged putting your claws back. Your nails grew back, you didn’t watch trying to keep those three burgers, two cups of chips and two hash browns down.

“You’ve got three that come out?” You asked Logan and he grunted nodding. He was old looking, worn down, he sounded like a raspy wolf, grunting and growing all the time. Though probably a Wolverine seeing as his name is Wolverine also.

“Not as disgusting as my nails though” you tried to joke but sighed. Charles chuckled softly half asleep though.

“Get some rest we leave in the morning” Logan said sternly and you sighed.

You took Laura to the other double bed and tucked her in. You laid down, your back to them and stared at the wall. You had found others, but it wasn’t like you were expecting.

Next Chapter

[buckyswintersoldiermask]

Frozen in Time

Bucky Barnes x reader

(Additional characters; Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Steve Rogers) (not my pics, found them on google)

Bucky Masterlist

Request: @teebarnes requested...”I don’t know if this is too big of an idea but I’ve always wanted to see something where Bucky and Steve’s rolls were actually switched. Bucky was the short, small brown-haired boy who was always rejected in the enlistment. Steve on the other hand, was the tall buff sergeant who enlisted in the 107th. I’ve always wondered how their personalities would portray the switched rolls. (Then ofc, maybe they meet y/n in the 1940’s who also becomes a supersoldier, love interest is Bucky? Sorta like a Peggy and Steve Scenario. EXPECT LEAVE OUT STEVE LEAVING BUCKY 😭 still hurts) yeah… sorry it’s long...”

Summary: Childhood bestfriends find each other again after going down different paths, two of them get closer than others.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: angsty, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of death, mentions of family death, a mention of a needle, mention of being knocked unconscious, mention of handcuffs, mention of guns and knives, mention of Steve being dead, some fluff towards the bottom.

A/N: thank you for the request! I honestly thought I wouldn’t be able to do this but I tried! I did not mean to make it sooo long but I hope you like it. This is loosely based off a bunch of marvel movies.

Italics is what’s happening outside of the readers pov.

Between 1927- 1930

“Hey, Buck! Steve!” You said as you ran over to your friends. Bucky had a black eye, which you already knew was from an alley fight. After being best friends with them for years, you knew exactly what kind of guys they were. Bucky was small, had asthma, scarlet fever, rheumatic fever, sinusitis, heart palpitations, bone/joint deformities. Steve on the other hand, was tall, buff, had no health problems and was a ladies man. Steve was perfect for being in the military, Bucky was not.

“Bucky, another fight?”

“I was just walking home and some guys wanted trouble.”

“Buck.”

“They wanted a fight, so I gave it to them.”

You glanced at Steve for a minute who had a judgemental look on his face. Bucky was always getting beat up. But he was tough as nails, he didn’t let them get to him. Steve would come in multiple times when Bucky was getting beat up in an alley. Telling him the same thing. “I don’t like bullies, but you certainly do attract them.”

“(y/n/n), to where?”

“I don’t know, my mother hasn’t told me.” You replied, staring at your two best friends. “I don’t want to go, but I have to.”

“Make sure you come and see your best friend and Steve before you leave.” Bucky teased, hoping he’d make you smile.

Which he did, he always made you smile. “I wouldn’t dare leave without seeing you both.” You replied, looking at the both of them, Bucky looked over at Steve and then back at you. Bucky didn’t want you to go, he honestly had a big crush on you. Steve knew and always teased Bucky about it.

The very next day before you and your family left you went to see Steve and Bucky. Giving them both extremely long hugs and parting words you wanted to leave them with. You told them that you loved them and hoped they would do amazing things in life. You also hoped deep down they’d never forget you.

That evening you and your family left Brooklyn, not knowing where you were heading.

1943

“The 107th, Sergeant Steven Rogers.”

“Look at you, (y/n) would be proud.” Bucky complimented Steve in his uniform, “This is an amazing thing, like she said”

Steve joined the army. He always hated bullies so him joining the army was a perfect fit for him. Bucky on the other hand tried to join the army to be with Steve, but he was never considered a soldier.

You and your family had found a new place to live, but you should’ve just stayed in Brooklyn. Your parents were barely having enough money to provide. So you decided to go and look for work. What you found was some really nice people who adopted you and your family. They offered you a place to stay at, everything was going well until it wasn’t. You were found snooping around the parts of the house that were off-limits.

That was a mistake, the guards first thought was to get rid of you, but the boss had other plans.

“No, no, no, I have to get back to my family, please!” You cried out before you were knocked unconscious. You could not remember how long you were stuck in a cage, crying out for help. Then came the day where they finally wanted to get you out. They dragged you to their lab when you saw a huge needle you became paralyzed you.

They threw you into the chair and strapped all of your limbs down. You laid there and closed your eyes, thinking about your family as they injected you with some serum. The serum coursed through your veins alarmly fast making you cry out in pain. They left you there strapped to the chair until you passed out. Before you could wake up again they put you back in your cell, they handcuffed you to one of the bars.

You woke up later, feeling all your senses heightened. You could hear how fast the guard's heart was beating, how low the other guard's blood pressure was. As one of them walked by, you went limp so they wouldn’t suspect you survived the serum. And they didn’t, they opened your cell, unlocked your handcuffs and threw you over one of their shoulders.

This was your chance to run. You pushed the guard with your body and he fell, you landed on your feet and looked for an exit. Guns were being shot at you, knives thrown at you as you dodged them repeatedly. You were almost out until you ran into a tall, muscular man. You tried to get by but he was quicker and punched you, making you fall on the floor.

“Put her back in her cage.”

3 guards grabbed you and threw you back into your cell. The big guy that knocked you out was talking to the other guards which made you worry, you heard a little of what they said;

“We need control over her.” ‘We can’t let her escape.” “She’s going to be the face of HYDRA.”

HYDRA? What’s HYDRA? You didn’t know what was happening but you knew it wasn’t going to be good. The next few weeks they had you train. They were still trying to figure out a way to make you completely under their control. That’s when they brought in the cryogenic chamber, they wanted to control you but they didn’t want you to age.

What they didn’t know is that their operation was about to get blown up. Quite literally. A missile was aimed at their lab. You didn’t know it either. You were in cryostasis, unknown to the world. The lab was then blown up and you were thrown into the rubble. The missile killed all the guards, but the boss walked out without a scratch. And you stayed there, frozen in time.

2010

67 years. You were in that chamber under the rubble for 67 years.

SHIELD had been looking into HYDRA for a while now. They have been checking where they’ve hit, hoping to find survivors or people that know about HYDRA.

“Let’s get a team to go there, Is that Canada?”

“That lab has been destroyed since 1943, what's the point in even going there?” An agent questioned.

“Did I look like I asked for your input agent?” Fury snapped back, “Go and report back.”

A few agents flew to Canada, getting there they saw a bunch of caution tape and the city was pretty deserted. They looked around until they saw some glass, which led them straight to you.

‘Director Fury, there's someone in a chamber under the rubble’

‘Don’t open it, just bring them back.’

The agents used their equipment to get the chamber out and put you on the Quinjet. When they arrived they brought you to Fury and Maria Hill and he got a good look at you.

“I think this is (y/n), the missing person from 1943.”

“Director, are you sure?”

“We just have to find out.” The agent, Fury, and Maria Hill went into a rehabilitation room at headquarters so you wouldn’t have an overwhelming wake up.

They carefully unfroze you and waited for you to wake up. You eyes opened and you saw the harsh room light, when you were stuck in the lab all the lights were dull so this immensely caught you off guard. When you noticed no one dragged you out of the chamber you panicked. You jumped up and your eyes landed on Fury and Maria.

“(y/n)?” Fury asked, staying where he was so he doesn’t scare you.

“How do you know my name?”

‘You went missing in 1943 right?”

“More like kidnapped and held against my will, wait who are you?”

“I’m Nicholas Fury and this is Maria Hill.” He introduced.

“Why am I here? Can I go home? Where are my parents?” You frantically asked.

“(y/n), you’ve been frozen for 67 years.”

You knew he was lying. It has not been 67 years. “I- what, that’s not funny, take me home.”

“I’m sorry (y/n), you can’t go home.” Fury replied, glancing at Maria.

“Why not?”

“There is no home to go home to.” Once these words fell from Maria’s lips you felt broken. Your family? Gone. Your home? Gone. Everything you knew was gone and you couldn’t do anything about it.

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” You spat, hoping this was some cruel joke. Fury and Maria moved and showed you a table with some big digital thing that you had never seen before. Maria clicked on it and 2 very ragged pictures of your family showed up, along with their death dates. You were speechless, your parents had died all while thinking you were dead.

“We can leave this here to give you some time.” Maria said before walking out of the room as Fury followed.

Later that Year (2010)

“(y/n), Natasha is going on a local mission, you can go with her.”

“I’d rather stay here and sort files.” You replied, grabbing your big stack of files. Fury had asked you a couple times if you wanted to go out and see what the world is like no but each time you said no. You weren’t ready. You were still wrapping your mind around the fact that you’re all alone in 2010. You helped around a lot since you practically lived in headquarters. You got the nickname “Fury’s niece” after a while. You didn’t mind it, you thought it was cute you had a nickname in the first place.

2014

Things were different than they were 4 years ago. You’d gotten used to being where you are now. Everything was familiar to you now. Though, you still tended to stay in headquarters rather than venture out. But that changed on one fateful day where you ran into someone you never thought you’d see again.

You were on your way to your favorite room to go learn some more fight tactics when you ran into someone. You quickly gained your composure and saw the person you ran into. It was Captain America. You ran into Captain America.

“Oh, hi, you’re Captain America.” You said, looking at his back.

He turned around and he spoke; “Hi, call me Bucky. You know if Fury is around here somewhere?”

Your mouth dropped open and you were speechless for a minute. Bucky? Bucky from when you were a child? That Bucky? That’s gotta be him, looks exactly like him, just… taller? bigger? You said to yourself as you memorized his face.

“Yeah, he’s in the meeting room down the hall.”

“Thank you, um, I didn’t get your name.” Bucky said.

“Agent (l/n), (y/n) (l/n).” You said in hopes he’d remember you.

Bucky smiled at you, “thank you, (y/n).” Bucky was walking away when he froze, turning back around. “(l/n)? That name sounds familiar.”

“Yeah, it was a very popular name in the 40’s.” You confessed, casually.

Bucky came closer to you, looking you in the eye, “(y/n), (y/n), from when we were kids?” You nodded as a huge smile rose on your face.

“In the flesh.” He was completely in shock that you're still alive. He pulled you into a big hug, that was definitely worth the wait. He was so shocked to see you.

“Wow, it’s so great to see you. I thought you died.”

“I’m very much alive.” You joked, “and you, you’ve grown a couple feet.”

He laughed, making you smile, you really missed that smile.

“So you’ve been working for SHIELD all this time?” Bucky asked, shifting his weight between his legs.

“Yup, since 2010, Fury found me and I’ve been here ever since, he’s like my adoptive uncle.”

“Well, I better not get on your bad side.” Bucky jokes, making you grin like an idiot.

“You never did.. back in the 40’s, you were actually on the opposite side.”

“I hope I can get back on that side.” You stared at him as he looked around, once you opened your mouth an alarm blared. Your eyes locked with Bucky and you nodded, telling him to go.

Never in a million years did you ever think you’d see Bucky Barnes again. No one thought to tell you that he was Captain America. After a few seconds memories flooded your brain. Where’s Steve? If Bucky is still alive maybe there's a possibility Steve is too.

“Hey, wait, Bucky, what happened to Steve?”

“Oh..He’s.. he’s dead (y/n).” And with that Bucky ran off leaving you to process that information.

You finally got closure with Bucky and now you need it with Steve. But you didn’t want to face the fact that he’s dead. So you ran to one of the tech rooms and typed Steve’s name in the database. Steve died after falling off a train on a mission with Bucky. Why didn’t Bucky tell you? You thought. Why wouldn’t he say that one detail that they were together when he died? You were all the way on the other side of the world so you had no idea for years.

Fury came in soon after your discovery. “What are you looking for?”

“Didn’t something happen? Why are you here?”

“Bucky, Natasha, and Sam have it handled.”

‘Speaking of Bucky, I didn’t know he was Cap. I honestly thought he was dead too.” You continued seeing Fury’s confusion, “Bucky, me and my other friend Steve were friends back in the 20’s.”

You were interrupted when Maria ran into the room, “Sir.” You and Fury both ran into the main room and pulled up facial recognition.

You froze once you recognized the face on the screen. “Steve Rogers, The Winter Soldier.” You mumbled to yourself in disbelief.

“Wait, so this extremely deadly Assassin that Natasha told us about.. Is Steve? Our Steve?” You repeated, making sure you understand.

“Yeah, He’s been with Hydra all this time, I saw his face after his mask came off.” Bucky said, recalling when Steve showed up and attacked them on the street.

“What are the odds that we all became super soldiers?”

“I thought-.”

“Bucky, none of this is your fault, you thought he died. I mean falling from such a height, he should've died. We all should be dead, but for some fateful reason we aren’t.”

“Now I have to go get him.”

“We have to go get him.”

“(y/n)..”

“Steve is worth it.” You two shared a smile before going to suit up. Once you were fully suited up, you found Bucky waiting for you in the hallway in his Red, White and Blue, looking oh so patriotic. “So when are you going to tell me how you became Captain America, you didn’t even want to join the army.”

“I will tell you that story, and you have to tell me how exactly you ended up here.”

“Deal, now let's go get Steve.”

2017

You and Bucky brought Steve to Wakanda so they could get HYDRA’s programming out of him. The both of you would come to Wakanda every once in a while and this time you and Bucky have gotten a lot closer.

“You’re exactly like you were when we were young, just more beautiful.”

“And you still flirt like a ten year old.” You made fun of him, “After all these years you still don’t know how to make a move.”

“Yeah I guess I don’t know how to make a move because the only doll I wanted was you.”

“You waited all this time,” you smiled, “well I guess it’s a good thing neither of us died.”

“I definitely agree.” Bucky chuckled before bringing your hand up to kiss it. “I wouldn’t have had the chance to do that,” he leaned closer to you, kissing your cheek, “or that.”

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[rosiehunterwolf]

For the Clawing and the Caging- Chapter 1

@fedora-lloyd (it's here! curious if you guessed it right when i told you i was making a sequel fic lol)

Hey guys! I'm posting chapter 1 of this fic for Whumptober (rest will be completed at a later date) but just so you know, it's a sequel for another fic of mine, For the Romping and the Roaring. If you want to understand what's going on in here, I highly recommend reading that first. Or don't, who am I to judge XD.

Theme: It’ll Be Fun, They Said (Torture, Made to Watch, Begging)

Word Count: 6,470

Whumpee: Lloyd

Timeline: AU, 12 years after R&R

Trigger Warnings: Torture, Blood, Knives/Needles, Scarification

Summary: 12 years after the hybrids escaped from Borg Industries, Lloyd is heading into senior year. Raised in blissful ignorance of his kind’s hardships, Lloyd’s life is good- aside from occasional taunting.

But as Lloyd grows, so does his curiosity. Suddenly, just living a normal life isn’t enough, and Lloyd isn’t going to back down until he gets the answers he craves. Sequel to R&R

Read on FFN.net

Read on Ao3

Tumblr work under the cut

Lloyd stepped gingerly into the house, easing the door shut as noiselessly as possible. There was a small click, and then silence. Lloyd breathed out slowly, grateful for all those times as a kid when he had snuck into the pantry for a midnight snack. He turned to go to his room-

And found himself face-to-face with Kai.

Lloyd jumped, a yelp escaping his lips, and heat flushed his face as he slapped a hand over his mouth.

Stupid puberty.

“It happened again, didn’t it?” He swore he could feel Kai’s gaze, pinning him against the wall and making it hard to breathe. He tried not to squirm.

“You’re not even supposed to be home yet,” Lloyd grumbled. “How do you always know everything that happens in my life?”

Kai rolled his eyes at Lloyd’s dramatics. “The school called me.”

“Snitches,” Lloyd muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Kai narrowed his eyes at Lloyd, just staring at him for long enough that it started to get uncomfortable.

Finally, Kai took a step back, sighing. “Are you okay?”

“‘M fine.”

Kai didn’t look like he believed a word of that, his gaze immediately darting to the burn marks that stretched across Lloyd’s hands- which he quickly stuffed into his pockets- but Kai didn’t press.

He headed into the kitchen, and Lloyd followed, sitting down at the island as Kai slid him a couple pills- the ones he used to get rid of excess adrenaline after an accident- and Lloyd glared at them as fiercely as he could before he forced them down, coughing and spitting as he did so. Kai pressed his lips together, looking like he was going to say something, instead, just sighing slowly.

“Lloyd, this is the third time it’s happened this month. Obviously, this isn’t working.” He gestured to the wide variety of bottles in their medicine cabinet. “Maybe it’s time we take you in to the doctor’s again and see if they can figure something else out.”

“No way!” Lloyd stood abruptly, his wings flaring for emphasis. “I hate it there! They pinch and prod me like I’m some sort of- of animal, and everyone looks at me weird, and then they give me all these medications, and I swear, if I have to take another pill, I will puke-”

“What do you expect me to do, Lloyd?” Kai cried. “We’ve already got three parents wanting to press charges for you injuring their kids, one of whom was even hospitalized, and you’re hurting yourself too, with those awful energy burns-” Kai took a shaky breath. “The doctors are doing the best they can. Very little is known about your… your species, and we just want to keep everyone safe.”

“But can’t you see? They’re not doing anything! All these stupid medications are just making me throw up and faint all the time, and meanwhile my green powers are only growing stronger, and I’m no closer to being able to control them than I was before!”

Green sparks crackled in Lloyd’s hands, and they both froze. Lloyd inhaled slowly, trying to relax. He hadn’t hurt any of his family with his powers yet- and he wanted it to stay that way. An image of Kai, lying hurt on the ground, like one of the kids at school, flashed through his brain, making his hands spark again as he briefly panicked, but he forced the powers down. I am safe. No one is going to hurt me. I don’t need powers right now.

Kai smiled slightly as the sparks faded. “See? You controlled it then. Why can’t you do that at school?” “Because,” Lloyd growled, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Kai eyed him warily. “And you want to hurt the kids at school?”

“...I mean, sometimes.” At the look Kai gave him, he hastily added, “Not, like, majorly! Just enough to get them to leave me alone.”

Kai rubbed his eyes. “Lloyd. I know it’s tough for you, I really do. It hurts me to see you getting taunted for something you can’t even control. But you can’t hurt people. You can’t. In their eyes, it only makes us more like monsters. Prove to them you’re better than that, Lloyd. Prove to them you can take charge of it.”

“But I can’t! Sure, I did it this time, a little, but I can’t control it, not really.”

“But even just some control proves that it’s possible. You need to keep working on it. You’ll get better.”

“Well, maybe I would be able to control my powers more if I even knew what they were!”

“Lloyd… please not this again.”

“Why not? Why won’t you tell me more about my past? What are these powers? Where do they come from? How is an Oni-dragon-human hybrid even possible? Does anyone else have my powers? What about my parents, who were they?”

“Lloyd, I’ve told you, we don’t know! We adopted you when you were young and never met your parents. We don’t know much about where you come from.”

“You have to know something. You guys are inhuman, too! We have to be connected, in a way.”

“I don’t know,” Kai sighed. “Maybe.”

“It’s more than just ‘maybe!’ You know more than you’re telling me and it’s not fair!”

“You’re seventeen! You don’t understand the whole situation!”

“Well, of course I don’t understand it, because you won’t tell me shit about anything!”

“Lloyd! Don’t speak to me like that!”

“At least I do speak to you!”

Kai glared at him. “Go to your room. We’ll talk more when the others get home.”

“Great,” Lloyd grumbled, trudging towards his bedroom. “Then I can have five people tell me I don’t deserve to know anything. How exciting.”

“Lloyd. I won’t hear another word.”

Fine, be that way. If they aren’t going to tell me anything about my past, then I’m going to figure it out myself.

---

Lloyd Garmadon.

Lloyd typed the words into the Google search bar on his laptop. About thirty thousand results came up, most of the ones on the front few pages from various news articles and research relating to human-inhuman hybrid species, as well as some Wikipedia pages about Oni and dragons, some announcements from his school website, posts from his social media platforms, and even a couple about some random dude from halfway across the country who also happened to be named Lloyd Garmadon.

He scrolled past all the casual sites, honing in on the more research-based ones, but every time he thought he was getting somewhere, the article ended, went off to explain some scientific process Lloyd didn’t understand, or talked the other hybrids and just brushed over him. Lloyd tried again, this time searching for “Oni-dragon-human hybrid.”

Again, most were just encyclopedias and less-than-helpful research reports. Lloyd frowned at his screen. There had to be something more interesting than this.

Before he knew it, the minutes had slipped into hours, and Lloyd was shoulder-deep in research, although still not much more informed about what he actually wanted.

Lloyd was about to be done for the day, before he realized he had scrolled past one article. He clicked the link with low expectations. He doubted this would differ from all the repetitive, insignificant information on the others.

“The species possess qualities of both human and animal, which animal varying between species. Yet, we are unable to find a connection between the animal species, except that they are all naturally predatory animals… extensive research is being done into the biology components of this, but due to the very small hybrid population and respect for personal privacy, results have been limited and many have been turning to their creator for information.”

Lloyd sat bolt upright in his seat. Creator? Does that mean our parents?

“But there has been little compliance, and after investigation at Julien Industries, minimal evidence was found.”

Compliance? Compliance from whom? And what does Julien Industries have to do with anything?

But the article only went on to talk about characteristics of the hybrids, as all the others had done, so he went back to the search engine and tried “Julien Industries hybrids.”

Most were just various postings and journal research from Julien Industries that barely mentioned the hybrids at all, and after messing around with the search settings, he finally ended up with a measly one hundred results.

After another hour of searching, the only thing he could find that could’ve maybe been of any use was a file of records for Julien Industries. The site was a whopping five thousand pages long, so he searched the page for “hybrid,” narrowing his areas of interest down to less than a dozen.

“Files regarding information on the hybrid homosapien-animalia subspecies were partially transferred from the work of Issac Borg, although many were confiscated by the local law enforcement for further inspection.”

Issac Borg? Who’s that? For some reason, the name felt slightly familiar. But the records didn’t give any elaboration on the contents of the files, or on Issac Borg.

Lloyd went back and typed in “Issac Borg,” this time getting even less, with only 23 results. Every single website he clicked up came with an error message. He checked his connection, but it was functioning at full capacity.

They were deleted. All these articles and websites who posted about Issac Borg were deleted.

But why? Why was he completely erased from history? What did he do, and what does it have to do with hybrids?

There was one solution. There was this one site that could sometimes pull up deleted articles and closed down webpages- but it wasn’t exactly trustworthy.

Lloyd sucked in his breath. If someone found out what he was doing… he could possibly get in legal trouble.

But it’s my right! If the government’s deleting all of this information, they’re violating the rights of the press and my right to information.

Lloyd pulled up the site.

Even on here, most of the articles were missing, with only nine search results coming up for Issac Borg, but at least this time they worked when Lloyd opened them.

“Issac Borg, former executive of Borg Industries succeeding Cyrus Borg-” Lloyd started. Cyrus Borg. That was a name he knew. They had learned about him in school. He had been the most innovative mind of his time. Was Issac Borg his son? And what was ‘Borg Industries?’

Scanning further, he found a little information. “Borg Industries, largest production of scientific research in Ninjago City until 3023, when it was shut down due to fraud, improper testing of human subjects, and manipulation and kidnapping of minors. It was later rebought and rebranded under new management as present day Julien Industries.”

That was thirteen years ago, Lloyd noted. Had Julien Industries really used to be another company? And had they really done all those awful crimes? What did that have to do with hybrids?

Going back to search results for Issac Borg, he found a police report from Kryptarium, the biggest and most infamous, well guarded prison in the region.

Prisoner 45099872

Name: Borg, Issac

Age: 37

Sex: Male

Date Admitted: November 12, 3023

Occupation at Admission: Executive head of Borg Industries

Offences: Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Fraud, Assault, Attempted Murder

Sentence: To life until further decriminating evidence is presented

Next to the report was a mugshot of a middle-aged man. There was a dull look in his eyes and a slight scowl on his lips. Nothing in the picture seemed extraordinary.

Lower down, Lloyd saw the report was dated from 3024, so only a year after Borg had been imprisoned. He tried to look for a more recent version of the report, but there was none. There were some various notes tacked on at the bottom, but they seemed to peter out after a few months. One of the more recent ones read: “The prisoner is being tried for further charges of Unapproved Genetic Alterations on Human Subjects.”

Lloyd blinked. What the heck did that mean? He couldn’t find any more information on it, but something in his brain told him it was important.

Genetic alterations… Lloyd drummed his fingers on the desk. I know he was related to the hybrids in some way… he had the files on them. Maybe he was doing research? Maybe he tested different adaptations on the species?

On humans…

Could the hybrids be-

There was a sudden sharp knock on the door, and Lloyd nearly fell out of his chair, still scrambling with his laptop when Kai pushed his way in.

“Hey, bud, I’m sorry about the way things went down earlier, can we-” He paused as Lloyd glanced at his computer screen again. “What’s going on? What are you looking at?”

“Nothing! Nothing.”

Lloyd quickly closed the lid, but Kai was already striding forward, snatching it from his hands and opening it. His eyes darted across the screen. Lloyd had been able to close the prisoner report before Kai had gotten to it, but the other tabs were still open, and Kai’s eyes widened with shock and rage as he scanned it.

“What is this? What do you think you’re doing, young man?”

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong!”

“You went behind my back! You specifically did what I told you not to, and you’re meddling around with taboo subjects!”

“I have a right to know where I come from!”

“And you have a responsibility to follow the law!”

“Why are you so angry? It’s just a harmless Google search!”

“You have no idea,” Kai fumed. “You have no idea what you’re getting into, and you need to stop before you get into serious trouble!”

“Stop ruining my life!” Lloyd screamed, jumping to his feet. “I hate you!”

Kai’s face darkened. “You’re grounded. Give me your phone, now. And your gaming console.”

“Fine!” Lloyd threw his phone at him so hard he almost dropped Lloyd’s laptop. “You’re already oppressing me, what’s every last bit of freedom I have, anyway?”

Lloyd slammed the door shut as Kai left, before flopping onto his bed and crying into the pillow.

No one ever took him seriously. It was pointless to keep trying to change their minds.

---

Lloyd stayed at home the next day, doing his schoolwork online. His family normally had him stay home the day after a powers incident, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if his argument with Kai the previous night had added to it this time. He only left his room for food and trips to the bathroom, and avoided Kai and the others as much as humanly possible. Someone knocked on his door a few times, but every time, he hid under the covers and pretended to be sleeping.

He just wasn’t in a state to talk to them right now.

By the next morning, Lloyd could at least show his face again, but conversations were short and tense. Kai wanted to keep him home from school another day, but Lloyd insisted on going. School may have been the place where he got taunted the most, but it was also the place with the person who probably understood him more than anyone else in the world.

Although, she didn’t look very understanding today.

Raina slammed her locker door shut so hard that it made her long black hair flutter, and Lloyd raised an eyebrow at her. “Everything alright?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just, uh, my locker gets kinda stuck, so you gotta give it some force sometimes, you know what I mean?”

“Raina, your locker’s fine.”

She glared at him. “You’re not going to believe any excuse I give you, are you?”

“You’ve been my best friend since we were five, what do you think?”

“Fine,” she huffed. “My parents are just being huge jerks, alright?”

“Tell me about it,” Lloyd huffed. “I got yelled at after what happened earlier. For something that isn’t even my fault!”

Raina looked at him, and he blushed. “Sorry, this is about you.”

“No, that’s the thing!” Raina threw up her hands. “It’s not about me! It’s about…” She glanced at Lloyd, before her gaze quickly flitted away. “It’s about them! They’re being stupid and ignorant!”

Lloyd put a hand on her back. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure things out. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Dude, I don’t want to burden you down with my problems. You’ve got enough to worry about.”

“Hey, you’re not burdening me. You can tell me anything.”

Raina shook her head. “I’m serious!”

“So am I! Why aren’t you telling me? Don’t you trust me?”

Raina stared at him. After a moment, her gaze dropped to her feet, and she twisted her hands anxiously. “I don’t… I don’t want to upset you… again.”

Lloyd ignored the twinge of hurt in his chest. “Raina… I’m over that now.”

Am I? You know very well you can’t control it any better than you could a couple of days ago.

Am I scaring my one close friend?

“I know! I’m not saying- look, Lloyd, it’s not your fault. I hate seeing you get in trouble for something you can’t control. It’s just… I don’t want to start anything up again.”

What is that supposed to mean?

“Are you sure you’re okay? You said something about getting yelled at?”

He sighed. “My family, they’re just… I dunno. Disappointed, I think? And they’re still refusing to tell me anything about my life before they adopted me. I thought I would research it myself, and Kai got furious and grounded me. I just thought, maybe if I knew where I came from, I could-” he held out his hands, staring at them.

Raina put her delicate fingers over his. “Control it?”

Lloyd nodded.

“Look, Lloyd, I like you just the way you are. Your powers are awesome, and who cares if you have a little trouble from time to time? I don’t want you to suppress a whole side of you just to make others happy.”

“It’s more than just a little trouble. Gene went to the hospital that one time.”

“He was being a jerk, he was totally asking for it.”

“Raina!”

“What?” She scowled. “Anyone who is that mean to you is an awful person.”

Lloyd shook his head. “No. He’s awful, but I can’t go around hurting people like that. It’s wrong.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe not, but something’s got to change. I just wish my family would actually listen to me.”

Raina nodded. “Yeah. They think that just because you're a kid that you don’t know anything and that they should be the ones bossing you around and controlling your life.”

Lloyd glanced at her. “Okay, I poured my heart out to you. What’s going on with you?”

“I told you, you don’t need to know.”

“That’s not fair! I thought we trusted each other!” “It has nothing to do with trusting you! I’m trying to protect you!”

They fell silent, staring at each other, slightly out of breath. After a few moments, the warning bell for the start of first period rang, and Lloyd turned to go. “Okay, whatever. See you later, I guess.”

“Lloyd, wait-”

He kept walking, and suddenly, a hand was snatching his wrist. He glanced down to see Raina tugging on him.

“My parents- well, my dad- he told me he doesn’t want me hanging out with you anymore.”

Lloyd blinked at her. “What?”

Raina’s eyes were blazing. “I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! He heard about your power outbreak and told me you were a ‘bad influence’ and that I could ‘do better.’ He was being such a close-minded jerk, I just.. I wanted to hit him!! We’ve been best friends since kindergarten! He knows you’re a good kid! And my mom! I thought she, of all people, would be on your side, but no! She didn’t outright agree with my dad, but she didn’t say anything in your defense, either. Has she forgotten all the play dates we had? All the support you gave me when I was struggling with my depression, or all that bullying you went through? How close she was to your family, especially Kai? Does none of that mean anything to them just because a couple of kids got hurt?”

Raina stopped, panting, finally finished with her rant. She must’ve caught something in Lloyd’s eyes, because her face fell. “Lloyd? Are you okay?”

“I’m-” his voice stuck in his throat, and he tried again. “I’m fine.”

“This was why I didn’t want to tell you.” She reached for his hand, and he flinched away. Raina’s eyes widened, and she looked at him. “Lloyd, you know it’s just my parents being dumb, right? I don’t agree with them! I’ll fight for you! I’d run away from home if it came down to that!”

“You won’t need to,” he muttered, turning away.

She grabbed his hand again. “Wait. You wanna hang out after school?”

“Can’t. I have plans.”

Lloyd turned away and headed down the hall, the heartbroken look on Raina’s face only causing the smallest twinge in his chest. He wasn’t angry at her, but her words stung. He couldn’t face her right now.

Looking back, he wished more than anything he had at least said goodbye.

---

At the end of the school day, Lloyd texted Kai, asking if he could hang out at Raina’s house to study. A few minutes later, he responded, saying he could as long as he was back by dinner.

Lloyd set off, walking down the main road, deeper into the city.

Except, he had no intention of going to Raina’s.

Lloyd was done with having other people tell him what he should and shouldn’t do. He was going to get some answers.

Catching a bus downtown, Lloyd found himself at his destination about fifteen minutes later- right at the foot of Julien Industries.

He realized he hadn’t exactly thought this through. Judging by all the blocked articles online, he couldn’t exactly stroll in through the front doors and ask for information on hybrids and Issac Borg without getting immediately reported to the police or something. In fact, he thought, looking back wryly at his wings and tail, he probably should’ve concealed his inhuman features more. Lloyd had a habit of drawing attention everywhere he went, and that was something he was trying to avoid now.

The only thing he could think of was searching for discarded evidence in the dumpsters out back. It seemed like a slim chance, especially considering the event he was trying to find out more about had happened thirteen years ago, but that was what they usually did in the movies.

Great, now I’m relying on movie logic. How desperate am I?

Very, he decided, and he really didn’t have any other ideas, so dumpster diving it was.

Slipping around the building, Lloyd climbed onto a dumpster and pushed up the lid. On the top was just your typical trash- mostly rotting food. Lloyd’s nose wrinkled. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he had thought. He was starting to wish he had at least brought some gloves.

“You’re not going to find anything useful in there, I’m afraid.”

Lloyd jumped, the hair on the back of his neck standing up, and he pumped himself into the air with two flaps of his wings, turning around.

A tall, gangly looking man with long, dark hair stood behind him. His grin was sharp and off-putting, his neck long and craned forward. Everything about him screamed ‘run!’

The man held up his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you. You can come down from there. I promise I don’t bite.”

Reluctantly, Lloyd landed on the ground again, although he kept his wings poised, just in case.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time, Lloyd.”

Lloyd bristled. “How do you know my name?”

The man laughed, making a large sweeping gesture from the velvety ears atop his head down to the scaly tail that rested against the ground. “Just a hunch.”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. I figured I would find you here, after all the suspicious online activity that was coming from your IP address the other day.”

“Hey! That’s private information! How were you monitoring me?”

“It’s actually quite easy when you have friends in the right places. Next time you want to do something illegal, boy, I suggest you at least use a private browser.”

Lloyd’s tail thrashed. “I wasn’t doing anything illegal! I just wanted to learn more about my past!”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Your past?”

“Yeah. Like where I came from. Who my parents are.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know?”

Lloyd shook his head. “I was too young to remember anything before I was adopted.”

“Yes, but…” the man paused, his brow furrowing. “Your… guardians, they didn’t tell you?”

“They claim not to know anything.”

“Really? That’s interesting. Because I know very well that they know quite a bit about where you came from. In fact, so do I.”

“Wait, what?” Lloyd’s ears twitched anxiously. “How do you know that?”

“I was born a while before you or any of the other hybrids. I can remember it clearly. Oh yes, I think you would’ve been three? Four? Well, anyway, you and your friends were all over the news. It was quite the chaotic few weeks.”

“What? Why? Why were we on the news, what happened?”

“Quiet, boy,” the man hissed, glancing around. “You never know who may be listening.”

Lloyd shrunk closer to the man, scanning his surroundings. Were there really people spying on him right now?

“I’ll tell you what I know. But not here. We need to go somewhere more private. Somewhere we can’t be so easily overheard.”

“I thought you said it was all over the news. What changed? Why is it such a big secret now?”

“The government covered it up. Many people and companies were receiving backlash, and they concealed it to save their own sorry behinds. But anyone old enough during the event remembers it. You would’ve been too young to remember anything, as you said, but the other hybrids certainly weren’t. I’m surprised they didn’t tell you anything.”

Lloyd felt a burn in his chest. He had been sure Kai and the others had known more than they were letting on, but if the man was to be believed, they knew almost everything! And they had kept it from him! They had seen him struggling with his powers and refused to help him with it, and for what? What was the point of all this? Why didn’t they want him to know?

You weren’t supposed to keep secrets from the people you loved.

Lloyd fought back the tears stinging his eyes, trying to channel it into anger by breathing a small plume of fire instead. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s not fair, is it?” The man shook his head. “I guess they didn’t care about you as much as you thought.”

“No, they- I mean…” Lloyd stopped, grinding his teeth.

What if he’s right?

What if they don’t love me?

“I know you want answers. I can give you them.”

Lloyd’s head snapped towards him. “You will? You’ll tell me? But… why?”

“Because you’re special, Lloyd. You have capabilities unlike most others, and I think that deserves to be celebrated. Unlike your guardians, I don’t want to hide or shelter you from who you truly are. I want to help you embrace it.”

“Really?” Lloyd looked down at his hands. “I’m really that special?”

“You, my boy, are one in a million. You know how many people would want to possess the power you do?” The man’s gaze darted to his hands, flashing hungrily.

“So… will you tell me?”

“Yes, but not here. As I said, this information is sensitive.”

Lloyd hesitated. “Where are we going?”

“Just somewhere more safe. My house is just down the road a couple blocks.”

“Wait…”

The man turned back to him. “Surely you’re not having second thoughts?”

“No! No, I mean…” Lloyd glanced down at his watch. “My family’s expecting me home soon.”

The man scowled. “Aren’t you a bit too old for a curfew?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just- well, Kai gets really nosy when I’m not doing what I’m supposed to, and I don’t want him to find out I’m here. Just- just hang on, I’m going to ask him for more time.”

Lloyd: hey can i stay at raina’s a little longer? I can eat with her family

It didn’t take long at all for Kai to respond.

Kai: k, that’s fine, just dont stay out too late. It’s a school night

“Alright,” Lloyd announced. “He doesn’t suspect a thing. We can go now- uh, I just realized, I never caught your name.”

The man grinned. “You can call me Pythor.”

Pythor? Lloyd frowned. Older people sure had weird names sometimes.

“Oh, and I am terribly sorry for having to do this to you.”

“Wait, what-” Lloyd whipped around, but before he could do anything. something heavy collided with his head, and the world went black.

---

The room was so dark that it took Lloyd a moment to realize he had actually opened his eyes. He waited for them to adjust to the lighting- normally he could see well in the dark- but his eyes seemed to be taking their sweet time.

He groaned softly, trying to raise his head, but it felt heavy and slow.

Where… where am I…

Lloyd blinked rapidly, trying to keep his eyes open. What was wrong with him?

“That would be the sedatives.”

Lloyd jumped at the sound of the voice, slowly raising his gaze to see Pythor walking towards him. Lloyd jerked away, but was quickly stopped by the yank of the metal chains around his ankles and arms.

“What’re you… what’re going to do with me?”

“Don’t you see? This is an opportunity of a lifetime! Sure, we could throw you in a cage and watch your behaviors, but that wouldn’t give us any information we don’t already have. Your body, however, has experienced a relatively normal human life. Wouldn’t it be fascinating to discover those effects on your body?”

Lloyd glared at him. “You didn’t answer my question. What’re you going to do with me?”

“Oh, we just need some samples. Not a big deal. Although…” he leaned back, laughing. “Maybe not so easy for you.”

He had something- a tray. Lloyd craned his head to look at it and immediately wished he hadn’t. Small, sharp blades, lined up neatly next to the larger knives, the scissors, and long, pointed needles-

Lloyd scrambled backwards- as much as he could, anyway- as Pythor held up the glinting blade. “No, no, no, please, what do you want, I’ll-”

“This is what I want,” Pythor insisted. “Now hold still, or you’ll only make it worse for yourself.”

Lloyd squeezed his eyes shut. For a while, there was nothing, but Lloyd didn’t dare to look. He didn’t want to watch, there was nothing he could-

He only felt the coolness of the blade for a millisecond before it was slitting his wrist. Lloyd bit down on his tongue, drawing blood.

Another cut, this one deeper, slower- Pythor was drawing out the pain. He wanted something out of him, but what? Tears leapt to his eyes. What, what does he want?

Still, he refused to scream. Pythor was trying to coax some kind of reaction out of him, and Lloyd wasn’t going to appease him.

The room lapsed into a deep quiet. Lloyd felt like he was drowning it in, fighting through the thick blackness to no prevail.

He wants you to feel hopeless. It’s all in your head.

Pythor’s hands were steady and precise as he worked, filling Lloyd with the horrible certainty that he had done this before.

He knew how it worked. He knew where to cut him where it hurt.

Lloyd clenched his teeth as the blade cut across his breastbone, mere inches away from the major artery in his neck. Lloyd had never paid much attention in health class, but he knew he would bleed out before he could even process it if the artery was cut.

At least it would be a quick way to go.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the old saying, death by a thousand cuts,” Pythor said after a while. “Figurative, usually, but I’ve always wondered about the literal accuracy. How many moderate-sized cuts would it take to kill a person, do you think?”

Lloyd’s breath hitched. For the first time, he opened his eyes. Pythor narrowed his eyes at him, and Lloyd- oh, there was blood everywhere, the shirt he had worn that day- a top by his favorite band Nya had gotten him for his birthday- was ruined.

Pythor laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you. I have very good reasons to want you alive. But I’m not afraid to… test your boundaries.”

Lloyd moaned- part from agony and part from fear- as he reached for a fresh blade.

“What are you doing?” he sobbed. “Please, please don’t. You’ve gotten enough blood. Why do you keep going?”

“First of all, your blood is much more valuable than you know. I could get nearly a quarter million for a pint of it. I won’t actually be selling it, of course- I don’t want to give away your secrets. But when such large sums of money are involved, people get desperate. It’s easy to manipulate them.

“And second-” Pythor annunciated his point with a sharp twist of the blade, and Lloyd choked. “That was a little white lie. I do want your blood, but more importantly, I want it out of you. I won’t make the same mistakes Borg made.” He glared at Lloyd, his dark eyes glinting. “I won’t let you remain strong and prosperous like he did. Weak prisoners are the ones who don’t get away.”

“What do you mean? What- what did Borg do? You said you-” he grunted in pain, grinding his teeth together- “you’d tell me.”

Pythor barked a laugh. “You genuinely don’t know, do you? I had thought perhaps it was a ploy to play yourself off as more naive than you actually were, but you’re actually so gullibly ignorant that you didn’t know about the biggest revelation of the century, even when you were a key player!”

“I told you, they didn’t tell me anything.”

“Then they made a big mistake. Ignorance is not bliss, boy. Perhaps if you had known what happened, you would’ve known to not stick your nose into dangerous places.”

Lloyd’s heart was pounding. He felt like he should defend the others, but he didn’t know what to say. What exactly were they trying to protect me from? What could’ve been worse than not knowing at all?

“He made you. You and your mutant friends were his lab experiment, his special little creation.”

Lloyd took a breath, and when it failed, another, his head reeling, although the smell of blood probably didn’t help.

No. No way. I’m not… I can’t be…

Pythor must’ve seen the turmoil on his face, and he grinned cruelly. “Oh, that stings, doesn’t it? What, you didn’t think you had a loving mother and father nurturing you as a child, did you? Without Borg, you wouldn’t have been born. You should’ve been grateful to him. Instead, your bratty friends revolted and ran away with you before turning Borg into the police. You were going to be so great, and that fool let you go. I told him he should’ve kept you in submission from the start, but he insisted on coddling you and earning your loyalty. He always was a stupidly sentimental man. I have no such weakness.”

He glared at Lloyd. “Borg and I used to be partners until he took control of the biggest scientific empire in the city and left me in the dust. It was a mistake. Without me, he failed. I will not fail.”

Lloyd trembled. What had he gotten himself into? He should’ve just listened to Kai. He should’ve just stayed home.

Now he didn’t even know if he was going to ever go back home.

“I, personally, prefer to ingrain loyalty another way.” He paused, lifting a needle. “Quite literally, actually.”

“Don’t. Please, please, there’s got to be another way! Please, I can’t, I’ll do anything-” Lloyd broke down sobbing, but his begging fell on deaf ears. Pythor merely shook his head, raising the needle.

Lloyd squeezed his eyes shut, looking away, but Pythor grabbed his chin, turning his face back towards him. “No. You need to watch this.” Lloyd whimpered, and Pythor tightened his grip. “Do it. Or you’ll have something far worse coming your way.”

Lloyd didn’t doubt it for a second.

Forcing himself to look down at his wrist, he watched as Pythor disinfected it with a cold cloth, then cleaned the needle.

Then, he stuck it in his wrist.

Lloyd forgot his promise to himself not to scream. Fiery agony shot through him as Pythor carved lines into his wrist- over and over, watching flesh peel away.

Listening to his own screams was a kind of torture in itself. Lloyd had made plenty of inhuman noises in his life, but this was unlike anything before. They echoed through the room, loud shrieks for help and begging Pythor to stop, dispersed between the shrill, guttural cries rivaling even those of a fierce beast, the kind that would’ve sent most sensible people running and hiding.

Although he had quickly learned Pythor was no sensible person.

To anyone nearby, it would’ve been an eerie, desperate tale of agony and torture, but Lloyd had the sinking feeling that there was no one willing to help him for miles.

His voice was raw in his throat, and he just wanted it to stop, to be over-

After many long minutes, lost through the haze of pain, Pythor finally finished, and, pulling back, revealed the symbol of a pair of dragon wings scarred deeply into the skin on his wrist.

As soon as Pythor released his grip on him, Lloyd slumped backwards, his head spinning. The effects of extensive blood loss were truly setting in now, and Lloyd felt like he was going to throw up.

“This is who you are,” Pythor snapped, snatching his arm before he could faint. His long fingers dug into Lloyd’s forearm, and he pointed to the scarification. “Never forget who you belong to.”

Lloyd stared at him, heart pounding wildly. Then, Pythor let go and Lloyd fell, the last thing he remembered a sharp explosion of pain in his head, before his world was plunged into complete blackness.

[caffeinated-cryptid]

ashes, ashes.

10.8k | AO3 link | tags/tws: intrulogical, serial killer/deity of death au, lots of death (murder, mentions of a previous suicide attempt, and brief descriptions of animal death), injury, violence, swearing, morally grey characters, crime.

““You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” Logan blurted out with a start, eyes wide and looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” Logan asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.””

(aka: remus chases death like it's his favourite pastime, since it means he gets to see logan again. understandably, logan has some objections to this.)

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

Case 1: the man in the alley.

The first time Remus and Logan met, it was more or less a complete accident.

As a part-time warehouse operative slash freelance artist, Remus had a lot of free time between jobs, and one of the things he enjoyed doing most while waiting for his next gig to come around was spray-painting obscene images into the side of alleys. 

His latest project was a 7-foot tall purple unicorn with generous proportions. Pretty tasteful by his standards, all things considered.

If nothing else, the piece of work would give passers-by a topic of conversation, and that was always something Remus aimed to inspire with his art. These topics, however, often happened to be the ‘why’ variety. Most commonly, the old classic (and his personal favourite): ‘why are you like this?’.

Regrettably, the evening passed pretty quickly with no curious pedestrians passing by his alley and starting up such a conversation. By the time Remus finished, it was past midnight and by now the only people around were the regular nightlife-- primarily the local college kids who had recently come home and were enjoying their break from classes, and adults like himself who were trying to chase away their loneliness with some other kind of high.

...Woo, and that’s enough depressing thoughts for tonight. Remus declared to himself. After all, he had a new piece to admire! Stepping back, he spent a moment taking in the completed artwork by the light of his phone’s torch before deciding it was as perfect as it could get. He’d come back later and get a picture during the daytime to show off to his friends, so for now he begun preparing to leave by packing his paint cans into his backpack.

It was when he had collected the last can of magenta from the ground that he felt something grab the back of his coat hood. Remus had no time to process the fact that someone had snuck into the alleyway before he was shoved against the same wall he'd painted his mural on, coming face-to-face with a hooded man waving a rather pathetic-looking pocket knife at him.

“Give me your money. Now.” The man demanded.

Remus blinked in delayed surprise. Usually he was the one being the creep in the alleyway. He had never expected to come across an actual creep. Heck, this situation felt like it was pulled straight out of an old PSA with how stereotypical it was.

“What?” He blurted out unthinkingly, because of that exact train of thought. 

“You heard me! I want you to get your wallet and hand over everything you’ve got.”

What an unfortunate victim this man has chosen.

“You think I have any money to my name? I’m practically the starving artist every parent warns their kid about becoming.” Remus said with a huff of amusement.

“Don’t try to bullshit me!” The hand clutching the front of his coat tugged him forward before violently slamming him back against the bricks. The back of Remus’ head ricochetted off them roughly with the sudden movement, and the small grin he had been wearing quickly faded with flash of pain and the realization he may actually be in trouble.

“I saw the paint you’ve got in your bag,” The man continued over his dawning concern. “Somebody who’s broke wouldn’t have all that.”

Remus’ thoughts halted for a second. His bag…! He knew the paint can he was holding onto for dear life wouldn’t do much in the way of self-defense given that it was practically empty, but a whole bag of them? Hitting this guy with that much weight would make him think twice about trying to stab him, at least.

“Okay, okay. You got me, I’m rich as hell. Just let me get it, alright? My wallet's in there.”

The man gave him a skeptical look, but stepped back slightly, continuing to hold the weapon in his direction. “I know how to throw knives. Try to run and you’ll have a hole in your back quicker than an onset stroke.”

Yikes, and Remus thought he was bad at metaphors. He didn’t even need Virgil here to tell him that that made no sense. Still, he grinned placatingly. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye: I won’t run.”

Finally, bad-metaphor guy let down his guard and allowed Remus to side-step around him. He walked a few paces towards where he dropped his backpack in his initial shock, putting the magenta spray in before he picked it up by the straps. True to his word, he didn't run; instead he swung around on his heel, slamming the full force of his hardback sketchbooks and cans of spray paint into the face of the hooded man.

He instantly dropped his knife, falling backwards and clutching his nose as blood erupted from it. Under the low-lighting of the street lamp, Remus was transfixed for a second, feeling like he was in one of those gritty r-rated movies he watched with his babysitter as a kid. The moment was ruined when he realized that 1) the man was approaching again very quickly, and 2) he couldn’t get the momentum quick enough to swing his bag around and hit him a second time.

Before he knew it, Remus had accidentally let go of the makeshift weapon when he was tackled to the ground, wind completely knocked out of him as the two of them collided against cobblestone moistened with rain.

“You fucking bastard.” The guy hissed furiously. His voice was nasally now that his nose was crooked and broken-looking, and Remus almost wanted to poke fun of him for it until he felt two hands wrap around his throat and start to choke him. “‘Could’ve just made things easy, but now you’re gonna die with all the other trash.”

Why? Remus wanted to ask. Over the 7 dollars and 15 cents he had?

But as he tried to tear away the vice grip on his neck, he couldn’t find the voice to talk back, even though the seriousness of the situation was hitting him like a freight train. Maybe it was his own fault for escalating things instead of playing along. Go figure, he had overestimated his own abilities after years being the off-putting one; the person others thought they had to watch over their shoulder for. Either that, or maybe it was the fact that his wallet carried more sentimental value with it than monetary. It was small and made of orange ducktape, but it carried so many things that Remus wanted to protect; a photo of his family, one of Virgil's guitar picks, the ticket to the last Tenacious D he went to, and of course, the receipt for his first condom purchase.

His mind flashed to his friends and family, and he wondered how they’d feel about this; him dying because of some dumb robber in a dumb alleyway because he was painting his dumb artwork. That was hardly the kind of death one could look back on and regard with pride (Hell if it wasn't funny to imagine how everyone will react to the news, though). But as he focused on the face above him, he realized with some panic that the grip wasn’t loosening, even as he could feel his lungs burn and a near-soothing feeling telling him to just let go.

As a final act of desperation to save himself from becoming a wholly embarrassing funeral eulogy instead of having a rockstar’s death in his 40s like he always imagined for himself, he patted the ground frantically, looking for a loose rock or something to stop this with. That’s when he felt it; the slightly warm plastic handle of the knife the guy had been holding. Remus’ heart pounded as he realized what he needed to do, and he barely even considered the repercussions of the action before he was plunging the knife into the side of the guy’s neck.

Finally, the grip around his throat loosened as the guy gasped, his expression flickering back and forth between anger and shock. Remus ripped the knife away, inhaling air greedily when the sudden action caused the man to loosen his grip and move off of him, trying to cover the stab wound with his hands and failing.

Remus quickly scrambled back and pulled himself up the wall, watching and waiting for the guy to fall still. He did, after what felt like a few minutes, and Remus didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. He’d just killed a man. It was self-defence, but still… even the morbid thoughts he had over the years couldn't have prepared him for what it would have actually felt like to go through with any of it.

In that moment of pause, his injuries caught up with him as both his head and neck begun to ache. He was so disoriented that he barely even noticed the third person standing in the alley until they spoke up.

“Well. I didn’t see that coming.”

Remus snapped his head towards the source of the voice, and immediately regretted it when the hasty motion made him dizzy. The only reason he didn’t immediately jump into fight mode was because of the unusually casual way the voice had spoken. Beyond that, the figure he saw standing a short distance away didn’t really… look like a regular person. Beyond the odd formal clothing that had no discernable modern style to it and the shock of white hair that could only be achieved with hella bleach, his skin was a cool grey like a cadaver and he had a ghostly appearance to him; transparent and misty around the edges.

Definitely not the sort of thing Remus expected to see, but he was always one to accommodate the unexpected. 

“...You and me both. My only goal for today was to draw unicorn porn.” Remus replied lightly, once he decided it wouldn't hurt to entertain whatever was currently happening.

The figure turned, startling at the sight of Remus staring directly at him.

“You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” He blurted out with wide eyes, looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” The man (deity???) asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.”

"I can't believe my own brain is kinkshaming me." Remus whined, slipping down slightly as the worn-down soles of his boots lost their grip on the concrete for a second. 

Death frowned, until a metaphorical lightbulb lit over his head. "Ah- you think you're hallucinating. Well, that's not an unfair assumption. Keep believing it, by all means."

"That doesn't sound like something a hallucination would say." Remus pointed out.

"Well then, I'll gladly prove my non-existence by disappearing." Death said as he took a step towards the body.

"Wait!" Remus called before he could figure out why. The ghostly figure stopped, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Remus’ composure slipped as his eyes darted between the body and Death. "I...I need to know that this is real. That I'm not making this up. This feels like something I'd dream, but…" 

His hand clenched around the knife, feeling the squelch of blood and the tremor of his hand. Despite the mixed signals he was currently getting on the state of his sanity, it felt solid and real, and Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that.

"Fuck. Please tell me! Am I being as messed up as usual or did I really just kill someone?"

Death’s eyes softened. "You did. This is real." 

"Well shit. Okay…" Remus looked back at the body with a deep resignation. He wondered if he should do something about that. Probably not; that would look even more incriminating.

"...If it makes you feel better, he has hurt people in situations like this before, and completely unnecessarily; his only motive was to achieve a rush.” 

That did make Remus feel better, actually. 

"Good. I’m glad I killed a piece of shit and not someone down on their luck." Remus sighed, eyeing the spectral figure. "Speaking of, if this is real, then I guess that means you are too right?"

Any sympathy on Death's place quickly faded as he was caught out. "Erm-"

"It's cool." Remus leaned his head back again. "Talking to a cute ghost man? Sounds like a typical Thursday night for me."

Actually, this was the furthest thing from a typical Thursday night for Remus, but he didn’t want to admit that to the cute ghost man and risk looking uncool.

"You shouldn't get acquainted with it. Seeing me is hardly a good thing." Death replied, though his cheeks were distinctly a darker grey. 

"Aww- don't sell yourself short. I love your work!" Remus waved away vaguely. He always had a strange relationship with death in a way that others didn’t; always the first to laugh at a funeral or smile instead of grieve. That was probably why he felt so comfortable right now. “Besides, we’ll all be food for the dirt and worms eventually, anyway. Why get uncomfortable with it?"

Death met his eyes again, seeming slightly more firm. “Perish those thoughts, it's hardly your time yet."

Remus pouted. "It's still inevitable, though. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy I didn’t die today and got to meet you instead, but what’s so bad about something that’s going to happen either way?”

“I’m starting to think I was right by judging your attitude as a red flag.” Death muttered.

“But I'm right aren't I?” Remus prodded.

“Indeed.” Death begrudgingly conceded. “And do you know just how inevitable it is? Approximately 2 people die per second; 106 per minute. There have been 6435 events of armed conflict in the past year alone, and over 690 million people who are undernourished as we speak. Beyond that, there are even more people losing their lives to case-by-case natural events and incidents. So if you’d be so kind, do not be so eager to create more work for me.”

Remus absorbed that information, tilting his head. “Despite all that, you’re still here?”

“...I am.” Death agreed after a heavy pause, in the same manner most would admit their own defeat. “I’ll admit, I’m not used to… talking so much. It’s an unusual feeling, but it’s been pleasant, I suppose.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus laughed. “That’s gotta be saying something.”

Death rolled his eyes. “My name is Logan, not Death.” 

“Huh. I’m Remus.” Remus replied, a little baffled. He didn’t expect a deity to have such a normal name.

“Remus ‘Tsukio’ Kaneshiro, I already know of you. We’ve met before.”

Remus’ bafflement only grew. “We have? I think I’d remember meeting someone like you.”

“You wouldn't; you were unconscious. It was after you overdosed on cold medicine. Thankfully your parents got you to the hospital on time before I could do my job, but I remember it being a close call.” Logan looked at him knowingly.

“...Oh.” Remus laughed nervously. He definitely remembered that. Finding out you could overdose on a lot of common household items was pretty dangerous for him to learn as a teenager, and he’d never forget how furious his entire family was with him for being so reckless. He never knew how to tell them that it wasn’t quite the accident they assumed it to be (needless to say, his adolescent years were pretty shitty to him, being the outsider in this town in more ways than one). Thankfully, the taste of cold medicine had become too repulsive for him to try anything like that again.

“...I am glad you’re alright. It’s always unfortunate when a life ends too soon.”

“Well…thanks. This has been pretty trippy, so I’m glad I met you too, Logan.”

Logan hummed and looked towards the end on the alleyway. “By the way, you should think about leaving soon. There’s a group of people approaching us.”

Shit, Remus had almost forgotten that he had just committed a crime. Given how awful this scene looked, there was a big chance he’d get thrown into jail for this if he got caught. But at the same time, he was almost hesitant to leave behind the spectre that had enchanted his heart within a few minutes, even if his mind was still trying to catch up with the overload of information.

“Why would you help me?” He asked quickly and somewhat suspiciously.

Just as Logan finished his business with the body, he looked at him over his shoulder with an almost sly expression. “You seem interesting, Remus. I’d hate for you to lose your life over someone so unworthy of one.”

And with that, Logan disappeared like a cloud of fog. Remus stood there transfixed, until he remembered Logan’s warnings and snatched up his bag, shoving the knife into his pocket and dashing into the night.

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

Case 2: the man who couldn't leave well enough alone.

The next time Remus and Logan met, it was slightly less of an accident, but fuck if the guy didn’t deserve it.

When Remus got home after the night he first saw Logan, he was more grateful than ever that he lived in such a run-down part of town. There were barely any security cameras to look out for, let alone people who were willing to be out during the early hours of the morning. 

He was able to slip into his apartment complex unseen, avoiding his early-bird roommate long enough to wash away his crimes in the shower.

After that, he fell into his bed, completely unable to process everything that had just happened. So instead he fell asleep and left the deep thinking to his future self.

As expected, he needed plenty of time to collect his thoughts. First of all, he knew he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing because after weeks and months of taking it as easy as possible, he hadn’t seen anything else as strange as a personification of death named Logan. Logan...what kind of name even was that? It felt like the name of a teacher, not something that should be as grim and macabre as Remus himself. 

But that was the other thing; Remus couldn’t get the thought of Logan out of his head. He was like the angel who had come down to bless him in a moment of weakness, saving him from further misfortune. He knew he had little to no chance of seeing their deity again, but that didn’t stop him from plaguing his mind constantly. 

Remus figured the best chance he’d probably get at seeing Logan again was to become involved with death once more. His mind immediately jumped to animals, the easiest targets; he pictured slipping into a farm late at night and slitting the throat of one of the sheep, going to a pet store and buying a hamster for the night before ‘accidentally’ leaving it in a box to suffocate, picking up a stray from the street and snapping its neck quickly. But just as soon as those thoughts came to him, he waved them away with a grimace. He wouldn’t be able to go through with any of that, even for Logan.

People had always talked about him like he was a serial killer in training. They would keep a wary eye when he picked up sharp objects and ask his brother if Remus had ever hurt one of their pets as kids, as if because he had unconventional ideas, he was a complete sadist towards the innocent. (And yes, perhaps he did have thoughts of that nature too, but they’d always fill him with sickness because he fucking loved the pet dogs they had as kids, damn it). In any case, he knew that going through with those ideas would only be proving those people right, that he was a dangerous individual who’d murder an innocent creature just for someone his brain maybe made up.

...Perhaps he was losing his mind after all. What was he doing, plotting out the best way to see Death? If anyone else could hear his thoughts, they’d think him half-mad or suicidal. It seemed like the best thing so do was to try to push this out of his mind, so eventually, that's what he did. He wasn’t so good at that usually; his mouth ran a mile a minute and the people who knew him would often say that his brain-mouth filter was non-existent. But this felt like something he’d like to keep for himself, especially when news of the murder made it onto the local news, presumed to be the outcome of ‘gang activity’ simply because the victim was successful and had a loving family and what else could explain this?

He decided to not think about making plans anymore, and he only thought about Logan when his mind was otherwise unoccupied. It stayed that way until the very next week when he found out about the situation with his roommate’s ex.

Remus didn’t have many people in the world who were willing to put up with him, but the one’s that did, he cherished dearly. So when Nadia, the woman he’d describe as belonging among the Valkyries (if only she could get past her deal of not wanting to hurt a fly), came to him looking uncharacteristically shaken and upset, Remus felt something in him snap.

She told Remus about how her ex-boyfriend was following her to her workplace and making threats on her life. He’d even begun showing up outside their apartment late at night in an attempt at intimidation, and that detail alone pissed him off considering he’d been too in his head to even notice.

“All because I decided I deserved better.” Nadia told him tearily. She was so strong usually, both physically and emotionally, so seeing her so close to crying felt like a punch to the gut. “I just want for him to be gone… But James would probably kill me before I could even file a restraining order.”

“What if he was gone?” Remus blurted out. “Hypothetically.”

Nadia blinked at him, wiping a stray tear. “Honestly? I think the world would be a better place. But that’s never going to happen.”

Remus nodded. “Right. Of course. Do you still have his number, by any chance?”

--

Remus’ plan was simple: Nadia would call her ex and ask him to come over to ‘reconcile’, and when he did, Remus would confront him. Scare him enough to stay away for good. He was pretty great at being intimidating when he wanted to that the both of them assumed it would work out.

Well, James came as planned. Their apartment complex had one massive security flaw in that anyone could get in without keys or permission, so the only clue Remus got that James was coming was the sound of footsteps bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. Remus stood upright and waited, until he saw the top of James’ head slowly ascending up the stairs, pausing on the second-top step.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” James scoffed disbelievingly as Remus moved in front of him. “Did Nadia seriously send out the guard dog? What? Suddenly too afraid to talk for herself?”

Remus considered barking at him in response, but considering how James was way above the common creep in terms of persistence, he crossed his arms instead and glared steadily.

“Hell yeah she did. You should know why, given how much of a low-life asshole you’ve been acting all week. When are you going to give up the big guy act, huh? Curley called and he wants his complex back.”

James, in all of his 5-foot-no-thoughts glory, only squinted as the insult went over his head.

“...I knew I never fuckin’ liked you. Don’t get involved in our relationship, you little freak.” James tried to pass him, and Remus quickly blocked him, taking out the knife he’d stolen months ago.

“Take another step and this is going in your goddamn eye.” Remus raised his voice, confident that most of their neighbours were already out at work. “You’re not going near Nadia ever again, do you hear me?”

“Or what?! What’ll you do, Kaneshiro? Stab me? Put the toothpick away and step aside, for god’s sake. This is embarrassing, even for you.”

The two of them stood in a standstill, staring each other down as the echo from James’ exclamation faded out.

“...Fine.” Remus said finally. He slipped the knife back into his pocket, and James smirked smugly until Remus grabbed the front of his shirt instead. “It’ll be more fun to do this, anyway.”

With that he shoved James backwards, who quickly lost his footing and fell down the long and narrow flight of stairs. He tumbled for few moments, hitting each step, until he landed on the ground floor with a distant thump.

Remus stared after him, preparing for James to get up and start making a scene like he always did when he didn’t get his way. He didn’t.

Frowning, Remus descended the stairs, and as he drew closer to the slumped-over body, he noticed the puddle of blood around James’ head and the odd way he’d landed.

“Damn.” Remus commented under his breath. “Nadia’s going to kill me.”

He heard a sigh somewhere ahead of him, and fearing someone had walked in on his compromising position, Remus quickly glanced up, excuse at the ready.

“It was an accident-!” He exclaimed, before he realized it was Logan standing there, looking between James and Remus with a pinched expression.

“I know you pushed him, Remus. That’s not exactly what the law would define as an ‘accident’.”

For a second, Remus was starstruck (and opting to ignore the consequences of his actions). “You remember me.”

“Of course I do. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, though.”

That almost sounded like an accusation, so Remus held his hands up defensively. “Hey, in my defence he was just asking to die. The dude's a dick!”

Logan sighed. “Regardless, you shouldn't go around killing people. Sooner or later you’ll get caught.”

“Well, I’m 1 for 1 so far! But if you’d rather me not get in trouble… Have any tips on how to cover this?” Remus joked, winking.

Logan frowned at him before he truly considered it, looking around at the scene thoughtfully. “...Double check to make sure you left no evidence. Move quickly, before anybody stumbles across the scene. And if you have time, plant something which will make this look more like an accident-- for instance, a spill on the stairs.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting actual tips. Holy shit- okay.”

He went over to check the body, feeling his cheeks heat up. He absolutely should not be getting flustered over advice on how to cover up a murder, yet here he was.

“I feel like you shouldn’t be encouraging this.” Remus said jokingly as he smoothed out the creases on the front of James’ shirt. “Didn’t you say something about having more work to do? Who knows, you might be giving me a new hobby.”

Remus laughed. Logan didn’t. When he glanced up, the deity was frowning.

“Perhaps not. Forget what I said; I shouldn’t be interfering in matters like this. I shouldn’t even be appearing to you now.”

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s the matter? I thought you liked talking.” Remus hastily stood upright, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I- regardless of my personal feelings, I have a job to do. I can’t allow myself to become so partial over one human.” Logan replied, rubbing at the crease between his eyebrows.

“Why? What’s the worst that could happen?!” Remus argued.

“You could cheat death, for starters.”

“You already know how I feel about that.” Remus whined. “I’ll off myself when the time comes, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Don’t-” Logan exclaimed, before he reigned himself back in. “Just. No. You’re supposed to go naturally. Neither you or I should interfere with that.” 

Remus frowned. He wasn’t so sure he liked the thought of such a boring death. If anything, he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Otherwise, he’d be just another body no one would remember-- like loverboy over there.

“That means no more meetings like this.” Logan continued on.

“But what if I want to see you again?” Remus muttered. He looked across the room to Logan and found him wearing a similar downtrodden expression, until it grew serious.

“You’ll just have to deal with that, because we were never supposed to meet in the first place. I have a duty to fulfil and you have a life to live. Our paths are as parallel as can be.”

“This is bullshit, Logan.” Remus said, but he didn’t argue any further. Not when Logan walked around him to complete his business. Not when he prepared to leave, either.

“Don’t do this again.” Logan said finally, giving him a stern glare. “I mean it.”

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

Case 3: the woman in the streets.

The next time Remus and Logan met, Logan was starting to think Remus was making a habit of this after all.

In Remus’ defence, he totally wasn’t.

Logan’s parting words just wouldn’t leave his head. It was even worse than last time; the knowledge that he could kill anyone and get to see Logan again plagued him, and he found himself pulling away from his family and friends after the questioning from the police was over and done with.

They were all worried for him, but especially Nadia who knew exactly what he did and assumed it was because of the guilt that he was becoming uncharacteristically withdrawn. Although she was shocked at how things had escalated, she tried to apologize multiple times for letting Remus confront James, which he would always blow off. It wasn’t killing James that had gotten to him, not at all; in fact he was glad that prick was out of their hair. Rather, he grappled with the idea of never seeing Logan again, one of the few people who truly saw the worst sides of him and accepted them nonetheless.

He didn’t deal with it well. 

The night of their next meeting, Remus was out drinking alone. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he didn’t want to justify why he wanted to get absolutely wasted to his friends, so being sad and lonely for one night it was. 

He had stumbled out of the bar late at night, beginning his unsteady trek home since he had accidentally spent too much money and couldn’t afford an uber to drive him back. Stepping onto the street a couple blocks from his apartment, everything was quiet until the person ahead of him crossed the road, just as a car sped around the corner and knocked them over with an awful crunch.

Remus stood in shock. He looked after the swerving car to get the licence plate, but it was already too late and they had hit the gas upon noticing him. Swearing, he stumbled over to the person left in the road. 

“Shit- Are you alright? Of course not, you need an ambulance.” He was struggling to unlock his phone when he noticed how still the person-- a frail old woman-- was. It didn’t even look like she was taking breaths, though it was hard to tell through his swimming vision and the thick coat she was wearing.

With unsteady fingers, Remus pressed against the pulsepoint on her neck, and felt the moment her heartbeat stopped.

“Oh…”

And then he turned on his heel and threw up.

Death wasn’t supposed to bother him like this. He had always been proud of his ability to frighten others with his dismissive attitude towards life’s eventualities. But this was different. He had just watched the murder of a complete stranger right before his eyes, and there wasn't even anything he could do. What the fuck?

He didn’t even feel better when the person he’d been longing to see all night appeared right in front of him, arms crossed and ready to give a lecture.

“Again, Remus?! What did I tell you?! No more murder!” Logan threw his hands up at the sight of Remus next to the body, that was until he noticed the cause of death and Remus’ sickly appearance,

“I-I didn’t do anything this time, I swear. Logan I promised myself I wouldn’t.” He picked himself out of the gutter he had been puking into, trying to look at the deity, just so he could feel some sense of reassurance. “I thought I’d never see you again. ‘Thought I was okay with that, but I’m not. I missed you.”

Logan only stared at Remus when he began crying. He was a sappy emotional drunk when he got through the fun tipsy phase, sue him.

“...I apologize for yelling at you.” Logan said, awkwardly hovering his hand over Remus’ shoulder until it shuddered with a sob and accidentally brushed against him. Remus jolted at the cool touch, as did Logan, who quickly retreated his hand, eyes darting around worriedly.

“‘Always thought you’d be like mist.” Remus slurred, awestruck enough to forget his sadness. He reached forward to prod at Logan, who furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully.

“I… Yes, that’s definitely strange.” Logan cleared his throat and straightened up. “In any case, you need to get off the street, report this incident, and go home. Being around so much death isn’t good for your mental health.”

“Maybe.” Remus sighed. “I quite like hanging around you, though.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re drunk. You’re going to feel a lot worse about seeing me in the morning, I promise.”

“I never feel bad about seeing you.” Remus said, picking up his phone from where he’d dropped it. “I only feel bad that it’ll be a long time before I get the chance to see you again.”

“...I don’t get it.” Logan replied softly after a heavy pause. “You shouldn’t want to see me at all. I’m a bad omen. You’d only ever get to meet me in times of tragedy.”

“‘Bad omen’... And I thought Emo was dramatic.” Remus chuckled weakly. “You’re not so bad, Lo. You guide people to the end. You care for them even when you have so many people to watch over. You’re opinionated and you’re easily curious when things don’t go to plan. You don’t mind when I’m weird and you’re fun to talk to. I like you.”

Logan blinked rapidly with surprise, clutching his chest. “I wish we could be having this conversation away from the recently deceased. But... I suppose I feel the same way. I still don’t know how or why you can see me, but our conversations haven’t been unpleasant.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus said, smiling softly to himself. “...You’re right though. I should probably phone this in. I just wish I could remember the licence plate… Something like XQ... ugh.”

“XQR 460.” Logan supplied helpfully. 

“That’s it!” Remus cheered, sloppily kissing Logan on the cheek. “Thanks babe!”

Logan floundered for a second as Remus begun calling an ambulance, struggling to regain composure. “I hope we don’t meet like this again soon. Three times over the span of a year is already too much.”

“I don’t know.” Remus looked at Logan slyly. “I’ve always had pretty bad luck.”

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

Case 4: the bad doctor.

The next time Remus and Logan meet, it’s completely coincidental and under less stressful circumstances for once.

Well, still stressful. Just for different reasons. 

Roman was in the hospital because of some dumb motorcycle crash he got into, which near-gave Remus a heart attack when he heard about because he may often ask for death these days, but not like this. Never like this.

Anyway, he was more or less alive in the end. Just a broken leg and a lot of scrapes and bruises since he always refused to wear the proper protective clothing when he went riding (due to it ‘not fitting his aesthetic', apparently. Remus assumed it was pussy talk for ‘I don’t look badass enough to pull off leather’).

Remus had stopped by to visit, bringing some of the fancy name-brand crackers Roman liked since he kept complaining about how stale and awful the hospital’s ones were, and to say hello to Virgil while xe was on shift. The three of them even managed to sit down while Virgil was on break and catch up, too. Roman and Virgil seemed glad Remus was doing a bit better after his downward spiral a couple of weeks ago, even if they didn’t mention it.

After a few hours spent catching up and teasing one another, he decided to leave Roman to get some rest. His plans for that evening were to take a load off and perhaps call for some takeout with Nadia. Honest to God, he didn’t plan on looking for any trouble.

But still, trouble found him when he noticed Logan walking the halls of the hospital, following a doctor to the elevator.

Remus double-taked. Though he shouldn’t really be surprised to see Logan here in a place with so much death, it was still odd witnessing the cloaked figure walk around normal people, none of them noticing his presence. 

Remus quickly jogged over. "Logan!" He hissed under his breath.

The deity startled (startled!) before turning to him, just like the doctor he was following. 

"Do you need something?" The doctor said, raising an eyebrow.

"Uhhhh, nope! Just… getting into the elevator." Remus replied, stepping in and standing next to Logan.

"Why must you have such awful timing?" Logan sighed stressfully as the elevator doors slid shut. Remus looked at him, unable to verbally reply with the doctor standing right next to them. Fortunately, his unspoken request to elaborate was picked up on.

"This doctor is going down go the morgue. I was here to see a patient that died under his care, and I noticed how death seemed to latch onto him. I got curious."

Sounds like a bad doctor, if even a deity of death was interested in him. Heh, that probably said a lot about Remus too. 

Logan elaborated for Remus’ misinterpreting amused expression. "Remus, he murders patients purposefully. You should not have gotten on this elevator."

...Oh. Remus looked past Logan to the doctor, who had noticed his glances.

"...Hm, aren't you supposed to be in your room? Broken leg, road burn, lacerations?" He questioned, eyes flicking down to where he assumed Remus must be injured.

"Nope! You’re thinking of my twin. I came to visit him today." Remus responded as chipper as he could manage, suddenly a lot more unnerved knowing that this apparently dangerous doctor knew about his brother.

"Ah! I see. I did wonder how you managed to grow a full moustache in a day." The man chuckled. "Twins… quite fascinating."

Uh oh spaghetti-os. "Yeah… people say we're like two unrelated people, we’re so different." Remus laughed dismissively. It didn't seem to bother the doctor. 

"Interesting… Say, a partner of mine is conducting a study on the differences in the individual psychologies of monozygotic twins. I'm sure it would please her to get more data, if you'd be interested in participating. There would be monetary compensation for your time, of course." 

"This is such an unethical form of recruitment. What kind of professional are you?" Logan argued in frustration. Remus almost burst into laughter on the spot from the bizarreness of the situation, but he somehow managed to turn it into an agreeable grin instead. 

"Sounds good, doc." Remus said. 

"What-?!" Logan exclaimed. Remus spared him a glance, hoping it would let him know he knew what he was doing. Logan didn't look placated in the slightest.

"Excellent! I'll pass the details onto your brother and we can arrange a meeting sometime this week.”

At that moment, the elevator stopped to let a few other people on. Remus took the opportunity to head out before they could reach the basement floor. 

“See you later!” He called to both the Doctor and Logan.

“REMUS!”

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

Case 4.5: the dead doctor.

The next time they meet, Remus fully expects it.

Roman asks him over text why he volunteered them for a study, and Remus makes some vague excuse like ‘sexy doctor’. Thankfully, he bought it.

Before the date sent to them by the doctor, Remus decided to do his own research first. To do so, he contacted Virgil and asked for details on the man. 

After copious amount of friendly jabs (like 'oooh Remus, I didn’t know tall, straight, and boring was your type'), Virgil told him his name and not much else, given that xe wasn't exactly close with the older staff member. That was fine; Remus used the information to find online profiles, where he found contact details and photos, where he found business accounts, where he found history.

After pulling a few more strings from people that owed him one, he managed to gain access to the vital records from the hospital. It didn’t take long to discover that Logan was right, there had been a spike in deaths since the doctor, a mister 'Stacey’, had begun working there. It was a mystery how no one had noticed the pattern honestly. Weren't doctors supposed to get their licences taken away after a certain number of incidents? As he begun looking through the files more closely however, he realized that the deaths were often chalked up to accidents; small things that could have been due to anything, from mistakes during operations, to the patients overdosing on their prescribed medication, to incidents days after they’ve been discharged.

As Remus closed his laptop, he begun feeling very glad he had impulsively accepted Stacey’s offer. 

--

The meeting ended up being scheduled for Friday evening, and by the time it rolled around, Remus was fully prepared and waiting outside of the agreed location. He dialled Roman’s number, looking out to the empty parking lot and familiarizing himself with the location.

After a few rings, Roman picked up, sounding slightly agitated. “Yes, Captain Dookey?”

Remus snickered at the old nickname-- it was practically a relic from when they played pirates as children. Perhaps Roman was feeling sentimental after his accident.

“Aye aye first mate. You should know that I’m not gonna make it to the study. I already called Dr. Stacy to let him know we’re cancelling for today, so you can stay home.”

“Really Remus? I just got ready.”

“Yeah well, you’re supposed to be resting anyway. Unless you want to drop a visit by yourself that is, but Virgil told me he’s straight, soooo...”

He heard a retching sound on the other end of the line.

“No thanks.” A sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess.”

“Bye, ugly.”

“Later, Rat Bastard.”

“Rats are cute, that’s not an insult. Byeee~.” Remus quickly hung up, his grin quickly fading as he took in the apartment complex. 

It didn’t look like the sort of space that would house an office, but Stacey didn’t look like the type to break the Hippocratic oath either, so perhaps the world wasn’t as straight-forward as it seemed.

Slipping his phone away, Remus buzzed the number he’d been given, and it wasn’t long before the good doctor himself came down to answer the door personally.

“Remus.” Stacey almost looked surprised to see him. “Is your brother not coming?”

“Oh, no.” Remus waved a hand. “I just got off the phone with him and he told me he’s running late. He said to get started without him.”

He received a charming smile. “That works just fine. Come on in.”

Stacey led him up the stairs to his apartment, and the whole time Remus felt the weight of the kitchen knife in his pocket. When they got to the ‘office’ (which was really just a living room with minimal furnishing), he offered him a drink.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Remus said, looking around. “...Seems pretty empty in here for an office.”

“Ah… Yes, unfortunately my colleague is having renovations done in her usual space, so we’ll have to collect our data here. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

A fair enough explanation on the surface, and one his brother would probably accept if he was here, but Remus wasn’t nearly as trusting as Roman was. Nor was he as ignorant to the true purpose of this meeting.

“I see… That makes sense. Or at least it would, if I didn’t already know all about your dirty little secrets.”

Stacey glanced up from where he’d been looking for a pen. “...Pardon?”

Remus smiled back; a grin with all teeth. “You have quite a few skeletons in your closet, doc. Even for a fine medical professional like yourself.”

The doctor very carefully didn’t react to that. "My apologies, do you have the right person? To the best of my knowledge we've only spoken once." 

"Yeah." Remus agreed. "And once is all it took. I found out about all those little accidents that follow you, doctor. Weird how many times your patients pass away from nicked veins and potassium chloride overdoses, hm?"

The only outward response Stacey gave was the clenching of his fists. Subtle, but Remus noticed it. "Be careful Mr. Kaneshiro, because that sounds an awfully lot like a baseless accusation. People sue for that, you know." 

"I don't doubt it. But you already know it's not so baseless, don't you? You know exactly what I’m talking about, which is why you invited us here to a shady apartment late at night, no colleague in sight."

"Remus what the hell do you think you're doing?!" A familiar voice chimed from behind him.

Remus startled out of his focus, whipping his head around. "Logan?" 

"Don't look at me, you ignoramus-! You met a serial killer alone after I told you to stay away?!"

"He knows my brother, I couldn't just-!"

Remus looked back at the doctor was closer now, looking down at him pitifully. "I see now. The talking to air, the erratic behaviour, the pushing your delusions onto others… you mustn't be well. It's alright, Mr. Kaneshiro, I could easily refer you to a mental health facility who will take care of you."

"Remus, you have to get out! Now!" 

"I know!" He wasn’t a complete idiot, damn it! But he needed to get Stacey to confess or-

"Ah, perfect! If you wait here, I’ll go and make a call." 

Remus stepped backwards, hand going to the knife in his pocket. He needed Stacey to confess, but if he didn’t-

Unfortunately, Stacey noticed his movement and quickly grabbed his left wrist, putting way too much pressure in his grip than was necessary. 

"Ah-ah. I told you to stay put, didn't I? Come now, don't be difficult. I'm only trying to get you the help you need."

If he didnt-

"Let go of him!" Logan demanded to the man who couldn't hear him. 

Stacey froze, feeling the cool touch of Death on his arm as Logan tried to pull him away, and at that moment Remus pulled his knife out and stabbed him in the chest; slipping the blade right between the ribs. 

Red pooled around the knife, staining his crisp white shirt vividly. Stacey stared at the knife, and dug his nails into Remus’ wrist. 

"Fucker." Remus yelped with pain, pulling the weapon back out. 

Finally, Stacey let go and stumbled back, hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor. His expression didn't recover from the shock from when Logan touched him; he didn't even try to apply pressure to the wound as he bled out. He just sat there until the light left his eyes, and the only sound left in the room was Remus’ laboured breathing.

"I… shouldn't have done that." Logan muttered, eyeing the limp body. 

"Done what? I'm the one that killed him. That was my backup plan all along." Remus replied numbly, looking at the scene he had caused. 

"I gave him the touch of Death, it's- it's an omen. I'm not supposed to use it ever."

"Gee, I'm flattered. I promise murder was always on my brain though." Remus said as he took the tape recorder out of his pocket. No need for this anymore. He wanted to get a clip of Stacey saying something incriminating so that he could defame him and ruin his reputation, but well, him not being able to benefit from a reputation at all was the next best thing.

Logan watched him, taking in the claw marks across his wrist. "...Right. He scratched you, so remember to clean under his nails." 

Despite everything, Remus smiled softly at the advice. "Aww, you really care about me, don't you?"

"I- no. Absolutely not. That’s absurd" Remus snickered as Logan flushed an adorable shade of paynes grey, which he hid by going to deal with the corrupt doctor’s soul. 

"...Why did you show up, by the way? There isn't anyone dead in this apartment is there?" Remus realized belatedly, looking around the empty space. 

"Ah… No. Admittedly, I've been keeping a closer eye on this town than I really should, and after what happened the other day, I figured I needed to be here when I noticed you two meeting… I probably shouldn’t have.” Logan conceded.

"Well, at least you can't say this wasn't a business visit." Remus giggled to himself, wiping the blood from his knife with a tissue. Maybe he was a little giddy from the endorphins of confronting a prolific serial killer, or perhaps it was the confirmation that Logan cared for him, but either way he felt really good right now, like he could take on the world.

Logan looked at him and sighed. "I should've known you'd be trouble. No more killing, Remus. This has to be the last time."

"Of course, pinky promise~."

"...I can see you crossing your fingers behind your back, you brat."

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

Case 5: the one who tried to get away.

The next time they met, Remus broke his pinky promise. No surprises there.

It was hardly even a promise to begin with, but for some reason Logan expected him to stick to it. Quite foolish, if you ask Remus, given that he now had a total of three murders under his belt, and stopping there almost felt like giving up. 

Of course, he had to lay low after Stacey however. The hospital was holding a memorial for his death and Remus later found out that it was ruled a break in. (Made sense, since Remus took a few of his fancy cleaning products on the way out, as a treat to himself.)

It was a shame Stacey was being remembered so honourably, but he couldn't really do anything about that. At least he wasn't out in the world hurting more people. 

But unfortunately for Remus, the ruling of Stacey’s murder didn’t stop the incident from trickling into his normal life, as Virgil and Roman seemed to grow suspicious of him. Virgil didn't bring up the topic to him directly, but xe begun acting sketchy when the two of them hung out (Though that could easily be wariness after having one of xyr co-workers be killed). Oppositely, Roman brought the topic up at the first chance possible.

"Dr. Stacey was murdered the night we were supposed to meet him." Roman commented the next day they were able to have lunch together, arms crossed confrontationally. "Funny that."

"Yeah. Sounds like we had some pretty good luck, if you ask me." Remus grinned.

"Wha- why are you smiling?! A man died!" His twin hissed at him. Under his breath, as to not alert the other tables.

Remus’ grin faded. "Listen Ro-bro, I didn't want to tell you this but our good doctor wasn't as kind as you think he is. I called you off that night to help you. Trust me. It’s better off that neither of us went through with that ‘study’."

Roman leaned back, looking unconvinced. "What were you doing instead, Remus?"

"...Huh?"

"You heard me. Where were you? What's your alibi?"

"You're not accusing your own flesh and blood of murder, are you?" Remus sipped his drink casually; ice coffee with as many pumps of peppermint syrup as the barista would allow. 

"Just answer the question." Siiigh, what a tightass. How did they come out the same womb? 

"I was meeting an old friend, for your information. Logan." Remus smiled to himself at the inside joke.

"Logan? You've never mentioned a Logan before." Roman raised his eyebrows.

Remus leaned back in his chair with a shrug, opting to look out the window instead. By doing so he missed the flash of complicated emotions that crossed his twin’s face at the dismissive gesture.

"I don't tell you everything about my life, brother dearest."

"Clearly…"

--

A week or two passed since his conversation with Roman, and during that time Remus didn't get to see Logan again once. That wasn't such a terrible thing, most people would assume, to not run into a deity of death, but Remus was so bored! He wanted to see his favourite death pal again, but no opportunities arose to do that, and nothing was striking his murder-fancy.

That was until the day he saw a familiar licence plate parked outside a shop.

Remus froze in his tracks, remembering the night he last saw that car.

A woman crossing the street, a body too still, a car speeding away with no remorse-

Remus had given the licence number to the police, but clearly they hadn't done anything about it. Or perhaps they'd tried and the asshole bought them off. 

He growled at the idea, startling a passer-by who was crossing around him.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before he found out who his ire belonged to. A familiar face left the shops and begun walking towards the car; Anton, a guy who had been a year above him back in high school. Remus’ memory of the man was vague; primarily made up of snapshots of cruelty and entitlement towards those around him.

He looked exactly the same, with his annoyingly polished appearance and ugly overpriced clothes. So he was right about the police being paid off, then. Typical.

He'd just have to do something about this himself. 

--

“I suppose there’s no point in trying to convince you to stop this, is there?”

“I mean.” Remus begun, looking down at the body he had just finished suffocating and rubbing at his bruised arms. There was more of a struggle than tv had led him to believe. “I kinda had to do this one. What? Was I supposed to connect the dots on a murder and not stalk and kill the guy who got away unpunished?”

“Most people would say yes.” Logan groaned, in the sort of tone that said he already knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“We’re not like most people though, are we?” Remus grinned, fluttering his eyelashes.

“You’re most certainly not. I’m barely a person.” Logan replied with finality.

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

Case 6: the one who pushed their luck.

And then shortly after; 

“Come on man, don’t do this.” The masked person pleaded, hanging onto the fire-escape for dear life. Literally.

Remus raised an eyebrow, making a show of contemplating the request. “Hmm, I don’t know. You did try to pull a gun on me.”

“It wasn’t loaded, jackass!” 

Remus tutted and held his foot over the person’s clammy hands. They shook violently at the unspoken threat. “And now you’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood too? No consideration!”

His joking tone must have angered them, because they began struggling to hoist themself back up again, red in the face with strain. “I swear, when I get up  there-”

Promptly losing his interest in hearing the rest of that threat, Remus stood on their fingers, causing them to let go of the fire-escape and plummet to the street below with a strangled yell.

“Whoopsie daisy.”

He leaned over the banister, whistling innocently as a familiar presence appeared next to him. Logan joined him in peering down at the body, eyebrow raised.

“At least this one was merely an accident?” He guessed by the cause of death, a twinge of hope in his voice.

“Nah, they’ve tried breaking in at least 3 times this year. It was getting annoying.”

As Logan scolded him for his recklessness, Remus decided not to comment on it when their topic of conversation turned back towards the casual banter they usually shared. The two of them stood on the fire escape until the sun was on the edge of the horizon and Remus had to dash back to his apartment to avoid being seen by the early-commuters.

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

Case 8: the innocent.

And then: 

Remus curiously nudged the raccoon with the tip of his boot. He’d just stumbled upon it and it still looked fresh; given that he was standing by a busy road, it was no wonder what had happened.

He was making a mental note to come back and collect the bones at a later date, when Logan appeared in-front of him in a blink, looking completely unsurprised this time around.

Remus on the other hand startled before regaining his bearings and shooting the deity a smile. “Our paths are looking less parallel by the day huh, Psychopomp-ous?”

Logan raised his eyebrows appreciatively at the word play. “It appears so. It’s quite the pleasant surprise to find you not getting into trouble for once.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows back. “That said, I really didn’t expect to see you. I was wondering for a while if you dealt with this kind of thing too, y’know.”

Logan looked down, seeming to really notice the raccoon for the first time. He nodded after a beat. ”She had a life too. My brother brought her into the world, and so I must escort her out.” 

”Yeah? Anything of note happen?” Remus asked, eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity. He’d file away the latter half of Logan’s statement for later prodding.

”...She had a family. They stayed together under the porch of an old couple.”

“Ah, to be a racoon living under a porch.” Remus lamented dreamily. “I’m glad she got to live such a rich and fulfilling life before becoming road kill. I’m truly jealous.”

“In the wild, your lifespan would most likely be around 2–3 years as a raccoon.” Logan pointed out, attempting to contradict his idealistic tone.

“Exactly. The life.”

That earned a pinched expression from Logan that made Remus titter.

“Just messing with you, prim reaper~. Now, do you have any idea how long it’s going to take for her to decompose? I have a new piece of decor to make.”

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

Case 11: the matchbox.

Remus watched from afar as the house on Psyche Avenue burned. It was bright and brilliant, so of course the firefighters were already on the scene, trying to calm the fire and save the occupant inside. 

They’d be much too late; the trafficker was already unconscious and likely burning to death, along with any evidence Remus might have left behind. It was the perfect crime.

Satisfied with today’s work, he took a drag of a cigarette, delighted when Logan appeared beside him instead of with the dirtbag who deserved to burn forever (and since it was a mystery whether he'd end up with such a fate, it only seemed fitting for Remus to play god and speed up the process.)

“Those kill, you know.” Logan said in greeting.

“That makes two of us.” Remus grinned sharply, even when Logan rolled his eyes and pinched out the end of his cigarette.

For the second time in a month, the two of them overlooked the sky together, illuminated by the amber blazes of the fire. It almost felt like a date.

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

Case 13: the one with bad luck.

He was back in the alley that had imprinted itself so clearly in his memory, knife buried in the chest of a would-be assailant. Remus was boredly watching the blood seep between the bricks when Logan finally appeared to deal with the body.

“You’re late!” Remus complained with a whine. “This guy’s practically cold already.”

“Apologies. There was a flash flood across the country, and it took more of my focus to handle than I would've liked."

Remus hummed. He thought he heard something about that on the news. Mother nature could be cruel indeed. Perhaps even worse than Remus himself. 

“Anyone nearby?” He checked.

“Not in a half-mile radius, no. However, the police may be on their way.” 

“Plenty of time, then.” Remus said as he pulled Logan down to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It had been months since that first drunk sloppy kiss happened, and less time since it had become a regular greeting. Remus would never get tired of the feeling of cold skin against his lips. It was like kissing marble-- if marble had a sassy mouth and a sexy amount of knowledge.

Logan pulled back first, smudging away the trail of blood running from Remus' nostril. “Did you have any trouble?”

“Nah, you should see the other guy.”

That earned a laugh-- a quiet chime that made Remus’ heart flutter. “I see them. Good job, you’re getting rather skilled at that.”

“Why, thank you~.” Remus preened under the praise. “It only took a couple tries, but I think I finally got the technique down pat.”

“Hmm. Speaking of 'Pat', my brother doesn’t seem to like this much. He’s not unappreciative of your choices in target, although he appears to be rather disapproving on the amount of times I've been called to your side."

Logan didn't talk about his brother much: the deity of life. From what little Remus had learned from his prying and Logan’s own complaints, he seemed like a bit of a killjoy. He blew a raspberry in response.

"Tell Patton to stop making so many criminals and maybe I'll consider it." 

The corner of Logan's lips quirked up. "I don't think I will, as humorous as I'm sure that would be. It doesn't quite work like that."

Remus shrugged, watching as Logan looked off to the side.

"...It seems I’m needed elsewhere."

”You can’t stay? We barely got to talk.” Remus said with a pout.

“Unfortunately so.” Logan turned to the body; what he should have been there for. It wasn’t long before his focus was back on Remus, though. “That said... It’s a busy night. Perhaps we’ll meet again sooner than expected.”

Remus’ frown tipped back into a smile as he watched Logan vanish. He then turned on his heel and retrieved his knife before walking off into the night. If he was going to make good on Logan’s expectations, he better get to work.

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

Case 0: the one who death followed.

It soon became an established pattern; Remus would come across someone shady, and he’d put together a detailed- or straight-forward- plot on how to get rid of them. By now his city must have noticed the string of deaths, but with such a random means and very little evidence, Remus was free to continue as he pleased.

In a sense, he was untouchable with Logan by his side, pointing out anything he left behind and giving warning for any potential witnesses. Especially when he gave up on persuading Remus away from this path. It's not like the moral argument could be made anymore; the city had seen a drastic decrease in crime once Remus had taken out a lot of big players (even if there was an air of fear that lingered in the back of everyone's minds, wondering if they'd be next up on the chopping block).

All in all, it was enough to make Remus cocky; perhaps even enough so to lead to his downfall. But how was he ever going to give up now? All his life he’d been hoping for some sort of excitement to fulfil him, and he finally found it in a surprise meeting with a deity of death. Death had gone from a distant longing to something familiar and welcome; something he could use to right wrongs and feel a sense of purpose with.

And as long as he was able to exchange a life for one more meeting with his beloved partner in crime, he would do his best to stay ahead of the game. 

(No matter who was out there, trying to stop the two of them.)

-------------- 

Writing taglist: @just-perhaps @sashootkahoot @anxious-l0ser @illogical-immunity @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @whisperinginthevoid @and-this-sword @creamiiteaa-xx

Deityfucker au taglist: @arodynamic-enby @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @overlad-of-the-snakes @aromanticwhore @haha-phrog @hetalianhufflepuff @emeryyleaf @winter-wandering @gaylotusthatexists @8bituin

[spideymarvelws]

Always But Not Forever

Mob!Tom Holland x Reader

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My TagList

Summary : During the interrogation of a mole, Tom learns something

A/n : I want to write something for the holidays but i dont do fluff (unless its requested) so here’s a angsty mob!au instead

Warnings : Torchere, blood, violence, cursing, illusion do death, fluff if you squint (dont worry it doesnt last long), mention of injuries, mention of manipulation, implied death?

Word Count : 1.7k

...

“You know, I almost admire the audacity you must’ve had to pull off something like this,” Tom chuckled, rolling up the sleeves of his white button up, “To betray us, to betray me,”

The pads of his fingers passed over the array of equipment laid out on the table in front of him, teasing the handles of guns, knives and other various torchere devices. Usually, he would just grab his trusty blade from the holder on his belt, slicing the person's throat to watch them bleed out on the chair, coughing and pleading for their life.

But this was a special occasion, one he wanted to drag on for as long as possible. He wanted to hear her screams fill the room, echoing its way around the warehouse. He wanted the floor to be soaked in her blood, dripping from her skin. He wanted to watch her life drain from her eyes slowly and painfully.

But first, he needed to get answers.

“So,” he said slowly, “Are you going to tell me why? Or do I have to force out out of you,”

The woman only chuckled, her eyes hooded as she stared him straight in the eye, “I think we both know the answer to that Tommy,”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he growled, striding up and grabbing her throat with enough force to lean the chair back, not caring if it were to fall and break on the hard, concrete floor.

“Aww, what’s wrong?” she fake pouted, “I thought you loved the name? Or is it only reserved for your whore of a wife,”

“You really want to die don’t you,” Tom chuckled darkly, bending down to look her directly in the eyes, face inches apart, “You’re on thin fucking ice,”

“And I want to shatter it,” she sneered, leaning her own face forward as much as she could with the restraints tied around her, “Just like I did your best pals heart,”

Tom felt his chest tighten at the mention of Harrison. He would never blame the blond for what happened, because despite the guilt he held, he knew that it wasn't his fault. He blamed himself for getting his friend in the hospital on his deathbed. Well maybe not that drastic, Harrison was a hard fucker to get rid of, he knew that no matter what he would hang on  but it felt like he had already lost him.

He couldn't get the images out of his head, the flashes of red, screams pounding in his ear. But the sight of her standing above his best friend, gun in hand, ready to fire. The thought alone made his go feral.

And he hated that, he hated that she knew how to get under his skin so easily. After getting so close, to not just him but his close family, his friends, to you. He could already picture the hurt that would spread across your face when he would tell you. You both valued close bonds with people, building that relationship to something reliable, something worth trusting.

So when that trust was broken, all hell broke loose.

“I’m sure you’ll do just a fine job at that,” he muttered, standing back straight up, “And the moment you do I’ll put a bullet between your eyes,”

“Oh we both know you couldn't do that Tommy,” she smirked, “Not when I have so much valuable information that you so desperately need,”

Tom chuckled, picking up a syringe filled with a light blue liquid. His fingers flicked the cover before taking it fully off, revealing the needle to the open air, “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he turned back around to face her, his face void of emotion, “Gag her,”

Him and his men had spent the next, god knows how long trying countless methods and tactics they always used to get people like her to talk. But nothing worked, even after repeatedly taking out the gag, waiting for the answers they had been searching for, she didn't budge.

She stayed completely stoic.

Tom tried his best to keep calm, unbuttoning the top of his shirt when his breath became restraint with the added pressure to around his neck

“It wouldn't matter anyways,” she sniffed, finally calming down while spitting out a wad of blood from her mouth, “I’ve already gotten what I wanted,”

“What the fuck is that suppose too mean,” Tom said exasperatedly.

“It means-,” she interrupted herself while trying to stop the sick laughter threatening to erupt from her throat, “I never thought you cared so much about me Tommy, to spend so long with me when-,” she tilted her head to the side, “You have a wife at home don’t you?”

Tom felt his heart stop, “What did you do?”

“Might want to check that little wifey of yours Tommy,” she cackled, blood splattering from her mouth, staining the collar of her shirt and the floor in front of her, “Who knows how much time she might have left!”

“WHAT! The fuck! Did you do!” He screamed, clutching her bloody shirt in his fists, not caring if some of the liquid transferred to his already red hands.

“You left me alone, with Y/n, for months,” she giggled, “What do you think I did?”

“If you hurt her-,”

“You’ve already done your worst to me Holland,” the grin settling on her face became unsettling, “Now it’s my turn to watch you suffer,”

Tom didn't want to question her further. He didn't want his temper to take over the little control he tried to maintain over his mind. With a short gruff he pulled away from the woman, walking over to one of his men stationed by the door of the warehouse.

“Break her legs and take her to the hut, prepare the call and get Dr brown on the phone and tell Sam to get to Y/n as soon as possible,” he whispered under his breath, “Take me back home to my wife,”

...

“Good Girl,” you yawned, lazily scratching the top of Tessa’s head. It had been a chill day for you in the mansion, lounging around in your husband's clothes while you decorated your section of the building, preparing for the holidays. Tom insisted on getting decorators, knowing how clumsy you were, he didn't want you to hurt yourself. At least that’s the excuse he told you, you knew it was because he didn't want you doing any work on your holidays. 

Nevertheless, you were proud of the work you’ve done, the lights strung along your bedroom walls illuminating the room, making your placement by the window feel more cozy than usual. And with the addition of the cutest dog and a mug of ginger tea, staring out into the snowy garden never felt more calming. The only thing that would make this better is to be cuddled with your personal teddy bear, but your prayers were answered when he called unexpectedly.

“Hi Tommy,” you answered sweetly, gulping down a good bit of the tea,“What’s wrong? I thought you were busy with work?”

“Y/n?” Tom said seriously, a hard edge to his voice you never heard when he talked directly to you, “Y/n, you need to listen to me right now, okay?”

“Okay,” you sat up, throwing your blanket off your lap, “Okay, yeah,” you learnt not to question things like these with Tom’s line of work.

“Where are you right now?” you could hear the click of his shoes hitting the floor in the background, the sound of the vehicle's engines vroomed to life.

“I’m in our bedroom, with Tessa,” you answered quickly, squinting your eyes when you watched her body bounce away when your hand retracted from her fur, “Well just me now,” 

“You’re going to need to go to the medic bay, Doctor Brown will be there and he’ll explain everything,” a car door slammed shut, “Sam is coming to escort you, just,” he let out a deep breath, “Are you alright?”

You melted at the crack in his voice, clearing your throat before answering him, “I’m fine Tommy, never felt better,”

“Are you sure love?” he whispered, his voice losing its harsh tone, falling back to the soft, breathy one you grow to love.

“I’m-,” you moved away from the phone, coughing into your sleeve, “Sorry, uh, yeah I’m fine Tom,”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re okay to me,”

“I-,” you coughed again, this time more violently that the last, “It’s just a cough, probably from that food truck we went out to last night,” you forced a chuckle, trying to keep the air as light hearted as possible.

“A cough? When did this start,” Tom said urgently.

“Uh, this morning i think?” you sniffled, shuffling around to find a tissue box for your sudden runny nose, “I’m sure it’s just a bug Tommy,”

“Y/n, Is Sam there yet?”

“I didn’t hear him no,” your coughing continued, “Do you want me to go outside to check?”

“No, no, stay until he comes, I don’t want you going by yourself,”

Tom’s words began to blur when you took note of the red sploshing your white hoodie. You ran to the bathroom, cursing at the blood trailing from your nose, staining the bottom half of your face.

Your raging coughs continued, splattering droplets across the marble counter

“Love? Are you still there?” Tom said panicked, “Sam said he’s moving as quick as he can,”

“Tommy,” you whimpered, your hand clutching your chest in pain, “I-,” you braced yourself against the counter, feeling weaker and weaker, “Tommy, I don’t-,”you grabbed at your closing throat, “I don’t feel so good,” 

“Love? Y/n?” Tom said frantically, “Hey, hey, hey, listen to me, Sam is almost there, I’m so close to our house, hang in there okay?” he debated his next words, “You’ve been poisoned okay? You’ve been poisoned and if you get the help in time you will get better, just,” his voice hitched, “Please don’t go,”

Your throat burned as your breath started to become short, hiccupy wheezes. Blood began to drip from your nose and mouth onto the tiled floor. You could feel your chest tighten, your heart physically hurting until you couldn't take in any longer.

“Tom-my?” you managed to let out before collapsing on the floor, the shouts of your name echoing in the back of your ear before blackness covered your eyesight, followed by a bright, white light.

...

Permanent TagList : @jadegill​ @joyleenl​ @sarcastic-sunset-7​

[the-institute-promos]

➤ OPEN CHARACTER: ANDREW, 24, SLAVE, HUMAN

FULL NAME: Anhur “Andrew” Campbell NICKNAME(S): Andy PRONOUNS: He/Him BIRTHDAY: April 30 AGE: 24 STATUS: Slave MAJOR: Medicine SPECIES: Human SPECIAL POWERS: None SEXUALITY: Bisexual I AM A: Switch I WANT A: Any TURN-ONS: Age play, humiliation, domination, power play, open to most anything TURN-OFFS: Scat, gore, needles, knives, death, choking

➤ BIOGRAPHY

Anhur what a stupid name to name a kid…My name is Andrew or Andy was a near constant shout once he had gotten into school years. Andy loved his family but hated his name not even sure where his name came from. Andy was a fighter always feeling as though he had to fight for attention from his parents and even his twin sister. for twins they were not really that close she was always around mom and dad or their older brother Orion. He just hated that he was always being compared to his siblings.

As they got older he noticed that their parents would leave for a long weekend or maybe dad would take Orion and he had to listen to his sister making up stories about where they went while he was content playing video games. Yet Diana was a dog with a bone hounding on why she was never brought along until she guilted their brother into telling her what they were doing making him laugh when Diana told him where they had been going. To his surprise when his parents got home and set them down it was either the most elaborate joke or well that is what it had to be. When no one started laughing it was his turn to be confused. could vampires and werewolves really exist?

Not long after that started the training in addition to school. Mom, dad, and Orion would take time teaching about different creatures their weaknesses, strengths and generally how to kill them. After that training became more intense and gladly he loved the chances to fight his brother and father learning how to really kick someones butt. This was his life for two years. finally it came time the whole family was going to go on a hunt at a cabin. Apparently it was the same as their older brother went on on their first hunt. the first day was a boys day where Andy, Orion, and dad tracked a deer for a little while before going fishing which was boring but could have been worse. Then worse happened as they were heading back to the cabin. Something came out of nowhere tossing dad hard against a tree and a wolf but huge tackled Orion to the ground and Andy was lifted and pushed against a tree as if could it have been magic? more people and creatures came into the clearing and he saw his father and Orion trying to fight it looked like Orion hurt one and his father might have killed one but that was all he heard a bone crack. He tried to watch but he could not turn his head to see what was happening. The next sounds would change him forever the sounds of his father dying which it had to be. He wanted to fight to see his father and brother, but everything went dark. It was well past noon the next day when he heard crying and he learned it had not been some nightmare.

Andy tried to be strong both physically and emotionally getting into sports as he was no longer allowed to train as a hunter it was the only way that he could work hard and not raise suspicion as they always had to be under the thought that they were being watched. That they had no idea if their brother was alive or dead. the more time passed his sorrow turned to anger especially towards his brother that he would just leave. How did they even know it was not his idea that maybe he just left making up a story that was why he was leaving and their watchers used that to torture his mother and sister. Hell Orion was no saint like Diana talked about him. Emotionally strong that was more Diana’s department Andy tended to have a bit of a short fuse getting into some fights more than he should.

It was time for college or getting close and that became hard. To look at schools and the worst part it was unlikely that he would get to go. They had been trapped in their house besides school and moving about town, but any trip outside could always feel eyes on him or even someone at one of his games he would see their eyes if they patted their shoulder after a win. he had to miss the fall semester which sucked but continued classes hoping maybe he would get another chance sometime. then when he got his letter at Christmas he hardly waited a second before calling the number and told he had received a grant and felt a little guilty figuring that Diana would have to pay or well their mother pay for her education and to be alone, but well after what happened to their father what is the worst that could happen.

➤ PERSONALITY

✚ Strong, clever, hard working ▬ Overly confident, rageful, never lets things go

➤ ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS

Orion Campbell

Diana Campbell

➤ FACE CLAIM & OOC INFO

Andrew’s faceclaim is Robbie Amell. // Could Andrew be right for you?

CURRENT BAN: MALE PROFESSORS

Main - Plot - Rules - Ask - Apply

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Something Seams Off || Irene and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Sew La Ti Do PARTIES: @threadofheart and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Kaden goes to Irene to repair his jacket and they have a snicker-snacker of a time. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Kaden ran his hands along the leather jacket as he watched the signs of the stores along the street. He didn’t want to miss the repair shop. Clothing wasn’t usually precious to him. It couldn’t be, not as a hunter. Sure, he had to scrounge and save for new clothing back in the day, but any shirt or pants could get destroyed in the wrong monster fight. The best thing to do was usually patch it best as he could for as long as he could before tossing it aside for something else decent. But the leather jacket in his grip was different. This was a gift. Kaden had precious few gifts in his life that he held onto, at least not prior to coming to White Crest. Either way, if anything was worth taking care of, it was the jacket Blanche had given him. To the point he was careful not to wear it on hunts, at least not often. Sometimes it was hard to avoid. Still, he couldn't figure out where some of the holes in the piece were coming from. It didn’t make sense. Definitely beyond his skills to repair. Time to try a professional for once. He gulped before swinging the door open. He had to remember whatever the price, he was fine, he could afford it. Old habits were hard to break. “Hello?” he called out. “Uh, got a jacket that needs fixing. This is the place, right?”

After the online interaction with the owner of the leather shop, Irene was quick to research some tips on how to better mend leatherwork. Since it wasn’t her typical area of expertise, she wanted to improve on it in the event she had customers seeking that specific service. Scattered across her table were scrap pieces of leather she had practiced her stitching. Several of her poor needles already set aside and bent at odd angles. Just then, the jingle of the door chimes caused her to look up at the customer entering her shop. With a warm smile, she got up from her table and walked over to the counter. “Welcome, I’m Irene, and you’re in the right place. What sort of fixing does this jacket need?” she asked, her hands gently patting on the counter indicating for him to set down the piece. Upon brief examination, it certainly appeared to be well-worn, well-appreciated.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Kaden said, awkwardly and a little stilted as he walked towards the counter. He had no idea what the protocol was in this whole exchange, it wasn’t like he’d ever done it before. Thankfully she took the lead and indicated where to place the jacket so after giving her a slightly startled look, he did just that. Right. Made sense, she had to look at it after all. “Uh, there are some holes in it. Weird spots. I don’t think I made them.” Then again, he got so many injuries and brushed up against so many various fangs, claws, and pincers it was hard to keep track of the damage after a while. “Not that I-- I mean, I work in animal control. With the WCPD. Uh, Officer Langley.” Which probably didn't matter. Why the fuck was he introducing himself? And why was he nervous about a damn jacket repair? “You probably didn’t need to know that or care. Just, yeah. Weird holes. Does it… You think you can fix this? Not to-- I just don’t know what can and can’t be saved. Usually don’t try.”

Irene’s expert hands were quick to search typical areas where jackets typically formed holes. The seams didn’t seem to be split but with some of the holes, she likely would have to reline a couple of spots so that any fixing wouldn’t look like a patch job. Her eyes narrowed as she continued to study the jacket. “Overall, this looks like it’s in good condition, but the holes are… a little strange,” she noted aloud. “Like you said, definitely in some strange places. If this were a weather or cotton piece, I’d say maybe moths or something, but I’m a bit at a loss as to the cause.” Straightening up, she let out a small sigh and another smile. After all, her job wasn’t to determine what caused this but rather how she would fix it. “Well, Officer Langley, this probably will take me about a week. I think I have similar thread and fabric to fix this up, though once I’m done, it’ll look brand new.” It was clear this jacket meant a lot to him; the stress emanating from him was hitting Irene like a wall of bricks, so she hoped her words could offer some relief. “And I could offer you a rough estimate as well if you’re interested.”

Kaden rubbed the back of his neck as he watched the woman work through what was going on with his jacket. Putain, he wasn’t normally this nervous about simple human interactions. Something about it being new, unknown, it left him unsure. “Yeah I didn’t think moths would go for leather, but a brow--” Merde. He caught himself before he started talking about fae and monsters. Barely. “I mean, yeah probably not moths.” He felt his stupid heart pounding in his chest over a stupid conversation with a seamstress. The fuck was wrong with him? Maybe he shouldn’t quit hunting. He clearly couldn’t handle normalcy. “A week? Is that-- I mean, sounds good. I’m not sure how long this would normally take. I’ve never had anything repaired before. I normally just throw away things once they get damaged but I guess if I did that you wouldn’t have any business so anyway this is, uh, new. For me.” He was certain she could tell without him saying shit. Her next assurance had him even more wide eyed. Shit, was he really that obvious? He didn’t think he looked poor. He didn’t right? Fuck, maybe he did. “A rough estimate? Oh. Yeah. That’d be good. To know. If you--” His brow furrowed as he cut his sentence short once more. This time it wasn’t just him not knowing how to speak like a normal person. Something was moving. His brows knit together as he looked closer at the jacket. “You’re not…” His eyes darted back up to her. Her hands were in fact not underneath the jacket. And yet it was wiggling. “That’s not you moving it, is it?”

Irene could feel the intensity of his emotions grow despite her telling him that the jacket could be fixed. Was something else worrying him? In the past, she had worked with clients who held incredible sentimental value to their clothing articles. Perhaps this was one of those instances. With a warm smile, she looked across the counter at the man. “This jacket must mean a lot to you if you’re bringing this in for extra care. I assure you that your jacket is in great hands with me, officer. You’re doing great,” she added lightly with a small chuckle. Grabbing a notepad and a pen, she scribbled a few quick notes about the current condition of the leather jacket and the exact fixes the officer was requesting. That helped her approximate the cost. Just as she was about to write out an estimate, his question caught her by surprise. “Hm? N-no, what do you mean?” she asked, her eyes instantly darting to the jacket to see brief movement. Shoot, did her shop have mice or rodents? “Oh goodness!” Without thinking, she lifted the jacket up, expecting to find some sort of critter there only to spot something… not quite exactly that or anything she had seen before. “What--” she jumped back in surprise, her eyes wide after she immediately dropped the jacket back down.

Kaden nodded a little along with her words. “I mean, sure it, uh, I like it and all. But it’s not that important.” Putain, why did he say that? What if that meant she was less careful with it now that she thought he didn’t care? “Not that-- I mean. Yes. Thank you.” Fuck, what if she was fae? And he just thanked her. And why did she have to reassure him that he was doing fine with a basic social interaction. Sadly, his ineptitude wasn’t the biggest disaster in the room. When she moved the jacket, out hopped a small rodent looking creature. Only it wasn’t a mouse or rat, no no. That was a snicker-snacker. No missing it. “Putain,” he grumbled to himself. “No wonder there were holes.” Out of instinct, Kaden reached for his knife in his back pocket, but his hand hovered and hesitated. Just long enough for the supernatural rodent to scutter off. Shit. But he couldn’t just stab the snicker-snacker right in front of her in her shop. He wasn’t the most experienced with social norms, but he was pretty fucking sure destroying shops with knives was frowned upon. He twisted and turned looking to see if he could find the creature. “Must have been in the jacket. Not sure how I missed that.” Had to have crawled in one night when he was hunting. At least he hoped that was the case. If he had an infestation in his apartment, well, he didn’t want to think about the destruction waiting for him at home. “Did you see where it-- there!” he shouted as he leapt towards a corner of the store, diving onto the floor, trying to clasp the rodent with his bare hands. It skittered just out of reach, running to the other side. Shit. He had to get it or else it could be bad news for her shop. It had definitely gone to the left. Only, when he glanced to the right, he saw it there, too. No, not the original one. There were two. “Uh. Think you’ve got a problem here,” he told her, trying to pick himself up off the floor.

If the rodent-looking creature scared Irene, the man pulling out a knife immediately caused the seamstress to shriek out of surprise and fear. But her attention was quickly drawn back to the thing that jumped off her counter and was not running around her shop. With wide eyes, she pulled her gaze back to the man as she tried to process just what had happened. Irene wasn’t normally one for any sort of judgment, but yes, how had this man conveniently not realize that something like that was burrowing his jacket? Before she could even respond, Irene toward the floor as the creature skittered across her feet to the man’s left. Another yelp escaped her lips as she jumped back in surprise. It was one thing for rodents to be scampering around, but she will not have them messing up her shop. Trying to think quickly, Irene grabbed a broom from the corner and glanced to the right and saw… another one. Confusion etched across her face. “Oh no…” she muttered quietly as she slowly raised her broom. Was this her weapon now or a poor decision of a shield? Who knew. “What are those?” she asked in a soft voice, hoping not to startle these creatures with any sudden noise.

This was a problem. One snicker-snacker was bad news. Two were exponentially worse. And for all they knew, there were more than even that. Kaden started to listen and look for any more signs of them, trying to keep his steps quiet as he ducked down to look at any and every corner. “Snicker--” He paused before finishing his answer. Saying “snicker-snackers” was going to make him sound like he was out of his mind, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t exactly keeping the supernatural a secret at that point either. Putain. “Uh, rodents. Mutated mice. I think.” That worked, right? “They’ll eat through just about anything so be careful.” This whole shop would be in bad shape if an infestation broke out. All the clothes and fabric would never last. He glanced over to see how she was holding up. Broom wasn’t a bad idea on her part. Shit, if only he had his work kit. No nets or cages on him now, unfortunately. “Got anything to trap them with? A basket. A bowl. Anything?” He saw a jar full of pins. This was a terrible idea. “Putain,” he grumbled to himself as he dumped the pins as carefully as he could manage onto the table he picked the jar up off of. “Sorry about that. I, uh, I mean looks like it’ll work.” He caught a blur of motion out of the corner of his eyes and leapt towards it, jar in hand. “Sweep it towards me! Corner it”

Irene watched the man move around expertly ready to attack. She clutched the broom tighter against her chest as her heart pounded loudly in her ears. “Snicker? Like--what, like the candy?” she asked incredulously. Her brow knitted tightly as she tried to keep an eye on even just one of these creatures. “Mutated mice. Wonderful. Thank you evolution,” she muttered under her breath as she took slow, quiet steps through her shop. Rodents weren’t something she was scared of; hell, she’d seen her fair share of very brave rats in New York. This? This should be a piece of cake, though she had no idea what sort of advantages these mutations gave these rodents. Her eyes quickly scanned the room in response to his request. “Uh… how’s this? Wait!” she called out, unable to find a suitable container before the pins were spilled out. Great. But she had little time to process that before she also caught sight of a dashing blur past her. Instinctively, she swept broadly with the broom, the bristles making contact with something, and a loud squeak seemed to indicate she must have caught the rodent. “Coming your way!” she called out as she made one swift broom push toward the man. “Well, that has to be one, right? Is that it?”

“Uh, sort of,” Kaden started. With how often he ran into the supernatural in this town, it was hard to remember how few of the residents actually were in the know. Code said to keep shit secret, he needed to try a little harder. As he dove, he slammed the lar over top of where he’d seen the blur. Only to catch something just to the left of him. Shit. He reached out with the jar again as she swept the lump towards him, capturing the creature underneath. “Got it!” he shouted, keeping both hands on top of the small jar, just in case. There was a sound of something splitting behind him. Putain. He kept one hand on the jar as he twisted to try and look behind him. A table leg had snapped in two and he was certain if they didn’t hurry, there might be less than three legs there. “Shit, shit, shit.” He was making a real fucking great impression here. He had to let go of the jar to get over to the other one. “Uh, do you have a book? Or a weight? Or something? And one more--” He paused. “Maybe two more jars. Just in case.”

Irene's stress levels increased, both from wanting these creatures out of her shop and from the fact that this whole instance was creating a giant mess of her shop. Had these things always been around this entire time? A hazard of her work she never considered before? As the man dove down, Irene held her breath until she saw that he had managed to catch something. “B-book? Um, goodness, I have uh I have a couple of binders of fabric swatches,” she said, frantically reaching for these from the desk in the back. And jars. Her eyes looked for a few more of those, all filled with things like thread scraps or buttons. The priorities now though was definitely in capturing these creatures, so she poured the contents out into an empty box and quickly returned to the man. And then she saw the cracked leg on her table. Oh goodness why was this happening. “I hate to bombard a customer with orders, but please get these things out of here before the rest of my shop is destroyed,” she pleaded.

This was not the first impression Kaden had planned to make. Granted, he didn’t start off on the best foot so guess he didn’t have much to lose. He’d shifted and let his foot rest on the jar while she went to grab more supplies to trap the creatures, untrusting of what would happen if he left it unweighted. He didn’t want to find out if the snicker-snacker could topple over the glass. At least it couldn’t eat it. Well, it shouldn’t at least. It wasn’t exactly wood or fiber. He looked down. Floors should be safe, too. Right, better get them out quickly. “Thanks,” he said, taking the book and the jars from her. He dumped the book on top of the makeshift snicker-snacker trap and hoped like hell it was enough to keep it there. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the little pest run up and back towards his jacket. “Oh no you don’t,” he said, diving towards it and yanking it away off the counter. The mutant mouse went spinning and flying in the air as the rug was pulled out from under it, but landed on its feet and scurried off. Merde. He’d have to be more careful.

Jars in hand and ready to pounce, Kaden tried to move quietly around to the back of the counter to see if it had landed back there. A flash of fur and horns darted out, squealing towards the table with three legs. “Not today, you little bastard,” Kaden said as he threw himself at the table, crashing into it, causing all sorts of odds and ends to go flying and clattering to the floor as he wrestled to get the jar on top of the creature. All he got was a spool of thread. Good thing she’d handed him two jars. He reached out with his left hand and slammed the glass down, praying he didn’t break it with his hunter strength and heard a squeal as the tail wriggled out from underneath the lip. If it were a mouse or a rat, he might feel a ping of remorse. But a snicker-snacker? He dug the jar down to the floor a little harder before the tail snaked its way back under the container with another squeal. “Got it,” he said, breathing heavily as he pushed himself off the floor.

Irene watched with astonishment as the man moved so expertly. Her eyes darted back and forth between the now-occupied jar and the precarious situation of her table. “Sure…” was all she managed to respond. With her hands now empty and the man chasing after the other “mutant rodents,” Irene’s attention honed onto the jar. She could hear the skittering of the creature, sounds of tiny claws scraping against the glass in an attempt to escape. Leaning down onto her hands and knees, Irene took a peek at the rodent inside, this snicker thing, and let out a small gasp. It looked like a mouse or a hamster but with horns. What the heck was in the White Crest water that mutated the rodents into something like this? Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sudden slam from the man, the sound of another jar crashing onto the ground and securing another creature in its confines. “O-okay, what do we do now? I mean, are we supposed to let these go out in the wild? Is there animal control for something like this?” And how dangerous were these things? So many questions ran through her head. Then her face paled lightly at the next thought. Did these need to be exterminated? Despite the trouble they brought, the idea soured her stomach.

Kaden brushed off his pants and arms after standing and taking a look at the chaos around the room. Putain. Not how he intended this to go. Couldn’t even have a simple interaction in a store in this goddamn town. “Lucky for you, I am animal control. Obviously not on duty right this second. Or else, you know, I’d be prepared.” He sighed and pushed his hair back into place. “They’re pretty destructive, as you can see,” he said, gesturing to the poor table. Shit. “Uh, I can, pay for that, by the way. I sorta brought them here.” No clue how he was affording that but tables couldn’t cost that much, right? Shit. “Reproduce exceptionally fast, too.” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. This was the worst part. People already had bad takes on animal control half the time. He’d been called an animal killer too many times for his liking. And it’s not like he could tell her these were clearly monsters and out himself. No one liked to hear about dead animals and he couldn’t blame them. But these weren’t sweet little mice, these were pests. Abominations. Capable of destroying full houses if left to their own devices. “For now, I’ll take them out of here. They’re definitely not adoptable, though. I’ll do a relocation out in the woods, though.” He hoped she would buy it. There was no way he was going to chance a snicker-snacker infestation in town.

It was the sudden calmness that stressed Irene out even more. Was this it? Were all of them caught in her jars? “You? You’re animal control?” Had he said that earlier before all of this happened? She couldn’t recall. A hand ran through her hair, the other hand almost resting against her damaged table before she spotted the broken leg. She quickly pulled back and sighed. At least that table was a hand-me-down from the previous tenant of the shop, and Irene had been hoping to upgrade to a more customized work surface. “Um, yea, th-thanks, I think,” she said mindlessly, unable to fully assess the severity of these creatures. “Like rabbits. Or rats. And I thought New York rats were damaging,” she muttered to herself. How did those things even scurry onto him and into her shop? “Right, your jacket though. If uh if you still wanted that mended, I can still take that on but I might need more time now because…” her voice trailed as she gestured to her mess of a space.

“Officer Langley, yeah. That’s me. Animal control.” Kaden almost felt like he should apologize for that fact. Almost. He did catch them, after all. “But yeah, like rabbits or rats. Only they’ll eat through your table legs. Uh, anyway, if you don’t mind, I’ll go get something more appropriate to transport them and come back.” He’d make sure  to bring a knife with him, too. Maybe a few extra cages in case more of them showed up in the interim. He was about to turn and walk out when his eyes shot back to the jacket, brows raised. Right. He almost forgot. “Oh, yeah. If you can. No rush. At all. Um, thanks, and,” he paused to look around the room, “sorry. I’ll be back soon.”

[untaemedqueen]

The Bird Cage

Chapter 17.

Warnings: Blood, Guns, Knives, Smoking (Cigarettes)

Tag-List: @imaforeigner​​, @q1st1na​​, @gensneverland​​, @autumnnflowers​​, @toddsgirl27​​, @yaniposts22​​, @babyboytae1​​, @dearlydreadful​​, @vivpurple7​, @kthfeed​, @probably-trying-too-hard​​, @si-deus-me-hanyu-senshu​​, @bts-chub​, @ayyyocee​​, @taeslittletiger​​, @yeonkiminfr​​, @topthis808​, @xcharlottemikaelsonx​,

"Hi, baby." Jimin says softly as you wake up from your nap. You were in a constant state of drowsiness with all of the medicine you had been fed for the last month and a half. Jeongguk has told you how well you were healing but Jimin wanted a real professional opinion. You weren't in as much pain anymore and the constant doting of Jimin was nice. He didn't leave your side for a minute, which was pretty impressive seeing as how he began pay back to the Jungs almost immediately after finding out it was Four. 

"Doctor Song is here for you, okay baby? He's going to check out your back and give you a check up to make sure you're okay. He's very good at his job, he's the head director of Park Hospital that we own in Seoul." You hum in response as you lift your neck to look at him. Doctor Song was an older man, maybe in his late 70's. Who had wisdom etched all over his face as he takes off his glasses. Jimin pulls out a wad of Won from his pocket before handing it to Doctor Song and sitting on the opposite end of the bed. Doctor Song bows his head to Jimin before putting his glasses in his shirt pocket. 

"How have you been feeling?" His tender touch on your back makes you grit your teeth. 

"I was feeling nothing but numbness until yesterday." The bruising around the now closed gash was yellow and brown. Doctor Song nods before opening up his briefcase. 

"I have cream here, for you. It's a numbing cream, Mr. Park can apply it for you three times a day. It'll take the pain away for a while. The cut looks closed well, your back looks like it's healing nicely." He hums to himself finitely as he pulls away. 

"I would like to do a blood sample, if you're comfortable with that. Can I help you sit up?" You only got up when you needed to use the bathroom and every time so far it has been a scorching hot pain. 

"I'll help her." Jimin says rounding the bed and pushing back his hair. He holds your arm as your legs shake to support yourself. 

"Very good." Doctor Song says quietly as he pulls out his supplies. You whimper as Jimin helps you sit up slowly. His lips kissing your forehead as you slowly swing your legs over the bed's edge. 

"Even though it may hurt, you should start walking around. You need to get blood flow to your legs." You nod to the Doctor as Jimin grabs him a chair and dutifully placing it in front of you. Jimin stands behind the chair, his arms folded as he looks at you with sorry eyes. His hand rubbing at his face as he watches you take a deep breath as Doctor Song wraps the stretching band around your arm pulling it tightly to show your veins. The amount of 'Sorrys' Jimin has said throughout the past month makes you feel guilty. He loves you so much and you felt like you were hindering him from being hurt. 

"How have you been feeling?" 

"Queasy but I think it's the medication." You tell Doctor Song who nods in response. 

"That can happen if you take it on an empty stomach." 

"I'll make sure she eats more." Jimin says brushing his hands through his hair. You stare at him before whining as Doctor Song begins to draw blood. He sits down next to you quickly before kissing your cheek. 

"Hold my hand." He says sweetly and you do as told as Doctor Song looks over your body. He raises an eyebrow before changing vials. 

"After this I would like you to stand up for me so I can check how your limbs and body are doing." He mumbles before grabbing a cotton ball and pressing it against your inner elbow before pulling out the needle. Jimin stands up quickly, without a word before helping you up slowly. 

"I love you." He whispers in your ear, you smile at him before groaning in pain. He closes his eyes, guilt taking over his mind as you stand on shaky legs. 

"Okay. Let's see." Doctor Song says with a clap. 

"May I?" You nod before looking at Jimin confused as Doctor Song puts his hands on your stomach pressing your womb underneath your robe. His face was like stone, you couldn't read anything from him. Which in a way, it was probably a good thing if he had to give a patient some bad news. His hands reach up and touch your breasts and your cheeks begin to flush pink. 

"Is that necessary?" Jimin asks with a scoff, angry veins beginning to show on his neck as Doctor Song pulls away from you. 

"Alright. Can I ask you for a urine sample, Mrs. Park?" He hands you the small cup and you shrug as Jimin helps you walk over to the en suite bathroom.

"Mrs. Park." You mumble as Jimin helps you sit on the toilet lifting your robe. 

"Sounds good, doesn't it?" He asks with a smile. After three weeks ago you signed the documents for marital status, Lee Hyunah understood the trauma you went through and told you not to rush yourself but you wanted to abide by the rules for the contract. Jimin had begun to over see the forming of your business openly. Hyunah becoming a very regular guest in your home and Yoongi's bedroom. 

"It does." You agree as you fill up the cup. Jimin sits down on the stone bench near the sink watching you as you close your eyes. 

"Fuck, seeing you like this is tearing my heart to shreds." You look over at him and give him a gentle smile before grabbing toilet paper. 

"I'll be good as new soon. Don't worry." Jimin rushes to help you stand up before sighing. 

"My precious Kitten." He mutters before kissing your cheek. You screw the lid on the urine sample cup before making a grossed out face and washing it underneath the faucet. Jimin chuckles before helping you back out to the bedroom fixing your robe. Doctor Song smiles at you before putting the sample in his briefcase. 

"That will be all for now, I will call you with the results of your blood sample." Jimin helps you sit down before bowing to Doctor Song. 

"Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to come see us." Doctor shakes his head before pointing at the door. 

"Mr. Park will you see me out?" 

"I should stay with my wife." Jimin says caressing your cheek. 

"I must insist." Doctor Song says before bowing to you. You nod your head to him before looking up at Jimin. 

"Go. I'm fine." Jimin takes a deep inhale through his nose before licking his lips and nodding. 

"I'll be right back, okay? Don't move." You hum in agreement as Jimin shows Doctor Song out of the bedroom.

Doctor Song stands in front of his car before placing his briefcase in the driver's seat. 

"Mr. Park, I have some news I think you should know." Jimin leans against the doctor's car raising an eyebrow. 

"Is my wife okay?" Doctor Song nods with a smile. 

"She's alright, better than alright, actually. When I checked her breasts-" Jimin scoffs pushing off of the car.

"Was that even necessary?!" Hot tempered lion was crawling out of his den at a steady pace. 

"I believe it was, yes. Because, your Y/N is pregnant." Jimin sticks his neck out to hear the doctor better. 

"Yeh? Come again?" 

"She's pregnant. Or seems to be anyway. Her womb is hardened and her breasts are swelling and hardening as well." Jimin falters gripping onto the hood of the car. Doctor Song steadies him with a chuckle.

"I'll run the blood tests and the urine sample to be sure but, I've been doing this a long time." Jimin cards his fingers through his hair before closing his eyes. 

"Well how far along is she?" Doctor Song shakes his head.

"I wouldn't know till I get a sonogram on her. But, her womb is swollen, if you touch it you'll feel it." Jimin nods before putting his hand to his forehead. 

"She shouldn't take any more painkillers, no drinking, no eating raw fish, meat or eggs." Jimin opens his eyes before staring at the clear blue sky. 

"Mr. Park?" 

"Yeah. Yeah I hear you. I got it. Call me when you find out the results." Doctor Song nods to Jimin before squeezing his shoulder. 

"Congratulations." Doctor Song moves his briefcase over as he gets in the car. Jimin scoffs loudly as his mind replays the single word. Pregnant. You were pregnant with his child. His legacy in your womb at this very second. Growing strong to meet the world. The car backs out of the long drive way as Jimin falls off balance. He sits on the ground before sputtering into a giddy laughter putting his head back before pointing at the sky. 

"You know how to play with a mans heart strings. Don't you?" He calls out to the heavens before laying back on the rocky ground. "Fucking pregnant."

Jimin enters the house, "Mirae!" He calls loudly before hearing feet slamming up the winding staircase in the kitchen. She appears in seconds fixing her bun. 

"Make me a really strong martini please. Really strong." 

"Yes, Sir." How was Jimin going to tell you that you were pregnant? Would you be happy? Happy like he is right now? He was happy, but he was pitifully nervous. His stomach sitting under his feet as he walks up the right staircase. His feet drag slowly as he ascends. He can recall every sexual encounter from almost two months ago. There could have been many opportunities for you to get pregnant. He steps onto the second floor before shuffling over to Jeongguk's room and opening the door with a knock. Jeongguk cocks his gun surprised as he sits up on his queen bed. 

"Aish! Hyung!" He whines putting his hand over his heart. Jimin leaves the door wide open for Mirae as he throws himself into Jeongguk's armchair. 

"What if I had a girl in here or something?" Jimin looks at him incredulously as he slouches in the chair. 

"You've seen me fucking my wife before, it's nothing new." Jeongguk gives Jimin a bunny smile as he calls you his wife. Jeongguk stares at Jimin before raising an eyebrow. 

"Why do you look like someone shot your dog in the face?" Guk asks tilting his head. Jimin can only laugh as Mirae enters with his martini. 

"Thank you, you impeccable woman." Jimin says gratefully before downing the whole martini in once shot making Mirae and Jeongguk raise their eyebrows. He hands Mirae back the glass before sighing. 

"Mirae, you know Y/N's old bedroom?" She nods as Jimin looks up at her. 

"Sterilize it and take everything out of it." 

"Sir?" Jimin smacks his thighs before looking up at the ceiling.

"We have to make a nursery." "YEH?!" Jeongguk yells widening his doe eyes. Jimin begins to laugh maniacally before pointing at himself. 

"I'm going to be a dad." Mirae smiles before nodding.

"Yes, Sir. Congratulations!" Jimin puts his hands over his face as Jeongguk jumps at him with a hug. 

"Oh my God!" Jimin pats Jeongguk's back before putting his forehead to Jeongguk's muscled shoulder.

"A dad." He mumbles to himself as Mirae leaves the room closing the door behind her. 

"What did Y/N say?! I have to go congratulate her!" Jimin grips Jeongguk tighter as he tries to pull away. 

"She doesn't know, yet. Doctor Song just told me." Jeongguk pulls away before clapping happily. 

"I just needed to tell someone. My mind is going a mile a minute." Jimin sits up putting his elbows on his knees. 

"Can you fucking believe that? A year ago I was going to kill myself and now I have a wife and a baby on the way." He scoffs shaking his head in amazement. Jeongguk flinches at the memory of Jimin's attempt at suicide.

"I think Y/N is going to be so excited." Jeongguk says matter-of-factly to his older brother. Jimin hums.

"Maybe or she'll kill me for getting her knocked up when she isn't ready." He was nervous to tell you. Would you be mad at him? Hate him for getting you pregnant before you've both discussed it. Be furious that you were having a mafia boss' baby? A known killer and gun runner's child within you? 

"When are you going to tell her?" Jimin puts his hand over his mouth as he peels skin off his lips in anxiousness. 

"When Doctor Song calls me and tells me that the urine samples have tested positive." Jeongguk nods opening his mouth understanding. 

"Let me go see my pregnant wife." Jimin says before standing up with a sigh. 

"Good luck, hyung! Congratulations!" Jeongguk shakes his fists cutely at Jimin making him chuckle. 

"Thanks, Guk. Thanks for listening." Jeongguk hums before laying back down.

Jimin steps into your bedroom and you look up at him, "Where'd you go? To London?" You ask with a laugh as Jimin stares at you closing the bedroom door. He gives you a small smile as you grab the bedpost standing up. 

"Be careful!" He says quickly jogging over to help you stand. 

"I feel queasy." You whisper to him as you put your forehead to his shoulder. It's morning sickness. Jimin bites his bottom lip nervously before rubbing your arm. 

"Just take deep breaths, I'll tell Mirae to get you some ginger tea." He swings the door open before stopping his voice as he goes to call Mirae. If she comes in here, she'll probably congratulate you for something you don't even know yet. 

"TWO!" Jimin yells loudly.

"Sir!" He hears in the distance. 

"GINGER TEA!" She calls back acknowledging him as he shuts the door. He watches you lean against the bedpost, Jimin not knowing where to look as you take deep breaths. 

"I miss holding you tightly." You tell him, making him smile. 

"I miss it too, soon baby. Soon." He wants to see your belly, have his hand on his child but he can't bring himself to do it. His thighs begin to tremor as he leans against the door. You were his wife now, you weren't going anywhere but you could still hate him. Still despise his being for getting you knocked up. 

"Are you hungry?" He asks, you were eating for two now. "No but I want a glass of whisky." You tell him pointing to the liquor caddy. Jimin eyes the caddy wearily. 

"Drink your tea first. Maybe later you can have some, hmm?" You tilt your head at his soft voice. The softness sounded guilty, guiltier than before. 

"What's wrong with you?" You ask nodding to him. Jimin's palms become sweaty as he walks towards you. 

"Nothing." He whispers before picking up your chin with his fingers and kissing you softly. 

"Nothing at all." 

"Park Jimin." 

"Park Y/N." Jimin mumbles making you smile. 

"I can tell when there's something on your mind, you know that right?" Jimin hums before smiling down at you.

"Wife's intuition?" You nod making him giggle. Jimin looks over at the cream before pulling at your robe. 

"Let me put your cream on you." You undo your robe without a second thought as Jimin pushes up his black sweater sleeves. He eyes your stomach secretly before tears prick at his eyes. His eyes stinging as his vision gets blurry. You were showing, already. He didn't have to touch your belly to feel it. He can see it. He knows your body so intimately he can tell how different you look. 

"Aish." He mumbles to himself before looking up at the beds canopy. 

"What's wrong?" You whine as a tear streaks down his cheek. He sniffs before looking down at you.

"I just really love you." He mumbles before rubbing his hands over your sides. He takes a deep inhale before rubbing his hand over your womb. His eyes screwing shut as he whimpers out. It was different, he could feel how hard your womb was. 

"Chim." You mumble confused as he bows his head down as he begins to cry dropping the cream to the floor. 

"I fucking love you, you understand me?" You nod as he presses his forehead into the nook of your neck. You comb your hand through his hair as he grips at your sides. 

"Oh fuck." He cries louder as three knocks come at the door. He steps back wiping his face before nodding to the bed. 

"Lay down." He whispers as you do as told perplexed by his sobs. He picks the lotion up from the floor before throwing the comforter over your legs. 

"Come." He tells Two who opens the door gently. She looks at your back before biting her lip and placing the tea down on the table. 

"Thank you." She nods her head before leaving, eyeing your healing back. Jimin kneels on the bed before putting the cream on his fingers. 

"I love you." You tell him as you crane your neck to look at him. He applies the cream gently before looking into your eyes. He sniffles before nodding, "I love you too baby. So much." Both of you.

Jimin sits in the armchair watching you as you sleep. His index finger running circles around the rim of the glass. You finally could lay on your back after applying the cream. Jimin had thrown away the pain killers shortly after you fell asleep. It was almost two in the morning but he couldn't fall asleep himself. He was too busy thinking about everything he needs to take care of. He sips from his whisky as his phone begins to ring. His eyes darting to the screen as Doctor Song calls him. He picks up the call with a shaky hand before answering it. 

"Hello?" 

"Mr. Park, this is Doctor Song. I've gotten the test results back." Jimin swallows thickly as he stares at your naked figure.

"Go on." He says in the quiet room. 

"Y/N is pregnant, like we discussed earlier." Jimin nods his head before clearing his throat. 

"Thank you Doctor Song. I appreciate the call." 

"When Y/N is able to sit in a car and walk without pain you can bring her in for a sonogram." Jimin sips his whisky. 

"I will. Thank you." 

"Have a good night, congratulations." Jimin hums to him before hanging up and putting his phone to his forehead. 

"Okay. Here we go." He whispers before shooting back the rest of his glass. He stands up, his feet padding over to the bed before kneeling on the mattress. He brushes some stray hairs out of your face before sighing. He looks up at the canopy.

"Mom, Dad, give me strength." He whispers before kissing your forehead. 

"Baby?" Your eyebrows furrow as Jimin kisses your cheek. 

"Kitten, wake up." You groan before opening one eye. 

"What time is it?" You mumble sleepily.

"I need to talk to you." His nervous voice peaks your interest and Jimin helps you sit up. 

"What is it? What's wrong?" Jimin lets out a deep breath as if he hasn't been breathing. "I need to tell you something."

[maisiestyle]

Jon’s Love for Arya and Sansa are not the same

@sweetlingsansa

​ Your recent Jon x Love post gave me a chuckle. You appear quite confused in how Jon feels about the two Stark sisters. I’m going to address the way you chose to highlight this point: I sense you’re obviously projecting the feelings he has for one sister that George goes to great lengths to show his readers. In fact, George was specifically asked that question and his answer couldn’t be more clear:

On Jon/Arya:

Granny: Are you trying to say something to the reader by drilling into us how much Arya and Jon love each other?

George_RR_Martin: “Say something to the reader?” I’m just reporting how the characters feel. Of course, everything in the book says something to the reader. 

Yet @sweetlingsansa reduces Jon’s feelings for Arya as simple family affection. Sigh. What books did you read? Very suspect. Then you falsely claim Jon apparently feels PURE, PERFECT, UNCONDITIONAL love (where?! lol) for the sister he barely spares a second, third or forth thought on? The sister he can go without seeing again if it meant he could have the other more important people back in his life. The sister that only thought about him when he was the last family she had left. 

The sister Jon didn’t spare a thought for over her plight in King’s Landing surrounded by enemies. YET multiple times, he wonders how Arya is… even though deep down he knows she must be dead. Only one sister was worth breaking his vows for. It was only one sister that occupied his last thought before he died. His dearest wishes involved her. When Jon wakes from this “death” like Beric described and Lady Stoneheart is demonstrating, the last things that were most important to the undead person at the end of their life will be their fixation when they rise again. Lady Stoneheart’s search for Arya and killing Freys & Lannisters. Revenge. With Jon, he died with a mission he pledged himself to in riding south to Winterfell to face Ramsay Bolton and get Arya back. 

“… I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back …” was the last thing Jon considers before he decides to break his vows.

“I have my swords, thought Jon Snow, and we are coming for you, Bastard.”

Jon’s death scene in ADWD was significant. His last word was Ghost, his last feeling was pain, and his last thoughts were about a girl he loved more than anything:

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger’s hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. “Ghost,” he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold. - Jon, ADWD

“Jon will want me, even if no one else does.” (Unconditional) - Arya

George is just reporting how the characters feel remember:

The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north. 

~*~

And Arya  …   he missed her even more than Robb, so fierce and willful. she could always make Jon smile. He would give anything to be with her now...

~*~

He remembered the day he had left Winterfell, all the bittersweet farewells; Bran lying broken, Robb with snow in his hair, Arya raining kisses on him after he’d given her Needle. 

~*~

That might mean Lord Eddard would return to Winterfell, and his sisters as well. He might even be allowed to visit them, with Lord Mormont’s permission. It would be good to see Arya’s grin again and to talk with his father. 

(These two last quotes above are striking in their exclusion of one sister. Yikes.)

~*~

He remembered suddenly how he used to muss Arya’s hair. His little stick of a sister. He wondered how she was faring. It made him a little sad to think that he might never muss her hair again. 

This is from Book 2. He thinks she is still alive? When everyone else thinks she’s dead. 

~*~

Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? 

This is just so major, the implications. Wow.

~*~

“He’s to marry Arya Stark. My little sister.” Jon could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. They would wash the one and comb the other, he did not doubt, but he could not imagine Arya in a wedding gown, nor Ramsay Bolton’s bed. No matter how afraid she is, she will not show it. If he tries to lay a hand on her, she’ll fight him. 

~*~

By now she’d be eleven, Jon thought. Still a child. “I have no sister. Only brothers. Only you.” Lady Catelyn would have rejoiced to hear those words, he knew. That did not make them easier to say. His fingers closed around the parchment. Would that they could crush Ramsay Bolton’s throat as easily. 

~*~

His thoughts kept returning to Arya. There is no way I can help her. I put all kin aside when I said my words. If one of my men told me his sister was in peril, I would tell him that was no concern of his. Once a man had said the words his blood was black. Black as a bastard’s heart. He’d had Mikken make a sword for Arya once, a bravo’s blade, made small to fit her hand. Needle. He wondered if she still had it. Stick them with the pointy end, he’d told her, but if she tried to stick the Bastard, it could mean her life. 

~*~

“I have no sister.” The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?

I love winning.

~*~

Melisandre seemed amused. “What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?” 

“Arya.” His voice was hoarse. “My half-sister, truly …” 

~*~

Gods of my fathers, protect these men. And Arya too, my little sister, wherever she might be. I pray you, let Mance find her and bring her safe to me.

~*~

He glanced at the letter again. I will save your sister if I can. A surprisingly tender sentiment from Stannis, though undercut by that final, brutal if I can and the addendum and find a better match for her than Ramsay Snow. But what if Arya was not there to be saved? What if Lady Melisandre’s flames had told it true? Could his sister truly have escaped such captors? How would she do that? Arya was always quick and clever, but in the end she’s just a little girl, and Roose Bolton is not the sort who would be careless with a prize of such great worth.

He keeps hitting that right spot. Jon the president of the Arya Stark stanclub from day mf 1. 

~*~

What if Bolton never had his sister? This wedding could well be just some ruse to lure Stannis into a trap. A grey girl on a dying horse, fleeing from her marriage. On the strength of those words he had loosed Mance Rayder and six spearwives on the north. He had even less trust in Melisandre. Yet somehow here he was, pinning his hopes on them. All to save my sister. But the men of the Night’s Watch have no sisters. 

~*~

And keep him away from the red woman. She knows who he is. She sees things in her fires.”

Arya, he thought, hoping it was so. 

~*~

“That’s good.” Jon felt fifteen years old again. Little sister. He rose and donned his cloak. 

~*~

He wanted to believe it would be Arya. He wanted to see her face again, to smile at her and muss her hair, to tell her she was safe. 

~*~

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. 

~*~

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. “Let him be scared of me.” The snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there, giving her a frosty crown. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and her eyes sparkled.

“Winter’s lady.” Jon squeezed her hand.

~*~

He wondered where Mance was now. Did he ever find you, little sister? Or were you just a ploy he used so I would set him free?

~*~

It had been so long since he had last seen Arya. What would she look like now? Would he even know her? Would she still have that little sword he’d had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he’d told her. Wisdom for her wedding night if half of what he heard of Ramsay Snow was true. 

Sill worrying about Arya’s wedding night. Wow.

~*~

Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl. 

~*~

You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird’s nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … 

These aren’t even ALL the Jon/Arya quotes from the books, no conjecture, tortured symbolism, imaginary themes/loose connections/extrapolations or weak nonsense explanations, just direct quotes.

Direct. quotes.said.by/about.two.people. Something most Jonsas have very little experience with I know. The Arya quotes would fill pages. 

This wasn’t done by accident. George didn’t do this for fun. 

These two matter to eachother on a level you don’t seem to understand or want to acknowledge.