#very unpleasant! exactly as bloody as it sounds

[mobbothetrue]

Ugh. Unpleasant dream again. I was watching a YouTuber play one of those cosmetic makeover games. It was set in kind of a grungy street, people and cars passing in the background. Someone would walk in and sit down at your little roadside table, and you would remake them.

Except the only customer was this little boy. Who wouldn’t tell you anything about what he wanted. So your goal was to alter his appearance as much as possible before he died from the shock and trauma of having extensive bloody plastic surgery done to him in the middle of the street.

The more makeovers you did, the more lore you unlocked. The little boy was brought there by his step-mother, who wanted him to be unrecognizable so she could get rid of him. He had a father who loved him, and a twin.

Sometimes the little boy would try and run. But he was too small to get very far, ever. The look that eventually got successfully completed was called ‘the Wonder’. All of his skin was dyed blue, one eye and his nose were removed, and his remaining eye has the eyelids cut out. He thought his dad would still recognize his voice.

Once you finish your makeover, there are three endings. The ending I got, the makeup artist got the little boy to ride his pedal bike with him, and took him to a radio tower. As he went, he explained that this was his favourite one to do, but he had to shuffle it around a lot to not get caught. As they got closer, we find out why no one is ever recognized by their family.

They’re all hanging from the tower. All different people. All dead. And they aren’t hanging from their necks— they’re hanging from their wrists. This is not a quick death. The makeup artist takes the little boy up the tower, and hangs him among the corpses. Explains that he was worried the little boy wouldn’t be heavy enough for the rope to split his wrists, make him bleed out like everyone else has, so he filled the little boys mouth with teeth.

That route ended with the little boy sobbing and begging to be let down as the makeup artist watched neutrally from a distance.

The youtuber that I was still watching at this point said ‘eurgh. I don’t really wanna play any more of this, but I’ll put on a compilation of all the endings.’ I didn’t particularly want to watch this, but couldn’t look away. A lot of the endings involved getting the little boy to be murdered by the parts of his family that loved him. More still involved dismemberment and gore.

Finally, one ending where he survives and escapes. His looks have been altered, but not as severely as the wonder. The makeup artist was just beginning. The dream then transitioned to adulthood, the little boy now a fully grown man, when he and his twin (who never leaves him alone, now,) spot the makeup artist. He’s a drunken old man, huddled over and spitting up bile into a trashcan. They throw cherries at him until he notices— and he remembers, the one who got away. He starts chasing them.

Of course, they’re way faster, and a lot of time has been spent memorizing hiding spots and escape routes around the city. They get away handily, ending up on either side of a sludgy, gross river that the makeup artist is too vain to go through. They talk. it’s surprisingly casual and well natured. Both sides know they would kill the other, given the chance.

I don’t know how it went from there, because my dream made me start looping the running away sequence, and every time the makeup artist gets a little closer. Woke up before he could catch them, though.

[nordicmuse]

Down by the River - Astarion x Tav Romance/Sm!t

After Astarion is shamed for what he is, he and Tav find themselves confronting the dynamic of their relationship, and if it can even be that.

Fading embers crackled as the group sat around the dying fire. It was late, and conversation had dulled to the occasional mumble about stiff muscles or the notice of a previously looked over wound. Tav stifled a yawn as she lazily spun a dagger between her fingers, having now cleaned it of goblin blood and polishing it until it shone her worse-for-wear face in the firelight.

Shadowheart rolled her head on her shoulders and sighed as an unpleasant pop sounded. Tav winced. To her right, Gale was nursing a sore knee, courtesy of a bad tumble, and sat with it out sideways, wrapped for support. They’d taken a hell of a beating today, but they were alive - more than what they could say for some of the druids and tieflings. Guilt still weighed heavily there it seemed.

Shadowheart stood on stiff legs and sighed, breaking the silence. “Well, I don’t know about the lot of you all, but today’s kicked my ass. I’m turning in.”

Tav opened her mouth to speak, but the rustling of leaves silenced her, making her palm her dagger. She relaxed as a mess of white hair pushed through the bushes and Astarion stepped into camp. His shirt was torn and bloodied from the day’s events, both his and slain foes alike, but where earlier they had browned as they dried, fresh bright splotches scattered amongst them. They were minimal, but undeniably there. He’d been feeding.

“Welcome back. Not that we noticed you were gone,” Shadowheart teased.

Gale rolled his eyes. “Must you go and do that while the rest of us are awake? We don’t exactly care to see-”

“Gale!” Tav whisper-shouted. She flashed apologetic eyes towards the vampire spawn.

Astarion rolled his eyes. “No, please, let him go on. You’re so very charming. I accept, but with a request of my own. You can’t eat in front of me either. Have to play fair, after all, and it’s hardly kind to rub it in that what I used to enjoy can’t sustain me anymore.”

“You should know to just ignore him by now,” Shadowheart chided him.

“Or better yet,” Astarion continued, “You eat whatever you want at any time, but if I see a speck of gravy on your shirt or a stray crumb, I’ll remind you just how inconsiderate you are.” His smirk did nothing to hide the pair of stained, elongated teeth at either corner of his mouth.

“You are vile,” Gale berated, raising awkwardly to stand on his bad knee.

“Hmf. Suppose that you are entitled to your opinions.”

“It’s not a huge favor to ask that you keep those monstrous tendencies to yourself. Though you clearly had no problem making it Tav’s prob-”

“That is enough!” Tav shouted, bolting to her feet. She pointed an admonishing finger at Gale. “You’re going to lecture him about what he eats when I had to watch you consume a pair of boots just yesterday? For fuck’s sake, find something better to gripe about!” she hissed.

“And you!” She turned to Astarion. “Learn when to walk away!”

A pregnant pause fell over the group as she stared them both down.

“Tav is right,” Shadowheart said. “We need to stop bickering. We’re all complicated. No use in pointing out what makes it different.”

Astarion glanced down at Tav, then brusquely averted his gaze. “Suppose you’re right. Now, if there’s nothing else to be said, I think I’ll be changing into fresh clothes and turning in.” As he stepped away, Gale scoffed to himself. Tav watched as Astarion hesitated that half-step, sighed, and continued to his tent.

Shadowheart and Gale excused themselves as well, but Tav stayed by the fire, sitting on her bedroll. Thoughts consumed her. Why were people so vile to him? He hadn’t hurt any of them. She grimaced. Well, not exactly. But she had let him. Of course she was aware that he had snuck up on her that first night. But she had offered himself to her freely, once the shock had passed. And, try as she might, she couldn’t convince herself that he would have fed from her if she had never stirred or simply refused. He tried to deny it at every turn, but that glimmer was there. Humanity.

And it made it all the damn more conflicting when she had offered herself to him again. And again. And again.

There was no denying it. She couldn’t hide the bruising or puncture marks on her neck, and she was admittedly lethargic the day following a feeding, but seeing him so rejuvenated made it somehow worth it. It didn’t make any damned sense. Why was she sacrificing herself for someone people saw as a monster? Probably because she didn’t see him that way at all. Not anymore.

And then something strange happened - Astarion had reeled her into a conversation about that fateful night, talked about how it seemed to have awoken an appetite (though he swore he had no intention of feeding off of Gale of Shadowheart), and being his musing, hypothetical self, he had asked her who she would feed off of if she were like him. And the answer came a bit too quickly. You. He’d laughed it off with thanks for the flattery, but she realized she had admitted something deeper than that.

Tav looked up from the all but extinguished fire, barely an ashen glow. Lanterns were snuffed out around the campsite, but the full moon illuminated the woods in a pale glow. She stood, muscles aching and face still stinging from the slash it had taken across the bridge of her nose and down her cheek today. She told herself she was just taking the long way around to her tent. It wasn’t her fault that it passed his. Besides… she wanted to check on him.

Her hand fell to the tent flap, hesitating as she was unsure of how best to get his attention when knocking wasn’t an option and she didn’t want their other companions to hear her call out to him. She pulled the tent flap back.

“Looking for me?” a saccharine voice whispered. She turned to Astarion’s tall frame leaning against a nearby tree, and dropped the flap.

She hung her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry-”

“Hush,” he said, a finger to his lips. He crooked his finger, beckoning. “Let them sleep. If you want to talk, I suggest we wander off some.”

She nodded, following him down a winding path to the riverbank, where the steady flow of water sang, drowning out their conversation.

“What were you doing out? I thought you were going to bed, too.”

��I could accuse you of the same. But if you mean to ask if I was feeding, then no, so you needn’t worry.” Defensive malice dripped from his words. 

Her heart stung. Was he accusing her of being appalled? “You know I don’t care about that - not in any bad sense. So then what were you doing?”

He leaned back against a large boulder, arms crossed over his chest. “Thinking. I might be able to be in daylight now thanks to our little passengers, but I’ve been a dark dweller for hundreds of years. It’s oddly comforting once you’re used to it. A monster can hardly change its true nature,” he bit out.

“You’re not a monster.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“You don’t get to decide that! I let you feed off of me. Why would I let you do that unless I gave a damn about your wellbeing? When I know you can survive off of animals, yet bare my neck and let you take from me?”

He averted his eyes. “I never meant to insult you.” He stepped away from the boulder, staring into the black water. “But even I have to admit that you’re a puzzle I can’t solve.”

“It’s not a puzzle, Astarion. I just… I just want you to be okay,” she admitted, surprised by her boldness.

“I’ve survived how many more lifetimes than you, darling girl? I’ve managed,” he quipped.

You feel it, too. You have to…, her mind wondered.

Tav stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Astarion’s arm. “You might actually believe you’re a monster, or maybe that’s what you tell yourself to prepare for the inevitable storm of assholes that can’t see past their own prejudices. But I’m telling you what I see, and that has to be worth something.”

He turned, red eyes locking onto hers. “And what is that?”

Had her chest been heaving this hard a minute ago? Her breath stuttered. “I see you.”

His eyes fell to her lips, she shook with anticipation. Was he wondering what it would be like to close that gap just as much as she was? Her hand fell to his arm again, trailing down to his fingers as she locked her hand into his. Was he shaking? Yes, he was undoubtedly glancing between her eyes and lips, torn in the middle of a decision. One she wanted so badly to make for the both of them - but he needed to be the one to decide. To be allowed to choose for himself.

After what felt like many moments of empty promise, she pulled back, her hand leaving his. As she turned away, his eyes widened, like the loss had panicked him.  He grabbed her hand and stared at her, uncertainty in his red eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong.” And she meant it, by every definition.

He pulled her body against his, lips crashing onto hers with fervor. His hands cradled her neck as he backed her against the nearest tree, all semblance of his self-control lost. Good. She didn’t want it. His tongue searched for hers, a different kind of ravenous, and he groaned pleasurably as she wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers into his hair. His kisses trailed down her neck, hesitating at the marks he had left on her. He needed to be distracted from where his mind was returning to. 

She used her leg to pull him flush into her body, an unmistakable hardness pressing against her. Both gasped at the contact. Her hands flew to his fresh shirt, opening the first few buttons, but he put his hand over hers. Breathless, he asked, “Leave it on. Please.” Shame clouded his eyes, brows furrowing. “I have… scars.”

“We all do,” Tav said, confusion riddling her voice. “Hell, I have an open cut running across my face right now. That will probably scar, too.”

Though his desire was palpable in the air, he pulled back another excruciating inch. “These ones are… different, to put it lightly.”

“From the transformation...” Her confused look softened, but turned to horror in her eyes. But not at him. At whoever could have done that to him.

Astarion didn’t say it, but he didn’t deny it. He backed up a step, though he looked physically pained to create the distance. “You don’t actually want this, Tav. You deserve better.”

“I want all of you.”

He grimaced. Fucking grimaced. “There’s not a lot of me left.”

She advanced, hand touching his cheek. “Then let me take whatever you will give.”

His eyes clouded with something - relief, resolve? But he nodded fervently and lurched in to kiss her like she was air and he was suffocating. She ran her hands over the planes of his chest exposed by the few buttons she had opened, wishing she could run them along his back, but respected his wishes. She would only take what she was given. His hands fumbled for her belt, unbuckling it as she pushed them down her thighs, exposing herself to the chill night. Her pants and boots were thrown haphazardly to the side, and they both heard the unmistakable tumbling and splash of something heavy hitting the water nearby.

They hesitated long enough to laugh as he lifted her into his arms, bracing her against the boulder. Tav cried out, biting off a moan as a long finger slid through her slick heat. Astarion groaned, producing the soaked finger in front of him. And sniffed. He was fucking smelling her.

“Oh, darling,” he purred. “I’ve tasted your blood. But this is going to be divine.”

Words couldn’t form as he sank to his knees, barely giving her a moment to realize his intentions before his warm tongue slid against her. She gasped, fingers tangling in his hair. She couldn’t help the involuntary tug when he sucked her clit into his mouth, working over the sensitive bud.

“Delicious,” he sighed against her.

Her brain fogged, and certainly not from the damned tadpole. But was it possible that everything she was feeling, he felt, too? It would explain the sense of mesmerized pride she felt.

“As-Astarion!” she begged, bucking her hips against his mouth.

He placed a steadying hand over her hip bone and broke away, causing her to cry out in frustration. “Quiet, now, or you’ll let everyone in on our little game here.”

Suave as he was, she knew. He didn’t want her to be embarrassed if she was caught with him. And it burned her, because nobody else gave a damn who fucked who the night before. Unless it was him, apparently.

“Let them hear,” she whispered. “I want them to know.”

“You say that-”

“Then believe me.”

She sank to her knees, shoving him backwards so she could straddle him. She unlaced his leather pants, growing frustrated with them and allowing him to free himself. He groaned at the relief from the confines, and need radiated in her core like alchemist’s fire. He was going to be the death of her, but not in the way he worried about.

Her hand encompassed him, and he jolted, lips parting. “Darling, I don’t mean to rush you, but I’m afraid you’re going to spoil your own fun if you keep that up.”

A smirk played at Tav’s lips. “Been a while?”

“What can I say? I’ve been a bit preoccupied with being kidnapped and turned into a nursery.” But the sharp, joking tone of his voice dropped. “But, yes. I don’t often take people to bed. Despite Gale’s prodding, I do still have impulse control, and I don’t seem to enjoy meaningless little trysts.”

She hesitated. “Are you saying this means something?”

“Please, don’t make me answer that tonight. But I think you already know that answer, even if I can’t bring myself to say it.”

“I understand.”

He took her hand, holding it between them. “Thank you.”

He coaxed her off of him and kneeled, closing his eyes as he unfastened the last buttons of his shirt.

“Astar-”

“I know what I said. And I have no plans of letting you see that. Not tonight, maybe not ever… but I’m not about to bed you on the cold ground,” he explained, pushing the white shirt off his shoulders and laying it on the ground. He beckoned her closer, drawing her into another fervent kiss and laying her onto the thin fabric. He kneeled over her, supporting himself on his forearms. They both sighed as his cock nudged her entrance. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Thank Gods.”

He pushed into her, sinking in inch by inch until his hips were flush with hers. Tav gasped, hooking her arms around him. She felt the marks a moment too late, and her eyes flew open, boring into his. But he was just watching her, studying her like he was waiting for regret to ebb into her eyes. It never came.

Her body ached from more than the ass beating she had taken today. It ached for him, wanted him impossibly closer. Her hips bucked as she tried to draw him in, causing his breath to stutter as his gaze grew hazy, setting a steady rhythm rocking into her.

“Astarion, fuck-” she gasped, pulling him flush to her chest. “I need you. Please.”

“Darling, you have me,” he rasped, punctuating the thought with a tantalizing grind of his hips that rubbed her clit as he moved. His movements grew feral as he kissed her fervently, head dipping down to her neck. She groaned at the distinct feel of his teeth grazing her neck. And though she knew he only did it to heighten her senses…

“I want- want you to- fuck… I want you to feed on me,” she begged.

Astarion’s hips stuttered as if the thought alone was going to drive him over the edge.

“Tav, now isn’t the time. I’ve had enough to satiate me.”

“But not enough to fill you. And you said it yourself - it can be extremely pleasurable in the right circumstances. And I want to give it.”

“Are you sure?” he breathed, eyes wide with doubt even as his hips rolled slowly against hers.

Her hands guided him to the healing bruise on her neck, and a moment passed where she questioned if he would accept her offer. And then a sharp sting radiated pain thorough her neck and shoulder. Pain and wooziness and… yes, that. She quivered, surrendering to his touch, to everything that was him. She would die for this, would beg for it without shame. She was his, whether his heart understood that or not. Even if it never did.

Her stomach tightened, release a cliff edge she just needed the slightest push towards… Maybe their minds were more interconnected than she thought. “Come for me,” Astarion groaned, reaching down to rub her clit and punctuating the thought with sharp, dizzying thrusts.  And the world shattered.

“Astarion!” Tav screamed, orgasm ripping through her like earth-shattering magic.

He panted against her, pushed her legs up to drive into her impossibly deeper, sweat beading on his forehead. She gasped, sensitive from her climax, and fell deliriously into a second one as he groaned, burying himself to the hilt and stilling, cock twitching inside of her as he finally broke apart.

He stilled, lowering her legs and bracing himself, eyes closed as he fought for breath. He slid out of her slowly, regretfully, and fell to the ground beside her. He pulled her into him, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, damp with sweat.

Laying on his stomach, he tucked an arm under his head and turned tired but sated eyes on her. No, more than sated. Adoring.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, disbelief heavy in his eyes.

“So are you. Wonderful and handsome and smarmy and arrogant sometimes… but amazing. I meant it. I see you, Astarion.”

His throat bobbed, then his gaze fell to the dirty, frumpy shirt they were lying on. As if realizing his position suddenly, he swore, jolting upright and turning his scarred back away.

“Damn it. I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean for you to see that. You just…,” he sighed, “make it too easy to let my guard down.”

Tav pulled herself into a sitting position. “I don’t mind it, Astarion.” She cupped his cheek, directing his eyes to hers. “And, for whatever it’s worth… you’re beautiful. Unique. Something I want to spend a thousand nights mapping out.”

He smiled. “Then you’d be the first. And some horrible, selfish part of me wants you to be the last,” he admitted softly.

Tav leaned forward, wiping a droplet of her own blood from the corner of his mouth.

“I think I would join you in that eternity. We’ll find a way to make this work, if that’s what you want, too. I promise.”

“I… I believe you,” he breathed, pulling her into his arms.

“We should get back to camp. I’m sure tomorrow can’t wait to kick our asses again, and we both need rest.”

They dressed in silence, minus one boot that might have accidentally somehow ended up in the river. He apologized, but she could only laugh. He surprised her when he outstretched a hand. She took it as they strode silently back into camp.

With his tent just past hers, Astarion hesitated outside of her tent, lingering. Their hands stayed locked as he pressed his forehead to hers appreciatively. “Goodnight, you strange and wonderful thing,” he mused, smiling down at her.

It was a reach, but she couldn’t just let him walk away. It was some agonizing fear that if he left now, he would convince himself that this was all just for fun, that this was a distraction for both of them. “Stay,” she asked, searching his eyes.

“If I stay, the others-”

“I don’t care. Stay.”

Slowly, he nodded. “Alright.”

She fell asleep in the folds of his arms, not minding the dirty shirt he slept in. Hopefully he would ease about his back scars over time with her, reveal more of the history, but she was just content to be held by him tonight, and hopefully many nights after. And Astarion slept peacefully beside her for the first time in many long nights.

She woke to his gentle gaze roaming over her, taking in her face, her hair, her breathing. He adjusted as she stirred, almost apologetic.

“Good morning,” Tav murmured, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Good morning. I apologize for staring, but… I wasn’t convinced it was real when I woke up this morning. I’m still not.”

Sleepily, she moved forward and pressed her lips softly to his.

He sighed, relief melting over him. “Thank Gods.”

Between his hands running through her hair and his adoring words, she drifted back into the daze between sleep and waking. Just resting her eyes a bit longer…

Except when she opened them again, Astarion was gone. The distinct voices of Gale and Shadowheart filtered through the tent walls. Camp was awake. Had he snuck out unnoticed, still embarrassed to be discovered? Her heart sank at the thought.

She left her tent, strolling into the center of camp where Gale was cooking breakfast over the fire and sitting on a cut log.

“Good morning,” Tav said, nodding towards Shadowheart who sat polishing pieces of her armor.

The cleric nodded. “Good morning.”

Gale nodded curtly. “Morning.”

She knew she was showing her hand too much, but worry ebbed into her veins. “Has anyone seen-”

“Your boot. Yes. Found it by the bank behind your tent, actually,” came his steady voice. Astarion waltz into camp, throwing the soggy leather boot down by the fire to dry. “It’s, eh- a bit damp. If it doesn’t dry well, we can visit a merchant in town, no doubt. Or check at the grove.”

Her relieved smile met his content one. “Good morning, darling. Sleep well?”

“You mean you actually got sleep last night?” Gale retorted, shooting Astarion an accusatory glance.

If at all possible, the elf paled, but a snarky grin masked it well. “What gave it away, Waterdeep? Her beautiful sounds, or the shirt I’m wearing? Had to wear the dirty one I bedded her on top of last night so as not to wear that bloody one that upsets you so.”

Gale stiffened, not expecting the crass admittance.

“But… yes,” Astarion said. “Tav and I are… trying this. And I don’t give a single damn what you think. All that matters,” he laced his fingers into hers, “is what she thinks. What I think.”

Shadowheart smiled. “If this is what you want,” she glanced at Tav, “ I’m happy for you.”

Tav nodded, lacing her fingers tighter into his. “It is.”

Gale nodded. “Seems like I’m on the unpopular opinion side of this debate. Which also means that I might have been wrong about you,” he said, locking eyes with Astarion. Astarion nodded, and the conversation ended. A quiet agreement of mutual respect.

Hours later, Tav ripped at the buttons of Astarions shirt, shoving it partly off his shoulders so she could roam her hands freely over his chest. Her tunic followed swiftly as he laid her onto his bedroll in his tent.

“Last night,” she gasped between kisses, “I told you- that I- wanted to explore you for a thousand nights. This is only two.”

“You’re foolish if you think I’m giving you up after the thousandth,” he rasped.

She laughed, falling into their passionate embrace.

[ficnation]

“Your dad's an asshole” Part 1 - Carl x Reader

Request: “Carl x son of negan. Where they meet when Negan goes to get supplies for the first time from Alexandria and Negan’s son keeps flirting with Carl and Carl gets flustered and acts like he hates it, because y’know son of NEGAN, but eventually they go on a sort of date and kiss? Just fluff with a lil angst? Whatever works for you xoxo”

requested by @thatcucumberwhore

Word count: 2918

Pairing: Carl Grimes x Male! Reader

Warnings: usual twd themes (e.g gore, cursing)

A/n: It's a little bit different than the request, but I still hope you'll enjoy it :D There'll also be a second part to this which will focus more on the romantic aspect of Negan's son and Carl's relationship!

☁ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☁ || ☁ 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☁

“Well, hello there,” the greeting that left your father’s lips was anything but friendly. The mere idea of it not being hostile to the people who killed so many of your men blew your mind.

You decided to keep your mouth shut when a glare of a blue-eyed man on the other side of the fence almost outmatched yours in its viciousness. You hopped out of the vehicle, yawning and murmuring something about having enough traveling for the next few weeks. There was nothing you hated more than sitting for hours in a metal can with nothing to do.

“Do not make me have to ask,” your dad said when no one moved to open the gate for him and your people. He shoved his hand deep into his leather jacket’s pocket and tapped his foot on the ground to hurry them up.

The blue-eyed man hesitated for a moment before sliding the gate open, but not without some resistance. “You said a week. You’re early.”

“How about you file a complaint, huh?” the words escaped you before you could catch them, gathering everyone’s attention.

A few of the Saviors whistled in amusement and appreciation. You quickly pulled the hood of your sweatshirt over your head with an unpleased groan and turned your head to the side, suddenly finding the trees on your left very interesting.

You didn’t get a kick out of people’s attention on you as your dad did. It was just one of the many differences between you and him. There were things you were confident in, but speaking up in front of a large group of people or getting applause for something you did just wasn’t it.

Luckily for you, the citizens of Alexandria didn’t dwell long on your words, and their fearful eyes quickly returned to your father. His smug grin already told you that he was proud of you for speaking up. You were his blood, after all.

When the distinctive growling sounded closer and closer, you could almost see the light bulb lighting up above your father’s head.

“Oh, Rick, come on out here.” He licked his lips in anticipation as he raised Lucille above his head and whistled. “Watch this.”

“I’m not a damn dog,” you mumbled under your breath, but obediently grabbed the bat out of your father’s hands, annoyance clearly visible on your face and in your voice.

The undead man stalked towards you with outstretched hands, excited to get a bite of fresh meat. You raised the bat over your head before swinging at the creature with an annoyed groan. The weapon hit it straight in the middle of its head. The barbed wire and force of the strike made a whole bloody mess of its brain. The blood and all the muck splattered over your clothes and the nearby car.

Negan burst into a deep chuckle at the sight. “Easy peasy lemon squeezy! My kid is doing some charity work for you here, Rick. You better remember that,” he said, winking at the man standing by the gate.

You rolled your eyes, handing the bat back to him and wiping the stray red drops off your cheek. Negan proceeded to give a cheeky little speech to the people from Alexandria, throwing a few threats their way and bowing at the end, almost as if he was waiting for applause.

He gave Lucille to Rick with a sly glint in his eyes before he stepped inside ASZ. He knew exactly what effect his actions had on that man. Rick Grimes was furious and afraid, but not for himself, for something far more important to him.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road. See what kind of goodies you have in the cupboard.” Negan gestured for you to keep close while he walked further into the town.

“We put aside half of the supplies.”

“No, Rick. No,” your father butted in. He stepped closer to the man threateningly. “You don’t decide what we take. I do. Tell him, boy! Tell him how things here work.” Negan turned towards you with a proud grin.

Of course, he wanted to include you in his weird power plays. He was throwing your existence right in their faces for reasons unknown to you. You thought it’d be safer for you if they didn’t know about you being their enemy’s son, but your father had different plans, like always. It was a shame he didn’t at least give you a heads-up before playing them out.

“It’s always been like that. He’s the boss, he decides what’s his,” you spoke up, shrugging your shoulders. You weren’t going to give them more than that; you weren’t your father.

After that, Arat yelled out for your group to get a move on, and they dispersed, immediately getting themselves busy searching through the houses.

Your father weaved you off to go and explore, maybe help out his men if you were feeling petty. But you knew the rules—the crueler you were, the more things you took, the more Negan’s approval you got. It wasn’t your thing, so you just planned to walk around and check out some of the places there. You were particularly curious about what weapons and how many of them did they have, but you also did not want to participate in the scavenger hunt, so you decided to just let it be.

After not even an hour, you knew you’d seen every interesting place in Alexandria, so you followed one of the random Saviors group searching through the houses. You didn’t take anything from the buildings, just walked around, curiosity peeked by the big suburban homes. The place was nothing like the industrial Sanctuary. It was beautiful and cozy, with the light colors of the furniture brightening the rooms. You could’ve lived in a place like that.

While you were checking out the upstairs of the house, you heard a commotion and an unfamiliar voice downstairs. Without a second thought, you ran down the stairs to find your people being held at gunpoint by a long-haired boy around your age. You looked at him in awe. He looked badass with his bandaged eye and the steady grip on the weapon. He also looked like someone you could get on with. Damn, it was a shame that your groups were on some kind of warpath.

The teenager popped the safety off. “Put some back or the next one goes in you,” he threatened.

“What do you think happens next?” one of the Saviors asked, looking at the boy in amusement while you took that as a sign to pull out your own gun.

“You die,” he replied with so much confidence it was surprising.

“No, you die.” You pointed your gun at his temple, cocking your head, very entertained by the situation. You weren’t sure if the kid had the balls to actually kill your guys over the medicine, but you were curious to find out.

The brown-haired boy slowly turned his head toward you at the sound of the safety clicking. He stared you off with that pretty blue eye of his. For a second, you wondered if he wasn’t this settlement leader’s kid. If that turned out to be the truth, then the chance of you becoming friends dropped to zero.

“That’s a standoff I didn’t expect.” Your father’s whistling cut through the tension in the room.

You turned your head to look at him and Rick, that stood at the entrance of the room. The leader of Alexandria walked over to the two of you, glancing between you and the other boy. It was easy to put the puzzles together. The one-eyed boy was his son. It was an accurate guess, seeing the fear and uncertainty in the man’s blue eyes.

Rick called his son’s name, reaching for the gun in the boy’s hand. “Carl put it down,” he warned him, looking yet again at the barrel of your weapon.

“No. He’s taking all of our medicine. They said only half our stuff,” he protested, raising his voice. His hand holding the gun started shaking slightly, and your eyes quickly caught that sight. Maybe he wasn’t as brave and badass as you thought, or maybe your father traumatized him so much that his presence scared the boy.

“Really, kid?” Your father stepped in front of Carl in amusement. The whole situation was probably pretty entertaining to him.

“And you should go,” the boy continued looking Negan right in the eye. “Before you find out how dangerous we all are.”

You snorted amused. Shit, you knew that with this sentence, the boy just fucked up. If Negan wasn’t pissed before, he definitely was now. You let out an exasperated sigh, tucking your gun behind your belt. You stopped listening to the conversation between them, your eyes glued to the blue-eyed boy.

You didn’t even pay attention when your father stopped talking for a moment before he commanded Dave and the other Savior to take away all of Alexandria’s weapons.

Your heart started beating faster when you took a closer look at Carl, who scrunched his eyebrows in annoyance. The whole time you were there, he gave you maybe a glance or two, desperately trying to show you that you were the intruder here.

You noticed your father staring at you with narrowed eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow, challengingly at you. His gaze went back and forth between you and the boy. When you finally met his eyes, he sighed loudly and shook his head disapprovingly. You rolled your eyes and scoffed lightly, turning around and walking away without sparing Carl another glance.

Your steps sounded too loud in the silent house, making you feel uneasy and a bit ashamed because of getting caught staring like a lovesick puppy at someone who was supposed to be your enemy. And damn, how did he manage to make such an impression on you? Why did you want to talk to him so much?

You sat by the little lake in the town, tangling your fingers in the cold grass and waiting for somebody to call you over and say you were leaving. You felt bored and out of place. You thought you would get out of the sunshine and rainbows town quicker. But it took a lot longer than you initially thought.

There weren’t many Alexandrians around the area, so you could let your guard down for a bit. The humidity from the water was refreshing, and you caught yourself breathing in deeply. If you could, you’d bring that lake back to the Sanctuary. It reminded you of your childhood and the days when your mom took you to swimming classes. However, the water there stank strongly of chlorine, so the air wasn’t as nice as this was.

When someone finally passed by you. It was Carl fucking Grimes. He walked right past you like you weren’t there, but you didn’t take it personally. He had no obligation to keep you entertained, and you knew that. You also knew that he probably didn’t want to have anything to do with you, but something drew you to him.

You waited until no one was looking before following him. If he noticed you behind him, he showed no sign of it for most of this short walk. His steps were long and rushed, and it should’ve been a red flag to you, but you decided to ignore it.

At one point, Carl stopped walking and looked around, searching for something. You noticed he was pretending. He did that to make sure you were still following him. And when he noticed you did, he scoffed under his nose. He kept walking, pretending like you weren’t there.

You noticed you were getting close to the edge of the town. There was no one in sight anywhere around you. Carl must’ve seen that, too, because he stopped and sighed, turning around slowly to face you. His expression had turned into a frown, and his eye had grown cold and angry.

“What do you want? Why did you stare at me, and why did you follow me here?” he spat the words at you, glaring daggers at you as if he wanted you to fall dead before his feet. He stepped closer to you, invading every inch of your space, forcing himself between you and the town. You took a step back, your back hitting the cold wall of the house behind you.

“No reason,” you muttered, trying to act nonchalant about it all. “Just wondered where you were going.” You tried to sound natural, which was hard, considering you were freaking out about being in such close proximity to him.

Carl stepped closer toward you, knowing you had nowhere to back away now. He glared at you again, and you flinched. “Yeah, right.” He scoffed once more. “Why does it matter?”

Your mind blanked at this sudden question, and you struggled to find an answer. “Well...” You glanced down at the ground nervously. “I haven’t seen anyone my age for so fucking long. I just thought we could talk for a while.” Your voice faltered at the end, your heart pounding against your chest. You swallowed thickly. You didn’t know what else to say.

“About?” he raised his eyebrow, waiting expectantly. You shrugged awkwardly.

“Whatever you want to talk about.” You tried to keep your tone light, hoping it would calm him down somehow. This was getting awkward and embarrassing fast. You weren’t used to people staring at you like they could read your soul with their piercing gaze.

“You’re pretty badass,” you blurted out nervously. You mentally slapped yourself for talking without thinking twice. Carl raised an eyebrow yet again, seeming unimpressed by your answer.

He stared at you, looking even more annoyed now than before. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, shaking his head and letting out a heavy sigh. “Whatever. Just leave me alone, okay? You’re not welcome here.” With that, he turned on his heels and started walking away.

“Wait!” You shouted before you could think. He stopped and glared at you once again, this time with more malice than before. He looked ready to punch you. You gulped down some nervousness and continued speaking, trying to sound casual. “Look, I’m sorry I came after you. Like I said, I just wanted to talk.” You smiled sheepishly. “Can’t hurt to try, can it?”

Carl crossed his arms over his chest. He leaned against the brick wall beside you and studied you; his forehead furrowed in concentration.

For a while, neither of you said anything. You stood still, staring at each other intensely, waiting for the other to speak first. It felt like hours had passed before Carl finally broke the silence.

“Your dad is an asshole.”

You gave him a weak smile and nodded. “Yeah, he really is,” you admitted.

“A total douchebag,” he continued, but a hint of sympathy was hidden underneath the harsh words. You gazed at him in contemplation, but he wasn’t paying any attention to you. Instead, he stared up at the sky quietly. He seemed lost in thought.

“He wants me to be just like him.” You shook your head and chuckled bitterly.

“That sounds like the sort of thing a douchebag would do.”

The corner of his lips twitched, and you almost didn’t catch it. Almost. Your heartbeat sped up in excitement, and you grinned. You liked seeing him crack a small smile, even though it was barely there. It made you feel warm inside and helped you forget how Carl’s eye flashed dangerously at you just a few minutes before.

“You have a pretty smile,” you blurted out, surprising even yourself.

The boy looked at you quizzically for a minute as if wondering what the hell had possessed you to say something so stupid. But then the corners of his mouth curved upwards into a shy grin, and that was all the answer you needed. You felt giddy and lightheaded. Maybe because of the fact that he was still smiling at you or perhaps the fact that he hadn’t yelled at you yet. Either way, you were grinning foolishly at the boy you considered an enemy just minutes ago.

You watched him as he studied the clouds. He was handsome, and the way his long brown hair framed his face made him look almost angelic. His blue eye shined in the sunlight, but there was something more: it hid loneliness behind its surface. It made you wonder if he felt just as lonely in this world as you did. Then again, you didn’t know enough about him to be sure if that was true. So instead, you focused on the warmth spreading through your chest.

“Do you think this could work?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Carl turned to you, eyebrow raised in question. “Well, I mean, if we became friends… Would it work?”

He frowned, considering your question carefully. “I’m not really sure.” He hesitated, “Maybe.”

You sighed, defeated. “Me neither. But it’s worth a shot, right?”

It took him a few moments before he finally agreed with you. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s worth a shot.”

You smiled widely at him, and he returned the gesture with one of his rare smiles. It sent an electric jolt through your body. You swallowed hard and tried to ignore the butterflies that swarmed your stomach.

@thatcucumberwhore @yttricuz @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @humanmistakes @twdeadlysins @donttelltheelff

[pastrydragon]

What do the rogues smell like? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I know you probably asked this as a joke but I thought deeply about it anyway so here you go!

Riddler:

Lemon and lavender soaps.

Edward's dad was a hoarder and so Edward has a thing about his space being clean.

when he got his first apartment he kept it obsessively clean and as a side effect of this the place always smelled like the lemon and lavender cleaning products he'd scrubbed the place with.

And since this was the first place Edward ever felt safe, he ended up associating those scents with safety.

So all his soap and cleaning products to this day are either lemon or lavender scented, so he inevitably ends up with a near permanent air freshener like scent.

Scarecrow:

Pumpkin pie now but used to smell like chemicals.

Harley got him a basket of pumpkin spice everything as a gift for his birthday one year after he developed a toxin variation that was particularly pungent and he wasn't gonna waste perfectly good hygiene products!

And he has a genuine love for pumpkin taste so he keeps cans of it around to put in his pancakes every morning.

So yeah, The Master Of Halloween smells like thanksgiving.

You can still smell the chemicals if you get close though.

Mad hatter:

“Iris Poudre” by Frederic Malle, he doesn’t care that it’s a women’s perfume, he wants to smell like a sexy flower garden and everyone else can mind their own business.

Under the perfume he smells like whatever tea he drank that day and possibly like whatever sugary treat he baked to go with it.

Unless he's been in his lab all day, then he smells like metals and plastic.

And once in a blue moon when he needs to do some intense testing, cool ranch Doritos.

Except he never brings food down there with him so how....?

Mr. Freeze:

His condition causes him to have a permanent fresh snow smell which he was pleasantly surprised by.

Like the other scientists on this list carries a kind of "laboratory smell" with him.

His suit smells... weird. Like you can smell that a person was there but there's no sweat smell and its honestly a little off-putting. Luckily he cleans it very regularly.

He used to wear “Angel’s share” by Killian because Nora has good taste and wasn’t gonna let her husband smell like detergent and nothing else.

He'll start wearing it again when she wakes up.

Penguin:

“Tobacco Vanille” by Tom Ford mainly. The man wants to ooze class.

He also wears it because he always has a cigar after his lunch and dinner so he needs to wear something he knows won't clash scents with his Arturo's.

And if you're thinking that smell is strong, that's on purpose.

Oswald has a small group of birds in his atrium that he cares for personally out of affection, and because of that if you get right up close to him you’ll smell bird cage. Not great.

He might also smell like seafood after meals but not really in a bad way, more in a "Well fuck, now I'm craving Red Lobster!" way.

TwoFace:

“REPLICA jazz club” Because before he was Twoface he was a snazzy lawyer who wanted to smell like how big band music sounds.

There's also the medicine he puts on his acid burns which smells exactly how you’d expect it to.

The two mixing together isn't unpleasant but it is a bit confusing to get a whiff of if you don't know who it's coming from.

It smells kinda like an expensive hospital room.

He might also smell like Bloody Mary's if he's had a bad day.

Harley:

“Tutti Fruity Candy” by Bath and bodyworks

Unless she’s going to one of Oswald’s fancy parties, Then she wears “Into The Night”…. Also by bath and bodyworks.

She also smells a bit like bubblegum.

She smells like how a slumber party feels I think.

Just smells like fun!

Catwomen:

Has accumulated an impressive collection of expensive perfumes as gifts from various gentleman friends over the years and uses them almost at random so literally no one knows until she shows up.

She also smells a bit like cats.

Poison Ivy:

ROSES

Like a very aggressive rose smell.

Like you aren’t allowed to wear rose scented perfume in Gotham because it makes people try to evacuate the area.

Ivy could smell like any flower she wanted of course.

But who doesn't love roses?

Bane:

Harley strikes again and got him Dr. Squach products because he's Mr. manly man and she thought it was funny.

He shares John's "waste nothing" philosophy and used all of it, then bought more because he liked it.

His favorite scent is alpine sage but he changes it up sometimes.

He also smells like 24 hour fitness, because obviously.

He might also smell like peanut butter protein shakes.

Bookworm:

Musty dusty book smell.

He smells like a socially awkward moth eaten carpet.

He smells like an old arm chair with a cat sitting in it.

He smells like cocoa butter because he is an ashy bitch who needs to be moisturized.

Please buy him some cologne.

Killer Croc:

Waylon's home may be in the sewer but his home also happens to be beachfront property, so he smells like ocean mainly.

With all his free time between heists and such, Waylon often takes on elaborate cooking projects with a focus on BBQ and smoking meat. Which means he smells like a plethora of kitchen spices, smoke and herbs.

Maybe it's the alligator skin, maybe it's the jackets he wears, but he always smells a little like leather.

So the entire effect is "Bar and grill by the ocean with those really nice leather booths"

Please make him into a cologne.

Music Meister:

He avoids scented products to avoid irritating his respiratory system in any way.

So He just smells like a clean human.

Possibly lemon and honey from trying to soothe those vocal cords with weak tea.

Joker:

Is also a basic bath and bodyworks bitch, he wears “Among The Clouds”. 

He does class it to the roof for formal events though and switches to "English Promenade 19" By Krigler.

If you catch him without any scent on he smells slightly acidic and some other rogues would describe him as smelling "sickly". He's not physically sick as his doctors can attest, in fact his chemical bath raised the PH across his body so he can't even get most diseases anymore.

Because of this he can tend to overdue it on the scent to hide the sickly and chemical smells.

Like Jervis, Joker often smells like his baking projects. (Except the project is almost exclusively some sort of pie.)

[bhaalbabebardlock]

~Nature's Gifts~

Chapter 7- Sour Lemons 🍋

I am sorry I took almost a month to update this, but please enjoy this Gale/Astarion smut!

Important tags: inappropriate use of illithid tadpoles, M/M, oral sex, Dom!Gale, see all tags on AO3!

Nature Masterpost | Other Works

About Octavia | Octavia tags

Excerpt below the cut;

Link to full chapter on AO3!

***

“Astarion, are you.. alright? You appear to be bleeding. Quite a bit.” He scowled, waving his hand in the air.

“You're so observant, Gale. All of that academia being put to good use I see.” He made a wide berth around Gale's tent, going out of his way even though it would have been easier to cut directly across, given their tents were right next to each other. He stopped at the entrance to his own, pulling his eyebrows together in irritation when Gale called out to him again.

“I believe I have a scroll of minor healing around here… somewhere, I'm sure I could help you if you-”

“I don't need your help, wizard. I'll wait for Tav and the cleric to come back.” He walked into his tent, a heavy sigh leaving him as he threw his bloodied shirt aside, looking down at his stomach. His frown deepened as he ran fingers over the wound, tutting softly.

NSFW BELOW THE CUT!

He brought Gale's arm to his mouth, lightly running his tongue over the soft pulse in his wrist. It hardly went unnoticed the way Gale's breath hitched just slightly, his heart rate almost doubling. Astarion sank his teeth in, swallowing a large gulp of his blood- and immediately pulled away, spitting it out.

“That. Is. Vile.” Gale laughed as he pulled his arm away, and Astarion's hand froze, his head tilting as he listened to the sound. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, really. He found himself leaning forward, pressing his palm against the other man's cheek, both of them going very still.

“What, exactly, are you doing Astarion?”

“Trying to find out what, exactly, Tavi finds so interesting about you.” He moved his hand to the nape of Gales' neck, gently pulling his head forward, pressing their lips together. Even if his blood was rather unpleasant, his mouth certainly was not. His kiss was soft and warm, Astarion's hands clenching at Gale's shirt while fingers pulled through his hair. It was much more passionate than he had intended for it to be.

He was surprised when Gale pulled away from their kiss, and more surprised when he stood, reaching forward and placing his palm against Astarion's cheek. They stood there for a moment, Gale trying to catch his breath before he leaned forward, speaking quietly.

“You know Astarion, something gives me the impression that you'd like someone else to be in control for once.” Astarion's tongue flicked out over his lips, a sultry smile twisting his mouth.

“Whatever would give you that impression, wizard?” Gale leaned closer, moving his hand down and pushing a finger between Astarion's lips, smirking when Astarion started sucking on it without any hesitation.

“Call it intuition,” he whispered, pulling his hand away. He undid the laces on his pants, letting them fall down his legs to reveal his semi-hard cock, taking it into his hand. Astarion couldn't take his eyes off the way Gale's fist slowly moved up and down his length, his thumb swiping over the tip. He leaned forward unintentionally, licking his lips again as his eyes flicked up to Gale's, meeting his smirk.

“My intuition is often quite accurate.”

“You're insufferable,” Astarion breathed, shifting off the bed and onto the floor.

“Insufferable maybe, but you're on your knees for me all the same. Now, open.” He stepped forward, sliding his cock into Astarion's mouth, moaning as the vampire's lips closed around him.

The rest of this on AO3!

Nature Masterpost | Other Works

About Octavia | Octavia Tags

[mamiya-a]

Playing dangerous - Mother Miranda/reader

Warning for explicit content.

Chapter 4: Hide and seek

Summary:

You play hide and seek with the girls while dealing with Miranda's impossible mood swings.

The first week is hard. Exhausting even. The only thing that makes you feel good is that you managed to memorize almost all the rooms in the big mansion and the path you need to take in order to get to them. Of course, you still get confused when one of the inhabitants sends you to a less frequented place. But you succeed, you learn quickly and try to be flawless. 

Maybe you'd be a star in Miranda's eyes if the woman was actually around to notice you. 

Since your last meeting in the library you have hardly seen her. Her daughter's mild headache turned out to be a difficult task, and an unpleasant one for both of them. After only a few days, Eva was writhing in pain and believing the information you got from her sister, she couldn't even get out of bed.

 You could hear her coughing loudly every time you passed by her room, memories of your sick father always wandering in your head as you stood at the white bedroom door of the little girl and hoped she would get well soon.

Miranda didn't seem worried, not at all. The anger on her face every time she hurried up the stairs to the second floor even surprised you. She looked rather furious. 

The second week is better. In your eyes Miranda looks a little bit more relaxed, even though you don't see her around as often as before. She was either standing in the basement doing god knows what or spending hours in her sick daughter's room. 

In this way, Eveline was left alone and her only entertainment was you. Confirming Miranda's words - she quickly became attached to you.

The girl did everything with you - immediately after breakfast she pulled you aside to show you her drawings. Then she made you play outside, watch movies together, when she had to study and Miranda wasn't around to help her, the honor was all yours.

You remember the first time you looked at exactly what the blonde woman was making them study. Almost everything was general knowledge but very expanded. You weren't sure how to help with most of the things Eveline was struggling with. And yet, with joint efforts, you reached a solution to the difficult tasks, laughing every time you made mistakes. 

Eveline is a lovely child. However as her loneliness increased, separated from her sister and mother, her behavior changed. And with it... the strange things that happened in this remote, creepy mansion.

The third week is hell. Not for any members of Miranda's family but for you, personally. All these sounds, quiet footsteps in the night, silhouettes and dark figures. God, the whisper that constantly followed you through the corridors. The cold that seeped under your clothes, even your skin. They all made you feel crazy, especially when no one else in the house was feeling these things. 

You try to convince yourself that everything is a fake reality your own mind is creating yet you still feel mad. 

You managed to tolerate almost everything that was happening, but everything changed the night when these ...creatures crossed the border between the material and the immaterial. 

As many times before you woke up from another nightmare, already expecting a dark figure looming over you. This one had no eyes, but instead its mouth was huge, with sharp teeth and crimson blood dripping from it. Your breath hitched as those bloody blades dug into your shoulder and you screamed, feeling the pain traveling through your whole body.

You don't know how you managed to get out of it's grip or when you opened your bedroom door, you didn't even wonder how it was unlocked when you always locked your door at night. 

it didn't matter, nothing mattered.

 You were running along the corridor without a clear direction, you only stopped, and not at your own will, when someone's arms tightly wrapped around your waist.

Your eyes widened and you began to squirm in those strong arms, but they wouldn't let you go. You heard an exasperated grunt and within moments you were turned around and your back was against the cold wall. 

You shivered when you saw Miranda's face right in front of you. Her fingers held your wrists tightly and you were worried she might leave red imprints on them after she let go. If she let go , judging by her current state she wasn't planning on doing that soon. 

"Are you going to calm down already?" - she hissed in your face , her breath ghosting over your skin. 

You nodded. 

"Don't try to run away from me" - she warned you and you nodded again. You felt your fingers twitching when her hands freed yours. And suddenly your heart was beating normally again. 

"I'm sorry i-...was i-" - as you tried to choose your words Miranda stopped you by grabbing the fabric of your nightgown and pulling it , revealing your bleeding shoulder. And the large bite marks from sharp teeth on your skin. 

"I'll excuse you for waking me up with your screaming" - she started to talk more confidently and calmly as you regarded her body , the black nightgown she was wearing and her messy hair - you've done it again, you've awaken her in the middle of the night -"but I'll need you to explain this" 

Her fingers pressed just the slightest on your wounds and you jumped in pain, gagging from an upcoming whine. The pain was almost unbearable, you immediately felt the tears on your cheeks. 

Miranda also noticed. And not only that - when her touch left your wounded shoulder you continued to cry and she felt her chest tightening. 

"I can't" - you sobbed. 

"You can't?" - she quested with her head tilting, then she looked somewhere behind her , eyes scanning your opened door - "can't explain, then don't, I won't-" 

This time it was you who grabbed her and pulled her closer , she looked surprised and had to press her palms on the wall in order not to smash her body against yours. 

"I don't feel sane , Miranda" - you half sobbed half screamed at her and she took a deep breath in. Then her hands lowered and grabbed your shoulders , as she was extra careful not to bring you pain. 

"You are" - she tried her best to convince you, using that tone of hers , her voice almost made you believe her , almost - "you are perfectly s-" 

"You don't get it" - you pulled hard on the fabric of her nightgown, forcing her to press herself to you, Miranda almost snapped at you for doing that but seeing you particularly trembling under her , she relented and allowed you to use her body as a shield from the monsters that haunted you- "i see and hear things that are not there , but they are real. They are real. See what they've done to me!" 

Miranda's eyes followed your trembling fingers as you pointed to your shoulder, more and more tears rolling down your cheeks in the process. You breathing was irregular and you felt like you were suffocating. 

"I'm not" - you panted , lowering your head , almost burying it into her chest - "I'm not okay , I'm not-" 

"Allow me to treat your wounds" - she sounded unbothered like usual. Was she even listening to you? You needed help , however you didn't expect hers to be offered. 

"You don't understand" - you felt yourself panicking, your fingers wandered on the skin of your face until they grabbed pieces of your own hair and began to pull. 

Miranda gently slapped your hands away and she calmly said your name. A warning. 

"I think-" - you cut yourself by wrapping your hands around your stomach, giving the woman in front of you a chance to move backwards. She remained completely still - "i- ... think I'm going to pass out"

"You won't" - Miranda never sounded more sure in something than now - "unless, of course, you allow me to help you." 

You lifted your head , almost hitting her chin in the progress. Good thing her reflexes were swift. Her eyes shined in golden colour. How many times have you seen those eyes in your dreams? 

Why was the woman from your nightmares offering you help? Pity , maybe? She had indeed a sorrowful expression on her face but...why? 

You silently agreed to her offering and didn't protest when she wrapped one arm around your waist, then grabbed one of your own hands in hers and carefully helped you walk the way back to her room. 

.

.

.

Your wounds weren't as deep or severe as you thought, but they surely hurt like hell. However you hardly felt any pain, no, not in Miranda's care.

Her dexterous, thin and experienced fingers touched you in such a gentle way that you didn't even know when she managed to clean up all the blood, when she treated all the wounds from sharp teeth and when she put bandages on your vulnerable shoulder.  

It felt like she had done this a million times before. 

Her bedroom was huge , dark and awfully cold. You didn't pay much attention to it though, you were too distracted to look around. 

"You should be good now" - Miranda announced, moving freely around her room , then she stopped in front of you, it took you some time before you stopped staring at her legs and instead lifter your gaze to look at her face, not surprised when you found an annoyed expression on it -"i suggest you go back to your room" 

The mansion was old so naturally it walls often cracked at night. As one louder sound echoed from the hallway you blinked hard before feeling the goosebumps run down your spine. 

"I'm scared" - you shamelessly explained, looking at the darkness creeping from the corridor - "they'll haunt me again" 

Miranda laughed. 

"I'm already fed up with Eveline's stories" - she sat next to you on the bed , then she leaned closer to whisper in your ear - "don't turn into another difficult child i need to look after , please" 

"I'm not crazy" - you snap right back at her, if you could punch that awful grin from her lips you would, but your body felt too weak for that. 

"I never said you were" 

"They are real , i-" 

"Are they?" - you slowly looked at her as she placed her chin in her palm and crossed her legs - "how come I've never seen them?" 

Silence. Eveline said her mother knew about them , she said she sees them too then... you couldn't possibly be crazy, right? Then why, why is nobody acknowledging those creatures. 

"I'm not crazy" - you repeated yourself, breathlessly. 

Maybe if you continued to say it over and over again you would actually believe it. But this time Miranda stayed quiet. And that made you feel afraid, of her , of yourself. 

"Miranda" - her name felt wrong, as it was forbidden to speak of - "i don't think...i can stay here anymore"

"And if i help you, with your... situation?" - she asked rapidly, you wondered if she even heard what you said before that. 

"How?" - you knew you were ready to accept anything. 

The blonde woman stood up from the bed and walked away from you just for a few seconds, not even a full minute later she was back. Holding a pack of pills in her hands. 

"As you said - you're not crazy. You just feel like you are" - she allowed you to see the name of the pills , but this kind of medicine wasn't familiar to you, yet you took it when she handed it to you - "one before bed and one in the morning, they should help" 

"And if they don't?" - you questioned, firmly holding the pills in your hand. 

Miranda looked down at you as if you were her prey. Her face consumed by darkness. 

"They will." 

***** 

The memory from last night hits you hard for the third time this morning. Everything feels like a fever dream, like it never happened. But you know it was real, the wounds on your shoulder are the proof. As well as the pills on your nightstand. 

You should really have a talk with Miranda about...everything. 

 This is your exact thought as you exist your room and take the already familiar path to the first floor. It's still early in the morning which means she is probably preparing breakfast in the kitchen. You wouldn't be surprised if you see her already on the table with her daughters. 

What you didn't expect, however, was to walk past her office and find the door slightly ajar. That door is always either firmly closed or fully open. 

Your curiosity wins over your conscience and you press yourself to the wall , then you slightly lean closer so you can see and hear what is happening inside. 

Eveline is standing right in front of Miranda, who has her arms crossed, in the middle of the room. The tension between them is so thick you can almost feel it suffocating you. 

"You need to stop Eveline" - you've never heard Miranda speak so roughly. It makes your whole body shiver yet her daughter stays fearlessly in her place. 

"She's taking it well" 

"Well?" - Miranda scoffs, her eyebrows furrowing - "your understanding of well is very low"

"She hasn't ran away yet , hasn't she?" - Eveline doesn't care about how mad her mother looks right now , how just her voice is ready to tear a person in half - "I'm assuming that for more than well" 

"It's the same as the last time" - Miranda throws her hands in the air in frustration, then she places them on the hard wooden desk , looking at her daughter with burning flames in her eyes - "you made a promise, and you've already broken it" 

That particular sentence changes something into Eveline's behaviour. Her back straightens and she lowers her head. 

"I'm sorry-" 

"No you're not" - the blonde woman snaps right back her , shaking her head - "you said the same thing last time , the even before that. You can't be sorry for something you're doing over and over again" 

"But i just -" 

"Your wish cannot come true" - Miranda doesn't let her speak at all - "Mia's gone , you cannot replace her , no matter how much you try" 

You can barely hear Eveline's quiet, almost silent sobs from the door. Miranda has it worse because her daughter's crying face is right in front of her. As a mother she cannot stand this and she knees down to the black haired girl, placing her palms on both sides of her face. 

"Don't cry" - she wipes her tears with her thumbs , then she lifts her chin to take a good look of her - "you won't change anything with just tears" 

Eveline's voice is shaky as she speaks again. 

"She's different, mother, she-" 

"i don't like her, sweetheart" - Miranda's words make you and Eveline both freeze at the same time. 

"She's scared, she's sacred when she's alone, she's scared when she's with us , with you" - the girl speaks fast , afraid her mother might shut her up any given moment -"she's scared and she still stays , i think she can be-" 

"Enough" - oh that voice, that tone , can haunt you in your nightmares forever, you're sure of it - "I'll not hear another word, you lost your mother, you'll not have another one. Stop before i force you to do so." 

The girl's body looks dead , with no will for life, and for a moment she relaxes so much in her mother's arms that it really seems like she is just a corpse, nothing more. Then she raises her head slightly and whispers. 

"I'm sorry, Miranda" 

Eveline runs out of the room before the blonde woman in front of her can say anything, or even react in some way. She's only left with lifted eyebrows and slightly parted mouth. 

The girl gives you a sorrowful look as she sees you at the door , pressed against the wall , hidden from their eyes. She doesn't get mad when she realises you've been spying on them. No she just speaks calmly, but her voice is as low as a whisper. 

"You do not belong here" - she begins to slowly move backwards, every step more silent than the other - "and i can't help you anymore" 

Eveline is gone within seconds. 

The loud crashing noise from inside the room is so sudden it makes you gasp in both suprise and fear. You peak just the slightest and you freeze. 

Miranda's finger is already pointing at you as your eyes meet hers. She not only looks angry but violent. You notice the broken chair next to the door before her finger can curl up and calls you. 

Withdraws you - because your legs almost move on their own. 

"Don't be noisy, girl" - she commands - "it will only bring you harm." 

"I'm sorry, i didn't mean to-" 

Miranda releases the collar of your shirt and you only now realise she's been holding it. You also can't help but notice how close her face was to yours. How? When-?

"I'm sick of excuses" - that tone of hers is different, you've never heard it before. Sadness? She pinches the bridge of her nose. - "Go" - she urges you - "leave" 

She pushes you almost to the door when you squirm in her arms and actually manage to break free. Strange. Her grip from last night felt much more stronger. 

"Before that Miranda -" 

"I don't care about last night" - she groans , awfully annoyed - "it's in the past , forget it , i assure you it won't happen again" 

Ah yes , last night. Your nightmares, the creatures , the wounds , the blood , the tears that rolled from your eyes and dammed Miranda's skin. Surprisingly enough that isn't what you want to discuss, well it was - before you saw the scene between Eveline and her...mother. Now you are wondering....

"Is Eveline adopted?" - the pushing of hands behind your back stops immediately. And Miranda grows silent. You know you managed to hit a nerve. 

"Eva...wanted a sister" - the blonde woman moves to her desk and sits on her comfortable chair while you only take a few steps to be closer to her , stopping somewhere in the middle of her office. So your speculations are true - Eveline isn't her biological daughter. 

"And Eveline is younger?" - you don't know when this guilty feeling towards the little girl started, but you feel like you need to defend her even from her mother. 

"Older , by three years" - Miranda explains , you can't see her face since she's lowered down, in search for something in the drawers under her desk - "Eva is eight , Eveline's eleven" 

Miranda's fingers are practically shaking as she grabs her pack of cigarettes from the drawers and lights one up. The awful smell of nicotine almost immediately reaches you and you wrinkle your nose. 

"You don't treat her right, Miranda" - you explain, your hands turning into fists. 

"You're noone to judge" - you hate how the smoke from the cigarette covers her face , making you unable to see her actual emotions. 

"No , but i have eyes , so does Eveline" - you begin to explain, resisting the urge to grab that hideous thing from between her lips and throw it away. - "besides that she has feelings, and you're hurting them , you're hurting her" 

The difference between how Miranda talked and acted with Eva is enormous. Eveline must feel awful about all of this. You don't know why you care so much , but you won't allow it. 

"It's not my fault" - the familiar loud and rough tone of her voice is back the moment she presses the tip of her cigarette to the surface of the desk , leaving yet another burnt mark - "that her mother left her" 

"You are her mother now , act like it" 

Miranda releases a hissing sound, almost a laugh, but it's forced and filled with anger. 

"You'll suffer, girl" - she warns you - "bravery is not always rewarded" 

She can barely sit still and not fully unleash her anger at you , you know that , mainly judging by the twitching of her lips. You know you're walking on thin ice , and yet...

"I know she feels unloved" 

The desk is swiftly moved to the side and Miranda is already up and walking towards you with a pointed finger before you can even take a step back. 

You can't even describe her anger , it's twisting her face and guiding her legs. 

You blick and her nail digs in your chest, you blink again and you're already being pushed back to the door, you blink a third time and you trip on the carpet , falling down in Miranda's legs. 

"You're noone, noone, nothing" - she hisses out the words like a snake , then she points at the door - "out , out before i decide you're not worthy to even stand on my floors." 

This time you obey her command.

***** 

"Eva , sweetie, what a suprise" - you give the blonde girl walking into the living room a wide smile and your heart warms up when she returns it - "feeling better?" 

"A little..."- she rubs her eyes with tiny hands as she sits on the sofa next to her sister , Eveline whispers something to her and she nods. 

"Wouldn't it be better if you come to us after you're fully recovered?" - you start to rant to her about her sickness - "i don't think it's a good idea to force yourself to walk around while you're still sick. Besides your mother will-" 

"Mommy knows I'm out of bed" - she takes a peak at the bord game on the table, you wish she can't tell apart the figures and how you're brutally loosing to Eveline - "and this...flu i got it's periodic, sometimes i feel great - sometimes i feel like i'm dying but i'm tired of staying alone in my room when i feel healthy" 

You purse your lips. No , she definitely should stay in her bed until she's completely healthy but... you can't say no her cute face and begging eyes. You fold immediately. 

"Alright then" - you turn to the table and the pack of figures on the bord - "let's start over so you can play with us" 

"No , that game is boring" - she declares. 

"It's not!" - Eveline interfaces, crossing her arms in front of her chest - "if you read and actually follow the rules it's pretty interesting" 

Eva yawns on purpose. You laugh when Eveline murmurs something in response. 

"I know you like card games and the bets that come with them , but mother is not around to watch for your cunning methods of cheating" 

"I don't cheat!"

The black haired girl gently pokes her ribs and Eva giggles. 

"Cheater" - she calls her. 

"No!" - Eva laughs, moving around and trying to escape the tickling from her sister - "Stop" 

You laugh along with them. The kids are lovely when they are not influenced by their mother's odd behaviour. 

"Are you two up for hide and seek?" - you propose a game idea - "I don't want to brag...but I'm pretty good at it" 

"You haven't played with us" - Eveline grins widely beside you. 

"Is that a bet?" - you lift an eyebrow and return her cunning smile. Eva's eyes shine as sapphires as she hears her probably favourite word. 

"Oh yes , it is" - she confirms. 

.

.

.

After lots of arguing, the three of you decide that you should seek them and they should hide. The distant giggles are already gone when you finish counting to one hundred. 

And the game begins. 

In the first round you manage to find both of the girls pretty easily. Guessing they would probably hide in their own comfort, which would me their rooms - you check there first and you're even surprised to find Eva hiding under her bed. 

Now for Eveline you spend a little more time in search but you eventually find her in the kitchen. 

"Again!" - Eva urges, unable to bear the fact that she just lost - "Let's play again!" 

In the second round you know to they wouldn't hide in the same places , neither in their rooms anymore or any familiar room. Eveline is in a hidden small chamber under the stairs, she screams when you open the door, unsure how you managed to find her there. Eva is predictable - her mother's bedroom is not the best option for her. 

"She's actually good" - Eva whispers to her sister. 

"We should try harder" - Eveline proposes and the other girl nods. 

In the third round however they are nowhere to be found. You search everywhere, the whole house - nothing, nowhere. You start to panic at some point but you quickly calm yourself, at least you know they are here , and if you're unable to find them they'll go out themselves. You start to seek around more carefully for a second time.

And yet again you find nothing. 

There's only one place you can think of where you haven't searched for them. But they can't be there , they shouldn't. Neither you should go to seek them there. Yet you find yourself already taking the stairs to the lower level of the mansion. 

The door for the basement is large, metal and old. The rust on it can be seen from miles away. You are surprised when you press the handle and realize that it is actually unlocked. God, this door is heavy, you can hardly open it. How exactly does Miranda handle this constant opening and closing.? You know the woman is in great shape but it just weighed too much. Oh and that hideous screeching sound , it's awful. 

 The room is dark, barely lit, it's composed of concrete walls and ceiling. The only source of light comes from the dim and flickering fluorescents hanging from the ceiling. The smell of chemicals and cleaning products fills the room, making it heavy and thick. There are various lab tables scattered around the room, covered in many test tubes and equipment. 

So this is Miranda's laboratory. It looks rather unused. You're too busy to wander around a look at almost every single unfamiliar thingie on the old tables to hear another door being unlocked. 

Your head shifts to the close by sound and you panic , your heart beating rapidly as you quickly hide behind a large lab table. The door opens a second after that. 

The almost silent footsteps echo from the floor up through the air and bump hardly against your ears. You put a hand over your mouth, trying your best not to breathe, to be quiet and invisible. 

It works, for a while. Miranda walks around her laboratory freely and you use the darkness of the room to hide yourself better. She hums to herself a calming melody as she writes something in a notebook. 

Then her head turns to the door. Shit , you left it open. Your breath hitches as she moves to the door , but she never gets even close to it. Instead she stops in the middle of the room. A single tap of her foot on the floor makes you shiver. That woman had no right to be this scary. 

"Eveline?" - she unsurely asks. When nobody answers her , she tilts her head down and she quietly laughs. She's not only scary but crazy , crazier than you for sure. 

The basement door is closed and locked within seconds. That makes you uncomfortable. Your only way out is not an option anymore. On top of that Miranda starts to walk directly to your direction. You try to blend with the darkness even more...but she doesn't stop. 

She can't possibly know you're hiding there. Right? 

Her hand firmly grabs and tugs your hair , answering your question immediately. She doesn't even look at you while she drags you out of your hiding place. No matter how much you squirm and kick your legs around - she doesn't let go of you. 

"Ow, Miranda!" - you scream, it feels like she's not tugging on your hair but your actual skin - "you're hurting me!" 

"Please, this is nothing" - finally she drags you fully from behind the lab table and you only manage to blink before she throws you to a side and your back hits the hard wall , you groan in pain - "i can bring you much more pain , if you continue to disobey and ignore my words" 

"I'm sorry i was trying to-" 

"Are you deaf , girl?" - she scoffs as she buckles her knees down, in order to be at your eye level - "i already said I'm sick of excuses, so fucking sick" 

Her hands grasps your shoulder, your wounded shoulder. The one she personally treated last night. Her fingers dig into your skin and you resist a scream but as her force increases you can't hold your voice back. 

"When i speak - you listen" - she lifts your chin up , unbothered by the tears rolling down your cheeks or the blood from your wounds soaking her fingers - "what did i tell you about the basement?" 

You gag , unsure if the liquid inside your mouth is saliva or blood. You rather not get the answer to that question. 

"It's... forbidden" - you whisper. 

"Louder" - she urges you - "it's forbidden, say it louder" 

"The basement is forbidden" - you repeat yourself, your tears dripping from your chin down to your shirt. 

"For who?" - her other hand grabs you by the hair and pulls your head up , forcing you to look into her eyes. The eyes of a mad woman. The eyes from your nightmares. 

"For me , it's forbidden for me" 

She finally releases you , and you curl up on the floor , the pulsating pain from your shoulder occupying your thoughts. 

"Then - why are you here?" - the anger in her voice is almost unbearable, and your only answer is a silent sob. She slaps her foot on the floor making you shiver - "answer me!" 

"The kids!" - you scream, covering your crying face with shaking hands - "we were playing hide and seek , i couldn't find them and i-" 

She grabs you again, this time she's careful, her hand is not even close to your wounded shoulder. She takes her time to guide you to the door. Before she can unlock it though she stares at it for a moment, then she turns to you.

"Eveline is in the forest, deep in the woods , don't search for her she'll be back for dinner" - she begins to explain, her hand gently rubbing circles on your back. Why? - "Eva is in the attic, go find her" 

You didn't even know the mansion had an attic. 

"How- how do you know?" 

Miranda smiles. You hate that smile and at this moment you're almost sure you hate her as a whole. 

"And you're asking" - she scoffs - "they are my daughters , and i know everything about them" 

Everything about them? To the last detail? To the point where she knows where they are even though she hasn't seen them all day? Impossible. 

You're thrown out of the basement before you can ask her anything else. The doors locks behind you immediately.

*****

Eva is shocked when you find her exactly where Miranda told you she was - hidden in the attic. Eveline comes proudly from the woods just before dinner. Miranda looks unbothered at the table, smiling at her children like nothing happened today. 

Everything feels wrong. This is your only thoughts as you lay down in your bed. You turn around and around in it , unable to find sleep. And then you hear it - the soft calling of your name , followed by the banging of drums. But from where? 

Somewhere low...the first floor, the basement, the core of the earth? 

You get up, as if enchanted by the noises and begin to blindly follow their lead.

[sailtomarina]

I think we should get married

They had been talking about their last trip, the one where they had gone to the Blue Lagoon to experience the social media craze for themselves and investigate the source of the hot springs. Granger was excited to document the fire salamanders in person and Draco had to drag her away at the end of each day to soak in the waters.

“—but Draco, this is our chance to see the salamanders mating in their natural habitat, the literal reason these volcanic fields even exist the way that they do!”

“I. Do. Not. Care. We’ve seen them mate three times now! I want my mud mask.”

And now they were planning their next trip to a place Draco had never even given the slightest consideration but Hermione insisted was at the very least a bucket list sort of destination.

“There must be superior casinos in more exotic locations, love.”

“But it’s Vegas, the city of Lost Wages, of Second Chances, the ultimate Sin City. And that doesn’t even include the bloody Grand Canyon.”

Draco snorted into his tea mug, resulting in an unpleasant sensation in his aquiline nose. “As if a Malfoy could lose wages like that. And you’ve already given me the only second chance I need, and all the sins of my dreams.”

“Well, while we’re there, I think we should get married at a chapel, maybe even the Little White Chapel if we’re aiming for the full experience—”

This time, it was a full mouthful of Earl Grey sprayed across the table in a manner that would have had his mother falling into a dead faint.

“Excuse me, what?”

Hermione continued on uninterrupted as she shuffled through her stack of papers, lifting up different sheets for his viewing. “If that’s too gauche, then there are some perfectly lovely alternatives at the Bellagio, or outdoors at the Flamingo and Tropicana—”

“Wait a minute, stop.”

Her mouth hung open, eyes rounded at his raised palm.

“Chapels? Marriage? Did you just propose to me?”

Now she was smirking at him. Her, smirking at him, the one with the trademark Malfoy smirk.

“Oh, I’m sorry, should I have done things in a slightly more conventional manner? Or perhaps you’d like me down on one knee.” 

Before he could even reply, she swept up and around the table quickly before dropping down on a knee in front of him. She gazed upward still smiling that damn smile, all predatory teeth and crinkled eyes.

“Draco Malfoy, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Liquid dripped off his chin onto their clasped hands. He could smell the bergamot mingling with the wisteria’s heavy scent from above them. If not for the bloody tea, their reversed positions, her damn chapels, this would have all the appearance of a romantic proposal, not too unlike his own intentions for the near future.

“If I say yes, what are the chances of a do over, or at the very least, a re-telling of this proposal where we swap places?”

She didn’t even bat an eyelash before responding. “Not on your life, Malfoy. And speaking of last names, I’m not taking yours, either. You may consider, however, taking mine.”

Draco Lucius…Granger.

He shuddered at the very thought of it, but perhaps it was one of…delight? To shed the Malfoy name, centuries of history, responsibility, pride, and now shame. He had originally planned on rising out of the ashes, bringing new meaning to the family name, but hadn’t even considered casting it aside completely.

“‘Draco Granger’ doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, does it?” The syllables rolled around his mouth awkwardly.

“‘Draco Malfoy Granger’ sounds lovely, and that way I can still call you ‘Malfoy’ when you irk me.”

“There’s no getting out of this now, is there?”

Standing up, she pecked him on the nose. “There really isn't. You also still haven’t given me an answer.”

She squealed as he quickly stood up, hoisted her up into his arms, and deposited her onto the table.

“Draco! Your tea is soaking into my dress!”

“I don’t care, and you deserve it. Yes, my answer is yes.”

If the wisteria could talk about what happened next, it would choose not to, for what other purpose could there be for a curtain of flowers than to keep secrets?

[darklordofthesimp]

GN birdy Drabble time!!!!

So adding onto my last drabble where König comforts Birdy… could you imagine if Ghost thinks to check on Birdy that night?

Over the past week and a half Ghost had time to think on what he’d said during his attempt at an intervention- almost nothing but time to think, considering Birdy still hasn’t spoken to him outside of necessity since and he’s returned the favor so far, not that it’s been enjoyable. He holds his ground firmly on the opinion that it’s a horrible idea to develop affectionate feelings towards the same person who violently rearranged your skull upon meeting you, although… he’s ready to admit, at least to himself, that he could’ve perhaps conveyed that concern in a less harsh way. In his defense, he’s never claimed to be known for patience or good bedside manner.

He still worries about them though and he knows damn well that they’re stubborn just like him when it comes down to it- neither of them are likely to concede and make up anytime soon, so he watches from a distance and tries to make sure they aren’t getting worse again or losing too much sleep. They had been making great progress lately but he knows from experience all that healing could be erased with a blink if anything happens while he’s not there as their safety net, and god only knows the recent extra exposure to that bloody big bastard has probably made it worse. So Ghost contents himself for now with stopping by in the early mornings when they’re most likely to be woken up by unpleasant memories- and if his new routine interrupts the little sleep he manages in between his own haunted dreams, than he supposes that’s the price he pays for not having the balls to man up and speak to them directly about their little game of chicken. So far, to his great relief, they haven’t been having much of any trouble but good things rarely last in their line of work, so he keeps a close eye on them anyway.

Ghost is jolted awake that night by muffled sounds he’s not sure are real or perhaps the remnants of a bad dream now forgotten. It’s a bit earlier than he usually checks on Birdy, but seeing as he’s already awake and isn’t likely to sleep for a while, he figures he might as well check it out. The quiet of the hall almost convinces him that everything is fine- only for him to see the door busted open in the way only one person on the base can manage and knows exactly what that means. Ghost’s heart drops at the sight- one of the very rare things he respects about könig is that he knows better than to stick around when Birdy is panicking, he knows well to get Ghost in that situation- which only makes the implications more disturbing. His stomach flips as he rushes to the doorway and looks inside to see exactly what he feared and more.

This… this might be one of his worst nightmares, along with Birdy being injured and, god forbid, the day he almost lost them for good to that fucking mammoth of a man. The one they’re currently sprawled in the lap of, sound asleep like nothing is wrong despite the whole scenario being it nothing but wrong. Their body is draped carefully over his, their hands entwined even in sleep, one giant hand cupping their cheek- it all reeks of some twisted version of a saccharine sweet display of domesticity. Like He has any right to touch them with the same hands that scarred them physically and mentally, the same ones that they were so terrified of just a few months ago that it would occasionally bring them to the brink of a psychotic breakdown.

The boiling rage that scalds him from the inside out in that moment would make even Ares blush- and the only thing stopping him from physically ripping that pretentious piece of shit off them and tearing him a new one is the likelihood that he might accidentally hurt Birdy in the process and scare them even more than being suddenly woken up to a fight would. He stares at their peaceful expression with a white knuckle grip on the doorframe and wonders how they can let him near them, how they can forgive him so easily and give over this part of themself, something they hardly even let Ghost himself see- and that’s when it hits him.

The sensation of ice water poured over his head envelops him as he realizes why exactly he hates König so much in this moment, and why he’s even angry at Birdy of all people. He’s fucking jealous. Of all things, he’s fucking jealous that König is the one they trust to sleep next to them, something he never dared to try, something that they never asked of him. And now they never will because he’s fucked everything up as per usual, pushed people that he cares about away because of course he did. Trust Simon Riley to fuck up one of the few good things he has left just because he’s a hard headed cunt, but what hurts worse is realizing they thought he didn’t care anymore- that he left them to fend for themself and it lead to them avoiding him and asking the monster that hurt them for help because they…they can’t trust him anymore.

And That… that’s the thought that does him in. He releases his grip on the doorframe, and takes one silent, measured step backwards before looking at their face again. They seem happy, actually relaxed in rest for once, and if that doesn’t send a stab of pain up his chest worse than any bullet… but they’re safe and happy, and damned selfish desires aside that’s all he wants; so he takes one more step back, eyes never leaving their form.

Ghost’s about to turn and take the longest walk back to his bunk that he’s ever experienced when he sees movement, looks up and sees König staring back at him with slightly droopy but alert eyes. They lock eyes for a moment, equally analyzing the others intentions and the seconds seem to drag until Ghost gives him a slow nod. At this, König seems to relax whatever knot of tension was keeping his back up straight and settles back against the wall again, giving Ghost one last questioning but appreciative glance before closing his eyes.

Simon turns back out into the hall without looking into the room again, and trods back to his own room. He’ll limp it off, that he’s sure of. That’s what he always does, rub dirt in the wounds and carry on no matter how heavy the load. It doesn’t matter if he pulls the balaclava off so rough that a seam rips. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. And maybe, just maybe, if he keeps repeating it, then maybe his eyes will stop burning.

—

Hope you liked the follow up! Gotta love that sweet sweet Ghost angst huh? König has no idea wtf is happening with Ghost, he’s just happy he didn’t get the shit beaten out of him 💀 meanwhile Birdy is out like a fuckin light completely oblivious to the idiots that are completely rethinking their lives during this.

Anywho, happy shadow unbanning!! I suppose this is my gift for ur release from tumblr jail 🥳

OH MY GOD STOP THE WAY THAT KONIG OPENS HIS SLEEPY LIL PEEPERS AND STRAIGHTENS TF UP. I IMAGINE HIS HAND ON BIRDY JUST TIGHTENS AS HE STARES GHOST DOWN LIKE TF YOU WANT BITCH ASS. BUT THEN THEIR LIL MOMENT OF UNDERSGANDING AND THE WAY KONIG KINDA JUST NESTLES AND GOES BACK TO SLEEP BROOOOO.

See this is when Ghost and Sunshines arc would start.

[not-a-big-slay]

Until it doesn't hurt

kaz brekker x fem!reader

warnings: talks of murder, slavery,

a/n: long ahh chapter, but thats what you get as an apology for waiting. i didnt forget about this series and id be damned if i ever would. there are only two chapters left- part 12 and the epilogue, so please stick around and i will try to get them out sooner than this chapter. it was almost half a fuckin year??!!! oh i need a wake up call goddamn. anyway, thank you for reading it and the positive comments here and on wattpad! enjoy this chapter :)

part 11/13:

previous part: part 10

next part: part 12

masterlist

taglist (sorry to bother everyone, i know it has been 5 months..):

@chickencouncilrep

@venomsvl

@happy-nico

comment to be added, two chapters left

"Sounds risky."

"It is."

"And suicidal."

"Yes."

"Also impossible."

"Very much so."

Jesper was amused by the conversation between Inej and Y/N. He has learned his poker partner had only a day left to finish her job. Killing Pekka Rollins couldn't be easy, so when she knocked on the door of Inej's old room, he could see just how anxious Y/N was and how desperate her voice rang when she proposed teaming up with his old friend. Their shared feeling of duty may help them cooperate and increase chances of ending the monster's life. However Inej's former enlightment that came from the hitman's good idea now seemed lost as Y/N shared her deadly plan.

Jesper was just happy to be in the same room, he didn't feel included, nor should he. It wasn't like he would join them, but even men living from the adrenaline of risks would doubt this scheme. It included too many holes that would serve trouble to sneek in "I don't know, Y/N." voiced her uncertanty Inej, "I understand you have limited time, but I'd rather be late than dead." Jesper agreed silently by nodding as they watched the girl think with furrowed eyebrows, not realizing she already is one of those choices. Jesper cleared his throat, he really didn't want to speak, but he couldn't allow Y/N to drag his friend to provoke death herself. "It's not exactly... bulletproof, is it?"

The plan goes as this: Y/N would send a message to Rollins, preferably not a dreg messenger, to meet him somewhere yet not disclosed where. First hole: the Dime Lions' leader will not listen to a mysterious note and probably will not come. Y/N reassured them he will, but didn't gave them a reason to believe that. After the target arrives at the place that's, again, still non-existent, he comes to face Y/N and some 'old friend', as the girl said. Second hole: Y/N won't tell them many key details to the plan, they are just supposed to

"Trust me, it will work."

Inej sighed loudly, clearly trying to find trust in this girl within her. "Are you sure he'll come alone?" she pointed out a part of the plan where they will meet Rollins alone. Third hole, for obvious reasons. "He won't have a reason not to. Our only leverage is that he doesn't suspect I know you, he still thinks I'm on my own." the hitman cleared up and ran a hand through her hair. At least she briefly explained to them that she had met Rollins before, that her job was sort of a revenge, but didn't tell them for what, nor they expected her to. Jesper wanted to keep his mouth shut, but it seemed he was the only one that saw another problem with her statement. "Remind me then, Y/N." the person mentioned turned her gaze away from the table covered under the map of Ketterdam and pleaded him to continue, "What did Rollins do exactly when he found out you were on your own? Kidnapped you is what." he didn't give her time to answer, because it wasn't a question. Finding her bloodied and strapped to a chair with Kaz pointing a gun at her was an unpleasant sight, more unpleasant was Y/N's story about how she got there. The image of the night appeared as if on cue in his mind and made him add: "And who was robbing him on the night you escaped?" Y/N's hands pushed themselves off the table before her legs started to slowly pace the room, hopefully thinking about Jesper's words.

"That's true. His guards saw us all escaping, there is no way you are considered to be alone." Inej supported his doubts and made the girl stop in tracks, her back facing them. Candles lit the room brightly and they flickered when Jesper thought about his utter confusion after finding out Kaz and Y/N knew each other since childhood. He assumed Kaz was born a teenager with insanity inside his genes, the thought of him being a demon that crawled out from hell also crossed his mind. No one knew exactly about his past, no one except maybe for Y/N, but since they seem to hate each other now, it's probably for their own good to not posses the knowledge of Kaz as a child. It was silence for a while until Y/N's words cut through it. "Well, he might be stupid enough to come alone," she let out a sigh and Jesper swore he saw goosebumps on her neck as she finished the sentence, "but not naïve enough to think Kaz would help me."

After Rollins arrives, Inej- present in the skies- will make sure he is indeed alone, or she gets rid of any other presence. Y/N aspires for the place of meeting to be dark, so Inej is not seen while working. After doing so, the spider will stand in the dark behind Pekka, waiting for her cue to put a knife on his throat. Jesper assumes there will be some dialogue between Y/N and Rollins before the two kill him, he fancies it as some sort of drama play they often held on Eil Komedie in a theater. He'd definitely took Wylan to see this play with him, but would rather avoid the same scenario in real life. And how they kill him: the hitman will shoot him, somewhere fatal but where he won't die instantly. Then, she will hit him until only a toe is left touching the alive side of border between life and death. Inej will then 'keep her promise'. or simply put, carve his heart out. Brutal, but poetic in Jesper's opinion. He will die a painful death, Y/N gets her money and revenge and Inej finishes a long undone job, everybody wins.

The girl turned to them, she saw the hesitation in their eyes and walked closer. "I know it's dangerous, but if we won't do it, someone else will." Jesper sinked into confusion and let it show on his face freely, Y/N for his sake quickly explained. "Someone, who holds grudges, will come for him. And they might do it in a more stupid and unprepared way. And then we will hate ourselves for not taking the risk." She looked at Inej and finished: "There's not enough Pekkas for everyone's revenge" Inej stared at her as the mastermind opened her mouth with one last question to ask: "Are you in?" Her eyes digged in Inej as they awaited for answer. She looked at Jesper first, as though he would somehow help. The boy just shrugged, what else to do, he is not part of it. She turned to Y/N again and a simple movement of her head made her understand and walk towards the door.

As she opened it, she turned to Inej and said: "Tomorrow night, after 4 bells until midnight, east stave, just behind Smeet Residence. You'll know." and left. Jesper watched Inej dragging her finger along the map and stopping at the possible building Y/N mentioned. She examined it, the boy could almost hear her mind as she thought about the route she'll take, her eyes caressing the paper streets and houses. Smeet residence belongs to Cornelis Smeet, he played cards with him before when they tried to save Inej from Van Eck. The feeling of nostalgia and warmth hit him. Oh, to go back as things were.

"Do you really trust her?"

"Did you trust she won't hurt you when you brought her to Wylan's house?"

He smiled, he really shouldn't have done that. Even when the question was probably rhetorical, he answered with a serious face. "Yes." Y/N seemed like anything but a liar. Sure, she didn't tell them much about her or the plan, but she didn't feed them lies so they would agree. And he did felt safe with her on that night. He didn't know her for long, but a trace of trust began in him. Inej, as if his thoughts written themselves on his eyes, knew what he was thinking about and smiled.

"Then yes, I trust her."

Oh, how he missed Inej.

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

She cursed herself with every step she took.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

It rang in her head every time her lungs ate the air.

Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.

Yet everything stopped when she was staring at the tall bulding present at the very end of 5th Harbor. After Y/N spat out her trauma on Kaz, she sent a letter to her employer, who unfortunetely happened to be Deln. She never wanted to see him again and after meeting him in the church, she somehow got over the fact that she has to take her payment from him, so encoutering that man twice was unavoidable. Yet she almost puked when she wrote the letter that was begging him to see her. The letter didn't say much, she wanted to tell him about the plan personally, so feelings could be voiced and maybe even manipulate him to cooperate. Y/N also chose to tell him right before the plan starts, so he wouldn't have a choice or time to make up his mind. She has yet to admit Deln is crucial to her plan though, Rollins won't go alone without him present and will run if he won't see him there, a bussiness partner, a person that sold her to him all those years ago,

an old friend.

A chill ran down her back, even though it was quite a warm evening, no wind at the sea either. She looked at the watchtower again. The Council of Tides was supposed to look out for the sea and harbors, but one hardly saw them. As far as Y/N knew, the stadwatch was patroling the harbors. She wondered if anyone is up there, if the council even existed. They could have just built many watchtowers and manipulate a feeling of safety into people. Trust is a powerful tool. At that moment, Y/N felt uncertain that Deln will arrive. She chose to meet with a slaver at the council's feet. Not that they would care about some barrel rats, but he could play a scaredy cat.

The sound of heavy boots on the cobblestone, that decorated almost the whole Ketterdam, and the feeling of the world closing in on her while a heavy stone crashed her chest, the feeling she only gets around one person, were the signs Deln wasn't afraid. Y/N listened to him creeping closer, the old urge to run fighting with her, before she finally turned around and faced him again after 11 days.

"Snowflake" he exclaimed happily, the word shooting Y/N in her throat, drying it up. She hated how afraid he made her feel. It's been years, she was supposed to move on. Hopefully, she will after this is over. Maybe the afterlife exists and will forgive her for her sins after all. That gave her hope and courage to form a fake smile for the show. "Deln." she greeted him with a nod. The man stopped before her and put his hands on his hips, shaking his head with a smile. He seemed very pleased to see her, what a disturbing thing to notice. "Oh, it has been far too long."

As much as she needed to play nice, Y/N didn't resist rolling her eyes at that. "Could we not?" she tried to not let the harsh tone into her voice, but expected failuire. Deln just chuckled upon her response, but his smile disappeared shortly after, the friendly tone nowhere to be found when he asked: "What do you want? Job's done?" Y/N quietly sighed in relief he was finally himself before answering. "Almost. I came here to offer you a first row view at the murder of Pekka Rollins. The price? I get to use you as a distraction." the hitman smiled and tried to sell it to him as traders on the streets taught her. As much as he loved a good advertisement, Deln shook his head and scoffed.

"Still too proud to ask me for help?"

If I was proud, you'd drown in your blood 10 days ago.

"You will just stand around, doing nothing, watching your enemy to die." she said instead, "I'd even say I'm helping you."

Deln smiled and turned around to walk in circles, he always did that when thinking. The waves crashed as the sun almost fell asleep behind horizont, first and only stars slowly lit their light in the deep blue sky. Y/N wished Ketterdam was clearer, so the stars could shine brightly as they deserved. The slavery she lived in had always a hole in the roof in the back. When she couldn't sleep, she used to look at the night heavens above, naming the few little planets present. There were always only five she could see. First was named Fala, it was the smallest star out of all of them, easy to remember. Second got the name Nerezza, that happened to be the first star that appeared and the last to go away. For the third star Y/N came up with Lilith, named after a child that died by the cruel hand of Deln, she was the brightest. She didn't named the last one for a long time, it wasn't special, just lonely and always the farthest away from the rest. Yet after Rollins took her and then she returned to the place she hoped to never see again, the fifth star shined brighter than ever, still alone, but the four seemed to bow to it. Just then, full of anger and spite, she named them all.

"Oh, Y/N." his voice woke her up and the girl saw him stop. His back faced her and she could fully see the hump in it, his spine visible in the plain shirt he wore. Deln suddenly turned around, his brows furrowed, eyes darted in her, deep in thought. He realized.

"I'm already a part of this, huh?"

Y/N thought of the messanger that patiently waited for the 7th bell to ring through the city. "Rollins will expect you, he is only coming because of you," she inhaled the salt wind from the sea,

"he will die tonight because of you."

Deln's eyes showed he finally got the full importance of his part. Y/N knew she wouldn't have to bother with retelling her plan, she just needed to let him know Rollins will be alone and in the streets. And all of that depends on him, he cannot back out if he wants Pekka dead, because he is already involved.

"Everything fails without me."

He made himself sound important, which he was, but Y/N still cringed. He won't even move a finger and still praised himself for helping. She put it past her though, the 7th bell rang. The message is on it's way. "In a few minutes," the hitman started to walk slowly to Deln, "Pekka Rollins will get a message from you, saying you want to discuss your affairs. You told him to come alone, a conversation between 4 eyes. You also mentioned me being there, as a ransom in your favor." She wanted to continue, but the man stopped her. "Hold on, why do you think Rollins wants to do anything with you?" Y/N stopped as he interrupted and swalllowed when she was reminded of the night they kindapped her.

"If you wouldn't have left me, there wouldn't be a point of kidnapping."

"There is nothing sweeter than a family reunion."

"He hates leaving traces behind." Deln's eyes were pinned on her, but he was thinking behind them. There was no turning back. The messanger had to be close to Rollins now. If he won't be there, Y/N won't kill him and Rollins will probably come after the slaver. Not that she cared about Deln's life, Rollins killing him before she kills Rollins was her insane fantasy no amount of stolen luck could grant her. Not even the freedom papers could pride themselves as the main reason. Kaz was why she needs to finish this job. Only he deserved the revenge and she had to be the one to gift it to him. She was obssesed with the possibility of his forgiveness if she does this. It would lift up the heaviest stone on her consciousness before her deserved death.

The girl watched him as his face lit up. "How will he know it's me. There is no proof that I have sent the letter." Yet his face slowly darkened in confusion again when he saw Y/N furrow her eyebrows and smile a little.

"Because you've signed it, Deln."

He opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out as everything connected. "The release papers." he sighed, still in awe. Y/N sighed in relief, she loved the feeling of the dominos falling perefectly on time. "You couldn't have remembered my signature. You couldn't have." it was more of a wish than a fact, he tried to convince himself there was a backdoor to this all, Y/N sealed them all though. She actually only focused on his signature, the distant feeling of an official freedom made her remember every single curve of his handwriting. When Rollins' guards were hitting her, the pain flashed it in her mind, keeping her going. Deln found her eyes and for the first time she saw fear in them. Not disgust or mockery, nor peace and happiness.

Fear. Of her.

"You little bitch." he whispered. He couldn't run, he couldn't deny anything. He was cornered. Messanger already delivered Deln's worst fear. Y/N knew he didn't want to be involved with Rollins' murder, that's why she was hired after all. His slave empire would fall if he would be accused of murdering the king of the Barrel, but if she was supposed to kill her past, she was going to kill everything.

A bell rang through the city. Quarter past seven.

Y/N looked up at the sky, a star right above her has shined her way through the mist. She recognized it immediately. "We have to go, can't leave him waiting." she stood before Deln, not moving until he does. He laughed silently, hiding behind his easy-going personality, fearing to accept his faith. After taking in a deep breath, he nodded to the side: "Lead the way."

Before they disappeared into the centre of the city, Y/N looked at her fifth star for the last time. In an hour, Rollins might be dead, Deln will take the blame and Y/N might get her peace in hell. The realization pained her, but she also saw the warm embrace of closure behind it.

A name of the star ran through her head. Little Y/N's whispered it into her ear as the wind picked up.

Karma. Coming for them all.

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

Kaz coughed when the water reached his nose, filling it up so he couldn't breathe, even though air was all around him and the hallways of the Emerald Palace were dry. Everytime they rounded a corner, one of the two Dime Lions that dragged him along moved his hand across his biceps, causing the waters wetting new parts of his body.

People say Kaz always has a plan and a backup plan for everything, and they are right. However, that was before Y/N appeared and claimed the spot in his heart and mind that he thought was either abandoned or dead. When the frustration he had on himself fizzled out, his cane was already carrying him to the steps of Pekka's place, knitting a quick plan on the way. Kaz thought the deed was done, when he ordered Rollins to say his brother's name and made him believe he buried his son, but apparently it wasn't enough. It will never be, Jakob Hertzoon had hurt many people, not just them. There could be other fools with dead siblings or parents, begging for revenge every night. Stupid kids, as he was once. He couldn't help them, but Dirtyhands will feel enough joy for all of them once the only thing functioning will be Rollins' heart.

That is for Y/N to take.

As he was slowly getting closer to Pekka's office, he didn't doubt the guards will be the easiest part. An old flame in him was ignited and it won't be put down 'till the blood paints every wall of this place. The guards stopped and tightened their grip as one of them opened a door to the office. Kaz thought of just throwing up on them, but kept it in until they pushed him on the floor and released their touch. He coughed again and the water disappeared once he took in the hard wooden floor. His ears picked up voices and the sight of his cane being handed to Rollins, then the men left and he was left alone with the lion.

Kaz pushed his face off the ground into a seated position. His cane hit the floor once before Rollins started talking: "Let's not waste our time Brekker. What do you want?" His accent rolling down his tongue as Kaz tried to stand up. The office looked smaller than his, but it gained one advantage on him once he saw the part of the room that served Y/N as backround when she said his name for the first time in a long time. Her voice still echoed somewhere in his mind and he could never find it and catch it. He never wanted to see her again, in all honesty he just wanted to put her in Hellgate, so she would never be anywhere without his knowledge again, but the R on his shoulder urged him to do this, to get their revenge and to see her at peace.

He cursed that R everyday.

When he was on the way up from his knees, a crow head digged into his shoulder, making him to look at the disgusting face the other person wore. His eyes yelled an answer into Pekka's and he frowned in annoyance once he understood. "Why do you all suddenly hunger for blood, eh? You had to plan this with her, ain't a chance you didn't." he complained while releasing a tension in Kaz's shoulder, letting him to stand up. The boy hated the mention of Y/N, even though he didn't say the girl's name, the knowledge about her could be heard. It only pour gasoline in the fire his eyes flashed. But Kaz wouldn't let him see, Rollins still had no idea Y/N visited the bastard and that they already caught up on the lost time. There was chance he knew, yet he would deny it even if she confessed into Rollins' face.

"Who are you talking about." It wasn't a question, he challenged him to talk about Y/N. However Kaz's fears became true when the man laughed exaggeratedly. "Oh come on! I know you broke her out of my house boy, don't pretend to be dumber than you are." Rollins sat down the cane by his table and reached a hand out for a bottle of whiskey. The sound of liquid knocking on the glass was followed by Pekka's hand that flipped the cup's contents inside his mouth. He'd let him have his last drink, after Dirtyhands is through with him, he'll probably throw it back out. Fingers tapped on the wooden table, disturbing the silence Kaz couldn't handle. "So, why are you doing it. For her?" The last sentence was mocking and rhetorical, quite ironic that it's the only right reason. Kaz limped slowly closer to his table, if he could get to the right spot, he should be able to pick his cane up.

With the 7th bell ringing in the distance, Rollins swallowed his second drink before he started to speak again: "She's not worth it son." Kaz noticed his eyes wandered into afar, making it a good oppurturnity to knock him out. Only if the sudden pain in his stomach caused by the petname disappeared. "You don't even know her, the things she's done." Wrong, thought immediately Kaz. She told him her entire life, leaving out only her birth maybe. But he tied his tongue and imprisoned it behind his teeth due to the concatration he fixed on his only weapon. Rollins didn't mind, he continued gladly to think about the old days.

Kaz's heartbeat fastened everytime he mentioned her, that Nina could be able to pick it up. This moment was one of the many recent, when he desired to go reverse time. Hell, delete it if needed, he just wished to be the 17 year old boy again, planning heists with his Crows, rolling his eyes at the overly-sweet endless pining between Jesper and Wylan, hearing Matthias call him numerous demonic and cursed names, entertaining himself by watching Nina and Inej silent-laugh at something stupid when he was bored. He's glad everyone is safe and that they persued their life callings, but some changes are hard to swallow and this one was still hot to eat. This crave of his heart made itself known before, last time when he saw Y/N in this very office, but now it altered a little, bringing him shame and joy at the same time.

Kaz could see a new person in the picture, laughing along side with the girls, learning Fjerdan solely for the purpose of mocking him, teasing Jesper and Wylan for being so corny. The person didn't fit the timeline, but that was besides the point. He could see her with him, by his side. It squeezed his heart and he didn't know if it's a hug or an attempt to crush it.

The door creaking turned his head around, stopping his hand just mere inches before his cane. A messanger. Rollins walked past Kaz and without a word, the newly present man handed him a letter and left. As the door shut, Kaz's hand made contact with the cane. Rollins' low and weak laugh called to his attention and once his eyes settled on him, the man brought his own pair up. The smile should've already warn him, but his ears waited to hear the conformation. Pekka lifted the letter to Kaz's eye level, as if he would see the small letters from their distance. Yet he knew what it was for sure once the receiver said:

"Speaking of the devil."

Moments after, the man whistled and within a second his guards busted the room, handling Kaz again. The boy tried to fight the hands off, he leaned back and then forth quickly, swinging his cane right after they let go a little, striking one in the stomache. The other got hit in the neck, but before he could finish either of them, a back- up came to aid, trapping him with their arms. He threw himself to sides, trying to loosen up their grip, however it seemed to seal him closer every move. Rollins' hearted laughter played to this scene and his voice continued with the same attitude after Kaz gave up. "Should've brought a gun on me son!" he laughed as he delivered his advice.

He could bring a gun, he could bring his whole crew, but the urge to kill him with his bare hands and stained his clothes with Hertzoon's blood was a virus that have spread all over him, controlling his doings and feelings. If holy water isn't enough to kill the devil, gun would be useless against Pekka Rollins.

The man wiped off tears from laughter and looked at the helpless boy. His hand stretched out to him with the letter between his fingers, his feet erasing the rest of the space. Kaz tried to avoid reading the letter, knowing it won't bring nothing else but additional pain. He often wondered how much of it can still fit in his heart. Of course when his view was filled with Y/N's handwriting and he had no other sight to see, he studied every line. Her signature writing didn't change much, it was still horrible. For a slave, it was a miracle to write at all though. He remembered having trouble to read the love note she'd written him, Jordie wasn't as helpful as he thought he would be, but Kaz lost the need to understand it. He could always find the little heart on every single one of those, that was plenty for him.

This note lacked hearts though, it also was readable and no love was expressed. It was signed by the slavor, Deln she named him. When the letter mentioned Y/N his heart fell. This was the plan to kill him.

"I mean," Pekka began to move his mouth again as he freed Kaz's eyes of the paper, "I'm told to go alone. But I won't mind the company."

He damned his pride for not bringing the gun after all.

[grigori77]

Critical Role, Campaign 3 Episode 74

"Sweet Sam"? What is ... wait, what the bright blue FUCK is this? "Sweet Sam will FINISH HER!!! In court ..." Bloody hell ... oh gods not the teeth, please not the teeth ... and that's just destroying EVERYBODY ... dear gods Sam WHY?!!!

A human shark ... a Riegel shark ... what a horrible image ...

Awwwwww ... Bells Hells plushies! Liam: "Mine's size accurate!" XD Yeah ...

"Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match ..."

Oof ... TWO DAYS through this terrain? Ouch ...

Considering chancing teleportation? Okay ... boy it sure would be handy if THEY HAD A SPYGLASS ...

Fearne suggesting turning herself into one of those giant toads and carry them all in her mouth ... hmmmm ...

Yeah ... sounds like magic is probably OUT ...

Chetney: "I was trying to be enthusiastic." Laudna (laughing): "I can't tell with your crotchety tone."

Imogen Temult, walking bug-zapper ... XD

Turns out Fearne mostly just survives day by day by pure dumb luck ... O.O

Delilah back in Laudna's head becomes an excuse for Marisha swapping out Feats ... hmmmm ...

Translations ... creepy, somewhat haunting ones ... oof ... this can't be a good sign ...

Iffodola? Okay ...

Ah ... so it's the Oxnard of Exandria ...

Healthy volcanic jungle makes for vibrant environs ... "two layer fog"? Weird ...

Aaaaah ... Survival rolls ... 17 ... Nice ... and 24 Perception for Orym ... but of course ...

To the Beaten Path ... yeah, probably smart ... oh, trust the Changebringer? Guided Grace? Okay ... vibe check, then ... heads? Go that way then ...

Oh, a full-blown RAINFOREST ... okay then ...

Ah ... they're being followed? Big ass boars? No ... what the fuck was THAT thing? Hmmmm ...

Pass Without A Trace? But that would slow them down ... save it, we don't KNOW we're in danger ...

Roll a D6? Oh great ... what did you DO, Travis?

A river? Hmmm ... is it a problem, or ... what exactly IS going on with Chetney right now?

Stick check! Ooof ... okay, probably NOT a good idea ... oh yeah, that's right they DO have TWO Immovable Rods now ...

Chetney literally turns himself into a fishing gnome ... LOL

Ooh, a FISH!!! Nice ... is it a mutation? Seems not ...

Ashton wants Pate to do something? Interesting ... he wants him to BE BAIT?!!! Oh come on ...

Awwww ... wow, Pate's having an existential crisis right now and Laudna wants him go be tackle ... oh wow, this is gonna be interesting ... splash! Hmmm ... he's actually ENJOYING not being eaten "alive" bt piranhas ...

Wow ... is Laudna really about to do a tightrope walk right now? "Naruto RUN!!!" 7 ... oh boy ... and she's IN THE RIVER!!! That is a SHIT SHOT, Letters! Hmmm ...

Telekinetic Pull? Save your girlfriend, Imogen!

Ashton just jumps in to rescue her instead ... andhe REALLY didn't think this through, did he? Oh boy ... swim, barbarian! Swim!

Seedling to the rescue now? Oh, okay ... 21 for Dexterity? Of course he does ... meanwhile Ashton's now Raging ...

And now there's something coming out of the river after them now ... oh shit what the fuck is THIS?!!!

Some kind of freaky demon hippo? Oh for eff's sake ...

Stonky's Ring! Nice save, Fearne!

Crap ... here it comes ... and it's got YOUNG with it! Charming ...

FCG casts Speak With Animals ... "FUCK OFFFFFF!!!" Oh, that's a very unpleasant and cranky beast.

That was ... interesting ...

Oh, now Fearne is leading them? Hmmm ... is this really a good thing? Stop eating poop, Fearne ...

Matt: "Nothing is free." Yeah, clearly they're gonna pay for this somehow later ...

Night is coming ... time to find shelter ...

Fearne trying to remember how she made their little shelter last time ... oh, here we go ...

Nice cosy weird nature hovel ...

Baked fish? Hmmm ... FCG's faking it ... Imogen: "Why are you making it gross?" FCG: "Well I can just wipe it off."

Night falls and it's getting cold ...

Fish jerky, essentially ... charming ... and now his internals stink of fish ... "My hot holes are all fishy now."

Wow Sam Riegel has just made a joke that has LITERALLY made Matt Mercer WALK OUT ...

Crap ... WHY is Matt rolling?

Laudna is taking 9 points of Necrotic damage? From WHAT?!!!

Marisha: "Even though I'm a Hollow One?" Sam: "Oh, he didn't remember that."

Wait ... now LIAM is taking 3 points too?

What creepy ass fresh hell is THIS?!!!

Freaky little shadow imps? Oh that can't be good ...

Shadow Cant ... hmmmm ... oh shit, they understand that shit? That's not good ...

Oh, they want BODY heat ... great ...

Chill Touch? Okay ... 27 for an Attack Roll ... oh, she went up a level ... whoa, THREE Eldritch Blasts now, when she wants to? That should be fun ...

Okay, yes, kill the little fuckers ...

FCG calls on the Changebringer to Turn Undead ... oh yeah, that did it, looks like ...

Crap ... there's more outside? Oh, they're backing off? Hmmm ... HAVE THEY been scared off for good, or ...?

FCG suggests someone be a sacrificial lamb for the rest while they sleep ... hmmmm ...

Trying to concoct some deterrents, then ...

First watch for Laudna and FCG ... no real danger, at least ...

Next to Fearne and Imogen ... Imogen: "They're sad and cute ... I feel sorry for 'em."

Daybreak seems to have seen them off, at least ...

Now Chetney's sounding like he's writing a book ...

Another day's travel and they MIGHT make it to their destination ...

Orym is now riding on Fearne's shoulders as she leads the way. :3

I'm with all if you, what IS going on with Chetney right now?

Oh, he's being romantic? Hmmm ... she puts the flower in her hair. Cue cracks about potential brain parasites ... Ashton: "It's gonna be YOUR fault when she turns on us later."

The base of the mountain ... and there's a weird lake there ... hmmm ...

Weird ground ahead ... a trap? Hmmmm ... oh yeah, that's DEFINITELY suspicious ...

Laudna's sending Pate ... oh, the poor little bugger, not again ...

Grim Psychometry again! Okay ...

Good point, CAN THEY bypass it?

Imogen chucks a big stone in ... yup, there us DEFINITELY a trap here ... shit, it's like a big two level deadfall ... nasty ..

"Fish Cut Bass" ... oof ...

Ashley rolls a 30 on Survival ... wow ... Matt has to reveal EVERYTHING now ...

A shitload of traps, clearly ... apparently it's a reminder of Nana Mori ... O.O ... okay ...

Sam: "Matthew, is a tree an object or a creature?" Matt (with a particularly unsettling grin): "Depends on which tree." Okay then ...

Enquiring if any of this feels familiar to Ashton ...

FCG casts Find the Path using Ashton as the focus in order go find the Tree ... and it tanks. FCG: "You ruined my spell!"

Somebody's coming ...

Oh, so they have bows, and they are NOT friendly, looks like ... standoff ... hmmm ...

So, who are they? She speaks Common. Um ... yeah ... and now it's time for a break ...

Wow ... so what did they say to get THAT response out of him before we came back?

Orym very carefully shows them his satchel with the thing inside ... oh, so THIS is familiar ... Temu? Who's Temu, then?

Okay, this might be all right after all ...

Oh, they know who Jirana is, at least ... that's a good sign.

Ashton has to make a Persuasion Check with advantage ... 9? Oof ...

Oh, so they're allowed to go on at least, but without any help. Oh, they can return the rest of their stuff? Okay, that might make things easier ...

Oh, so that's it? Okay then ...

Laudna: "They seemed very done with us, thanks to Ashton." Hey, now ...

Imogen goes flying up looking for the Tree ... goes back down to fetch Orym to help her look ... much better Perception ... okay, here we go ...

Just flying about for a bit ... oh, so it's like z big fucking SINKHOLE ... yeah, looks like THAT'S a good bet for the location ... back down to the others, then.

Fearne leads the final trek ... to the hole. Cue nany cracks about moist and dark holes ... Matt: "I hate all of this." XD

Aha ... yep, looks like THIS is indeed the way to go ...

So it's a big, long, dark drop ... oh no, there's something down there, but not exactly anything they can really make out ...

The Shadow Realm? Seriously?

Testing the depth ... Laudna has to make a strength check ... Nat20? Holy crap ... wow, so that really IS deep ...

AGAIN considering sending Pate ... I'm with Imogen, they're getting really mean to him. Give the poor freaky bone rat a break, guys!

Wow ... it seems like Imogen's genuinely bonding with Pate now ...

They're genuinely considering just jumping in ...

Little carved Chetneys ... yeah, that's not weird at all ...

Asking the Changebringer if this is safe ... looks like it is ... okay ...

So YES on prepping Featherfall just in case ...

Oh, they're jumping ... yikes!

Something below ... DO IT NOW!!! AAAAAAHHH!!! Laudna casts Featherfall, Imogen flies, Fearne transforms into a shoebill ...

Leaves. Endless jet black leaves ... oh, it's the top of a massive tree. Okay then ...

Touchdown. Very roughly ...

I would feel very safe betting this is Evontravir, then ...

Ashton (to Chetney): "Don't chisel the tree."

Fearne flies down with Imogen carrying Laudna ... and they both get hit in the face by a branch on the way down, each taking THREE POINTS OF SLASHING DAMAGE?!!! Ouch ...

Just weird clutters of various objects scattered around the roots at the base ... weird ...

It is REALLY cold down here ...

Ah yes, the knotty prospect of getting the others down too ... hmmmm ...

Chetney's already climbing down, but the rest are staying put until told otherwise ... oh no, here comes Ashton too ...

Everybody starts singing "Somewhere Out There" from An American Tail ... XD

FCG's descent is ... chunky, but at least Orym makes it fairly smoothly ...

Oh, so these things are like OFFERINGS ... and from all over Exandria, too ...

Grim Psychometry on some random little carved wooden egg bear ... from a veteran soldier, left as a kind of sacrifice ... interesting ...

Detect Thoughts on the Tree ... and it's CONSCIOUS in a really ancient way ...

FCG casts Eagle's Splendour on Ashton as he goes to commune with the Tree ... and he cuts his hand snd presses it to the bark ...

Oh ... well THAT woke it up ... and now the Tree is MOVING ... snd now it has EYES for fuck's sake ... oh boy, that's actually a FACE ...

And now it's talking ...

Ashton: "I seek what is owed to me." Oh ... okay then ...

"As it was fated ..." Oh shit ... so this is all about Ashton's father ...

The Necropolis of Toramunda? A Shard of Kamort? What the fuck?

ASHTON was his destiny? But he couldn't see it because he was blinded by his own ambition? Whoa ...

So ... Ashton is offering Evontravir ... a toke from his pipe? O.O

Ashton: "Be a small man for a minute, you big fuck." LOL

Wow, they're actually doing it ...

Hundreds of people, running and caught, brought to the tree, and vanishing ... what the hell does that even mean?

Evontravir: "There are no nobodies that come this far to find me."

The strength of the Empress ... to restore the might of the Emperor? Okay then ...

It knows about the Solstice and everything it means ... whoa ... " I am the gate, and the boundary." Okay ...

Imogen: "How do we stop Predathos?"

They have to choose the fate of the gods?

Evontravir: "What do you believe in? What is right for this world?"

A shared vision ... a glow of endless red? Oh yeah, that has to be Predathos ...

Yeah, Matt is laying it on THICK with some seriously beautiful poetic metaphor ...

Ah, the Bloody Bridge, and the Moon ... "This is the path you have chosen." Ah ... yeah ...

Oh yeah, good point, Chet ... CAN Evontravir help them get where they need to be?

Damn it, what was THAT? Oh hello ... is that a portal in the tree? Oh! Yes, go, go NOW!!!

They all pile through ... freezing cold, snow ... the edge of a mountain range, mist in the distance ...

Okay, so they're still in the Shattered Teeth ... and now there's a sky whale floating by ... big cavern close by ...

And that's it for tonight ... meanwhile everybody's brains are EXPLODING wondering WHAT THE FUCK is really going on with Ashton ... yeah, same ...

[seetheothersideofparadise]

Pretty Fangs: Then And Now

Summary: Pearl heals from his recent branding and gets to feed. Mathias reflects.

Tags for this one are: Pet Vampire Whumpee, Human Whumper, Past Branding, Pet Whump, Collar, Semi-Institutionallized Pets, Heavy Dehumanization, It/It’s used in a dehumanizing way, Conditioned Pet, Possessive Whumper, Affectionate Whumper, POV Whumper, and Touchy Whumper. (Tell me if I missed anything!)

Pretty Fangs Masterpost

—

Mathias watches Pearl sleep from his bed, curled up in the specially made pet bed next to his own. It’s usual garments have been shed, only wearing a silky shirt and shorts now, as well as it’s collar with a chain attached to the bed post.

The chain is unnecessary for his pet, but Mathias rather likes how it looks on it. It sleeps in a loose curl, quiet as a mouse as always, and Mathias can see the brand on its chest. The mark officially making it his.

Mathias had gone back and forth initially on whether or not he should keep Pearl or sell it like the rest. There had only ever been one other vampire he considered keeping, and after the whole disaster with that one, Mathias had thought keeping a pet would make him too soft on it.

But Pearl had been different in many ways. It’s white hair drew Mathias to it initially but as it’s training went on, Mathias found just how docile it could be. How it began to lean into gentle touches, how beautiful it looked no matter the condition— all dressed up, dirty, clean, bloody, crying— Pearl was as beautiful as it’s namesake. A precious gemstone that he had a hard time thinking about giving away.

When Pearl began to love him— honestly love him— it had been the deciding factor. Pearl was too precious of a pet to give away. In fact, Pearl’s behavior was exactly what others needed to see. That vampires could be lovely little lapdogs, pets to relieve stress and live its life never having to make another decision again.

That’s how it should be in Mathias’ opinion, but there were other methods of thought too. Ideas that vampires should be guard dogs, which Mathias found unpleasant as vampires shouldn’t fight; that vampires should be servants, something Mathias could understand a little better even if he preferred other things; or even that vampires should be stress balls in that one could inflict pain on them for their own benefit, which Mathias had mixed feelings about, believing pain should better the vampire as well.

Of course, there were still many out there who believed vampires should be treated humanely. The very thought disguised Mathias— they were not humans in the slightest and they certainly didn’t act like them. Vampires were desperate animals when left on their own, attacking people in the streets just for a drop of blood and more often than not, got themselves hurt in the process. No, they couldn’t take care of themselves, that much was clear. Being able to talk and take care of complex tasks didn’t mean they weren’t animals deep down. It was high time humanity stopped treated them like they were human, and started treating them how they needed to be treated.

Mathias and others with likeminded thinking were doing their best to make real change— and it was working. More and more trainers were out there, helping domesticate vampires so they could go to good homes. Shelters and pounds were set up with the necessary equipment, laws were made in major places all over the world allowing vampires to be taken to said necessary places to get the help they needed and vampires were collected of the streets— and it was a good thing. Mathias smiled at the thought of one day getting rid of the laws that allowed the ‘Intellectually-Sound’ vampires to walk among them and get jobs, and finally allow nature to heal.

Jobs, mortgages, the hustle and bustle of everyday life— that put too much stress on vampires. They weren’t meant for it. They were meant to feed and sleep and be pet and handled— they were meant to be owned. Wolves had been domesticated into the happy, little dogs they were now, and cats, once mighty hunters, were now content being fed and bathing in the sunlight from indoors— why couldn’t people see that that’s exactly what vampires needed?

Mathias sighs to himself, eyeing Pearl’s sleeping form once again. Pearl had been so fearful when Mathias had first laid eyes on it. Had never experienced kind touch and all it knew was a life where every meal was a struggle. It was starving and skittish and flinched from every touch. A pitiful, fearful little thing. If Mathias had never taken it in, who knows what would’ve became of it?

One day, Mathias would train more vampires, and Pearl could help. Comfort it so it knew it were safe with Mathias, show it what a good pet looked like— Mathias would have to ensure Pearl was ready for it before he even thought about doing it, but it would be possible. A better system, even.

If only Mathias had Pearl before. There had only been one other vampire he planned to keep— it was a feral, little thing. Bit him before he trained it out of it, snarled when he got close, disrespectful, ungrateful, and one of the most difficult cases he ever had. But Mathias couldn’t deny that he loved the challenge. The fiery attitude had gotten fun, and it made it all the more satisfying when his lessons began to stick.

When his little spitfire, still so full of anger and contempt, began to call him master and avoid his gaze unless spoken to. Still so much defiance in him, but it finally followed the basic rules. Mathias couldn’t help but grin when it kneeled when it was supposed to and stayed when he told it too. How fear flickered in its eyes when Mathias threatened punishment.

It was finally learning its place. And then it was gone.

Perhaps, if Pearl had been there, it could’ve been different. Pearl could’ve helped his little spitfire— made it stay. Made sure it learned the rules properly.

Mathias shakes himself. No use dwelling on the past. What’s done is done, and Mathias had work to do.

Leaving his bed, Mathias kneels down to Pearl and begins stroking its hair softly. It takes a minute for Pearl to awaken but its eyes finally flutter open, locking onto him.

“Sir?” Pearl sits up, groggily but ready for any order to come nonetheless. Mathias smiles.

“Good morning, Little Gem.” Mathias greets. “Does your brand hurt at all?”

Pearl hesitates. Mathias laughs and takes that as a yes. He reaches over, unhooking the chain from the bedpost and instead taking it into his hand. “Come. A little feeding is in order.”

A soft, grateful smile forms on Pearl’s face. “Thank you, Sir.” It tells him.

Mathias stands, giving the chain connected to Pearl’s collar a little, experimental tug. Pearl stands up quickly, never losing its grace despite just waking up. Mathias leads the way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, going right for Pearl’s feeding corner. “Kneel.” He orders, even if Pearl already knows the drill, and Pearl doesn’t hesitate. It kneels right where it stands, earning a chuckle out of Mathias.

“I appreciate the unquestioning obedience, but I meant kneel on the pillow.”

“Oh.” Pearl is quick to correct its mistake. “Apologies, Sir.”

Mathias waves it off. “You did exactly as you were told.” He praises, cupping Pearl’s face as he says it. Pearl’s eyes go half-lidded, leaning into his hand and letting out a content purr. “You don’t have to think about a thing, allow me to be more specific next time.”

Mathias pulls his hand away before Pearl can fall asleep to his touch. A soft whine escapes Pearl before embarrassment seems to flush across its face. It opens its mouth to no doubt apologize but Mathias just laughs again. “Someone is in need of a little attention, hm?” He teases.

Pearl ducks it’s head but answers dutifully. “A little, Sir. But if you are busy—”

“I can give my pet a little attention.” Mathias tells it. “What kind of owner would I be if I didn’t? Especially to such a good pet.”

Pearl preens at the praise. Mathias attached the chain to the hook in the wall and gets up, heading for the mini fridge next to the regular one. It’s locked, a precaution he no longer needs seeing as Pearl is no longer trying to get its own food anymore, but Mathias opens it with ease. He thumbs through the options before opting for a snack-sized blood packet. He returns with it, holding it up and smiling when Pearl’s attention is more focused on him than it.

“Small blood packets for now.” He tells it. “There’s an event at the Gala I want you to be ready for so I’m afraid you can’t be full for a little while. This should be enough to ease your pain however.”

Pearl nods. “I understand. Thank you, Sir. You’re very generous.”

Mathias pauses before choosing to sit down, crisscrossed, and pats his legs. Pearl’s eyes light up and it immediately crawls forward in order to lay its head in his lap, the chain thankfully being long enough to allow it. Mathias starts combing through its long locks of hair and the purring intensifies.

“Open.” Mathias orders. Pearl obeys and Mathias lowers the blood packet to its mouth, right above its fangs. “Drink.” He says after a long beat to test its patience, and Pearl passes with flying colors, only inserting its pearly-white fangs into the packet when told. It drinks slowly, Mathias holding the packet up for it the entire time so it’s feeding right out of his hands. He waits until it’s finished to finally pull away and stroke its hair lovingly. It’s mouth hangs open until Mathias says, ���Close. Very good.”

Pearl relaxes, the blood no doubt doing it’s work and easing the pain. Mathias has always found it useful, ensuring he could still punish his pets and make sure they could heal without a scar in place later. There are things that scar, but Mathias prefers his pets to look untouched and perfect. Not only for any potential buyers, but for himself as well.

Idly, he strokes Pearl’s hair and gently rubs his knuckles against the side of its head and chin. It purrs and purrs, never having to worry about a thing, and Mathias can’t help but be glad he chose to keep this one.

“I can’t wait to show you off at the Gala.” Mathias whispers, and Pearl just keeps on purring.

—

Maybe this was a little excuse to write some worldbuilding but also more important plot info! Also. Maybe I just love writing Pearl. Anyways, Gala is coming up, I’m just figuring out where to split all the stuff. Stay tuned for that and some potential Pearl’s Training Days! >:)

Also I can try doing a tag list if anyone wants it?

[deuterosapiens]

So, here we are in our countdown to October First. I think technically I should actually be, you know, counting down, rather than up but whatever. Count-up sounds weird. So, either way, Hellraiser, Day Three. I present batshit craziness. Hellbound: Hellraiser II.

This film opens with a recounting of the first film's events, followed by a cool scene of a solider opening the Lemarchand Box and being transformed into the nail-headed Cenobite Leader which Scarlet Gospels names "The Hell Priest" and this, as well as each subsequent film, names Pinhead (which out of respect for Barker, who hates the name, I will call the Hell Priest as well).

Following a polite bit of laceration and head-nailing, we cut to Kirsty in a mental institute, coping poorly with the events of the first movie. There are two doctors of note in our institute: Doctor Channard, and his assistant Kyle. Kyle is no one of consequence, since his death contributes exactly nothing more than a raised body-count. Channard on the other hand is a doctor you very much would like to never have. He's played by Kenneth Cranham, a fact I only bring up because this guy discounts Sam Neill so damn hard that I refuse to believe he is in fact not Sam Neill in a weird skin-suit.

Kirsty is visited by an officer investigating Larry's death, and just, over all, the insane remnants of the house. This plot disappears quickly, and really only exists so that Channard can learn of the Mattress on Which Julia Died (here after known as The Mattress on Which Julia Died, or the MoWJD, for short: pronounced Mo.Jed). Channard pulls some strings to acquire the Mattress on Which Julia Died after hearing Kirsty's story, in which she indicates that, as long as the Mo.Jed is in tact, Julia may return from the dead.

I'm going to ask one question, right now, of the movie: how the hell does Kirsty, correctly I might add, deduce that those are the rules? Based entirely on the events of the first film, all Kirsty knows after solving the Lemarchand Box is that Frank is alive and has escaped the Cenobites. Neither she nor Larry actually know of his death in the first place. She certainly is not aware that Frank came back as a result of blood being spilled, or that continued supplies of blood were required for his return to strength. I know it's a popular horror trope for the Final Girl to randomly acquire information between films that is vital for subsequent heroes to learn the rules, but again, Kirsty cannot possibly know that Julia is able to come back from death in this manner. To say nothing of the fact that Julia's death isn't really Cenobite-related, that is, she is not a prisoner of theirs, so I'm not entirely sure how she's able to come back in the first place, but we will get back to Julia later.

Anyway, Channard acquires the Mo.Jed in a conversation Kyle overhears, which results in Kyle sneaking into Channard's house for... reasons. Channard sacrifices one of his patients on the Mattress on Which Julia Died, a scene that is fairly unpleasant to those uncomfortable with self-mutilation and/or severe possessed of severe trypophobia, an event witnessed by Kyle. Julia returns to life via the Mattress. Julia's return to life is nowhere near as cool to watch as Frank's was. It involves skinless blood wrestling and in general, this just lasts longer than is necessary.

Kyle returns to Kirsty, informing him that he believes everything about her story involving the Cenobites. He informs her of the existence of puzzle boxes in Channard's house. Kirsty is convinced that she can save her father from Hell if she uses the box to open the doors to hell (oh yeah, she had a weird vision as well involving a skinless bloody figure, whom she assumes is her father, begging for help).

Channard sacrifices more patients to Julia, whom he is developing a sexual relationship with. Kyle dies to Julia. The movie does not care to linger, so neither do we.

One of Channard's patients is a withdrawn girl named Tiffany, whose specialty, by sheer coicidence, is puzzle solving. I'm glad the gates to Hell are not locked behind a magical puzzle box, or this would be an incredibly useful coincidence.

Channard is obsessed with seeing and learning of the Labyrinths of Hell and uses Tiffany as a human shield for the Cenobites' Wrath. Hellraiser II completely disagrees with Hellraiser I when Tiffany opens the Box and the Cenobites completely ignore her. "Hands do not call us, it is desire!" says the nail-headed Hell Priest, informing us that Channard is not off the hook just because someone else opened the Box in his place because it was his will that caused the Box to be opened. This leniency would have done Kirsty quite a bit of good precisely one movie ago.

Hell is weird. It's a giant Labyrinth of uh... labyrinthiness... where we occasionally see weird shit. The coolest is a clown without eyes. The implication is that the Labyrinth is a different hell for everyone, so I guess for each person it is sort of an Inferno-style ironic punishment. Kirsty finds the House which she believes holds her father but discovers that she has been deceived for it is not Larry, but Frank who called her. Shocking.

The reason Larry called her is because he was bored of his ironic hell: think Tantalus from Greek Mythology, but instead of food, it's moaning women. Julia shows up, everything is on fire, Julia is still pissed that Frank stabbed her at the end of the first movie, rips out his heart.

Oh, and Channard meets the god at the center of the Labyrinth:

Leviathan, Lord of the Labyrinth! I could probably draw this thing...

Julia is apparently acting as a soul-collector for the giant booming lazer-spitting death lozenge. Sure, why not? She sacrifices Channard to it who is transformed into a Cenobite. I guess it works that way?

I forgot, there's a funny little scene with the Cenobites in which the female (I wish these things had better names or titles, so referring to them wasn't so weird...) mocks Kirsty for teasing them. The important detail of this moment is that the Hell Priest transforms the Lemarchand Box into a state that's nice and pointy and looks kind of a lot like Leviathan, Lord of the Labyrinth (which every time I type or think about sounds like a Magic the Gathering, or YuGiOh card), and is now basically unsolvable.

So Kirsty and Tiffany escape the Labyrinth of Hell, only to realize Channard is now forcing all of his patients to solve puzzle boxes. They are mutilated for their efforts. In his new Cenobite state, Channard now speaks exclusively in doctor-related puns that rival Mr Freeze in their ability to completely de-escalate the severity of every scene they are in.

Confrontation between the Hell Priest and Channard! It's whelming. Neither over, nor under. It just whelms. The Cenobites are killed, transforming each back into their human form. Sure, why not?

We return to the Labyrinth so that Tiffany can solve the puzzle and restore... something. Evidently the Leviathan configuration uses Square-One rules, because solving it involves reducing it back to cube shape.

Channard is killed, Tiffany returns the Lemarchand Box to its original state, and this is reflected on the God Leviathan, Lord of the Labyrinth, which also transforms into a giant cube, thus closing the doors to Hell.

Kirsty and Tiffany walk away free!

I have no idea how to even go about considering this a good follow-up to the first movie, because it is so incredibly different, and so incredibly insane, that comparing the two feels kind of pointless. Every element brought-in from the first is basically speed-ran just to get the plot going. This one delights in presenting us with weird, disjointed weirdness. Oh sure, the Cenobitical designs look impressive, the make-up is really well down for skinless Julia and skinless Frank. Leviathan, Lord of the Labyrinth, feels like such an incomprehensible thing that as aggressively inexplicable as it is, it actually kind of works for me.

Yeah, I've seen this one before, and rewatching it reaffirms my belief that I have chosen a seriously bizarre series, if I want to rein-in spooky season. Sit back, ignore the story, inhale that sweet, sweet Christopher Young score, and enjoy the weird.

Tomorrow, however, we will enter into uncharted territory. I have no idea what to expect from Three, but I'm ready to get this stuff going.

[familyfromukraine]

On the morning of February 24, 2022, my wife woke me up with the words:

- Igor, wake up! They're bombing…

- What?! - I opened my eyes with difficulty.

About 5-6 o'clock in the morning, I don't remember exactly now. I only remember the feeling that hung in the air of the room. Feeling of anxiety.

- I just read on Facebook: friends write that russians are bombing Ukraine, - my wife said with alarm. - Oh... do you hear?.. again? What's this?..

I remember perfectly, for the rest of my life, what I heard right after that and then saw.

Thunder could be heard... explosions. Distant explosions, distant rumbles. They were so nasty, unpleasant for the ear that they penetrated right through, they were etched into the memory.

"If he caught us up finally, a bloody psychopath?!"

- ran through my mind at that moment.

My wife and I ran to the window. It was foggy. Low cloud cover. February dampness. Mist. I looked into the distance. There. Somewhere out there. Far away. On the horizon. Scarlet flashes flashed. There were clearly explosions over the horizon. From there to here came muffled rumbles:

- boom, boom, boom, boom!!! - very accurately conveys the Ukrainian word “vybukhi". This is exactly “vybukhi".

A fighter jet flew over our house. It was not visible because of the low gray clouds that hid the sky from the people of Kiev. I didn't see him. I just seemed to be cut through by his sharp fighter drilling of the air, which cannot be confused with the calm peaceful sound of a civilian aircraft. It was a military plane, definitely. I didn't see the insignia on its wings, and therefore I didn't know if it was an Ukrainian or a Russian plane, “our” or an enemy one. And that made my soul even more anxious. Even sharper feelings, the feeling of adversity has become even more acute.

This low-flying fighter as you know... when you tear off a piece of paper from a school notebook, shhh, and this forever divides the moment into “before” and “after".

You will never be able to return a piece of paper back to the school notebook without a seam, without gluing, without a scar. It is rejected forever now.

Also with the fighter, which, with a sharp, terrible sound of a military aircraft, tore my time into “before” and “after". Fffshshshsihhhh.

It was unpleasant and sticky for me to think that a Russian fighter jet was flying freely over Kiev and could launch a rocket into any of the houses, for example, into our house.

I moved away from the window and sat down on the sofa. My wife continued to stand near the window, peering into the gray “something”.

- Do you think this is a war? - she asked me.

I turned my face away from her and quietly, calmly, as calmly as I could, answered:

- Yes, this is a war.

A tear rolled down my cheek. It wasn't a tear of fear, although, of course, I was scared. Something shrank inside me. A soul? Nerves? I began to think feverishly, what to do? But the tear didn't roll out of fear. In moments of danger, I usually get up, adrenaline hits my man's head, and I begin to think with a cold mind, calculate moves and ways, solutions. This is a male version of the reaction to an extreme situation.

And then suddenly a tear rolled out. At that time I still did not understand what this new phenomenon was for me. Much later, the explanation for my tears suddenly rolling into my eyes came to me. And I'll save this explanation for later chapters.

In the meantime, I was sitting on the couch and deciding what to do now. As a husband. As a father of two children, who slept in the next rooms.

How?

How it could be in the 21st century?

I started to remember speeches from famous people I heard recently.

1. Russian famous journalist’s answer “No” on the question “Will the war start?” a day before the war had started.

2. Russian politicans, who assured all world, that Russia wouldn’t attack Ukraine.

3. Lukashenko, the president of Belarus, who said “Never. Never. Never russian troops will come into Ukraine from Belarus” (but they came) a week before the war had started.

4. Zelensky “I will say to all of you in my next New Year speech to Ukrainian people, that I was right at this point, that everything is alright. Don’t panic. There is nothing for spooky. We will be doing our spring barbeku this year, as we usually do” (No, we didn’t and he didn’t too).

And of course the speech of the main psychopath and a lier, abuser and sadist of our modern history - Putin: “Ukraine was never existed really” and “We’ll show you the real decommunization”.

I could call this story “Lie” or “Big lie”, but such books are already selling on the Amazon and telling us about american politicans. Although does it really matter? Probably, the best title for my book would be “Big Liers” worldwide? Maybe.

To say true, months later I started remembering things from my life and suddenly I recognized, that I met sociopaths and psychopaths all my life since youth around me. In my country, where I was born.

So, I'll show you in this book how I escaped from sociopathes, who inhabited even entire country, and some psychopathes in my life experience.

> Firstly I wanted to write a book about escaping of our Ukrainian family from Ukraine because of Russian attacks. After a while I understood, that the topic extends more deeply in history of several countries, our family and, finally, into my soul.

So, meanwhile…

I got up and went to the window again. I looked once more into the distance.

"It can't be," - my wife said next to me. - "It cannot be that in the 21st century someone attacked a neighboring country like this. It cannot be that in the 21st century such a thing is possible: a war in Europe."

It cannot be… But it was. Definitely.

I peered into the “there” again, into the distance. There were red flashes on the horizon. From the “there” there were muffled “vibukhs” coming again, again, again. They bombed somewhere in the direction of Chernihiv, as it seemed to me.

There, beyond the mist, were monsters, monsters, unknown, invisible forces of evil, they bombed, destroyed, killed.

Along with the mist that was approaching the city, hordes of “orcs” were coming at us (this is the word that arose in my head at that moment), hordes of inhumans who wanted to tear us apart, trample our peaceful life, our ordinary affairs, school, work, family.

From there, because of the mist, a horde of ghouls, evil spirits, was approaching. That's the feeling I had at that moment, I probably remembered it for the rest of my life.

“There behind the mists, eternal drunks...” sings Russian singer Rastorguev in his famous song for former Soviet citizens of Russia. It seemed as if they had been preparing to attack behind the mist for many years before.

[worthless-weight-in-gold]

    "Some of us are still human." So of course he has a heart. He works for the devil, he didn't let the devil turn him into some undead freak. The sounds of bones snapping back together are nothing new for Jim, and he eventually just takes the charm out of his arm to sing to it softly. It vibrates in his hand, starting up a purr that shifts rapidly and randomly in pitch until it starts matching him and then falls into a melodic hum for the rest of the song. Jim lets it play between his fingers, helping along since it doesn't have the ability to move itself through physical space with any degree of force -- gets jealous of the bell all the bloody time, which is such a hassle -- and then turns his attention when Josie speaks.

And, well, it hardly needs to be said. Jim just quirks a condescending eyebrow, and the charm spirals down his arm. He plucks it up before it tumbles off his elbow, and affixes it back into his hair. "Go to whatever little pony show you have tomorrow. I'll get you when I want you." He doesn't really have any plans tomorrow, and can't often predict when he is going to need help because generally his life is very calm and then suddenly has an emergency he has to deal with right away.

Various demons and magic workers and holy people are loathe to send him a heads up, apparently. No text, email, hell not even a postcard. And while his mirror does sometimes give him glimpses into the future, it also seems to want to watch him die horribly so prefers to show re-runs of past near death experiences or some completely unhelpful bullshit. Only shows a useful shot of the future if whatever horrific event on the horizon will lead to itself being damaged. Narcissistic prick.

Mostly, Josie's a potential siphon since he has all that magic keeping him up and about. Surely he wouldn't mind if Jim stole a touch of it; all Josie would need to do would be go eat some more people, give the devil some more souls. At least, wouldn't mind too much if it's a payback for a favor.

Although, Jim's been told before that the experience of him draining someone's lifeforce is extraordinarily unpleasant. Not painful, just bad in a way that they have failed to describe. Ah well. Josie won't know that until it happens, or unless he asks Jim directly. "Also, degenerate is a pretty judgey word for someone who eats people. Most of the time, I just give people exactly what they want. Some people would call that kind." Fulfilling people's dreams, just with rather steep prices.

When Jim gets up, Josie's sure he's done for. That he'll end the night being a pile of mush, like when you leave ice cream melting a little too long and it becomes a soup. Josie can't become soup. He has a 6 a.m. call time for a scene with Pete Davidson in some unnamed road trip comedy tomorrow! If he doesn't show up, Pete will get some schmuck like John Mulaney and Josie's career'll be done for.

He's ready to die. None of it matters. Devil, you won this one.

Just as his eyes are falling closed, he hears Jim's footsteps and smells blood. For once, his heightened senses give way to something pleasurable and not so inconvenient. (Like that one time he was at the NBA Finals and Nikola Jokic's sweat looked a little too appetizing...)

His eyes flit open like blinds first thing in the morning and he grins. Waits until he has the bowl in his grasp before he quips: "Wow, he has a heart after all." The bowl slides from his lap onto the floor beside him with an empty thump. He reaches down and pops one of the fingers in his mouth as if he was eating a bucket of popcorn at the movies. The taste of Jim's blood is bitter and by no means gourmet, but in a pinch it's rejuvenating.

Slowly but surely, his body's falling back together, starting off with his arm. Some mysterious magic wills it to levitate and attach back to his bone there, albeit backwards. He reaches over and adjusts it with a snap. He looks over at Jim and lifts a brow.

"So, is now the part where you tell me that I owe you for this?" he asks. "I'm booked tomorrow but I guess I can help you do whatever degenerate thing it is you're up to. You're lucky I'm feeling generous."

[pippytmi]

Supercorp + Hogwarts AU + meet messy + "is that the best you can do?"

“Hey, do you guys want to see a muggle magic trick?”

Kara doesn’t have to look up to know Alex and Kelly are exchanging glances over Nia’s head. Nia is the best witch in the fifth year hands-down, but her grasp of muggle illusions leave a lot to be desired.

“Sure…” Kelly agrees, politely but unsurely, while Alex shakes her head.

“If this is that stupid coin trick again, Nia—” she starts, but Nia is already squeezing between them on the grass, unfolding a pack of muggle playing cards.

“It is not,” Nia says. “Prepare to be amazed! Yvette says I’m really good at this one.”

“Oh, joy,” Alex mutters under her breath, which turns into a pained yelp when Kelly elbows her in the ribs.

Kara finally raises her gaze from the newspaper she’s been half-reading, fully prepared to commit to Nia’s trick, but then she catches a glimpse of dark hair and a brisk pace. It’s Lena Luthor, notorious loner, actually sitting outside by the black lake with her books.

It’s odd—Lena never sits outside. People talk; Lena doesn’t have many friends (someone even started a rumor that Lillian Luthor pays Jess, another sixth year, to hang out with Lena). In fact, the only time anyone really sees Lena is in class, or in the Slytherin common room when Jess is also there. Kara sees her even less (only when Slytherin and Gryffindor share classrooms), but that doesn’t make the hopeless crush she’s fostered on her since they were eleven any less potent.

Kelly starts clapping suddenly, reluctantly dragging Kara’s eyes from Lena (who is reading a book; Kara is wondering just what kind of book it is). “Aw, Nia, that was good!” she says. “Do it again!”

Even Alex is curiously lifting up the cards one by one, as if trying to determine the trick herself. “Did you use actual magic for this?” she asks.

“I’m just that good,” Nia brags, though the way she tries to expertly shuffle the cards right back into their box suggests otherwise; half of them spill onto the grass. “Oh man!”

“I’ve got this,” Kara says, absentmindedly reaching for her wand. “Accio—”

“Kara, no!”

Oh, that’s right, Kara thinks belatedly. My wand is broken. It had been an unfortunate event on the Quidditch pitch involving an overzealous Hufflepuff seeker (Winn is still very apologetic about it, but it can’t be helped now). Unfortunately, Kara never seems to quite remember that magic is off-limits until it can be fixed.

And even more unfortunate is the fact that her mind and her words have begun to converge; she’s thinking about the book Lena is reading while glancing at the cards, and her mouth is forming silent words, and really it’s not a surprise at all when said book rockets out of Lena’s hands and aims right for Nia’s head.

No one dies, though, nor do they have to make the unpleasant trudge to the infirmary—Kelly is far quicker than any of Kara’s botched magic, and the book explodes into nothing when she mutters a firm, “Evanesco.”

“Kelly!” Kara forgets, for a second, about the whole Nia-about-to-break-her-face thing; her heart drops to the pit of her stomach at the thought that something of Lena Luthor’s has been reduced to figurative dust. What if that book was personal? What if it was special? What if it was—

“Excuse me,” says a quiet, sudden voice, and Kara just about falls over in the grass at the sight of Lena Luthor standing there. “I think you summoned my book.”

Kelly winces. “Oh, actually—”

“I destroyed it,” Kara blurts out, because really, this is her fault and Nia still has a face so the least Kara can do is take a fall for a friend. “I’m sorry. My wand is broken, and I was trying to summon some cards, but I was looking at you and thinking about your book and it just…I’m sorry. Again. I can pay for it?” She immediately begins digging into the pockets of her robes, but all she manages to scrounge up is a broken sugar quill and a drawing on a torn sheet of paper that depicts Professor Grant as a dragon.

For a moment, all Lena does is stare down at Kara in a peculiarly quizzical way. She doesn’t seem mad or anything, just perplexed. A second later she says, “You were thinking about ‘Voyages with Vampires’ strongly enough to summon it? I don’t really enjoy Gilderoy Lockhart books myself.”

“To be fair,” Kara’s quick to defend herself, “I couldn’t read the title from this far.”

“Right. You decided you wanted to snatch my book from me because it was mine.” And just like that, the curious expression on Lena’s face drops entirely, twists into something resigned and exhausted. “Is that the best you can do? Petty little child games?”

“What? No, I would never—”

“Because last week Eve Tessmacher hit me with a furnunculus curse that was far more clever than this,” Lena all but sneers. “It’s always the pig-headed Gryffindors that aim out of their league.”

“You wanna say that again?” Alex is jumping up, her wand brandished out, and Lena glances from her to Kara to Kelly to Nia, as if just realizing how potentially outnumbered she could be.

Except, well, that’s so not the issue. Kara hastens to stand between Alex’s wand and Lena’s body, nearly knocking her sister over in the process. “No! No, I didn’t do that as a prank, I—” She pauses, feels her cheeks go hot, and then rushes out, “Ijustthinkyou’rereallypretty!”

Alex lowers her wand; Kara can tell, because Alex uses it to jab her in the ribs. “Oh, bloody hell,” Alex grumbles, and she nudges Kelly to join her. “I think that’s our cue. I’d rather study for Potions than watch this.”

Kelly obligingly drags Nia along, who looks like she wants to protest, but eventually Nia caves in—though not without trying to wink conspiringly at Kara, which doesn’t work because Nia “winks” with both eyes.

“But—” Kara watches as her friends scatter, and then she is left with the heavy, accusatory gaze of Lena Luthor. She tries to smile, but imagines her attempt is more of a wince than anything. “Did I mention that I’m sorry?”

Lena takes a step forward. She raises her chin in the air, no less guarded, but her eyes convey a tiny bit of that earlier curiosity all the same. “You’ve already had your fun, Kara Danvers,” she says. “But I will give you credit, no one has played the ‘I have a crush on you’ prank yet.”

Kara frowns. “Do people really play pranks on you so much?”

“I am the weird little sister of a boy who tried to blow up Hogwarts,” Lena all but deadpans. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re way more than Lex Luthor’s sister, and that’s just...really mean,” Kara says, words bursting out before she even pauses to rein them in. “I mean, you are so smart! Last year you saved a bunch of first years who wandered into the Forbidden Forest. A-and you never tried out for Quidditch, but sometimes you fly with Jess on the pitch and you’re so fast you could easily run circles around anyone on the Slytherin team. You’re the coolest person ever. Even when you were eleven, you—” Finally, her brain starts to catch up with her mouth, and Kara flushes hotter than she ever thought possible. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean for that to sound…stalker-y. I only know about the first year thing because Professor Grant’s son was new that year and I was supposed to be babysitting him. And then the flying, well, sometimes I go to the pitch with Winn whenever he wants to practice—”

“Kara. You can breathe any time you want,” Lena prompts, and Kara pauses to do exactly that.

“Sorry,” Kara adds, again, after she’s let her lungs rest a bit. Her whole body feels shivery from head to toe, like she is seconds away from fainting, and honestly? She just might. “Anyway. Um. I can replace that book if you want. Or I can give you the money and you can pick out a better one, since you said you weren’t a fan? Whatever you want.”

Lena is quiet for a beat. “What were you going to say before? About when I was eleven?”

Kara bites her lip so hard she knows she will inevitably have to ask Kelly to heal it later. “Oh, that,” she says evasively. “I meant, when you were eleven, and I walked face-first into the wrong wall trying to get to platform nine and three quarters, and you didn’t even laugh at me. You just...helped me up, and promised you would walk with me to the train until I found my family again.”

“I remember,” Lena says, and her voice is softening, as is her expression. “You somehow got lost between platforms seven and eight. Your sister was furious when she caught up with us.”

“Yeah.” And Kara finds herself smiling at that memory; this time it’s a real smile, and she couldn’t stop it if she tried. “That was really nice.” She wants to mention more—how even when Lillian Luthor scowled at Kara’s hand-me-downs, Lena complimented her right away on the shirt that had once been Alex’s—but all Kara does right now is step back. “I’ve bothered you enough, I think. Will you…let me know? About the book?”

“I don’t care about the book,” Lena says, and she swallows, loud enough that Kara can hear it. “Do you mean it?”

“That you’re...nice?”

“Yes.” Lena’s cheeks are a faint pink color, and Kara’s entire mouth goes dry.

“Well, yeah,” Kara says, and in that moment—with Lena blushing, and Kara’s chest tightening—they both know that she’s confessing to so much more than thinking Lena is nice. “So. Um.” She squares her shoulders, and prepares to be brave enough to live up to the Gryffindor name: “Can I buy you something that’s not a book? Sometime? Maybe on our next trip to Hogsmeade?”

“Like a date?” Lena asks, so impossibly soft, and Kara nods.

“Exactly like a date,” Kara says, and honestly, she should demand ten points to Gryffindor herself because her voice does not waver once.

And Lena Luthor smiles, just cautious enough to show how unsure she is, but still warm enough that Kara’s heart skips a beat. “Okay,” she says. “But on one condition: I’ll handle any magic until then.”

“Deal,” Kara agrees, and it’s official; breaking her wand might have been the best thing that has ever happened to her, ever.

[animeyanderelover]

💌Could I request kakuzu with prompt 180. "Silly little thing. Don't you realize that this is all your fault?"?💌

I am debatting whether I should open my requests in the holiday again or not since I still have so many left...

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, controlling behavior, violence, abuse, blood

Prompt 180: "Silly little thing. Don't you realize that this is all your fault?”

His grip on your shoulders was bruising your skin, his painted nails digging into your purple and blue wounds. Amongst all the other pain your body just had been, it barely felt like a brush against your body for you though. The smell of sweat, blood and tears was filling the now nearly silent room with only your battered breath cutting through the air. Your face was shoved against the dirty and bloody ground, red liquid trickling down from your nose and burst lip.

You weren't even completely sure what you had all gone through since you had slipped in and out of consciousness, vague memories flooding through your mind.

You weren't even sure what you had done wrong this time and you knew that Kakuzu wouldn't tell you either. He expected you to be smart enough to figure it out on your own. The man didn't exactly bother much when it came to you as long as you stayed quiet and obedient. Even to this day you had no idea what this man was thinking.

A sudden unsnarling sound managed to grab your attention numbly as you were watching unmotivated the black spots hopping around in front of your eyes.

Your swollen eyes shifted slowly behind you. You were in a trapped position but even if you could have still moved your head, you didn't have the energy.

You were pretty sure he had just disentangled the threads from his stitches. They were making their way to your body in a way that reminded you a bit of worms because of their movements. Normally you would have freaked out because you found everything about them scary and disgusting but not now. Instead you waited with a silly calmness for whatever would happen next, positive that you’d fall back into the dark abyss of your mind again. Your brain was scarcely working and another overload would knock your senses down again.

The sensation of his threads on your skin was weird as it really felt a bit like worms crawling up your body. Only your mind reacted, your body stayed perfectly still. Your limps were barely even functioning right now, even a subtle move with your fingers felt like a heavy exercise.

You noticed how the motion even tickled a bit before a sudden prick interrupted everything. Followed by another and another and another. It was extremely unpleasant even for you in this state as his threads were piercing your body and skin. When one jab seemed to hit a particularly painful part, you jerked up ever so slightly.

It had been a very weak motion, in your opinion at least. It was enough for Kakuzu to press a hand against your neck harshly though. You noted slowly how his hand was covered in something lukewarm and sticky and it took you a few seconds before you realized that it was most likely your own blood.

“Don’t move and just stay still. Be grateful that I’m willing to stitch you up at all.”

His voice was slightly aggressive and demanding as always. What stirred your interest though was that he had mentioned something from stitching you up. You had never seen him caring that much before.

With the additional weight of his hand pressing directly against the muscles of your neck it was fairly difficult to turn your head around, especially since he shoved it back down harshly the second you squirmed too much under his palm.

With a bit of luck and your eyeballs nearly looking inside your head though, you managed to catch a glimpse of what Kakuzu was currently doing.

You had seen his interesting anatomy before but you just noticed right then and there the deep wound on your back, tainting the threads stitching it closed in a deep red. You hadn’t even noticed the pain before with all the other cuts and bruises yet something in your brain just seemed to wake up when you saw it.

At first it was a dull pain pounding in your brain but the longer your eyes stayed fixated on it, the more the pain intensified until your senses had finally caught up.

You jerked abruptly up, nearly twisting your head in the process since Kakuzu’s hand had pinned you down firmly.

A dry cry escaped your lips when one of his knees suddenly slammed against your back, forcing your trembling body to stay down.

Another intense pain shot through your spine from the impact of his knees and as you felt teardrops bubbling up behind your dried eyelashes, you wished to sink back into the comforting nothingness once again.

The world was spinning in front of your eyes, a motion that made you feel physically sick as you were forced to endure his little surgery he was performing on you without the initial numbness you had felt.

Your noises of pain were not wanted by him though, you could tell from the way his fingers wrapped themselves around your throat when silent whimpers escaped you once again.

“Just shut up. This is all because you are too dumb to listen. Silly little thing. Don’t you realize that this is all your fault?”

With a forceful squeeze where he cut off your oxygen, you abruptly stopped with your sobs of pain.

Your pupils blew up inside of your eyes as the black spots in front of you started to take over your entire vision even after he had loosened his grip slightly.

You welcomed the growing darkness with open arms as it was your only escape from his world. At least for a bit.