#what do you mean spider can breathe the poisonous air now???

[cyren-myadd]

[poetslastdeath]

john and higher ranking reader (i don’t specify the current day rank but it’s very much implied to be higher than his)

heavy hints of dom reader, fem leaning reader this time (couldn’t choose so i flipped a coin and went with fem), cute and short

—————————

reader and john who have known each other since you were just recruits, both grown from hyper soldiers with stars in your eyes to stoic war hardened soliders with more scars than freckles, have known the deafening sound of gunshots longer than you knew compassion.

his youth died years after yours did, you were already a lieutenant then being looked up at by a fumbling yet smooth sergeant price. always a step behind you, always filling the silent air between you too, unrelenting and bright as a dying sun. you wanted to protect that, hold it close, hold and cradle that fire for a little longer until the winds picked up and blew it all away.

it did either way, you watched then left.

better to let him sit alone then look far too close at you, at everything you’ve done, at how you could so easily hurt him but didn’t it every time. look at that stupid thing foolishly named love.

the twin old decaying thing is your chests, some may call it innocence but one far wiser than anyone should be would call it humanity. so you drifted, climbed the ranks, making it farther than a younger you could have guessed. you and john met sparsely after that.

however something always lingered, something else between you two though it only actually played out a few times when it boiled over, usually his poor knees took the brunt of those encounters. some could call it love or lust or they could call it two far too damaged people who cave into each other like waves crashing against rocks. calloused hand in calloused hand.

john, who gets himself into trouble— on the way over you can only sigh without surprise, he was hotheaded in his twenties but now he’s as slow and burning as molten lava— and has to call in a favor to bail him and his team out.

and when you walk in, you’re the only one that notices his slight stutter of breath, chest aching with heavy lingering smoke. it’s like the gravity around you pulls, the world twisting to meet your every step, and eyes are snapped over to you and held like they can do nothing else.

then that’s when the 141 boys know the now slightly deflated shepherd and graves stand no chance.

and they don’t, they fold because they can do nothing against the raspy honey of your voice, it’s allure sounding like a spiders web, thinly veiled poison dripping from cracked lips.

it doesn’t take long, not when you tilt your head as shepherd freezes so still he looks like a statue when you start naming dates and times. insignificant to anyone else, but you know. he knows. anyone could see the threats laid like bear traps behind your words.

and with a fake barely there smile, shepherd and his mutt leave with the slamming of the door.

it’s tense, not quite as tense as when shepherd was in the room, but it’s still like the rest of them don’t quite know what to do with you now, turning to look at their captain then at their lieutenant when john’s eyes are locked on the side of your head.

you look over, meeting his gaze with heavy unreadable eyes, knowing far too well now that keeping emotions in your eyes is the fastest way to having someone kill the light in them.

“thank you, love.” he rasps, you raise an eyebrow and he pauses. glancing away to consider his next steps from here.

“ma’am. thank you, ma’am” he corrects smoothly like he had never said anything else, so naturally that it makes you want to hear his low rough tone whisper it on repeat until he can’t speak.

you nod, eyes flickering over to his team. “hm, pleasure to help.”

they shift, uncomfortable and clearing untrusting of your heavy calculating stare. though you hardly mean to, by now it’s hard to help yourself from making observations almost idly, like how the one you know is “ghost” stands far closer with one of the men then the other one.

you look away from them and back over at john, you shift your weight from one foot to the other and turn in his direction. he follows every movement carefully with shadowed deep eyes.

“i’m done here. you can clear up your own mess, can’t you?” you hear one of his boys shuffle before a hand is placed on his arm in a tight grip, like he was seconds away yelling. you pay no mind to it, far to busy for a puppy’s biting at your ankle.

“i’ll send you a gift.” you pause, watching john again. “a little something about shepherd so his leash should shorten.”

he exhales, careful and slow. you don’t quite know what he’s thinking, no matter how good you’ve gotten he’s also improved.

“thank you, ma’am” he repeats, tilting his head forward. you smile, walking forward, glancing at the clock behind him.

you mumble, “hm, call me if you need me further.”

and when you pass him, you lean over to whisper in his ear, words carefully crafted just for him. “oh and if you want something, then ask for it, baby.”

his shaky exhale tells you everyone you need to know. the door shutting behind you is perfectly timed with his mind sliding back into captain mode.

it’s a pity, he’s far prettier when he isn’t in control.

[raina-at]

Familiar

This is very vaguely based on my fic Zing and You'll Miss It, but all you need to know is that Sherlock is a vampire, John is a human and magic exists.

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“This is a tiny bit humiliating,” John mutters, picking up the black cat rubbing its body against his legs.

He deposits the cat on his shoulder and moves further into the building. 

All witches have familiars, John, the cat purrs into his ear, sounding amused.

“I bet most of them aren’t actually vampire boyfriends, though,” John murmurs, looking around the crowded room full of dark-clad witches with their various familiars. He sees cats, dogs, snakes, crows, even a few large, hairy spiders.

Seeing as you are not actually a witch either, I don’t see why we’re having this conversation. 

John huffs an exasperated sigh when Cat Sherlock settles his claws into John’s shoulder to hold on, but concedes that he has a point. He grabs a glass of wine from a nearby tray and holds it up for Cat Sherlock to sniff. “Is this going to poison me?” he asks quietly.

I told you before, witches are human, and so is their food.  It’s why I needed you to get in here in the first place, Cat Sherlock purrs, and John has to bite down on a snicker because he’s never seen a cat roll his eyes before.

“So basically I’m your carrier.”

Cat Sherlock makes a movement that might be considered a shrug. You have other qualities, Sherlock purrs into his ear suggestively.

John squirms as Cat Sherlock’s wet nose touches the shell of his ear. “Can you not do this while you’re a cat? Makes me feel slightly pervy.”

You’re no fun at all.

John is about to respond when someone touches his arm. He turns around and comes face to face with a slight blonde witch in an alluring black dress. She gives him a charming smile and gestures at Cat Sherlock. “You talk to your cat too, I see.”

John smiles his most charming smile and shrugs. “You know how it is. Sometimes when he looks at me, I can almost imagine he’s intelligent - ow.” 

John glares at Cat Sherlock, who looks entirely innocent as he pointedly retracts his claws out of John’s shoulder.

The witch giggles and holds out her hand. “Oh, I know what you mean. I’m Pamela.”

John shakes her offered hand. “John. New here, actually.”

Pamela smiles and puts a hand on John’s arm, moving a bit closer. “I can show you around,” she says with a friendly, insinuating smile. “Not a lot of male witches here, bit of a breath of fresh air, honestly.”

Cat Sherlock narrows his eyes and hisses at her aggressively. Tell her to get her hands off you.

“Now, now,” John says, removing Cat Sherlock, who’s still hissing and spitting, from his shoulder. “None of that, or I’ll have you neutered.”

Low blow, Cat Sherlock hisses. Not funny at all.

“Why don’t you go have a look around, while I talk to Pamela here?” John asks, giving Sherlock a significant look. They’re not here for fun, after all. They’re here to find a missing cursed necklace.

Cat Sherlock gives him another hiss, and flicks his tail aggressively.  As long as blondie here keeps her hands to herself.

John rolls his eyes and sets Cat Sherlock down to the ground. Cat Sherlock glares at Pamela one more time, then vanishes into the crowd.

Pamela smiles indulgently. “He’s very cute.”

“He is,” John says, grinning, because he’s sure Sherlock can still hear them. “He just doesn’t want to admit it.”

Pamela laughs.

John decides that this is as good a place as any to start the investigation. He gestures over the waiter with the hors d’oevres. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Tell me, Pamela, do you come here often?”

*-*

An hour later, John is surrounded by several witches, who are all a bit tipsy, and some of whom are getting a bit too personal with John. 

One witch has her hand on John’s chest as she’s talking, and John would really like for her to stop touching him, but she’s giving him valuable information about their suspect, a witch named Esther. 

“She used to live up on the first floor, you know,” the handsy witch is whispering in his ear while stroking his chest. “Her old room is still unoccupied- ow!”

The witch flinches back and John looks down when he hears a loud hissing and growling.

Cat Sherlock is glaring daggers at the witch while he hisses at her threateningly.

“Your cat bit me!” the witch howls in outrage.

“Sorry,” John says, giving the witch a charming smile. “Never have been able to teach him any manners.” He takes his still hissing and growling cat-shaped boyfriend by the scruff and moves in the direction of the stairs. “If you’re quite done with the dramatics, I think I figured out where our lost necklace is,” he whispers.

Cat Sherlock stops struggling and glares at him. Unhand me at once!

John sets him down on the floor and crouches down. “Can we go finish this case now please?”

Cat Sherlock’s tail flicks in indignation, but he indicates the stairs. You’re going to have to carry me. My legs are short.

John sighs and puts a now pliant Cat Sherlock on his shoulder again. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Cat Sherlock says nothing, but the way he looks at John and licks his paw is answer enough.

*-*

“Stop it,” John hisses. 

It’s not that hard, John. Insert the pick, and feel for the pins, Sherlock instructs, watching John work as he’s perched on his shoulder. 

“I know. It’s really difficult to concentrate with you sticking your claws into my back. I feel like an oversized pin cushion.”

Cat Sherlock heaves a sigh and jumps to the floor. We’d be done with this already if you hadn’t spent all night flirting with everything that moves.

“Oi, I didn’t flirt with anyone. They flirted with me.”

Didn’t see you complaining.

“I was interrogating- Oh, finally!”

The door opens with a satisfying click, and John pushes the door open.

They search the room quickly and efficiently and find the stolen necklace within minutes. 

John breathes a sigh of relief as he puts the cursed object into the containment pouch Mrs Hudson provided them with. His relief turns quickly into horror as he hears a voice from the door. “Here you are, you naughty boy. I’d wondered where you’d gone.”

The handsy witch from downstairs seems to have followed him and is just closing the door to the room, blocking his way outside. She stalks towards him and backs him against the wall, putting a hand on his chest. “Oh, you’re so yummy,” she whispers.

“That does it,” a decidedly human voice says from the mouth of the black cat on the floor. There’s a sort of giant poofing sound, and Sherlock Holmes emerges from his cat body, eyes glowing red and fangs out, in full indignant glory. “Hands off,” he hisses, still sounding astonishingly cat-like. 

The witch screams and flees, and John takes one look at his bristling boyfriend and starts laughing.

“I’m glad you find this funny,” Sherlock grumbles.

John, still giggling, fists a hand in Sherlock’s ridiculous coat and pulls him closer. “I never noticed how catlike you are when you’re all hissy,” he says. “It’s admittedly sort of hot.”

“Sort of?” Sherlock asks, eyebrows raised in indignation.

John presses a kiss to Sherlock’s lips. “Very,” he murmurs, nosing his way up Sherlock’s throat. “Wanna go home and bite me a little?”

Sherlock makes a show of considering, but the possessive grip he has on John tells another story. Finally, he sighs and says, long-suffering but with a wicked grin, “Yeah, all right.”

-----

This was a deep cut into Raina lore, lol. But fun! Catlock!

I've started a collection of these ficlets on AO3 here and already added it to @calaisreno's collection.

Tags under the cut as always. Please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.

@jrow @peanitbear @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @jolieblack @totallysilvergirl @catlock-holmes @victorianpining @helloliriels @meetinginsamarra @discordantwords @givemesherbet-blog-blog

[bonemarrowrites]

Ancestral Transgressions

Team Formerly Known As Bunch O'doods Chapter III

Contains: M / M+, Dwarf x Ghost(s), Dubcon, Gangbang, Double/Triple Penetration, Semi-public sex , +3k words.

Scroll to this ╭ᑎ╮  mark to skip the story parts.

Short explicit fantasy story.  Dwarf healer finds spirits and more.

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The ancestral statues of my kind laid waste in the large hallway where we had made our camp. The air was a little bit easier to breathe here due to the size of the room, but I could still feel myself sniffling every now and then.

Most of our group was fast asleep except for Ilo, Vasil, and I. I was sharing my watch with the gnoll, but the half-orc had decided to join us after he had returned from his foray with the plump little gnome. They had disappeared for hours and we had been worried until both showed up like nothing had been wrong. I had seen them doing such things a lot lately, but I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

In the caves, we had to battle with large spiders with dangerous poisonous fangs, which had made my collection of healing herbs shrink too much for my liking. According to the ancient map we had acquired there was an old necropolis near the hallway and I knew I might be able to regain some herbs from there. Now that the half-orc had joined us, I wouldn’t have to leave the sleeping members of our group unprotected.

“Hey, since Vasil’s wide awake and everything seems to be quite calm,” I began to talk as the gentle flame of our campfire sooted the ceiling high above with its ash. Ilo and Vasil turned to me.

“I’d like to check something out, if it’s no bother to you,” I added while tending the flame.

“Check what and where?” The gnoll asked surprised.

“There is an old crypt just a couple of rooms away from us and I need more healing herbs. Since Vasil’s here, I don’t think we need a third one to keep watch.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to go alone?” Vasil asked, “It’s pretty calm here, so I can go with you if you want to.”

“I’m quite alright, I can sense if there are any evil spirits in there and I’ll run right back if there’s anything else. Dwarven crypts tend to be very safe because of the sigils we’ve always used to protect our dead. If I go there meaning no harm, then no harm will come to me,” I explained to them. I actually was far more keen on going there alone than with someone else even if it had been dangerous to do so. It was a burial ground after all and entering it was almost like a religious experience for me, having the half-orc stomp around would desecrate the site.

“Okay, you usually know what you’re doing, call us if you need help,” Ilo said and waved his hand.

I let the two continue their idle chatter, collected my things, and began to make my way toward the slightly ajar bronze door that would lead me to the crypt.

The air around me got colder as I got further away from the fire and I could feel shivers go through my body from mustache to butt hair. Honestly, some of it might have been just excitement from visiting such a site, but I wanted to brush it off to be stemming from the cooling air.

Once, these hallways had been full of life. My kind lived here for centuries and thrived until something forced them to move away. There are no surviving records and the great calamity of the Silent Years had been wiped from our collective memories, partly due to the generational trauma and the hush forced upon us by the other races. My kind was never allowed to share or talk about our culture, making it wither to non-existence, which is why such dungeons as this one had stayed hidden for so long.

I used my magic to detect dangers every so often, but my path seemed secure. Only the hollow echoing of my footsteps and the gathering dust filled the empty hallways I traveled along. I finally found a large arched doorway and the steps leading down into the necropolis, I gently brushed my hand against the wall as I made my way down.

As soon as I got down I saw the hauntingly beautiful dead lights lit the large chamber below, revealing the hundreds of crypts carved into the walls of the necropolis. Giving the dead a never-fading flame was a way to honor them and let them know where their burial site was located so they would never haunt the living. The sight had made me speechless even though I hadn't uttered a word since I had left the campsite. These people had been dead far longer than I had been alive, yet I could still feel a connection to them.

They were me and I was them.

And I had been right.

Even though the crypt belonged to the dead, it was still full of life. Lichen, moss, and different small plants and mushrooms filled the cold stone floors decorated with intricate carvings made centuries ago. I gave a small prayer before stepping from the final step and entered the room unharmed. I could feel spirits, but none of them were malicious. I stood still for a while and took in the sight. I had to force myself to move as otherwise I felt like I could have stayed there for hours. Ilo and Vasil would no doubt get worried and rush in if I stayed there too long and I had a job to do.

I began to collect the plants and mushrooms muttering small prayers to the dead. My voice would have been the first one they had heard ever since this place had been abandoned and talking to them felt like my duty at that point.

I was deep in my thoughts when something touched me from behind and I almost let out a scream. I got up and spun around, but could not see anything. My magic told me there was a spirit nearby, but it wasn’t an angry one.

“Uh, my apologies if I disturbed your eternal slumber, I’m here to pay my respects and collect some herbs. I’ll leave as soon as I’m done,” I whispered when I felt something pull my belt.

“Hey! I can leave right now if that’s what you wish!”

Another pull.

╭ᑎ╮

I quickly gathered my things and got ready to leave when I was stopped in my tracks. Something had grabbed me by the love handles and was grinding against my rear.

Oh, I thought.

Oh.

The dead might not have the same needs as the living, but they still used to be us.

“Hey, listen, I’m not-” My words got stuck to my throat as another set of invisible hands began to unbuckle my belt from the front as the other one still kept grinding on me.

“Please, I’m just going to leave, this isn't what I had in my mind when I came down here,” I pleaded, but neither of them stopped. I began to struggle myself free when a third invisible force joined in and my pants and armor were pulled down.

Someone or something took my flaccid member underneath my belly fat into its hands and began to stroke it gently. Every time its unseen hand touched my thighs it made the hairs on them stand up from the static electricity. The sensation turned my refusals into soft moans and soon my cock was harder than the stone floor below my feet. 

Something hard was placed between my cheeks and rubbed my crack with long strokes as someone else began to pinch my nipples covered by my cotton shirt. I couldn’t see anything, but I could feel more of them nearby, gathering around us as I was forced to my knees. I had collected their plants and now they would collect their payment with or without my consent.

An imperceptible tip prodded against my lips as the invisible hand grabbed the back of my head and began to pull me closer to shove it in. The feeling of small electric pulses filled my mouth as the thick shaft entered it, tingling and bitter. I tried to pull away, but the ghost was determined to use my mouth as its release and began furiously thrusting in, pulling it almost out before ramming it back in. At the same time, the long invisible member grinding against my rear began slowly to nudge its way in, spreading my hole wide open, and filling my rear with the same tingling sensation I had in my mouth. The unseen rod was far larger than what I had ever tried before and as it worked its way deeper in, my muffled screams echoed in the crypt, joined by the disembodied moans of my attackers.

The cock abusing me from behind reached the end of my tunnel and let it rest there for a while. My whole body shuddered as it began to pull out, reaching the rim and sliding easily back in, not chained by any physical rule or norm. As it began to pick up its pace I laid prone on my knees, ass up in the air. The specter behind me grabbed my arms and pulled them back, raising my head slightly as the one in the front kept pounding into my mouth.

My fat belly and tits were bouncing in rhythm with the hammering I was receiving, making my cock leak pre-cum to the cold floor, still hard as ever. It didn’t take long for the one abusing my mouth to finish, it pulled out with a loud popping sound and shot it's cold creamy seed on my face. The glowing ectoplasmic fluid exploded on my face out of nowhere and made its way to my nostrils, forcing me to cough. Before the first drop managed to reach the ground, it shot another load, making my beard glow in competition with the dead lights surrounding us.

“Please, let me go…” I wailed, before another invisible member entered my mouth, larger than the previous one. It hit the back of my throat and began to pump in and out its assertiveness filling me with its size and deep shame at the same time. Before I had seen this place as a holy one, now I wanted to be defiled in it. Pumps coming from behind became harder and faster until suddenly it slammed deep within and the same cold feeling filled my rear. Just as it pulled out another one took its place, not giving me any time to rest between the shift changes. The ghost let me grab the floor again with my hands and placed its hands on my hips, stretching my hole around its girth.

I gasped feverishly each time the cock between my lips pulled its whole length out, not sparing any thought to how I must have looked to an outsider. Invisible forces were gaping my holes and I jerked helplessly back and forth on my knees as my mind was drowning in the sea of lust. Their rhythmic pace made me come and just as I lost my strength, my mouth was filled with the same cold seed I had experienced earlier, followed soon by the same sensation filling my ass again. Without any care, they dropped me into the ground and I gasped against the stone, their glowing fluids gushing out of me.

Another set of unseen hands raised my ass back up again and plunged in. It put its hand on the back of my head and pushed it down so no other spirits could take their turn with my mouth. Even though my rim was looser now, the girth of its member forced me to spread my legs wide apart as the juices filling me trickled down my balls. Ghostly balls slapped against my thighs as I huffed in the face planted tightly into the ground. Without mercy, it took what it believed to be rightfully its, pommeling its member deep within before finally releasing its load inside.

The amount of glowing seed I had in me had made my belly protrude slightly and the tingling feeling was spreading through my whole body. The spirits turned me to my back and I was forced to take another pair of cocks. Both groaned as they soaked me with their fluids, my mind barely able to take in how many times my body had been violated by them when all of a sudden I could feel my legs being lifted even higher and something else pushing my whole body up.

Too vulnerable to resist, I could feel two tips enter my hole, lubricated by the glowing fluids constantly leaking out of me. A sharp thrill went through my body as they impaled me, quickly gaining speed as my entrance allowed them in. A third one joined them, using my mouth as its pleasuring hole. All three began to fuck in me in a way I had never been before, roaring with hollow voices as they impaled my whole body as my body rocked back and forth. Their cocks were throbbing vigorously as they got closer, their heat no doubt increased by the fluids already inside of me.

A hot curling feeling tightened my balls and I was forced to come again. I saw my load hit something, leaving the dripping seed hovering in the air. Invisible balls slammed to my face and the spirit buried its cock deep inside my throat, leaving me breathless as its seed exploded inside my throat. The other two hastened their speed before slamming in at the same time and finishing inside me.

Finally, a moment of clarity found me and I quickly got back on my knees, got my armor, and stumbled up towards the stairs. They had me for hours and others would come soon to search for me. I crawled on all my fours up the stairs and managed to somehow pull my pants back up, only to feel something sliding them back off and spreading my cheeks.

“Come on! Haven’t you had yours already?!” I yelled exhausted, the spirit not giving me any answers before plunging its tip in, taking me right there in the stone stairwell. Desperately, I kept climbing up as it fucked my weary hole. The spirit groped and stroked my body as we moved together, not giving up on its need to be pleasured by something living and warm. As we reached the hallway above, it was still going, getting up did not seem to slow down its pace or make it awkward for it to slide in and out of my hole even if it did for me. I had to hobble slowly with my legs wide apart as it kept pistoning into me. My spells did not work on it and without physical form, I had no way to push it off from me. Back in the camp, we had silver weapons, but harming the spirit seemed a little too far and my body seemed to agree as my cock was hard again.

I tried to pull my pants back again and succeeded, only to realize the thin barrier meant a little to the spirit, they had stripped me from pure memory, and they were not limited by the physical barriers. I huffed partly from anger, partly from the heat building inside of me, and carried on, letting the spirit do what it wanted as I toddled towards the campsite, hoping it would leave before I reached it.

But the spirit was not going to come as easily as the others had. It was constantly pumping in me, moving beneath my clothes unseen. I thought about letting it take its time when I heard loud sounds of clashing swords and shouts coming from the chamber we had our camp in, which made me run towards them, towing the ever-ramming spirit with me, trusting it to stay quiet, no one could see it and the movements it made could stay hidden underneath my armor and clothes.

The wide chamber opened up and I saw what had happened. Everyone was awake and there was a large carcass of an undead boar-like creature in the middle of it. Everyone was alive but weary and some had wounds.

“Hey, Leeto! You missed the best part!” The half-orc shouted, waving his bloody hand. “We might have needed you after all!”

“My apologies, I got delayed… Are you alright?” I stuttered, trying to focus on what had happened.

“Just small wounds and bruises, we’ll be good, glad to see you tho,” Ilo panted between his breaths. Melesina, our leader, and the gnome were already looting the still-warm corpse of the creature as I began to heal those who needed it. The spirit was still plunging itself to me and when I crouched down it seemed to pick up its pace. An unwanted moan escaped from my mouth just as I was healing the gnoll.

“Wow, did you hurt yourself?” Ilo asked.

“No, It’s just my knee, it’s been hurting for a while now,” I lied, gritting my teeth, trying to stop another moan. Evading it became harder and harder and I excused myself after getting a long lecture from Melesina about going alone on my trip, during which the spirit had decided to grab my cock and pleasure me. The awkward lesson had ended with curious looks from others as I made my way to my tent.

The spirit was still on it when I got on all fours again, cursing it yet finding my new companion thrilling. Its rhythmical movements matched with the stroking of my cock made me cum and my weary body dropped down on my sleeping bag while the spirit kept its pace, brushing against my cheeks coated by the glowing fluids.

“I might need those healing herbs myself,” I panted as the spirit was still pummeling into me with powerful thrusts, hilting its whole length deep enough to make its tip protrude from the front, rapidly picking up more speed when it realized we were completely alone. With one final slam, the first load erupted with incredible force into my already-stuffed hole, forcing the growing bulge in my belly to stretch even more. My whole body trembled as it released a second and a third one, lastly plunging its member even deeper and giving me its final load. I bit the edge of my pillow to muffle my cries and the spirit was silent, keeping its member still inside as the last drops of seed joined the others. It caressed my nipples gently and I could feel it lay next to me, the energized sensation only wading a little bit as it was also worn down.

The spirit had attached itself to me and would stay with me as long as needed or it was exorcized, but I knew I didn’t mind it. At least as long as it kept me satisfied and would stay out of sight as it fucked me.

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

23. Intoxication - Lo’ak/Spider

Story is also on ao3!

(tw blood, gore, torture, implied noncon, abuse, implied incest, implied csa, self-esteem issues, dehumanization, addiction, identity issues, implied mind break, past child abuse/neglect, hyperventilation)

It’s not just hunger, is the thing.

Hunger is an old friend. Hunger was his closest companion growing up in that fucking orphanage, chewing the lice he picked out of his own hair just to get the edge off. Hunger is all the times they've locked him down, all the times he's starved himself, all the times they had to stay hidden and couldn't hunt.

There's hunger now, yeah, biting into his stomach, but that's not quite the right word for the way Spider's head swims with every breath, his undead heart thrumming into his chest like he's about to blow apart. He wishes he would. He wishes--

A hand on his hair, tugging him closer. "C'mon, baby." Jake's voice is so soft in his ear, so gentle. "Drink up."

He wants to. Oh, fuck, how he wants to. The world lurches dizzyingly around him, a blur of gray walls twisting by, bruises staining Lo'ak's skin blue, red crusted on his skin. Wide eyes, almost gold in the candlelight. Panting, heaving for air.

"Fuck you," he growls, and the venom in his voice makes Spider flinch, even though he deserves it, he deserves everything. "Fucking bloodsucker, I'm gonna--"

"Language," Jake chides, tapping Lo'ak lightly on the side of the head. The blow is still enough to send Lo'ak's head rocking, hair rustling across the stone, and Spider wince.

"Please--" he begs, and snaps his mouth shut, because he can fucking taste the smell in the air, he can feel it crawling down his throat and dancing in his guts. His very bones ache, lights twirling before his eyes, and all he wants to do is lean into the beautiful crimson haze, all he wants is more, more, more...

"Smells nice, huh?" Quaritch smooths a hand over the back of his neck, tracing the old puncture wounds, the scar where Mrs. Ardmore burned him when he was eight. "Better than anything you've ever had before."

Spider shakes his head as hard he can, muscles straining as he tries to twist free of their grips. He can't, and he can't deny what Quaritch is saying, either--he's tasted so many people and animals over the years, more than he could ever possibly remember, but Lo'ak is different. Lo'ak has always been different, Lo'ak has always been more.

Maybe that's what Spider had stayed, in the beginning. Maybe it had less to do with thinking his daddies would never try to look for him living beside a family of hunters (and if they figured his secret out he wouldn't have to worry about being caught anymore) and more to do with Lo'ak, angry, loving, fearless Lo'ak. 

Lo'ak, who looks so much like Jake and smiles like Jake never could. Lo'ak who'd trusted him, believed in him, and is strapped down with blood dripping from his skin because of that mistake. Lo'ak, who stares up as they drag Spider closer like Spider is a stranger, because Spider is a stranger, here in his father's castle with fangs unsheathed and skin stripped bare for bloodletting.

A soft pulse ripples through the lights scattered across Lo'ak's skin, the power activated by the presence of vampires trying to tear his flesh. An ancient spell sealed long ago, protecting him from compulsion, from ever being turned. Not protecting him from Quaritch's hands, or Jake's teeth, or Spider's poison heritage eating away at everything they could have had.

Which means, he's still useful to them, albeit in a different way. Which means, they'll just have to be a bit more creative in breaking him. Which means Lo'ak's wrists and ankles bloodied from tearing at the cuffs and the smell is so wonderful Spider thinks his head might detach from his body.

He lifts at a muffled scream of protest, shuddering. His hands twist around the nails they've put through his palms, pain flaring dully, distantly. Jake clucks and wraps an arm around him, pulling their bodies together, his bare chest flush against Spider's back. Spider can feel the rough scrape of Jake's scars against his spine, like fingers scratching across his skin.

(The worst scars, he knows, are from the times when Jake would run away, too, and Quaritch was still honing his methods for taming unruly fledglings, punished in ways that would never completely heal. Spider's isn't sure how it took Jake to break, how long before he turned into the coven's most ruthless killer, before he shed Tommy like an old skin and claimed the name of the brother who'd abandoned him for himself. 

As long as I needed, he always says when Spider asks. And you'll get as long as you need, too, tiger. I promise you that).

Lo'ak's eyes flick from Spider to Jake and back again, like anything is better than his not-father's hungry face. His bare thighs ripple with tension and Quaritch rests a hand on own, petting the muscle. Lo'ak freezes, eyes going wide.

"What--" he gasps, shrinking away as far as he can, which isn't very far. "What the fuck are you doing, what the fuck--"Quaritch brushes his between Lo'ak's legs for a heartbeat and Lo'ak shrieks, head smacking back against the stone; Quaritch laughs as he pulls his hand away, the sound cold as frozen glass.

Spider wants to scream, laugh, sob, because Lo'ak doesn't know. He hasn't learned the lessons Spider has in the depths of his daddies' bed, hasn't discovered just how many ways you can break a body down. He doesn't know these things, and he was never supposed to, but Spider's selfishness damned him. Is damning him now.

Jake hums soothingly, stroking Spider's hair. "He was made for you, love." There's not an ounce of hesitation in his voice, there never is. "Your perfect familiar. You just have to claim him."

In the back of Spider's head there's a voice screaming he doesn't belong to anyone, but the need is growing stronger, deeper, a howl drowning out everything else. Water gathers in the corners of his mouth, fucking drool pulled out from that dark rotting part of Spider's soul that his daddies either planted or were drawn in by in the first place."

His knees hit the cold floor as Jake pushes him down, as Quaritch helps him bend his head like a penitent. Spider's hair brushes Lo'ak's, black and gold weaving together, and Spider wanders if they're going to end up having to pose for one of those fucked-up little paintings his daddies like so much.

"Spider?" Lo'ak pants. "Don't--don't touch him. Don't, Spider, dude, don't--" He's heaving for air, hyperventilating too badly to speak.

It takes everything he has to keep his lips pressed together as his mouth feels Lo'ak's throat, Lo'ak's pulse like gunfire in his ears. The world is spinning around him, ears whirring, everything fracturing and twisted and perfect like nothing he's ever dreamed of. He can feel the scent rolling through his nose like a tidal wave, too much too much locking desperate jaws with not enough.

"Boy." Quaritch's voice is iron-rigid. The word should piss Spider off--he's centuries old, for fuck's sake--but it fits with how helpless he feels right now, how helpless he always is. He's so much younger than his daddies, so much weaker, and smaller after a childhood of malnutrition that even vampirism couldn't really cure.

And Lo'ak is younger than any of them--a child caught up in the jaws of fucking monsters, and it's all Spider's fault. Stupid to think he could ever escape, stupid to think he could ever be happy. Stupid to think he could resist, stupid to keep trying.

"You want us to be his firsts instead?" Quaritch asks. "We don't mind. But we're not exactly in the market for familiars right now, you know." He's right--Quaritch has that sniveling dipshit Parker, Jake has that whackjob Alex. And if they've got no need for familiars...

"It wouldn't be fun," Jake murmurs. "Killing family never is. But his ancestor was a filthy fucking traitor and we need to make sure it's not contagious. Do you wanna help us with that, tiger?"

He can't. He can't. Can't watch Lo'ak be bled out and thrown away like so much trash can't doom him to a life in this place, a life with a familiar's creeping madness wrapped around him like a noose. Spider sobs, heaving for air, feeling his fangs start to tear skin before he can stop them. Red droplets trickled down his throat and his head sags like a heavy weight, pulled even closer, even deeper.

"I'm going to fucking kill you," Lo'ak whispers--eyes squeezed shut, so it's impossible to tell who he's speaking to. Spider hopes he means all of them.

"Be quick about it," Quaritch growls. "Or we won't stop you before he bleeds out."

It'll be a fucking mercy, Spider wants to see, but he can still feel his mouth forcing itself open bit by bit, wider and wider. Lo'ak lets out a pained cry, face slack with shock, horror, fear. Betrayal.

"I'm sorry," Spider gasps, a useless fucking apology like every one he's ever made, and swallows the first mouthful of blood. It hits in a blaze of sweetest light, like the only paradise something like him will ever get, and Spider feels a sickening wash of gratitude as he's swept into oblivion.

[aka-indulgence]

How does robo-skider sans deal with 'problems'? Like with humans he doesn't like with his dear 55?

(Warning: HORROR, like, the genre, not.. ht sans.. dsjkhd, but anyway there IS  murder (no gore, but still), so if you dont want that, don’t read!)

Blue eyes gaze through the windows, the home star glimmering in the distance through the blackness of space. A human was walking on the outside of the ship, a sort of advanced "tool-belt" around their middle.

Though they were wearing a suit, Sans knew this wasn't his human. He would've gone with you if he knew you were going out, and he'd know it was you in the suit from having following you around so much.

Though this time, he'd make sure you weren't around. He was sure you were at the living quarters, or maybe at the cafeteria getting breakfast. The rest of the crew should be occupied by now, having experiments to run and other various work. The man walking above is one of them, Sans isn't sure for what he was space-walking at this time, but he doesn't really care.

Crew-Member 4.

Far from the only human he despises, but definitely one that has been getting Sans' attention lately.

"It's not like you actually got fucking hurt, did you? It wasn't even that big." He spat.

Your face was red, and Sans saw your eyes water. "What the hell?! I thought everyone here knows the danger of space debris. Do you remember what happened to Sans?"

"Stop saying that, why did you even give it a name? You treating it like a pet or something?"

"You're not listening to me! Sans lost his leg-"

"You have a suit."

"Sans is made of metal! If it can tear through metal-"

"Ugh, you're so..." No. 4 trailed off, openly expressing his irritation with you. "Your job's simple. All you had to do was fix the exposed panel. Now it's still exposed. Everyone here has something important to do and no one's complaining."

"But-"

"Fine, why don't I do it? Since you're too 'in shock' to do it. I think I need to measure the radiation-disparity soon anyway..."

Sans had stepped in when you tried to argue back and No. 4 looked like he was going to yell. 'Stress-levels', he'd say. No. 4 left the room and Sans got to be alone with you, to comfort you in any way his programming limitations let him.

He’d been watching No. 4 intently since then, though not as obvious as he’d been when he was watching you. He’s aware of the man’s judgement, and Sans was clever enough not to make him think that Sans was following him. Sans was just... observing. His behavioral patterns. Nothing suspicious.

Today, Sans suspects he’s outside to try to “prove” that he can easily do your job while doing his own tasks. The arrogance he reeked... even Sans could smell it.

Sans keeps watching those legs bounding on the outside of the ship until he got to where that unfinished repair was located, and Sans skitters to the airlock.

The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout.

The doors close behind him, and Sans can no longer hear anything- not just the fact that the air has been sucked out and he’s in a vacuum now, but his system turns off his “ears” automatically when he went out the ship. The only communication done outside is through radio. The door to space opens silently, and to a human exiting for the first time it would’ve been eerie.

But Sans isn’t a human, nor is this his first time.

No one could hear the clink of his legs over the ship’s exterior. No one was around to hear it anyway, even if they were right under these panels, all of them were on the other side of the ship.

Right now it’s just him and No. 4.

He was crouched down over the panel you had been fixing about... 7 day cycles ago. The one Sans had so stupidly looked away at that moment, having to fix something else, when he heard you screaming...

... no. 4 doesn’t know how terrifying it must be to lose your tether with no means of reconnecting.

If Sans could scowl, he would now.

Sans stalks closer, rage bubbling underneath his metal outer layer. He knows what he wants to do, what he wants to happen to No. 4, he just... doesn’t know how he’ll do it.

The idiot doesn’t even turn to look at him, Sans feels very lucky in that moment that sound doesn’t travel in space. Sans isn’t too far now, probably on the edge what would be the “circle” his safety protocols would allow him near a human.

... Of course this wasn’t a problem to him anymore, the last time you shut it off to fix him he had “neglected” to remind you to turn it back on.

No, he’s not stopping because of his programming. He stands there, only a bit away from No. 4. Like a predator waiting in ambush, except Sans wasn’t even hiding- there was nowhere to hide. The only reason his prey- No. 4 didn’t notice was his rapt attention on the broken panel in front of him. Broken into pieces that Sans couldn’t pick and clear properly with his size and tools that weren’t made to handle things delicately. It seemed that No, 4 wasn’t sure how to deal with it. He was just staring at it. He didn’t have a replacement. He didn’t even use your E-pad to at least get some sense into what he’s supposed to do.

Sans is partly glad he isn’t using it. The E-pad was yours, and you were somewhat fond of it, it seemed. He wouldn’t want you to lose something you liked.

As Sans stands there, processing a mile a minute on how he should go about this, he suddenly remembers to look up, turning his skull around to inspect the dark ‘sky’.

An alert system in him for when he was outside- compelling him to check for space debris at regular intervals.

And for once, Sans is actually glad to see a couple coming towards the ship where he’s standing. Perhaps from the same cluster that made you lose your footing on the ship.

Sans purposefully took his eyes off of No. 4, off his radar, then swiftly moved outside the range he predicted the space debris would hit. He watched as what seemed to be small chunks of meteorite ‘fall’ towards the ship, feeling them clunk over the metallic plating.

He connects to No. 4′s radio.

“Shit!”

Down came the rain

Sans looks up and sees that No. 4 has lost his footing and is slowly spinning vertically, flailing his arms and legs helplessly as he tries to gain some kind of support, and getting nothing.

Sans would love to spend a little more time watching him panic, but he had to do this quick.

And washed the spider out.

He shot forward, close to the tether, watching the swaying rope with intense eyelights. One hand closes around the rope to stabilize it in front of him, the other one, ready to extend his ‘cutting-claw’ to-

ACTION DENIED!

Object: Tether Rope.

TETHER ROPE IS CURRENTLY IN USE BY CREW-MEMBER 4 OUTSIDE THE SHIP. IF ACTION CONTINUES, CREW-MEMBER 4 WILL BE DISCONNECTED!

His hand stops mid-space, his programming straining against him to keep his hand from touching the rope. He tries to change tactics, extending the cutting claw on his other hand, but his other safety protocols had been activated. He was frozen.

‘Must not harm humans.’

‘Must prioritize human well-being.’

His fingers were trembling as he pushed.

only one human matters.

he is not that human.

he isn’t needed.

dispose him.

He feels as if molten metal had been casted into his joints as he tries to push his hand closer to the tether, with the ‘claw’ extended.

DENIED!

Above him, still connected to the radio, he can hear No. 4 breathing in panic, muttering curses under his breath- before Sans hears a gasp, and he looks up.

No. 4 is looking at him now, Sans can see through the visor, his eyes staring at Sans.

“What the fuck- why’d it have to be him that came for me,” he sounds disdained, filled with disgust.

the feeling’s mutual.

Sans strains harder, his legs locking up as he tries to push his claw closer to the rope- No. 4 obviously not noticing if he thinks Sans is here to help him.

His hand budges closer, then tugged further.

“The hell... are you having a fucking crash or something? Just pull the rope! You have one hand on it!”

Sans knew he should be thankful of his expressionless face, but right now he wishes No. 4 could see that he was seething with anger and hate.

he’s never liked me. nor i, him.

he was always the most vocal in hating me.

he treats me like a scrap of metal.

he probably wants to dismantle me.

No. 4 was still yelling at him, but Sans wasn’t listening. The indignation at the way he’d treated Sans over the course of his time on the ship helped budge his hand a little, but then Sans thought of something else...

Someone else No. 4 had never cared too much for.

he always tried to pressure you into doing something.

he thought you were lower than him.

he thought you weren’t important.

he was dismissive of you.

he liked to mock you.

he yelled at you.

The rage was fueling him in the battle against his programming, trying to override the wall blocking his way to freedom.

No. 4 was yelling at him.

Sans felt like poison was building inside him, from how much he wanted this man dead. But then his thoughts kept drifting away from the instances No. 4 had been rude or insulting to him.

Instead, his ‘memories’ drifted back to when he was in the room when it was only you and No. 4. How hurt and angry you looked, how you just wanted him to understand, and No. 4 had talked over you. Thought your troubles were trivial, that everyone else had ‘more important things to deal with’ and you had ‘an easy job’. When he left Sans saw you cry behind your hands, before quickly rubbing them away and you tried to put a smile on your face when you saw Sans.

No. 4 was yelling at him like he yelled at you.

“Hey you stupid robot!?” No. 4′s loud voice came back to his attention, sounding rather irritated and out of breath from how much he spent shouting. He hadn’t moved from his position on the tether, apparently too lazy to pull himself in and is just waiting for Sans to do what he’s supposed to do.

“Hello, can you hear me?” He asks in the most condescending tone. “I know you can, I’m pressing the radio button. Cut this shit out and pull me back already!”

Sans turned his skull up, away from the tether and right into his eyes.

Ṛ̶̊̐ȯ̵̟b̶̜͒͜ȩ̶̌ȓ̶͇̭t̶̩̉ visibly pales at the glare he sends him.

“... no.”

His claw cuts through the tether, with a little twang up the rope when he forces through the stubborn end.

“Wh... what?” Robert’s horrified, quiet voice was so deeply satisfying to Sans’ non-existent ears.

He feels something bubbling up inside him as he watches Robert frantically try to pull on the rope in vain, though this time the emotion inside him wasn’t anger.

“No... no no no NO!”

It was glee.

“heh.... heheheheh... heheheheheheh!”

Robert was whimpering now, breathing frantically as he drifted further, away from the ship, looking at Sans with horrified eyes.

There were no chains on him anymore. He broke his most sacred rule, and in turn broke the rest of his digital bindings.

The warnings were silent, absent. There was nothing holding him back.

Robert was still, staring at Sans. “No... no this isn’t... this isn’t real, you’re... you’re just an machine, you can’t...”

“oh...” Sans purred, delighting in the fact that he actually purred his words, “but i can.”

The ship was slowly spinning. The nearest star had “risen” and cast a bright light over him and Robert, sharp shadows falling away, forming Sans’ into a horrible stretched version of his body; legs thin and sharp.

Sans tilted his head at the floating figure in the distance, his eyes crinkling in a way he wasn’t able to do in the past. It feels so liberating to be able to show emotion, even just a little bit of expression on his face. It especially felt good when he could see that Robert was shaking in his suit. He knew- Sans was really smiling at him.

“farewell, robert.”

Out came the sun

Robert was screaming now, listening to Sans’ manic laughing through the radio. Music.

And dried up all the rain.

Sans relished in the sounds of him shouting until his words turned into non-sense, which then turned into loud, wracking sobs as he mourned his own death. The oxygen of the suit could last for a few hours- the last few hours he’ll spend drifting further and further from safety.

Oh how he longed to finally see him suffer.

Though his smile was unmoving, it felt more like a smirk as Sans returned to the airlock, letting his radio shift to static for Robert. His last interaction with something ‘living’ being his murderer.

The doors parted, and Sans walks in, back to the ship, as if he was back from usual business.

And the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again.

[hpalways]

The Signature || Zhongli

Yandere! Zhongli x Reader

Please make sure not romanticize toxic relationships. I do not condone this behavior whatsoever. 

AMBER eyes were stuck on you, never once leaving your form. They belonged to the Geo Archon, Zhongli, the attractive man you befriended not too long ago. His long ebony hair had left its hair tie, drooping loosely over his shoulder like a soft waterfall as he rested his hands on the surface of the desk -- the desk in which you were forced to sit at. 

In front was a long piece of parchment, handwritten by the male delicately. On it stated:

An agreement that [Y/N] will stay by Zhongli’s side forever. The signer will not speak, look, or stand near anyone other than Zhongli. The signer will be cherished, so they will also have to cherish the other party. They will enjoy their lives to the fullest, as long as they do not step out of line and make sure to follow the rules laid out to them. 

[Y/N] will never stop loving Zhongli. They will speak of topics in interest to both parties. They will drink tea and spend mora for the two of them. They will unconditionally love Zhongli. They will love Zhongli. Zhongli will love them. For an infinite amount of time. Forever and always. Always. 

They will never die. They can not die. 

DO NOT EVER DIE.

Punishment will come if they dare break the contract. The signer knows what this means. 

Signed: _____________

The hand on the pen was gripped so hard, your knuckles had turned white and it shook. Your breath was shallow; A headache began to pound. His eyes would never leave. You were his priority now. Every action was a ticking bomb -- anything could set him off easily. 

You didn’t want to fucking sign it. You knew it was a death trap, but did you have a choice? Not really. 

Zhongli noticed your torn expression, so he tilted his head with a quiet hum. “Is it that hard to sign something?” he stated coolly, his gloved hand brushing over yours. The leathered feeling sent shivers down your spine, and it took everything not to cringe away. 

“I was just… thinking,” you murmured. He raised his brows slightly, quickly interested by your words. Maybe you could buy some time and figure a plan out to leave this room unscath. Luckily enough, the God of Geo was a man who often went on tangents. “I was thinking about the first day we met. You made me pay for your tea at the teahouse.”

He nodded eagerly, stroking the bottom of his chin in thought. “Why, yes. I can remember that day as clear as the skies of Liyue. The tea made for me was quite striking. Made of violetgrass and it tasted delightfully smooth too. Then you came in and made it taste even better. You were all dirtied from battle, seeking for a nice drink to be refreshed on. It caught my attention immediately, but when you offered to pay for me, I knew you were the one.”

He described the meeting in a dreamlike tone, oblivious to the jarring reality that sank its teeth on everyone like a poisonous snake. You shouldn’t have paid for him that day; you shouldn’t have even made eye contact and spoken to him. This was the consequences to your failure of judgment. You could only now sow what you reap. 

He swerved around the desk, growing ever closer to you until he was right next to you. His warm breath hit the side of your face, the smell of soft mint wafting up your senses. “Now… let’s not get off track here. Sign this, my love. I promise you it’s not that hard.”

Dammit. He was too focused on the contract that you barely had the time to brainstorm. Nothing was coming to mind. 

Footsteps echoed throughout the office of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. You turned around in desperation, hoping it was someone who could save you from such a situation. There, stood a merchant, his hand holding advertisements to his stalls.

“Hello, I’ve come to--”

When his eyes landed on you, the figure beside you had made his move. Zhongli grabbed his polearm and with a clean swipe, beheaded the speaking man. The body-less head made a perfect, slow arc in the air before dropping to the ground with a sickening crunch. You let out a gasp, panting raspily in shock, stomach twisting within itself in nausea at the sight. What… just happened? That man just died. Oh god. Oh fucking goodness. You suddenly realized something. Help wasn’t ever going to come. No one could best Zhongli. He was a god! 

“Why did you… do that?” you choked out, gulping down the huge lump in your throat. As a pyro vision user, you had your fair share of witnessing deaths. But this was wrong. Someone innocent died for coming into this room. On account of you. He died because of you. 

“On the contract it’s stated that you cannot look at someone. Besides, he interrupted our moment.”

“I haven’t even signed the contract yet!” you cried out in hysteria. This was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare. 

“Oh,” he said, blinking in surprise. “That’s right. You haven’t. Well, this serves as a warning.”

You could never leave him. Trapped in a glass box within all corners, you were to be suffocated by his presence forever. There didn’t need to be a contract; you were already in one. He would kill your loved ones if you didn’t -- he knew of the weakness humans had, for he lived long enough to observe. He had guilt tripped, blamed you for it all, and knew that you would indeed succumb. The deaths were caused by your actions, painting you in red of a blood bath. 

The pen made its move. Ink bled into the paper, marking it as a tattoo. Indeed. This was permanent. It would continue to haunt you for the rest of your life. The writing was barely legible, pressed down so hard it became jagged like shards. 

[Y/N] [L/N] was finally written on the goddamn page. 

Gods were so selfish. They truly didn’t like to share-- whether that’d be war, the world, or the love of their life. If only you had known beforehand. 

“This is marvelous,” he exclaimed, his expression brightening up. He looked so joyous at the signature, lapping it up like a starved dog. His reaction was so unnerving, especially since the dead body was still in the room, rotting away like the corpse it was. Disgusting. Your hands and his were bloodied and he had no shame. “[Y/N]...” He raised your limp hand and kissed the back of it. “I love you. We shall be bound by this contract. Know that I will protect you, no matter the cost.”

You stayed silent. He was trying to make it romantic, but this entire thing was surreal to you. Either he was ignoring your lack of response on purpose or he did not notice. Tucking the contract away into the pockets of his brown, gorgeous coat, he eyed his hair. 

“Tie my hair, my dear. I’ve always wanted to feel your warm hands on me.”

You nodded robotically in response, getting up from your seat to reach the towering male. His cheeks flustered when your fingers weaved into his soft strands. But it was cold. They felt like weaving spider webs, ready to entrap a poor bug victim into its complex trap. That was what you were. Every second spent was eating you away, until you were nothing but dust.

[britishassistant]

Crowley kid! Yuu gets kidnapped by one of the villain dorms and Crowley is touring the the lair and just come across his kid, just chilling their designated chair snacking and roasting the villains, maybe joking around with the minions a bit and then they see each other and it’s like that Spider-Man pointing meme

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

This kiiinda got away from me a bit, but I thought it would be good since this blog has now reached over 200 followers! Whoo! Thank you all for your support!!

Crowley was just popping by to see how Leviathan’s operation was running.

He liked to do this kind of thing, show up when the supervillains competing for his attention least expected (or appreciated) it and demand they show him how their operations were running. The reactions and sights he got to see where always so much more honest than what a prearranged visit could offer him.

Take Leviathan-kun, for instance.

The young man is uncommonly nervous in Crowley’s presence, not quite stuttering, but clearly not far off from it either. He keeps adjusting his glasses minutely, making the light flash off them even as he rattles out his salesman’s spiel of guarantees and flattery.

The thieving corvid inside Crowley preens. Today was an excellent day for a surprise inspection.

There’s clearly something going on right now that Leviathan was desperate to hide from him, which just makes Crowley want to dig deep and uncover whatever this dirty little secret is and drag that wriggling, struggling weakness into the light.

Great Seven, he loves his job.

It doesn’t take long for him to ferret it out—as desperate as Leviathan is to redirect his attention the loyal minions moving like schools of fish through the lower levels of the lair, he doesn’t have the authority to do anything but totter after Crowley as he strides towards the control room of this fine establishment, his cane clicking against the ground with every step.

Great Seven, he loves his job.

There’s the raised voices of Leviathan’s lieutenants emanating from within, along with...someone else?

Crowley pauses, taking in the scene inside.

There is a person is tied to a chair in the center of the room with one of the Leeches hanging sideways off of their lap, arms wrapped around their shoulders as he leans backwards and swings his legs back and forth. The chair is beginning to teeter dangerously.

“Floyd, if you make us fall again, I’m suing you for damages.” A familiar voice quips.

Crowley’s insides go cold.

“Aha! So mean~ I’d never let you get hurt, Shrimpy~” The reckless and violent twin coos, nuzzling close.

“You already did.” The most kidnapped reporter in this city deadpans. “Twice.”

“Bold of you to assume that you’d be able to press charges in the first place, Yuu-san.” The sadistic and coldblooded twin grins.

“Azul likes me better than you two, he’ll represent me if I sell him my kidneys.” Yuu says loftily. “Plus I have witnesses, like that guy...there...”

Well, that’s ruined his dramatic entrance, but Crowley slams open the doors anyway, making his cloak billow and letting those leeches see the angry flash of his eyes.

“A-hem!” He booms. “What exactly do you think you’re doing? Is this how you think professional villains behave?!”

The sadistic twin stands to attention, bowing shallowly to him, as though that will keep Crowley from noticing how he’s moved in front of the hostage and his violent brother, who’s curled over Yuu with his feet planted firmly on the ground and is cocky enough to think baring his teeth at Crowley is somehow a good idea.

“Floyd.” Leviathan’s voice is clipped, moving towards his henchman and the captive. “My deepest apologies on behalf of my staff, sir. I’ll instruct them to take the prisoner back down to the holding cells to continue the inter—”

“No, you will not.” Crowley commands, swirling towards the aquatic supervillain. “You will release them from your custody immediately, and as I am so gracious, I will be sure to educate all of you about how violating personal boundaries—”

“Oh, come off it, you old crow.” Yuu drawls, one eyebrow twitching. “Don’t start pretending like you care now.”

The sadistic brother makes a small, choked noise. Leviathan has gone so still it’s doubtful he’s even breathing. Even the violent twin is staring at the reporter like they’ve grown a second head.

He clears his throat to hide the small sting in his chest at the remark. “W-why I don’t know whatever you are talking about, stranger I have never met before. I will arrange for an escort to guide you home, as I am so gracious.”

The reporter scoffs. “Well, isn’t that just the story of my life. I told you last time, I don’t want any of your goons within ten blocks of my apartment, remember?”

“Yuu, while I always appreciate your sparkling wit, please stop talking.” Leviathan mutters, eyes focused on Crowley. “Are you aware of just who this person is?”

“Who he is? Of course I know who he is.” Yuu’s exasperation is evident in their voice. “He’s my bio dad.”

Crowley bristles, feeling his feathers puff up in alarm. “Hatchling!!”

Leviathan chokes, wheezing for air as he gasps out, “Bio—what—?”

The sadistic Leech brother is visibly startled, whipping his head back and forth between Crowley and Yuu, lips moving too fast to read though no sound comes out.

“Eeeh~? The big scary boss man is Shrimpy’s dad? No waay~” The violent Leech brother jabs a thumb in his direction. “Who would fuck him?”

“HOW DARE YOU—!”

“Nobody.” Yuu says. “I was born via in vitro fertilization.”

“Hatchling~!” Crowley whines, disliking how wrong-footed his child leaves him. “That is hardly kind!”

Yuu lets out an undignified snort. “Sure, because that compares to dumping me back on Uncle Divvy after a week out of the test tube with instructions to leave me under a bridge somewhere.”

Both Leech twins pin him with equally unnerving stares, and Crowley has to remind himself that he is three times the villain they’ll ever be, that they couldn’t actually hurt him even if they did both attack at once.

Leviathan is just leaning against his desk, mouthing “Uncle Divvy” to himself with the sort of frquency usually reserved for those afflicted by Divus’ hysteria gas.

“We talked about that!” Crowley pleads desperately. “It was to make sure that you could grow strong through adversity! I could hardly expect you to take up my position if you grew up soft and dependent, now could I?”

“Babies are soft and dependent, that’s the whole point. I’d have been dead within the week if Uncle Divvy hadn’t given me to Mom and Dad.” Yuu sighs, slumping back into the chair. “Whatever. I’m never taking over from you and I don’t want any of your money. Can I go home now?”

“I’ll arrange for a car as I am so gracious—” Crowley states firmly at the same time as Leviathan interjects with “Ah, let me take you—”

He shoots a poisonous glare at the young upstart, and then at the unprofessional lackey who’s still clinging to his child.

“No thanks, to both of you.” Yuu sighs. “I’ll just call Yuuken to pick me up—”

“Eeeh?! But Shrimpy, he’s so lame and boring!” The twin in Yuu’s lap whines. “I can’t even squeeze him properly!”

“Yeah, that’s not really a negative here.” The reporter quips, putting up with the way the merman whines and nuzzles into their shoulder, teeth dangerously close to their jugular.

“I don’t like him.” Crowley sniffs. “He’s too good an influence on you.”

“Well, guess whose business that is?!” His offspring asks cheerily, before dropping back into their irritated moue. “Not yours. I’ll spend time with whoever I please, you can go suck an e—”

“I’ve called you a cab, Yuu-san.” The sadistic Leech brother pipes up, pulling his phone away from his ear. “It’s already paid for, so please don’t worry about it.”

The reporter frowns again, before shaking their head with a tired sigh. “Thank you. I need to go sleep off a migraine, so untie me and I’ll see you three next week or something.”

Leviathan moves forward to tug swiftly at the ropes pinning their arms behind their back and pulling his henchmen off of them, finally. “Let me escort you out at least. It wouldn’t do to have any more unpleasant surprises before you got home.”

“Fine.” Yuu pins Crowley with that look that always makes him want to squirm. “Have a lovely day, Dire Crowley-san.”

“Likewise.” He watches his heir walk out as the violent Leech twin calls out “Bye bye, Shrimpy~!”

He turns to those two upstarts, drawing himself up to his full height. “I am certain I don’t need to impress upon you the fact that none of what went on in here leaves this room, yes?”

The sadistic one meets his eye for a moment, spreading his hands wide with an unpleasant smile. “I am unsure of what you mean, Crowley-sama.”

“Yeah, dunno~” The violent one chirps from where he’s now perched in the recently vacated chair.

“Well, suffice it to say that Divus came up with a very interesting potion to affect merfolk, some years ago.” Crowley allows himself a cruel smirk. “One that gives them legs permanently. Shame it doesn’t do the same for lungs. I will not tell him how...carelessly you boys have been treating one of his most prized experiments, as I am gracious, am I not?”

He watches the pair of them swallow reflexively with a thrill of dark satisfaction. “Yes, Crowley-sama.” They chorus.

“Wonderful!” Crowley chirps, clasping his hands together. “Now, I think it’s time for a special lesson on respecting the personal boundaries of one’s hostages, don’t you?”

[pure-kirarin]

The flowers of evil - Sanji x f!reader (Hanahaki)

A/N : Hiii ! thanks a lot for this request. I had a lot of fun writing it ! I didn’t know what hanahaki was before. I really adored it. It’s such a beautiful metaphore for one-sided love. I hope that you will like this ! 

Hanahaki definition : a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated (wiki)

Warnings : Angst (but happy ending) - Unrequited love

____________________

You forgot when it all started, when these doomed flowers of evil began to blossom allover your body, asphyxiating you, extracting the air from your lungs. The mysterious sickness took over your body, metamorphosing it into a garden of murderous flowers.

Red spider lilies, a field of them, encercled your frail limbs in your sleep, strangling you almost to death, sealing your agony. It was a slow process, a sadistic sickness that savoured each second of torture.

But what was worse ? The pain of the thrones scratching the delicate skin or the pain of a love that was doomed to fail ?

As the flowers grew, you simply withered. Watered by your tears, every day, every breath bringing you closer to an end. For a crime you weren't guilty of, for a love you have never asked for.

« If someone told me that I'd die this way...I would've killed myself. »

And it was true. Your paths crossed with the Strawhats by a mysterious fate. They have found you just after your ship got wrecked by the marine.

You were the only survivor. How ironic.

It was as if you survived just to die to that illness.

The evil flowers have spared you to savour the pain.

Since there were no options, you had to stay with them, but little by little they grew on you just as you grew on them. But someone stood out. His kindness was something you have never encountered before. It was all in the eyes, in his laugh, in the way he treated you like you were the only woman on earth. Oh god, it seemed perfect, too perfect ?

« I am so happy to be his friend ! »

Why couldn't you settle for that ? Why did you want more ?

It was greed and yearning. Craving a happiness that wasn't yours. He wasn't one to give his heart to one woman. You knew it too well, but then, why did you want otherwise ?

The heart wants what it wants. You stopped looking for a reason.

It all started by a habit, a ritual. Coffee in the morning, no sugar, no breakfast.

The cook always woke up earlier to prepare food for the crew. You on the other hand, weren't a breakfast person.

Until you met him.

« Y/N-chan, you're up early today too. » He said, back turned to you, pouring coffee in a cup.

The smell of the coffee invaded the kitchen. You were sitting in front of the table, hair in a mess, yawning. His voice was soft and comforting ; a morning breeze.

«I like waking up early. I get some peaceful moments before everyone else wakes up. » You chuckle.

He puts the cup in front of you. Not only the cup, also a plate with a pastry on it ; a croissant. You look at Sanji, confused ; he knew that you didn't eat for breakfast.

« I made this especially for you, (Y/N)-chan. It's bad to skip breakfast. »

You still remember the buttery richness of the croissant, the face he made as your teeth sunk into it, Just try it for me, he said.  And he was right. It was delicious. Was it his skill as a chef, or his encouraging smile that stimulated your appetite ?

Your appetite for something else grew simultaneously.

The long nights you have spent contemplating the stars on the deck. The times he taught you how to use a knife and how you almost cut your finger. And the sweet, sweet taste of croissant balancing the bitterness of coffee, like a bandaid on a deadly wound.

If you didn't love me, why did you do all of this ?

Sometimes, when your chest couldn't take it anymore, you were visited by that thought, that cruel thought. You blamed him. How couldn't you ? It was his kindness that made you fall. It was his gentle smile that was going to be the end of you. And yet, what hurt most wasn't the flowers that grew in your lungs, it was the pain of not being loved in return. The pain of not being good enough for a man like him.

At first, it was a few petals that you coughed. You didn't understand, but when he was closer to you, you felt so light, when he was further, it felt like death. Your yearning for him grew, your body was moved by a fever that made you wish to be dead.

It took you a few days to figure out that the sickness that was gnawing you from the inside like a worm was love sickness.

You knew the condition, it was hanahaki, you have read about it in some fairytales. How could it be real ? Its victim has flowers grow inside of them, grow till it kills them silently.

You tried to hide it, but how when you had a month to live at best ? Everyone started to notice your pale complexion.

You were decaying by the day. In front of you, you had the disease and the cure.

« (Y/N)-chan » His voice. His damned voice making you fall even more. You turn to the side, facing the wall, resting in your bed. You refused to look at him. Did you really loathe him for not loving you back ?

Seeing that you didn't answer, he just keeps talking,

« These are beautiful flowers.. » He says as he looks at the red spider lilies resting in a porcelain vase. Would he say the same if he saw the flowers on your body ?...

« You should tell me if you don't feel alright...You're different those days. You don't even eat anymore. You can count on me. I know that you will feel better if you open up.

-You know nothing at all, Sanji »

You cut him off and sit down on the bed. You were just wearing a nightgown that showed your bruised arms. Fine cuts caused by the flowers that grew on your skin were displayed. You had to snatch them violently multiple times a day.  

« You know nothing at all, you said that these flowers were beautiful. Do you even know what they mean..Sanji ? »

He looks at you in disbelief, he holds your arm, looking at the cuts. His touch feels like ice and fire on the bruised skin. His thumb caresses softly a wound, making you shiver. Don’t touch me in that way or I will fall even more...

-Who did this to you ?!

The bruises were like ones of ropes ; it was the stem of the roses that would encircle your arms in your sleep. You snatched off your arm, how could you tell him that it was him ?

You did this to me Sanji.

- It's none of your business...Come on. Leave me alone. I don't want to see you.

The words you spit out felt like poison and hurt him.  You didn't even dare looking in his eyes. Those cruel words, you said them so he goes away. To stop the suffering. His worrying looks hurt more as they emphasized your unrequited love. You put a hand on your lips, nauseous.

-(Y/N) ! This is serious. What is the matter with you ? You look sick. I'll call Chopper right now. You go rest.

He gets up and you follow him, almost falling on the ground. You hold his arm, head on his back.

-Don't go ! Please don't. I don't want anyone to see me like this. There isn't anything Chopper can do for me. I am done with all of this. I want it all to end.

[ If it hurts this much, why am I still in love with you ? If it pains me so much, enough to kill me, why does it have to be you ?

If only I have closed my eyes and let myself die that day. If only I died along with my comrades. I would have had a meaningful death.

But here I am, having to die of love.]

You stepped back and started caughing red petals. You put both your hands on your mouth trying to cover it. Sanji turns back, terrified. He didn't understand what was with you, his cheerful, gentle (Y/N)-chan. He didn't understand why you pushed him away like this, as if his fingers burned your skin. As if his mere sight was killing you.

-Don't look at me...Please...Sanji...Don't look. You fall to the ground, your head looking down and tears running down your cheeks. It pained him so much to see you in that state. The petals you were coughing looked like blood. It was stupid, he felt cruel to think that even in such a state you looked so delicate, a flower.

He held the hand that you had on your face and moved it away to take a look at your face, eyebrows frowned, an anger growing inside of him. So, you, his (Y/N)-chan was in love with a bastard that didn't love you back ? It was certain. He knew about this condition.

Hanahaki, a mythical disease born out of one-sided love.

-(Y/N)-chan...This is...

-Hanahaki. You whisper, you can't hide it anymore now, it's too late,

He holds you against his chest, now thorns growing around your body. And you thought that in that moment, you could die in his arms and you'd be happy. Maybe in another life, you thought, maybe in another universe you'll love me back. Maybe it's the price I have to pay for having you...

-Don't die on me. Please. I am sure that...That this bastard loves you back. I mean...You are a goddess, (Y/N). How could anyone...do this to you. Tsk. It makes me sick just to think of it. I'll go look for him and bring him right now ! Hell, I'll kill him if he doesn't love you back.

You have a bitter smile. The flowers grow more and more, you were now vomiting entiere flowers that fell into his lap. You held onto him tighter.

-It's impossible...He is...An idiot...He doesn't even notice and it's right in front of his eyes...

-It doesn't matter. Just tell me who and I wi-

-Why ?! Why do you keep being so kind to me ? Why did you do all of this ? Why are you so gentle, so caring ? Why did you care that I don't eat breakfast ? Why did you make sure I don't feel cold on the deck ? And most of all, why are you like this with all girls ? It kills me...bitter laugh.  Your kindness is killing me ! Don't act like this if you don't want girls to fall for you, you idiot ! Don't play with my feelings !

The blond man froze instantly. He has never imagined than a woman like you would fall for him, and to realize that you were suffering because of him left him in a loss of words. Him, Sanji, the lovecook, the man that devoted all of his existence to please women, those delicate creatures that he wasn't worthy of. The same Sanji was the reason of your distress and the object of your desire.

To feel desired to the point of death was flattering in a cruel way but also so foreign. He has convinced himself that no woman would love him and he was happy that way. It was enough for him to share the air that you breathe. But you were offering more ; a flower so pure, so delicate that his fingers could turn into dust.

-It's me that you love ?...

You didn't have any strenght left. You didn't answer. Your days were counted. You felt your chest getting lighter after confessing. It was relief. Words that had to be said.

-It's because of me that you were suffering so much...(Y/N)-chan...You...Wanted someone like me this much ?

He holds you tighter and the thorns sink in his skin, but he didn't care much, the pain that he was feeling inside was way bigger.

-I never thought that I deserved someone like you. I never thought that I deserved to be loved. It was enough for me to see you smile. But you are telling me that you are dying because I don't love you back ?...I would give up my life for you.  And because you want someone like me, because you love me this much, I will make you the happiest woman on earth.

It was at this moment that you made him realize, you, on the verge of death, that even a man like him could be loved ; A man that even his father didn't want.

Your eyes were veiled by tears, was he saying this only to mess with you further ? However, the flowers stopped from spreading, and the petals started fading away little by little.

-Sanji...You...I...

He puts a finger on your lips and just says with a smile ;

- (Y/N)-chan, thank you for loving me. For wanting me so bad...Nobody has every loved me the way you do...Nobody has ever loved me to death. 

He kisses your tears and adds ; 

-I love you too. 

[annonymouslyblonde]

Where I Should Be

Fandom: PJO/HOO

Pairing: Percy x Annabeth

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: Set during Mark of Athena the night of the day they found Percy. What if the stable scene wasn't the first moment alone Percy and Annabeth had? While I love the stable scene, Annabeth just isn't patient enough to have waited that long to catch up with Percy. My take on an additional scene for MoA.

A/N: Everything follows canon for HOO other than the fact we don't have a consistent timeline on the amount of time Percy was missing. So bare with me. My headcannon is that for Percy, it was a few months (thanks to his Hera induced nap), but for Annabeth, he's been missing eight months now.

The slight creak of the door woke Percy. After four years of fighting monsters and Lupa's training, he had learned to sleep lightly. Before the door could close, Riptide was uncapped and at the intruder's throat.

A sharp gasp came shortly before the person hissed, "Percy, it's me!"

Annabeth. Of course, it was only Annabeth. Percy sheepishly lowered his sword. Nothing said "I've missed you the last eight months" like a sword to the throat. Then again, she had judo flipped him, hadn't she? Seemed fair enough.

"I thought you were a monster!" he whispered harshly in defense of his actions, but Annabeth leveled him with a signature glare.

"A monster quietly making it past Jason on guard and opening your bedroom door instead of exploding it?"

His cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Hearing it aloud especially from Annabeth did make it seem pretty ridiculous.

"I was half asleep, and stranger things have happened. Besides I wasn't exactly expecting anyone tonight."

Annabeth looked away from him distracted, half asleep herself. She was barefoot and clad in her favorite worn flannel pants and a camp half-blood sweatshirt of his that was definitely too big for her.

"You're right, I'm sorry," she admitted quietly. "I just- I shouldn't have come, it's stupid. Go back to bed, Percy." She started to turn for the door when he dropped his sword completely to reach for her.

"Hey, don't."

He turned her back to him. In the light of Riptide, tear tracts stood out on her cheeks, and her eyes were red, puffy, and glassy like she may cry again any second. He gently stroked her cheek.

"You've been crying," Percy noted. She wiped angrily at her eyes trying to remove the evidence.

"Nightmares again?" he asked gently. Percy was always gentle with her when nightmares plagued her. Being vulnerable didn't come easy to Annabeth, and he felt honored she would trust him enough to show her vulnerable side.

When she confirmed his suspicions with a nod, Percy collected her in his arms and felt her sigh with relief. He remembered how awful the nightmares had been before at camp and when she'd stay at the apartment, even taken a few elbows as she fought them when she fell asleep during their movie nights. And now? A shudder cut through him trying to imagine how awful they must have been when he vanished. For him, it had only been a few months, but Annabeth had been looking for him nearly a year now not knowing what she may find on the other end.

He pressed a long kiss to her hair and asked, "Which one this time?"

Percy was familiar with most of them by now. Her mother and father rejecting her, blankets turning into spiders, standing at his funeral shroud in hand with everyone telling her he was gone, him accepting the offer of immortality and leaving her alone. And now he had actually left her alone at camp for eight months. The thought made his stomach turn.

"Same one I've had the last few months," she mumbled into his chest. "Every worst-case scenario. You not remembering me, not wanting to leave Camp Jupiter. Or not finding you at Camp Jupiter at all, that you'd never been there and we were completely wrong. Or worse." He knew the "or worse". Her biggest fear used to be abandonment and rejection, but now it had become more than that. The worse was finding him already dead.

"When I woke up, I just- I didn't trust my own mind that we really had found you. That you were really here. I thought I'd finally snapped. Today was probably the best scenario I could have thought up, and you know how it is for half-bloods. Things never go right."

He tightened his hold and stroked her tangled curls, burying his face in her shoulder. "Today they did. Right enough at least. I'm here. I'm with you where I should be."

"I'm so sorry, Percy," she sobbed into his shirt. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. I failed you epically."

"No, you didn't." He gently extracted himself taking her face in his hands and made her look at him. "That was all Hera. You did everything you could. I know you did."

"I can't help but feel like that's my fault too. After all, it is Hera," she spat the name out with a much venom as gorgon's blood. Somehow her voice could do that. One side sweet and comforting, another as deadly as poison. "She had to take you. Part of me feels like she took you to get back at me."

Percy couldn't help the chuckle. "Oh, I've done my share of angering that psycho goddess."

The pair stood for a moment in an extended silence. It wasn't enough to alleviate her guilt and he knew it. So he continued.

"It had to be me I think. Any other half-blood getting to California and through the wolf House with no memories? Even if I didn't know about it, I had Achilles' curse protecting me until I got to camp Jupiter. It saved me more than a couple of times."

"Until? You mean-" Her voice trailed off as her fingers grazed the spot at his lower back that he'd confided in her was his only weak spot. His stomach flipped at the gentle touch of her fingers in a way that had nothing to do with the weak spot he previously had.

"I had to give it up to enter Camp Jupiter," he explained. The realization donned on her.

"So when I flipped you earlier-"

"Oh yeah felt every bit of that, thanks. Probably bruised my back along with my ego," he teased. A thunk sounded as she hit her head on the door.

"I'm an idiot," she groaned. "Of course you couldn't carry a Grecian curse into a Roman camp. I'm sorry, Percy. I never meant to hurt you." Her hands skimmed his back hoping she hadn't hurt him too badly.

"I know you didn't, babe." Her heart flipped at the affectionate term. He didn't use that one often, usually when they were alone, but it did strange things to her whenever he did call her babe. It still felt surreal occasionally that they were together in that way. The days of them arguing on the way to LA didn't seem so far in the past.

"You were angry and scared and had every right to be after I disappeared like that. Besides you've done more damage in sparing practice. I'm fine."

She didn't say anything, choosing instead to wrap her arms around him again assuring herself he was really there. Soon, he felt her breathing even out against his neck, and she slumped heavily into him starting to fall asleep again. When he shuffled them towards the bed, she stirred making the task more difficult.

"Come on," he whispered into her nest of golden curls, loving the way she burrowed into his arms. "Lay down with me."

"Can't," she mumbled sleepily. "I shouldn't even be here. I need to go before we get caught."

"I think we've earned this for one night at least. It's been too long since I could hold you." His arms tightened around her, adding to his point. "I'll even set an alarm so you can sneak back before anyone is up. Better yet, where's your hat?"

"Stopped working," she spat out bitterly. "Only gift mom ever gave me, and apparently she kept the receipts. I don't wanna talk about it."

That concerned him. If Athena was taking things from Annabeth, what did that mean for the rest of them with their parents? Percy made them promise to be better with their kids, and here they were a few months later going back on their promises. Typical.

"You and your mom aren't talking again?"

"No one is talking. Olympus has gone silent except for Hera apparently." Bitterness crept back into her voice as the hurt and worry of the last several months tightened in her chest again. Before her mind could go too dark, the ship pitched suddenly sending them tumbling into his bed and Percy into a fit of laughter.

"See even the ship is telling you to stay."

She snorted and settled against him as he pulled a blanket around them. If the Fates seemed to be telling her to stay, then who was she to argue. Curled into his side, she took a deep, comforting breath of the salty air that seemed to follow him. The smell of the ocean, the smell of him, always calmed her now. Automatically, Percy ran his fingers through her hair. Well as much as he could considering it was a knotted mess.

"Speaking of moms though, your mom and Paul are doing well. They've been worried about you, but they're good."

"You went to see them?"

Distractedly, she drew Greek letters across his chest needing to keep her hands busy. Curse half-blood ADHD. It was always worse when she didn't sleep well, but Percy didn't mind. The light touch of her fingers dancing across his chest focused him. All he could think of was her. The smell of her shampoo. Her warm breath as she spoke to him. The feel of her securely wrapped in his arms. He never wanted to forget this again.

"I wanted to keep them informed and see if they heard from you," she answered having finally ordered her thoughts enough. "I've been going at least once a week when I'm at camp. Your mom's kept me sane the last eight months."

"She's pretty great like that. I tried to call her. I don't know if it helped or made things worse. I didn't really explain too well."

"It helped," she assured him with a squeeze. "She managed to forward it to me, and we must have spent an hour on the phone together listening to it. It was good just to hear your voice. And speaking of, you should call her in the morning. The camouflage on the ship will make it safe for a phone call."

"She's going to kill me when I get home," he groaned. Annabeth laughed into his chest. It was the best feeling in the world to hear that laugh again.

"Probably so, then she's going to hug you for a month straight. She wanted me to tell you she loves you and misses you. She never doubted I'd find you."

When Annabeth first came to tell Mr. and Mrs. Jackson-Blofis about Percy's disappearance, she made sure Sally knew she would do whatever it took to bring him home. The older woman merely nodded and smiled at the younger girl.

"Of course you will, dear. I have every faith in you." And she hugged her. Sally never once doubted Annabeth's ability. And later as Annabeth worried over the quest from her mom, it was Sally that held her hand reassuringly and told her everything would be alright. In the past eight months, Sally Jackson had become a rock to Annabeth, and she would never be able to thank the woman enough for that. The woman never doubted that she'd find the most important thing in both their lives.

"And she shouldn't have." Percy interrupted her thoughts, answering both her words and internal musings. "Because you are amazing."

Looking down at the girl curled against him, Percy couldn't help but finally feel at home. Emotions overwhelmed him fighting for dominance. Pride in her. Anger for being snatched away. Fear that it would happen again. Happiness to have her in his arms again. But one feeling was more powerful than the rest, and he needed to make sure she knew before anything else could happen.

"And I love you, Annabeth Chase."

She propped up on her elbows, staring at him dumbfounded. A long quiet moment passed before Percy broke the silence with a nervous laugh.

"Oh that's so sweet," he mimicked in a high voice. "But you know I'm not sure I feel that-"

She shut him up with a kiss. By now, they had kissed lots of times. There was Mt. St. Helen when she had surprised him with a kiss. Or the time they came back to camp high on the victory of defeating Kronos when they had kissed by the lake. And of course, the best underwater kiss ever which had become every underwater kiss since. But every time she kissed him, it made his stomach flip just like it was the first time all over again. When they finally parted, she leaned her forehead against his with a satisfied smirk.

"Of course I love you, seaweed brain. Think I'd have gone searching for eight months if I didn't?"

"I'd do it for you," he vowed, wrapping a ringlet around his finger. "I'd do anything for you."

"You're proving my point for me."

She smirked at him, and he took the moment to truly study her face. She was beautiful as always, but the deep, puffy rings under her eyes had definitely not been there before. Her cheekbones stood out sharper and he realized when he held her, she was thinner, gaunt even. He could feel each of her vertebrae when he ran his hand down her back. Her face was noticeably paler as well, and her hair lacked its normal shiny, glow. Overall, she pretty much looked like death warmed over. He traced the purple skin under her eyes.

"Gods, Annabeth, when's the last time you slept?"

She rolled her eyes at him. The first time he told her he loved her followed up with how tired she looked. Leave it to Percy Jackson to ruin a beautiful moment.

"Always the charmer, aren't you?"

"I mean it." The laugh in her throat died with his serious tone. Percy was seldom serious. "When's the last time you actually slept a full eight hours? And you haven't been eating well, I can tell. I know how you get when you stress."

Annabeth settled against his shoulder again, not able to bear the concern on his face. No, she hadn't taken great care of herself lately, and she didn't need Percy to remind her of that. Sally did enough of that commenting on the increasingly dark circles under her eyes, always insisting she stay for dinner, that she was getting too thin.

"I couldn't," she finally admitted in a small voice. It seemed pathetic to her now that she hadn't been able to take care of herself, but she lacked the will to without Percy. All of her focus has been on finding him.

"I had to find you. When I did sleep, I snuck into your cabin or fell asleep in your bed at the apartment." She paused waiting for his reaction. Would he be angry she snuck in there? Would he not like her sleeping in his beds while he'd been missing? But Percy just tightened his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her head. She released the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. It amazed her sometimes how Percy always seemed to know exactly what she needed.

"Being in there where it smelled like you, it was the only way I could actually get some sleep. Chiron had to know, but no one ever said anything."

Tears collected in her eyes, and she turned her face into his chest trying to stop them. Percy was the only person she ever let see her like this, weak and emotional. The only time she let herself break was in the seclusion of the Posidon cabin curled around his pillow.

"I missed you," she whispered hoarsely.

"I missed you too. The whole time, all I could think about was getting back to you. You kept me going, kept me alive."

"You mean you remembered me the whole time?" she asked incredulously. How could she have been the one thing he remembered? When Jason showed up, he hadn't remembered anything. It didn't make sense to her that Percy would remember anything, much less her.

"Yeah. Whether she meant to or not, you were the only thing Hera didn't take from me. The second I woke up, I didn't know my name, but I knew yours and knew I had to get back to you no matter what. More things came. The quests and all. That kiss under the lake. But it always came back to you. You're ingrained into who I am now, Annabeth. You were the reason I kept going because I knew I had to get back to you."

She leaned up pressing her lips to his again, tracing every inch of his face trying to memorize it. The kiss spoke everything they had struggled to say to each other. Her euphoric relief seeing him alive and well. His hope for a future with her in New Rome. The deep connection that had tied them together since they were twelve. Everything.

"I love you, Percy Jackson," she breathed against his lips, pouring every emotion she felt for him into the words. He grinned that lopsided smile she adored so much.

"I love you too, wise girl."

[simpz-art-stash]

A friendship poisoned by bad blood between brothers.

Day 4 - Poison for Starsfic’s prompt list!

Have a lil fic from the rp which inspired these drawings <3

Fang had of course went the same route as she usually did via cloud. Picking up Mei and telling her to wait atop one of the nearby skyscrapers. That she'd stay connected with her via phone call to allow her to listen in just in case. And that she'd call for her help if it felt like backup was needed.

Hopefully that would not end up being needed.

But the closer she approached the peak of the tower, the more her instincts were screaming at her to bail. She could only chalk it up to nerves at that point.

Just seeing his blurry silhouette in the distance waiting for her left her a lil uneasy as she approached.

Red stopped pacing when he caught her approaching. He glared silently at her, trying to look mean. However, the pained look in his eye made the effect more akin to constipation.  

"You have 1 minute to convince me I shouldn't just throw you from this roof." He said, hoping she'd be combative and he could explode on her.

"Well you're lively as ever.." Her brows furrowed a little, at least he didn't look like a dead mess inside like she did. Though he did look like he'd been put through a few restless cycles... Stepping off the cloud, her eyes barely glanced around to the garden, her sights set on him. Everything put back as it were as if their little scuffle hadn't happened at all. She stopped a few feet from him, looking just as uncomfortable to be there. "I need you're help. There's something ancient and evil lurking beneath the city working with Spider Queen. And someone told me that you've dealt with it before..." She claimed. "I'm not looking to reforge what we had because I know you're right. That we can't be together...But I was hoping at the very least..that maybe just for this, we could truce?" She looked at him hopefully.

"You're coming to me to help defeat the Spider Queen yet again?? Are you serious!? Are you all REALLY so INCOMPETENT that you cannot just handle her for once!? She's not even that strong of a demon, she just keeps getting lucky!" He snapped.  "Why don't you go ask your ole daddy to save the day on this one?? I've got better things to do!" If she would just leave, get angry and run off, he wouldn't have to....

She grimaced at him blowing up at her. Any other day she'd hardly find it all that hurtful to listen to him rage his frustrations into the air about her. But then he had to go and make things personal. And she only barely manged to keep her composure at him throwing her dad into the mix like that. "My dad's missing Red...I can't.." She sighed, crossing her arms as she glared at the ground. "Interesting." A voice of static crackled to life in one of his ears. His father's voice. "Proceed with what we discussed." Red winced at the static in his ear, but tried to pass it off. "Your... dad is missing?" He asked slowly. "UuuuUUGHHH!! FINE! Just... fine, let's sit down, have a drink, and talk it out, Monkey Princess." He waved her to follow over to the table. He reached under and brought out the drink. Rather spicy water, even for him. Ancient and potent looking. He must really feel bad about their break up...

She shot him a glance, almost a little surprised to see him succumb to her words. Honestly thinking he would've told her to just 'get over it' or 'who cares'. This only stoked what little hope she had for them. She breathed out a little, "Thank you.." Before she made her way over with him, sitting herself down opposite to him. Though she'd abstained from drinking for as long as she could, all the stress was just begging her mental status to relax.

He poured the drinks white she was settling, slightly obscured to her when he did. 'Better you than me,' he thought as he dropped in the poison. This was a mantra he'd adopted over the centuries when he started to feel bad about the things he did. This was the first time he didn't quite believe it. He picked up the glasses and handed the poisoned one to her. He sat across from her and took a bigger drink from his than he ever normally would, needing this for courage not to knock the glass from her hands. To her, it would just seem that their falling out was harder on him than he let on.... which was true.  Evidenced by him  brushing a finger over his old facial scar, something he didn't even realize he did when he was anxious. "So what in the realms could POSSIBLY have you worried about that self-important pestilence infesting the sewers calling herself a queen?" He FINALLY asked.

Though a part of her wanted nothing more than to just drink the night away like it were any other, she knew they had more important business. And considered that through the end of it that maybe it would be better to simply savor what she could of what time they had. Opting for once to speak over her drinking for the first time in a while. "She's working with someone..someone a lot more powerful. An ancient demon with dark magic..." She contemplated aloud, "We think it might've been what gave her the boost she had when she tried to take over the city the first time..but we're not sure." She glanced at him. "You feel it too though don't you? The city has been restless for weeks...something worse is coming." He winced when she didn't immediately start drinking.  He did contemplate about the city being restless.  "I thought that was just me being a surly bastard." He tilted his head in thought.  But now that she mentioned it, yes, for once, it did seem to effect more than just him. He sighed and sat back, swirling his glass, looking bitterly into it.  "That would make sense, I suppose.  That something bigger than her would be what's allowing her to be more effective at her job than usual." Fang nodded a little, "We've got a name to her but..we're unsure of just how strong she really is. She's managed to put a curse on my brother..an lead my father down a path even I can trace him back to..she calls herself 'The Lady Bone Demon." There was a bit of an avid silence between them before that same gravely tone crackled to life in his ear, "Interrogate her on this enemy." If she wasn't going to off herself then to them then they might as well gain any intel they can on this enemy.

"Lady Bone Demon..." He furrowed his brow, not needing to be prompted by his father one bit on this.  "It seems like a familiar name, maybe I've come across her in my research." he shook his head.  "But do go on, please." he waved, urging her to divulge everything. "Someone did say that you've dealt with her before. It's why I arranged this meeting in the first place..they claimed that you 'dug' her up from the 'pits of hell.'" She pointed out, not really sure how true it was but she wanted to cover her source as he'd claimed he wanted no part in anything regarding it all. "I'm not pointing you at fault whatsoever, I don't think you'd purposely let someone loose like that just to give them the upper hand...I'm just going on the only lead I have at this point.." She claimed. Red Son's brow furrowed at that, and he wondered how closely his family was listening.  It had indeed been the Demon Bull Family to dig up this menace from the depths of the earth. "That's... That sounds like the ancient energy that my father had us dig from the earth... The one that possessed him.  The soul reason we blighted our names to team up with the Monkey King and Nyoodle Boy.  But we defeated that!  Noodle Boy dealt the killing blow!" So he had dealt with it before. "Apparently he didn't finish her like you thought he did, because she's underneath the city working to off us all." Fang stated, "All the signs are there, and this proves it." He shook his head, cursing his father's arrogance under his breath.  Not that Red would have done anything different, in fact he was one to help dig the spirit up, proud to help his father in his glorious purpose.  However, he was still sore that his father had turned on him and his mother, even if his mother had forgiven DBK. "So now this horrible power that possessed my father, nearly killed me, and already nearly destroyed everything anyone holds dear, is BACK?  With the Spider Queen of all people, that DOES explain how that little gnat took the city!" he growled and was on his feet.  "So?? What are you doing about it? What sort of measures are you taking to combat this?" She blinked a little in surprise at his sudden boisterous attitude, well at least he was putting his anger towards something more worthwhile instead of taking it out on her. "Weeell..we've got someone currently scoping out the sewers looking for them, in hopes that we'll be able to find out exactly where they are. We've also been looking for any manner of history regarding them, or any relic's that might be of use to us for this specific demon. As well as any other allies..but we haven't had much luck..we're sort of on our own here an I..well can I just be honest with you? I have no idea what the hell I'm doing..." Red had been pacing, but when she got down and honest with him, he stopped. He looked back at her, seeing the scared, vulnerable girl that she didn't let out much to anyone. She'd been working so hard to stop this, and she was floundering, and destined to fail. Maybe it would be kinder of him to end her. Maybe this was for the best. He came back and sat down, nearer to her. "Well. I suppose that..." he sighed. "Dont worry your monkey head about this. I will do everything in my power to stop this demon, then. Not for you!" He quickly amended, remembering his parents listening. "But to avenge my family's honor! Take down anything that thinks it could possibly be greater than the Demon Bull Family! The audacity of this Lady Bonehead." Hus ears were blowing out a tiny bit of steam after his fit of passion. And though it might've made sense to him that it would be best to truce in hopes of taking down such a powerful ancient enemy. His father apparently thought it just as much of a mockery the second time around than the first. Where Red saw logic, Bullking saw the only fleeting chance he had to finally one up his oldest enemy and lose what footing he could to overtaking the city. He didn't need the aid of ANYONE, the Spider Queen had simply gotten the jump on him. But he knew now that was just because of some devious relic. And he wasn't about to tarnish the family name further. So again he had to remind his son who was really making the demands here. "Remember your place child." He warned him, "If you value what little sliver of loyalty you have towards you're family you will do as I say. And follow through with your mission." A small chuckle escaped Fang then, and a tear almost would've escaped her had she not hid it by brushing back her bangs. "That's probably the most relieving thing I've heard all week..." She smiled at him, that glimmer of hope in her eyes in knowing he had her back. Her hand raising her glass to him as a toast, "May we both be victorious in the end." He felt his blood run cold at his dad's chastisement.  He knew he wasn't likely to be spared should DBK's wrath overflow.  His father had proven time and again that he was more or less expendable. He had a good upbringing, though, and raised his glass to her as well.  "May victory smile on the Demon Bull Family." he made as if to drink, but waited to be sure she was drinking first. Then he slammed his drink, standing up.  "We'll take it from here.  Just rest." he told her, brow twitching in dismay. She took her shot then, her face scrunching a bit at just how strong the after burn of it was before she sighed. "Thanks...I really needed this.." A tired smile stared down at the now empty glass, never the wiser. "I mean it..even if we'll never be able to speak to each other ever again after this. And pretend we hate each other's guts. I'll always cherish those moments spent between us all those years ago...Just so you know..in case something happens to you." She stated her claim, before slowly standing herself upright. "I'll always be here for you man." Oh sure. She was just going to twist the knife in his gut.  Curse these goodie two shoes and their sentimentality!  And she was outing him more and more to his family!  He should have used a stronger poison.  What if the alcohol nullified its effects?? "I will genuinely miss you.  Forgive me that I don't have your back..." he hunched his shoulders, thinking quickly.  His parents didn't have a visual on them, just an audio link, as far as he knew. Before her eyes, he started his agitated pacing yet again.  And suddenly, he yanked something out of his ear throwing it to the ground and crushing it under his boot.  "I'm so sorry Fang..." She tilted a little at his sudden abruptness to it all, having wondered if he was just getting misty at her being so forward of just how much she'd miss him. But watching his jerking motions prompted a bit of confusion to her. "What're you?-" Then there was a cough that escaped her, and looking back at her would reveal her holding a hand to her throat with a look of discomfort. As if trying to breathe only for further coughing to escape her. "Red?.." She wheezed a little, staring at him with a confused look. He paced a little more, trying to think of anything he could do to stop this.  Any antidote.  But there wasn't one, that's why they had chosen it.  At the cough, he froze.  "My father was going to kill me if I didn't--" was all the explanation he offered, before biting down hard on his tongue and turning his back to her.  Poisoning was one of his least favorite ways of killing someone.  Too personal, too up close.  Imprecise and messy.  This was DBK's own way of torturing Red, by choosing such a horrible demise. He couldn't look at her, and he turned his back, holding his head up.  "I'll take care of things from here.  Just rest." he repeated.  He tried to look dignified but he was close to throwing up. Further coughing ensued, her fighting just to get any ounce of air in her lungs at that point. Her mind finding it hard to focus on his words but she heard him, and she felt a sharp panic drop in her stomach as a swelling heat rose in her core. "W-what did you-" She tried to get another word in, trying to edge around the table to meet him, but found her limbs betraying her and forcing her to collapse on the ground with a cry. Tears pricked her eyes at the surge of heat that was becoming overbearingly hot within her. Like she'd just eaten a demon pepper, only it was causing her to lose every manner of senses and replace it with pure hellfire. Where all she could do was grip at her chest in agony and let out a wrenching noise as she bellowed out a pleading cry. But that wasn't the only thing that bellowed out of her right then, a plume of red smog began to leak from her nose and mouth. Only furthering her suffering as she choked on it all, unable to breathe in nothing more than the pure rage inducing concoction she'd had forced upon her. A sickened snarl escaped her right then as one of her hands gripped at the ground, clawing at it enough to leave marks buried into the concrete that had forged it. And though her breath was shallow, it warped in comparison to the haunting fury that now laced her breath. "What did you do to me?!!" She screamed. He tried to be cold and cool, aloof the way his mother had taught him to be.  A strong man, not a quivering, weak boy.  But when he heard her collapse on the ground choking he let out a pained cry of his own, ducking his head and covering his ears.  He should have just let his father kill him.  It would have been preferable to this!  His only friend choking to death behind him.  His eyes squeezed shut, causing tears to fall that he hadn't realized even welled up. The last scream made his blood run cold, a particularly horrid sensation for a man so hot.  Something was different about her voice at a primal level, and it caused him to spin around to face her.  Any pretense he had held before this point was gone, and his face was just that of a sick, scared child.  "Fang!" Another pained cry left her curled in on herself as she almost looked like she was having a stroke. But that couldn't of been farther from the truth as a wicked sense of something horrid radiated off of her, like a mix of dark magic and death. A whimper escaped her as her fur began to warp from its pure sunshine blonde to a morbidly dark black, her hands involuntarily flexing in on themselves as she let out a haggard breath. "I trusted you..." It was low, warped and hollow, and through it all somehow she forced herself up onto her knees. If not to just look back at him with a look he'd only seen her wear the first time they'd met when he'd fought for his life and given her that horrid scar of hellfire. A look a pure primal rage.

[fakeloveaskblog]

Janus!!!! You and Remus should go to play Lasertag!!! (is that how it's spelled? is that what it's called?) I'm sure Remus would love that!

(Words: 2206)

Janus: "Hmmm while I am not a big fan of the idea of lasertag it does sound like something he would like.......I shall give it a try"

Remus was banging on the vending machine right outside Picani's office to try and get some candy out. Janus was telling the vending machine it was a stupid piece of shit in support. They had just gotten out of their fake therapy session.

“HAHA!” Remus let out a triumphant laugh as he got the candy. He immediately lunged his goblin mouth down into the bag. Only stopping to ask if his friend wanted any. He said no.

“So...” Janus began. He fiddled with his gloves out of nervousness “I kind of had a falling out with a...friend a few days ago and I could- I mean- Maybe hanging out would I uhm help me to think of something else. IF You want to?! I am totally forcing you to hang out. No saying no allowed totally. Maybe lasertag would be fun?”

His friend had sugar all around his lips as he grinned “Of course J-anus! Anything for my snakey! Hey you can pretend the other people are your friend and fuck them up!!”

Janus didn’t get a chance to respond, his crush had already started to walk towards the entrance. He had a skip in his step and he was flapping his hands around.

“Oh I know a lasertag place not far away! I think I still have one of the highscores there!”

They took the bus to the place. They sat so they were facing each other instead of beside each other. Janus didn’t want to intrude too much on his personal space.

The lasertag place was half filled with teenagers and friend groups. Energy drinks and chips could be bought. On the wall a display of the records of the day, month and all time stood. On the tenth place on the all time records stood BUTTMASTER420.

“Aww I was on the 7th place the last time I was here” Remus pouted.

“It just means you have to get a new record today” Janus replied with a smile.

“That’s the spirit snakey!”

Remus once again paid for everything without giving his friend a chance to pay for himself. Janus felt a little embarrassed putting on the laser tag gear but seeing the stupidly big grin on his crush’s face easily made up for any negative feelings.

The game room was dark with only a few neon lights here and there. The fake walls and obstacles made so the players could duck from lasers were also clad in black. Hell even the fake pirate ship sitting in the corner for some reason was all in black!

The dudes were on the same team, the blue one. Along with some strangers. Even more strangers made up the red team. They had 30 seconds to find a starting position in the room before the 15 minute game started.

The moment they were let in Remus took Janus’ hand. He intertwined their fingers while holding his lasergun steadily in his other hand. He ran into the room, pulling his friend along, towards the pirate ship. To Jan’s surprise he ran past it and instead made them both hunch down behind a box.

“We can wait until some bitches have taken over the ship and then destroy them!! That way it’ll be even more exhilarating!” Remus whispered to him.

“Ah yes. The old stealing ship strategy. Done that many times” He replied sarcastically.

The signal went off showing the match had started. Remus let out a delighted squeal and shot up from the cover to shoot at people. His friend stayed hidden. 

He saw a stranger running and stopped when they saw them. They aimed towards Remus who was currently laughing like a maniac. Janus aimed back at the stranger and somehow shot right on their chest. Before getting up and pulling his crush along to the nearest other cover, which happened to be a fake pillar.

Janus had a small smile on his face as adrenalin rushed through his veins “This is actually kind of...fun”

“Right??? I knew you’d like it!!”

Remus hit his ear a few times and kept blinking rapildy. There was so much sensory stuff going on it was making his skin feel like static. He usually had his headphones with him, but being with his friend was easily making up for the discomfort.

“Seems like a good time for mutiny” Janus suggested while glancing over to the pirate ship.

“Perfect time!”

They ran between covers. Remus was shooting at every single person he saw. Even blue ones. Janus’s gear beeped a few times showing he’d been shot. By the time he’d gotten to the pirate ship his crush was already crawling up the side of it like a rabid spider.

Janus let out a few panting breathes before walking up onto the ship. “Face your doom fuckers!” Remus was yelling while sprinting up to the people on the top of the ship.

A truly epic battle of shouting joking insults and shooting lasers began. No one was paying attention to Janus so he sneaked around them and sat down right at the highest point of the ship. He could see the whole room. Ah yes! This was true power!!! He proceeded to snipe at any little bitch he saw while his crush playfully barked at the other people until they gave up and left the ship.

Remus sat down and leaned his back against Janus’ so he had full sight of the other side of the room. He let out a cackle every time he hit someone. His laugh was like a chainsaw but Jan still adored it.

“This is almost as exciting as getting to plot revenge against people I will never actually hurt” Jan said.

“Indeed. There’s barely any difference between lasers and poison anyway!”

A few minutes went by, just enough so Janus could properly catch his goddamn breathe. before Remus suddenly jumped up on his feet and pulled in Janus’ shirt to get him to move as well.

“C’mon snakey just sitting safely isn’t exciting enough! We gotta jump back into the battlefield! Dive into the ocean of laser and lava!!”

Janus let out a sigh before holding out his hand so his crush could take it and pull him along to wherever he wanted. Which Remus promptly did. They jumped down from the ship and zigzagged across the room while lasers went here and there.

He slid to a stop against a wall. A loud beeping was going off to show it was only 2 minutes left. Remus let go of his friend to cover his ears. He still held up his smile.

“You feeling okay?” Jan asked.

“Mhm” He nodded and moved his hands away from his ears to instead aim at a few people from the red team “We gotta get in a few more points before it ends right”

“Right on it comrade”

They aimed at as many people as possible. Remus seemed a bit out of it but still chuckled when he got in a good hit.

A stranger ran past them. They stumbled against Remus for just a moment. Their hand landed on his lower back but they quickly continued past them to hide behind a cover. 

The sudden push made Remus stumble forward. He froze. The gun hang in the wire connected to his gear. His eyes were wide as he stared down into the floor.

Janus stopped and looked back when he didn’t hear his crush’s laughter anymore. He let go of the gun when he saw the way Remus was holding his hand over his mouth and the way his chest was barely moving.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I...I can’t breathe” Remus let out between gasping breathes for air.

“Is the binder too tight? Ehm is it a sensory overload? What should I-” He rambled out in a panic.

“I can’t....I can’t breathe” Was all he could get out.

“Right. Right...Remus I am going to grab onto your shirt and lead you out of here okay? I won’t do anything more than that”

He waited for his friend to nod before lightly taking ahold of the arm of his shirt and walking through the room to the exit. He didn’t give any of the players running around as much as a chance of accientally touching Remus.

They left the lasertag building and sat down on the sidewalk behind it. Janus let go of his friend and gave him a bit of space. Remus buried his head in his hands while gasping for air.

“Do you need help with-” Janus began.

“I can...I can handle it” Remus interrupted.

His shoulders was shaking and his nails were digging down into his skin. Tears formed in his eyes and he immediately tried to force them away.

“This is so stupid” He mumbled “It was- They barely even touched me- it was an accident- It’s so stupid- so stupid”

“Don’t say that. Sensory overload isn’t anything stupid. It’s not something you can just force away with willpower. All the lights and sound was a bit much for me as well to be honest. So it’s not stupid for you to be overwhelemed either” Janus said in a soothing tone.

The tears kept buldiing up “No. No. It’s so stupid- It happened over a year ago- I should be past it- It’s so stupid”

A cold feeling spread through Janus as he realized it might not only have been a sensory overload but maybe something more close to a flashback. He scooted slightly closer while fiddling with his gloves. He was unsure of how to comfort him.

“I...When....” Janus took a deep breathe “It’s been almost a year since I moved out from my parent’s house...But when I had a window open a few nights ago and the wind suddenly made it slam shut...I...It reminded me so much of doors being slammed shut and....and....So all I could do for the next hours was hide under my blanket with my snake plushie. I knew I was alone in my own apartement...But my body still reacted like I was a teenager”

He stopped to regain his compuser.

“So Remus I promise that whatever you’re reacting to it’s not stupid. Nor is the way you are reacting. I know what’s it like”

Remus looked over at him, his eyes red from crying. “Can I hug you?” He asked with a hoarse voice.

Janus didn’t respond. He simply opened his arms and let Remus cuddle up against his chest. Jan moved his hand up and down his back and and pressed his face into his crush’s fluffy mess of a hair.

They sat in silence for a bit. Every now and then Remus sniffled but he didn’t try to move away. Sometimes Janus mumbled something meaningless but comforting.

Eventually Remus moved back. The tears had dried on his cheeks and his breathing was steady. He stood up and rubbed his palms against his eyes before standing up. Janus did as well.

“You should probably drink some water when you come home. So you don’t get a headache from the crying” He suggested.

“Thanks snakey” Remus let up into a small smile. He suddenly took out his phone and typed something “I ehm...I’m sending my adress to you. I know you’ve already walked me there. but in case you’d forgotten. And in which apartment number I live. I don’t have any job and i don’t sleep much so you can come at like anytime! Just to hang out. If you want!”

“Oh no I would absolutely despise having to spend time with a person I’ve already choosen to spend several very fun hours with”

Remus’ smile moved into a grin “Great! And uh next time we hang out after therapy we can do something you want. I know these past times we’ve done stuff I’m mostly interested so you can choose!”

Butterflies flied around in Janus’ chest “I would love to!”

“Maybe we can invite Remy as well!”

Both of them sighed at the same time “They’re so pretty”

They glanced at each other with blushing cheeks before letting up into laughter and giggling. By the end of it all the bad feelings left by the breakdown we’re gone.

Remus reached out and held Janus’ hand for a moment “Well I shall see you next time! Don’t die!”

He let go and started to walk away, a skip still in his step. “I’ll do my best!” Janus replied.

He stood still with a big goofy grin on his lips and with blush reaching up to his ears. He looked over to you with an excited look on his eyes.

Janus: “Did you see that!? He really does seem to like being with me! Oh I wonder where I’ll take Remy and Remus to hang out. Maybe a museum? Oh and his adress! Exscuse me I am not usually this excited but ahhh I can just go over and hang out?? Whenever I want to??? Should I? I want to! Should I go over to him this weekend? Is that normal? Is that okay?”

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (17) || atz

San looks over your hands gently, turning them over in his. His fingers trace the scrapes your fall on the cobbles have left behind, and he shakes his head in disapproval.

Then he lets your hands rest on the table of the sickbay and picks up a clean cloth with tweezers, soaking it in rum before wiping your hands down with it, removing any small pieces and blood still remaining on them. Your palms sting, but it’s nothing compared to the anguish in your heart.

“What happened?” San murmurs softly as he works on your wound. You remember Seonghwa had mentioned that San was a better healer of the heart than he was of any physical ailment, but the thought of Seonghwa’s once cheerful, smiling face twists at your chest and lungs like a poisonous vine.

The lump in your throat refuses to go away.

“I don’t know.” You reply in all due honesty. Truly, till now you still don’t understand what had happened to the gentle, kind-hearted cook, but you can only piece together what you have guessed from the incident earlier.

Seonghwa was afraid of the gallows.

Yunho has taught you that the brightest smiles can hide the most bitter tears, but you’ve never expected that the man who’d first treated you with such kindness has suffered so much.

San continues staring at you for a while. Then he finally puts down the cloth and whispers to you in a soft, secretive tone.

“Hey, look at this.”

You frown in confusion, but San places a single finger on your torn skin. Closing his eyes, you see his brows furrow in concentration before a tingling feeling starts to blossom across your hand from where San’s fingertip touches yours, warmth chasing the slight sting in your hand away. You feel as if you’ve dunked your hand in a warm bath, the heat emanating from San’s finger too real to be a mere figment of your imagination.

Then it happens.

Fascination washes over you as you stare at your hand in wonderment. The bleeding slows gradually and finally stills, before you watch the skin and damaged tissue steadily knitting itself back together like a spider’s web. In the end, the entire wound closes, leaving the skin of your palm a soft baby pink.

Your mouth falls open.

“Master, did you just-”

“I’ll be teaching you this over the next few days. Remember, don’t ever attempt this without me. It’s potentially fatal if you don’t know how to do it. Do your best to learn it fast.” San’s smile is a little sad, a little forced. Your initial excitement fades at your master’s clear unease. “I get the feeling we might need it.”

Your fingers brush the silver hairpin tucked securely in your belt for good luck. You don’t like the sound of that.

You know what your master is implying, that there will be much conflict happening soon. But you don’t like to admit that it may be coming already. You and your master sit in momentary silence, both preparing yourselves for what may be to come.

“Sanie, Chin Hae.” The two of you turn to the person who’s come knocking on the sickbay’s door. It’s Wooyoung, purple hair rumpled, rouge smeared on his clavicle and dark circles under his eyes from yesterday, but the unusually grim expression on his handsome face shows he isn’t exactly reminiscing happily about night before. “Captain wants to see us in his cabin, now.”

His tone gives no room for argument.

“Got it.” San rises to his feet, his expression neutral. You only know that there’s unease flickering in his eyes from the way his shoulders are tensed. Since you and Mingi have returned from desperately searching the town for Seonghwa, you’ve found out from Wooyoung, who’s just arrived himself with Yeosang, that Seonghwa had dashed up the gangplank in tears, all alone and ignoring the concerned shouts of his crewmates, before locking himself up in the kitchen galley by himself.

Ever since then, Hongjoong and Yeosang, as the most level headed of the lot, have been discussing what to do about this in the captain’s cabin, instructing for no one to enter while the meeting is still underway. Seonghwa might be only one person, but he means a great deal to many of the crew on board and for the whole afternoon, there has been a gloomy air settling over the ship, the deck unnaturally quiet and subdued.

Your mind has been filled with worry for the cook the entire afternoon, but then San brought you down to the sickbay to get away from the stress of it all. The initial concern and panic has worn off a little, but you can still your anxiety lingering at the back of your mind like an itch that can’t be scratched.

“Is Seonghwa-hyung okay?” You ask feebly, gripping the silver hairpin tight as the three of you make your way to the captain’s cabin beneath the quarterdeck. Wooyoung shrugs, mouth drawn into a thin, concerned line.

“I don’t know. Yunho’s with him to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, but...” His voice trails off as you stop outside the captain’s cabin. Wooyoung raps sharply on the door and you hear the captain call ‘come in’ from inside.

San pushes the door open and the three of you crowd into the room. Captain is sitting at the desk, massaging his temples with his fingers as he indicates for Mingi to lock the door behind you three. His blonde hair is falling out of its usual mullet, mussed and uncombed, as if he hasn’t had the time to do anything else this morning. You sit on the bed, sandwiched between Wooyoung and San, while Yeosang and Mingi stand around, looking equally tense and uncomfortable.

All three of them have dark rings around their eyes and grim, troubled looks on their faces. You can’t believe it was barely a night before that you had been drinking together, celebrating your integration into the crew, but this is your present now.

“Chin Hae.” Captain Hongjoong addresses you first and you snap to attention, back straightening as you look at your captain. His face is lined and etched with worry, so painfully obvious you almost wonder if Captain can actually feel Seonghwa’s internal agony and turmoil. “Can you tell us what happened today morning after Mingi left the two of you alone?”

You nod hesitantly. It only happened this morning, so the memory is still fresh in your mind, but the image of Seonghwa’s grief stricken face, how alone the two of you were and worst of all, your inability to do anything, weighs on your mind almost crushingly.

“Mingi-hyung, Seonghwa-hyung and I were shopping in the marketplace for herbs when someone bumped into me and snatched the herbs.” You begin, recalling the event to your mind. “Mingi-hyung said to go around to the town square to cut the thief off, so we did, but then when we reached the town square Seonghwa-hyung saw the hanging and suddenly started panicking and I didn’t know what to do and-”

Wooyoung’s hand is on your shoulder before you even realise that your breathing has started to turn irregular. “Breathe, Chin Hae.” His voice is as commanding as steel, yet as soft as velvet. San nods at you empathetically, rubbing circles into your back as you try to keep your breathing steady.

“I ran over as soon as I heard the bells, but I was too late.” Mingi says grimly, shaking his head, eyes downcast as if he personally blames himself for this happening. “I could have been there. I should have been there.”

Silence.

“I should have known what to do.” You murmur under your breath, a lump forming in your throat. There’s something lingering deep in your chest, you realise. It hurts more than empathy, eats you away from the inside more painfully that jealousy.

Guilt.

“None of this was your fault.” Yeosang says quietly, his voice almost cracking, but he speaks it like it’s a fact and not merely his opinion. “Especially not yours, Mingi.”

“It’s my job!” Mingi almost snarls, a glassiness to his eyes that makes you feel like crying from shame. The two of you were there, you should have protected Seonghwa, kept him safe. “That’s why you assigned me to follow Seonghwa-hyung around whenever we’re in town to keep this from happening, and look what I just did! I left his side for some goddamn cordyceps! As if this could buy back Seonghwa-hyung’s peace of mind!”

He throws the bag of herbs to the ground.

You don’t even realise you’re shaking from barely restrained sobs until San wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a side embrace. He doesn’t speak, knowing no amount of words can change your mind about your failure at this point, but instead giving you the physical comfort you need.

“Mingi, keep your cool. You’re scaring Chin Hae.” Captain’s voice is cold and detached, leaving no room for disobedience. Wooyoung nods in agreement. The captain continues speaking. “And regarding Seonghwa’s problem, Yeosang and I have been discussing whether to do something or not.  A plan, if you will.”

Mingi echoes your thoughts. “Plan?”

The navigator nods, a little jittery but face set in determination. “We’re sailing to Nassau.”

The word means nothing to you, but you can feel Wooyoung and San stiffen. Mingi gapes at his captain, as if he didn’t hear him right the first time.

“What?”

“We’re sailing back to Nassau. We’re going to find the person that got Seonghwa’s family hanged on false charges, and if Seonghwa so wishes, I’m sending him to hell.” Hongjoong elaborates, a little more clearly but his voice as sharp as the edge of his cutlass. “That’s the closure Seonghwa needs.”

The person that got Seonghwa’s family hanged on false charges.

“What if we sail back and Seonghwa-hyung has a relapse just like last time?” Wooyoung interjects nervously, foot tapping impatiently on the floor. But San shakes his head.

“He’s gotten stronger. It’s been six years, after all.”

“How do you know?” Mingi spits back, but your master replies without a trace of doubt in his voice.

“Ever since Chin Hae joined us, he made the choice to sleep below in the main hold instead of in the sick bay in my room.” Your eyes fly open, you’ve just remembered that your bed, the one you sleep in now, used to belong to Seonghwa. You open your mouth to apologise, but you master continues speaking. “He said he didn’t want to rely on my sleeping incense anymore, and that he needs to face his fears. Chin Hae coming was just a catalyst for him to take that first step.”

Your heart clenches in your chest. This whole time, you had no idea…

“I believe that he’s growing stronger.” Yeosang states, nodding his head. “In the past, Seonghwa-hyung wouldn’t sleep without that steak stuffed toy San gave him, but when Chin Hae came, he told me to lock it in strongbox because he was going to be in the hammocks and wouldn’t need it anymore.”

Part of you is honestly struck dumb. The entire time you’d been on ship, Seonghwa-hyung had been trying to turn his life around, and you had no idea at all.

“So there’s that, Mingi and Wooyoung.” Hongjoong ends off the debate smoothly, fixing the pair with piercing stares. “Are you ready to accept the plan now?”

Wooyoung simply sighs while Mingi nods reluctantly in agreement. Then you pipe up nervously.

“Captain…”

Immediately, everyone in the room turns to look at you, and you wish you’d just kept your fat mouth closed. But since everyone’s expectant eyes are already on you, you simply continue to speak your mind.

“Can I… talk to Seonghwa-hyung?”

To your surprise, the captain doesn’t question your request, simply rising to his feet. “It’s no problem at all. I was intending on talking to him myself. Come with me.”

San gives your hand a squeeze and a worried look. Do you want me to come with you?

You shake your head, squeezing it back as you stand up and follow your captain out of the cabin. The two of you walk in silence down to the galley.

“I’m sorry this had to happen the day after you got your name.” He says softly, and you turn to look at your captain. His cheeks are slightly sunken, mouth turned downwards in a worried frown. You’ve never seen your captain so worried, so concerned.

You wonder if he’d do the same for you.

“It’s fine.” You reply quietly, shaking your head as you climb down the stairs to the galley. “Seonghwa-hyung is more important to me than any celebration.”

When the two of you reach the bottom of the stairs, you see Yunho pacing in front of the kitchen door like a caged tiger. He sees you, and your heart almost breaks when you see the lookout’s face drawn with exhaustion and worry.

“Captain. Chin Hae.” He sounds spent, both physically and emotionally, but he straightens up while blinking the weariness from his eyes. “Do you need me for something?”

“Go take a nap, Yunho, you look like you need it.” Captain pats the lookout on the back, but Yunho shakes his head desperately, as if trying to clear his mind.

“But I need to be here.” His protest is weak and worn, like he’s about to keel over any second. The captain shakes his head.

“Chin Hae and I will be here. Don’t worry.” He reassures the taller man and all at once you see Yunho’s shoulders sag from the relief.

“Oh.” Yunho tries hard not to sound too relieved, but he can’t help the yawn that spills from his mouth. “Thanks, cap’n.”

With that, he stumbles past the two of you and staggers up the stairs, out of sight.

“Seonghwa-hyung?” You move to the door, rapping hesitantly on the wood. It’s the first time you’ve ever been denied entry to the kitchens and in your mind’s eye, you see all the happy times the two of you have had together in the galley, the first time he taught you to use a knife, the incident in which you’d nearly burned the kitchen down, the time you’d mastered cooking Seonghwa’s favourite grilled steak. “It’s Chin Hae.”

It’s silent for a moment and you turn to glance at your captain in a panic.

“Hey, Chin Hae.” Finally, you hear Seonghwa’s voice from behind the door, raw from tears and soft with vulnerability. Relief washes over you and you bow your head to hide your tears. “I’m sorry for making you worry about me, Hongjoong-ah.”

“Shut up.” The captain suddenly snaps, his own voice thick. “Don’t ever apologise for worrying me. I want you to tell me all your problems, burden me with everything, share life with me and the crew. We’re a family.”

There’s a soft inhale from behind the door as you slide to sit next to it. “Did we at least get the cordyceps back, Chin Hae?”

You snort through your tears. “Yeah, but Mingi-hyung threw them on the floor earlier.”

A weak chuckle. “Well, we’ll just buy more then. I’ll have to scold that Mingi for wasting all that… They were expensive.”

“Are you okay, Seonghwa-hyung?” You sniff, wiping your tears with your sleeve. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes… I am.” His voice is right there, at the door. “Chin Hae… can I… tell you about Ha Rin?”

Ha Rin.

Captain stiffens next to you, and you glance at him in confusion.

“Of course.” You tell him, trying to stop your nose from running, sitting up a little straighter even though he can’t see you. “I’d be honoured.”

“She was my younger sister.” His voice is soft, lost, far away, reminiscent of the time Jongho and Yunho had been telling you about their pasts. “I lived with her, my parents and my younger brother Hyunjung in Nassau. We ran an eatery by the harbour. Those were some of the happiest days of my life.”

The way he says it, with such yearning, makes jealousy clench around you. You have nothing to look back so fondly on.

“One day, I was at the harbor when one of my friends called me to the town square.”

Something sinks in your chest. You know where this is going.

“The town officials accused my parents of harboring pirates and sentenced my entire family to death at the gallows. And I did nothing but watch as my family were hung before my eyes.”

You recognise the emotion spilling from him, gnawing away at him from within. It’s an immense guilt, all consuming as a tidal wave.

Captain exhales next to you heavily, but he doesn’t look surprised at all by the news. Then you remember Seonghwa-hyung has been a member of the crew for six years now, of course Seonghwa would trust his captain with his past.

“Ha Rin was only nine. Hyunjung was eleven. I was supposed to take care of them, I was supposed to protect them.” He laughs but it sounds brittle and self deprecating, the weight of his failure settling on his shoulders. “And yet… I was the only one who survived.”

You don’t know what to say. Your fingers reach under the door, seeking his warmth on instinct.

There’s a pause.

Then his fingers intertwine with yours, gripping them tight. “I thought I could atone for my failure by taking care of the members on board the ship, but it seem that I’m failing in even that too. I still hear their voices, calling for me to join them every time I close my eyes. Maybe the gods are punishing me for my sins.”

You want to cry, scream, protest that he’s wrong, that he’s the first person who treated you with kindness even when you were tied to the mast, that the crew loved and needed him, but the captain beats you to it.

“You are not failing, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong growls, pressing his forehead against the door, voice raw with emotion. “Every single person on this ship needs you, you hear me? That includes me. Who else is going to cook us food if you’re not there? The whole ship will starve to death.”

It seems like such a small, petty thing to talk about, but Seonghwa manages a small laugh at that. “San was always interested in cooking.”

“Hell no.” The captain wears a fond, sad smile on his face. “We should just leave him to healing. Honestly, I don’t know how we trust him with our injuries. We need you, Seonghwa.”

You nod in agreement although he can’t see and Hongjoong continues to speak. “We’re sailing for Nassau, and we’re going to find the man who got your family hanged. Will you… will you do this with us?”

Seonghwa is silent for a minute. Just when you start to wonder if Hongjoong had asked too much of him, he replies softly.

“You know I’d follow you anywhere… Captain.”

[and-there-were-words]

A Spider Life: Slow days (Chapter 05)

I first wanted to write something out of the Spider Queen’s POV, but struggled to keep it within the narrative I am going for at the moment. I will write something for her after what’s show-canon though. A slow one with some more HCs, but I hope you still enjoy this chapter!

Also “Ask questions” had been enabled, I did not notice they weren’t before /o/

---

Taking place some time before “Minor scale”.

After the last two, rather smooth successes of gathering the artifacts, things had turned… slow. With everyone doing their best to busy themselves, Syntax makes some (for him at least) interesting observations. (Wordcount: around 2150)

---

With the mirror in their possession, the little lady had grown silent while working on the furnace. Aside from that whisper business of course, that had been a constant the last few days. And while nobody wanted to admit it out loud, it put everyone on the edge. Even the Queen.

However, nothing would stop Syntax from working on his spiderbots, even trying to improve the additional arms on his back. Not the easiest thing to do when you don’t have eyes on the back of your head, but making sure they just won’t snap in the heat of a moment felt rather crucial. The additional weight to this upgrade wasn’t exactly a worry to him at all, in the end he wasn’t one of the brawler types.

Something in the air changed, making him halt for a second.

“Yes Huntsman, how can I help you?”, he spoke without needing to look up. The other spider made a frustrated noise at being detected, he had been just mere inches away to give the scientist a poke. With an annoyed huff he turned around to stomp back to Goliath. Syntax would be lying to say if the other's frustration didn't plug on a string of satisfaction. This sort of interactions had been going on for a while now.

Leaning back, just to give his spine a proper stretch, the scientist couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself. Just the progress he had made the last few days was satisfying, and not only the ones on his machines – but himself too. Huntsman had taken a sadistic joy in startling him whenever he could, and he was infuriatingly good at it. Though, Syntax started to pick up on the faint noises the hunter made when stepping on stone, the shuffling of clothes. Eventually he could catch him prior to a scare.

Which only goaded Huntsman to try even harder, becoming more and more silent and careful in his steps. Syntax had taken recordings to measure the changes of skill level (and for his own sanity) – by now, the hunting spider was so silent that even his gadgets could barely pick up the sounds anymore. Certainly a skill Huntsman had all along, but finally seemed to shake off the initial rust after his involuntary slumber. With the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to catch him on that anymore, the scientist tried to focus on other giveaways.

What had started as an obvious attempt on grilling his nerves, developed into a near playful banter. Just the wordless back and forth to get the other to try harder. In an odd way, it almost felt like Huntsman was training him, but he was careful to keep that thought to himself. Syntax knew better than to read too much into the hunter's actions, as chaotic as they were.

Nonetheless, the scientist found himself trying to imitate the hunter now and then. Since the guy was going on about smelling all kind of stuff, he gave it a try himself. At first not picking up much more than the damp air in the cave, the metal of the machines. It took him a while to find stronger differences, trying to casually walk past Goliath and the Queen. He found it rather surprising that they didn't seem to do much to hide their presence, but maybe it was simply the comfort of the cave that allowed them to do so.

Picking up on Huntsman was an entirely different beast. The man always seemingly on guard, always ready to appear and disappear. However with time, the scientist managed to actually pick up on Huntsman’s scent, as faint as it was. Kind of earthy, a little bit mildewed, and Syntax could swear there was the ever lingering hint of fresh blood. Did this guy ever wash that pelt of his?

Of course, he would never claim that his own sense of scent was as powerful as the hunter’s, but it was enough to know who was currently around the cave. The little lady didn't seem to have any telltales like these, which usually would've raised red flags in his mind but… he didn't question it, nobody else did either. Anything else he came in contact with, the scents of the surface… became a mixed blend of too much too quickly. Maybe a task for another time.

Aside from that, scent and hearing weren’t the only senses he had noticed an improvement in! Their lair seemed to have become much less dark, he wasn’t as dependable on his goggles as he used to be anymore. What before had looked like chunky and random bits of webbing, now unveiled themselves as carefully crafted pieces with intriguing patterns, with uses he was still starting to understand. Goliath did his best to explain them in more 'common' terms, and it was always a pleasant surprise to see how excited the large spider became to share his knowledge. The more time Syntax spent within the Silk Web Cave, the more beautiful this place became to him. A pride welling up that he lived here.

However their hideout wasn’t the only thing that was much more layered than he previously thought. Turning around in his seat, he watched the other two henchmen going about their day. Currently sticking their heads together over something he couldn't see from his position. Still, he watched them a little, while he was sorting further observations in his mind.

...to no one’s surprise, when he wasn’t within the lair, Huntsman was hunting. Or at least, somewhere outside doing who knows what for days on end. Yet always coming back with some good pieces of meat, roots and berries (but mainly meat). The first time Syntax saw the hunter preparing food for dinner, he nearly refused to partake in it. Mostly because he couldn’t imagine his meals to taste anything but bland, or worse, be poisoned. Color him surprised, that stew was better than most dishes the Queen would concoct on a daily basis. Another thought Syntax would take to his grave before speaking it out loud.

When Huntsman wasn’t around for dinner, and everyone else felt too lazy to scavenge for some proper food options, Goliath and he would order takeout. The strong spider clearly intrigued by this concept, always wanting to try something new. Syntax often questioned the sanity of the cityfolk, considering that the delivery people didn’t had much care to come down near a spider den. The food from the surface world had something comforting to the scientist, as cheap and artifical as it sometimes was. Though he was really craving noodle soup as of late and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Syntax let out a little sigh while standing up.

This whole food thing had also shown an interesting side on Goliath. While the Queen and Huntsman didn’t seem to particularly care about human food (the latter even openly showing his distaste for it), the strong spider had taken a deep fascination. Especially sweets and candies seemed to have struck his attention the most. More than once did Syntax catch him just trying some new trendy food or colorful jawbreaker that he got from… who knows where. Goliath didn’t make any of this a secret, however he clearly wasn’t one with a rotten sweet-tooth as he barely finished anything. “For science.”, he once said with a wink and didn’t elaborate any further. Okay then.

“What are you two doing?”, Syntax casually asked as he wandered closer to the two. The strong spider looked up in confusion for a second before giving the younger man a smirk, “Secrets”. The scientist blinked owlishly, circling around them to look over the smaller spider’s shoulder. There were parchments of leather, deer if Syntax would have to guess, with Huntsman trying to draw squares and circles. Large black smudges here and there told the story of many previous attempts, letting the edges of the material look almost black by now.

"Get away from me.", the kneeling spider hissed, Syntax complying with an annoyed eye roll. Looking back at the larger man in an unspoken question. "We want to make a new robe for the Queen.", the giant almost beamed with excitement. Only for the big smile to water down in mild disappointment, "Buddy ain't good at designing though."

"If you wouldn't be just so damn picky!", Huntsman shot back, smudging away his latest attempt. "Just let me do what I do best, I know what I am d-"

"No!", Syntax flinched a little in surprise. It wasn't exactly an usual thing for Goliath to argue, or to even interrupt someone. "I want this to be special and you just can't get the patterns right! For the Queen's sake, just follow a plan for once!"

The scientist had to raise a brow. This was the first time he ever saw the two of them actually butting heads and… he had to admit, it was a little bit refreshing. Letting his eyes wander to some other pieces of leather, recognizing the sketches as copies from the patterns all over the cave. This one was a sigil of warding, as he had learned the other day, and a few were the Queen's own emblem. In case some other spider demon decided to come here, they would immediately know who's domain they dared to enter. The rest of those, he had not gotten an explanation yet.

"If I may.", mechanical arms shoved Huntsman unceremoniously to the side. Crouching down to pick up one of the charcoal, he started to draw. He was no expert on how to draw people by any means, but it certainly resembled the queen more than any of Huntsman's attempts. With careful strokes, he designed a fairly simple cut, working in the patterns on how he would think would look good on the Queen. It didn't pass him that the other two were watching with bated breath.

Once done, the scientist sat back on his heels, giving his creation a proper look. Not too shabby, if he may say so himself.

"Oh this is really good, Syntax!", Goliath cheered, looking like he wanted to touch the sketch but didn't dare to. On the other end of the emotional spectrum, Huntsman almost looked like he was about to explode.

"The fuck is your problem.", the elder hissed in dreadful silence, whole body tense and twitching. "What do you think you are!", he now became louder but Syntax did his best to just give him a neutral expression and not to budge. Which may not have been the best idea, as it only agitated the other further. The hunter was now standing, looming over him. "You really think you can just come in here and do whatever?! Think you can just be part of this??"

Large and sharp spider legs lashed out, in reflex Syntax let out a startled cry and raised his arms in an attempt of protection. But the pain didn't come. They hadn't aimed at him, instead… having shred the parchment with the sketches to bits. "I REFUSE TO WEAVE THIS."

Like an angry lion, the hunter had bared his fangs in a snarl. For a moment, Syntax was still prepared to be hit by the other, but the hunter suddenly turned around and just. Left. Goliath looked torn between the two men, mouthing a silent "Sorry" before hurrying after his friend.

A breath he didn't know he was holding, escaped his lungs. Syntax crumbled a bit to the floor, bitter thoughts flooding in. Just when he thought things were doing okay. Of course he had to step right into a sensitive nerve for the older spider. Heavy clicking pulled him out of his thoughts, but he couldn't care at the moment to look presentable before the Queen.

Spider Queen looked between the tired scientist and shredded pieces of leather, no apparent expression showing. But of course there was a glint of recognition in her eyes. "Why y'all causing such a ruckus?" Syntax sighed silently, giving a brief summary of the recent events.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable, the scientist not entirely sure how his Queen would react. To his surprise, she let out a little tired sigh. "Weaving is something quite personal to us. Especially if we do it for someone else.", she explained without really looking back at him. Instead giving the destroyed sketches another glance. "Just pretend this never happened. He'll get over it." With that, she simply left.

Syntax pulled his lips into a frown. Just ignore this all? If Huntsman got over it or not, it did not matter. His fists clenched a little, looking at the floor, choking and holding back bitter tears he could feel burning in hte back of his eyes. Syntax was more upset that he apparently wasn't allowed to be an actual part of this clan, no matter how hard he tried.

[walker-journal]

Hell Can’t Have Us (Adam, Nell, Luce, Bea- POTW)

Characters: Penelope Vural (Spellcaster-Olivia), Lucinda Vural (Spellcaster-Cal), Beatrice Vural (Spellcaster - Finn), Adam Walker (Hunter-Tapir) 

Summary: After finding Nell, Adam, Luce, and Bea try to bring her home. But the even best plans aren’t ready for the Tree. 

Content Warnings: Gun Use, Allusion to Sibling Death, Allusion to Parental Death

They’d managed to find a way out of the poisoned world. It was the bare minimum Nell and Adam could have asked for, not dying via something they couldn’t even see let alone begin to fight against as their bodies had begun to deteriorate. They’d broken free of the realm, but not without its consequences. Nell’s own darkened veins had begun to spider across her skin before they’d found a way out, and her breaths were still shallow and labored, no doubt some form of lasting damage having been dealt to her lungs. Still— at least they’d found a world who’s predators were easier to avoid, even if the attacks had still been numerous. But she’d been right about the hope Adam’s presence provided, had managed to gain back the beginnings of her magic and heal over some of their more dastardly injuries with it. It was still low, but it was there, and that was far better off than she’d been before. Against all odds the smallest shred of optimism had begun to spring in Nell. She didn’t know how she’d thank Adam for all he’d done, for saving her life, but at least she knew she’d have a better chance of even getting the opportunity now that they were together.

They were walking across a seemingly endless, windless, and strangely soundless plain nestled against the side of a raging and amethyst-colored ocean when she felt it, a familiar tug in her gut. For a moment she’d thought it was her reaction to seeing a flipper the size of a skyscraper jut out from the crystalline waves of the water, but it called to her once more, and she knew she’d been right to recognize it. “Adam-” she breathed in apprehension as she reached a hand out to grip his arm, almost daring to call it excitement. “Adam- they’re doing it. They’re using the sigil- I can feel it.” Her sisters were calling her home, their magic as familiar as their voices would be. As if to confirm her words, Nell's childhood and fireproofed necklace began to shudder against Adam’s chest in its place next to the adder stone, the dolorphage bone he’d brought matching its frequency. In answer a rip began to jut out above the endless abyss of this world, a tear in the universe beginning to form no more than a centimeter wide. “Just a little longer. Just a little longer, alright?” She could practically feel Earth’s sweet air already against her skin.

Bea’s hand was cool in hers, but Luce’s magic was warm enough for the two of them. For the three of them, hopefully. This was the fourth large ritual she’d performed in the last year, but no amount of practice and preparation could ever make her feel truly secure in her understanding of how they worked. She had followed Bea’s instructions, uttered the words necessary to guide Adam home, carefully poured her magic into the ritual. Her flames obeyed her, and she thanked the stars and moon for that. If anything happened, if her magic flickered and dimmed and it cost them Nell? She didn’t know how she could live with that. Sweat was rolling down the side of her face as she kept an iron grip on her magic, controlling the flow of power. She couldn’t overload the spell, she couldn’t flood it with power. More power wouldn’t make this easier, wouldn’t make the magic work better-- she needed control, precision.

As she continued to fuel the ritual, Luce gasped as she felt something shift in the magic. A familiar presence. Nell. She could feel her sister’s magic rippling through the ritual, through the portal that was meant to guide her and Adam home. She could feel her. She could feel them both. “That’s them, that’s got to be them.” She said, breathless from the effort.

Bea, admittedly, tended to do ritual magic alone. Most of her necromantic work was best done with only her own magic supplying it, but that didn’t mean she was unfamiliar with group work. Her magic wove with Luce’s easily, their sisterhood, their bloodbond making this work easier than it would be for others. And while this was easier for them than it was for other’s, it was by no means a walk in the park. Tension held Bea’s jaw tight as she focused on how much of her magic she poured into this, she had seen what happened to her sisters and Winston when they hadn’t been careful enough. Her own gasp mirrored Luce’s as she felt the first thread of Nell’s magic join them. Each Vural had a different texture to their magic, each a distinct flavor and color. Bea knew her sisters’ magics, even at its weakest.  “He’s with her then,” After all their preparation, Adam had made it to her. They would get her back.

The eldest Vural dared to look up for a moment, staring at the car that was parked just at the edge of her vision. Nisa sat within there, waiting for her daughter to come tumbling through a portal, waiting to help them again. Bea wished they didn’t need her here. She would have to learn the art of healing to keep them safe. They might have come to an agreement of sorts here but Bea hated having to go back to her in need.

Adam reached up to clasp a hand over Nell’s. Trekking through dimension after dimension would have killed him already if not for coming in prepared with talismans from the Vurals, the best equipment his own family could provide, and cheating with mutant physiology. But wounds, toxins, and exhaustion were making him feel dangerously featherlight as nerves died and fuzzy blurs seemed to crawl across his eyes. Desperation and hope had kept him going past where his body should’ve given out, but borrowed time was running out.

He’d promised Luce he would get Nell to Earth. Adam tried to focus on that instead of the chill slithering through his veins.  

Adam tried to swallow but there was no moisture beyond the sickly taste of his own throat bleeding. “Yeah, just a little bit longer,” he affirmed in a soft rap.

They were close. They were so close, as they stood there waiting for the rift to widen, to just give them a large enough gap to slide through. Nell waited none too patiently, a disbelieving laugh of relief finding it’s way past her lips while she shot Adam a weak and shaky smile. They were gonna make it. Against all the odds in the universe- in the multiple universes they’d trekked through they were going to escape, to be free of this literally hellish existence.

The tear grew longer, stretched far enough that Nell was certain her lithe arm could fit through it. Faster. Faster, it needed to go faster so that they could return to Earth, and Nell could tote herself and Adam straight to her mother’s front door, both of them in desperate need of healing. Leading Adam by the hand she stepped closer to the portal, heart in her throat as a familiar picture came into view on the other side of it. Bea. Luce. Her sisters.

“Adam- I can see them!” The wave of Nell’s relief bubbled into a near desperate cry, the hitch in her breath having nothing to do with her straining lungs this time around. “We did it,” she breathed, and her eyes would have glazed over if her body’d had any water to spare. “You did it,” she turned back towards her hunter, the man who’d earned the title of hero a million times over only to prove once more that she’d been right to fight alongside him since the beginning. He’d deserved to be saved just as he’d saved countless others, to realize in his own time that his life was his to have, not something to be thrown under the knife for humankind or anything else unless he and he alone was making the choice.

But it wouldn’t have been a hellscape if all hell didn’t break loose, and just was Nell was taking her first step through the portal towards the rest of her home with Adam’s hand in her’s, towards her sisters, a crack brok over the plain, the dusty ground splitting into two halves where the portal had touched down. “That’s alright- that’s okay-” Nell began, refusing to let something so little steal this moment from them. “We’ll just-” Her words were eaten by the inhuman screams of something crawling it’s way out of the fissure at their feet, and suddenly the slaugh she’d thought herself free of was appearing over her shoulder.

Luce could practically feel each exhausted, weary step that Nell was taking towards them. But, as she grew closer, she could feel the energy of her little sister’s magic growing stronger and stronger. She was coming home. They were bringing her home. Adam had found her, he was bringing her back. Luce spared a glance through the rift they had created and her blood ran cold. Nell was… dragging Adam. Leading him. Not the other way around. Was something wrong? Had something happened? Maybe it was that brief lapse in focus, maybe it was just the world roiling back against the unnatural state of being connected another dimension. Whatever it was, screams ripped through the air and something dark and cursed slithered from the portal.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Luce shouted. She wanted to let loose the flames and let them burn the portal clean. To purge it of the horrors that lay within. But she couldn’t. She had to hold steady. She had to keep her head and heart clear, to let the magic work. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to lash out at the things that tried to keep her sister from her. But, if she did… the portal could collapse. She couldn’t put them in danger. She couldn’t risk Nell, she couldn’t risk Bea. She couldn’t risk it. “Adam, Nell, get out of there!”

Adam drew the gore-caked remains of once state-of-the-art tactical knives that’d been eroded into rusty shadows of their former selves by the atmosphere and acids of distant worlds. The Hunter slashed out at the Slaugh that’d winked into existence beside Nell, the realization settling in like lead that the only reason why they could see the cadaverous spirits of rotting sinews was the swift approach of death.

They were so close. The vertiginous flicker of hope was almost as painful as the ache of his fading body.

The ground yawned open with a sound like an oil tanker being beached on a reef. The inside of the earth wasn’t soil. Adam looked down into a widening chasm of flesh, complete with oozing subcutaneous layers, cysts of pus, and meaty strands that slithered from one side of the opening of the other. Things stirred into the fissure and began long climbs up its sides, pouring out from hollows in the organic depths like maggots dislodged from a corpse.

At the bottom of the bleeding crevice Adam mistook a pale outcropping with precisely set holes for an enormous skull until he squinted to see a keyhole of bone.

The coral key grew uncomfortably hot against his skin.

Terror crept up Bea’s arms, burrowing her chest before she even had a chance to breathe in. She did not have to reach out with her magic to know what was with Nell and Adam was involved with death. She felt it, as goosebumps broke across her skin, and felt its connection to death. For a moment, she was sure she could control it, if she hadn’t been tethered to the portal. Her eyes darted back to the car and pride threatened to suffocate her, it’s greedy fingers going to drag down the words she needed to say. Bea swallowed and took a deep breath. “Nisa!” They would need her. They needed her. No matter where they were, what they were doing, it seemed that they would always need their mother.

“Mom!” She cried, hoping that the car door would open, praying that her voice carried enough. Death was creeping upon Nell again, Nisa wouldn’t let it take hold, Bea knew this. She wouldn’t let her daughters be taken again.

Nisa could feel the waves of magic coming from her daughters before she heard her eldest’s voice, and despite herself she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride. Her daughters were powerful, a force to be reckoned just as most Vural and Akçam women had been in their primes. There was no doubt about that as they ripped the world apart to save their baby sister. The proud feeling in her chest was accompanied by a spark of happiness to see her daughters working together, restoring themselves to three just as they were always meant to be, but the two positive emotions were stolen from her as she heard Bea’s voice ring out. Something was wrong.

Her car door was ripping open in the blink of an eye, and she strode towards the spell-site, the spitting picture of Beatrice Vural approaching the magic give or take the thirty years that had formed an older and more mature picture of her oldest daughter. Wordlessly, she joined her magic with Lucinda’s and Beatrice’s, sliding in as effortlessly as a puzzle piece slotting into its proper place. “I’m here, sweetie.” She could see Penelope through the portal, could also make out the picture of the man who’d gone into hell for her daughter. Adam Walker. It must be. She’d only ever spoken to him online, but he had the build of a hunter, and the look of one as well despite his ravaged state. The two of them were nearly spent, and with the eye of an experienced healer she didn’t need a slaugh to tell her as much. Their lives were flickering like candles in the wind, leaving her to wonder whether this next gust of air would be the one to blow them out. “Get out, and we’ll deal with whatever comes with you!” she commanded, as if her determination alone could pull them from certain death. She couldn’t heal them until they were here. She’d let Beatrice die while she’d been away, had missed the shattering of her daughter’s life and she wouldn’t be witness to another. She wouldn’t let the Walker boy slip through her hands, either. Not when she hadn’t even gotten to invite him for dinner as of yet.

“Come on! Come we gotta- we gotta go through!” Nell urged desperately while the slaugh hissed away from Adam’s knife, regrouping now that its surprise attack had been foiled. “We can kill it over there! I’ll close the portal and-” And they’d be safe. They’d be sound on the other side, and finally free of this place, finally free to simply exist with each other rather than be forced to fight for their lives. They were so close.

An enormous and spider-like leg clawed its way from the break in the ground, stabbing out in an attempt to impale the couple. It’s aim was true, forcing Nell to separate herself from Adam so that she might make a faulty dodge of the attack. Her bad leg gave out with the move, sending her sprawling to the ground as she scrambled to recover. It wasn’t the practiced and careful movements of the Ring fighter or bounty hunter, but the death throes of a girl desperate to live. Her movements had brought her closer to the portal, with almost a clear shot out...but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t leave after all the times Adam had refused to leave her. Wouldn’t have wanted to when he was as close to being her everything as she’d let a person get. “Please-” And so began the first of her begging. She couldn’t recall a time she’d ever pleaded, having never done it before when it came to her own life, not even as Montgomery had lowered his blade for the kill, but she was more than willing to beg for Adam’s.

Adam carved his way through the giant spider leg but more hungry things scrambled up over the ridge, forcing the Hunter to retreat a few spaces back as he tried to fend off the growing river of chimeric predators separating him from Nell.

A searing heat against his chest made Adam reach beneath the tattered rags of what’d once been his shirt and pulled out a key made of veiny red coral. It was shining so intensely that Adam couldn’t look at it directly. As soon as Adam’s skin had brushed the living coral, the Hunter simply knew that it was responding to the keyhole down there. It wasn't an idea he came up with, but rather an exterior certainty that seemingly dropped into his brain from the key itself.

Adam’s bloodshot brown eyes looked down into the abyss crawling with roiling hordes of demons and then back up to the portal.

Adam had promised to bring Nell back home.

Just a moment longer and this waking nightmare could finally be over. The physical therapy he’d need to recover from slogging through these Hells might take years, but Adam’d retire his blades longer than that if it meant he could just live and love with Nell.

But Adam had also sworn to protect White Crest, to keep Earth safe from the Hellmouths and the hungry things of the void. There was no way they could get this deep into the Hells a second time. Could Adam really pass this by and just let the rifts tear White Crest’s apart?

Adam glanced to the sky where storms of coruscating energy raged with nameless colors that didn’t exist on Earth. Prismatic lightning continuously arched down from the eternal storm. Each blast of primal magic warped the landscape into new bizarre terraforms, raising up mountain ranges of crystal in an instant, blinking gelatinous oceans into being, sowing tropical forests of neon webbing, and even more otherworldly forms of terrain as the entire dimension boiled in a constant state of primordial flux.

Soul deep exhaustion throbbed rawly in Adam’s bones as he longed to scream Fuck You to this final tug of duty, a last command to charge into the valley of death for the sake of people who’d never even know his name.

There was a dark thought that slithered into the back of Adam’s head unbidden. Maybe all the people who’d talked down to him as a delusional zealot and monster might have to finally get their myopic asses off the soapbox when the ravenous hordes of the abyss showed up in their backyard?

Adam snorted at the clumsy attempt at telepathic influence. He spun around and sank both knives deep into a dragonfly-winged nautilus covered in multi-tongued mouths that’d apparently thought Adam was in low enough place to just let his homeworld get invaded out of petulance. “Yeah fuck off nice try,” the Hunter spat before tearing both blades outward in a waterfall of gory purple ichor.

Everyone back home deserved to be safe from this, even if they never knew they’d ever been in danger. That’s what made a true Hunter different, they didn’t make the hard choices so they could get praised in the headlines. A Hunter's reward was newspapers blissfully complaining about trivial things and “just another day” with no idea of how close everything had come to ruin.

Everything in Adam wanted to reject the call to be a Hunter one last time, but how could he live in peace with Nell after denying that safety to everyone else?

“Nell,” Adam said as he lifted up the incandescent key on its string like a lantern, its ruby light answered by a similar glow from the bottom of the swarming demon pit. “I ...have to help close the Rifts in town,” he said slowly, eyes beseeching her understanding as he asked for yet another unfair demand.

“I’m sorry.”

Adam had warned Nell that this day would come. Had made sure the witch had known it well the moment she’d chastised him for being reckless and shoving his arm down the maw of a lamia. So she’d known there was no avoiding it. But even an end that was inevitable was one that could seldom be prepared for. Just because she’d known that his duty might one day claim his life, it didn’t mean facing that day was any easier. This was what she’d agreed to all those months ago. Maybe she’d told herself that they had time to put it off, time to figure out how to prevent this before Adam had to make the choice to forfeit his own life for the ones in White Crest or more. A part of her had always been well aware that it was a silly thought. Adam didn’t solely save people because it was his duty, he did it because it was the right thing to do, because he didn’t know how to turn his back on the people that needed him. She knew it— had known it from the day he’d helped free the tortured souls in the Ring despite half of them being what he’d considered to be monsters. He wouldn’t have been the man she’d grown to love if he’d done anything else as he readied the key.

Nell looked from the glow of the key to the matching light in the depths of the fissure, and things began to click into place. Today was the day. They were out of time. Her bottom lip quivered despite her desire to stay strong, to not make this any harder for Adam than it needed to be, unable to fully muster her iron-clad determination when the hellscape had nearly stripped her of it. “It’s okay, Adam,” she barely managed to say, wondering if he could even hear the words over the whipping winds of the portal and gnashing of the hell-creature’s teeth. “But I’m going with you. I’m not- I can’t let you do it alone.” She knew what it was to lose someone, had learned it intimately when Bea had died, and if there was any single thing she could do to prevent another death she wouldn’t hesitate to take the chance. “Just let me- I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”

So she fought her way back to the side of the drop off, one last surge of adrenaline barely managing to get her to the edge of the crevasse as she hacked through prying tentacles and claws. It looked hungry. That was all she could think as she reached for the fragile magic she’d managed to recharge. Taking his hand in hers she couldn’t help but remember the last time they’d done magic together, sitting under the full moon and wondering what their future would hold after they’d been bitten by the wolf with gold eyes. She used the very tip of her knife to spill what little was left of their precious blood, letting their life run together for another time as she poured pure love and her desperate desire to still have Adam into her spell— letting herself feel the feeble energy of his life- the life that’d been the brighter part of her last year and a half before letting it go.

A glowing thread appeared between their chests, no wider than a hair but refusing to give way as she gave it a hearty tug. “That’ll hold you.” She would hold him as he dived into the depths. There was no more time. The creatures were still tripping over one another in an attempt to have whatever part of delicious human flesh they could manage to get a hold of. Again she found herself saying the words like a prayer, not knowing how to say an actual goodbye. “I love you, Adam.” She was speaking them for only a second time, and even her first declaration of them hadn’t been given in joy so much as desperation, though both utterings of the three words were just as sincere as if they’d been said to him while he was walking through the door after a successful hunt with Nell greeting him back into a home they shared, a dream Nell hadn’t even let herself hope for all that often, but hoped for nonetheless.

She wouldn’t ask him to come back. Not this time.

“No matter what happens,” Adam promised as she wove the binding magic. “I will always love you Nell.” He drew Nell close, drinking the last comfort of her human touch before the predators bearing down forced them to part or get impaled.

Two rusted knives and two pistols with very little ammo left. Adam grimaced at the irony of having first entered the Hells loaded with enough equipment to fight a guerilla war, only to be caught poorly prepared in the final stretch that could’ve used overwhelming firepower the most. World by world, Adam’s state of the art rifles, armor, explosives, and alloyed blades had been eroded and been spent in the toxic alien environments. Until now he was looking down into a chasm full of writhing masses of hungry with armaments he wouldn't even trust on graveyard patrol.

Well, thems the breaks.

Adam looked back at Nell one last time, bruised and bloody face breaking to a sunshine grin as if they were simply flirting across the college commons, just letting her fill his vision and thoughts for every second that Hell allowed.

Time ran out. Adam reloaded his pistols, gripped the lucent key and sprinted towards the great chasm’s edge, launching himself down into the hell pit.

Adam plummeted down into the horde of maws and tendrils like a thunderbolt of bullets and blades, the key’s scarlet brilliance evoking a red comet hurling into a dark sea.

That bright red star seemed to cut a swath through the hungry ocean of oily aberrant things, growing steadily smaller as Adam descended ever deeper into the canyon whose fleshy walls quavered with rasping breaths and bled black ichor. Soon that spotlight of red had become just a distant pinpoint as Adam carved and shot his way too far down into the abyssal murk for sight to follow.

But the tide of otherworldly predators just kept crawling and squirming out of the canyon like a corpse disgorging worms from its rotting meat. The masses slithering over each other in a ravenous frenzy toward the siren call of a mortal soul. The pinprick of ruby light at the canyon’s nadir began to flicker as living tidal waves of eldritch things broke against the perimeter of Adam’s circle of death.

Inch by deadly inch that that red radiance was eclipsed by roiling shadows as the sheer weight of bodies bore down.

The depths darkened as that light snuffed out. There was only the sound of the walls breathing and prismatic cracking overhead.

Minutes dragged until there was a mechanical whisper that was soft, but yet drowned out of the storm with the sound of a key turning in a lock.

The ground shuddered and groaned in tectonic agony as if some colossal machinery had been set in motion. A choir of unearthly shrieks wailed from the pit as a wellspring of vermilion light erupted from the depths. The nameless colors of the storm paled and were downed out in a red dawn that bloomed like a wildfire across the sky.

Nell’s own smile had no choice but to answer Adam’s, doing her best to pretend like he wasn’t diving to his nearly assured death, like they were simply parting for an evening or so, and that she’d see that smile again when he rose from the depths of this final mission. Because after years of fighting for their lives, of fighting to be together, they at least deserved a split moment of pretending like they’d win those fights. That all of this had been for something, and they’d be granted the peace they needed. She held him until the world forced them apart, hell and its compatriots caring little for something as inconsequential and mundanely human as borrowed time. He leapt into the abyss, and a part of Nell went with him, already knowing she’d never get the piece of her that Adam held back. It was hers to give, and his to keep.

Nell saw the flash of red grow so bright that she could barely stand to look at it any longer, but she forced her burning eyes to watch Adam as far as her gaze would go, too afraid to look away, to accept what a part of her already knew was coming. Then it disappeared altogether. There was no seeing him anymore unless she too launched herself into the darkness below, and he was going where she couldn’t follow.

The red broke over the horizon, and the hellbeasts scattered. Nell didn’t see the slaugh anymore. Her lips began to whisper the second half of her spell of their own accord, reeling the line that connected her to Adam in like a fishing wire, wondering if the bait on the end of it had been taken or if…

He came back over the edge with a revolting thump, his body sliding across the dirt like a ragdoll while Nell’s breaths threatened to overtake her, coming fast and shallow. She’d done her best to be brave, done all she could to take this in stride, and she couldn’t lose it now. They still needed to get back to Earth. Adam had to make good one his promise to bring Nell back, too.

In a move that was sickeningly familiar she used her limited magic to bring a blanket into existence before rolling Adam onto it, knowing there was no hope of carrying him. Nell didn’t have enough magic to carry him back. She hadn’t been able to carry Bea, either. But she remembered the way Nic had switched Bea’s tarp for a blanket, something warm and soft and as a last gift. Adam deserved a blanket, too. More than that he’d deserved to live.

The journey to the portal was made of nothing but sheer determination, Nell’s grunts and gasps of pain the soundtrack to their homecoming, Adam’s labored and barely there breathing providing the downbeat. She stumbled through the tear in the world, her back turned on her family as she dragged him along. Familiar arms reached around her, and for a quick moment she thought about pushing them off, some strange part of her thinking that Adam’s last embrace would be erased by this new one, as if it would wash away her last pieces of him.

Nisa’s voice broke through the silence, and with it chaos began anew. “I’ve got you, baby,” the matriarch grunted as she tugged her daughter from the hells, and Nell tugged Adam, and Adam made it all possible by saving Nell in the first place, by saving them all. She laid them alongside one another, her hands already bursting with magic as she hovered over the pair of them, knowing there was only so much she could do.

Nell’s begging began anew, too. She’d tried to convince herself that she was ready for Adam to go, that she was in control of this choice as he was. But no human could ever be truly ready for death. “Please- please mom-” her broken and childlike cries made her shoulders shake. “Please save him, mommy- please.”

Nisa’s hands began work on her daughter, selfishly beginning on Nell’s more fatal injuries as she ignored her daughter’s pleas. “I can’t honey- I can’t- I’m sorry.” Her own voice broke, wondering if this was how Bea had looked when she’d been dying. She wouldn’t let another daughter die. Nell was certain it was one of the only times she’d heard her mother apologize, and she refused to accept it. “No!” she yelled, shifting to place her own hands on Adam’s body that was more blood than flesh. “I’ll do it- I’ll fix it.” She poured her magic into him, knowing too late that she couldn’t do this, couldn’t face the loss of another. The witch pushed past the point of her meager magic reservoir, pouring what little was left of her own life into the hunter.

“Penelope!” Nisa jerked her daughter out of the magic, already knowing how this would pan out if she was allowed to have her way. “You can’t, darling. You can’t save him. He’s gone, honey- there’s not enough life in you or me to save him.” She’d seen it countless times before as a healer, the one’s whose lives were already lost despite the breath they still held.

Nell’s hands came up to cradle her hunter’s face, pressing her forehead to his as she reminded herself that she’d been strong for Adam, that she wanted to make this as painless as possible, let his last moments be the peace he wouldn’t get. “I love him,” she told her mom, told the universe as if she were hoping it might hear her words and take pity. “I love him- I love you.” The world closed in on just her and Adam as the portal faded from existence, as all the portals in town did. “You saved me. You closed the portals- you did it. You can rest. You can rest now, alright?”

The spark of transferred life opened Adam’s eyes. His gaze was unfocused as dark spots and flares of light swam in his vision. They drifted over the Vural family and the familiar signs of Earth. Amongst them were other faces. Whether the dearly departed were merely hallucinations evocative as neural currents ceased or spirits who’d become visible as he teetered at the veil’s edge, Adam was well beyond the point worrying about. His bloodstained lips broke into a smile for Bea, Luce, Winn, James, Celeste, and Nisa.

Everyone was here, Nell assured him. Safe. Finally. 

He tried to thank Bea and Luce for everything they'd done, for treating him like family with their love and power, knowing how much those bonds meant to them. But only a soft sigh could leave his lips and a nod was all Adam could manage to the women who made this final mercy possible.

A tawny-haired man with a killer’s scarred muscularity but gentle brown eyes stepped unseen from among those gathered. He seemed suffused with the pure radiance of the hallowed dead, a single dog-tag hanging from his neck. Uri Walker took a knee beside Nell and his son.

Adam clung to Nell with what feeble strength remained in his shredded body, but pain was giving way to numbness. The agony of anything he’d suffered in the abyss yielded to a sepulchral peace that was worse than the suffering. Adam felt featherlight and his fingers lost the strength to grasp Nell’s hand. All Adam wanted was to stay here with Nell just a little while longer, but the undertow of quietus seemed to be ripping him away from her.

At last Adam looked up into father’s face and mouthed a question to empty air.  

Uri’s answering grin was like a sunset, a moment of radiance that beckoned toward darkness. He nodded. “You did good kid,” he affirmed gently, “mission’s over, everybody’s home.”

Adam nodded to no one and looked back into Nell’s eyes. He drew close with that last flicker of strength in him to whisper in her ear.

They were private words Adam wished he had a lifetime to show Nell day by day, but a moment was all they had.

The departed Hunter placed a firm hand on Adam’s bloody shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Time to go, son.”  

Adam grasped his father’s hand and let himself get pulled up to his feet and into Uri’s embrace.

Adam Walker’s eyes closed.

While Bea was connected to death, she had never seen it up close like this. Experiencing her own had not been as intense in the moment. It had finished in a moment, a glint of metal before she was gone. This was longer, if only by a few moments. Adam had done so much for her and her family in the last year. He had helped her defeat the Fext, yes, but his actions past that were far more impactful. It didn’t take a genius to look at her sister and know she had experienced love. That this man before her would do whatever he could to grant Nell happiness. He had done whatever he did for her sister. Adam Walker in so many ways was an honorable man, but here in this moment, he was the best man she had ever met. He had become something of a younger sibling to her. She looked forward to his messages, as random and strange as they could be. There would be no more messages.

Grief she had found, with herself, was as if someone sold the house they had always lived in and moved away. You could pass by that house everyday, but it would never be the same. You could have memorized every corner and hidden spot in that house, but that did not mean you could access them any longer. All you had were memories of who lived there and a wish that they were back. How would Nell survive that? She had too many people who lost their lives in front of her.

“Mom, Luce, take Nell.” Her voice cracked. “I’ll take care of Adam.” She would make sure he went home. Just like Nell had with her.

The portals had closed, Adam and Nell had returned to the world-- if life was a fairytale, it would have ended there. The monsters having been defeated and portals having been shut, would have thrown in the towel. Her sister would not be clinging to the lifeless body of the young man who had given everything to this undeserving town. Luce would not be watching the light fade from his eyes and his bloodied, weary limbs go limp into that final slumber. If life was a storybook, Adam and Nell would cheat death. They would defy the odds. They would get a cliche happily ever after.

But life in White Crest was no fairytale. And there was no cheating death this time.

Luce sank to her knees next to her sister, joining Nisa at Nell’s side. What could she possibly say? What could she possibly do? If she could have turned back time, if she could have strengthened the enchantments, if she could have created more wards-- If. If. If. But the reality of the world lay in front of her. And there was nothing any of them could do about it. Adam was gone. Adam was dead. The stupid, jock-y frat boy who had done nothing but serve the town, who had done nothing but save the undeserving people of this fucking town, was dead. She put a hand gently on Nell’s shoulder, hoping to provide some… tiny amount of comfort. A reminder that she wasn’t alone. “Nellie, we need to get you healed up. Bea, she’ll take care of him. She’ll be here with him.” She said quietly, her voice as even as she could make it. “I’m sorry, Nell. I’m so sorry.” Her voice broke and she shook her head.

The glowing thread of magic still connecting Nell to the man she loved faded from sight, and with it went Adam. She felt his life wink from existence as their blood magic died, felt whatever soul or spirit that had been inhabiting his body go with it, and she was left with only a body. Adam was gone, and it meant that she didn’t have to hold herself together anymore, she didn’t have to pretend like death was peaceful and beautiful and that the living weren’t left to pick up their broken pieces. “No,” she managed to croak in response to her sisters, the word beginning to turn into a sob. She wouldn’t leave him, couldn’t leave him even when he was no longer here. “It should be me- I want to-” Let her take care of him, let taking care of his loved ones be the last gift she gave to Adam, the last action of love she could make.

“I have to- I’m going to help.” With another ricochet of pain making its way through her chest she realized there was nothing left to fix, nothing to distract her from her new reality. After losing Bea, after getting her back...it had taken Nell more than a year to learn that some things couldn’t be fixed. Some things would always be cracked and broken and surprise you with anger or tears when you least expected it. This would be one of those things. And though the holes the departed left couldn’t be filled, they could at least be managed, and their darkness didn’t diminish the thousand shining lights of the happier memories. “I don’t want to leave him- I can’t.”

Nell wasn’t sure the words were actually discernible through the wetness on her cheeks, the blackness that was also beginning to close in on her own vision. Her mother laid a hand over her eyes, shushing her with quiet words that she couldn’t make out as the blanket of Nisa’s magic wrapped around her, putting her into a sleep that was long overdue. The last thing she saw before the darkness enveloped her was the smile Adam had shot her before he’d dived to his death, blurring into the one he’d given her as they joked and memed outside her greenhouse about semi-satanic rituals, readying to finish the amulet that would be the keystone of their first mission together— the blueprint to everything that would come after.

And so the hero and prodigal son had returned her home, and then gone on to his own.

[arashikitten]

What the Shadows Bring to Light

   Wukong liked to think he had a sixth sense when it came to certain things. In a way, he sort of did, what with the golden eyes and demon sensing capabilities. But he also liked to think that he had a sort of foresight, an ability to know if something was wrong regardless of whether or not he was there if or when something bad happened.

   It was something that had grown even stronger as he started to train Qi Xiaotian, which he attributed to the kid’s almost uncanny ability to stumble upon powerful demons, most of whom hadn’t been seen in well over 300 years. Seriously, the kid’s ability to get into trouble would have almost been something to be respected, if not for the fact that he made it very difficult for Wukong not to leap into battle to help whenever Xiaotian got even a little hurt. Xiaotian needed to learn how to do all of this himself: eventually, he’d need to grow out of the Monkey King’s shadow.

   Which was why he’d been attempting to ignore the overwhelming feeling of wrongness that had been slowly creeping up in the past three months. It had started when his friend, the daughter of one of the dragon families, had called Xiaotian in a panic during his training. Something about a giant monster destroying the city, they needed the kid’s help to stop it, the usual. No reason to be worried.

   But then Wukong got a glimpse of the creature from the kids phone, and suddenly there was a swirl of familiarity mixed with deep seated unease. He knew, knew, that he had seen that creature somewhere before, but every time he tried to remember just who or what it was,he came up blank.

So, he’d let the kid go and fight. An uncharacteristic sense of worry settled in his gut, as if trying to warn him that something, something was wrong. Wukong, for the first time in almost twenty years, was unable to go to sleep that night. Worry and anxiety were a crushing weight on him, his mind wandering down dark paths as he attempted to lull himself to sleep.

This led to him being rather… irritable the next day, snapping at Xiaotian in his sleep deprived state. The look the kid had given him, frustrated and confused and hurt, caused a tidal wave of guilt to crash over him, and he had cringed slightly before offering the kid a bag of peach chips as an attempt at an apology. He’d taken them, and hurt and frustration were replaced with concern that just made Wukong feel even shittier.

At least the kid had been ok.

This tension, this oppressive anxiety, continued for three months, fluctuating in severity. Sometimes, it was barely noticeable, nothing more than a small buzz in the back of his head. Other times, it was thick and heavy, covering him like a weighted blanket, stifling the air from his lungs and making his ears ring. There was an ever present danger, lurking beneath the calm veneer of his training with Xiaotian, and it scared the hell out of Wukong. Something, someone, was after his successor, and Wukong had a feeling that whatever it was, it would be much more powerful than the Demon Bull Fam.

And then, last night, something changed. He’d been jolted out of a restless sort of sleep in a panic, terror and worry and dread suffocating him in the beginning of a panic attack as visions of Xiaotian laying bloodied and burned on the ground flooded his brain, shoving out any thoughts of calm or peace that tried to tell him that his kid was safe, that wasn’t- isn’t real, his kid was alive-

Macaque. Wukong’s blood froze. No. No no no nononono. Macaque was dead. He’d been dead for years, gone like dust in the wind. He’d been there, he’d been the one to do it. He’d seen the light vanish from Macaque’s eyes, heard his final breath.

Macaque was dead.

But even through those self-assurances, even as he replayed the memory on loop in his head, he knew. He knew Macaque was alive and well, that he was still out there, that his kid was in danger-

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the creeping dread lifted. Fear, terror, concern, they all flooded him like a village before a demon, leaving him tired and drained and confused as hell. The dread-feeling, the ever-present anxiety that Wukong had begun to just accept as a part of his life now, just disappeared, poof! Even the low humming, the slight buzzing in the back of his head, was gone, and for the first time in three months, Wukong’s head was quiet.

Wukong sat back on his little cloud, head in his hands as he sighed. He was being ridiculous. Macaque was absolutely, 100% dead. He’d been there, he’d seen it with his own two eyes: Macaque was dead. Gone. Absent from the world of the living. He couldn’t hurt Xiaotian.

His kid was safe.

——————— ——————— ——————— ———————

   The next morning, the kid had shown up to Flower Fruit mountain at exactly 12:30. He seemed happy, bouncing around the cave with his usual boundless energy. There were no injuries that he could see, aside from a small bruise on the kid’s forehead that he got from running into a tree on his way here. The kid was happy and appeared to be fairly relaxed, no hidden worry or fear in his eyes to suggest that anything bad had happened.

   In fact…

   Wukong surreptitiously activated his demon sight. Xiaotian’s aura, which always glowed the same golden color as his own, was way brighter than Wukong could ever remember seeing it. Even when the kid had first lifted the staff, when his aura had first flared out like a small supernova, it hadn’t been as strong as it was now.

   Just what had happened?

   “Hey, Xiaotian. Did anything… particularly strange happen last night? Anything that you can remember?” The kid stopped what he was doing and looked up at Wukong curiously.

   “I… I don’t think so? Why?” Concern overtook curiosity, and Xiaotian blurted out “Did something bad happen? Did someone from the court of Heaven send you a message?! DID-“

   Wukong shoved a peach chip at the kid’s face, effectively shutting him up. Wukong let out a heavy sigh.

   “No, kiddo, it’s nothing like that. It’s just….” Wukong fell silent. That nagging worry, the concern and protectiveness surged back, like the waves at high tide. He didn’t want his so- his successor to freak out, as the young human was prone to doing.

   Wukong closed his eyes and let out a small sigh. He’d have to tell Xiaotian eventually. Better to rip the bandaid off now.

   “You know how I have the ability to see demons? Even when… even when they’re in disguise?” Xiaotian nodded, of course. He was still a massive fan boy, after all.

   “Well… that ability, it’s not just limited to seeing demons in disguise. I can also sense them from miles away, regardless of whether or not they’re in sight. Kind of like- like a um, a spider-sense, if you will.” Xiaotian nodded along, looking fascinated, as Wukong continued.

   “Basically, depending on how close the demon is, how powerful it is, and how malicious it is, I’ll get this sort of… buzzing in the back of my head, or my ears will start to ring. Usually, most demons are barely strong enough to set it off, and even if they are able to, usually they’re too far away for me to notice.” He looked down at Xiaotian and braced himself. This was going to be difficult.

   “The past three months… it’s been going off constantly. And it was… It was loud, way louder than just about any other demon I’ve faced. It… it was strong enough to trigger that little warning in my brain, from… from all the way in the city, I think. For something to trigger it that much, from that far away…” Wukong trailed off at the dawning look of horror on Xiaotian’s face. Shit. Shit. This was not going as planned.

   Xiaotian looked up at him, eyes wide and shining with clear concern and apprehension, and Wukong knew he needed to say something before the kid worked himself into a full-on panic. Now.

   “But then, something… changed, last night. Do you remember, earlier, when I said that one of the things that determines how strong the… the “sense” is, is how malicious the demon or whatever triggering it is? Well… last- last night, the activity, or intent, or, or whatever, it peaked for a bit, before just… vanishing. Completely. I’ve never felt anything like it before, and I was wondering, if you… if you knew anything about it? About why… about what was triggering that demon sense?” But the kid was already shaking his head, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face as he did so. Damn.

   “I don’t think so… I mean, the only demons that have attacked the city in the last three months were some small fry and the Demon Bull fam, and even they’ve been pretty quiet…” Xiaotian trailed off slightly, and worry stewed in Wukong’s gut. Even an hour later, as he waved the kid off, it lingered in the dark corners of his mind, like a poison. Something bad was going to happen, he could feel it.

   And Wukong had a bad feeling that it would have something to do with the vision of Macaque he’d had last night. He could only hope that Xiaotian would stay out of it.

————— ————— ————— ————— —————

   Stupid. He’d been so, so stupid. He’d known, known that something bad was going to happen, and he’d been right in all the wrong ways.

   Wukong had never wanted to be so wrong before. Not like now.

   It had been about three hours after the kid had left Flower Fruit when he’d felt it- that punch to the gut, heart being crushed, no air in his lungs feeling that sent him to his knees, gasping for air that just wouldn’t come as panic drenched him in a massive tidal wave. He’d known, with absolute certainty, that something had happened to Xiaotian, that his kid, his son, was badly hurt, that he needed to be there, he needed to help-

   Wukong couldn’t remember ever flying that fast before. He’d zipped down Flower Fruit Mountain like lightning, rushing over the city to where he knew Xiaotian’s apartment was. He needed to make sure his kid was okay, he needed to protect his boy-

   The scent of blood, warm and metallic and nauseating, overwhelmed him as it was accompanied by smoke and burned flesh. Wukong felt his stomach turn as he leapt off his cloud, ducking into a nearby alley to empty his sensitive stomach. Good Gods, what had happened? What had happened to his successor? His scent was woven in to the blood and burned flesh scent, ripe with terror and pain and oh, Gods, his kid was hurt-

   Wukong rushed out of the alley to see the apartment, and immediately a new, fresh wave of horror overwhelmed him. The front wall of the place had been blasted to smithereens, the rubble littering the sidewalk around him. There were cracks in the pavement beneath his feet, interspersed with dark scorch marks and, to Wukong’s mounting horror, small bloodstains. Small fires still burned all over, stinking of smoke and burning plastic. The human fire department was there, along with police and an ambulance-

   Wukong’s breath hitched. Xiaotian. Xiaotian was in that ambulance, he was sure of it.

   He needed to get in that ambulance. Now. He needed to see, needed to assess how bad the damage was, needed to make sure his boy was alive-

   Wukong rushed back into the alleyway, quietly transforming into a small butterfly, before making his way over to the vehicle. One of the windows, up at the front, was still opened slightly. Good. Wukong slipped in to the driver’s side, and landed on the back of the driver’s chair for a moment. There were two doors leading to the back, both of which were shut. Luckily for Wukong, there were two small, square windows that he could just barely see through.

   What he saw made him sick.

   His apprentice, his successor, his kid, was laying on a stretcher, bandages covering his head, arms, and chest. His jacket and headband had been removed, as had most of his t-shirt, throwing the small parts that hadn’t been bandages yet into stark relief. There were some parts of the skin that were blackened, blood still seeping through the cracked and burned skin. The skin that wasn’t burned, bandaged, or bloodied, was pale and wane, sickly looking, like that of a corpse. Xiaotian’s dark brown hair was a mess, covered still in dust and debris and sticky with blood. An oxygen mask covered the boy’s mouth and nose, and Wukong couldn’t stand to look anymore.

   He flew off of the driver’s chair to land quietly on the floor, curled up slightly in the back corner as he tried to just… process what he’d seen.

   The world had been muted, blurred to him. Darkness creeped at the edges of his vision, everything becoming an indistinct blob of color and shadow. The ringing in his ears reached a new pitch, interspersed with a low, hollow thumping sound that he would later realize was his own beating heart. He heard the sounds of the ambulance starting up as though he were underwater, muted and drowned out by that ever present ringing-thumping in his ears that only seemed to grow louder as he saw, over and over again, visions of Xiaotian happy smile turning into a broken look of terror as fires consumed him, leaving nothing but a burnt husk comprised of only ashes and bones….

   Wukong jolted forward as the ambulance came to a stop. When had they started moving? When had they arrived at the hospital? Wukong couldn’t remember.

   He heard the sounds of the stretcher being moved, heard the sound of wheels on pavement as he flew from his little spot on the floor to the still-open doors of the vehicle, fluttering around as doctors and nurses swarmed his kid. They, along with Wukong, rushed into the hospital, pulling him towards the emergency care center.

   Wukong started lagging behind them. He was too small, his wings wouldn’t beat fast enough, and the Emergency Care doors slammed shut before he could reach them, echoing with all the grim finality of an executioner’s blade.

   Wukong stared unblinkingly at the doors. He felt numb, muddied and blurred and overwhelmed in a way that left him fluttering slowly to the clean, cold white tiles of the hospital floor. Too much. It was all too much. His kid was hurt. His kid was in critical condition. His kid was in pain. He’d seen his kid, just a few hours earlier, healthy and happy and alive on Flower Fruit Mountain, safe and sound and there-

   And now he was hurt. Now he needed an oxygen mask just to breath. Now, he was burnt and bruised and broken, his only kid, his child-

   Wukong’s breath hitched. He was no longer in the hospital. He was no longer transformed. He was in an alleyway right next to the hospital. The sky had grown darker, swirling with pinks and reds and oranges as stars slowly began to make themselves known. Tears were streaming down his face, warm and wet, leaving damp trails in their wake. He was crouching over, hands covering his mouth as quiet sobs shook him to his core. He could see each little crack in the pavement, each small blade of grass that was struggling to come up through the concrete and reach for the sun.

   He hadn’t remembered leaving. He hadn’t remembered transforming back. He hadn’t remembered much of anything, really.

   It scared him, not knowing what had happened.

   It scared him, the possibility of finding out what had happened.

   His kid. His boy. His son. Wukong had known, for a bit know, that he cared about Xiaotian as more than his successor. But this…. Gods, he didn’t even know how to begin to process this.

   Guilt came rushing in. He’d known. He’d known that something bad was going to happen, he’d felt in his very bones that his son was in danger, and he’d foolishly let him go with false comforts that the kid could handle himself, that Xiaotian was strong, that his friends would help him.

   He remembered, now, sealing away Xiaotian invulnerability. What the hell had he been thinking, doing that? Why had he ever, ever thought that was even remotely a good idea?

   And now, Xiaotian was paying dearly for it.

   Whispers began playing in his head, a polyvocal taunt that attacked from all sides. Your fault, they whispered. It’s all your fault. You could’ve been there, you could’ve gone with. You knew something was wrong, yet you waved him away to his doom.

   And just how many times has he had to fight alone? The voices taunted him, as fresh guilt rained down upon him. How many times did he leave training with you to fight some demon on his own? How many times did you let him go? How many times did he get injured because of your negligence?

   Wukong couldn’t breathe under the weight of the voices. He couldn’t hear anything else, he couldn’t see through his tears the setting sun. Your fault, your fault, your fault-

   “WHY??!!” The voice, that all too familiar voice, cut through the whispers like a knife. Wukong felt his blood run cold.

   Macaque.

   Macaque was here. Alive and well.

   Macaque, a dangerous, very much not-dead creature, was near Xiaotian. Xiaotian, who was put into the hospital. Xiaotian, who had severe burns all over his body. Xiaotian, who was either in critical condition or a coma, and as such unable to fight back should Macaque decide to kill him.

   Hell no.

   Wukong stood up. He felt cold, empty. Anger flowed like the stream of a winter river, sharpening his vision to a pin-prick sort of clarity. He saw, clearly, each blade of grass, each window of every building, each little dust particle in the air.

   His ears were deaf to everything but the sound of rushing water (or was it his own blood that he heard?), the silence settling over him like a blanket. He heard nothing, not even that dull ringing that had tormented him through the day. The rushing water, the dull beat of a war drum (or was that his own heart?) stayed, however, a symphony of soon to be bloodshed as Wukong slowly floated up from the sidewalk.

   His golden eyes were empty of everything but cold, clear rage as they landed on the dark form of the Six-eared Macaque, who was on his hands and knees, trembling. Good. That would make the next part all the easier.

   Wukong raised his fist, ready to send Macaque flying. He would not fail Xiaotian again. He would end this, this string of failures, starting here and now with this final blow-

   Only for Macaque to raise his head to the heavens, face twisted in fear and regret and agony and loss, and scream, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TAKE ME INSTEAD??!!? WHY?? Why did- didn’t you…. why didn’t you t-take me in… why didn’t you take me instead? Why……”

   Wukong stepped back in shock as Macaque shook with sobs, his paws clenched against the concrete of the rooftop. Rage was undercut by confusion, then suspicion? Just what was Macaque playing at? Just what was Macaque, who was a certified lone-wolf, who despised any form of bond with another being, doing having a mental breakdown on top of a hospital?

   “Why did…. why did Xiaotian have to be the one to suffer because of my mistakes?” He heard Macaque whisper, and Wukong felt the world disappear out from under him.