#THE DELTA DEATH SIRENS

[onlyhurtforaminute]

SLIMELORD-AMPHIBIA

[bizarrobrain]

"The Delta Death Sirens" by Slimelord - From "The Delta Death Sirens" (2019)

[deluxewhump]

Cam, Alex, Zee: Guilt Rituals

CW: BBU, frat house, bloody nose, marijuana and nicotine, alcoholism mentioned, abuse mentioned, dysfunctional family dynamics mention, multiple whumper household, non sexual intimacy, Cam feels feelings, Alex and Zee do asmr

*Takes place back in the house, Alex’s senior year, Cam’s junior year.

Cameron was smoking less lately, but not out of some noble quest for sobriety. He was actually more convinced than ever that life would be completely unbearable without some sort of chemical buffer.

But there was a huge creeping problem with weed, and it was introspection. He’d switched to another strain, but the problem remained. Every time he’d get high, what should have been a quieter plane of existence slightly above the trench warfare that was his junior year of college turned into a nightmarish mano a mano with himself.

Alcohol was out of the question still. Having an alcoholic parent will ruin certain things for you, most commonly alcohol. He watched his peers get gloriously drunk every weekend with no introspection whatsoever, just shameless extroverted bad behavior, but couldn’t bring himself to touch the stuff. The smell alone made him curdle with disgust. And if he went into it feeling such contempt, such hate, it was surely not going to go anywhere he wanted it to.

But even with weed now, he felt wave after wave of highly specific guilt, overblown and looming beside him like a parade float. It would start with how things ended with his dad, never to be reconciled in death, then bleed into the way he’d treated his mom when she actually reached out to him. Eventually it would spread like the veins of a river delta into all the shit with the boxboy, and Alex, and Dominic.

He could get a hold of himself enough to say fuck Alex and Dominic, for sure, but the guilt about Z2 grew stronger every time, until the pathways in his brain that go to the dank basement of regret and anguish were so well worn it was like he could just slide right down them and end up at the bottom— faster every time. In fact, he’d hit the bottom a while ago and had since started digging.

He tried to asphyxiate it by smoking more, until his hideously loud thoughts melted to nothing and he fell asleep with his throat stuck together and his mouth parched for water, too unwilling to climb back up into consciousness to go get it.

Eventually though, it stayed his hand when he went to smoke. The thoughts were easy enough to keep at bay sober. He was busy with school and work and chapter meetings. Only when he was high did he not have the skill to escape them. He thought longingly of something stronger, but knew he couldn’t fall so far as to indulge in that. It wasn’t that he didn’t know who to ask. It was his resentment for his mother that pushed him away from the siren song of harder drugs, ever since highschool.

So he found himself sober, as on most weeknights now, studying extra for an exam or organizing recruitment workshops with his brothers. Tonight, he talked himself into a small hit. A little hit wouldn’t hurt. He just needed to stop smoking quite so much, his tolerance was too high. One pull would just take the worst of the edge off.

It did, until it didn’t. He abandoned his schoolwork, leaving his weed in the locked drawer of his desk so he wouldn’t be tempted to smoke more, and found himself wandering around the house. They’d implemented a new chore system that was going poorly, and the house was kind of dirty. Not the worst it had ever been, but not as nice as it was when they made Zee do most of the cleaning. That had eventually been voted out, because too many of them felt bad. Not that they were offering to pick up the slack, they just felt bad watching him try to keep up with their sloppiness.

He remembered that vote. Who had suggested it, Alex or Dominic? One of them. He’d voted against the motion, but that wasn’t one of the things that chased him around his own brain at night.

He didn’t realize he was looking for Zee until he found him, sitting on the counter of the bathroom sink holding a wad of toilet paper to his face. He was with Alex, and his nose was bleeding.

Cam paused in the hallway, but not before an old wooden floorboard creaked. Alex looked up into the medicine cabinet mirror and their eyes met. Zee didn’t look to see who it was. He closed his eyes.

“What happened?”

Alex swung the bathroom door wider so he could look at him directly, instead of his reflection. “Why, are you sorry you missed it?”

He was glad for the one hit he’d taken. Even a small chemical buffer was necessary for him to be around Alex Clair. He wasn’t going to get any answers from him, not if he was in a sour mood. But he and Zee had been doing better lately. They had a kind of truce working, only Alex probably didn’t know that. He knew Zee liked Alex better than him, obviously, but he thought maybe their working relationship had come far enough that Alex would see it, despite his near constant self-righteous indignation.

“Z2?” Cam asked, still a full step outside the doorway. “What’s goin’ on?”

Zee opened his eyes and tilted his head down enough to look at him. He grinned almost apologetically under the wad of tissue— alarmingly red in places with bright blood. “Nothing. I think I have allergies or something. Dry sinuses.”

Alex gave Zee a leveling look and Zee returned his gaze to the ceiling to avoid it.

“To the pollen, or Mike and Tyler?” Cam asked

Alex turned his disapproval on him. “The class is missing their clown tonight, huh? Aren’t you usually leading the pack? All the most fucked up incidents I can remember around here were your brainchild. Even before he got here.”

This further confirmed Cam's suspicion that Alex had never liked him, even before they were at odds with the boxboy dilemma. The sting of rejection was familiar. It bothered him less than it used to, but it still added another tally mark somewhere in his head, another scratch in a long line of reasons justifying the nagging disdain he felt for everyone, even the people who are supposed to be his brothers. Supposed to give him a chance.

Alex raised his eyebrows at Cam’s unusual silence. “So, what’s it to you what happened to him this time?”

From his perch on the sink, Zee nudged Alex’s leg with his foot.

“What?” Alex hissed at him, though there was patience right behind the exasperation, a gentleness that did not exist two seconds ago when he was addressing Cam.

“I just wanted to check on you, Zee,” he said, deciding not to answer Alex at all. “Here.” He pushed past Alex and bundled fresh toilet paper into a wad, handing it to Zee. He took the bloodied one from him and threw it in the wastebasket, which was filthy and had not seen a plastic liner in months, if not longer than that.

Zee thanked him with a genuine smile— fleeting and secretive, like he didn’t want Alex to see it but was willing to risk it to make sure Cam did.

He didn’t know if it made it better or worse that Zee had been so receptive to his small changes of heart. It made him feel better on one hand, like if he could repair something as fucked as their relationship to each other he could tell himself it couldn’t have been that bad. On the other hand it made him feel worse. It was that bad. It definitely was. Zee was just short on allies, and possibly a bigger person than he was anyway. He was open to the grudging, embarrassed little kindnesses Cam was willing to offer and was too noble to hold his past actions against him. It made his past behavior look even uglier and smaller.

It made it worse that he’d been so deliberately, calculatedly cruel to him in the first place. Sometimes he wondered if he realized that Z2 was a person at first, and that boxies weren’t all some Frankenstein’s monster, some lobotomized AI in a flesh and blood package. But that wasn’t really true. Of course he knew. Everyone knows, deep down.

“C’mon,” Alex said, and helped Zee hop down off the counter. “You’re good now.”

“Will you do the thing?” Zee asked him.

“Yeah. Hell yeah. I could use it right now, too.”

“Use what?” he asked, following them.

“Get lost.”

“I have a right to know,” he said lamely, though he sort of did. He had pitched in for Zee, Alex had not. Alex was not, as they sometimes put it, a boxboy shareholder.

But Alex and Zee had history together that he and Zee did not. He knew that. Alex had always tried to protect him, sometimes locking him in his room for fourteen hours at a time and not letting anyone take him out. Cam had objected at first, but because Alex was Alex, everyone else just sort of let it ride. Another reason to hate Alex Clair.

“He can come if he’s quiet,” he overheard Zee.

“He’s not gonna be quiet. He’s incapable.”

“Shut up,” he said ineffectually as he followed them to Alex’s room.

Zee went inside first and sat down on the bed. Alex turned and held onto the door, deciding whether to let him in or not. Cam held two fingers up by his chest in a peace sign. “I’m not gonna be a dick, dude.”

He could tell Alex was skeptical, but shrugged and let him inside. Once he was in, they proceeded to completely ignore him. Alex turned off the light and switched on a blue lava lamp, just like the one Cams’s cousin had in his room growing up. Zee sat cross legged on the bed, watching Alex with trusting expectancy as he went to his laptop and started playing some weird ambient shit. He slid a disposable vape and a pencil off the desk into his hand and joined Zee on the bed.

Cam felt awkward standing, and helped himself to Alex’s computer chair. He spread his legs and swiveled back and forth a few inches, affecting casual comfort even though he’d never been in Alex’s room for more than a second, and never with the lights off.

The two of them sat facing each other on the bed. Zee was propped up by pillows behind him and Alex seemed satisfied without, his spine pin straight and his athletic shoulders relaxed.

“Four counts,” he said, hitting the vape and then handing it to Zee. Zee hit it and set it on his knee. Alex started them off on some breathing ritual; in four counts, hold for four, exhale, hold for four, and then begin again. Cam tried to copy them without them catching on, inhaling quietly when they inhaled and waiting for Alex to give the cue to exhale. It was immediately calming, like Alex had reached to the back of his neck and hit an override button in his brain. He didn’t like it.

“You two just come in here and breathe weird?”

“Another word and you’re out,” Alex warned.

He laughed. “Understood.”

“Try it,” Zee whispered, opening his eyes just long enough to glance over at him.

“I’m good,” he answered, but something in Zee’s eyes made him think he already knew he had been, a moment ago.

“Hands first?” Alex asked.

Zee held out his hands palm up and Alex took them in his, a gesture so intimate but casual that it shocked him more than if Alex had slapped their boxboy in the face.

He held each of Zee’s hands in his as if warming them, rubbing over a wide surface area at first, followed by slower, massaging sweeps of his thumbs over the open palms. He spread each finger and rubbed the length of it, rubbing circles on the finger pads and back down over each knuckle til he reached old callouses, all the way to his wrists. He watched with growing agitation as Zee relaxed visibly.

When he decided he was done, Alex turned Zee’s palms down on his plaid comforter and picked the vape off Zee’s knee, hitting it before placing it between Zee’s lips for him. Zee took a drag without bothering to ever open his eyes.

He then picked up the pencil he’d brought from his desk and Cam made a face, wondering what in the fuck he was possibly going to do with a pencil and also feeling the agitation in his lower belly grow into an ache in his chest, a tingling of his scalp.

“Eyes closed,” Alex said gently, though Zee’s eyes were closed already. He meant it as a reminder to keep them closed, Cam knew instinctively. To stay still. He took the pencil and used it to draw along Zee’s face, using the soft pink eraser on his skin. Cam’s breath caught strangely in his chest. It looked gentle as tracing, light and maybe ticklish but also satisfying. He traced slow ovals around Zee’s face, over his cheeks and up to his hairline, down again beneath his chin. Zee breathed serenely, a grin pulling the corners of his mouth now and then. Alex lifted the eraser tip to do four points instead, tapping down oh so gently on his cheeks, forehead, chin, in first a predictable pattern and then an unpredictable one.

He felt soothed by proxy, an even more so than with the rhythmic breathing. Yet he was uncomfortable, almost alarmingly so, because it felt like Alex was the author of it, and he couldn't stand Alex, but watching him with Zee was intoxicating. They’d clearly done this little ritual before. If Zee was in half a trance, Alex seemed to be enjoying himself just as much, eyes low and a small smile on his face as he tapped and traced and tapped. Cam thought he would probably be able to hear his own heartbeat if it wasn’t for that music that was playing in the background. He was grateful for it now.

Alex finally stopped, drawing the eraser tip down the sloping bridge of Zee’s nose a few times before taking the pencil away. He squeezed Zee’s left hand, which seemed to tell Zee it was safe to open his eyes. He looked almost drugged, happy, eyes shining and low.

“I could sleep,” he said to Alex, who nodded.

“Go ahead.”

But he turned those glassy eyes toward him instead, knowing and cunning despite their alleged innocence. “You wanna try it, Cameron?”

“I don’t even know what I just watched.”

“You never did anything like that?” Alex asked, uncrossing his legs and stretching over his left hamstring. “It’s just made-up whatever. But if you add the box breathing, it’s pretty powerful. I had to think of some way to calm him down when he first got here. You guys were relentless. He was in fight or flight constantly. It was really bad.”

Cam set his teeth against the accusation, but didn’t drop his eyes from Alex’s level blue gaze. He knew it was bad. He held out his hand for the vape. Alex gave it to him and he pulled deep, lungs filling with candy flavored nicotine. Almost immediately, he felt the head buzz that came with it.

“You mean you want me to do it to you, Zee?”

Zee was nestled in a pile of Alex’s pillows like a housepet. “If you wanted. Or Alex can show you.”

Cam laughed reflexively. He glanced at Alex, who was giving Zee a funny look. “I’ll pass.”

“Yeah, me too, thanks,” Alex said dryly.

“You sure you’re gonna let me near him with a pencil? Or is that considered a weapon?”

“If he wants you to do it,” Alex shrugged, and handed him the pencil. “Whatever.”

Now that it was actually happening, he felt strange. His heart was pounding lightly, like it always did the first time a girl he’d never had before started getting undressed. It’s Z2, he told himself. Get it together. But it was Alex, too, and he was in their space, doing their weird thing. He sat close to Zee as Alex had and felt awkward that he didn’t have a plan for a preamble, like Alex did with the breathing and the hand thing.

“Wanna hold your hand out first?”

Zee did. He started there but with the pencil, tracing the eraser tip lightly over the lines of his palm. Zee smiled and squirmed on an exhale like it was a lot of sensation, and Cam paused. “No?”

“No, yeah,” Zee said, looking at him more directly than he had in the past, whenever Cam was being antagonistic. “It’s good.”

Cam had a sudden, bright memory of holding a fistful of his reddish brown hair as he buzzed the other half off in the bathroom sink. He continued with the pencil tip, like a feather.

Alex flipped onto his back on his bed, casual and composed as always, belonging everywhere he set foot— never awkward, or disliked, or challenged. He watched the two of them serenely as he hit the yellow vape. “Who knew you could act like a normal human being, Cameron?” was his only snipe. It was said in a quiet enough voice that Cam felt he could let it go unchallenged.

“Close your eyes,” he said, ready to trace Zee’s face.

Zee gave him a steady, head-on glance before doing as he asked.

[p1nkcanoe]

I think the water ghouls are based off different sea creatures. That’s not obscure but I think it’s not just sharks.

I see Rain as based off a spotted Eagle Ray

Dew was an Axolotl (then when he became fire he evolved more into a Salamander)

Mist is an eel (I can’t decide what type)

Delta was a Manta Ray before he became a Quint Ghoul

River is a Lemon Shark

Lake is a Black Tipped Reef Shark

Chain is an angler fish

I LOVE SEA CREATURE GHOULS!!!

ive always been so intrigued by water ghouls that are connected to lake and sea, and i love it even more when they're connected to specific creatures and animals.

axolotls, rays, sharks, ANGLER FISHHHHH!!!

i've never been able to settle whether rain is more sea-like or more lake-like, but i remember someone saying a loooong time ago that rain was sea and dew was lake (please lmk if you know who it was) and that just made so much sense in the way that they explained it. despite that argument, rain has always been a siren to me, a creature in the fog to lure wanderers to their death. i love creepy ghouls, creepy ghouls my beloved.

but you mentioned that mist was an eel, and what about a ribbon eel!?

there's two different types that i think are gorgeous creatures. there's the blue ribbon eel and it looks like rainbow road from mariokart to me, but there's also the ghost ribbon eel and it looks like lace through the water, or even chiffon. and the way they move through the water is mesmerizing, they seriously look like ribbon twirling in the wind :D

(pics of both under the cut because eels are eels and eels are a little gross no matter what)

[raindrop-21]

Day three of @cirrus-ghoulette 's whump month: Homesick

Cw: drowning, suicide, manipulation, hallucination, lmk if i missed any

Dew doesn't know when he started feeling this way. He's been fire for years now, why is he suddenly yearning for the water again? The water, the cool darkness only water ghouls can survive in. Yeah, he's swam, yeah his gills are still semi functional, but it's not the same. It'll never be the same.

He wants to go back to the water, permanently. He knows it'll kill him, but he wants to do it anyway. No he doesn't. He doesn't want to die, but the water calls for him, like a siren calling for a sailor, luring them to their death. Maybe he could talk to Delta, see if Delta deals with the same thoughts he does.

But he doesn't. He doesn't want to bother Delta. Maybe these thoughts will stop.

They didn't. In fact, they got worse every time he saw a deep body of water. The water sings a secret song that only he can seem to hear. It's hypnotic. It infests his mind, takes over his thoughts.

He starts to envy Rain and Mist, how they swim so freely, submerge themselves fully, touch the bottom of the lake. He wants to take their abilities from them, use them to go to the bottom of the lake one last time, but he won't. He loves the water ghouls, he couldn't hurt them like that. But if he dies he's only truly hurting himself right?

That's how he ended up here. By the lake. At four in the morning. Too late for any sibling to be up, too early for any ghoul to be up. Besides the feral ones that act as guards around the ministry at night. They wouldn't pay any attention to him though.

He walks close to the edge of the lake. Should he really do this?

Yes. The water calls to him, Come back to me. Come back home, Droplet.

That's all it takes before he's walking into the water. The water reaches his ankles and the sharp sting of cold hits him, but he tredges on. The water touches his belly button, he's used to the temperature. The water's up to his chin, he has one more chance to go back to the ministry, his “home”, but the water calls again.

Droplet. Return. Embrace your natural element, be reborn as what you truly are.

That's a lie, it's all lies. He won't be reborn, he'll die. But he listens anyway. He takes the final step; he's fully submerged, from head to toe. He can breathe through his gills, but just barely. He continues walking. He breathes through his gills, the remnants of them fluttering as if they never broke in the first place.

As he goes deeper, it gets harder to breathe, the pressure from the water pressing on his lungs. Once he fully reaches the bottom of the lake he feels at peace, but also panicked. He can't breathe, he wants to swim back up, get out of the water, but it's holding him down.

You can't leave Droplet, you've just returned. We won't let you leave. The water hisses at him.

The lack of oxygen in his body makes him hallucinate, see spirits of the water around him, pushing him down to the floor of the lake, making him lay down.

Welcome home, Droplet. The spirits giggle as they hold him down.

As his vision gets blurry he starts to regret this. As much as he loved the water it wasn't his home. His home was the ministry, with his pack, teaching Phantom how to be a menace, sloppy makeout sessions with Swiss, baking in the kitchen with Aurora, having the sweetest sex with Cirrus, spending time with his pack, hell, even being scolded by Copia. He made the wrong choice.

Somehow, even while being underwater, he can feel tears run down his face. He wasn't ready to die, he didn't want to die. There was still so much to do. As he feels his consciousness slip away, he feels something grab his hand. His vision is too blurry for him to see so he lets the hand grab him.

He doesn't know how, but he's on the dirt of the banks of the lake and there's a faceless ghoul next to him.

“It's not your time.” The ghoul whispers before disappearing into the darkness.

[abbatoirablaze]

Surrogate Luna, The End

Word Count:  1.2k

Warnings:  death, descriptions of blood/gore, mutilation. 

“How is the plan coming along?”

“Everything according to plan!” Sam lied, hoping that she would believe him, “Steve…is he-“

“Do not worry about lesser wolves, Wilson,” she said firmly, “I’ve gotten word that they took the bait.  They entered my lands not long ago.  We’ll have free reign of-“

A loud siren started going off and Sharon stopped speaking. 

Sam felt himself pale as her gaze turned towards him and she started to glare. 

“I thought you said everything was going according to plan!” she hissed.

“I-“

“I don’t need excuses,” she growled, pushing past Sam, “we’ll take the Barnes pack, even if they have some notice.  They’re missing their alpha, beta, delta, and other leaders.”

Another howl broke through their ranks, and Sam’s gaze turned towards it. 

The patrol was mainly made up of younger warriors. 

Untested wolves barely out of their pup stages. 

His eyes widened when he saw his elder nephew, eyes wide. 

“Uncle Sam?”

“I will give you all one chance,” Sharon offered, looking at the younger wolves, “surrender here, and let us pass, and we will not kill you.”

A few of the boys looked between each other, unsure of what to do, but it was Sam’s nephew who stepped up, “our allegiance is to our pack.  If you come to harm us or our pack, you’ll have to go through us!”

Sharon scoffed, and one of her lackies stepped forward when she nodded, but Sam stepped in front of him. 

“Sharon…that’s my nephew.”

“We all have choices to make, Wilson…” she said calmly, nodding once more.  Two more wolves pushed past him and started towards the younger warriors, “and he’s made his.”

Bucky could smell the iron of blood even before he’d hit his lands. 

This, he knew, wasn’t from Steve. 

He looked to Clint and Nat and they split off, while he and Yelena held the exhausted alpha between them. 

“We-we stopped…”

“Blood…”

“I smell death,” Steve grunted groggily, “sh-she’s here.”

A few moments later, Clint and Natasha came back, both of them wearing solemn looks.

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

“They’re all dead…eleven in total.  It’s the entire young patrol and Jake…she wiped them out.” Clint admitted.

“They’re all dead?” Yelena asked sadly, knowing that most of them were around her age.

“And two we don’t recognize…guessing they were part of Sharon’s group.”

“Well come on the-“

“That’s not all!” Nat said slowly, putting a hand on Bucky’s chest to stop him from going any further, “there’s someone there…alive.”

“I’ll kill them…who the hell-“

“Sam…he-he’s holding his nephew’s corpse…he might have stumbled onto the scene after the fact.  We-“

In that moment she stopped speaking when she heard the desperately sad howl. 

Steve’s ears perked up, “Sam?”

Nat’s brows furrowed. 

His question came out more like a growl, “Yeah, Sam.  He’s been here since-“

“That son of a bitch betrayed me,” he growled, forcing himself into holding his own weight, “he’s here?”

“He betrayed you?” Yelena asked, “how?”

“Gave up information on Bucky and Cinna…he-shit!” he stopped speaking and fell against a tree, holding his ribs.  Through gritted teeth he pushed himself to the next tree, before falling against it, “I’ll kill that son of a bitch myself.”

“Steve, wait-“

“He’s probably the reason that Sharon’s here!” he hissed, “he’s a traitor!”

Another howl caught the groups attention. 

It wasn’t the howl of desperation or sadness. 

It was a rallying call.

And it sounded much further off than where they were.

“The packhouse!” Clint gasped, looking back to the rest of the group.  The howl occurred again and Bucky recognized it as one of his own wolves.

“Tyson…that’s the call to fall back…” he said nervously.  He looked at Natasha and Yelena, “you two…get Wilson…alive.  He’s going to answer for this…Clint.  Come with me to the pack-“

“I’m going!” Steve gritted. 

Bucky turned his attention to his second mate, “Steve you’re in no condition.”

“I’m going to kill Sam,” he growled, “but first, I’m going to kill that bitch that’s going after our mate, Buck…”

Bucky nodded to Steve, knowing that his wolf would carry him through.  Then he looked to Natasha and Yelena once more, “take Wilson alive.  Barton.  Rogers…we shift, and help take back the packhouse.”

“Yes alpha.”

“Think you can handle it, Rogers?”

“I could do this all day!” he growled, throwing himself into his shift and charging towards the packhouse with a howl of his own.

“Tyson!”

“Alpha…” the man gurgled, while he reached for his alpha.  The blood dripping from the corner of his mouth mingled with the tears that were slipping down his cheeks, “I’m sorry…we tri-“

“Where is my luna?”

Tyson couldn’t answer.  His words were bubbling to his lips, and the blood sputtered out.  Clint put pressure on the man’s stomach to try to calm the bleeding, but it did no use. 

He looked towards the stairs where he’d heard the commotion.

“Is she there?”

“Panic…panic ro-room!” he sputtered between his dying breaths.  He gave a final gasp, and his breathing halted as his head fell backwards.  Bucky looked nervously to Clint.  Steve, was growling, still in his wolf form as he stalked towards the stairs.  He gave Bucky a look, and the alpha knew.

He nodded, “kill everyone that isn’t one of mine!”

With the simple command, Steve raced up the stairs, Clint and Bucky both following. 

When they reached the top, Steve was gone.  In his place was the feral wolf that was screaming for his other mate. 

Blood splattered the halls as Steve’s wolf tore their throats from them. 

Men and women alike screamed, trying to race away from the feral beast. 

And Bucky shifted, barely missing a beat as he was the first in the way of the stairs, ending the lives of any of the wolves who’d managed to get past Steve. 

And when the hallways were silent, the long area covered in a layer of blood and corpses, they made their way to Bucky’s quarters, and the room that he’d built into it as a panic room; a last resort in case of any enemy advances. 

From the hall they could hear the anger as Sharon shrieked. 

The temper tantrum she was throwing in an attempt to get to Cinna. 

But more than that, they could hear Cinna screaming. 

Not from panic over Sharon. 

But because she was in labor.

The men could smell the anxiety in her scent; and how the notes seemed to be too sweet. 

She was giving birth.

“I’LL KILL YOU IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO!” Sharon screamed, using her nails to dig at the heavy metal door. 

A howl stopped her dead in her tracks. 

Steve stood at the entrance. 

Eyes black as pitch.

Fur coated in a layer of blood. 

Teeth shining under the lights. 

“St-Steve.”

Her scent peaked, turning bitter as she saw the alpha she’d left feral and for dead in his own packhouse.   Steve’s wolf snorted and his form contorted into one that was ready to pounce.

And with one shrill scream, her life was ended as Steve Rogers lunged at her and tore her throat out. 

But just as Sharon took her last breath, a new scream came from the other side of the door. 

The scream of a newborn infant. 

And a tear slid down Bucky’s  cheek. 

His son was here.

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Rosemary Kane Species: Spellcaster Occupation: Receptionist at Mother Morta's Nursing Home Age: 36 Years Old Played By: Grace Face Claim: Margot Robbie

"Let them underestimate me- I’ll look hotter than them while I’m surpassing them."

TW: Parental death, misogyny

For twelve generations, the secrets of necromancy were passed down to the eldest sons of the Kane line. A portrait of the first in the family line, Cornelius Kane, had loomed over the mantel in Rosemary’s childhood home. She could remember her youth spent staring up into the face of a long since dead relation, and the torrent of emotions that came with it. Pride, that her family had mastered the most complicated arcane practices, and had gained mastery over death itself in the years since Cornelius had began his endeavor to conquer mortality. Sorrow, that she was, as all her relatives reminded her, the disappointing end to a dynasty. 

Rosemary Kane was the only daughter of the last living son of the Kane name. Years passed and still there were no heirs to the Kane line. Despite the fact, the family was happy enough. After all, there was always the hope that little Rosie could have a little brother one day. Of course, no one had ever dreamed a threat as trivial as a vampire would kill a member of the Kane family, much less turn one. No one ever spoke about that night, and Rosemary had been far too young to remember much of it. But she did remember one night, her father had sent her crying mother off with a strange man, and her mother simply never returned. The truth of her turned mother’s disappearance after leaving with who, years later, she would determine to be a vampire slayer was never explicitly told to her- ladies and their sensitivities seemed to be the excuse not to rehash it. But the death of her mother seemed to be the death of hope for the Kane family’s future.

Unfortunately for Rosemary’s father, and therefore there would be no heir to keep the family tradition, the girl was all but ignored by her family. Rosemary never spoke it aloud but the older she got, the more she hoped that maybe, just maybe, her father would make an exception and teach her. But no matter how hard she tried to ingratiate her father to her, the man simply dismissed her. Upon graduating college, she told her father of her desire to learn- to carry on the family tradition. It didn’t need to die with her- times had changed, and she was just as determined and capable as any son of his would have been. 

She could recall the deafening silence of the moments after she declared her intentions. The crackle of the fire in the hearth, the bitter winter wind screaming outside, and all the while the portrait or Cornelius Kane loomed over her like a foreboding specter.  

It shouldn’t have surprised her to hear no. It shouldn’t have hurt. She’d known her whole life her father was unwilling to compromise for the sake of his own family. So she left her family’s Connecticut home in search of instruction elsewhere. 

To add insult to injury, it was very difficult to find someone to teach her, due to the fact that necromancy was heavily frowned upon in most polite arcane circles. After several years of scrounging what little information she could, she got a name, and place. Aleksander Nowak in Wicked’s Rest, Maine. 

It took a lot of begging and transparency, but at long last, the man agreed to train her. Since then, she’s worked tirelessly to learn as much as she could, if not to prove to the Kane’s that she was more than capable of carrying on the family legacy, then to herself. 

Character Facts:

Personality: Clever, charismatic, perseverant, sociable, tenacious, prideful, impulsive, vain, willful, unethical

She’s a sucker for a good karaoke night. The second Rosemary found out about The Siren’s Song, she became a frequent customer. She’s there at least once every other week.

Her car has a bedazzled license plate frame.

She was the social chair of her university’s chapter of the Delta Psi sorority. While she didn’t attend UMWR, as an alum she’s been known to pop up at philanthropic events to pitch in. She’s also great at party planning due to this experience. 

She almost always has her pink, sticker covered e-reader with her. On her days off, she can often be found cozied up in the corner of A Latte to Love with a dirty chai latte with caramel drizzle and a romance novel.

She lives in a cute little cottage in Oldtown. The crocus lawn, flower garden, and stained glass windows make up for the ghost roommate that enjoys screwing with her electronics at all hours of the night. As a result, she’s fairly nocturnal, and can often be found out and about, enjoying the town’s nightlife. She’s particularly fond of The Raven

While practicing necromancy, it’s become a hobby of hers to make dead rats do the exact choreography of *NSYNC’s Bye Bye Bye. It’s great entertainment for a night in.

[aetheltrythh]

Favourite authors and fics

Some of my favourite authors and fics :-).

Most of it dreamling and most of it is explicit.

Authors

Moorishflower - pretty much everything, but what I like most is:

Beautiful, Strange and New - I am just weak for retired!Morpheus/Hob/Daniel.

Siren AU - I am not much into the gore of it but the story arc is of truly epic proportions.

Softestpunk - pretty much everything

Delta Pavonis

find me in your rhytm - dance, and also incredible worldbuilding for such a short fic

High enough - swordplay!

Divination - shibari!

Some other fics

Death of translation by landwriter- for a linguistically-minded person such as myself, this is a delight.

The Art of weapon-related seduction by Aria - swordplay and archery :-)

Today I bury you in me by thedarklings - this is really really slow burn, but the arc is epic

How longingly by cuubism - this one may seem ordinary but I find it incredibly sexy and gentle

Insatiable by TJ_dragonblade - filthy sexy mess

In general, I love me some D/s undertones, service top Hob, m/m/m threesomes, competence kink, shibari, swordplay, dance, banter and teasing, poetry and other literary references, science references, clever plots, a bit of pillow princess Dream, some of monsterfucking (which is entirely the fault of the Sandman fandom :D ), and romantic filth, and I lots of other stuff (and always finding kinks that I didn't know I had or needed :D ).

If I was a faster writer I would have time to read more fics :D. Alas, I am not.

To conclude, I just want to thank everyone for writing such wonderful stories and smut.

[wander-over-the-words]

BioFluff Week 2023 Fic #7

Title: To Breathe Again.

Prompt: Free Day/Family

Summary: The one where Delta and Sinclair reunite in Dionysus Park.

Characters: Subject Delta, Augustus Sinclair, Stanley Poole; mentions of Father Simon Wales, Little Sisters, Eleanor Lamb, Splicers, Big Sisters, Sofia Lamb, Brigid Tenenbaum, Sander Cohen, Mark Meltzer, Andrew Ryan.

Pairing: Augustus Sinclair/Subject Delta.

Warnings: firearm usage, blood; mentions of death, kidnapping.

Notes: Final submission for this new BioFluff Week! Here’s an answer to the prompt ‘Free Day’! Have some worried-but-sassy Delta reuniting with his bf. Another victim of technical difficulties (ie. my internet has fuckin sucked lately).

Side note: This acts as a prequel to one of my fics from last year’s event, Keeping the Romance Alive, but it’s whatever, ya don’t have to read this to understand that and vice versa.

All material belongs to Irrational Games.

Fic also available on AO3.

…

The only thing Delta wants - and has wanted ever since getting knocked out of the train by Simon Wales - is to reunite with Augustus.

Well, that’s not necessarily true - he wants to see the Little Sisters into their vents safely, and he wants to make sure his journey to Eleanor isn’t impeded any more by this ‘Father’ who had hit him with a torpedo, but reuniting with Augustus and ensuring his safety is very high on the list.

It’s the reason he doesn’t dawdle in Siren Alley as he usually would, only goes off path when he needs supplies or is searching for the Little Sisters of the area, and even those missions are done as fast as possible. The second Augustus had mentioned the train car he’s stuck in is running out of air, Delta had moved quickly, and he doesn’t slow in the Alley. Splicers are killed with one shot or just thrown aside like they are nothing, the Brutes are stabbed with his drill and blended to avoid having to wrestle with them like down in Pauper’s Drop, he makes do with the minimal amount of ADAM when freeing the Little Sisters, and the Big Sister comes sprinting into an array of traps he’d set, to help fend her off. 

Because Augustus needs him, so Delta marches through Siren Alley with barely a hitch in his step.

If anything happens to my Augustus, Delta had thought as Lamb had taunted him at the beginning of his trek, telling him how loyal Father Wales is to Eleanor, like Delta had given a damn, I may be out of mercy for you, ma’am.

He hadn’t cared about Father Wales’s problem with him, he just wants to get back to Augustus, to see him safe, and then to move on to Eleanor. That’s it.

Predictably, Lamb and her army don’t make it particularly easy for him, but he gets down to the church finally, and then he’s only increasing his speed when Augustus’s voice comes through the radio, panting, sucking in every breath he needs to tell Delta that the pump control is in the back, but Delta will need to be ready before he transfers the suction to Dionysus Park because they only have a small amount of time for Delta to safely get there - and then to not worry about him, because he’ll “hang in there”, even when he’s so audibly struggling.

Well, who cares about Delta’s safety? Because Delta doesn’t, so he sprints down the length of the church, neglecting the corpses with their potentially useful supplies, and uses Father Wales’s key to get into the pump control room. Without hesitation, he flips the switch and, desperate to hear if Augustus is okay, he waves a hand in front of his camera and taps at the lens, trying to get Augustus to talk to him, tell him that everything’s okay. But he can’t, because she speaks first.

Of course, Lamb’s interference only continues - by flooding the fucking place.

Many of her own people killed, just to try and taunt one man; he finds it diabolical. When he sees the Splicers praying as the church starts to fill with water, he almost wants to tap their shoulders, tell them to come with him, but he knows they won’t listen, and there isn’t anything he can do for them anyway. He has no spare suits like his to hand out, and he can’t afford to give his helmet over to someone. He can only hope the ocean kills them quickly.

The only saving grace to his tumultuous trek through the flooding pumping station is that Augustus speaks to him, at last, and sounds like he has enough air to tell Delta to get to Dionysus Park, and then - when things seem at their worst - to “Get outta there, kid!”

He nearly makes it before the Alley floods entirely, but then the bulkhead leading out of the junction between the different halves of the Alley won’t open when he approaches it, and it bends against the force of the water on the other side, then it bursts and water is hitting him hard enough to hurt as he’s thrown off of his feet.

But Tenenbaum had been right when she’d said the ocean can’t harm him in this suit, so he finds his footing and gets moving again, marching through the water and passing by the floating bodies and the shark that briefly stops him, if only because he hasn’t seen one in years. 

Lamb is speaking to him, but he ignores her in favour of walking on, to Dionysus Park. 

He gets through the airlock’s doors, coming into an area of Rapture that is infected with coral, sand, rust and barnacles from its time spent underwater, as Augustus tells him.

“Dionysus Park was owned by Sofia Lamb, chief…sort of a private retreat for her social experiments. One night it flooded - killin’ all her guests. Papers said it was ‘cult-related’. Come on up to the train station, let’s rendezvous.”

Augustus sounds a little tired, but he’s alive, and that’s what Delta cares most about.

(Though, he does take a moment to let himself get all giddy - Augustus is so clever, so knowledgeable.)

Like before, Delta is off like a shot, marching through the remains of Lamb’s home like the whole place means nothing to him - because it doesn’t. 

He runs into more of her army, of course, and a new breed of Splicer, one that teleports and leaves rose petal-like fragments in the air. They try to trap him in the entrance to Dionysus Park, or at least be an annoyance to him - they succeed at only the latter, and while they’re off-putting at first, he handles them as he does any other Splicer.

He has no time for the rest of you - Augustus is waiting for him.

Delta walks on, through Cohen’s Collection (has Augustus mentioned a Cohen? He doesn’t think so) and into the room with the carousel, stopping only briefly when he hears a man shouting about his little girl, gunfire and the screeching of a Big Sister, but when he passes through the doors, the room is empty. He looks for the man, but he can’t find him, and he doubts there’s anything he can do now - he’s sorry, he is, but he has to move on.

Fortunately, a reminder of his own goals comes through then.

“Well, the good news is, I’ve located a new train car. But the station’s still locked down, an’ we’re not alone in here…I see a shadow in the security booth. I’ll lay low while you have a gander.”

Delta lets out a gasp, spine suddenly rigid.

Augustus! Augustus is in danger!

Delta breaks into a sprint then, boots thudding through the wet sand and heart pounding in his chest, a burst of a roar escaping his throat. He hopes Augustus has left the radio on, so that whoever it is might hear him and know better than to go near Augustus - Delta will rip them apart if they do - and he gets halfway around the carousel when -

“Well, hello boys,” comes a voice in his ear, giving Delta pause. “The name’s Stan Poole - Rapture Tribune. Quality paper, heh…before the locals stopped readin’ and started findin’, uh, other uses for it. Anyway, I’m, uh, looking to cut a deal, fellas. Come by the train station, I’m here in the booth.”

Stan Poole. Stanley. Delta knows of him - heard some of his tapes on his journey, including one earlier. Journalist. Worked for Augustus for a time, when it came to dealing with Lamb. 

Augustus had told him a bit about Stanley after Delta had found that first tape of his: “Skilled when his word went ta paper, but workin’ alongside Andy an’ myself? Well. I used ta raise spaniels, kid, and lemme tell ya: there was always one pup of the litter who thought his bark was as nasty as his bite, when really, everybody else knew he was the runt.” 

With that in mind, Delta doesn’t think it necessary to quite panic over Augustus’s safety, but…well, he’s been surprised before, and he has no idea if this Stanley might be spliced and have some sort of power, and so he resumes his quick marching through the park.

As it was in Siren Alley, Delta pays next to no mind to any of the Splicers in his way, hitting them with Electro Bolt and batting them aside with his drill for a one-two punch that kills them quickly. He doesn’t stop for supplies - he’ll get those later. The only stop he makes is when he finds one of Eleanor’s presents: a grenade launcher, of all things. He must ask where she gets such items, once they’re reunited; his fatherly instincts are uncomfortable, knowing his girl has been handling such dangerous equipment.

It comes in handy when he opens the door to the station and finds two Splicers attempting to set up a turret; their failure is almost laughable, but he’s too tense to do anything but fire a grenade directly into the centre of them. 

The turret blows up, sending the Splicers flying in different directions, and he doesn’t know if they were dead before or after their bodies crash down onto the sandy floor. Doesn’t particularly care, either - he’s got bigger concerns.

Now that he’s finally in the station, Delta is back to sprinting, all the way down the station’s floor and up the stairs. He sees Stanley’s silhouette in the window of the security booth, but he pays it no mind as he throws the grenade launcher off of his shoulder, where it lands with a thud down on the platform, and approaches the window of the train. Pressing his hands against it, he tries to peer through the murky glass, but he can’t see anything. 

He knocks once, then lets out a note of whalesong, his designated noise for when he wants Augustus’s attention or when they’ve been separated and Delta’s trying to find him. 

Delta doesn’t know if the glass is opaque with dirt on the other side too or if Augustus was just about to respond because there comes knocking to his right, a fist against glass, and then his radio is whirring in his helmet.

“Hey,” Stanley says. “You forgettin’ someone already? Move over here, pal.”

Annoyed by the distraction, Delta’s fingers curl into fists against the window and he tilts himself just so, looking at Stanley through the limited peripheral vision he has. He growls angrily at the man and sees him look at Delta with fear as he backs away from the booth’s window.

Still, Stanley won’t leave him be until they’ve spoken, clearly, so he begrudgingly leaves the window and goes stomping over to the booth, staring at Stanley silently with his fists squeezed shut.

Stanley is clearly still frightened of him because he hesitates to speak, staring at Delta like Delta will burst through the window and drag Stanley out. When Delta doesn’t do that, Stanley slowly lifts the radio to his mouth.

“Okay. So dead men tell no tales, right? Wrong. See, with ADAM involved, every stiff’s got a story - and Lamb knows how to read it. If that stuff makes it back to her, I’m an obituary. So I want you to take the story of Dionysus Park…and bury it. Get rid of the Little Sisters for me…your way. Do that, and I���ll unlock the station here, heh. Scout’s honour.”

Delta has a feeling this man was never a scout.

He glares at Stanley from beneath his glass, shoulders tense with irritation. 

Is it not bad enough that his love had recently nearly died and that he’s still got a daughter to rescue? That he nearly got washed out into the ocean and couldn’t save a man from being kidnapped? Does he really have the time or patience for Stanley Poole right now?

The answer is no, but he recognises he might not have much of a choice here, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit curious as to why Stanley needs that ADAM so badly.

Still, he would have some choice words for Stanley if he’d had the tongue and vocal cords to speak them with - but any thought on what he’d say is quickly dashed when his attention is snatched away, as there is the sound of the train’s door swishing open behind him.

A little gasp escaping him, Delta straightens in surprise, then whips around to have a look.

“Well,” Augustus says, standing in the doorway to the train car, casting a displeased glare Stanley’s way out of the corner of his eye, “I’d say ‘he’s hiding something’ - but he sort o’ took the fun outta that one.”

He comes sauntering out of the train, out onto the platform, hands on his hips as he turns to face Delta and Stanley properly.

“He’s locked in the security booth, however - so we’ll hafta play along. Let’s go find those Sis -”

In an instant, a yell of whalesong is shot out of Delta’s throat, putting a stop to Augustus’s little quip, and Augustus is doing his own jump of shock, his casual tone and disgruntled expression both dropping as he gawks up at Delta. 

Delta hadn’t even meant to interrupt him or scare him like that, but seeing Augustus standing before him - actually seeing him and knowing that they’re together again, back in the same room, in each other’s presence - has all those feelings of worry and anxiety over Augustus’s condition rushing back to him, accompanied by the sudden relief of seeing his love apparently safe and sound (safe and sound enough, at least, to make a sarcastic comment like that), and it’s all too much for him to stay standing around as he is.

Quick as a flash, Delta spins on his heel and goes running over to Augustus to close the gap between them, arms outstretched towards him, and he doesn’t blame Augustus in the slightest for the way his face pales and the step he takes backwards, the way he holds out a hand to tell Delta to wait; fond of each other as they may be, Delta is still a massive hulk of a man and the kind of creature Augustus has avoided for his entire time in Rapture, so he understands it may be scary, watching one come running for you. 

Much as he wants to sweep Augustus off of his feet and twirl him around bridal-style in his arms, he knows Augustus wouldn’t like that, especially not with how fast Delta is moving - would probably give the poor guy whiplash - so Delta reigns in his desires and puts to work his self-control. 

Instead of picking Augustus up, Delta goes down to his level: he throws himself to his knees in front of him and pulls Augustus into an embrace. 

He perhaps puts a little too much strength into it because Augustus comes stumbling forward and hits his body with a choked “Oof!”, arms awkwardly half-closing around Delta’s body, to both gain purchase and to return his hug. Delta’s holding him close enough and tight enough that his feet are coming off the floor, if only slightly.

It’s hearing Augustus make a noise like that that reminds Delta of what he is: a being who is very capable of squashing Augustus like a grape if he were so inclined, and he is most certainly not inclined, so - with a gasp - he lets up on his hugging. 

He unwinds his arms from around Augustus and takes him by the shoulders; in his frantic worry, he’s accidentally a little too rough again when it comes to pushing Augustus away from him and probably ends up making his head spin, which has him gasping all over again. Guilty, he removes his hands from Augustus’s person altogether and backs off, lest he do anymore damage, but then his earlier panic over Augustus’s health is back full-force and he shuffles forwards on his knees, hands flying at Augustus again.

He uses a finger to rapidly tap at Augustus’s chest, trying to communicate questions in his haste. He doesn’t even wait for answers - he goes grabbing at Augustus’s arms then, one at a time, checking them for wounds and turning Augustus’s hands over in his own, then he grabs at his shoulders again and brings him forward so that Delta can have a look at his face, checking his eyes and the colour of his skin for any lingering signs of suffocation, before he goes back to poking at him.

Delta’s trying to ask if he’s okay, if he needs first aid or pain relief or bandages, Delta can run and get him whatever he needs, and he wants to know if something happened while he was gone, he points towards Stanley to ask if he did something to Augustus or not - but on the outside, Delta’s hands are speedily flying about, poking at Augustus’s body, moving too quickly to be communicating anything but Delta’s mood as he’s too caught up in concern to eloquently think of how to better phrase things with his hands.

Augustus must finally have enough because his hands come up, palms facing Delta to tell him to stop, and he takes a step back to discourage Delta from manhandling him anymore.

“Enough, kid, stop! Just - take it easy now!” he exclaims, which finally gets Delta to stop. 

With Delta no longer pulling him around, Augustus lays a hand over his heart, huffing a breath. 

“You must be seein’ me as a pin cushion, kid, way you were pokin’ holes in me like that,” he says. “Usually, I’d make some sorta speech remindin’ you that I value my personal space, but somethin’ tells me it’s not really needed here, if this really was a moment of madness on your part. Now, what’re you makin’ a meal of, kid?”

Delta thinks it’s obvious, but perhaps his frantic prodding had been even less affective at communication than he’d thought. To drive his point home, Delta forces himself to slow down as he takes Augustus’s shoulder in one hand and uses his other hand to pointedly tap at Augustus’s chest, over his lungs.

Now that Augustus has the time to think, he can finally understand what Delta means, and given what had happened earlier, he doesn’t need very long.

“Ah,” Augustus’s head bobs with understanding, his expression softening and one hand coming up to pat at the back of Delta’s reassuringly, “I see it now. I’m alright, chief. Got all the precious oxygen a fella could ever request, thanks to you. Only thing takin’ my breath away as of late,” he cracks a grin, “was you, jus’ then.”

He’s joking, but reminding Delta of how he’d just carelessly squeezed Augustus like that - so soon after Augustus has nearly suffocated to death - has Delta feeling ashamed, and his body language seizes up oh-so tellingly as he removes his hands from Augustus again and goes shuffling back.

Augustus’s face falls and he holds up a hand.

“Oh, now, don’t let that eat you up, pumpkin. You didn’t mean any harm, an’ I know that.”

Augustus steps forward and reaches out to take Delta’s nervously fiddling hands in his own.

“You just let your worries take over a little, that’s all. Concerned about little ol’ me back here?” 

Delta gives him a noise of confirmation; forgiven as he may be, Delta still feels guilty, so this time, he doesn’t pull Augustus into an embrace, but rather just offers one, holding out his arms for him.

Augustus cocks his head with a smile and a soft “D’aw,” as he accepts Delta’s offer and meets him halfway, pressing his body to Delta’s and wrapping his arms the best he can around the bottom of Delta’s helmet, in lieu of hugging his neck.

It’s now with great care that Delta pulls Augustus back to him. He holds him as gently but as protectively as he dares, one arm crossed over Augustus’s shoulder blades while the other is around his waist. 

It’s times like these that he wishes he wasn’t so big and didn’t have this helmet encasing his head, as he’d be able to lean down and press his head to Augustus’s chest and hear his heartbeat and be encompassed in Augustus’s arms for once instead of Augustus in his (not that he dislikes that - in fact, he very much enjoys being bigger than his partner, he just wishes he had the opportunity to be held). 

That’s something he fantasises about a lot: he and Augustus laying together - on a couch or a bed, it changes with every imagining - with his head on Augustus’s chest, listening to his love’s heartbeat. He can’t wait until that’s possible.

“Oh, but - now,” Augustus says, pulling back from the hug and placing his hands against Delta’s chest, “what about you, kid? Are you alright? I was watchin’ you back in the Alley, I saw you takin’ on those Brutes an’ that Big Sister. Daniel gave you the rigamarole back there, and even the good Padre didn’t make it easy - for a man of the cloth, he gave you one helluva brawl. And then there was that flood…”

He sighs.

“A lesser man would’ve been eaten alive by Rapture after all that, kid. And - lookit, you…”

Augustus looks down at Delta’s suit.

“All you gotta show for it is the parts of the ocean you’re carryin’ around, all soaked ta the bone.”

Delta hadn’t thought of that; he can see where the water from his suit has wetted Augustus’s shirt (fortunately, he appears to have an undershirt on, so nobody will be getting a view of his chest through the wet patches - not that Delta would complain, of course) and goes to move backwards, to stop himself from making it worse, only for Augustus to stop him with hands on his shoulders.

“No, no, no,” he mutters, “don’t you go away, now.”

Delta lets himself be pulled back in, warbling softly as his heart warms at Augustus’s gentle tone.

Augustus pulls his hand off of Delta’s shoulder, only to look down at it, brow furrowed.

Delta follows his gaze and sees the blood smeared over Augustus’s fingers and palm, perfect for painting a handprint. 

Augustus looks at him from under his eyelashes as he carefully asks, “That…doesn’t belong ta you, does it, sport?”

Delta grunts in the negative. His shoulder doesn’t hurt and his ADAM would’ve sealed his wounds anyway - it must belong to one of the Splicers he’s killed on his way here, or maybe several of them.

Augustus bobs his head in a couple of nods as he pulls out his handkerchief from his pocket and tries wiping his hand clean, leaving a faint red hue behind.

“Good,” he says, “then I can forget I ever saw it.”

After cleaning his hand the best he can, he stuffs his handkerchief into his pocket and looks back to Delta’s covered face, smiling.

“Ain’t nothin’ to fret over now, chief. I’m as fit as a fiddle - if a little hungry - and you’re still the top dog walkin’ the halls.”

He rests his hands on Delta’s chest again. 

“Everything’s alright now.”

Delta croons, happy, and gently cups Augustus’s cheeks in his hands, which turns into cupping his whole head and part of his neck, considering Delta’s huge mitts, but Augustus doesn’t seem to mind, so Delta continues with his plan of carefully pressing the top of his porthole to Augustus’s hairline, the closest he can get to touching foreheads with him.

Augustus’s eyes sparkle as he looks at Delta lovingly, his smile stretched wide enough to make a crinkle under his eyes, and he leans in to push his head against Delta’s, eyes closing peacefully. 

They stay like that for a good few, long moments, before Delta’s carefully bringing Augustus back in for another hug, which Augustus gladly reciprocates the best he can, resting his head on Delta’s clean shoulder and breathing out a calm sigh through his nose, eyes still closed.

They keep that way in silence, just basking in the feeling of being together again; neither ever feel safer than now, at each other’s side in this underwater hellhole, the only people outside of Delta’s dear daughter that they can rely on. Their bond’s stronger than anything Rapture can throw at them, they know that for sure, and they’re going to do everything they can to make sure they’re not separated again. 

Delta, in particular, feels as though he can finally breathe again, now that he knows for certain that Augustus is safe. He’ll do anything and everything he can to ensure that he remains that way, now that he’s back in his arms. Delta has a duty to Eleanor, but he chooses to extend his duty to Augustus too; they’re both the loves of his life, if in vastly different ways. 

Delta’s not sure how long they stay like that for, but he knows how it ends: when there comes a knocking behind him, fist against glass, and his radio whirs in his helmet.

“Hate to break up this -” Stanley huffs a derisive laugh, which makes Delta’s blood boil “- gaga fest and all, but you forgettin’ again that you got a job to do? Or don’t you want the train to get movin’? Now, find those little ghouls and make ‘em gone!”

Delta releases and draws back from Augustus with a growl, then whips around to look at Stanley, getting to one knee as he turns, and gives a short burst of a roar in his direction, fists squeezing shut and shoulders hunched, hackles raised.

He’s just come down from the adrenaline rush of panicking over Augustus’s condition and was enjoying his time with him, and this runt thinks he gets to order them around like this, with that tone of voice?

Delta is his own man now - he takes orders from no one.

He rises to his feet, still growling at Stanley warningly, watching Stanley as he scrambles back from the window, wide-eyed and scared.

“Okay, okay! I get it, I get it! You do you, pal - or Sinclair - or - or whatever! Do whatever you want, I can’t stop ya, heh! You wanna keep doin’ that, you go ahead!”

Delta oh-so wishes he could speak so that he can give Stanley a piece of his mind and he’s tempted to try to communicate with him as he does with Augustus, but any attempt he could make is stopped when there’s a hand on his arm and he turns to look at Augustus.

“Hate to agree with a fella like that, honey,” Augustus says, “but he does have a point. We’d better get movin’ on if we wanna find those Little Sisters he’s after, as well as gettin’ you down to young Eleanor.”

Delta sighs, displeased, even as he knows Augustus is right.

Augustus barks a laugh and cocks his head, arching a brow as he takes Delta’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Aw, sugar - we got all the time in the world to cosy up with each other, but later. For now, we’ve gotta get our dear iron horse to gallop.”

Shoulders lifting in excitement, Delta croons; he loves it when he and Augustus are on the same page. 

With a huff, Delta looks back at Stanley, squaring his shoulders again to let Stanley know he’s still annoyed with him. He stares for several long seconds, then gives him a dismissive, scolding huff before he turns away from the window.

He picks up the grenade launcher Eleanor had left him and hoists it up onto his shoulder, and the sight of it has Augustus letting out a long note of a whistle, impressed.

“Now, there’s somethin’ that’ll have folks singin’ out their swansongs,” Augustus says. “Smart idea, chief, takin’ that along.”

Delta doesn’t bother trying to communicate that it was Eleanor who left it for him, just gestures for Augustus to follow as he leads the way down the stairs and towards the station’s gates. 

As they start to leave the station proper, they catch sight of a figure, which has Augustus gasping at his side, but then the figure dissipates into those rose petal-like fragments and there’re invisible footsteps running through the puddles leading out into the park.

“Damn,” Augustus mutters as he pulls his gun from its holster, then looks up at Delta. “Keep those eyes of yours peeled, chief - there’re Houdini Splicers lurkin’ around, the most difficult Splicer ta get a pin in.”

Houdini Splicers, huh? Creative, but Delta doesn’t fear them.

The only thing he fears right now is losing Augustus again, and so he plants his free hand against Augustus’s chest and gently pushes him, to stand behind Delta. Then he shows Augustus his palm and wafts it in the air at him.

Stay behind me. Safe there.

With a smile, Augustus nods and tells him, “Oh, I hear ya, pumpkin, loud an’ clear.”

Delta grunts in place of nodding at him, then straightens the grenade launcher on his shoulder as he steps forward and peers around the direction the Splicer had fled in. He sees no sign of them, so he gestures again for Augustus to follow him.

With that, the two of them venture into Dionysus Park, together.

[lucascecil]

Seventh Doctor - Project: Blue Box

TV Stories

◆ Time and the Rani

◆ Paradise Towers

◆ Delta and the Bannerman

◆  Dragonfire

◆ Remembrance of the Daleks

◆ The Hapiness Patrol

◆ Silver Nemesis

◆ The Greatest Show in the Galaxy

◆ Battlefield

◆ Ghost Light

◆ The Curse of Fenric

◆ Survival

Audio Adventures

- 7th Doctor Adventures

◆ Last of the Titans

◆ Return of the Daleks

◆ Dominion

◆ The Trial of a Time Machine

◆ Vanguard

◆ The Jabari Countdown

◆ The Dread of Night

◆ Bad Day in Tinseltown

◆ The Ribos Inheritance

◆ London Orbital

◆ Scream of the Daleks

◆ Operation Dusk

◆ Naomi’s Ark

- Main Range

◆ Unregenerate!

◆ Bang-Bang-a-Boom

◆ Flip-Flop

◆ The Fires of Vulcan

◆ Red

◆ We Are the Daleks

◆ The Warehouse

◆ Terror of the Sontarans

◆ 1963: The Assassination Games

◆ The Defectors

◆ The Sirens of Time

◆ The Genocide Machine

◆ The Grey Man of the Mountain - ★★★☆☆

◆ The Fearmonger - ★★★★☆

The Fearmonger is a story with a lot of say about the social politic scenario it was made and that uses of its themes to work perfectly with the regulars and their relationship - that brings them closer by putting the trust Ace and Seven have in each on check. A good start for their ternure in audio.

Complete review: here.

◆ Dust Breeding

◆ Colditz - ★★★☆☆

◆ The Rapture

◆ The Shadow of the Scourge

◆ The Dark Flame

◆ The Harvest

◆ Dreamtime

◆ LIVE 34

◆ Night Thoughts

◆ No Man’s Land

◆ Nocturne

◆ The Dark Husband

◆ Forty-Five

◆ Shadow Planet/World Apart

◆ Muse of Fire

◆ The Flying Dutchman/Displaced

◆ The Magic Mousetrap

◆ Enemy of the World

◆ The Angel of Scutari

◆ Project: Destiny

◆ A Death in the Family

◆ Lurkers at Sunlight’s Edge

◆ Protect and Survive

◆ Robophobia

◆ The Doomsday Quatrain

◆ House of Blue Fire

◆ Black and White

◆ Gods and Monsters

◆ Afterlife

◆ Revenge of the Swarm

◆ Mask of Tragedy

◆ Signs and Wonders

◆ You Are the Doctor and Other Stories

◆ A Life of Crime

◆ Fiesta of the Damned

◆ Maker of Demons

◆ The High Price of Parking

◆ The Blood Furnace

◆ The Silurian Candidate

◆ Red Planets

◆ The Dispossessed

◆ The Quantum Possibility Engine

◆ Project: Lazarus

◆ Master

◆ Valhalla

◆ Frozen Time

◆ The Death Collectors/Spider’s Shadow

◆ Kingdom of Silver/Keepsake

◆ A Thousand Tiny Wings

◆ Klein’s Story/Survival of the Fittest

◆ The Architects of History

◆ The Shadow Heart

◆ The Psychic Circus

◆ The Monsters of Gokroth

◆ The Moons of Vulpana

◆ An Alien Werewolf in London

◆ Persuasion

◆ Starlight Robbery

◆ Daleks Among Us

◆ The Two Masters

◆ Warlock’s Cross

◆ Subterfuge

◆ The End of the Beginning

◆ Dark Universe

- The Companion Chronicles

◆ Bernice Summerfield and the Criminal Code

◆ The Prisoner’s Dilemma

◆ Project: Nirvana

- The Lost Stories

◆ Thin Ice

◆ Crime of the Century

◆ Animal

◆ Earth Aid

- Classic Doctor, New Mosnters

◆ Harvest of the Sycorax

- Short Trips

◆ The Devil’s Footprints

◆ Dark Convoy

◆ Doctors and Dragons

◆ The Riparian Ripper

◆ Inside Story

◆ The Shadow Trader

◆ Crystal Ball

◆ The Shrine of Sorrows

◆ Dead Woman Walking

◆ Critical Mass

◆ Washington Burns

◆ Forever Fallen

◆ Police and Shreeves

◆ The Hesitation Deviation

◆ Twilight’s End

◆ The Night Before Christmas

Books

◆ Timewyrm: Genesis

◆ Timewyrm: Exodus

◆ Timewyrm: Apocalypse

◆ Timewyrm: Revelation

◆ Cat’s Cradle: Time’s Crucible

◆ Cat’s Cradle: Warhead

◆ Cat’s Cradle: Witch Mark

◆ Nightshade

◆ Love and War

◆ Transit

◆ The Highest Science

◆ The Pit

◆ Deceit

◆ Lucifer Rising

◆ White Darkness

◆ Shadowmind

◆ Birthright

◆ Iceberg

◆ Blood Heat

◆ The Dimension Riders

◆ The Left-Handed Hummingbird

◆ Conundrum

◆ No Future

◆ Tragedy Day

◆ Legacy

◆ Theatre of War

◆ All-Consuming Fire

◆ Blood Harvest

◆ Strange England

◆ First Frontier

◆ St Anthony’s Fire

◆ Falls the Shadow

◆ Parasite

◆ Warlock

◆ Set Piece

◆ Infinite Requiem

◆ Sanctuary

◆ Human Nature

◆ Original Sin

◆ Sky Pirates!

◆ Zamper

◆ Toy Soldiers

◆ Head Games

◆ The Also People

◆ Shakedown

◆ Just War

◆ Warchild

◆ SLEEPY

◆ Death and Diplomacy

◆ Happy Endings

◆ GodEngine

◆ Christmas on a Rational Planet

◆ Return of the Living Dad

◆ The Death of Art

◆ Damaged Goods

◆ So Vile a Sin

◆ Bad Therapy

◆ Eternity Weeps

◆ The Room With no Doors

◆ Lungbarrow

◆ The Dying Days

◆ Illegal Alien

◆ The Hollow Men

◆ Matrix

◆ Storm Harvest

◆ Prime Time

◆ Independence Day

◆ Bullet Time

◆ Relative Time

◆ Heritage

◆ Loving the Alien

◆ The Algebra of Ice

◆ Atom Bomb Blues

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 33

*Warning Adult Content*

John

I drive like a maniac and Becky ends up pressed into the passenger seat like an astronaut enduring the g-force of a rough launch.

"Jesus, John," she admonishes as I fly through a yellow light and take a sharp turn, causing the dogs to tumble around in the back seat.

"Be careful. We won't get there any faster if we're dead."

"Sorry."

I ease my death grip on the steering wheel and force myself to take a breath.

"Try him again, will you?"

Muttering to herself about men behind the wheel, Becky pulls my phone from the magnetic dash anchor, unlocks it with the code I haven't changed since we lived together and calls Carlos.

"Voicemail again," she says, re-sticking the phone to the dash.

"Fuck. It's been an hour. Something's wrong."

"Or maybe he's just busy," Becky says, though she doesn't sound like she believes it.

"There could be a million reasons he hasn't called you back, none of which are whatever nightmare scenario you've dreamed up."

"Maybe."

Any other time, I'd agree with her.

Becky was always the voice of reason between the two of us.

We took a trip on our honeymoon... we weren't in love but we figured what the hell and just about everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong.

Our flights were delayed.

The airline lost our luggage.

The resort in Cancun had no record of our reservations.

I'd been ready to give up and go home but Becky had remained calm as a prosecutor who knows she has her case in the bag.

One crisis at a time, she handled it like a pro and in the end we had a great time.

Part of me is glad she's here now and wants badly to believe she's right but part of me is itching with anxiety and knows better than to ignore what my instincts are telling me.

And my instincts are lit like a three alarm fire.

A light ahead of us turns yellow and this time I stop and wait.

I'm glad I do because if I'd floored it, the dark windowless van that runs the red from the cross street would have sideswiped me and probably killed us all.

Becky squeaks and I turn to see her pressed into her seat again, staring straight ahead with wide eyes.

"Are you okay?"

She turns her head and blinks at me.

"No, I am not okay. What the fuck is wrong with this town? I thought people drove slow in places like this."

"One Delta Five, Dispatch."

The unit with that code responds.

"1D5, go ahead."

Dispatch replies.

"Man down, 418 Hawthorne. Caller reports victim is unresponsive. EMS is en route. Lights and siren authorized."

"1D5, en route."

"Look up that address," I say to Becky. "418 Hawthorne."

She snatches my phone again and opens the map app.

"It's... a restaurant," she says, squinting at the screen. "The... Perro Gordo Bar and Grill."

"Fuck. That's the Sandoval place."

"Sandoval?"

"One of our suspects. Alejo Sandoval. His family owns it. Carlos mentioned having met him there."

"John, just because someone was in a bar fight doesn't mean..."

The light changes and I accelerate into a U turn, speeding back the way we'd come and towards the center of town.

By the time we reach the scene, radio chatter has informed me that multiple units have responded, that it's a shooting and suspected homicide and that drugs may be involved.

I park as close as I can get, unbuckle my seatbelt and pop the handle on the door.

"Stay here, Becks," I say and get out, badge at the ready.

True to form, Becky doesn't listen, and follows with the dogs in tow.

She knows better than to actually get in the way or interfere, so I save my breath and concentrate on the scene.

Emergency lights illuminate the street in flashes of blue and red.

An ambulance, a fire truck and three patrol cars block the road,and a handful of gawkers with cell-phones held aloft gather in little groups at the sidelines. On the steps in front of the restaurant, a uniformed officer interviews an older man with a blanket around his shoulders who struggles to speak in broken English through his tears.

As I approach, a familiar form steps forth to block my way.

"John? What the hell are you doing here?" Latoya McKenzie raises both purple-nailed hands, as if to hold me back with the Force.

"What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were after the Morellis?" She frowns.

"I was. This took precedence."

Behind her, the EMTs wheel a gurney from the alley between the restaurant and the adjacent building.

I crane my neck and catch a glimpse of a black bag.

Latoya moves to block my view.

"John, you shouldn't be here," she says, sending a shock of ice through my heart.

"You're too close to this and..."

I shove past her, none too gently, ready to thrust my badge in the face of anyone who gets in my way.

No one stops me, though and the EMTs don't have time to react before I grab hold of the gurney and unzip the top of the bag.

For a moment, my vital functions seem to freeze, my heart and lungs turned to stone and then I suck in a lungful of air and nearly pass out with relief.

The face staring up at me, dark eyes already clouding in death, is handsome and tanned but it doesn't belong to the man I love.

My ears ring and it sounds like I'm underwater.

Someone loops an arm around my waist and pulls me away, forcing me to sit on one of the weathered, wood-slatted benches that line the sidewalks in this part of town, strategically placed to give footsore tourists a place to rest.

To my great surprise, it's Chief Coleridge herself who kneels in front of me.

She says something but I can't hear her.

I blink a few times and my hearing clears.

"What?"

She runs a hand over her hair and casts her gaze heavenward.

"Christ. I'd swear the job description doesn't say 'must be gay and prone to falling in love."

I choke on a laugh.

Her hawk like gray eyes lock with mine.

"Are you really okay?" I scrub my hand over my mouth and force myself to take slow, deep breaths.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. I just thought..."

Her brows pinch.

"When was the last time you heard from Martinez?"

"Huh...?"

"Eight fifty-three," Becky's voice startles me and I look up to see she's standing at the end of the bench, my phone in her hand, checking the time on Carlos's call.

"And who exactly are you?" Coleridge asks, her gravelly Kate Hepburn voice dropping a few notes as she narrows her eyes and gets to her feet.

"Oh. Sorry. Rebecca Wu. Assistant to the DA, Sacramento. And John's ex-wife."

Becky extends her hand and winces.

"I swear it's not as awkward as it sounds."

Coleridge sizes her up and accepts the handshake with the graciousness of one ship's captain greeting another.

"Not sure you should be here but since you are..."

She beckons to the officer speaking to the old man, who I gather is the elder Sandoval.

The officer approaches and I recognize one of the younger recruits, blond and blue-eyed, and all of five-two and with a deceptively rounded physique but with a bull-dog's grit and a bear's strength.

I can't remember her name but I remember her putting some boys to shame in the station's gym.

"Carter, show them the video," Coleridge says. Carter, whose first name I now recall is Jane, taps the screen of her phone a few times and holds the device at eye level for me.

Becky stands behind the bench and leans down to watch over my shoulder.

On the screen, a grainy security video shows the length of the alleyway in a distorted, fisheye view.

The angle suggests the camera was placed about halfway down its length.

I don't dare blink as, at 3x normal speed, I see two figures come into view, one of which appears drunk or drugged.

I hold my breath as Carlos staggers and Alejo props him against the car before proceeding to show him something in the trunk.

Then they're joined by a third figure, who at first seems interested in Alejo's illicit wares and then... out of nowhere... pops him one in the back of the head.

With Alejo down, Carlos moves out of the frame with the too slow pace of someone trying to run in a nightmare.

The other figure follows him and a moment later both reappear as a van pulls up to block the end of the alleyway.

I watch, hand over my mouth, as Carlos is forced into the vehicle, which takes off like a Formula One car at the start of a race.

The video continues for a while after that, bugs floating in and out of the screen as the camera records the alleyway, empty except for the car and the motionless body draped over the open trunk.

Carter stops the playback and steps away.

I lift my eyes to meet Coleridge's.

"What the fuck was that?" Coleridge glances at the old man still weeping on the steps of the pub and lowers her voice.

"Jose Sandoval suspected his son was dealing drugs," she says.

"I guess he told his dad he'd made the money off BitCoin but the old man didn't believe him. He bought these cameras and set them around the restaurant, hoping to catch his boy in the act and knock some sense into him before he got into real shit and ruined his life. Unfortunately..."

"Too late for that," Becky murmurs.

"What about the other guy? You got an ID?"

Coleridge sighs.

"No. But given the circumstances and given that whoever it was seems to have been working as a pair with whoever was driving that van..."

"The Morellis," Becky gasps as if she's just solved the winning clue in some party game.

"That's what we're assuming at the moment, yes."

"Fuck. You remember that van that just about creamed us?"

Becky grabs my shoulder in an eagle-claw grip and shakes it.

"That was them."

A sick feeling slithers through my gut.

She's right.

My instincts had my nerves on fire at that point and I'd ignored them in the interest of appearing sane in front of Becky.

If I'd been alone, wouldn't I have known the man I'd bonded with was right there and wouldn't I have gone after him?

I shake my head as if to clear it and get to my feet.

Coleridge takes a step back at whatever she sees on my face.

"Whoa... John, let's just take a minute to..."

"No. There are no minutes to take," I say, consulting my watch.

"My guess is the Morellis know the game is up. The third phase of the ritual... the 'Feast of Betrayal' is technically meant to take place on the full moon but I'd bet we have until midnight to find and stop them."

"That's my thought, as well," Coleridge says.

"Which is why I've called for... backup."

"Backup?"

"Yes."

Coleridge rubs her brow.

"I wanted Dane Hunter on this but he's... 'busy,' apparently. But his sister's in town."

"I don't follow."

What the fuck do I care if some former detective's God-damn sister is visiting?

"She's..."

The rumble of an engine interrupts her and I turn to look as a single headlight approaches.

It belongs to a motorcycle... an Indian Chief Darkhorse, as I know from my days of pining after one and for some reason, no one stops it as it weaves a path through the blockade and pulls up in front of us.

The rider kills the engine and kicks the stand, dismounting as she pulls off her helmet and shakes out a head of long dark curls.

Six feet of photo-shoot ready, leather-clad attitude approaches and smiles at me.

"You must be John Turner," she says, extending a slender, brown-skinned, perfectly manicured hand.

"Freya Hunter. Nice to meet ya."

[rubyredsiren]

[Given the fact Sammy’s had to deal with it for nearly her entire life, the idea of being hunted solely because of her Siren heritage became kinda…desensitized the older Sammy got]

[Hell, her and Quincy met because Quincy went on a revenge bounty set on Sammy for the murder of her older brother. Delta would go on and on and on about capturing a Siren so his dad would be proud of him, completely unaware of what would result for Sammy. (read: death because in this AU, common folklore is killing a Siren = grants a wish)]

[And that’s before even going into her own Siren grandmother and the pro-ruthless lessons she tried to teach Sammy. Trying so hard to reinforce the idea that the only way you live to old age as a Siren is if you’re absolutely merciless, because Vaults know the world isn’t gonna show you any.]

[The worst part is Sammy doesn’t really understand how awful such a fate is until she’s like in her 20s and has to watch the shit Ava has to deal with. She’s partly the cool aunt but also super protective because now she’s in an outsider’s perspective.]

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

WTNV quick rundown - 167 - Echo

Read the rest here!

Spring reveals nature's secret: that death is reversible. Welcome to Night Vale.

Cecil explains that after wearing you down with the voices of his passengers, The Pilot then sends you his message which appears to be about how all nature is beautiful but hides the hidden message that therefore anything not beautiful (at The Pilot's discretion) is an affront to nature which should be destroyed.

Most of the town has been taken over by the cult of 18713 else destroyed looking for those who can't be controlled. Amongst the controlled, along with City Council is Amelia Anna Alfaro atop city hall. She has been chosen as The Pilot's chief strategist.

Amelia is in charge of sentencing those who are captured. They are to be tied together and one last attempt made to assimilate them. Those who did not assimilate will be executed. Amongst the captured is Yvette Alfaro who makes a plea to her daughter, apologising for living vicariously through her. She hands Amelia a piece of paper but is pushed away and tied up with the rest of the prisoners.

Cecil and Carlos are finally captured and brought before Amelia and Doug to be sentences. During the sentencing The Pilot finally appears in person and makes his last plea, which Cecil resists. Just before the sentencings, Amelia realises she's holding the paper and opens it. It's a message from her mother, written in code, and thus it allows Amelia to be free from The Pilot long enough to use her weapon to cut his front and free everyone.

Cecil and Carlos reunite and help to free prisoners as the newly freed passengers of delta 19713 get used to having control over themselves again.

Weather: “The Stolen Century” by Ellen Beizer

Tamika kept The Pilot out of her mind by listening to audiobooks.

Lee Marvin is turing 32 'next month'.

We do not hear the returning echo of sirens across the valley. We do not hear anything but ourselves. Stay tuned next for a silence that is all your own. Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

Proverb: Did you know the Germans have 31 different words for beer? Well, they don't. That's wrong. You're wrong.

[astarab1aze]

➥ Mercenary Hermit

⸻Technical Information. // Face, Voice, etc.

01. Faceclaim. Naofumi Iwatani   [ Shield Hero ] & Hizen Tadahiro [ Touken Ranbu ] 04. Voice Claim. TBA

⸻Profile Information. // Name, Age, etc.

01. Name. Mharra Deletholan   [ 'father of grazing beasts' ; literally 'father' + 'priest' (Mharra) and de- from the word meaning 'animal' (denora) + 'flower' ] 02. Alias. Mara, Bashara'lin ('poison tip'), Jhen'mahri ('soldier of death' literally, but translates more closely to 'black knight'), Arsehole 03. Sex. Male 04. Gender. Male 05. Age. 236   [ Dependent ] 06. Birth Date. April 30th   [ World Tree ] 07. Blood Type. Sub-type EA+ 08. Race. Elfhen, Volleni by nationality and allegiance ; Fhal'Tiran by ethnicity. 09. Marital Status. Single   [ Multiship ] 10. Orientation. Demiromantic   [ Bisexual / no preference ] 11. Residence. He lives in Namarhilenda'Ellamara, or 'Spirit of the Forest', a growing city based in the forests of Vollen, built into a new 'home tree' for the rebel elves; He doesn't actually live within city limits but just outside, in a hut that blends seamlessly into the environment. 

⸻Physical Information. // Body, Equipment, Family, etc.

17. Physical Description. Mharra has wild dark, almost-black hair with barest hints of elfhen red, textured and messy but still altogether very soft. His eyes are nearly colorless save for the sharp hint of green around his pupils, and they appear to see past everyone he looks upon. His skin is lightly tanned, freckled, and somewhat olive in tone, littered with battlescars he's long-since lost track of. He is lean and fairly toned, somewhat muscular and angular in shape in-line with what is typical for elves. He stands at an odd 5'9", not too tall but still somewhat short for an elf (his sister is taller, 6'3"). He tends to wear armor and clothes capable of withstanding the day-to-day of life in the Volleni Brightwood - thicker, more resilient materials, usually some combination of leather, steel, and thick cotton. Green, gray, and brown are the sort of colors one can expect to see him in most. He switches between light and medium armors, focusing a lot on mobility, adaptation, and general survivability.

13. Equipment. He tends to travel light and really only keep on him what won't limit his movement; A traditional elfhen longsword, elfhen dagger, shortbow, palmseal, herbalist's tools, husbandry tools, flint, rope, weybread, a journal, a set of clothes, and some assortment of other, easy to carry magical tools. 14. Occupation. A former captain in both the Fhal'Tiran Imperial Army and the Volleni Rebellion, now a bitter hermit dabbling in mercenary work and anti-war activism. 15. Job Performance. Respected and referred to by name and rank almost in spite of his insistent retirement. 16. Parents. Both, of no renown, were brutally killed in a raid on the village just outside of A'Virda Phar'Valan (collossal twin statues depicting the mother goddess on either side of the delta). The Fhal'Tiran Empire had its battlemages pushing south along the coast, and in a stroke of restless boredom and cruelty, they slaughtered the villagers. 17. Siblings. He has a younger sister, Renna, who is a captain in the Volleni army.

⸻Personality Information. // Likes, Strengths, etc.

18. Likes. Most animals, most plants, sleeping, campfire smell, smoking canaemery after a good meal, spending time with his celare, stargazing, hot springs, Fhal'Tiran scarbuncle cheeses, poisoning his arrows and blades, meat, quiet, babbling rivers, rain storms, the Siren Coast, sunrise, etc. 19. Dislikes. Most people, too much noise, birds, liars, vagueness, crowded or small spaces, dragons, the Fhal'Tiran Empire, humans, deforestation, war, talking, being spoken to, being bothered at all, gas adders, peaceflower, blind faith, demons, Wildlings, Myhala, the desecration of important monuments and burial sites, not getting paid for services rendered, etc.

20. Positive Traits. Thoughtful. Self-assured. Independent. Resilient. Straight-forward. Quick thinking. Knows his limits. Careful. Protective. Self-sacrificing. Intelligent. Skilled. 21. Negative Traits. Takes things too seriously. Bitter. Punishing. Too quiet, too stoic. Selfish. Insensitive. Distrusting. Avoidant. Nightmarish temper. Miserable. Lonely. Occasionally manipulative. Heavy-handed. Impatient. Somewhat hypocritical. 22. Goals. To get his fellow elves to sit down and stop fucking fighting before they all succumb to madness; Genuinely, to put an end to the constant warring so they can reunite and find a solution to their problems as a people. 23. Desires. His personal wishes are not anyone's concern. 24. Alignment. Neutral - really only out to serve his own interests; Helping folk is a pleasant secondary effect.

25. Personality. Mharra's a bit difficult to pin down. He's not so complicated as he is difficult in general, preferring loneliness to company, silence to the hum of another's voice. If he'd had his way, he'd be a hermit, never having to interact with others unless he wants to, bitter and angry about the wars his people wage against each other. People taking advantage of each other and their circumstances to gain territory, an advantage over the other, maipulation, obfuscation, omission-- He can't stand people who lie or hide from the truth. Naturally, most people just end up disgusting him, but even so, perhaps paradoxically, he still wants them to live and live well. He's actually remarkably depressed, just irritable about it. It's not like he's phobic of other people - just needs specific types around him who can understand him, underestand that his problem isn't so much anger and hate but a resounding disatisfaction with the direction his people are going, that he fears for the future. He can be a bit abbrasive, blunt, and seemingly treat everything as transactional, but this is just as much defensive mechanism as it is general disposition.

⸻Sorcery Information. // Element, Talent, etc.

26. Affinity. Bestial, Earth, and Light - high-level manipulation and understanding of how each actually works when applied to anything. 27. Shapeshifting. Bear, wolf, cricket, lixni, rat, and owl - he can transform into some animals of varying sizes and ability, but he'll never be able to transform into objects or other people. 28. Utility. Elfhen applications of magic, sealing, cleansing, animal speech, alteration, herbalism & alchemy, dispelling, curses, hexes, enchantment, husbandry, transformation, and barriers. 29. Specialization. Enhancement, Poison, Animal Speech, Rejuvination, and Elfhen Feywild Magic - a wide range of high-level magic tailored to his unique fighting style, all hard-earned through practice, training, and education as provided by the Fhal'Tiran military. 30. Graduate School. Not applicable. 31. Classification. Mercenary - self-explanatory. 

⸻Background Information. // Past to Present.

    Mharra was once an ardent believer in the Fhal'Tiran Empire, devoted to his people in every sense; Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and willing to do anything to live up to the expectations laid out by the Emperor of the Vaalorisa. Until they started raiding peasant villages. Until they started slaughtering travelers. Until the madness infected the Emperor, birthing inside the then-home tree a putrid rot that would begin to eat away at the forest, the empire, the people.

Conflict seemed an eternal inevitability with the addition of the Mad Empress' curse, and such had begun to effect his mental state and attitudes toward his own. So much death, so much fear, palpable unwillingness to put their swords down and talk things through, find a solution instead - it made him sick. Made him ill. And, at the time, neither could a host of his people, who'd rallied together under the Volleni banner and took advantage of the Emperor's ailing mind and resultant lack of attention in order to found Vollen on the fringes of the Diremark. Yet, there were more reasons for him to turn his back on the empire - ever and always was he to put his life on the line for fast-decreasing reward, and one can only take being cannon fodder for so long before he inevitably defects and joins a rebellion.

Especially when the empire he served saw fit to annihilate all in the village his parents lived. But this trauma proved a blessing in disguise, for it pushed him deeper into the Volleni army, gave his work justification and meaning again, and under his leadership, the Volleni took back what was destroyed and rebuilt, pushing further into the Brightwood to claim even more, push back the empire. Avenging his parents this way, in killing his own people for their trespasses, he was part of the problem, responding to inherent madness with violence in place of a cure when that was what his people needed most. That was what would end the warring, the aggression, the death, pain, everything--

But who was he? Talent in herbalism only goes so far. So he chose instead to retire and focus his energy elsewhere, on the bottom, where all the farmers, hunters, seamstresses, healers, children, nursemaids, and the rest would need him most. Offering herbal remedies and help in fending off bandits, criminals, widows, building homes and fixing signs, for a price. In effect, he took a page out of the Vagoan handbook, pushing past his distaste for foreigners (and really anyone else for that matter) in order to serve his people best.

All well and good. Yet he would rather be a hermit, hiding away from others, hidden within a verdant landscape from prying eyes. Why? It can't possibly be because of the war in totality! Surely, there's more to him than some silly 1+1=2 formula! Where among it all had he truly lost his way? It wasn't just his parents he lost, but his brothers-in-arms, too, witnessed and committed so much harm... Surely there's more, surely there's more.

[pancakeavalanche]

nine inch nails in 1994

depeche mode in 1986

twenty one pilots in 2015

panic at the disco in 2016

new order in 2013

depeche mode in 1984

depeche mode in 2013

my chemical romance in 2006

yungblud in 2019

cavetown in 2018

[cielrouge]

YA SFF Books by Black Authors 

A Song Below Water by Bethany C. Morrow: About the strength of black sisterhood set in Portland, OR, best friends Tavi and Effie discover their true supernatural identity when Effie starts being haunted by demons from her past, and Tavia accidentally lets out her magical siren voice during a police stop.

A Chorus Rises (A Song Below Water #2) by Bethany C. Morrow: Teen influencer Naema Bradshaw is an Eloko, a person who’s gifted with a song that woos anyone who hears it. Everyone loves her — well, until she's cast as the awful person who exposed Tavia’s secret siren powers. When a new, flourishing segment of Naema’s online supporters start targeting black girls, however, Naema must discover the true purpose of her magical voice.

A Song of Wraiths and Ruin by Roseanne A. Brown: Inspired by West African folklore in which a grieving crown princess, Karina, and a desperate refugee, Malik, find themselves on a collision course to murder each other, despite their growing attraction.

Akata Witch by Nnedi Okorafor: Sunny Nwazue, an American-born albino child of Nigerian parents, moves with her family back to Nigeria, where she learns that she has latent magical powers which she and three similarly gifted friends use to catch a serial killer.

Akata Warrior (Akata Witch #2) by Nnedi Okorafor: Now stronger, feistier, and a bit older, Sunny Nwazue, along with her friends from the the Leopard Society, travel through worlds, both visible and invisible, to the mysterious town of Osisi, where they fight in a climactic battle to save humanity.

Bad Witch Burning by Jessica Lewis: For fans of Us and The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina comes a witchy story full of black girl magic as one girl’s dark ability to summon the dead offers her a chance at a new life, while revealing to her an even darker future.

Beasts Made of Night by Tochi Onyebuchi: After he eats the sin of a royal, Taj, a talented aki, or sin-eater who consumes the guilt of others whose transgressions are exorcised from them by powerful but corrupt Mages, is drawn into a plot to destroy the city, and he must fight to save the princess he loves and his own life.

Beasts of Prey by Ayana Gray: Two Black teenagers, talented Beastkeeper Koffi and warrior-in-training Ekon, must trek into a magical jungle to take down an ancient creature menacing the city of Lkossa, before they become the hunted.

The Belles by Dhonielle Clayton: In the opulent world of Orléans, where Beauty is a commodity only a few control, Belle Camellia Beauregard will learn the dark secrets behind her powers, and rise up to change the world. 

A Blade So Black by L.L. McKinney: A whimsical and butt-kicking Alice in Wonderland retelling featuring a black teen heroine who battles Nightmares in the dark and terrifying dream realm known as Wonderland. 

Bleeding Violet by Dia Reeves: 16-year-old Hanna reunites with her estranged mother in an East Texas town that is haunted with doors to dimensions of the dead and protected by demon hunters called Mortmaine.

Blood Like Magic by Liselle Sambury: Set in near-future Toronto in which, after failing to come into her powers, 16-year-old Black witch Voya Thomas must choose between losing her family’s magic forever or murdering her first love.

The Bones of Ruin by Sarah Raughley: Set in Victorian England, African tightrope walker Iris cannot die; but soon gets drafted in the fight-to-the-death tournament of freaks where she learns the terrible truth of who and what she really is.

The Cost of Knowing by Brittney Morris: A gripping, evocative novel about Black teen Alex Rufus, who has the power to see into the future, and whose life turns upside down when he foresees his younger brother’s imminent death.

Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi: 17-year-old Zélie and companions journey to a mythic island seeking a chance to bring back magic to the land of Orïsha, in a fantasy world infused with the textures of West Africa.

Children of Virtue and Vengeance (Legacy of Orïsha #2) by Tomi Adeyemi: After battling the impossible, Zélie and Amari have finally succeeded in bringing magic back to the land of Orïsha. But with civil war looming on the horizon, Zélie finds herself at a breaking point: she must discover a way to bring the kingdom together or watch as Orïsha tears itself apart.

Cinderella Is Dead by Kalynn Bayron: 16-year-old Sophia would much rather marry Erin, her childhood best friend, than parade in front of suitors. At the ball, Sophia flees, hiding in Cinderella’s mausoleum. There, she meets Constance, the last known descendant of Cinderella and her step sisters. Together they vow to bring down the king once and for all.

The Cost of Knowing by Brittney Morris: A gripping, evocative novel about Black teen Alex Rufus, who has the power to see into the future, and whose life turns upside down when he foresees his younger brother’s imminent death.

Crown of Thunder (Beasts Made of Night #2) by Tochi Onyebuchi: Taj has escaped Kos, but Queen Karima will go to any means necessary--including using the most deadly magic--to track him down. 

A Crown So Cursed (Nightmare Verse #3) by L.L. McKinney: Alice is ready to jump into battle when she learns that someone is building an army of Nightmares to attack the mortal world, before she learns of a personal connection to Wonderland.

Daughters of Jubilation by Kara Lee Corthron: In Jim Crow South, black teen Evalene Deschamps finds her place among a family of women gifted with magical abilities, known as jubilation - a gift passed down from generations of black women since the time of slavery.

Dread Nation by Justina Ireland: The Civil War is over, but mostly because the dead rose at Gettysburg—and then started rising everywhere else. Fighting the undead is a breeze for Jane McKenne, an Attendant, trained in both weaponry and etiquette to protect the well-to-do. But the fight for freedom? That’s a different story.

Deathless Divide (Dread Nation #2) by Justina Ireland: After the fall of Summerland, Jane McKeene hoped her life would get simpler. But nothing is easy when you’re a girl trained in putting down the restless dead, and a devastating loss on the road to Nicodermus has Jane questioning everything she thought she knew about surviving in 1880’s America.

A Dream So Dark (Nightmare Verse #2) by L.L. McKinney: Still reeling from her recent battle (and grounded until she graduates) Alice must cross the Veil to rescue her friends and stop the Black Knight once and for all in Wonderland.

Early Departures by Justin A. Reynolds: Jamal’s best friend Q is brought back to life after a freak accident … but they only have a short time together before he will die again.  How can Jamal fix his friendship without the truth?

Fate of Flames by Sarah Raughley:  Before they can save the world from the monstrous phantoms, four girls who have the power to control the classical elements: earth, air, fire, and water must first try to figure out how to work together. 

For All Time by Shanna Miles: Tamar and Fayard, two Black teens, are fated to repeat their love story across hundreds of lifetimes, from 14th-century Mali to the distant future, as they struggle to break the cycle.

The Gilded Ones by Namina Forna: Inspired by the culture of West Africa, a feminist fantasy debut traces the experiences of 16-year-old Deka, who is invited to leave her discriminatory village to join the emperor’s army of near-immortal women warriors.

The Good Luck Girls by Charlotte Nicole Davis: The country of Arketta calls them Good Luck Girls--they know their luck is anything but. Sold to a "welcome house" as children and branded with cursed markings. When Clementine accidentally kills a man, the girls risk a dangerous escape to find freedom, justice, and revenge.

Kingdom of Souls by Rena Barron: Set in a West African-inspired fantasy kingdom, Arrah comes from a long line of powerful witchdoctors, yet fails at magic. When Arrah trade years off her life for magic to stop the Demon King from destroying the world—that is if it doesn’t kill her first.

Legacy of Light (The Effgies #3) by Sarah Raughley: After Saul’s strike on Oslo—one seemingly led by Maia herself—the Effigies’ reputation is in shambles. Belle has gone rogue, Chae Rin and Lake have disappeared, and the Sect is being dismantled and replaced by a terrifying new world order helmed by Blackwell. If the Effigies can’t put the pieces together soon, there may not be much left of the world they’ve fought so desperately to save.

Legendborn by Tracy Deonn: In this King Arthur retelling, Black teen Bree Matthews infiltrates a secret society of powerful magic wielders to find out the truth behind her mother’s untimely death.

Mem by Bethany C. Morrow: In alternate reality Montreal (1925), a young woman’s personality is the result of a startling experimental procedure, leaving her to struggle with the question of who she really is.

Miles Morales, Spider-Man by Jason Reynolds: But Miles Morales accidentally discovers a villainous teacher's plan to turn good kids bad, he will need to come to terms with his own destiny as the new Spider-man. 

Oh My Gods by Alexandra Sheppard: Half-mortal teenager Helen Thomas goes to live with her father—who is Zeus, masquerading as a university professor—and must do her best to keep the family secret intact.

The Opposite of Always by Justin A. Reynolds: After falling for Kate, her unexpected death sends Jack back in time to the moment they first met, but he soon learns that his actions have consequences when someone else close to him dies.

Orleans by Sherri L. Smith: Set in a futuristic, hostile Orleans landscape, Fen de la Guerre must deliver her tribe leader's baby over the Wall into the Outer States before her blood becomes tainted with Delta Fever. 

Nubia: Real One by L.L. McKinney & Robyn Smith: When Nubia’s best friend, Quisha, is threatened by a boy who thinks he owns the town, Nubia will risk it all—her safety, her home, and her crush on that cute kid in English class—to become the hero society tells her she isn’t.

A Phoenix First Must Burn: 16 Stories of Black Girl Magic, Resistance, and Hope edited by Patrice Caldwell: Filled with stories of love and betrayal, strength and resistance, this collection contains an array of complex and true-to-life characters in which you cannot help but see yourself reflected. Witches and scientists, sisters and lovers, priestesses and rebels.

This Poison Heart by Kalynn Bayron: In this contemporary fantasy inspired by The Secret Garden, Black teen Briseis has a gift: she can grow plants with a single touch. Up against a centuries-old curse and the deadliest plant on earth, Bri must harness her gift to protect herself and her family, when a nefarious group comes after her in search of a rare and dangerous immortality elixir.

A Psalm of Storm and Silence (A Song of Wraiths and Ruin #2) by Roseanne A. Brown: As the fabric holding Sonande together begins to tear, Malik and Karina once again find themselves torn between their duties and their desires.

A Queen of Gilded Horns (A River of Royal Blood #2) by Amanda Joy: After learning the truth of her heritage, Eva is on the run with her sister Isa as her captive, but with the Queendom of Myre on the brink of revolution, Eva and Isa must make peace with each other to save their kingdom.

Raybearer by Jordan Ifueko: In a West African-inspired empire, Tarisai is raised by The Lady and sent to kill the Crown Prince once she gains his trust. Tarisai won’t stand by and become someone’s pawn—but is she strong enough to choose a different path for herself?

Redemptor (Raybearer #2) by Jordan Ifueko: For the first time, an Empress Redemptor sits on Aritsar's throne. To appease the sinister spirits of the dead, Tarisai must now anoint a council of her own, coming into her full power as a Raybearer.

The Ravens by Danielle Page & Kass Morgan: The sisters of Kappu Rho Nu share a secret: they’re a coven of witches. For Vivi Deveraux, being one of Kappa Rho Nu’s Ravens means getting a chance to redefine herself. For Scarlett Winters, a bonafide Raven and daughter of a legacy Raven. When Vivi and Scarlett are paired as big and little for initiation, they find themselves sinking into the sinister world of blood oaths and betrayals.

Rebel Sisters (War Girls #2) by Tochi Onyebuchi: Though they are working toward common goals of helping those who suffered, Ify and Uzo are worlds apart. But when a mysterious virus breaks out among the children in the Space Colonies, their paths collide.

Reaper of Souls (Kingdom of Souls #2) by Rena Barron: After so many years yearning for the gift of magic, Arrah has the one thing she’s always wanted—at a terrible price. But the Demon King’s shadow looms closer than she thinks. And as Arrah struggles to unravel her connection to him, defeating him begins to seem more and more impossible.

A River of Royal Blood by Amanda Joy: A North African-inspired feminist fantasy in which two sisters, Eva and Isa must compete in a magical duel to the death for the right to inherit the queendom of Myre.  

Slice of Cherry by Dia Reeves: In Portero, Texas, teens Kit and Fancy Cordelle, daughters of the infamous Bonesaw Killer, bring two boys with similar tendencies to a world of endless possibilities they have discovered behind a mysterious door.

Siege of Shadows (The Effigies #2) by Sarah Raughley:  After Saul reappears with an army of soldiers with Effigy-like abilities, threatening to unleash the monstrous Phantoms, e-year-old Maia and the other Effigies hope to defeat him by discovering the source of their power over the four classical elements, but they are betrayed by the Sect and bogged down by questions about the previous Fire Effigy's murder.

The Sisters of Reckoning (The Good Luck Girls #2) by Charlotte Nicole Davis: The blockbuster sequel to an alternate Old West-set commercial fantasy adventure.

The Sound of Stars by Alechia Dow: Set in the near-future, in which a captive teen human and a young alien leader—bonded by their love of forbidden books and music—embark on a desperate road trip as they attempt to overturn alien rule and save humankind. 

War Girls by Tochi Onyebuchi: Set in a futuristic, Black Panther-inspired Nigeria, sisters Onyii and Ify, separated by a devastating civil war, must fight their way back to each other against all odds.

Vessel by Sarah Beth Durst: When the goddess Bayla fails to take over Liyana's body, Liyana's people abandon her in the desert to find a more worthy vessel, but she soon meets Korbyn, who says the souls of seven deities have been stolen and he needs Liyana's help to find them.

The Weight of Stars by K. Ancrum: After a horrific accident brings loners Ryann and Alexandria together, Ryann learns that Alexandria's mother is an astronaut who volunteered for a one-way trip to the edge of the solar system.

White Smoke by Tiffany D. Jackson: Black teen Marigold and her blended family move into a newly renovated, picture-perfect home in a dilapidated Midwestern city, and are haunted by what she thinks are ghosts, but might be far worse.

Wings of Ebony by J. Elle: Black teen Rue, from a poor neighborhood who, after learning she is half-human, half-goddess, must embrace both sides of her heritage to unlock her magic and destroy the racist gods poisoning her neighborhood with violence, drugs, and crime.

Witches Steeped in Gold by Ciannon Thomas: In this Jamaican-inspired fantasy debut, two witches from enemy castes—one seeking power, and one seeking revenge—will stop at nothing to overthrow the witch queen, even if it means forming an alliance with each other and unleashing chaos on their island nation.

Within These Wicked Walls by Lauren Blackwood: An Ethiopian-inspired Jane Eyre retelling in which an unlicensed debtera, or exorcist, Andromeda, is hired to rid a castle of its dangerous curses, only to fall in love with Magnus Rochester, a boy whose life hangs in the balance.

Yesterday Is History by Kosoko Jackson: Black teen Andre Cobb undergoes a liver transplant and as a side effect winds up slipping through time from present-day Boston to 1969 NYC on the eve of the Stonewall riots, delivering a story that is part romance, part gay history, and part time-travel drama, exploring how far we have and haven't come.