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snow-lavender · 4 years

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The Last Day of Sanity

AKA, “Ahh, there’s the bitch”

Word Count: 10959

Yeah so this one maybe got away from me in terms of length. But I’m also really proud of it, and proud of getting it done. Thank you for reading if you do!

Warnings: suicidal impulses, discussion of suicide, apparent (but not actual) suicide, mild blood and gore, hospitals, talks of institutionalization, ableism and derogatory language toward those with psychosis and similar conditions, violence (though not very described, mostly implied), and apparent character death. (It's Say Goodbye, so, y'know. Fun times.)

AO3 Link Here

Seán was staring at his ceiling. That wasn’t exactly rare these days.

His head was pounding, just like it had been for the last week. His hands were shaking. He couldn’t get warm. He couldn’t focus. Sometimes, when it was especially bad, he could barely string together a sentence.

Simply put, he was a wreck.

Something flickered at the edge of his vision. When he looked, there was Robin, covered in blood and stab wounds. He didn’t move, just stood by the closet, staring at him.

His breath hitched for a moment, but he forced it back under control. Pushing up to sit, he tried to calm down. “One, two, three, four.” he muttered as he inhaled. He repeated this as he held, exhaled, held.

One, two, three, four.

When he opened his eyes, Robin was still there, a few feet closer. He closed his eyes and tried again.

One, two, three, four.

It’s not real.

One, two, three, four.

It’s not.

He looked again. Robin was looming over him now. “Fuck it,” he muttered, pulling out his phone and snapping a picture of Robin's face.

To: I’m a Cat Man: hey s there anythibg there

A second later, he got a reply.

From: I’m a Cat Man: Nope, you’re all good.

To: I’m a Cat Man: Thx

Sure enough, when he looked back up, he was alone again. Laying back down, he spoke aloud. “Really, man? I know you can only do one of these a day. Why blow it this early in the morning?”

As expected, Scáth didn’t reply.

Seán sighed and closed his eyes again. This whole thing wasn’t exactly uncommon. Something about Halloween made it stronger, and brought out its more sadistic streak. He was used to that; he’d been dealing with it for twenty-some years. But this year was worse than it had ever been. Normally, it was just shadows at the edge of his vision, hearing things that weren’t there, maybe three or four nightmares about his family getting horrifically murdered. This was the first year Scáth had been able to create full-blown hallucinations.

Fucking family curse.

His stomach growled. Seán groaned, but pushed himself out of bed. If he really focused, he might be able to put up a front long enough to make some coffee and cereal. And then go back to bed and nap until he needed to record.

At least this year, he had some help. Marvin had seen him collapse last week, when he’d had his first hallucination. After hours of non-stop prodding, he’d finally weaseled out the truth. That made exactly one person on the planet that knew he was still dealing with this shit.

Back when he was a kid, he’d told his family about the voices and the shadows. The next few years had been frantic, trying to find some sort of “cure”. He’d eventually decided to stop being such a stressor and just fake being better.

After that, he managed to strike up a sort of symbiosis with Scáth. They would talk occasionally. He tried to indulge it every now and then; it must be boring being stuck in the head of some depressed asshole, after all. And in response, Scáth had been a bit more lenient in recent years. He’d thought maybe they were finally sort-of getting along.

Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

Jackie looked up from his textbook. “Oh hey, you’re finally up! Took you long enough.”

“Mhm.” Seán just walked over to the counter and put on a pot of coffee. He opened up the cupboard. Did he have enough energy to make oatmeal?

Jackie looked at him curiously. “Are you okay? You look pretty out of it.”

“Hmm?” Seán looked up. “What’d you say?”

Jackie stood up from the table and walked over to him. “Seriously, dude. What's up? You look like shit.”

“Feel like shit.” he replied, rubbing at his face. “I must’ve caught a bug or something. I’m dealing with it.”

“How’d you catch anything? You never leave the house!” Jackie said, smirking.

Seán shoved him playfully. “Alright, alright.” He pulled back. “Really, Jackie, I’m okay. I’ll take some Tylenol or something. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” No. This was only going to get worse. But he didn’t want to bother the others with it. He’d dealt before; he could deal now.

Jackie still looked a little skeptical. “Okay, I guess. Yell if you need anything?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m gonna go work, see ya.”

Seán walked out of the kitchen, coffee in hand, and nearly collapsed against the wall. Fuck. He needed a nap before he recorded, but none of the stuff was done up for today yet. He groaned into his mug and started the trek back upstairs. 20 minutes. He could rush out a thumbnail in 20 minutes and then he could sleep. Maybe.

Belatedly, he realized he never actually ate anything. Oh well. The day was already started, and he was not walking back down those stairs again.

Only four more weeks left of the month.

Fuck his life.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

“I’m gonna stay on my fucking bongos! Yeah!” Seán smiled, leaning back. “That should be all good, Robin, but tell me if the audio levels need tweaking.” With that, he leaned forward and turned off the camera. The game was much better than the last two, he had to give it that. Still not as good as the first, though. He clicked upload, putting the footage in his dropbox.

The cockroaches swarming his arm chittered. He looked down at them and sighed. “You done?” he asked, brushing them off. He ground a few under his feet for good measure, then got up and headed to the kitchen.

Marvin and Henrik were there already, testing another one of Hen’s hypotheses. Something about manipulating objects and line of sight, he wasn’t sure on the details. Seán ducked under the floating twigs and grabbed some yogurt. He frowned when he heard a thump behind him. Turning around, he asked, “You guys okay-”

Both men were on the floor. Marvin was gurgling, his throat slit. Henrik was motionless, a bleeding hole in his forehead. A man with a knife stood over them, face shadowed.

Seán dropped his bowl with a clatter. He backed up against the wall. “No, no, no,” he panted. “What did you- Who are you?”

The man turned to him, head cocking in curiosity. Then he took a step forward.

“Get away from me!” Seán shrieked, grabbing a steak knife off the counter and holding it out in front of himself. “Don’t come any closer!”

The man didn’t listen. He strode forward, reaching toward Seán. Seán screamed as the man grabbed him. “No, please!”

“Seán!”

He lowered his hands, and suddenly Henrik was knelt in front of him. “Seán, look at me, try to breathe.” Henrik spoke slowly, reassuringly.

“What...Schneep?” Seán glanced back to the center of the room. “But you were...where did…”

“Look at me.” Henrik said. “Just focus here.” He set a hand on Seán’s forehead. “You feel warm. You did not actually recover from that virus, did you?”

“...No.”

“I see.” Henrik stood up. “I will run out to the pharmacy. Marvin, watch Seán.” He stalked out of the kitchen, muttering to himself.

Marvin slowly sat down next to Seán, who had buried his face in his hands. He pulled off his mask and ran a hand through his hair. “Bad one?”

Seán didn’t speak for a moment, instead leaning into Marvin’s side. “Yeah…”

There was silence for a while longer. Eventually, Seán spoke up again. “That was the second one today.”

“What? I thought you said-”

“I did. It’s never been able to do that before.”

Marvin rubbed at his face. “Fuck, man. What should we do?”

“Dunno.”

Marvin bit his lip. “I know what you said before, but maybe we should find someone else. I’m kinda out of my depth here.” “Mhm...”

“Have you thought about maybe getting an exorci-”

“No!”

Seán pulled away from Marvin. “No, please, I can’t..I can’t do that again. Please don’t make me.”

Marvin reeled back, surprised. “Are you okay?”

Seán shook his head. “I don’t- we can’t. Please don’t. They hurt so much.”

“Hey, it was just an idea.” Marvin leaned back against the counter. “What d’you suggest, then?”

Seán didn’t reply. He was too focused on steadying his breathing again. “I can’t see an exorcist.” he repeated.

Marvin looked worried. “Okay, I got it, jeez.” He shuffled away from Seán a bit. “Now what?”

“I don’t know.”

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Things only got worse from there.

The hallucinations got more frequent and more violent. Seán was trying to weather them, but he was often bedridden with nausea now, and there was no distraction in his room.

He knew Jackie and Henrik were getting suspicious. Hen had prescribed something stronger after the first week, some sort of antibiotic. Seán had just been flushing them down the toilet. He didn’t want a fucked up immune system on top of all this.

Which led to now, the four of them all sitting together in the living room. Seán couldn’t stop fidgeting, and he could see Marvin glancing at the others, concerned. He sucked in a breath, scrunched his shoulders, and spoke.

“I’m cursed.”

Jackie and Henrik both squinted at him. “Come again?” Henrik asked.

Seán closed his eyes. “My family’s got a curse and I got stuck with it and this thing is always haunting me and usually it’s fine but it gets worse in October but not this bad so this is unusual and I keep hallucinating and I feel like shit I’m sorry.” He looked back up.

Jackie looked both confused and on edge, like he usually did around new magic. Henrik, on the other hand, looked perfectly neutral. “I think I maybe misheard, Jack, you said you were cursed and haunted? This is why you have been so off lately?”

Seán nodded. “I don’t know why it’s so much worse this year. It won’t talk to me either, I’ve only seen what it shows me. It’s like it’s...I don’t know. Acting like it’s angry at me or something?”

“And this is normal for you? This talking to it and seeing it?”

“Yeah.” Seán frowned. “I feel like that’s not really the important part here though? I just wanted to let you guys know why I’m all messed up right now. Marvin and I are trying to figure it out.” He waved an arm in Marvin’s direction.

Henrik turned sharply. “You are?”

Marvin glared back. “Just cause I’m not gifted in healing doesn’t mean I can’t help.” He exhaled. “It’s a little hard to research. But I’m getting some wards and potions and stuff. That should keep it under control.”

“I see.”

Jackie broke in, “How can I help, though? I mean, obviously I’m useless with the magic stuff, but there’s gotta be something I can do, right? You’re also just sick, so I could help with food and cleaning and shit.”

“And what about a doctor?’ Henrik asked.

“Are you serious?” Marvin replied, standing up. “Your friend just told you he’s been dealing with something that would drive a lesser man insane, and you’re so focused on your pride that you get upset he didn’t come to you?”

“In case you didn’t notice, I said ‘a doctor’. Not ‘me’.” Henrik pushed himself up as well. “This has nothing to do with my pride.”

“Guys, please.” Seán said, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s a magic thing, Hen, a doctor isn’t going to help. They sure as shit didn’t help when I was a kid.”

“Well, then they were a bad doctor.” Henrik walked over and sat next to Seán. “Please Jack, let me call a taxi. It’s a Thursday, the emergency room won’t be busy.” he pleaded, resting an arm on his shoulder.

Seán leaned into it. “I’ll be okay. October’s half over anyway, this’ll be done after Halloween. I can deal with it,” he said, smiling.

Henrik looked like he wanted to say more, but Seán got up before he could. “I’m gonna try to get some sleep. Night all.”

Jackie trailed behind him. “You need help up the stairs?”

“No, I’ve got it, thanks.” Seán gave him a side-hug. “Don’t worry about me, it’s supposed to be the other way around.”

Jackie snorted. “You’re not my fuckin’ dad.”

“Ehh, dad, guardian who’s known you three months, potaeto, potahto.” Seán ruffled Jackie’s hair. “Night, doofus.”

“Night, goober.”

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Scáth was in his fucking videos.

Seán stared in horror at his monitor. He’d noticed some sort of buzz on Tumblr earlier in the month, but today something had gotten everybody excited enough that the tag was trending. That made him work up the energy to log on; he’d been too tired for social media otherwise. He’d been greeted with an overload of gifs and art, all of some weird, glitchy demon version of himself.

In retrospect, Robin’s text about ‘extra editing’ made sense now.

“What the fuck!?”

Seán looked around his room wildly. “Scáth!” he yelled. “What the everloving shit? What have you done?”

There was no answer. He slumped back in his seat. Maybe it was lack of sleep or something, but he started crying. The channel was his safe place, his people, and now this thing was trying to worm into it. He hated it. He hated it, and he hated how terrible he felt, and he hated this stupid curse. More tears rolled down his face, faster than he could rub them away.

There was a knock at the door. “Jack?” Henrik asked. “I heard you yelling from downstairs. Is all okay?”

When he didn’t answer, Henrik opened the door and came in. Taking in Seán’s state, he gently pulled him out of the chair and into a hug on the floor. “Is okay, my friend. It will be alright.” Seán hugged him tighter, unable to stop crying.

They sat there for some time, Henrik rubbing his back and calmly reassuring him. Seán burrowed into his arms. Hen’s shirt smelled like lavender, and soon he could feel his tears soaking into it. He didn’t move though. The embrace was warm, safe and grounding, just what he needed. Henrik was good at that, physically comforting in exactly the right way,

“What happened?” Henrik eventually asked.

“Scáth is getting into my videos somehow.”

“You saw something in your videos?”

Seán nodded. “I’m so sick of this.”

Henrik pulled back. “Do you want to speak of something else? Have other things been happening?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like I’m always being watched, y’know? Then I keep seeing things out of the corner of my eye but I don’t know if they’re visions or just my imagination. And I keep losing time? Like I zone out and suddenly it’s ten minutes later.” He shuddered. “I don’t know if that’s it, like, possessing me or something.”

Henrik nodded. “Are you ever aware of that? Having a feeling like something else is controlling your body?” he continued.

Seán snorted bitterly. “God, don’t give him ideas,” he said, closing his eyes. He could still feel the tears dripping out of them, slow and sluggish.

“And do you feel like your thoughts are all out of order?”

“I mean yeah, I guess, but I think I’m just tired…” The situation clicked, and Seán stiffened. “Henrik, are you trying to fucking diagnose me? What the hell?” he snapped.

Henrik pulled away fully, looking affronted. “Jack, this is a serious situation. What you have-”

“What I have isn’t something you would have studied! Did you not believe me this entire time?”

“I...what you are experiencing feels real to you, I do not mean to trivialize that. But this...it is dangerous to write off all scientific help, Jack. A professional could help you figure out what this is.”

Seán glared at him. “I know what it is. I told you.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Is this what you’ve been wanting to talk with me about the last few days? Is that all you came up here for?”

Henrik tried to reach out again, but Seán swatted his hand away. “No, of course not! I was worried about you!”

“Yeah, cause you think I’m fucking crazy!” Seán scooted away from him. “Fuck off!”

“Seán, I-”

“Leave me alone!”

Henrik paused, but then stood up. “Alright. Please, call one of the others if you need anything.” He walked out of the room, but stopped in the doorway. “I am sorry. For overstepping.”

Seán didn’t answer, so Henrik left and closed the door behind him. For some reason, he did a one-eighty in the hallway and tried to come back in, but by then Seán had already summoned a gust of air to turn the lock. Eventually, Henrik gave up and went downstairs.

When he was sure Hen was gone, Seán pushed up and headed to the bathroom. He could feel something sticky and flaky clinging to his cheeks.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

He pointedly ignored the book about schizophrenia on the coffee table the next morning.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

“Hey, you in there?”

Seán groaned, pulling his pillow off his head. Marvin stood in the doorway, holding a steaming cup of...well, he hoped it was coffee, but the logical side of him knew it wasn’t.

“Dude, you can see me, what d’you mean, ‘you in there’?”

Marvin sat down across from where he was laying, putting the mug on the side table. “You never know, it could’ve been like yesterday.”

Seán pushed himself up, shakily, until he was sitting against the headboard. “Huh? What happened yesterday?”

“You went unresponsive for a while, remember?”

“No.”

Marvin bit his lip. “Oh. Well, you did. Just sat there staring for like, eight hours. None of us could get you to react to anything.”

Seán couldn’t think of a response to that beyond, “Fuck.” He gestured to the mug. “What is it this time?”

Marv leaned back. “Chamomile and Valerian, mostly. Tried to cast some charms on it, but we’ll have to see about those.”

Seán peered down into it, looking at the three lumps sitting in the draught. “And...marble?”

“Nah, just pebbles from the creek.”

“If those break apart and I get a mouthful of sand, I’m punching you.”

“Quit bitching and drink it already.” Marvin sat up. “Oh, I brought some Ibuprofen, too. It’s been six hours, right?” he asked, pulling two tablets from his shirt pocket.

“Yeah, thanks.” Seán reached over to grab them. He pulled a mouthful of liquid from the cup and shook it around the room quickly to cool it, before drinking it out of the air to swallow the pills.

“Well, at least your magic’s more under control?”

“Mhm,” Seán replied, taking a sip from the cup. “Still crazy nauseous though.”

“Well, Henrik could have something for that…” Marvin said, trailing off as Seán stiffened. He folded his arms. “You two are going to have to make up eventually.”

“Coming from you.”

Marvin scowled. “Hey, that’s different!” He fiddled with a strand of hair. “You two are close, I...look, just, he cares about you. Don’t fuck that up.”

Seán sighed. “Can we not do this right now? Please? My head’s hurting like a bitch”

“I guess.” Marvin stood up, brushing off his pants. “I’ve got to run to the store. Let me know if that one helps more than the others, yeah?”

“Will do.” Seán answered, burrowing back under his blankets.

Marvin flicked off the lights as he left, and Seán turned to block out noise with his pillow again. Before he could, however, there was a light knock on the door.

He pushed himself back up to a sitting position. “Did’ja need something else- oh. Hey, Jackie.”

The teen pushed in further at the acknowledgement. “Hey Jack.” He wavered by the side of the bed until Seán patted the spot next to him. Looking relieved, he sat down.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know, just...how are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess. Why?”

Jackie exhaled shakily. He fidgeted a bit in place. “I..”

Seán caught on and opened up his arms. Jackie immediately fell into them and started crying. “Last night was horrible,” he said between sobs. “I thought you were gone. I thought you were going to be a vegetable and we’d have to put you in the hospital. I thought at any moment you might just stop breathing. I never want to deal with that again.”

Seán tightened his hug. “Jackie, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled.

“You just stopped talking in the middle of a sentence and wouldn’t move. Nothing I did would get you to wake up. I tried shaking you and screaming at you and Hen tried pinching and prodding you and Marvin tried spells and nothing worked. Eventually we had to keep on doing normal stuff with you just sat there and that was even worse. It was...we couldn’t…” Jackie burrowed his face into Seán’s neck. “I was so scared,” he whispered.

Seán stared at the opposite wall. “I had no idea.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t know, I thought I just slept through yesterday afternoon. I don’t even remember going downstairs. Marv mentioned something but-oh God.” He closed his eyes, feeling tears rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t remember.”

Jackie sobbed again. “No no no no-”

Seán didn’t reply. He just felt numb. Hallucinations, panic attacks, fainting, all of those he could deal with. They were awful, but they were over with quick enough and then he could get back to normal. But this, completely checking out, for hours at a time?

What happened to my soul during that? Where was I?

Seán was snapped back into the present when he heard Jackie hyperventilating.

“Woah, hey, Jay, look at me.” He pulled back and lifted up Jackie’s face. “You’re okay. I’m okay.”

Jackie shook off his hand. “Are you though?”

Seán’s breath hitched. Jackie rubbed at his face, shuffling back a bit. “What if this doesn’t stop after Halloween? What if you just keep getting worse and worse until…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but they both knew what he meant.

“I won’t.” Seán said firmly. “He’ll be gone after Samhain, I promise. That’s how it works.”

Jackie looked unsure, but didn’t argue.

“And I mean, failing that, we could just end it all.” Seán shrugged.

Jackie reeled back. “What?!”

“Kill myself. End it. Just stop. No more of this and I get control of the situation.” Seán leaned back with a smile. “Wouldn’t that be nice? No responsibility, no pain, no anything. Just nothingness and an empty body left over.”

“What are you talking about?”

He looked over. “Wouldn’t that be nice?” he repeated. “I bet you’d really enjoy it.”

Jackie got up off the bed. “I’m getting Henrik. Something’s wrong.”

Humming contemplatively, he got up as well. Jackie backed away from him, bristling. He turned and rummaged around in his bedside table. “It’s a shame you’re wearing a green hoodie today. We could have had a nice Deadpool scenario going on. That’s what you want, right? To be a superhero.” He pulled out the large butcher’s knife. “When you mix green and red, you just get a gross lookin’ brown.”

Jackie bolted for the door. He’d almost reached it when a gust of air slammed it shut. He tried the doorknob, but quickly pulled away. “Ow! What the fuck?” He cradled his burnt hand as the knob glowed, then began to slowly melt. Jackie turned back to Him in horror. He smiled. The teen was so scared and desperate, it was hilarious. Even funnier, though, was the sadness in his eyes. That’s what came with loss and grief, right? How silly, he wasn’t gone! He grabbed the teen’s shoulder, throwing him to the floor. He knelt over him, a knee on his chest to keep him down. “Hello!”

Jackie was crying now, breaths coming uneven and whiny. “Why, what, who are you?” he gasped.

He hummed. “Let’s see, how to do this.” He looked over at the knife in his hands. “I don’t think this can get through a skull. Chest it is!” He grinned. “You’ll like it! Empty and painless and out of my way.”

He stabbed. Jackie screamed.

He stabbed, Jackie screamed.

He stabbed, Jackie whimpered.

He stabbed. Jackie didn’t respond.

He looked up. The door was open. Someone else screamed.

Standing in the entrance were two other men, the magician and the doctor. More fun!

He stood up, allowing Henrik to run to Jackie. Marvin raised his hands, and vines sprouted around His arms, binding them together.

Henrik frantically buzzed around Jackie, attempting to stem the bleeding, calling 999, turning him on his side into recovery position. “You’re too late,” He spoke up helpfully. “He’s all cleaned out. Nice and empty and gone!”

Henrik kept trying to find a pulse, started CPR as Marvin stood by, horrified. It took a very long time, (frankly He was rather bored by the end of it) but eventually the doctor stopped. “Herr Gott nochmal...” Henrik looked up at the magician, eyes full of tears. “I couldn’t...he’s…” A sob cut him off as he buried his face in his hands. Marvin fell to his knees, expressionless.

“Are you done?” He burned through his plant-handcuff, rubbing at His wrists.

Both men turned to look at Him, furious. “What the fuck have you done?” Marvin yelled at him. The magician strode forward, eyes glowing. “You’re goddamn insane! We should have kicked you out after your first hallucination, you psycho!”

“You can’t kick me out, the apartment lease is under my name.”

“How could you-”

He slit Marvin’s throat.

The magician hit the floor with a gurgle. Henrik screamed, moving towards the door, but He glitched over on top of him. “Hi!” he said with a smile. “Believe me now?”

Blood squirted all over his pajama pants.

“Jack.”

He smiled, surveying the three corpses. No one but Him now.

“Jack!”

He sobbed. How could he have done something like this?

“Seán!”

He jolted.

Seán was sitting back on the bed, still swaddled in blankets. Jackie was shaking him, a hand on either shoulder. “Please, please answer me!” he begged.

“...Jackie?”

Jackie’s arms dropped. “Holy shit. I...fuck. You- you just started screaming, I had no clue what was going on, I thought you’d checked out again-” He breathed harshly. “You’re here, though.”

Seán stared at him. “You’re alive?” he murmured, reaching up a hand to cup Jackie’s face.

Jackie looked confused. “Yeah? I’m fine, it’s you we should be worried about.”

“You’re alive,” he repeated, pressing his other hand to the teen’s unmarred chest. “Thank fuck, I thought he...I thought I..” Another sob cut him off, and he curled in on himself.

Jackie hesitantly wrapped his arms around Seán. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Seán didn’t answer. He just kept crying, letting Jackie hug him.

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The next morning, Seán had had enough.

He’d whipped up his recordings as quick as possible, not bothering to check for the glitches he knew were there. After eating as much yogurt and ginger ale as he could stomach (about half a cup of each), he stumbled back up to his bedroom.

Henrik had a 10 hour shift today, so he didn’t have to worry about being disturbed for a while yet. Seán half-heartedly kicked the clothes on the floor toward the hamper, then pushed Schneep’s scattered papers and notes into a pile next to the desk. Having cleared enough space, he set one of his pillows down on the floor between their beds and laid down. He’d had problems in the past, falling out of bed when he did this.

He fidgeted for a while trying to get comfortable (and calm his nerves). Hopefully, the two of them could strike up some deal, something that would make Scáth happy and make next October more bearable. He didn’t think he’d be able to come out of another month like this unscathed.

Breathing deeply, Seán closed his eyes and tried to blank out, focusing only on his thoughts. When he opened them again, he was in a black nothingness.

“Scáth, I know you’re there.”

He took a few steps forward. “Don’t ignore me, asshole. We need to talk.”

“Oh, do we now? So when you ask for something, I’m to respond right away?

Seán whipped around, furious. “What the hell is wrong wi-” He stopped abruptly.

Scáth looked like….him.

They’d met like this before, a few times. If either was particularly pissed off, this served as a place for parlay, or whatever. But all of those times, Scáth had been, well, a shadow; a dark green, gaseous silhouette. Now, it looked almost human. Ripped jeans, combat boots, gauges, and a shock of green hair. And his face. It was as if Seán had an edgier, demonic twin.

Scáth grinned at him with a mouthful of nearly normal teeth. “You like the new style?”

Seán took a step back. “Why do you look like that?” he asked, voice wavering.

“Oh, you know. Reasons.” He took a step forward. “Gosh, Jack, you look terrible. Something keeping you up at night?”

“Fuck off.” Seán spat, fists tightening. “What do you want?”

“Wasn’t it you that called for me? I didn’t come to this wanting anything!” His tone was mocking, patronizing.

“You know what I mean. What happened with you? Suddenly you’re, fucking like, attacking me and making me hallucinate, disassociate, whatever, making me sick, looking like me? And talking in full sentences, what happened to the ominous one word thing?” Seán gripped at his hair. “Did I do something to piss you off? Is that what this is, some revenge thing mixed with your fucked up interests? What do you want, Scáth, I’m at the end of my rope here.”

Scáth laughed. “What, you think I haven’t wanted to do this our whole life? I’ve been dreaming of this since day one, McLoughlin! You, half insane, begging and pleading, surrounded by people who want you institutionalized,”

“Don’t-they don’t want-”

“Oh, is that right? Look me in the eyes and tell me your parents wouldn’t be locking you in another priest’s basement if we were still living with them. Tell me that doctor isn’t going to drop you in a psych ward the moment he has the chance.”

Seán couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze. Instead, he looked down, scrubbing at tears. “Why now, then? I don’t understand, what changed? What did I do?”

Scáth knelt down to his level, still grinning. “Not a goddamn thing. I just finally got the strength I needed.” His smile turned into a snarl. “Do you have any idea what this is like? My line was powerful enough to force a Taoiseach onto his own sword. And suddenly, because someone’s family stopped having kids for two centuries,” he spat, “I’m stuck with a pathetic, whimpering, traitorous, English speaking c̛̹h̛̪͙i̙l̬̘̫ͅd̪̱̜̤̤, and not even enough power to manifest in the real world.” Scáth grabbed the front of Seán’s shirt, hoisting both of them up. “I was going to bring this land to its knees, bring us back to where we should stand, and instead I got landed with Y̶̛̻̤͕͟O͇͕̜͈̖U̹̕.” He dropped Seán a few inches, wrapping his claws around his neck.

“Shit- Let go of me!”

Scáth snarled. “Here’s a secret I figured out, Jackaboy.” He leaned in, black eyes suddenly glowing a brilliant green. “That community of yours has more power than you could ever imagine. And their ideas! Holy shit, you should see what some of them come up with. They’ve got creation bursting at the seams. Give ‘em a few crumbs, they’ll make the loaf of bread themselves.” He grinned, teeth spiky and horrible. “Say hello to your newest figment.”

Seán was thrown to the floor. He pushed himself up, rubbing at his throat. “Scáth...please, please tell me you didn’t,” he gasped.

Scáth grinned wide. “I prefer Anti, thanks.”

“Oh, God.”

The demon snorted. “He didn’t help your ancestors, buddy, and he sure as hell ain’t helping you.”

“No, there’s no way, you couldn’t have…”

“You should hear them, Seán. ‘Ooh, wouldn’t this be cool, what if he did something for Halloween, what do you think that character would be like.’” He nudged Seán with his foot. “I’m just giving the people what they want!”

“You’re manipulating them to gain power.” Seán growled.

“Eh, same difference.”

“Scáth...just stop, we can figure-”

The demon glitched, and suddenly he was holding Seán up by the shirt again. “I told you to call me A̛̹n̷̫͚̱̗͕t̥͓͡i̝̻!” he yelled.

Seán wriggled in his grasp. “Like hell I will.”

“Oh, that’s how it is? You’ll use the kid’s new name, but not mine? Favouritism isn’t a good look, Jack.”

“Leave him out of this. Leave them all out of this, I’m the one you’re bound to!” Seán wrenched sideways, forcing Anti to drop him. He pushed himself back up to stand opposite.

Anti shrugged. “And?”

Seán gulped. “I- you can’t, please. Please. You can do whatever you want to me, fine, just don’t hurt them.”

Anti stared at him blankly for a few moments. Seán met his gaze, tearful, still gasping for air.

Then the demon laughed. It started low, but raised in pitch and fervor, bouncing around the space without rhyme or reason. Seán glanced around as it echoed around his head.

Anti glitched into his face again. “Well, you offered. How can I refuse such a generous invitation?”

“Huh?” Seán staggered backwards, replaying the conversation in his head. He froze as the weight of his words sunk in. “Oh, God, no. No no nonono…”

Anti wiped at his eyes. “Like a fuckin’ fiddle, holy shit,” he chuckled. “And they say loyalty can’t be a fatal flaw.” The demon waved with a flourish. “Have fun over the next few days, Jack, there’s only so much more time till Samhain.”

Seán surged upwards, knocking his head into Marvin’s.

“Ah, shit!” Marvin fell backwards onto his hands.

Henrik turned around from the desk, looking relieved. “Seán! Thank goodness, I couldn’t wake you, but it looked intentional this time, so I called Marvin up.”

Seán ignored him, turning to Marvin, panicked. The magician looked back, rubbing his forehead. “Seán? What’s wrong?”

He swallowed. “I fucked up. I fucked up real bad.”

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

“No wait, turn it that way a bit...yes, there!” Jackie exclaimed triumphantly as he and Marvin maneuvered the table into the recording room.

Seán entered behind them, carrying a pumpkin and bag of tools. “I’m sorry, if I’d known it wouldn’t’ve fit through the door, I would have asked you to grab the other table.”

“It’s fine,” Marvin reassured him, leaning back to stretch. “I think the other one is even bigger, anyhow.”

Seán set his things down, unpacking and laying out the knives. “Well, thanks then. I can take it from here, guys.”

He noticed Jackie and Marv glance at each other. “You sure about this? If you space out or slip while carving, you could really hurt yourself,” Jackie said

Seán sighed internally. “I’m good!” he replied, turning around to face the other two. “I have to film something for Halloween anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.” Jackie and Marvin’s grimaces only deepened at that.

He leaned against the table behind him. “I think that last spell you tried really worked this time. I haven’t felt this good since September!”

Marvin’s eyes widened. “Wait, are you serious?”

He smiled wide. “Yeah, I wouldn’t lie about that stuff. You know what I told you, he said this week was going to be hell, but I haven’t seen a thing! Just heard one or two, that’s nothing compared to before.”

Marvin seemed shocked at that idea. “Wow. I uh. Didn’t think we’d actually figure this out.” He was trying to hide it, but Seán could see the subtle joy in his eyes.

“Hug?” Seán asked, arms opening. Marvin nodded loosely wrapping around him, smiling all the while. After a moment, Seán gestured for Jackie to join them. The teen complied happily.

The three of them stood there, huddled together in the recording room. After a bit, Seán pulled back. “I really do have to get this done, though. It’ll be an hour, tops, then I’ll come back down.” He hesitated a moment, then continued, “Henrik’s going to be back soon, right? Maybe we can all go out to dinner together.”

Jackie’s grin widened even more. “Yes! Yes, please, we haven’t done something as a family since your fight.”

“Yeah, I...I wanna fix that. I’ve been treating him like garbage.”

Marvin patted his shoulder. “Good on you. Have fun recording, let us know if anything goes wrong?”

He waved his phone. “Will do. See you guys in a bit.”

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

“Okay, so the last thing you wanna do is get your knife, and you’re going to have to do fine-”

What’s happening?

Why can’t I move!?

Shush.

Oh God.

I said shut up.

Nononono, please, don’t-

They’re simple instructions Seán. Be quiet!

Stop the knife, stop the knife, stop the-

Oh for fuck’s sake. I’m going to be so glad when you’re gone.

You can’t do this, this is my body!

Not for long.

No, stop, please, stop!

Shink.

It hurts, please, I don’t want to die, it hurts, stop!

Oop, looks like it’s time to go! Say bye-bye, Seány-boy!

HELP ME!

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Marvin looked at the clock nervously. “It’s been over an hour.”

“As it was twenty minutes ago.” Henrik replied tersely, leg bouncing.

Jackie sat up abruptly. “I’m going to go check on him.”

Marv ran his hands through his hair. “You probably shouldn’t. Everyone still thinks he lives alone, he’ll have to scrap all that footage. What if he’s in the middle of something important?”

“I don’t care, I feel like something’s up. What if he spaced out again?”

Henrik bit his lip. “You said he was more or less cured.”

“We said he said he was more or less cured,” Marvin murmured.

“I’m going.” Jackie said adamantly. Before Marvin could protest further, he turned and bolted up the stairs.

He came to a stop at the end of the hallway. “Jack?” he asked, knocking. “It’s been a while, you done yet?” When there was no answer, Jackie frowned. “Seán? Everything okay?”

He tried the doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn. He banged on the door. “Seán! What’s going on?” The teen wiggled it more, worried now. “Hey! Talk to me!”

Jackie cursed under his breath when there was still no reply. “Fuck, okay. Sorry in advance, man.” He breathed deeply and steadily, trying to focus. Then he began throwing himself at the door, attempting to ram it open.

Even with all this commotion, no sound came from the recording room. Jackie picked up the pace, the doorframe beginning to creak. “Come on, come on.” Then the lock gave way, the frame splintering as Jackie forced his way in. “Yes!”

He staggered in, balance thrown off. “Seán?”

At first glance, the room appeared empty. It was dim, the curtains closed to make the set consistent. The equipment was still set up, though the lights were all off. He could smell something burnt, as if the bulbs had all blown out. There was another smell, too; something metallic. A fully carved pumpkin sat on the table, knife shoved in the top haphazardly. Both chairs were empty. No one was here.

Jackie pushed inward. There was no way Seán could have left, they would have seen him. Was he in the bathroom?

Then he heard it, barely- a hoarse wheeze, like someone was out of breath. His foot stepped in something wet, then nudged something soft. Jackie froze. He almost didn’t have the resolution to look down. But he did.

Then he screamed.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Henrik looked up quizzically at the first set of bangs. “What is he doing?”, he murmured, sitting up straight.

There was another round of bangs, followed by repeated thumps. Marvin sat up as well, glancing toward the stairs. “What, is he trying to break down the door?”

Henrik paused, listening closely. Then he pushed himself to stand quickly. “Oh for the love of- I think he is.” He rubbed at his face. “He’s going to lose us the deposit. For fuck’s sake.” He hurried out of the room, Marvin following. As they reached the bottom of the staircase, there was the sound of something cracking and the thumps stopped. Marvin slumped his head against the wall and groaned. “Really, Jackie?”

Henrik frowned, sympathizing. “I will help you all pay for damages. I should have better calmed him.”

Marvin gave a subdued thumbs up. As they turned to head back to the living room, they heard a scream. “Henrik! Help!”

Henrik bolted upstairs. Jackie was slumped against the wall opposite the recording room, staring inside. He looked absolutely horrified. His left sock was soaked with blood at the toes.

Henrik cut past him to rush into the room. He flicked on the lights and surveyed the scene. Nothing seemed out of place, but...

He checked the floor.

Seán laid limp, unmoving. His right hand loosely cradled a knife and a pool of blood stained the carpet around his head.

“Scheisse!”

Henrik dropped down to his knees, feeling for a pulse. His fingers came away wet. As he turned Seán’s head he saw the deep, jagged cut across his throat. Henrik’s heart dropped into his stomach.

He fumbled for his phone, dialing 999 while still searching for a heartbeat. He found one just as the operator picked up.

“Hello, yes, I need an ambulance right away!”

“Sir, what is your emergency?”

Marvin’s voice was in the background, likely comforting Jackie, but it was distant, muffled. Unnecessary noise in the current crisis.

Henrik wriggled out of his shirt while yelling into the phone. “My cousin has a slit throat! He is currently unconscious, has a weak heartbeat,” he paused, holding a hand above Seán’s mouth. “little airflow, hypoxia is likely. In fact, the cut is deep, a tracheal transection is possible. The injury occurred sometime in the last two hours, but I don’t know when exactly.” He placed his shirt around the neck injury. “He’s lost at least a litre and a half of blood, perhaps more.”

“Sir, can you give me an address please?”

“Ah, I am not sure exactly. Marvin?” He turned back around. Marvin had his arms around Jackie, murmuring, but he looked up when Henrik called his name. “Huh?”

“What is the apartment’s address?”

He relayed what Marvin told him to the operator. Meanwhile, he kept tabs on Seán’s pulse and breathing.

“Alright, an ambulance and Guard vehicle are on their way. Is there anything else I should know?” the operator asked.

Henrik glanced around. “Uh, the cut was made with a kitchen knife, definitely not sanitized. And-” He paused, breathing deeply. “There is no sign of a break in, and neither I nor our roommates heard anything. The wound is most likely self inflicted.” Marvin and Jackie’s heads snapped up at that, but Henrik ignored them. “He should be placed under suicide watch until we know more.”

“Had he been displaying destructive or out of character behaviours before this?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll alert the hospital’s mental health crisis team. Keep the wound covered-”

“Yes, I have a shirt on it already. I am a surgeon, I do not need advice. Thank you for your help, go give it to someone else now.”

“But-”

“Have a good evening.”

“Sir!”

Henrik hung up, slumping. “Marvin. Go get Jackie a blanket and some water. He’s having a panic attack.”

Marvin stared at him, dumbfounded. “Henrik, you don’t actually think he-”

“A blanket, Marvin.” Henrik repeated numbly. He fumbled with his phone one handed, opening the clock and placing it on Seán’s stomach. He kept one hand on Seán’s wrist and one over the wound, watching the time.

Marvin entered the room. He glanced back toward Jackie, who was now huddled in a blanket. The teen seemed to be shaking less, that was something. Marvin cleared his throat.

“Could you two go wait for the ambulance, please?” Henrik said.

Marvin wrung his hands. “Hen, he wouldn’t have-”

“Marvin.” Henrik looked up, keeping his hands in place. “Right now I need to focus on keeping him alive. Please, go wait for the ambulance.”

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Two days later, Seán hadn’t woken up.

“Not too worrisome,” Dr. Heaney had assured them. “Given the trauma, a state like this isn’t unusual. Just give him time.”

Henrik had added later, over dinner. “His pupils still respond, and he verbalizes sometimes. That is good.”

Still, he could see how worried Jackie and Marvin were. They’d all taken time off of work or school. Every possible minute was spent in the ICU, waiting for something to change.

Henrik could see the pitying looks his coworkers kept giving him. He’d brushed them off initially, when they asked about his lack of scrubs, but it was a rural hospital. Word got around. By the next day, nearly every doctor or nurse had given him an awkward shoulder pat or asked to pray for him. He could see Marvin bristle every time one of them walked by; every 10 minutes, it seemed, someone was sticking their head in the room and asking, “You three okay in here? D’ya need anything?” Frankly, Henrik was amazed Marvin hadn’t snapped at them yet.

Jackie was pacing again. He alternated between that and sitting in a chair wringing his hands. He’d be inconsolable the moment they got back to the apartment, if the last two nights were anything to go off. Henrik had tried to comfort him verbally, but he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. So he’d resorted to just holding the teen as he cried, screamed, panicked, the works. Then it was off to bed for more of the same tomorrow.

Marvin was eternally tense and pissed off. Yelling at the two of them, baristas, pizza guys, anyone not in the hospital. Henrik had given up on trying to get him to talk about his feelings. He clearly wasn’t going to express them willingly. Nothing to do but wait for the emotions to build up until they exploded out in a breakdown. Henrik just hoped the magic wouldn’t be a factor. Their landlord was mad enough about the broken door. A miniature jungle would not help their case.

Henrik himself just felt numb. He couldn’t cry, couldn’t get angry, hadn’t even felt shocked after the ambulance left. His emotions had crashed that night, and had yet to resurface. The small moments he did feel something, it was guilt over not feeling anything. He was a robot, pushing forward as his human roommates broke down around him.

This was their new cycle: wake up, eat, come to the hospital, refuse to talk to each other or anyone else, grab lunch downstairs, come back, go home, fall apart, repeat.

Henrik didn’t know how much more any of them could take.

The heart monitor started beeping rapidly. Marvin startled from his nap, blowing hair out of his face. Jackie froze, turning toward it. Henrik slowly got to his feet, crossing the room. Seán’s heart rate had picked up abruptly, jumping up as if he’d run a marathon. Henrik squinted at it. That didn’t make any sense, even if he was waking up it’d be slower…

Jackie gasped. Henrik glanced at him, but the teen was already rushing forward. “Seán?”

Sure enough, Seán’s eyes were slowly opening. He blinked, eyebrows furrowing. Henrik backed up, reaching towards the call button. Just as he touched it, a painful shock seared up his arm.

“Ow!”

“Hey!”

The doctor turned toward Jackie while he flexed his hand. Seán was grabbing Jackie’s arm firmly. It almost looked like he was digging his fingernails into the skin. Seán’s head remained slumped, looking down. “Let go, man!” Jackie protested, trying to pull away. Seán didn’t reply. His chest heaved

Henrik strode forward, reaching out to touch Seán’s shoulder. He flinched away, not looking at him. Henrik raised his arms placatingly. “Seán, try to relax around the breathing tube, you’ll hurt yourself!” Marvin was up now too, all three of them surrounding the bed.

Jackie finally wrenched himself away. Checking quickly, Henrik could see small dots of blood in his hoodie. A small part of his brain was screaming to get a nurse, but he’d been waiting for this for days. He wasn’t leaving.

Seán stared down at his hands, looking terrified. Marvin bent down, asking what happened, was it the curse, why would he hurt himself, but Seán ignored him. “I..Oh my god...” he murmured. Then he started laughing, high pitched and insane, and that…

That wasn’t right.

He shouldn't be able to talk with the tube in. How could they hear him perfectly?

The door suddenly slammed shut.

The three of them whipped around at the sudden noise.

“What the hell?” Jackie yelped. He ran to the door, trying to pull it open. Marvin’s hands began to glow. “Jay, get back!” he yelled, as a bolt of fire flew into the door. There was a flash, but when it cleared, the door was untouched.

Marvin took a step back. “What? That’s not possible!”

Jackie ran forward and began banging on the door. “Hey, we need help in here! The door’s stuck and my cousin is freaking out! Help!”

Henrik blinked. All the sound around him was muffled. The lights were too bright, why were they so bright? All he could hear was the buzzing. Buzzing coming from all around. Multicoloured lights flashed behind him. People moved and screamed in front of him. He couldn’t figure out what was going on. Any reasoning he tried was too much to stomach. Was this…

“Seán.”

Henrik whirled around and ran toward the bed. “Wait!” Marvin yelled behind him, but he ignored it. The doctor grabbed onto the side of the bed, skidding a bit.

Seán was sitting ramrod straight, staring forward. He was still laughing. Why was he laughing? How was he laughing? What on Earth was going on?

“Seán!” Henrik repeated. He reached out to grab Seán’s arm. “You need to lie back down, your body’s been through a lot.” Seán didn’t look at him. He kept staring forward. Henrik shook his arm. “Can you hear me?”

Seán’s head whipped toward him, almost inhumanly fast. He looked at Henrik, smiling around the breathing tube. “I’m not supposed to be here,” he said plainly.

“What?”

“Why am I still here? I don’t want this, I’m supposed to be done with this. I’m supposed to be dead!” He was crying now, tears streaming down his face around his constant smile.

The other three bristled. Jackie stepped forward slowly. “Seán, you can’t actually mean that-”

“I’M NOT HIM.”

All the lightbulbs in the room blew out. The heart monitor overloaded and sparked. Static screamed at a deafening level. Jackie, Marvin, and Henrik all covered their ears, wincing. When they straightened, they noticed a new silhouette, standing over Seán’s bed.

The figure looked like a man, average height and wearing all black. Meanwhile, Seán had collapsed back onto the bed, lying still. Marvin waved a hand, summoning a handful of glowing flowers. As he moved forward, the light fell across the stranger’s face.

“What?” Henrik murmured, hand flying to his face. Jackie stood frozen in horror. Marvin, however, was glaring daggers at this person. He conjured a burst of flame, preparing to strike.

The figure stared down at his body in wonder, flexing his shoulders and wiggling his fingers. “Cad a tharla?” he whispered. He jolted as the air around his hands sparked. He then turned to look across the bed to Henrik, then down at Seán.

He stretched out a hand, frowning. Abruptly, Seán’s body began to seize and Henrik could hear muffled screaming. “Stop!” he yelled, grabbing the person’s hand just as Marvin fired.

The figment’s body glitched, and suddenly Henrik had a fist to his temple. He reeled to the side as Marvin’s flame flew past and scorched the wall. Henrik stared. “What- how did you?”

“Amach leat.” Marvin growled, raising a hand again.

The person cocked a head to the side. “Cad atá tú ag dul a dhéanamh, a bhuachaill deas? Ní féidir leat mise a bhualadh.”

“Amach leat.” Marvin repeated.

The figure shrugged. “Cibé. Is maith an rud é tú a fheiceáil ag úsáid tine arís.”

Marvin’s scowl deepened. He threw another fireball, but the person smiled, glitched, and disappeared. Henrik yelped, ducking down to avoid being hit.

“Fucker.” Marvin muttered.

Jackie unfroze. “What the hell was that?!” he shrieked, waving his arms around.

Henrik uncovered his head. He stood up slowly, looking at Marvin. “That...was that?”

The magician opened his mouth, looking angry, but both of them were interrupted by a strangled noise coming from the bed.

Seán’s eyes were open. They bolted around frantically, and his chest heaved. Henrik grabbed his hand. “Relax, let it breathe for you. You’re safe, you’re in the hospital.” Seán vocalized, panicked. Henrik squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, you’re okay..” His eyes drifted over to the equipment. The heart monitor was broken, beeping intermittently. Thankfully, the ventilator was still operating. Henrik looked up at Jackie, who was standing at Seán’s other side. “Can you go get a nurse?” he asked.

Jackie’s head shot up. “What? But the door-”

“It’s probably fine now.” Marvin said tersely. He was standing with his arms crossed, glaring at Henrik. Henrik looked away quickly, focusing on Seán. “Please, try to calm down. You’ll be okay, no one here will let anything happen to you. Here, squeeze my hand,” he soothed. He jerked his head toward the door. “Jackie, go.”

The teen hesitated, then took off down the hall. Marvin and Henrik could hear him yelling for help, quieting as he ran further. Marvin stepped up to take Jackie’s spot next to the bed. He avoided looking at Henrik, instead grabbing Seán’s other hand. He didn’t say anything, just held it.

Jackie and a nurse came bolting back into the room. The woman looked around the room, at the three of them, the glitching monitors, the scorch marks. She grabbed her pager, typed something into it, then approached them. “What happened? Why are the walls...are they burnt!?”

“I don’t know, the electronics went on the fritz and it seems like something in the walls burnt.” Henrik blurted out.

“What on earth would have caused that?” She said, shaking her head. Then her eyes widened. “Henrik, your cheek!”

Henrik raised his hands, dropping Seán’s grip. “Ah, it is nothing! I ran into the door at home. It’s been stressful, you know, I wasn’t looking.”

Her eyes narrowed, then darted down to Seán’s panicking form. “Alright, out, all of you.”

“But we-” Jackie spoke up.

“Out, now. This isn’t safe and we need to work. Heaven knows it’ll be enough work stabilizing and moving him already.” She pointed toward the door sternly.

“Don’t fight right now.” Henrik whispered. Marvin’s mouth snapped close. The nurse herded the others out of the room. The last thing he heard was “I need Doctor Heaney, the crisis team, and a maintenance worker in Room 072. Yes, all at once! Hey, it’s alright, honey, you’re safe-” And then the door clicked shut.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

When they got home that night, Jackie found the video. They had watched it, morbid curiosity overtaking them. At the climax, Henrik dropped the phone in shock and Jackie had to run to the bathroom to vomit. Marvin walked over to the couch and started throwing pillows and blankets, furious but silent.

Henrik found himself hyperventilating. He tried to speak, but couldn’t get the words out. “How did, he didn’t, upload, people will, have to take it down!” he stuttered.

“We can’t.”

Jackie stood in the doorway, still looking sick. “I tried to delete it on Seán’s computer. The button isn’t even there.”

Henrik stared at him. “What, you, how, you know, when did-” He tried to take a few deep breaths. “You know his password?”

“Jesus fuck, Henrik, priorities.” Marvin spat from behind him. The magician pushed past Henrik into the hall. He pulled on his sneakers.

Henrik and Jackie followed him. “Where are you going? The hospital said we can’t go back until Wednesday.” Jackie said.

“Pharmacy.”

“Why?”

Marvin didn’t look at them as he zipped up his coat. “We can’t just let that be without any follow up. I’m going to go get some clippers and dye.”

Henrik’s jaw dropped. “You said you’ve been growing your hair out for years!”

“Priorities, Henrik.” Marvin slammed the door behind him.

When he got back, he went straight to the bathroom, ignoring either of them. Henrik confiscated Jackie’s phone after the teen had another panic attack looking at Tumblr. An hour later, he heard the door upstairs slam. An hour again, and the door opened, someone crossed the hall, and it slammed again. Henrik opened YouTube on his phone. Sure enough, there was another video up on the channel. The thumbnail featured “Jack” smiling happily. Unharmed. As Henrik put down the phone, he heard a guttural scream come from Marvin’s room. All the plants on the windowsill withered and crumbled to dust. Henrik merely leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

He couldn't go back into the shared bedroom, not now. So he might as well try to get some sleep here.

Henrik spent the next twelve hours staring at the ceiling and trying desperately not to think.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

They stood awkwardly outside the room. No one wanted to go in, not after what happened last time.

“The receptionist said this one, right?”

“Yes.”

No one moved.

“Heaney said he’s been back to a normal sleep schedule. He’s probably awake.”

“That is good.”

Marvin ruffled his newly shorn hair. Jackie shifted his weight, fidgeting in place.

“So uh…”

“Hm?”

Henrik scratched the back of his neck.

Jackie dropped his hands. “Fuck it,” he said, grabbing the doorknob.

The door swung open. They stared in, not moving.

Seán stared back at them. The new room was brighter, with more windows, and it made him look much less pale. He was lying propped up by the hospital bed. The breathing tube had been replaced with an oxygen mask. He had several drips running into his arm. Two sets of handcuffs secured his hands to the rails of the bed.

He smiled slightly and waved as much as the cuffs would let him.

Jackie was the first to break away. He entered cautiously. “Seán?” he asked quietly, reaching the bed. Seán nodded. He sat up, reaching out a hand. Jackie grabbed it in a flash. He stared for a few seconds more, biting his lip. Then he lunged, pulling Seán into a tight hug. Seán let out a breathy laugh, reciprocating as best he could.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Jackie sobbed. “So fucking glad.”

Henrik and Marvin walked in as well. Marvin’s face darkened as he looked at the cuffs. Henrik went over to the side and pulled two chairs over from the wall. “We don’t have enough for everyone, sorry.”

Jackie hopped onto the foot of the bed. Henrik passed on a chair to Marvin, then set his own on Seán’s opposite side. Seán’s eyes widened as he got a good look at Marvin. He opened his mouth, but Henrik was quick to interrupt. “Don’t even think about speaking. That will only give you more time in here.”

Seán closed his mouth and resorted to just pointing, at Marvin’s hair and then his own.

“Yeah,” Marvin said. “Don’t worry about it. We needed an emergency video for the channel. Besides, this way I can fill in until you get out of here.” He looked down at the cuffs. “Are you okay with those on?”

Seán paled. He made a so-so motion with his hand, but his eyes were panicked. Marvin quickly grabbed the hand and squeezed firmly.

Henrik cleared his throat. “I brought your laptop.” Seán perked up. Henrik dug into his bag and pulled it out. “I cleared it with your doctor, it’s fine as long as you don’t have the charging cables.”

“Oh!” said Jackie. “You guys gotta see this video the Grumps did recently, it’s so good.”

Seán unlocked the laptop, then passed it over to Jackie. Soon, they were huddled up together, falling down a YouTube rabbit hole.

They were interrupted by a knock. A nurse stood in the doorway. “Sorry to bother you,” he said sheepishly. “Just making the rounds.” He stepped in. “How’re you doing, Mr. McLoughlin? Any pain from the IVs?”

Seán shook his head. “What about your throat?” He shook his head again. The nurse checked some of the drip bags. “Alright, your next dose is in a few hours, but call someone if the pain gets bad again, alright?” Seán nodded.

The nurse turned to the others. “You guys haven’t had any problems, have you?” he asked quietly.

“What d’ya mean?” replied Jackie.

“Well, he hasn’t, ah,” the nurse gestured to Henrik’s cheek. “You know?”

Seán’s eyes widened. He looked at Henrik’s bruised face, then to the nurse, then back to Henrik. Then he raised a shaky hand to point at himself.

“It’s alright!” Henrik said quickly. “You weren’t yourself! I am fine!”

“Why is he in handcuffs?” Marvin interrupted, arms crossed.

The nurse looked dumbfounded. “Are you serious- I literally just-” He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “With the sudden move and all this equipment, we couldn’t ensure his safety without them. Or ours,” he added under his breath.

Marvin’s scowl deepened. He moved to stand up, but Seán grabbed his hand. He shook his head, eyes wide. Marvin slowly sat back down, still tense.

The nurse looked uneasy. “Okay...well, if that’s all, I’ll leave you all be for now.” With that, he left down the hall.

Marvin watched him go testily. Then he rounded back on Seán. “You’re okay with this!?”

“I’m not safe to be around.” Seán whispered hoarsely. He didn’t meet any of their eyes.

Marvin deflated at that. Jackie and Henrik shot each other a look. The latter got up and moved to the door. He glanced out into the hall before closing the door and walking back. “Seán, you literally weren’t yourself. Some...some thing came out of you and attacked me.”

Jackie nodded. "It was, like, a shadowy, angsty, demon you."

Seán blanched. Henrik took a deep breath. "Is that what your demon looks like?" Seán nodded. Henrik buried his face in his hands. "God, I'm so sorry."

Seán patted his arm. He then turned to Marvin and made a 'continue' motion.

Marvin sighed. "Honestly, there's not much more to it. It showed up, blew out the electronics, glitched around a bit, taunted me, and left."

Seán made a motion toward himself. "No, not back into you, just disappeared. Poof." Marvin answered.

Seán looked sick. He opened his mouth again.

"I don't want to hear anything out of your mouth, especially if it is an apology for something out of your control." Henrik said without looking up.

Seán slumped back, taking a deep breath. Then he made a gathering motion with his hands. Jackie stared at him for a second before going "Oh!" and shuffling over to curl into Seán's side. He then looked expectantly at Marvin and Henrik.

They spoke up at the same time. “No, you guys do your thing, I don’t want to ruin that-” and “I doubt we all would fit, Marvin can take the other side, I’ll just stay here-”

Seán leveled a look at them. Jackie snickered into his hand.

Henrik and Marvin both squirmed, neither moving for a moment. Then the magician huffed. “Alright, fine, move over.” he said, shoving the bed railing down. Seán gasped as he was pulled sideways with it.

“Ah, shit!” Marvin caught him. “Fuck, right, sorry.” He raised it back up and let Seán get his balance. Henrik laughed as he lowered the other rail slowly.

It was clumsy, but eventually they all managed to cuddle together on the bed. If Jackie felt some tears falling onto his head, he didn't mention it.

The four brothers stayed like that, watching Game Grumps until a doctor ushered them out at the end of visiting hours.

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ailuronymy · 4 years

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Guest Warriors-ify: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Hello there! I’ve got a Warriors-ify for you for one of my favorite games. Specifically, I’m going with the war-phase since I find that’s easiest to translate. Let’s go!

(Warning: There are some spoilers! I’ll try to avoid major ones, but still.)

WindClan (the Church of Seiros)

Leader: Lilystar (Rhea) - White she-cat with light grey spots on her head and tail. At the beginning of the war within the clans, she went missing. Her deputy has been acting in her place. She’s calm and devout in her belief in StarClan, and has led WindClan for many moons.

Deputy: Lizardstep (Seteth) - A grey-brown tabby tom with sharp green eyes. He’s been acting as WindClan’s leader since Lilystar’s disappearance, but refuses to take his nine lives because he still believes she’s alive. He’s known for being stern and strict, but much softer than he seems on the inside. He’s constantly fretting over his daughter, Minnowcloud.

Medicine Cats:

Minnowcloud (Flayn) - A light grey tabby she-cat with the same sharp green eyes as her father, Lizardstep. In the turmoil that lead up to the war, there was a conflict between WindClan and ShadowClan which started because one of their warriors attacked her while she was gathering herbs. Even in the times of war, she is bright and cheery, and does her best for her clan.

Fawnface (Manuela) - A light brown she-cat with long, silky fur. She’s a notorious flirt and a bit vain about her beauty, but a good soul deep down. She was Minnowcloud’s mentor and got severely wounded trying to protect her from ShadowClan’s attack.

Warriors:

Beetleclaw (Shamir) - A sleek black she-cat with lots of thin scars. Was a rogue before joining WindClan after owing Lilystar a debt, and stayed after bonding with the other cats - particularly Cedarpelt and Leopardclaw. She’s known as a fierce and stern warrior who runs across the moors with enviable stealth. Was Antfur’s mentor.

Leopardclaw (Catherine) - A large long-furred golden she cat with nicked ears. Lilystar herself once saved Leopardclaw’s life during her apprenticeship, and as a result holds a deep adoration for her, and has led many searches to find her. She’s good friends with Beetleclaw, and the two often patrol and fight together.

Cedarpelt (Alois) - A stocky brown tabby tom with a jovial demeanor. Was mentored by Larchfang, a well-respected senior warrior who ended up supposedly dying in a forest fire moons ago - but really, he’d run off to become a rogue. Despite what many would consider a betrayal, he still holds a lot of respect for Larchfang. He also tells a lot of awful, awful jokes.

Fogwhisker (Hanneman) - A lanky grey tabby tom and a senior warrior of WindClan. He’s inquisitive and intelligent, always trying to learn more about the world. Whenever he’s not satisfying his curiosity, he’s likely bickering with Fawnface, whom he’s never quite gotten along with - though the two do care about each other deep down… probably.

Antfur (Cyril) - A small dark brown tabby tom. He’s one of the youngest WindClan warriors, and was adopted into the clan by Lilystar after he was found abandoned as a kit. He was so grateful for the rescue that he’s devoted himself to being the best warrior he can for Lilystar’s sake. He’s determined and focused, and often takes on extra tasks around camp to lessen the workload of others.

Rowanpelt (Gilbert) - A bulky ginger tom with old battle scars. Alongside Fogwhisker, he’s one of the oldest warriors in the clan. He was actually originally a ThunderClan cat, but after feeling as though he failed Lionstar, the current leader (who was an apprentice at the time) he enforced a self-exile on himself, leaving his daughter behind. Eventually, Lilystar took him in.

ThunderClan (the Blue Lions)

Leader: Lionstar (Dimitri) - A large, ragged-furred golden tom littered with scars and missing an eye. He was once a mild-mannered and kind young tom, but trauma from his youth weighed down on his mind, until the outbreak of the war caused him to snap. He is violent and irritable, and has a cynical view of himself and the world. To make matters worse, he often suffers from vivid nightmares and even some hallucinations.

Deputy: Boulderpelt (Dedue) - A large and muscular dark tabby tom with a white underbelly and scarred pelt. He was born into a band of rogues that lead an assault on ThunderClan, and was originally going to be killed alongside them. However, seeing that he was too young to be a part of the attack, Lionstar (then Lionpaw) shielded him from harm. He is quiet and stern, and cares deeply for Lionstar, even though he’s become a shadow of his former self.

Medicine Cat: Dawnleaf (Mercedes) - A long furred cream tabby she-cat with a calm demeanor. She was originally born in ShadowClan, but after ThunderClan was left without a medicine cat, she volunteered to take over. She was nearly finished with her apprenticeship at the time, and thus was qualified to work on her own. She left behind a brother, whom she still misses dearly…

Warriors:

Greywhisker (Ashe) - A small grey spotted tabby tom. He’s kind and empathetic, and believes strongly in the values of a warrior, such as honor and loyalty. He enjoys telling stories to apprentices, as he memorized them all as a kit. He bonded closely with an elder during his apprenticeship, who became like a surrogate family member after his parents died of greencough, but that elder was killed during a battle with WindClan when he insisted on joining the battle.

Reedstorm (Ingrid) - A lithe, muscular golden tabby she-cat. She’s serious and even strict at times, but overall good-natured - and a big eater. She spent her apprenticeship with Nightclaw and Wasptail, and cares about them both deeply; even if they get on her nerves constantly. Like Greywhisker, she believes strongly in the values of a warrior, and is very disciplined in her duties. She fell in love with Nightclaw’s brother during her apprenticeship, but he was killed during the rogue attack. She still blames Boulderpelt for it, even though she knows it’s not his fault

Nightclaw (Felix) - A skinny black cat with copper eyes. Despite his thin frame, he’s deceptively strong and quick on his feet, and is a terror on the battlefield. Though he’s a capable warrior, he’s foul-natured, rude, and doesn’t get along with many other cats. Wasptail and Reedstorm are the only cats he opens up around, and even then he’s still quite cagey. He was once very close to Lionstar, and often expresses his utter revulsion at what a beast his old friend has become. He has repressed a lot of feelings about the death of his brother during his apprenticeship.

Wasptail (Sylvain) - A fiery ginger tom with long fur. He’s a bit on the lazy side, and annoyingly flirtatious with every she-cat (and even the occasional tom) that crosses his path. Despite acting like he’s incompetent, he’s actually incredibly gifted in both hunting and fighting. His brother was a traitor who went off to join a pack of rogues, who were then all killed in a later battle. He has… a lot of repressed feelings about all of that.

Daisycloud (Annette) - A little ginger she-cat with a stumpy tail. She’s bubbly and energetic, often boosting the spirits of others regardless of the dismal situation. Dawnleaf is her best friend, and she looks up to her a lot. Because of this, she’s actually picked up some basic knowledge of medicine. Her father, Rowanpelt, left ThunderClan moons ago, and she dreams of one day reuniting with him.

ShadowClan (the Black Eagles)

Leader: Eaglestar (Edelgard) - A black she-cat with fur that has been slowly patching over with white (vitiligo). She is headstrong and calculative, and was the first leader to declare war on the other clans. Her motivations for doing so are not entirely clear, but are certainly more complex than a simple grab for territory. She is often blamed for the disappearance of Lilystar, but has confessed to nothing. Despite receiving nine lives from them, she has little devotion to StarClan, and considers them to be cruel and uncaring entities.

Deputy: Raventail (Hubert) - A long-furred smoke tabby tom. He’s a sly, stealthy warrior with an eerie aura about him, and often takes care of Eaglestar’s dirty work in the shadows. He’s incredibly devoted to her, and is a feared warrior on the battlefield. Like Eaglestar, his true intentions are unknown.

Medicine Cat: Snailcloud (Linhardt) - A long-legged dark grey tabby tom. He’s devoted to his work, sure, but he’s also infamously lazy and prefers to sleep. The only thing that gets him to wake up consistently is the opportunity to learn more about the affects of medicine herbs on other cats. His kithood friend, Pebblestorm, is often his test subject.

Warriors:

Rushheart (Ferdinand) - A long-furred golden tom. He’s a bit vain and arrogant - actually, very vain and arrogant - but it doesn’t come from a place of malice. Really, he’s just overly confident as well as a bit socially awkward, and truly means well. He considers himself Eaglestar’s rival, which she doesn’t quite reciprocate.

Pebblestorm (Caspar) - A stocky blue-gray tom. Despite his small size, he’s incredibly strong, and has a fiery determination in battle. This often leads to him being hotheaded and impulsive, though. He’s close friends with Snailcloud, despite their opposing personalities, and often tags along when gathering herbs (even though he thinks it’s boring).

Rain Falling on Stones / “Rain” (Petra) - A dark red she-cat from a distant mountain tribe. She’s polite and respectful, but often lost when it comes to the customs of clan cats. Still, she’s determined to understand this new and bizarre world of cats she’d been thrust into, and she’s going to make the most of it. She’s known throughout the clans for being able to hunt large predator birds, such as hawks and eagles.

Robinface (Dorothea) - A brown tortoiseshell she-cat known for her good looks and (a skill rare among cats) having a beautiful singing voice. She’s a smooth-talker, a bit of a flirt, and can be surprisingly cynical at times. She briefly trained to be a medicine cat, in which she met and began to look up to Fawnface, the WindClan medicine cat. However, when tensions between the clans started to rise, she decided to return to the role of a warrior.

Mousestep (Bernadetta) - A small tortoiseshell tabby she-cat with white paws. She’s a bit of a recluse, and painfully shy, but this has lead to her being one of the stealthiest cats in ShadowClan (a feat in itself, considering that ShadowClan is known for stealth) and being unintentionally a very well-respected warrior. Still, those who know her personally know that she’s really a nervous wreck.

Palefang (Jeritza) - A broad-shouldered cream-colored tom with mask-like white markings on his face. He was separated from his sister, Dawnleaf, after she was called to be ThunderClan’s medicine cat. He became a cold warrior and a menace on the battlefield. Many cats think of him as cruel or dishonorable, as he lead the attack on Minnowcloud and Fawnface.

RiverClan (the Golden Deer)

Leader: Deerstar (Claude) - A light brown tabby tom with a white chest and paws. On the surface, he seems like an amicable airhead. However, those who know him more personally know he’s a cunning warrior and a brilliant strategist. He uses RiverClan’s watery territory to his advantage to stay out of the war as much as possible, not wanting to risk his own cats for the sake of another clan’s conflict.

Deputy: Rosecloud (Hilda) - A light ginger - almost pink - she-cat. She’s an incredibly strong warrior, despite her dainty appearance, though she’s often lazy and unmotivated. Many cats questioned why Deerstar would appoint her as a deputy, but he has his own reasons. Meanwhile, she takes a lot of joy in having the authority to boss other cats around.

Medicine Cat: Rainfur (Marianne) - A blue-gray she-cat with dark-rimmed eyes. She’s known for her gloomy disposition and almost repentant devotion to StarClan - despite not really doing anything wrong. Cruelty she faced as a kit and young apprentice ingrained in her a belief that she was going to grow up to be a cruel and horrible cat. Still, she’s dedicated to her duties as a medicine cat.

Warriors:

Violetwhisker (Lorenz) - A grey-brown tabby tom. He’s incredibly vain and often questions Deerstar’s authority. He believes the clan should be more involved in the war, as they could stand to have much to gain. He’s uptight and self-absorbed, and seems to believe that simply being around him is a blessing.

Lightfur (Lysithea) - A tiny, long-furred white she-cat with odd pink eyes. She’s always been sickly, and can’t go out often in bright sunlight due to problems with her skin and eyes. Though she can’t properly fight due to her health, she has a brilliant mind and is a capable fisher. Marianne has offered to give her medicine cat training several times, however she has always adamantly refused, not wanting to be seen as ‘weak’.

Foxpelt (Leonie) - A wiry ginger she-cat. She’s incredibly passionate and determined and once idolized a former WindClan senior warrior, Larchfang. She can be a bit blunt at times, maybe even rude, but she’s truly a passionate and driven warrior.

Goldenfur (Raphael) - A giant, muscular golden tabby tom with long fur. He’s a gentle giant, incredibly good-natured, and loves nothing more than food and training. Well, nothing more other than his little sister, who he dotes on constantly. He lost his parents in an accident when he and his sister were young, but he doesn’t let the tragedy get him down.

Hazelwhisker (Ignatz) - A skinny, light brown tabby tom. He’s one of the few cats in all of the clans to take an interest in art, and often sneaks away from camp to arrange pebbles and other objects in pleasing patterns. He’s a bit ashamed of this hobby, however, as he feels it’s not befitting of a warrior.

Cats outside of clans:

Ash (Byleth) - A blue-gray rogue, child of the former WindClan warrior, Larchfang. They joined one of the clans as an adult, but mysteriously vanished after the war started…

Blade / Larchfang (Jeralt) - A large brown tabby tom who left WindClan after he started growing suspicious of Lilystar’s intentions. He fled with his only kit, shortly after the death of his mate, and raised them outside of the clans. Unfortunately, he was eventually found and brought back in. He and his kit are both gone now, however…

Cherry (Anna) - A reddish-brown she cat who wanders the land, always somehow finding strange trinkets that she tries to trade with other cats…

[BONUS] SkyClan (the Ashen Wolves)

Leader: Sootstar (Aelfric) - A dark grey-brown tom well-liked for his gentle, polite demeanor and many acts of charity to cats outside of SkyClan. His clan is the most welcoming to outsiders, likely because many of its current members were once outsiders themselves.

Deputy: Smoketail (Yuri) - A lithe, graceful gray tom with silky fur. Born to a rogue long before joining SkyClan, Smoketail has traveled far and lived in many different places, despite still being rather young. He’s a bit slippery and a bit too cunning for his own good, and has lived through many things he’s reluctant to talk about.

Medicine Cat: Dapplefur (Constance) - A pale tortoiseshell she-cat. She’s a bit cocky and arrogant at times, and talks much bigger than she has to, but she’s really alright in the end. Rambles a lot about 'restoring her family’s legacy’, whatever that means. However, there are times in which she acts like a completely different cat, becoming shy and downtrodden.

Warriors:

Bearfang (Balthus) - A bulky black and white tabby tom. He’s a loudmouth and often overconfident and hotheaded. He often rushes into battle without much regard for the situation, much to the chagrin of Smoketail. He joined SkyClan after getting in trouble with a band of Twolegplace rogues. Once upon a time, he knew a couple of RiverClan cats - Including Rosecloud and her family.

Redwhisker (Hapi) - A long furred red tabby she-cat. Hapi is the type of cat that marches to the beat of her own drum, and is often inside of her own head. However, misfortune seems to follow her everywhere, and she has the worst luck when it comes to encountering threats such as foxes and badgers on patrols.

And that’s all folks!

#warriorsify #submission

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fordarkisthesuede · 6 years

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At the Brink of Midnight - Chapter 5

Sorry for the wait - I’ve only had mobile for 2 days! D: Thanks to all those who like/reblog/etc! (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。

Important Spoiler Tags: non-con drug use (continued), canon-typical violence, allusions to hallucinations, allusions to suicide, non-con self-harm...and the hug we all deserve

(Read on Ao3 or continue below:)

Chapter 5: A Light in the Dark

Bruce didn't think he'd ever driven that fast in his life, despite not being behind the wheel of his usual car of choice. He was just glad he left the emergency signal for the Batcave's door on his phone. John had started to stir as the car stopped, and Bruce rushed to get out and open the passenger door as the Batcave's lights sprung to life.

"John?"

John, half-conscious with a growing lump on the back of his head, blinked anxiously back at Bruce from the worn car seat. His pupils were still heavily dilated. "B-Bruce?" His voice was weary, scratchy, so like the night they came to blows that Bruce had to pause and swallow his heart.

"It's me, buddy, it's me," Bruce soothed, but it had the opposite effect.

"You-you're..." He looked frightened all of the sudden, shrinking back into the seat and smacking the plastic center console. "You're not here!" He covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking as he dug his nails into white skin. "You're not real!"

"John, I'm right here."

"NO!" He gave a choking gasp. "You're not real," he spat, glaring at the spaces between his fingers as he tried to shrink away from the world. "Bruce isn't...!" He looked so guilty, suddenly, trembling and holding his hands in front of his face like there was something on them. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. "I didn't... I didn't..."

"John, listen...you're hallucinating."

"I couldn't... Not in a million years! Not...not him…"

Bruce knelt down next to the car seat, feeling his heart twist as he took in the pain written everywhere, the guilt and disbelief and terror shining all over John's face. It might have been a stupid thing to do, but it was all he could - he pulled his glove off and slowly slipped his hand into John's, squeezing slightly and watching his eyes soften with realization as Bruce wriggled their pinkies to hook together.

"I'm right here, John. Promise."

John turned slightly to him, tears rolling down his face and fresh drops threatening to fall. "You're not... You're here?"

"Yes. Dr. Crane hit you with some kind of hallucinatory toxin."

John seemed to be listening, even though he didn't look like he entirely understood.

"I need to make you an antidote. Can you stand?"

John seemed to reach some kind of epiphany, his eyes somewhat alight even as his voice and body shook, despite the growl in his voice. "If you're Bruce," he glared, "If you're really Bruce - then who's Batman?"

"I... I was," he corrected. John had been disappointed that Bruce had given up Batman, but he seemed to like the idea that they hung up their vigilantism together, forced into doing so in different ways. Bruce wasn't convinced that John thought Batman was gone.

Then again, Bruce knew he wasn't, either.

John sighed, frowning slightly as he looked at the roof of the stolen Honda. "Everything's looking all squiggly."

"Right - sorry," Bruce muttered his apology, feeling foolish at even asking a trembling, hallucinating man if he could move properly. "I'll carry you, okay?" He worked his arm under John's shaking knees and his other grasped the man's waist, firmly ignoring the impulse to cling onto John and not let go. Definitely ignoring the soft noise John made and the way it made his heart jump.

John was holding onto himself as he let Bruce carry him, perhaps worried that he wasn't moving at all, or perhaps coherent enough to be worried about hurting Bruce. Bruce carried John to the medical table, still covered with the plain white sheet he had thrown over it like the majority of the things still in the Batcave.

"Hang on." Bruce hiked up a knee to hold John's legs up as he used that hand to pull the sheet off, a light cloud of dust flying into the air.

"Are the flowers still standing?" John croaked unsteadily, a bit of a smile returning to his long, pale face.

"No," Bruce laid him down gently, a smile tugging at his lips again, "the flower's lying down, now."

John laughed, a sort of shaky chortle that should've been louder and more even. It didn't sound right.

"John, I need to take a blood sample, okay?"

Acidic green pools looked up at him, shining and dazed all at once. "Oh Bruce, you can take whatever you want."

The Batcomputer would fire to life for the second time that day with only a push of a button, but Bruce was reluctant to leave John's side for too long. He managed to find the necessary medical supplies relatively quickly, but John was babbling between shaky breaths, and he found it hard to concentrate when John's voice echoed so well in the cave.

"My courage, my brain, my sanity," John continued slowly in his scraggly voice, his eyes shut once more, "my soul...my heart..."

Bruce felt an ache in his chest as he prepped the empty syringe. He had to concentrate and find a vein.

"I don't know what I'd do if you broke that," John muttered, his eyes fluttering open and looking directly at Bruce; he wasn't coherent enough to really see him, but it didn't matter when Bruce felt like the world was slowing down around him.

Truthfully, Bruce felt like rejecting John would have been the biggest mistake of his entire life. It undoubtedly would've set them so far apart that there would be no way of going back, and Bruce wasn't sure if he could live with himself if it happened.

It felt strange, but somehow John was the only one who ever understood and accepted everything there was in Bruce, and Bruce knew and saw too much of everything that was John to just walk away. They’d got thrown into each other’s lives and left impressions that felt like they would never wear away. And at the point they were at now, friendship mended, truths spilled, and trust somehow still tangible despite everything, Bruce felt sure that both of them would break completely if he so much as considered leaving John alone.

"I wouldn't," Bruce answered breathlessly, hoping beyond anything that even in his current state John could understand him.

John, though, was staring at something beyond Bruce. "You're still so handsome," he sighed slowly, "even like this..."

Bruce ignored the drug-induced attempt at flattery and the mild heat blossoming under his cheeks as he pinned John's arm down to take a sample of blood. He hoped it wouldn't take long for the Batcomputer to find what it was made of and work on creating an antidote. “I’ll do this quick.”

John still twitched, forcing Bruce to hold his elbow in a death-grip, which made John very quiet even as the rest of him shook like a leaf, but it was over in seconds. He pressed the bandage against the insertion point firmly, and John let out a rattling breath.

"Would you kill me?" he whispered. "If it came down to it?"

Bruce didn't know what hurt worse: the fact that John thought Bruce would even consider killing him for anything, or that John looked so hopeless right then.

"No, John. Never."

John's eyes weren't quite focused.

"I'll be back in a moment."

"NO!" John reached out, grabbing onto his arm like he was a life-raft. "Don't, please-"

"I need to put this sample in the computer and get it analyzed..."

"Don't leave me!" John begged, voice so similar to how it had been over the phone when he was asking for help that Bruce almost broke down right there.

It was then that Bruce regretted not having any ramps in the cave, let alone a wheeling medical bed. Carrying him to the other side could do more harm than good. “I promise, I’m not leaving for good, John.” Bruce put his hand atop the one grasping desperately at his arm, running his thumb over John’s knuckles. “Just stay here; I’ll be right back. You can watch me the whole time.”

John seemed to understand somewhat, letting his grip slack enough for Bruce to slide away and head for the Batcomputer. He felt guilty enough, with that brokenhearted face watching him walk away, but his side chose to twinge, making him reach for the large scar by reflex.

Even after the initial boot-up, the blood analysis was quick - Bruce mentally thanked Lucius for the umpteenth time, rest his soul - but the chemical compound was taking time to find an antidote.

Well, John did say Crane had said that the toxin was special. It seemed to be able to cause vivid hallucinations, increased anxiety, and adrenaline rushes - it was a nightmare cocktail to be sure. It might wear off, if the person could hold out long enough... But John had been given two doses in just over a full day. Bruce was impressed he managed to get through it all as it was, let alone remain unconscious through some of it and be at least somewhat competent up to now.

Bruce turned to look at the medical area across the cave, seeing John’s face turned towards him, his arm stretched out like he was waiting for Bruce to get closer so he could reach him better. He’d never looked so anxious before. It made Bruce want to go back over and stay there. Just to reassure him that things would be alright.

Instead, they were separated by a desperate need for an antidote and Bruce’s strong willpower. He took turns watching the progress bar move and keeping his eyes on John. His breathing had seemed to speed up…

He’d only looked away for a second, seeing the bar jump from 86% to 91%, and when he looked back at the medical table, John was up and shakily standing, audible gasps almost echoing off the walls.

“John, don’t-”

Bruce already stood to stop him, but John seemed determined – he stepped quickly, unsteadily, and Bruce found his own feet hitting the heavy metal plates of the floor when John stumbled, clutching onto the railing at the top of the stairs as he fell to his knees.

“John!”

There was an awful kind of choked sob as John curled in on himself halfway, his fingers winding in his hair as his eyes went wide.

Bruce was close, he only had twelve steps and then he’d be there –

The Batcomputer gave a light beep. “PROCESS COMPLETE.”

Bruce stopped, his foot on the bottom stair, turning to look at the dispenser underneath the enormous monitor – the little light was green.

A piercing scream bounced off the walls of the cave, boring into Bruce’s skull. John was digging his fingers into his hair, crying against the railing, looking as if he’d witnessed some unimaginable horror.

“SHUT UP!” John shouted as if Bruce had been talking to him, “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP-”

Bruce knew better than to try and grab him. He just hoped that John wouldn’t try to hit his head against anything or try and roll over the rail.

The dispensary had never felt so far away before. He kicked himself for not putting John down in a chair near it, but he thought it would be better for him to lie down. Bruce grabbed the full syringe tube from the machine and almost slammed it into the needle-gun sitting next to it, twisting on a fresh hollow needle and pulling the trigger until he saw a drop of liquid bead at the end, feeling every nerve he had sit on edge.

A cluster of bats screeched and scattered as John let out another wail.

“I DIDN’T! I DIDN’T!”

He needed to hurry. John felt so far, pushing himself too hard against the railing, feet sliding as he tried to get away from whatever voice was talking to him.

“John, stop!”

“HE’S HERE! RIGHT HERE! I DIDN’T-”

There was no way around it - he’d have to pin John down.

With the prepped needle-gun in hand, Bruce threw his weight into pushing John backwards and holding him down with his bodyweight, leaning an arm across his chest to get an opening at the puncture wound Dr. Crane had already made on John’s neck. John paused only for a second before trying to thrash, using his hands to push against Bruce’s ribs, digging in much harder than they should be able.

Bruce winced and grit his teeth through the pain, sticking the needle into John’s neck and straining to keep them both still until all the liquid from the dispenser was gone.

John was breathing heavily, his eyes still dilated and wet as his face twisted into a grimace. “Let go!”

“The antidote needs to kick in, John; I can’t let you hurt yourself.” It was hard to concentrate when John was pounding his fists at his back. The bruises would hurt worse tomorrow, but Bruce felt like he deserved every single one for even getting them to this point. The punches came slower and fresh tears traced over the partially dried tracks on John’s cheeks.

John gave a sob as he slapped Bruce’s rib and let his hand dig into the fabric of Bruce’s jacket. “Why can’t you just let me go?”

He’d asked himself that months ago, when he was putting the sheet over Joker’s display case in the Batcave.

It would’ve been easy to just ignore John while he was locked away in Arkham. Bruce could’ve put the whole Joker experience aside and filed it away as a mistake that wouldn’t happen again. Bruce had brought nothing but pain and complications that a mentally ill man didn’t need, and there he was, keeping the matching equipment of the wannabe-hero carefully displayed on little pegs rather than throwing them back in the GCPD evidence locker or tossing them into scrap. He could’ve put anything in Joker’s case – the ‘get well’ card John had given him at the funeral, the tube of lipstick that had fallen on the floor of the Batmobile at some point that night – and it would have been out of sight and out of mind.

But he couldn’t. Bruce couldn’t just walk away from everything that had happened: not from Batman’s past, not from his own, and not from the man who had reached out to him like he was a lifeline in Gotham’s noisy darkness.

Batman, Bruce, John, Joker – he couldn’t bury them and forget. It was too complicated to let one go and keep the other. They were all threads stitched together in some indecipherable pattern, bound together despite the strain and the guilt and the mess that stretched and stained them. They were what made him go to Arkham and see John to begin with, and what made him keep going back, and what brought John there at all, seeming to wind tighter together at every instance.

But all that was too much to say to a man still working through a hallucinogenic drug, so Bruce put it the only way he could:

“Because I care about you, John.”

John gave a sniffle, breathing slower, looking away with a somber, dreamy sort of expression. “I don’t deserve that,” he muttered.

John seemed to unwind as he blinked slower, and Bruce pulled away into a kneeling position, forcing away the thought that the cool air felt unnatural on the spots John’s hands had been. A quick check of John’s wrist told him that his pulse was slowing, thus the antidote was kicking in.

John blinked up at him once more before drifting off to unconsciousness.

As Bruce gently carried John back to the medical bed, he shoved away the thought of the glowing affection in that last glance, telling himself that it was just the drugs.

He’d cleaned up a few of the bloody scratches on John’s scalp before letting himself linger on the strands of green he brushed aside, too concentrated on the task at hand to think about how soft they were or why his hands wanted to loiter there in the first place.

Bruce hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep.

One minute he’d been sitting in a chair next to the medical bed, remote keyboard in hand as he tried to find any trace of Dr. Crane’s car or cell phone from across the cave, and the next he was blinking up at the stalactites, laying back against the headrest with no concept of how long he’d been sitting like that for.

John.

Bruce suddenly never felt more awake as he swiveled to look at the empty medical bed behind him. The Batcave’s lights were still on and the Batcomputer only displayed the rotating silver bat-symbol of his screensaver. The thirty-year-old Honda on the car pad below was still sitting there, just as he’d left it.

But to the left of that, Bruce saw one of the trophy cases’ sheets fluttering, and there was a great swoop in his stomach as he stood, his tongue feeling heavy at the sight of the head of dark green hair in the distance.

John was peeking under the sheet at first, as if just wanting to glimpse what might have been underneath, and then pushed it aside like a curtain, the Joker’s possessions shining in the light for the first time in seven months.

Bruce wasn’t sure what to expect as he started to descend the steps, metal clanging under his work boots, but he didn’t expect nothing.

John just stood there, shoulders slacked and head tilted slightly, the hand holding up the sheet like he would dive under it any minute. It was like he couldn’t hear him, even though he was a foot away.

“John?”

The slim man pulled himself away with a start, turning around halfway with wide eyes and a hurried Bruce! Expression turning at the sight of him, John went from mildly panicked to nervous, an unsure smile on his lips. “I, uh, would’ve woken you, but… You looked like you hadn’t slept in a week.” John’s eyes darted over Bruce’s, as if double-checking the bags that were undoubtedly underneath them.

Bruce could’ve asked the obvious question of whether or not John was alright, or how long he’d been awake for, or just launch into an explanation about what the cases were, but…

Bruce couldn’t find the words. John was standing there, messy green hair and bright eyes anyone could get lost in, and it was like the cave didn’t seem so dark, nor their situation so strange, nor the future so important.

It was natural, then, that every lonely hour that accumulated in Bruce’s mind for so long overrode his natural habit of keeping to himself and moved his legs and arms forward for him, as swift and precise as the caped crusader had always been, until Bruce had his arms wrapped around John’s in a desperate hug.

John gave a funny little noise of surprise, but it barely took two seconds before he returned the gesture, pulling Bruce even closer with a gentle hum.

For a moment, Bruce thought of nothing. The tension in his muscles was ebbing away. The scent of the old car seats and faded laundry detergent clung to John underneath something reminiscent of limes. Warmth seemed to spread everywhere and Bruce couldn’t deny it felt like something was finally right.

But he didn’t deserve to linger and bask in it. Certainly not with John, who he had hurt more than anyone else. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, pulling away carefully.

“Sorry? For what?” John laughed, letting Bruce slide away but seeming to edge into the little gap between them. “You broke me out of Arkham, gave me an antidote for Crane’s meds, brought me to the Batcave – and you even stole a car to do it!” John gave a short giggle, his pupils seeming to dilate slightly as he smiled softly up at Bruce with something like reverence. “You’re my hero, Bruce.”

It was not what Bruce wanted to hear, despite feeling the weight that seemed to always press on his shoulders lift away. He didn’t want to be praised. He’d helped John, yes, but he let two unpredictable people get away in order to do it. He’d potentially put a hundred other lives and more on the line just to selfishly save one on his own, and he let that one get hurt in the process to begin with.

“I’m not.”

John narrowed his eyes, leaning forward as if to size Bruce up. “Excuse me, Wayne - if I say you’re a hero, you are,” he emphasized with a jab of his index finger to Bruce’s chest. “No take-backs,” he added.

“You got drugged because of me,” Bruce countered, crossing his arms. “I let Crane and Jackie Lant get away.”

John’s mouth turned to a flat line. “It’s not like I haven’t been dosed up before, Bruce,” he grumbled back with a shrug, “At least I knew what to expect.” His expression shifted, turning to something more hopeful. “Besides, knowing you, you won’t let them get away for long.”

John had always had a strange feeling about him. It wasn’t his illness or his knowing gaze or the way he made green hair and bleached-white skin look good – it was the way he somehow made Bruce feel like he could be…open. While in the Pact, Bruce resisted the temptation to be completely honest with him, but in the end he knew that John had seen through that anyway. John could understand people on a level Bruce couldn’t quite fathom, and maybe it was that that made Bruce want to be upfront, or maybe it was John’s tendency to be so open about his thoughts and emotions. Maybe it was just John as a whole that made Bruce want to let the man see down to his core.

But in any case, it was just the two of them now, and they had pinky-swore each other a second time that they wouldn’t keep any more secrets, Bruce’s age-old habit be damned.

“I don’t know what I want to do,” Bruce confessed. “We need to find Crane. But I can’t… I don’t want to put on the suit again.”

“Which is clearly why we’re standing around in Batman’s home base,” John joked, grinning up at him with a chortle.

“I had to synthesize an antidote for you, and the BatComputer was the only thing capable of doing that,” Bruce explained seriously, “I don’t mind using Batman’s tools, John – it doesn’t mean I’m putting the cowl back on.” Just saying it made the idea a little firmer, and it was as if his sense of direction had improved. He knew what they could do. “Dr. Crane didn’t keep his formula at the asylum, so he must have a stash of it somewhere… We need to find it and any other records he kept of his experiments so we can drop them to the right people. Miss Lant’s threats towards him are concerning, but we can’t exactly do a citizen’s arrest if she hasn’t done anything.”

John seemed to be hanging on to his every word, a calculating look coming over his features. “Hmm… So you’ll be doing it the Bruce Wayne way, huh?” He then beamed, rocking back on his heels as he clapped his hands together. “That will be interesting! Count me in!”

“I was already counting you in.”

“You shouldn’t have assumed I’d say yes, Bruce,” John chided with a knowing look and a wag of his index finger, “Consent is important in any relationship.”

Bruce felt embarrassment creep up his cheeks. Somehow, John always managed to catch him off balance, but the word ‘consent’ definitely put Bruce in mind of other things he did not need to think about right then. “…sorry. You’re right. You…do want to help me, though, right?”

“Absolutely! B. and J. – together again! With a costume change, of course,” John grinned and shrugged. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t keep that in my little showcase,” he commented with a slightly malicious undertone, “Didn’t want us to completely match, Bruce?”

“…I couldn’t take everything from the evidence locker,” Bruce admitted.

“But you wanted to?” John raised a brow, a dark grin stretching across his face as he seemed to read Bruce’s thought - of course I did. “I knew you cared,” he purred, something flashing in the bright greens of his eyes, “I would’ve done the same for you, buddy.”

Bruce didn’t doubt that for a second, but he’d bet his estate that John would’ve stolen everything from the GCPD’s locker.

“Ooh, can I take my grappling gun?” John asked, clasping his hands in front of him. “Since we’re going after Crane together…”

It would be a good idea to bring a grapple along, but Bruce didn’t like the potential risk of losing Joker’s. He could suggest one of his own, since he had several spares…

“Pretty please?” John begged in a low voice, stooping slightly as if he was trying to look up at Bruce through his short green eyelashes. “With sugar on top?”

Bruce sighed. Whether he was Joker or John, it was his. “Alright. It’d be a good idea to bring my old one, too.”

John beamed and rushed to push the sheet out of the way, but he gingerly lifted the flashy grappling gun off its display hooks and left the sheet half-open as he whirled around, nothing short of excitement exuding from him. “So, when do we move out?”

Bruce dug his phone out of his pocket, glancing down at the lockscreen for half a second before realizing it was five A.M. on a Monday.

His mind instantly ran through his schedule – three meetings, two of which could be easily rescheduled. The third… He might have to do a video conference from the mansion. As much as he wanted to trust John on his own, he knew that Arkham was going to realize he was missing sooner rather than later, and there would no doubt be a warrant out for his recapture. More than likely, they would have assumed he had escaped, and Wayne Manor was probably going to be put under watch, being the first place they would think John would flee too. There was a high chance Wayne Tower would be given the head’s up, too…

“We’ll have to wait a while,” Bruce replied with a frown, pocketing his phone as John began to pout. “I’m going to need to call Wayne Enterprises and tell them I won’t be coming in; I have to send a drone out to see if Crane’s condo is clear before we do anything as it is. I’ve only got so much feedback from the traffic cameras.” Not to mention, John’s Arkham uniform was a dead giveaway. “And…you should change. I might have something that fits you upstairs…”

“The cave has an upstairs?”

“John, we’re underneath my house.”

John’s arched brows rose to his seaweed-colored hairline. “You mean… The Batcave is Wayne Manor’s basement?!” His grin stretched wide and his eyes sparkled anew as he gave a short laugh. “Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any better!” He gave an exaggerated spread of his arms, like he was proclaiming it to an audience, and Bruce couldn’t help but smile a bit in return. “Can I get a tour?”

“It would take too long to go through the whole manor, John,” Bruce said, stepping aside so they could walk to the stairs on the other end of the cave together, “but I think I can manage about half.”

There was a definite risk in having John work with him again, but…

Even if he had the option not to, he would’ve wanted to try again any day.

It would be different this time.

Notes: Originally, I had John being wheeled around the cave on a proper medical bed so they didn’t have to be apart. Then, when re-watching the let’s plays I saved, I noticed that the bench/bed Bruce always wakes up on in the medical area is rooted to the floor! Downside: you guys missed out on the much sweeter version where I had them hold hands the whooole time. Upside: the realism was perfect fuel for angsty longing, insight, and hurt/comfort! I also originally had John being right there when Bruce woke up (it didn’t get very far, that was where I got stuck), but I thought it was way more interesting to have John wander around and peek under the sheets covering the cave’s stuff. You know he would.

#batjokes #juce #atbom #at the brink of midnight #telltale batman #batman the telltale series #fordarkisthesuede writes #non-con drug use #canon-typical violence #suicide mention #hallucinations mention #self-harm mention #finally the hug we all deserved back in ep 4 #we're gonna do things the Bruce Wayne way!!!#whatever that is :)#things are getting pretty juicy in here #heeheeheehee

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