#and he finds himself outside of their wishes and returns on his OWN terms

[bumblingbabooshka]

Tuvok, Beloved.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION… PT.1 ]

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[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SLIGHT AGE GAP ] + [ ARRANGED MARRIAGE ] + [ BREEDING KINK ] - ( there’s a lot to unpack in this one, I know, but you’ll enjoy it.. also pls kindly lmk the artist for the fanart I used so I can tag them thx! )

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Alastor Hartifelt was a fantastic husband.

No one could deny that.

Especially not his darling wife of one year and counting.

You, his sole companion during childhood, dawning from a rich family that occupied an estate near his family’s plot of farming land, and exceptionally infatuated with him early into your friendship.

From the very first time you met him out in the sprawling green meadows of Louisiana’s swamped countryside you found comfort in each other even amidst being ignored or teased by other children.

Their shared hatred and resentment towards you and the older boy cultivated an odd but strong bond between you two, and soon your strife to fit in seemed less appealing than being his truest friend.

Alastor immediately became protective of you, finding your shy nature welcoming like his own mothers, but also irritated by those who wished you harm for the simple fact that your family was better off than their own.

If anyone dared to pick a fight, tease, or berate you Alastor was right there to come to your aid. You’d tell him time and time again that fighting for you wasn’t worth it, that seeing him hurt wounded you more than their words, but for some baffling reason he’d never head your pleas.

Why?…

In retrospect Alastor wasn’t sure of the reason himself but he was certain it had something to do with the way you returned the favor by protecting him in your own subtle ways.

Your arms remained wide open when he needed an embrace, voice full of tender understanding when the two of you held quiet conversations late into the evening, and generally being his safe place when the rest of the world refused to be.

You were his darling from the very beginning…

His everything…

Yet, Alastor wouldn’t dare say it aloud..,

The two of you couldn’t be more different to those who observed your relationship from the outside. Alastor held an air of confidence wherever he went, suave, and well mannered. He could be cunning when provoked, dangerously charming to get his way, and refreshingly decisive under any amount of pressure.

A man every woman in New Orleans wanted, craved even, but it was well known the famous radio host had you at his side.

You, the city’s undisputed princess, daughter of a wealthy businessman, but regarded as the furthest thing from a ‘spoiled brat’. It was expected for those in higher circles to have sour and condescending attitudes but you proved to be different. Soft spoken, interested in the arts more than being out on the town, and some might’ve considered you ‘sheltered’ in terms of upbringing.

The contrast between Alastor and yourself brought about many whispered rumors and questions.

“How’d a sweet little thing like her end up with him?”

“Doesn’t he want someone better suited? Whats so special about her?”

“I hear, he married her for the fathers money. Don’t blame him for it either…she’s a real peach…”

“A little young for him don’t you think? She’s a lovely broad though…”

You’d heard it all. Every sort of rumor or piece of gossip people had to offer you’d picked up on rather quickly and at first it bothered you, but overtime seeing Alastor act indifferent to the scandalous comments made you less weary of them.

He’d never entertain the scrutiny, choosing to remind you his decision to marry wasn’t fueled by any ill will and as his wife you’d never need to worry about him caring for you.

Alastor’s always had, even when he’d left New Orleans to build his career he still thought of you from time to time, but that’s all he’d ever done.

Cared for you…

Love seemed to allude his spectrum of emotions and vocabulary. Yes, he shows you affection, buying expensive gifts, making sure you never lifted a finger for anything other than cleaning or cooking when needed, and proudly showing you off on his arm at parties and social events he attended.

Yes, he strived to hide his murderous tendencies, taking extra lengths to shield you from his ‘hunting’ escapades by planning them weeks before, and then going as far as discreetly cleaning his bloody clothes and weapons the night he returns while you slept soundly in your shared bed.

Alastor took great care in showing you he cared but defining his love for you was never addressed.

Not even on your wedding day.

It was as if he’d scripted his vows to say nothing of the emotion and even avoided saying “I love you” back when you’d accidentally let it slip out during your own speech for him.

You hadn’t pressed the issue at all, knowing Alastor struggled with concepts of intimacy and devotion since childhood, but the lmawing teeth of doubt pricked your skin harder with each passing day of your marriage.

Had you made a mistake agreeing to marry him?

Was he seeing someone else?

Someone knowledgeable of the world, maybe more experienced in life than you were, or more attentive?

Was she prettier?

Were you not his kind of woman?

Where did he go so late at night, at random times of the month, with a leather bag in his hand and a wide smile on his face?…

Had Alastor been seeing another woman for a whole year and you were just too oblivious or infatuated to notice?

Did he even like you anymore? Could he ever love you…?

Were you not enough for him?

Thoughts plagued your mind constantly, causing you to be quieter than usual, and less receptive to Alsstors lingering presence.

Your back was to him, giving a good veiw of your small frame as you cooked in the large kitchen. The familiar sight brought a smile to Alastor’s face. You were so focused, hair tied back by a white silk bow, and a sheer floor length robe to match.

He’d bough both for you only a week prior, claiming he couldn’t just let the items sit in the display window when you’d been staring at with such bright stars in your eyes, but in truth Alastor had imagined you wearing it just as you were now and couldn’t resist buying it on the spot.

Your husband remained silent as he watched you waltz around the kitchen, chocolate brown eyes peering over the top of his glasses as he did, but his smile faltering seeing the distress in your delicate features.

You weren’t the type to frown often, always emitting warmth and sweetness, so the rare appearance of anguish in your expression perplexed Alastor.

What had upset his darling wife?

Who would he have to kill?….

Asking what was troubling you would surely give him answers to both questions.

He stepped forward, coming from round the corner to enter the kitchen fully before striding over to stand by your side as you began to mix what he assumed was dessert in a bowl.

Albeit, he was probably right knowing you had a vicious sweet tooth.

“Strawberry cake I presume?” Alastor finally speaks, making his presence known with a cheeky remark, and you nearly jump out of your skin hearing his silky voice resonate around the room.

Your head snaps up to look at him, eyes wide with slight surprise, but they quickly soften as he smiles. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as he steps closer, initiating his usual habit of brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before kissing your temple gently, and only pulling away when you squeak out a greeting back to him.

“H-hi Al…you’re home a bit earlier than I expected…” you swallow thickly, staring at him adoringly for a moment before lowering your gaze as tinges of guilt build in you. “I’m sorry dinner isn’t quite ready yet…” you whisper, feeling shameful, and more agitated with yourself than before. Alastor had and would never berate you, unlike most men of the time he saw no benefit in treating his wife like a slave, and made an effort to remind you not everything had to be perfect.

“It’ s alright, darling. You needn’t rush yourself,” his voice is low, simmering with reassurance as he lifts your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. You smile nervously as your eyes meet his again, his touch firm and electrifying all at once, and your tummy doing several flips when he smiles back at you.

Alastor studies your face, attempting to pinpoint the source of your masked sadness, “You seem…troubled, sweetheart. Is there something wrong?” His genuine question brings a shock to your heart, tongue going numb as you race to think of a believable reason for your dampened mood, “I…I just had a little mishap with this cake batter is all!..”

You step away from him, turning to face the semi clean counter with a false air of cheeriness surrounding you. The fear of sounding needy and demanding while telling Alastor the truth keeps you from being honest with him outright.

Fake it.

I shouldn’t worry him with my insecurities or doubts…

It might push him further away…

The whisk in your hand spins in tight circles as you focus on mixing the overdone batter, beginning to thicken itself more than necessary as you kept going, using the task as a distraction from Alastor’s keen observance.

Something was wrong.

He was sure of it now.

His eyes narrowed behind the circular glasses, hands finding your waist as he came to stand behind you, allowing his chest to press against your back, and his head lowering to tuck into the crook of your neck.

A shiver racked your body as he exhaled a long, steady breath onto your skin. Your hands faltered, flurried movements becoming lax as you froze in his embrace, “When’d you start lying to me, ma chère…” Alastor mumbled into your ear. Every nerve in your body was on alert, shocked that he’d went much further than his usual bounds of physical affection, but pleasantly delighted he’d given it to you.

“M’ not lying,..”you try to uphold your lie through rising pants, tempted to moan quietly feeling his lips graze behind your ear, neck, and bare shoulder while your robe shifted lower. You weren’t certain if Alastor was inching it down by his own accord or your subtle squirming against him was to blame.

The ending result was the same either way. Your upper body gradually becoming exposed to his leering gaze and the cool air. Alastor hummed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and flooding your mind repeatedly as he placed chaste kisses on your neck.

“I wish I could believe you, darling…” he chuckled lowly, hands inching towards the lace ribbon keeping your gown tied shut, and with one gentle tug he rendered the fabric useless. “Al..” you whined in slight surprise as he snatched the ribbon off, letting it unravel into a small pile on the tile floor before sliding his cold hands up the expanse of your heated torso.

Nothing.

You were wearing absolutely nothing underneath the thin robe and Alastor audibly groaned when he realized it.

Had you planned on this?

Were you just waiting for him to venture further with you?

All this time he’d watched you frolic and pace around your shared home, wondering what was hidden under you seemingly modest clothing….just to find you wore nothing at all…

Oh, what a rare occurrence it was for him to be such a blind fool.

Your hands flew to grasp Alastor’s wrists as he held you tighter, kneading your soft flesh lovingly, and taking his time to admire every dip and curve you had to offer him.

“Al…please..” you begged, visibly shuddering as he nipped at your neck and played with your breasts. “I won’t go any further until I hear the truth from that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart…”

Damn it….you cursed yourself, slowly losing the will to think as his lips found the most sensitive area on your neck, bruising it with his tongue teeth until you whimpered and rushed out a jumbled explanation for your heavy mood.

“I…Imscaredyoudomtlovseme…th-that you d-don’t want me- Ahm…” you soft voice reached a new octave as your husband slid his free hand between your thighs to cup your mound, gingerly kicking your legs apart with a nudge of his foot against your own, and you tensed all over as he did so.

Fuck, he could definitely feel how desperate you were now, essentially a mess already without Alastor doing much of anything, and embarrassingly unable to control your arousal.

“Love, hm? That’s what’s troubling your precious mind?…” Alastor mulls over your confession, able to maintain his composure despite heat rushing straight through him to the head of his cock as he slid two fingers into your dripping cunt. You jolted from the sudden intrusion, head lulling back to rest on his shoulder as he pumped them in and out of you at a leisurely pace, curling his deft digits fowvard every so often to make you shiver.

His thumb found your clit, pressing defined circles into it as he began to ease your worries, “Love, ma chère, isn’t what I feel for you..” Alastor lets out a soft laugh, trying to calm his own mind before clarifying his vague statement all while pushing you near the edge of your first high.

“No….I feel much more than love for you, my dear. Devotion is a better term…obsession at times…” he admits the darker side of his affection through heavy breaths, cock twitching in his dress pants when you mewl in understanding. Your warm cunt suffocates his fingers for a moment, walls fluttering as the knot in your core threatens to undo itself, causing Alastor to sharply exhale from the inviting fluctuations.

Your lips parted to warm him of your impending orgasm but only a strained moan tumbled off your tongue. Alastor needed no other sign to tell if you were close, inwardly prideful he could make you come with ease.

“Go on, come undone for me , darling,” he insists in a hushed groan, his fingers stretching your walls in a fluid rhythm to drag your climax out, and you could’ve tumbled to the floor from the sheer intensity of the knot inside you snapping on his command.

Thankfully his taller frame kept you securely trapped between him and the counter that you soon found yourself sitting on the edge of after Alastor slipped his hand away from your throbbing cunt.

You watched with a dazed eyes as the older man licked a stripe of your cum off his fingers, brown eyes sliding shut as he let out a satisfied grunt before staring at your willing form perched on the counters edge.

The sight drew a his hidden hunger closer to the surface, toying with his self control as he took it in, and urging him to act on a primal instinct he’d only ever describe as “intense affection”.

Was that a flash of red in his eyes just now?

No , it couldn’t be…

You weren’t left much time to decipher the hungry glint in his eyes before Alastor reclaimed his position near you. His slender waist slotted perfectly between your thighs, the robe now draped off your back, and your hair gradually falling loose from its simple updo as his hands traced your sides.

“Love, sweet girl, is for lonesome fools…” Alastor pressed his forehead to yours, letting you chase his lips for one heated kiss after the next, and only denying you another to whisper against your soft and slightly swollen lips.

“Neither of us are alone or fools, correct?” He huffs as you nod slowly, bringing your hands up to undo his tie, and then proceeding to expertly unbutton his vest and dress shirt.

The general charm that Alastor maintained completely dissolved into pining under your gentle fingertips, an almost desperate shot of adrenaline consuming him as you peppered kisses along his jaw and neck.

If what he said was truly how he felt about you…it was enough to stamp out your doubts, allowing the adoring side of you he’d grown familiar with to resurface, “No…we aren’t,” you respond with a small smile.

He tips your chin up, placing a deep kiss on your lips as he shrugs his shirt and vest off, setting his glasses to the side as well before reaching for the leather belt on his waist.

You paid his actions no mind, busy with fighting his tongue for dominance, but admitted defeat quite fast as his wandered your mouth in expert fashion.

Your soft hands passed over his chest, moving up to tangle in his soft curls, gently tugging the strands to earn a groan from him. Alastor pulled back, a single line of spit connecting you two as he did so, and his hair falling in front of his eyes as he stared down into your tear glossed gaze, “You’re mine, ma chère. Til death and beyond…”

You nod, halfway coherent, but mustering the will to answer him with a content smile.

“Til death…” you repeat the phrase, mind reeling further from logical thinking as Alastor hummed hearing your dazed response, head nestled in your neck once more before he trailed open mouthed kisses down the expanse of your trembling frame. He brought himself as close as possible to you, smiling on your skin as you gasp quietly feeling his clothed erection press flush against your bare stomach, leaning further back in his hold embrace him better. You feared making a mess of the counter but as Alastor trailed his lips down your body and kneeled between your legs he gave one swift snap of his fingers to eliminate the obstacle entirely.

What?….How in the world did he do that?…

Your curiosity would’ve prompted you to ask him about the absurd occurrence if it weren’t for the anticipation rushing your blood as he came face to face with your cunt. “Alastor?…” you squeaked his name softly, attempting to close your legs when he sighed out a warm breath on your glistening folds, but he held them open using one hand with ease. The other resting steady on your waist, guiding you to lay back onto the cold marble countertop, and lingering there as you obeyed his wordless command.

“Good girl…” he praised, tone deepening as you whined quietly, the sound morphing into a loud moan as he lazily flicked his tongue over your slit once…twice…and a third time.

“More…” you pant in the midst of moaning, head craning to the side while your back arched and the urge to scream built in your chest as Alastor obliged your request with vigorous intent. He hummed melodically as your taste seeped onto his tongue, walls ever so sensitive as he explored them tirelessly, and a smirk playing on his lips as you writhed in pleasure.

Your face was soon flushed completely, eyes watering as they rolled slightly with each pass of his tongue over your cunt, and your small hands returning to tug at his soft brown hair. Another coil spiraled in your stomach hearing him groan in response, seeming to enjoy how roughly you pulled his hair, and his gaze drifting up for a split second to get a good view of your satiated state.

Seven hells….she looks even lovelier like this…

Alastor unconsciously drags you closer to his face, not caring at all when you lock your legs around his head and cry out from the borderline bruising hold he has on you now. “Oh god!…” you yelp, throwing him a bewildered glance before tossing your head back as he lapped at your clit like he’d starve to death without it, and the relentless attention to your bundle of nerves was the last thing you could comprehend before the knot unwinded itself.

Your vision blurred over, everything starting to spin as your cum gushed into his mouth, and the tears you were fighting to hide slid freely down your face as he downed every single drop your body offered.

It was all too much, the hunger in his eyes, his hold on you, and your high that never seemed to subside even as he broke away from your cunt with a satisfied smile on his face.

It was all too much at once….

Your head buzzed with euphoric afterthoughts, incoherency daring to cloud your senses entirely, but the sound of Alastor’s voice near your ear successfully halted the sensations long enough for you to comprehend what he was saying.

“You taste divine, ma chère…” his musing flusters you, a light shade of pink coating your cheeks as he dips his head to steal a kiss from you, “Al…” you sigh into his mouth, biting back a keen smile, and wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him near.

He chuckles hearing the unsteady tremor in your tone, adding onto his compliment after capturing your parted lips in another deep kiss, “I presume you’ll feel just as wonderful with me inside you, sweetheart…”

His assumption proved true. So much so that the moment his cock passed through your slippery folds a heavy groan of your name was the first and only thing he could manage to say. “Y/n….mon amor…” Alastor held you underneath him, not daring to move without completely relishing in the way your cunt wrapped around him first, and your broken moans dizzying the last bit of self control he was clinging onto.

You tried not to seem overwhelmed, with your legs wrapped around his waist, and your hands cupping his face to keep him as close as possible while your body adjusted to his size. With furrowed brows and a soft smile you praised your husbands well endowed length as he finally drew his hips back, leaving nothing but the head his cock resting in you.

“You…feel…s’good….” You whisper, breathless as he slams back in, swallowing your pleased cries with one tender kiss after the next. He tasted like you, hints of bourbon lingering on his tongue from the drink he’d poured himself before leaving the station, but your essence more prominent than ever.

All that he was, all that he did, and would ever do revolved around you.

His darling wife…

His one and only….

It showed through the sweet phrases he muttered against your lips as he took his time to please you, pace slow and deliberate, but the execution precise and cutthroat.

You weren’t sure when you’d raised your voice, crying out louder as he abused your sweetest spot continuously, and only going silent when a inaudible scream begged to leap from your chest while his cock bullied into cervix. Stars collected in your vision, hands clawing at Alastor’s back as you tried to hang onto reality for dear life, but failing miserably when he sped up his thrusts.

A subtle laugh passed his lips, eyes glinting with greedy lust as your head flew back, exposing all the love bites he’d left on your delicate skin, and the sight caused his cock to twitch inside you.

“F-fuck….Al!” Your eyes watered once more, sliding shut as a familiar pressure built in your core, rapidly gaining density the longer Alastor fucked into you.

He groaned at the sound of you shouting his name in such a twisted mix of ecstasy and anguish. Your soft voice becoming tainted with an edge he’d never imagined it could have. “Close already, my dear?..” he teased you, smile as smug as ever as he stood up straight, hands gripping either side of your hips, and his gaze lowering to where you two connected.

“Look…at…that…” he mused, suddenly slowing his thrusts to a painfully harsh pace, fixated on the way your cunt continuously creamed on his length. Alastor bit his tongue to keep from growling at the view, barely registering your whines and pleads for him to go faster.

“Al…Alastor…please..m’ begging you…please…” you felt your thighs shake as he continued his lazy strokes, clearly wanting to drag the ordeal out for his personal entertainment, and his lack of sympathy for your plight in that moment edged you even closer to cumming.

He knew it too…

That infamous grin on his face as he watched you resort to quiet sobs and desperate moans was a sure sign of the fact…

Alastor knew you needed him, loved him, lived for him..

“Please what, mon chere?” He bit his lip, unhooking your legs from around his waist to push them to your chest, giving his cock a new angle to stretch your cunt with.

You felt like passing out then, all strength evaporating from your body as he reached places inside you that surely didn’t exist before. His taunting didn’t make your dazed state any better, “Please, ruin you? Please, love you?… Let me hear you loud and clear, darling..”

Before you could register the words they flew from you mouth in a hushed flurry of need.

“Please…love me…fuck me like you love me…use me…I don’t care anymore…”

Alastor immediately rewarded your answer, wasting no time as his hips snapped into yours feverishly, flooding the kitchen with the sound of skin against skin.

“Lovely…” he cooed, voice thick with tension as he stared down at your overstimulated form, and within seconds of the praise slipping off his tongue you came undone. He followed shortly after, not caring to ask where you wanted his release, and you made no protest as the warm white liquid spilled inside you.

All you could do was stare, mouth falling open as he fucked his cum deeper, “It’s high time you became a mother, mon chere. You’d like that wouldn’t you?..” Alastor rambled, hardly coherent as his high coursed through him, but his statement crystal clear to you.

“Yes…” you whimper in response, walls clenching his cock as the thought of carrying his child sprung into your mind. “I’d love it…Al.”

His heart nearly stops as a genuine closed eye smile graces your face, a light blush painting your cheeks as he kisses them gently while gingerly slipping his softened cock out of your leaking heat. Alastor then lets your legs fall, lifting you to sit up straight on the counter again before wrapping his arms around your waist.

You hang onto him for balance, feeling entirely small in his grasp, and finding comfort in the embrace as exhaustion trickles in.

Alastor breathed in your sweet scent, beginning to pull your robe back on your tired form before reaching for his dress shirt. He was careful not to stir you away from his chest as he shrugged the clothing back on

“I’d love you and our child more than anything…” he nonchalantly mumbles, kissing the top of your head, and chuckling when your tied eyes go wide with undeniable hope.

“More than anything?…”

“Anything, my dear…” he repeats himself with a soft smile, bringing a hand up to push fallen strands of hair from your face.

That was when it occurred to you…

Alastor Hartiflet could love…

He’d always been able to….

And he loved you enough to share it with another…

How surreal….

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This entire 1st part was brought to you by the Great Gatsby movie soundtrack…❤️ you’re welcome… ;)

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Actually it MIGHT BE 12 inches if we are being honest… ❤️ credits to creator.

[etheries1015]

Wishing you a happy birthday!

Featuring: General Lilia

General warnings: Gender Neutral reader

TW: None!

Being an orphan and of an unknown background, Lilia never really cared to know the true date of his birth. He didn't care to celebrate birthdays, simply for the fact that it becomes mundane and repetitive once you've lived long enough. He had a brief understanding that humans worked in an entirely different mindset, they treasured their short lives and often held grand celebrations to signify one year closer to their inevitable demise.

So the moment you had brought up the fact your birthday was that day, and you hadn't told him sooner, he seemingly brushed it off as if he hadn't cared for the notion. Little did you know, he was at an internal war with the values he thought he once had.

"I see." Lilia responded seemingly coldly, "And what age does that make you now?"

"(age)," You responded with a slight smile at his interest and widened eyes, "I know, compared to you i'm a baby, huh? I could be in my eighties and you'd still laugh at my 'lack of life experience.'" The general bit down his bottom lip and nodded, holding back commentary by grabbing his mask and heading towards the door of the cottage that you resided in. You noticed this uncomfortable shift in his demeanor, sighing slightly and retreating your playful banter.

"Off so soon..?" You asked with sadness in your voice, "I was hoping-"

"Don't," Lilia cut you off, "You are lucky I'm allowing you to stay here at all, human. Stay hidden, and remember that I..." He paused, seeing the sadness twinkle in your eyes tugged at his heart in ways he never thought he would feel. He hated the way you did that to him, he hated the feeling of butterflies with sharp wings fluttering in his stomach at those eyes, he hated the deep imbedded foreboding of betrayal for his people simply by sheltering you under his care.

Yet he also couldn't help but continue to test the waters and had found himself rather attached the past few months you resided with him.

"...I will return later," Lilia briskly murmured before closing the door, leaving you sighing helplessly at the kitchen table. It wasn't infrequent for the fae to act like this, you understood he had a major conflict of interest, and you couldn't blame his brash attitude. Yet there were days in which you wondered to yourself, when would he finally break out of that cold façade he placed?

The day quickly turned into night as you spent your day inside tending to your normal everyday hobbies. The clock ticked on and you could see stars begin to rise, with no sign of Lilia. This was not an uncommon occurrence, of course, he had spent days outside of the cottage fighting in a war you knew you should be siding with. None of that had truly mattered, though...you come to terms that Fae had souls just as sensitive and kind to the things around them as much as any human, the only difference was lifespan. With these thoughts in mind, laying in bed and wishing yourself a happy birthday you fell asleep.

Slumber did not last long for it seemed only a few minutes passed before you were awoken by strong hands that gently shook your shoulders. Your tired eyes blinked open to find a familiar figure looming over you, black hair with streaks of red surrounding you, much to your sleepy surprise. Once realizing you were awake, Lilia stood up and tugged your arm gently.

"Human, get up, I have something to show you," The general appearance was what you'd expect of someone fighting for their life, mud-streaked cheeks and disheveled hair, although Lilia always seemed to clean himself up before greeting you. Not this night, apparently. You rushed out of bed due to his urgent request, falling over one foot after the other to put on shoes and finding something quick to be decent in. This process seemed to annoy the man, for he sighed before grabbing one of his own jackets and draping it over your shoulders. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smile crawling onto your lips

"What's this?" You asked, "Taking me out all of the sudden, giving me your jacket to stay warm...what do you have planned, hmm?" Lilia raised his eyebrows in shock at your brazen response, a flustered shade of pink bursting upon his cheeks before turning his face away and complaining how long you were taking with your "drivel" and rushing out the door knowing you would be quick to follow. Laughing to yourself at how easy he could be to read, you made your way outside of the cottage. Lilia was leading you somewhere deep within the woods, while the greenery was all nice- you found yourself staring at him instead. The way he held onto your hand and led you through the forest with great understanding and no hesitance, how handsome he looked staring forward with such a serious face, and the way his hair flowed behind him with every confident stride left your heart melting at the sight.

"You're distracting," He suddenly said interrupting the silence, "Staring at me like that. Keep your guard up while we are outside," Although sounding cold per usual, your heart was warmed at the notion he cared to warn you out of worry for your well-being, for the forest in the Valley was not the safest place for a human such as yourself. Though, Lilias warm hand in yours reminded you just how far you've come, enough to trust him with your very life. You bit your tongue back from teasing him, for you weren't about to ruin what rare opportunity of affection he seems to be suddenly giving you.

The sound of feet against the leaves of the forest floor came to a halt, walking up the endless hill finally ceasing as he pulled you through the final stretch of trees to reveal a sight more beautiful than you could have imagined. Overhead you see a sea of forestry, with lights of soldier campfires scattered among them. You could see the castle, thinking to yourself if this is how Its beauty from afar enamoures you, you believed that seeing it up close must truly be a sight to behold. Lilia hid his smile, watching you with satisfaction at your reaction for something he has seen a hundred, no, thousands of times before. Yet something about seeing you there, staring out in the distance with such overwhelming love and fascination, he knew it was the first time he'd ever felt such complicated and confusing emotions. When you turned around to thank him, he held out a small box for you to open.

"What...what's this?" You asked, holding out your hands as he gently placed it on top of your palms. He bit his bottom lip, something you noticed he would often do when embarrassed, before turning his head away to look over the view ahead.

"Humans have very short life spans," Lilia started, "As a fae, outliving humans is simply...biology." Lilia took a seat, allowing his legs to dangle above the cliff, "Birthdays are not as important to us as they are to humans. But..." There was no mistaking the bright blush now dusted upon his cheeks, so vibrant you could see its glow even in the dark of the night where the stars and moon lit up you two.

"But I can't help but feel compelled to celebrate the day you were born, funnily enough. Its not much, you may be disappointed."

You unwrapped the messily done box, the bow strapping it together done disorderly yet the intent was still there. Opening the box you revealed a bracelet of acorns- neatly strung together. You couldn't suppress your smile, sitting next to the typically cold man and offering him a side hug, much to his dismay.

Yet he found himself allowing you to engulf him in an embrace, albeit grunting and grumbling with cheeks becoming rosier by the minute.

"I love it," you smiled, "Thank you, Lilia."

The general let out a soft sigh with a smile slowly creeping up to his lips, no longer resisting your hug. Although internally he screamed in protest, every fiber of his being begging to stop himself from falling deeper and deeper enthralled with this human he knew would not live past the time he even turned 250. Yet this moment, under the stars and the glow of the moonlight above, he found himself doing things he never thought he'd be doing, feeling emotions he thought would be lost in the field of battle, and saying things he never dreamed of saying to a human such as yourself.

"Happy birthday, (y/n). May your life be prosperous, and peace soon prevail."

~~

Happy birthday @masquerade-of-misery !! I hope it wasn't ...TOO angsty for your tastes.... Happy 33 years though!! And many more years to come!! 💜💜

[galaxymagitech]

Call This My Funeral

For Dick Grayson Week, Day 1: Dick's Undervalued Competency

@dickgraysonweek

Summary: Sometimes, Dick remembers how it felt to kill the Joker and wishes that monster had stayed dead. After Blockbuster, he knows that his hands are already bloody. He should be brought to justice, and, well, he might as well go out with a bang.

Or: Dick breaks into Arkham to kill the Joker. He won't let anyone stop him—not some measly defense systems, not his baby brother, and not this mercenary who seems to be trying to break the Joker out.

Characters: Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, The Joker

Warnings: Borderline suicidal thoughts, murder, non-consensual drug use, very vague allusions to canon rape

Nightwing is dead.

It’s the truth of it, even if the world has yet to catch up. Nightwing is dead. He died the second that bullet entered Blockbuster’s skull and then he was buried on a rooftop in the rain.

It takes a while to come to terms with it. He thinks about trying to stop Deathstroke, but every time he stares at his Nightwing suit, he just…can’t. He killed a man. He killed a man. And maybe, if he stopped immediately afterwards, maybe he could have put the suit back on. But he had stayed Nightwing. He had fought villains with Tarantula and returned to Gotham and pretended, and then he’d gone undercover with the mob. And somewhere along the line, the illusion broke, snapped, shattered into a million pieces that dug deep into his skin. When it came time to put on his suit, he couldn’t manage it. He stared at it. Ran his hand over the Kevlar. Held it up to the light, but all he could see was blood.

So he pulls out of the operation. It’s a slow process, and he ends up having to plant evidence and set Black Mask up, but he does it. It won’t hold for long, will only put Mask out of the running briefly. But it’s enough that Dick is able to leave without anyone the wiser.

Dick rents an apartment. His lease is for one month. He thinks about signing another lease at the end of the month and he feels sick. Nightwing is dead, and Dick Grayson is empty.

He should be in jail. If he was in jail, if he served his time…at least that would be justice. Even if Dick can’t take it back, at least that would be right. The proper consequences. But Amy wouldn’t allow him his atonement.

Dick runs that series of thoughts in his mind over and over again, as he lies in  and stares up at the moldy ceiling, listening to the sound of the rain outside. He wishes he could set things right. He should be in jail. He tried to put himself in jail, and it didn’t work.

He could frame himself. It’s not like it would be difficult. Dick is a murderer already; all he has to do is make sure others see his true face. Find a body someone dumped somewhere, make sure his fingerprints are on a conveniently-placed weapon with a record of his purchase, and then call 911 with a voice modulator describing himself as the attacker fleeing from the scene of the crime. There are more sophisticated methods, of course. Any would do.

But Bruce…Bruce wouldn’t accept it. Bruce would know that Dick wouldn’t just go out and kill someone randomly, even after Blockbuster. Bruce would at least know that Dick wouldn’t be that sloppy, if he did decide to commit murder. He’d find a way to prove Dick’s innocence.

So then how can Dick do it? How can he make the world see him for what he really is? How can he show them once and for all that Dick Grayson is dirty, despicable, poisonous?

Really, it’s a wonder he didn’t notice earlier how everyone in his life seems to suffer. He corrupts everyone around him. Hell, if he hadn’t left, Jason never would have died in his colors and Bruce never would have had to grieve his son. It’s a wonder he hasn’t managed to destroy Tim yet.

And Dick had known what he was capable of. He can still feel the sting on his knuckles as he beat the Joker again and again until the laugh was frozen on his face and his heart. Stopped.

Sometimes, Dick wishes that the Joker had stayed dead.

Of course, there’s something he could do about it.

Dick shudders, but he can’t push the thought out of his head. He’s a murderer. His soul is already dirty, his hands are already drenched in blood. Bats don’t kill, but he’s not a Bat, not anymore.

If there’s one last thing Dick does as a nominally free man, it can be this. He can put an end to all the suffering and pain the Joker has caused and bring himself to justice. Dick won’t pretend that it’s right. But he’s already wrong, and he can’t betray what he’s already broken.

Dick watches as his roof cries thick drops of acid rain and decides that the Joker will die.

---

The thing is, Dick knows he could get away with it. He’s been hunting criminals for almost two decades; he knows how to commit the perfect crime. He could hide the evidence, make sure the Joker’s body was never found, frame someone else, anything he wants. Bruce might be suspicious, but Dick thinks he wouldn’t be. And he certainly wouldn’t be able to prove it.

If Dick didn’t want to hide from Bruce, he could set up a situation where killing the Joker would be considered self-defense. Right place, right time, a registered firearm, and no jury in Gotham would convict him. He probably wouldn’t even be charged. He could go back to the Blüdhaven Police Department, draw the Joker there, and kill him in uniform. Amy would give him back his badge, if he tells her that he quit Nightwing—she already tried that with Blockbuster and he hadn’t even quit then. It would be easy enough to draw the Joker to Blüdhaven. Easy enough to find him on a raid. Internal affairs wouldn’t bat an eye.

Hell, if Dick promised to draw the Joker out of Gotham, Deathstroke would take care of him easily. He’d probably be thrilled that Dick is going down this path.

It would be so easy to get away with it.

But he won’t.

Dick Grayson will kill the Joker in cold blood. He will confess and take the first plea deal offered. And then he will go to Blackgate. He’s not stupid enough to think that he’ll survive there, as a former police officer and the former ward of Bruce Wayne. Justice will be served. Dick won’t poison anyone else, and the Joker won’t destroy his family again. A parting gift, if you will.

It takes Dick only a few days to plan the operation. Arkham has improved, but it still remains disturbingly reminiscent of a cardboard box, given how frequently its inmates escape.

Dick feels his stomach turn as he pulls out his suit. He feels like he swallowed something slimy, and it squirms around in his stomach. He doesn’t ever want to see this suit again. Just a little longer, he tells himself. He brings the suit to an abandoned warehouse, treats it with some chemicals, and burns it.

It should feel horrible. Dick created Nightwing. Nightwing is his. It should feel like burning a piece of himself.

Instead, it’s liberating. As Dick watches the flames eat away at Nightwing, all that’s there is relief. Dick hates it, with the blue bird spread across its chest like some sort of symbol. Like he’s worthy. He’s so glad it’s gone. Dick has never been anything close to worthy.

He returns to his apartment. The stairs creak on the way up. He eats his last can of soup cold. Dick drifts off to sleep and awakens with phantom gunfire ringing in his ears.

---

Everything is in order. Nightwing is gone, with no evidence left to trace Dick to the vigilante, and thus nothing to connect Bruce to Batman. Dick hasn’t had contact with Bruce for long enough that he doesn’t think Bruce will have to deal with anything more than a brief police interview. This will be on Dick, and Dick alone.

Dick needs to make sure that the way he breaks in doesn’t imply that he’s Bat-trained. He can get away with a reasonable display of skill, as a former BPD officer and a former world-class acrobat, but nothing that indicates access to other resources. 

Dick’s plan is divided into three segments: enter Arkham, reach the Joker, and kill the Joker.

Part One is relatively easy. Gotham city’s government is corrupt enough that it leaks like a colander, and it’s easy enough to find a full map of the sewers. If you know the right places to look, it doesn’t take any more than an SQL injection for login information, a homemade browser plugin, and a couple URL guesses. It’s an unnecessarily complicated method, too clunky for a Bat to ever consider, but Dick isn’t a Bat anymore.

He leaves the public library, resisting the urge to wave at the cameras, and takes the subway to the edge of central Gotham. Dick enters the sewers as close as he can get to Arkham Island. It smells absolutely foul, even with the cheap Wayne Enterprises rebreather he has over the bottom half of his face, but he’s smelled far worse than Gotham City’s waste.

Dick moves as quickly as possible, disabling all of the sensors that were marked in the sewer plans and checking for extras every few feet. It takes an hour, but he eventually reaches his destination. Dick takes the time to slowly disable the alarms on the manhole cover and climbs out under the grey sky.

From here, it gets more difficult. If Dick had his grappling gun, he could scale the building easily. Unfortunately, all he has is a regular gun. That’s why he disabled the alarms; he’s going to need time.

Arkham Asylum is old building, and the wear and tear on its stones is just enough to let Dick inch up its walls in one of the cameras’ few blind spots. It’s slow-going. If he falls, Dick knows that there will be nothing below to catch him, and he can’t die before he finishes this. Hand over hand, he balances on the tiniest of footholds. The wind whips at his hair and the cold bites at his ungloved fingers. He thinks it would have been easier to bribe a guard, but there was no guarantee they wouldn’t have just turned him in for a reward. He isn’t a Rogue. He isn’t frightening. No one knows how poisonous Dick Grayson truly is.

He doesn’t enter through the first window he reaches. Dick knows that he’s no match for bulletproof glass and steel bars. So he keeps climbing. Up, up, up. The grey sky grows darker and darker as night draws near. His fingers are turning numb. He climbs.

When Dick reaches the rooftop, he knows that he’ll register on the cameras. It’s unavoidable. But from here, he doesn’t need much in the way of time. He throws himself onto the roof and clocks the single guard in the face before she even has a chance to react. She falls unconscious and Dick catches her before she hits the rooftop. No need to cause further damage.

He takes her walkie-talkie, and reports that a figure in an orange jumpsuit was seen fleeing towards the bridge. There’s enough turnover at Arkham Asylum that no one questions the difference in voice. No one knows who’s supposed to be where, and that works well enough for Dick.

It’s easy to find the guard’s keycard and the small note tucked into her pocket with the code to the door. There are too many codes at Arkham for most people to memorize, and it’s been a safety consideration that Bruce has been working on. Apparently, he hasn’t found a solution yet.

Taking a deep breath, Dick enters the Asylum. He’s probably going to be noticed soon, even with the distraction, but he’s able to get into the elevator, swipe the keycard, and then override the protections to go straight to the maximum security ward. Dick clenches his fists and waits.

He expects to find guards when he steps out of the elevator. Instead, he finds Robin.

Dick freezes, watching as Tim’s face sets itself in determination. The kid has his bo staff extended, but he isn’t attacking, not yet. Just…ready to.

For the first time, it hits Dick that he’s not just betraying Bruce and Batman. He’s betraying everyone. Alfred. Tim. Even Jason, who had looked up to Dick in life. Is he going to make his little brother fight him?

If he has to. Dick needs to do this. He has known for a long, long time that someone has to kill the Joker, and it couldn’t be a Bat. He’s the only one with the skills and will who is already tainted. This is his duty.

The Joker won’t hurt anyone else. Dick may be betraying Tim, but only to keep him safe.

“Dick. You don’t want to do this,” Tim says slowly, as the two stare at each other.

“I do,” Dick says. Can he convince Tim to back down? Surely Tim, with his brilliant and practical brain, can understand why Dick has to stop the Joker.

“The cameras are off,” Tim pleads. “If you stop now, no one will ever know.”

Dick has avoided justice once. He won’t do it again. “Turn them back on,” he orders.

He watches as Tim’s grip tightens on his bo staff. “Bruce—”

“Don’t,” Dick hisses. “You have no idea what I’ve done. What I am.” He sighs. “I have to do this. Let me past, Tim.”

“I know you turned yourself in for Blockbuster’s murder.”

Dick nods tightly. “Then you know that I’m already a killer. Turn the cameras back on. When I’m done, Tim, you can arrest me yourself.”

“No,” Tim insists. “You didn’t kill Blockbuster. You didn’t shoot him.”

“Are you sure about that?” Dick asks, tilting his head. He draws his gun from inside his coat. The magazine is full. The safety is on, for now. He doesn’t point it at Tim—first rule of gun safety, don’t point the gun anywhere you don’t want to shoot—but it’s a demonstration. Dick is carrying a gun and has carried a gun for months, even if his fellow Bats have tried not to think too hard about it. Tim’s confidence in him is baseless.

“You didn’t kill Blockbuster,” Tim repeats.

Dick sighs, tucking the gun away. “I let him die. That’s close enough. Amy disagreed.”

“I disagree,” Tim says. “Bruce, too. Come on, Dick. Stop this and come home.”

Dick laughs. “I killed a man, Tim. I failed Bruce, do you really think I’d be welcome?” But even then— “Do you really think it matters?” Dick doesn’t want reassurances. Doesn’t want Bruce to accept him, because even if Bruce was willing to put aside his morals, Dick would still know what he is: rotten to his core. “This isn’t the first time I’ve killed someone, Timmy.”

Tim inhales sharply. “What.”

“You watched me,” Dick says. He lets his stance open. “I beat the Joker to death.”

“That doesn’t count,” Tim says, but he sounds uncertain. Dick feels his heart twist in his chest. He hates that he’s hurting his baby brother, but it’s better this way. It’s better that Tim realizes what Dick is before he can get poisoned too.

“I beat the Joker to death, and I was happy about it. Bruce made a mistake when he revived him. I’m just going to correct that mistake.”

Something flashes across Tim’s face. “This isn’t you, Dick.”

“This is me,” Dick says. “I killed the Joker, I killed Blockbuster, and now I’m going to make sure the Joker dies permanently.”

“You’re going to regret this. I can’t let you do something you’ll regret.” 

“You don’t have to let me,” Dick says gently.

“You won’t hurt me,” Tim insists. “And I’m not going to let you past.”

It’s true. Dick won’t hurt Tim, not really. But they both know that Dick can incapacitate him without doing any significant damage.

Tim’s face falls. “If you really think that letting Tarantula shoot Blockbuster makes you a murderer, how can you expect me to let you kill the Joker?”

It’s a good question. But the answer is easy. “Because I could have stopped her.” Dick takes a deep breath and forces his hands to unclench. He hadn’t even realized that they’d formed fists. Dick looks up and meets Tim’s eyes through the lenses of Robin’s mask. “But you can’t stop me.”

“I have to try,” Tim says.

Dick watches as his little brother finally moves his bo staff into a fighting position. He could stop here. He could accept Tim’s offer and go back to the Manor and see if Bruce would forgive him.

But he’s a murderer, twice over, and he’d always know that. And he knows that he can never be Nightwing again. There’s only one way left to atone.

“I know,” Dick whispers, and Tim launches forwards.

The fight is far more fierce than a spar, at least on Tim’s part. Tim is willing to do damage, anything to stop Dick from moving forwards. He thinks he’s saving Dick. And Dick, well, he appreciates it, but doesn’t Tim know that it’s already too late? Dick is a murderer. This is nothing new.

Meanwhile, Dick is trying to pull his punches. It’s not a fair fight, not in the slightest. But Dick has almost fifteen years of training on Tim, and while Dick is determined to win, he can tell that Tim’s heart isn’t in it. As much as the kid has the obligation to try and stop him, they both want the Joker dead. After all, if Tim really wanted to beat him, all he’d have to do is turn the cameras on, and Dick wouldn’t be able to plausibly beat Robin. But the cameras stay off.

Dick doesn’t call him out on it. Tim probably just hasn’t let himself think of it, and Dick will never give Tim the guilt of knowing that he could have won.

Dick dodges Tim’s first strike and dances around his second. He redirects the momentum of the third and tries to sweep Tim’s leg. Tim leaps out of the way. Dick ducks a blow to the head. Tim might not truly want to win, but the kid fights viciously. 

It’s difficult. Dick doesn’t have the time to just keep dodging, so he throws out a light punch. Tim twists away, but can’t avoid the kick that throws him sideways.

“So you’re serious about this?” Tim asks, panting. Tired, surprised, but not injured. The Robin uniform should’ve caught most of the force.

Dick still feels bad about it.

It’ll be better in the long run. The Joker will die. He will never kill another Robin, never tear another family apart. Tim will be so much safer. It doesn’t matter that he’ll never forgive Dick for this, because the Joker will never be able to hurt Robin again.

Tim throws out another strike with his bo staff. Dick catches it and rips it away, taking the kick to his stomach and letting himself fly backwards. He slams into the wall, and oh, that hurts. But it’s fine. Tim flies at him again, and Dick neatly sidesteps. With an elbow, he’s able to throw Tim off balance and catch him in a chokehold, wrapping his arm around Tim’s throat.

Tim tries to tuck his chin down, kick Dick in the shins, claw at Dick’s arm, but all it takes is a few seconds and he’s out like a light. The utility belts are keyed to their gloves, so Dick snatches one of Tim’s gauntlets and removes the handcuffs from his utility belt. He cuffs Tim, and then uses the zipties he brought for good measure. If Dick was being particularly careful, he would use a tranquilizer from the belt and lock Robin in a cell, but he’s absolutely not going to leave Tim in Arkham, unable to defend himself. This is supposed to keep Tim safe, not put him in more danger.

Dick waits a few more seconds and watches as Tim stirs. He can’t help the relief that washes through him when he knows for sure that Tim is okay, that he didn’t hurt him. Even through the mask, Dick can tell that Tim is glaring.

“You can get out of that,” Dick says quietly. “But I’ll have a head start. If you don’t want to watch me kill him, you should wait a couple minutes. I’ll stick around in the cell so you can arrest me. Now, how do I turn the cameras back on?”

Tim tilts his head to the side. His face shifts from annoyance to confusion. “Do you want to get caught?”

Obviously. Dick shrugs. “I’m breaking the law. I kill the Joker, and then I go to Blackgate. Seems like a fair trade, doesn’t it?”

Tim shakes his head. “Dick, you’re not thinking this through. You can’t be Nightwing from prison.”

It’s obviously a delay tactic while Tim works on the handcuffs and zip ties, but the statement is so out of place that Dick has to respond. Does Tim seriously think that Dick would go back to Nightwing after committing cold-blooded murder? “Tim,” Dick says. “I’m not ever going to be a vigilante again.”

“But you made Nightwing!”

Dick did make Nightwing, and he’ll regret it until the day he dies. “Nightwing is dead,” Dick says harshly.

Tim flinches. “Then what is this? What are you doing, Dick?”

Dick turns around and starts walking down the corridor. He doesn’t want Tim to see the way his face twists. “Call this my funeral.”

 ---

A minute later, Dick stands outside the Joker’s cell. He’s not going to be able to guess the twelve-digit code, even with a UV light, so he just takes his gun and slams it into the keypad. The thing cracks, but the door doesn’t open. Well, security did at least one thing right.

Dick pries the keypad away from the wall and takes a look at the wires behind it. He fiddles with it for a few minutes, recalling training sessions with Batman standing over him as a timer ticked the seconds by. Dick could do this in his sleep. He refuses to let his hands shake as he crosses the last pair of wires and the cell door slides open.

Dick takes a step in, only to find that someone else beat him there.

The Joker is lying on his cot in a white straightjacket, but standing over him is a figure in a black motorcycle jacket. When the figure turns around, the harsh florescent light reflects painfully off of his bright red helmet.

Dick runs through the list of known Gotham villains in his head before drawing a blank. His knowledge of skilled mercenaries that operate in the United States likewise doesn’t have a match. The only thing he can think of are the whispers he heard while working for Tommy Tevis. Rumors from Gotham occasionally make their way into Blüdhaven, and among them was the Red Hood.

Red Hood. Former alias of the Joker. Possibly a current up-and-coming drug lord, said to be operating out of Crime Alley. Or a really messed-up vigilante. Or a mercenary. Whatever he was, he had “rules” that no one was happy about. And he supposedly delivered a duffel bag of heads to someone, although no one can agree if it was to fellow drug lords, the Gotham Police Department, or Batman himself. Dick personally hadn’t believed that particular rumor.

Red helmet, operating in Gotham, standing in the Joker’s cell…and the clown’s still breathing. This is, without a doubt, the Red Hood. And it’s not easy to guess why the guy is here.

“What the fuck,” the Red Hood says. His voice is mechanical, leading Dick to guess that there’s a modulator hidden in his helmet. Dick can fight a random drug lord, but the Red Hood does not seem to be a random drug lord. And Dick is unequipped, unprepared, and still bruised from his fight with Tim. “What the fuck, what the literal fuck?”

Well, this is awkward. Right about now would be the perfect time to bury several bullets in the Joker’s brain. It is not a good time, on the other hand, to be fighting a Joker fanboy bent on breaking his idol out of Arkham Asylum.

“You here to stop me?” Hood asks.

Well. Dick may not be a vigilante anymore, but he is here to kill the Joker. And he supposes that is mutually exclusive with rescuing him, so…yeah. “Yep,” Dick says.

“Dressed like that?”

“Yes?” Dick’s wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, he doesn’t see why his clothes are a particular issue. The Red Hood presumably thinks he’s an off-duty guard who got called to deal with an alarm.

“Right then,” Hood says, amusement trickling into his tone, and before Dick can react, he leaps forwards.

Dick dodges his punch, just barely, and returns with a kick of his own. It sinks into some kind of body armor, and Dick narrows his eyes. The Red Hood, whoever he is, is well-funded. Another blow. This one strikes Dick in the face and he reels back. Hood’s punches are fast and hard, and it’s all Dick can do to avoid the next one.

The two dance. Dick is well-aware that they’re both on a time limit. If Hood gets caught, he can probably disappear. If Dick gets caught, he won’t have his chance to kill the Joker ever again.

Dick thinks he might be able to win this fight, but he doesn’t have the time. His fist glances off Hood’s helmet, so he changes tactics, launching himself through the air and sending a strong punch straight into Hood’s throat. It’s not what a Bat is supposed to do, it’s dangerous for the target, but right now, Dick can’t bring himself to care.

“Wow, Dickie,” Hood says, breathing ragged. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

Wait. Dick isn’t actually that recognizable, despite Bruce Wayne’s fame. Why the hell does Hood know his name?

Dick doesn’t have time to worry about it, because Hood’s next kick comes out of nowhere and catches him in the stomach. Dick flies across the room, crashing into the wall.

The Joker cackles from his cot. “All this fighting over little old me?”

“Shut up,” Dick says, only to hear Hood’s mechanical voice snap in unison with him. He pulls himself up to a standing position. “Not a Joker fanboy then,” he observes, launching himself at Hood again. Why else would he be in the Joker’s cell, though? “Mercenary?” Dick had thought the crime lord story was more likely, but he supposes a mercenary is plausible. Though obviously not a very smart one, if he was making deals with the Joker.

Hood dodges his blow and throws a punch that glances off Dick’s cheek. Dick’s elbow catches him in the jaw—not that it seems to make a dent on his helmet—and Dick redirects Hood’s next punch and makes several successive blows towards the man’s gut. “He didn’t tell you, did he?” Hood asks. Dick gets the distinct impression that he’s missing some very vital information. “Did he?” Hood repeats. “Bruce didn’t tell you. Hah!”

A punch strikes Dick in the jaw and his head snaps to the side. Copper blood fills his mouth, but Dick’s up before Hood has a chance to press his advantage. He kicks out, catching one of Hood’s arms just as he misses a punch. There’s a distinct crack and Dick grins, blood dripping from his teeth.

“You’re good,” Hood says, launching himself forwards. “But I’m better.” In a single fluid motion, he hits Dick’s shoulder, knocks him off balance, and then presses him against the wall in a chokehold. Unlike the way Dick choked Tim earlier, this is an air choke. Painful. Painful, but slow. The Joker laughs, and this time, no one bothers to cut him off.

Dick slams a knee into Hood’s groin and then uses the wall to launch both feet into his chest, kicking him back. His throat aches. “No, you’re not.” The way Hood moved…Dick’s only seen that from one person before. “You’re League-trained, aren’t you?” If Hood is, then he likely already knows Dick’s identity. And he recognized Dick on sight, asked him if he’s really going to fight dressed like that, mentioned that there was something Bruce hadn’t told him…yeah, he definitely already knows.

“Maybe,” Hood says. He’s slower, now. From the way he’s moving, his arm is definitely at least fractured.

In the background, the Joker continues to laugh, reminding Dick why he’s here. Dick doesn’t need to win this fight. He just needs to complete his objective and render Hood’s null and void.

“You’ve thought of something, haven’t you?” Hood asks.

“Yeah,” Dick says. “I realized I’m going to win.” He flies forwards, pulling himself into a somersault and slamming both feet into Hood’s chest. The man flies backwards and Dick rolls away, pulls out his gun, and flicks the safety off.

“What—”

Dick practiced this in the police academy. He knows how to shoot a gun. He knows how to hit his target.

He forces his eyes to stay open as he aims the gun at the Joker’s forehead and pulls the trigger. A bullet flies through the Joker’s brain and he goes silent, his last laugh ringing in the air.

There are fifteen rounds in Dick’s pistol.

He shoots again and again and again, until every single bullet has buried itself in the Joker’s corpse.

And then he turns to face Hood and smiles.

Dick doesn’t know what happens now. Sooner or later, Tim will burst into the cell to arrest him, or the guards will come to do the same. But Hood—Hood wasn’t part of the plan. And he doesn’t know what the man will do next.

Hood stares at him, unmoving. Dick steps forward and presses two fingers to the Joker’s neck, checking for a pulse. There’s nothing.

The Joker is dead. Dick killed the Joker.

Dick killed the Joker.

Dick killed the Joker.

The last time he killed someone, he panicked. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do anything.

This time, he just feels vaguely numb.

Hood pulls off one of his gloves and Dick watches as the man checks for the Joker’s pulse as well, before turning his helmet to face Dick. “He’s dead,” Hood says, shock audible even through the modulator.

Dick swallows. “Yes.”

Last time he killed someone, Tarantula was there. This time, it’s the Red Hood. At least the Red Hood isn’t his ally. At least the man will be more likely to want to kill him for ruining his payday than anything else.

“Yes,” Dick says. “I killed him. I killed the Joker.” He leans against the wall, lets his back slide down until he’s crumpled on the floor, his pistol hanging loosely from his hand.

“He’s dead,” Hood repeats. “What the fuck, Dick? I didn’t think you were even capable of this.”

Dick stares at the ground. “Do not,” he says, voice hard, “presume what I’m capable of.”

“Yeah,” Hood says slowly. “I’m getting that.

Dick looks up tiredly. “You should probably go. Your employer won’t pay you for breaking out a corpse.”

“My employer?” Hood echoes, as Robin bursts into the room.

Dick watches Tim freeze. Watches his face flicker as he takes in the Joker’s bullet-riddled corpse, Dick crumpled against the wall, and the random mercenary standing in the middle of the cell.

“Fuck,” Tim says. Dick thinks it’s the first time he’s heard his baby brother curse.

“Was the Pretender in on this too?” Hood asks.

Pretender? Hood has to be referring to Tim. “No,” Dick says. “No, Robin tried to stop me.” He hopes that will be enough that Hood won’t be upset at Tim for ruining whatever he was here for.

“Did he now?” Hood’s voice sounds dangerous. Tim looks—not scared, but determined in that desperate way Robin always does when facing a fight he knows he’s not going to win. Mouth set into a hard line, tension etched into every line of his body, stance defensive and far too steady.

And Dick may not be a vigilante anymore, he may be looking at a life sentence, but he’s not going to let anyone hurt Robin. “If you touch him,” Dick hisses at Hood, “I will end you.”

“Will you now?” Hood asks.

Dick stands up, bruised and battered but still a protective shield for his little brother. He gestures at the Joker’s corpse. “Yes,” he says resolutely. “I will. I will fight you, and I will win. Robin might be here to stop me from killing again, but I know better ways to make you wish you were never born. Are we clear?”

Hood holds up his hands. “Crystal.”

If Hood does try to get revenge, then Dick will defeat him, but it would be far easier if Hood just leaves now and Tim takes Dick to the nearest police station. The cameras are still off, so there isn’t much evidence, but… “You can take me to Gordan,” Dick tells Tim. “I’ll confess.”

“Fuck,” Tim repeats.

“You know it has to be like this,” Dick coaxes, holding out his wrists. “Just bring me in, and you won’t ever have to see me again. I killed him.”

“You better not,” Hood says. Dick’s not entirely clear on who he’s talking to.

Tim’s hands clench. He’s holding his bo staff aimlessly by his side.

“Robin…” Dick says softly.

Eventually, Tim sighs. “Fine. Put your hands behind—”

“Don’t you dare,” Hood interrupts.

Tim whirls around. “I’d like to hear any better ideas!” He snaps.

“Oh, I have several,” Hood says, voice dark. The underlying threat is clear.

“Trust me on this,” Tim says.

“That’s rich.”

Dick has no idea what’s going on. Robin and the Red Hood keep arguing, though it sounds more like bickering interwoven with some very creative threats. Do the two know each other or something? Is this like a Deathstroke situation?

His eyes keep flickering back to the Joker’s corpse. The blood is pooling over the cot, now, staining the thin sheets scarlet red and dripping onto the white floor.

“He won’t hurt you anymore,” Dick whispers. He doesn’t know who he’s talking to.

Tim’s hand fall on his shoulder and Dick can’t help but flinch. Tim withdraws, as if burnt.

Dick is making this easy for him. Tim doesn’t have to fight, doesn’t have to do anything except drop Dick off at the nearest police station. So why hasn’t he done it yet?

“Agreed,” Hood says roughly, and Dick looks up to where Tim and Hood seem to have reached some sort of consensus.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Tim shakes his head. He turns to Dick. “I may not have been able to stop you from killing the Joker, but I’m not going to let you get yourself killed over this.”

“Gotham doesn’t have the death penalty,” Dick says, even though that’s not really the point.

“And I’m supposed to trust you’d defend yourself from the other inmates?” Dick doesn’t answer. “Yeah. I thought so.” Tim leans forwards. “And you can hate me all I want, but I’m not sorry.”

“I don’t hate—” Dick feels something pierce his neck, and then cold liquid enters his bloodstream. He twists around to see Hood standing over him. “Tim?” He asks, voice shaking. “What’s—what’s going on?” Whatever he’s been injected with, it’s fast-acting. Dick can already feel himself starting to slip away. “No,” he hisses. “No, Tim, what—”

“It’ll be okay,” Tim says. “This was the fastest way. I’m sorry.”

Dick’s vision goes fuzzy and he stumbles away from Hood. The man lets him, and Dick nearly crashes into Tim. “Wait—” His lips move, but they feel like blubber. Everything is numb. Everything is spinning.

The world fades out.

---

Dick wakes up with a headache. Someone—multiple someones—are shouting with sharp, angry voices that pierce his skull. Dick groans.

What happened?

He remembers—

The wall, Robin, the Joker, Hood, no—

Dick struggles, heart racing as he tries to force his eyes open—

“Dick.” That’s Tim’s voice. Dick can see a very blurry Tim standing there, still dressed as Robin but without his mask, and. And someone else? Whoever they are, they move out of Dick’s vision before he can register them. “Dick, you need to calm down.”

“Where am I?” Dick asks, pulse thundering away, but it comes out more like “wh’re’m’i.” He knows he’s not in a jail cell, not where he belongs. His hand brushes against what feels like a couch cushion. Not the cot in his apartment. Not a motel bed. He blinks, and his vision clears, somewhat.

“You’re at a safehouse.”

“C’n’t be ‘ere,” Dick mutters. “B’m’n wou’n’t wan’…” Though, he realizes, Tim hadn’t said whose safehouse. If Tim hasn’t taken him to the police, then he probably hasn’t taken Dick to one of Batman’s safehouses either.

Where the hell is he?

“Wh’re ’m I?” His words are separating a little more. Dick blinks again, and Tim sharpens into focus.

“A safehouse,” Tim repeats.

Dick can feel his face scrunch up. He shifts, slowly moving to a seated position. He’s definitely on a couch. The grogginess is clearing rapidly—he must have been given an antidote to the sedative.

Tim kidnapped him. Why?

Wait, there was another voice. Tim and the Red Hood kidnapped him?

“Okay,” Tim says. “So. Hood’s going to come over here, and you need to…not freak out. We’re not dead.”

“We’re not dead,” Dick repeats, a bit lost.

“Yeah,” Tim says.

And then Hood enters his vision and, well, Dick understands why Tim felt the need to clarify that they’re all still alive.

Because that’s Jason.

“Little Wing?” Dick whispers.

Jason winces. “Yeah.”

“How long?” Dick’s eyes desperately scan over him, drinking in every detail. The white streak in his messy hair, the wrinkles in his shirt, the way his fingers tap at his thigh like they always did when he was nervous.

“Bruce has known he’s back for a few weeks, but he’s in denial,” Tim says.

“I had a plan,” Jason says. “I was going to…I was going to kill the Joker. I guess you beat me to it.”

[cherrykamado]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 — 𝐂𝐇.𝟎𝟒

previous. | next. | masterlist.

☆ pairing: yandere kamado tanjiro x reader.

☆ summary: Tanjiro and Y/N meet "gentler" demons, but Y/N can't help but distrust them. Tanjiro will gain an insight into Y/N's past to understand, empathize and add her pain to his reasons to bring down the Demon Lord, Kibutsuji Muzan.

☆ warnings (general): yandere themes, toxicity, gore, manipulation, smut, delusional thoughts, unhealthy relationships. All characters are aged up.

☆ warnings (as for ch. 04): violence, unhealthy love perspective, idolization (story is told from tanjiro's perspective.), traumatic past allusion (gore, death).

☆ notice: minors / ageless blogs do not interact.

☆ comments: yearly update!! i'll try to be more consistent but inspiration suddenly came in and i sat down to finish it hehe. one day it came back (again)! thank you for the infinite patience and all the support throughout the years!

A blink of his eyes and Tanjiro is encountered with a different kind of scene: flowers swirling around him, as if covering him from the outside crowd. He looks around but he can’t find you. Where are you? What’s all of this?

“You use the term person to refer to one that has turned into a demon.” 

His head snaps to the direction of the source; as his nostrils become full of that smell he has grown to hate so much. Her smell, she’s a… That’s right, she is a demon — she brings her now healed forearm to her chest— but she’s also a doctor.  

“I also wish to see that man, Kibutsuji Muzan, obliterated.” She resumes, and now he’s gained his full attention. 

Her statement causes his eyes to widen, orbs tinted with shock. His gaze shortly flickers between the face of the mysterious woman and her hands, where nails, sharp as claws, elongate and fade into a darker color. Underneath them, the torn skin, once bleeding, quickly closes up and heals, as it though it has never been torn in the first place. Unbelievably so, the dichotomy is evident, confusion reigning. Good demons? Tanjiro asks himself.

 Is there even such a thing? 

“W-wait, Tanjiro!”

Your voice makes him turn immediately towards you, his gaze tinged with concern as he notices the shakiness in your voice. He can sense it, your scent tainted with fear. He knows just how much you do not trust demons.

 “You’re… Y-You’re not really thinking—”

“I assure you, neither me nor Yushiro mean harm. In fact, we want nothing more than to help.” Tamayo clarifies. 

As he sees your gaze averting from his, there’s a bit of hesitance. As much as he wants to take your side, he believes she is telling the truth. Taking your hand in both of his own, he causes you to bring those gorgeous eyes of yours back onto his. 

“It’s okay.” He softly says, burgundy eyes showing nothing but determination, as he then points to his nose. “I haven’t picked any scent of dishonesty from them yet.”

Yet — the emphasis in such a word that leaves the implicit more than explicit; given the premise becoming a reality, that if anyone were to turn against them, he swears, with just one look, that he will protect you no matter what. 

Remembering Nezuko’s back at the Udon store, you both return to see her. In the way, so uncomfortably silent, Tanjiro is obviously stealing glances at your form. Your sweet scent is mixed. He notices how you’re trying to hold your hands together in an attempt to make them stop shaking but it’s pointless. 

“[Name]?” He calls, but he doesn’t get to see your lovely face, fully looking at him. He decides to tend a hand to you and so it caresses your angelically soft skin. Only then  does he notice that, just as soft as it is, your skin is humid too.

Whatever could have been so tormentuous, that your lovely face is contorted that way? In a way that makes Tanjiro wish he could just brush it off, and in return see your smile once again. Whoever is the one responsible for that alienating fear you are showing so overtly? 

“ [Name]...” Tanjiro decides to try once again. “It’s alright… I’m here. You can tell me anything, you know?”  He adds,  in a nervous attempt to console you, to let you know that he is here for you. That you can confide to him anything that is discomforting you so much.

He watches how your eyes blink your tears away, and how your teeth hurt your lip in an attempt to get that fear in control. Yet, how little does this do, as he watches you shake like a fallen angel, who’s lost its way back to heaven. 

“I-it’s just… Why did you have to do such a thing?” 

“Why… did I do w-what?” 

“That man— H-he’s monstrous… He’s… h-he’s the w-worst…” He notes how your start to stammer, but his heart has already begun racing as he noticed how your eyes, pleading humid eyes, reciprocate his gaze. From your lips come the words that would fuel Tanjiro’s infatuation more than ever, making it feel as though his heart was doing backflips inside his ribcage:

“What if he hurt you? He’s way too strong! I’ve seen what…” 

In his mind, only the question lingered and repeated, just as if there was a parrot inside his mind, mimicking your voice, mimicking… your worry towards him. 

So, you care. 

“I-I see… I promise I’ll be more careful next time.” He smiles at you, trying to conceal his inner turmoil by bringing you the reassurance you need. However, amidst all this, there is an important question that arises: 

Why are you so afraid of Kibutsuji Muzan? What happened between you and him? 

What did he dare do to you, thought a darker voice at the back of Tanjiro’s mind. 

“Did you already know him?” His thumbs ever so delicately brush away your tears. “Kibutsuji Muzan, I mean.”

And what came from your mouth… Tanjiro swears that he could feel a ripping void inside of him. 

His burgundy eyes widened tremendously as he heard his angel tell him about the hell she had gone through. Had his gear been a person’s wrist, for sure he would have broken it. It hurt him especially so that it was you who had to witness such a scene, the brutal murder of your loved ones. The magnitude of a trauma that made you pass out right then, only for his face to have been the last thing you saw. Only for the first thing to feel, smell, and afterwards see, to be the pool of the blood of your loved ones. 

But he snaps out of it, and goes back to you when he notices your upset expression, and it tugs at his heart. He notices how you squeeze your hands, and how your lips are still quivering, how your beautiful eyes are yet once again shedding tears of despair. The anxiety, the fear coming from you is insane in amount.

“I…I’m very sorry. I— couldn’t think.” He confesses, “That smell… That—”

A flashback comes to him the moment he closes his eyes. No, he doesn’t want to remember. Not now. He doesn’t want to face those memories now. 

You seem to notice this, and you’re quick to apologize. You seem to get it, more or less. He promises to himself that he’ll tell you one day, but he’s not ready. The way his expression had changed must have warned you. 

“T-that man…” You mumble out, between hiccups. “I wish… I wish for him to go down like the m-monster he is.” 

Tanjiro knows this very well. But he wants to push all those thoughts away, he doesn’t want hatred to get to him. He has to think about you, his beloved, who’s suffering right now. Something in him tells him to think about you, and to comfort you in some way. 

He doesn’t think much when his offer rolls off his tongue, yet his hand is shyly reaching out for yours. 

“Y-You can hold my hand if you want…” He risks.

And when you take it! oh, to feel such delicate fingers, intertwined with his once again. Your gentleness, holding him, how your soft skin brushes against the hardness of his rough palms; it’s like small pangs running from his hand to his heart, which skips a beat, and makes his cheeks heat up. 

A small smile then escapes his lips, and his gaze softens on you, whose gaze is fixed on the road ahead, the small udon store already showing up, as well as nezuko’s pink kimono. 

All bad feelings and thoughts vanish from his head, and the once turbulent river in his heart starts to slowly calm down. The effect you have on him, he can’t tell. The only thing he knows is that he’s so fond of it. So fond of you . 

Tanjiro has just faced one of his worst and biggest fears, and almost got killed because of that. But then you appeared, you saved him, and you comforted him. This is the least he can do for you.

Don’t worry, [Name]… he thinks to himself, but his gaze on you, thinking as if he was talking to you; this silent promise, another oath. As long as I’m here, I won’t let anything happen to you.

That is the oath he swore to himself from that very same night.

“Uhm...Tanjiro?” 

Your voice is the one that snaps him back to reality. Releasing his hand gently, almost politely, you wipe the sweat off your palm; the redhead hasn’t noticed that it was his sweat until you point it out for him. Embarrassment sneaks into plain view and coats his cheeks with a dust of pink; immediately, he’s wiping the sweat off his palms furiously against his haori, cursing himself in his mind. 

Gaze turning at a muffled voice he knows so well, he’s greeted by the innocent look of his beloved sister, Nezuko. Tanjiro smiles, and offers her an apology. 

“I’m sorry for leaving you here, Nezuko…”

“Actually!” You interrupt, in your usual cheerful voice, “It’s me who should be sorry… I shouldn’t have left her like that! But when you ran away, I-I freaked out! So I asked Mr. Toyo to look after her in the meantime.”

You did that? For him?

His breath is shaking, and his heart is pounding in his ears. 

You ran… after him. 

“T-thank you very much!” is all that he can say; his voice comes out loud, unintentionally, but he couldn’t help it. 

And your smile… That cute smile you send him, while scratching the back of your neck. That giggle that jingles from your lips, dances into his ears to travel down toward his chest, and shakes the core of his heart.  Why you are so cute is a question that doesn’t cross his mind at the moment. At this point, he has stopped asking himself questions; he allows himself to feel it, because you are warm, because you are light. Because you remind him of something so precious to him. 

Even though it has only been a few encounters since he properly met you, Tanjiro doesn’t think about whether this isn’t going too fast. Oh no, that’s another question he won’t ask himself. Time doesn’t matter to him; He feels he’s known you, because he feels he can trust you entirely. He trusted you with his little sister, and you had made the right call. You had rushed to his aid — you protected him.

You’re an angel. A guardian angel. You’ve been sent to him. And, oh, does he want to give everything to you. 

At that moment, he can’t help but to feel how his expression softens, how another smile escapes him. You have developed the ability to steal the most sincere smiles from him, it is contagious.

Your stomach growling brings your giggles to a stop, and Tanjiro can’t help but to puff his cheeks at how cute you are when you look embarrassed.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, smiling, to which you burst out laughing in pure embarrassment. 

“A-A little bit...S-sorry!” You answer, your eyes looking glossy from all the laughing. Tanjiro could hear your laugh for hours, if it was up to him. 

“Now listen to me, you! This isn’t about the money” The owner of the udon store, Toyo, beams all of the sudden. Storming at the redhead, the man looks so outraged, but only takes it out on him, not on you. 

“I can’t forgive what you did!! Not even wanting to try my udon!” 

“I-I’m so sorry—” Tanjiro’s body stiffens, “P-please serve us another bowl!” 

“So, you gonna eat?”

“Y-yes!” Tanjiro retorts, and you echo with a nod.

“You’d better eat this time!”

“Y-yes!”

You and tanjiro eat up all the bowls; Tanjiro had to make up for the portion Nezuko didn’t eat, devouring bowl after bowl, insanely fast. Once he finishes, his red wine gaze looks at you, so lost in a world of your own, slurping on your own noodles with a bright smile on your face, delighted noises coming from you as you eat up.

“Is it good?” 

You nod frantically, noodles still in your mouth. Can you get any cuter? He would buy you as many bowls as you’d want, no matter how hungry he can be, only to see you smile. 

Just the moment when you’re finishing your plate, Nezuko’s growl brings his attention to a tree. The scent of a demon hits his nostrils; the moment he turns his gaze, however, he meets the demon that was standing next to the woman who defended him and you from the policemen. 

It’s then that his intentions are revealed: reluctantly, you follow them to a house hidden behind a dead end, in which you not only meet the doctor demon again, but also one of the victim’s from Muzan’s attack. 

Hopefully, she was alive, being treated by her. Lady Tamayo, as you both learned her name was, was treating the victim’s injuries. She is asleep, but she is going to get well soon. 

“Isn’t it difficult for you to treat human’s wounds?”

Tamayo’s partner, Yushiro, doesn’t like Tanjiro at all. At least, that’s what he shows. Tanjiro doesn’t understand why, but he’s received a hit to his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. 

“You think that we’ll treat humans while choking on our drool at the smell of their blood, just because we’re demons?” Yushiro hisses, and Tanjiro immediately regrets having misjudged them. 

He doesn’t notice how you hesitantly have stepped right ahead, standing near tamayo. Not so close, but not so far, still loud enough for her to hear what you were saying. 

“Will she… Will she be alright?” He hears you ask, making him stop fighting with Yushiro, looking at you with curious burgundy eyes. 

Tanjiro’s cheeks feel warm, seeing you so concerned for the woman. 

“Yes,” The demon doctor answers, “Although it is her husband who is in a worse shape than her. We had to lock him down in the basement,” 

Tanjiro’s eyes squint in sorrow, seeing how awful it would be. To be hurt by Muzan, to be stripped of humanity, to be a demon. To betray what you once had known and loved, and to hurt what is most precious to oneself. 

Thinking about the word precious makes Tanjiro’s eyes travel to you. His mind also resorts to his little sister, but his sight, the windows of his heart, of his soul, are fixed on you. The way you look in concern, how your expression is turned into one of sorrow and hurt. Would you be feeling that too? Are you thinking the same? Who might you be thinking about? Is it about him, or is it about someone else?

The sole action of considering there could be someone else in your life is something Tanjiro couldn’t bear with. So, he is optimistic. It’s him you’re thinking about. Your family maybe? 

Please, say something. Please, he longs that your heart has a little place reserved for him. 

“How sad…” Words roll off your tongue and dance into his ears.  It’s then than the blueish scent —if he could see that, he thinks that scent would most certainly it would be blue-ish, mixed with the amber color of your usual, enticing honey scent— 

And his heart clenches. It is really sad to be like that. 

His heart clenches. He would never forgive Muzan. 

His heart clenches. He will protect you from everything. 

His heart flutters. You’re looking at him. 

“Tanjiro…” You start, and his sight travels down to your extended fist, held out towards him.

“Promise me we will kill him no matter what.” 

He didn’t need to feel your scent to know you’re upset. Angry, beyond mad, to say the least. It’s shown in the way your fist is clenched, knuckles white from the pressure; it’s in the glint of your once cheerful eyes. 

His fist gently connects with yours, a silent nod is his response.

But when he meets your gaze again, he notices that your eyes... they do not only hold anger. They hold determination . 

And that smile confirms it. 

“I promise I will do everything I can to help you turn Nezuko back into a human.” You pledge to him, stealing his breath away.

His cheeks heating up, glossy burgundy orbs pointlessly blink back tears, tears that stream down his cheeks. He’s not oblivious at how you’re looking at him, in concern, as if you have said something wrong. But he’s feeling all the opposite: it’s joy, it’s happiness. Knowing that you got him, that you understand him . That you understand his pain. 

As if your soul and his have been forged with the same material. You and him were the same — you were one. Either that, or you had been splitted into two parts of the same soul when you were created. It just had to be true. 

Arms wrap around you and don’t let you go; for the first time, they feel your warmth and, god, he loves it.  You feel like something he hasn’t felt in a while. Even if he can’t put his finger on it, it feels pleasant, it makes his heart flutter, and it brings every single inch of his self bliss. Tanjiro feels reassured, Tanjiro feels… 

“Thank you—” He sobs, breathless, while nuzzling his head in the crook of his neck, “You don’t know how much this means to me…” 

And it feels like heaven when you wrap your arms around him, enclosing him full in your loving embrace, in your kind warmth. How you gently pat his head, as he gradually calms down. He doesn’t care that everyone’s looking —they can look all they want, because Tanjiro’s never been afraid to show himself as a sensitive human being. He’s not afraid to show himself at his rawest before you. 

Embraces are always bittersweet: when you unwrap his arms, certain that he’s calmed down, there’s nothing more that he wants than being held by you again. 

But your kind gaze just does, the lovingness of your touch as you brush his tears away is reassuring enough, the nod you give him while your smile shows itself before him again is enough. 

He promises —again— himself that he will always protect you. Just as much as you want to protect his little sister.

Just as much as you want to protect him.  

Because you’re out of this world. Because you’re an angel in disguise. 

And to have an angel like you in his life… 

He shakes his head, seeing things really as they are — he’s finally found it. His angel.

The very same angel that has faith in him.

CHERRYKAMADO/JCTARO © 2024 — all rights reserved. do not repost or recommend on any platform. plagiarism will not be tolerated. visuals belong to me.

[persimminwrites]

thinking about the portrayal of grief in andor

thinking about cassian traveling to morlana one to search for his sister. his determination to find her even though deep down (i believe) he knows it's futile. even though he knows it's reckless to mention kenari and his connection to it. there's a dogged insistence to continue looking for her - a desperation to his actions that he may not be fully aware of because it would be so much harder to come to terms with her death than it is to put himself in danger.

thinking about a young Cassian getting on that crashed ship after one of his people is killed. his anger and frustration and grief spilling out as he begins destroying the thing that brought death to his life. he's confused and distraught and he lashes out physically.

thinking about bix chained to a wall as she's forced to stare at timm's body, unable to go to him - to hold him, forced to be at a distance from him, forced to grieve for him at the tail end of being angry with him for his actions.

thinking about cassian choosing 'clem' as his cover name when he joins the aldhani mission. he picks it on instinct even though he knows that a cover name isn't supposed to have a connection to your personal life. he can't help but reach for the comfort of his father's name when pushed into an uncertain situation.

thinking about lieutenant gorn aiding the rebel alliance. an imperial officer whose love was killed by the empire that he serves. he grieves his love and he grieves for the aldhani people. he carries the weight of his own past actions that played a part in the tragedies that have befallen the aldhani people and he becomes vengeful, knowing and not caring that his actions will likely lead to his death. he only cares about hurting the empire on his way down.

thinking about vel shouting a broken 'no' when taramyn dies in front of her. she never gets to go to him and is forced to leave his body there to finish the mission. she has to harden herself to the loss of the people around her because everyone is always at risk of dying. vel is always grieving. she grieves for her friends even when they are still alive and standing in front of her because she knows that death isn't a matter of if but when.

thinking about cassian and vel watching nemik be crushed by the weight of imperial credits they just stole. vel is forced to decide between the surety of mission success and potentially saving nemik - sweet, wonderful nemik who has more hope and faith than anyone else. Cassian making the decision for her to find the doctor because he told nemik he would sleep when it was over but not like this.

thinking about cassian sitting outside while the doctor tries to save nemik, unable to be at his side, to watch, but unwilling to abandon him even though the job is over.

thinking about vel staying by nemik's side until his death, being forced to listen to and carry his dying wish. her insistence in carrying it out. she holds out his manifesto to cassian and won't back down until he takes it even when there are other concerning things going on.

thinking about cassian immediately refusing nemik's manifesto. he doesn't want a reminder. he does not want to carry the weight of someone's dying wish with him, someone who was so bright and full of life and hope in the short time that he knew him. when vel insists, he takes it. and we see him carry it with him for the rest of the show. he carries that manifesto even when he runs away, seeking an escape. he returns for that manifesto after escaping prison. he listens to that manifesto the night before breaking bix out and it gives him purpose. it gives him comfort. it reminds him of a man who he only knew for a short time but who impacted him deeply. and even though cassian does not carry the physical manifesto again, he carries nemik's words with him for the rest of his life.

thinking about cassian returning to ferrix, his home, and being reminded of clem's death as he walks through the streets avoiding imperial troopers. he is helpless against the onslaught of memories just as he was helpless to do anything but watch all those years ago.

thinking about maarva being unable to walk through the main square where clem was hung. she walks the long way around. until aldhani. aldhani gives her hope and she is able to walk somewhere she wasn't able to before and she is able to face that street and think of clem and she is able to smile.

thinking about all of the prisoners on narkina 5. they are forced to come to terms with the fact that they're already dead, dead men walking. they grieve for themselves. they grieve for those around them. they are pushed to desperation, and they turn that grief into defiance. they fight for their freedom because there is only one way out and they're already dead so what does it hurt to fight to live.

thinking about cassian learning about maarva's death. he is quiet. he is unmoored. he was coming back for her.

thinking about B2EMO not wanting to be alone. he just wants maarva.

thinking about ferrix's funeral traditions, about a community surrounded by grief. it's in the walls that house them. the people of ferrix are surrounded by the dead and their memories become their strength.

thinking about the portrayal of grief in andor and how it shows so many reactions and coping mechanisms and journeys of healing and acceptance along with those who can't find acceptance.

grief is a weight and andor shows us that there are so many ways to carry it.

[ladypeonies]

Jimin, Jungkook, the military etc.

Since the announcement of their enlistment till now, I had to bite my tongue not to scream sometimes at the insanity, above all regarding Jimin. My goodness all the Jimin would get bullied, I’m worried about him, from antis and his own fans, insanity. I get antis wishing that to happen to him, but his fans. Have you ever considered that the contrary may happen? Have you ever heard about the Jimin effect out there? Men and women falling for your idol? Have you heard about that effect on black, white, brown, short, tall, bald, long hair men? Show hosts being mesmerised, were you there? Suga himself in his show told you that Jimin had the capacity to pull at people’s heart strings. Do you remember the effect on his own members? All of those people were human beings. It may come as a shock to you but despite the codes, rules the military is made of human beings.

And you are telling me that the first thing they will think by watching Jimin, whose music they grow up with, even against their will, his smile, his kindness is to bully him because they will be bored and wanting to make him pay for being young and successful? You’re telling me they will choose to attack him without thinking of the repercussions or Jimin finding them outside and hiring people to beat the shit out of them? They wouldn't choose to be kind to use his connections, fans (the girls), hope for a job, etc. Yes, the world is full of POS and with extreme conditions people could lose it. But you forget something, BTS renewed their contract, they are Hybe assets (I know they’re human beings!) business-wise, and there is no way Hybe would let their boys get damaged mentally and physically. They have insiders, whistleblowers who will love to have a quick pay to alert them of anything.

How can they have insiders, the army is strict bla bla? The Korean army is strict with its soldiers, but the Korean army is part of Korean society. It’s not like people can’t get their way in Korea with connections, money and power. Are we talking about the same Korea? Which was built on corruption with the chaebols? A democracy which is doing worse than countries who had dictators putting their family in charge, and kidnapping people in their house, in terms of corruption? A country where corrupt ties between Korean businesses and Korean governments run deep? That wouldn’t allow a private company to have eyes on his famous employees in the army? No favours, really? Why do you think BTS went to Saudi Arabia for the weather, only for the fans? Nothing to do with deals between the two countries? And Hybe wouldn’t have asked something in return?

Even if Hybe didn’t ask, a military official in charge of overseeing BTS training and service wouldn't like anything happening to them under their watch. That’s a career suicide. The whole world would look at it, scrutinise the army and articles would pop up left and right. Korean doesn’t want to be embarrassed for failing to take care of the biggest boy’s band in their history. So, no, I’m not worried. It will be tough but Jimin will be fine, they all will be. One doesn’t have/send famous people in their army without taking precautions and being prepared.

Jikook had noble reasons to go together that I stated here, they can rely on each other, but what if Park Satellite Jungkook imagined his Jiminie hyung in a military base, surrounded by hundreds of soldiers complimenting his smile, willing to help him cut his meat, calling him cute, and he said, where is the companion enlistment form, I need it right now? Lol.

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

Snow White and the 7 minibots

Considering the naming conventions used by cybertronians, there had to have been at least one bot with the designation Snow White. This made me wonder how you'd translate the fairy tale into cybertronian terms.

"Optics the color of rubies, wings black as onyx, armor white as snow."

Snow White is a seeker prince living in Vos. Instead of an evil queen its an evil wing-lord, wishing to remain the most beautiful seeker in all of Vos. There's still a magic mirror, except now it's an old artifact of Unicron.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"

“Thou, O Lord, art the fairest in the land.”

Then, when ultimately one day responds with Snow White's name, the wing-lord of course goes mad with jealousy and employs a mercenary to take Snow White out to the wilderness and kill him. He also tells the mercenary to bring back Snow White's t-cog as proof of his demise.

Of course, we all know that the mercenary end up not killing Snow White, instead urging him to run away and never come back. To trick the wing-lord into believing Snow White is dead, the mercenary kills a turbofox, takes its t-cog and delivers it him. The wing-lord, truly mad, cannibalizes the t-cog, hoping it somehow absorb Snow White's beauty and vitality through it.

Meanwhile, Snow White finds and befriends seven minibot miners (combiners perhaps?) that live on their own in the wilderness and starts living with them. Sadly, because the wing-lord still has the magic mirror he eventually learns the truth. In revenge, he throws the mercenary out the highest tower in Vos.

To finally get rid of Snow White once and for all, the evil wing-lord concoct a tasteless poison that he mixes with sweetened energon. Then he disguises himself with magic he's gotten from Unicron before heading out to the wilderness

Snow White is home alone when the evil wing-lord, disguised as a wandering beast-former, knocks upon the door. It's acid-raining outside and the wing-lord asks for shelter until the rain subsides. Of course, Snow White being so kind he is, lets him inside. As thanks, the wing-lord offers him his own 'special' blend of sweetened energon.

So trusting and naive, Snow White accepts the energon and drinks it. Almost immediately after taking a sip, he falls dead onto the floor, his white armor quickly turning grey. Cackling with glee, the evil wing-lord turns back into his seeker self and flies back to Vos.

The seven minibots return to their home to find Snow White dead. Stricken with grief, they place him in a crystal coffin so that he would always be able to see the sky.

One day, a passing Prime passes by. This Prime just so happens to be an old love of Snow White who had gotten separated from him when he had been suggested for Primacy. On his way back to Vos to finally meet his beloved again, he instead finds him dead. Devastated and overcome with grief, the Prime kneels before the coffin of Snow White.

But then! A miracle! The Matrix in his chest feels the Prime's pure love for Snow White and feeling such pity for him, resurrects the seeker!

Snow White, the Prime and the seven minibots all travel to Vos together where Prime reveals the evil wing-lord as a worshipper of Unicron. As punishment, the wing-lord's wings are set on fire and he's told to fly as high as he can. Forced to do so, the wing-lord flies high up in the atmosphere until the fire melts his wings, sending him plummeting down to his demise.

With the evil vanquished, Snow White, the Prime and the seven minibots live happily ever after.

[sublime-beyond-loss]

Skip Button Alternate Ending

I got the idea to write out a 'what if' ending for the skip button scene concerning what would happen if the narrator was capable of acknowledging a player who refuses to keep skipping forward. This is heavily inspired by @give-soup-please writing prompts. I don't normally write in this style and I'm not one to write stuff that feels so much like wish-fulfillment, but hey, it can't hurt to be a little self-indulgent every once in awhile, and even then, boy is this ending earned by the time it is finished. It's no cakewalk for anyone involved, it just has a slightly happier outcome compared to the normal way this ends. I also just really like the idea that since the narrator is not human, he does not have a human mind, despite his personality closely resembling one. What if he is actually quite capable of enduring multiple eternities alone without going mad as long as he has the right motivation to do so and doesn't slip into an existential spiral along the way?

This can be read as platonic or romantic. Another choice. Make it count.

Several skips in after the narrator has finally started to grasp the situation and realize just how bad it is, it takes him a little while but he eventually notices that the player is refusing to keep pushing the button. Seeing that you're trying to stick it out with him in the room, at first you both try to find ways to keep each other entertained, but he slowly starts to understand that there is only one way one of you can make it out of here alive/sane. He asks you to start skipping forward again with the hope that maybe enough time will come to pass that the room will start to fall apart. Between you having tried to hold out for his sake and he himself having decided to make this sacrifice on his own terms, this gives him a far greater resolve to stay sane during his long years in solitude, for your sake.

With every skip, you try to spend time with him to ease some of his loneliness. You will often wait hours, if not days before pushing the button again. Some skips are harder than others for the narrator. (I'm betting he would need a lot of moral support during the skip where the fire alarm is malfunctioning because he has probably had to listen to it beeping for months if not years and something like that would drive anyone mad) Still, he remains far more sane than he would during a regular run of this ending.

At one point, you get to return to him excitedly showing you that the roof has caved in. Being an incorporeal voice, he can leave through the hole any time he wants, but he still can't get you out. So now it's his turn to stick around for your sake. With the next skip, you find hope and joy in the plant life that has crept into the room while you were frozen, and the narrator got to experience the whole growing process first hand. He finally has a new sort of story to tell you, and he enjoys speaking of the plants growing and being able to rise up out of the room and see nature all around him. Who could have thought that merely talking about plants could become such an interesting topic for the both of you. He does confess though that this has been the hardest skip for him to not simply abandon you because he longs to explore this new world of nature after centuries alone in that dark, lonely room.

This moment of peace is soon shattered as the darker skips with the terrifying noises outside hit. The narrator is deeply unsettled and his voice is all but a whisper coming from one corner of the room, because unlike you, he has been dealing with having to hide from these screaming entities for decades, if not centuries. He does not dare look out through the hole to see what state the memory zone is in. Some of the things he says really concerns you. He confesses that the eons have been hard on him, and he suspects that the memory zone has changed to reflect that. He fears that the beings out there are warped aspects of himself, searching for their missing piece, and he does not want to find out what will become of him if they do find him. However, even though the world outside has decayed into madness, he has not. He thinks that he may be the last splinter of sanity holding on for dear life in a fragmented mind that has long since gone mad. Knowing that every time you push that button you will come back someday and stay with him for awhile helps keep him sane no matter how lonely, bored, or scared he gets.

You try to stick with him during these horrible skips for as long as you can, but it is especially hard with how frightening it all is. You have to keep reminding yourself that if it is this bad for you then think about how much worse it is for the narrator who has had to deal with this for an unfathomable amount of time. The screams sometimes grow distant, but all too often they get much too close. They will come right up to the hole and all you can do is sit very still and be very quiet, an art the narrator has long since mastered. You can feel invisible eyes on you when they peer through the hole. They know you are there, but they never reach in. Why? The narrator can only theorize. He does not know why they do not take you, because they often cry out for Stanley in their warped voices and they could pluck you from the room with ease, unless they are as limited as he is in being able to affect the room and everything in it. Why have they still not taken him either? He thinks that maybe they are waiting for him to give up and join them of his own volition. He admits that it is hard not to give in to the madness sometimes, since your visits have become so spaced out and he finds himself alone for millions upon millions of years.

Sometimes they knock on the walls from the outside. Soft and gentle at times, rapid at others, and sometimes they beat at the walls so fiercely that you are sure the bricks will come crumbling down. Where you once wanted nothing more than for these walls to fall away, now you desperately hope that they will hold and keep acting as a barrier against the beings that lurk outside. You fear that if you push the button again the narrator will be gone by the time you return, taken away by these hellish entities. Finally, with your mental health rapidly deteriorating, the narrator has to make a hard choice and begins encouraging you to push the button. Nothing is more important to him than making sure at least one of you gets out of this sane, and you staying here with him is threatening that. He promise you that the next skip will have you sitting on a beach with a drink in hand and the ocean spread out before you. No more brick walls, no more terrifying monsters, no darkness, just you free from it all. You seriously doubt that since you can only see the skips continuing to get worse, and that scares you since you cannot imagine anything worse than what has already come to pass. Plus, the way he does not include himself in his desperate storytelling worries you, but you do appreciate that he is trying to bring you some hope in this unyielding darkness. With much hesitation, you push the button for what turns out to be the last time.

Staring down at the broken skip button with the hollow sound of wind whipping through the broken, slanted room, for one horrible moment you think that you are alone, but then you hear the narrator speak up directly behind you. He tells you that he has been waiting a million lifetimes for you to return. He tells you that a hole slowly opened up in the wall over several millennia. You can finally leave, and he could have left you behind a trillion times over all throughout this hellish experience, but he chose to wait for you instead. All because you attempted to wait out eternity for him first. For your sake, the narrator found the resolve to make it through the eons with his sanity 'mostly' intact. He isn't human, after all. He's made of tougher stuff than that! You want to celebrate, you want to get that ancient, weary voice to start narrating with some passion again! But more so than anything, you want to get out of this damn room! 

With light streaming in through the hole in the wall, you step out into the desert. The return of light is so stunning and beautiful to you because the darkness of the last few skips is still so fresh in your mind, but for the narrator it seems to be nothing more than a distant memory. The void and the screaming entities are long gone. The end of the world has come and gone. Insanity has given way to some new form of stability. The narrator says that he believes this desert is a new world waiting to be born, it just needs some sort of spark to begin the process. He sounds so relieved. He is ready to move on to something new. No more doors, no more reviews, no more buttons, no more endings, no more resets. You both are ready for a story about beginnings. Though neither of you say it out loud, both of you fear that the game will reset at some point. Maybe it will, maybe it won't, or maybe you two will find your own way in this new world where a reset back to the status quo is simply impossible. You have to keep moving forward to find out.

[rav-rabies]

Hi Fi Rush Headcanons/ideas: pt 1 Heroes

got a few ideas bouncing around mostly just backstory stuff I wanted to write down to clean up my head and thought I'd share.

Pt 2

Possible trigger warnings: discussions of family fights, age gap relationships

Chai

Sun sign: Cancer, Moon: Sagittarius, Ascending: Sagittarius

Is smarter than he lets on

Grew up in a small town and got himself into trouble because there wasn't much else to do.

Never knew his father. He left home to pursue his dream of being a Rockstar and disappeared.

Chai created an idealized version of his father. Wants

Majored in Business as his mother wished but negotiated to study Music Theory as a minor. Got mostly A's and a few B's.

Quit school after being discouraged by an asshole professor and because he wanted to live his own life on his terms.

Couldn't find work after dropping out because ableism and struggled on disability payments.

Peppermint

Sun: Sagittarius, Moon: Capricorn,  Ascending: Virgo

Was an invitro baby and was conceived around the same time as Kale.

Roxanne and her husband had been separated for three years when there was an accident at the treatment center Peppermint's zygote was stored in. Roxanne was relived one of her zygotes survived and she and her estranged husband agreed to bring the child to term.

Her father died when she was barely a year old so she never got to know him.

Has a small tattoo of two intertwined violets on her back to represent Sapphic love.

More interested in environmental science and politics then robotics but was supported by Roxanne as both fields a line with her worldview.

Is planning on returning to school soon after her mother gets everything back on track at Vandelay.

Macaron

Sun: Libra, Moon: Taurus, Ascending: Pisces

Spent his vacation reconnecting with his old friends outside of Vandelay.

He was that kid who took things apart. His parents were great though and supported his interest. Just they made sure to redirect his curiosity towards lest destructive

First learned about Roxanne when he was finishing collage and wanted to become a part of something bigger. He was drawn to her ideas and drive.

Korsica

Sun: Virgo, Moon: Scorpio, Ascending: Aries

Had not been working at Vandelay long before Chai came along.

Had a tentative "friendship" with Zanzo due to both being bottom of the social hierarchy.

Has zero interest in Chai and Peppermint as romantic partners. Though that can change for peppermint. Her age is the only hurtle really. (NOTE: I do love this ship and have no problems with age gaps in shipping or sometimes irl. But, as someone in their thirties, I feel comfortable saying that we're not as inclined to date younger unless we're kind of immature like Zanzo or said 20 something is really chill.)

CNMN

CNMN doesn't need headcanons from me he's perfect as is.

Roxanne Vandelay (Heads up she gets Rose Quartzed a little)

Sun: Capricorn, Moon: Sagittarius, Ascending: Aquarius

She values altruism above all. She believes the purpose of creation in both science and the arts is to better the world.

Also values hard work and sacrifice, not to insane levels but again to the point she lacks some sympathy for those

Has a hard time accepting others as driven as her. She isn't actively mean but she's not very understanding of those with different values.

She and her husband both wanted to create a better world and fell in love while working for it. After Kale was born Her husband became devoted to his son. She believed both still/would support her vision and spent as much time with her family as she could and hoped love would be enough.

It wasn't. Overtime her son grew to resent his distant but caring mother and her husband grew sad and frustrated.

Arguments started and the rift got too big for anyone to ignore. She left.

After her husbands death Roxanne found herself a CEO of a rapidly growing company and a single mother to an unruly teen who just made a strange new friend.

[little-box-of-autism]

Incendiary [Spellman Siblings]

Ro’eyk was seven, just about to turn eight, the first time he properly met Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, the oldest son of Toruk Makto. He had known about him, everyone heard about the children of Toruk Makto, and he had seen the younger boy briefly when his father would bring him and his younger siblings to Hell’s Gate, but up until Ro’eyk’s little brother decided to befriend the children of Toruk Makto, he had never interacted with Neteyam.

Neteyam was quiet – thoughtful, sweet, kind – which Ro’eyk liked best. He did not like people who were loud, they made him irritable and after a while it would get too much for him, but Neteyam was quiet, his voice never made Ro’eyk feel as if he wanted to tear off his skin or rip out his ears.

Spider was loud, a constant buzz of energy that never died out, but Spider was his brother – his Ri’tsyìl – and Ro’eyk could handle dealing with Spider’s noise.

Ro’eyk liked the other Sully kids too but not as much as he did Neteyam. Lo’ak was fun, always up to something and Ro’eyk did enjoy engaging in mischief with the second son of Toruk Makto and his little brother, but he was also loud and reckless. Kiri was…. Kiri, she was like Reyzì in a sense with her connection to Eywa, but she was quiet, and her presence was soothing at times. Ro’eyk did not remember Grace, Kiri’s mother, but his siblings were close to her prior to her death, and so they cared for Kiri.

Tuktirey was a child, an annoying one, but Spider liked her, and she was Neteyam’s younger sister, so Ro’eyk tolerated her presence.

Over the years both Rävi and Reyzì have teased him over his fondness for Neteyam, the only person outside his siblings whose company Ro’eyk ever sought out, but it wasn’t until he was sixteen that Rävi called it a ‘crush’.

If Ro’eyk threw a smoke bomb at his elder brother, it was between him, Rävi, and the lingering green smoke stains.

It took some time – approximately three months – for Ro’eyk to come to terms with the fact that his feelings toward Neteyam weren’t wholly platonic. Even after admitting to himself that his brother might be correct in saying that Ro’eyk had a ‘crush’ on Neteyam, he refused to apologize to Rävi regarding the smoke bomb incident as he still wasn’t pleased about the forced emotional revelation that his brother’s teasing brought on.

_

“Why is the ceiling green?”

Ro’eyk stared at Norm from where he was perched on a lab chair.

“I threw a smoke bomb at Rävi, the dye was too concentrated.”

Norm, for all his faults as their guardian, had the redeeming quality of not questioning the things him and siblings did very often, as well as covering for them more often than not. The human man only squinted his eyes at the green smoke rings that stained the floor and pressed his lips into a thin line.

“How concerned should I be?”

“Three.”

“Hm, ‘kay.”

Norm left an old rug outside the lab the next day to cover up the stains.

_

Ro’eyk never mentions his crush to anyone, especially not to Neteyam, but his sister finds out all the same. He has long since accepted that there is very little that his sister does not notice, and truthfully as a boy he believed that Reyzì was all knowing like Eywa and he isn’t entirely sure she isn’t.

Now he listens to her screaming, and how it echoes throughout the caves of High Camp, as he flipped a small incendiary bomb – filled with his own special recreation of Greek Fire – through his fingers in a poor attempt at calming the burning anger in his chest and the growing itch to pick at his fingers until they bleed.

Spider had gone out with Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk, but he hadn’t returned with them. He was taken – captured – by some kind of reborn avatar version of his biological father, and Jake Sully wished to flee, having no intention to save their brother who he allowed to be captured.

Ro’eyk briefly wondered if they would return Spider to them if they presented the RDA with Jake Sully’s head.

“I am sorry that I could not save Spider.”

Neteyam didn’t flinch when Ro’eyk’s amber eyes met his, which was admirable considering very few could hold his gaze without flinching or cowering, and his fingers still for a moment as Ro’eyk stares at the boy in front of him.

He doesn’t speak – rarely does in moments like this, words too heavy to pass his tongue as his mind whirls with images of fire and destruction – for a long stretch of time as he simply stares at Neteyam, the boy who holds his affections, before he reaches blindly into one of his pants many pockets and pulls out a small device that he turns over in his hand before handing out to Neteyam.

“What will this do?”

“Let’s me know where you are. Only I can track it.”

_

Ro’eyk checks his pager nightly, reading out the string of coded coordinates in silence, and wonders absently about whether Neteyam has taken well to the sea or if he longs to return to the forest.

“You worry.”

Rävi sits across from him with Spider tucked against his side and fast asleep. Ro’eyk eyes the recombinants below them, most asleep on the ground apart from the one that piqued their sister’s interest, before turning his gaze back to his elder brother.

“You worry about Tarsem.”

“I liked you better when you didn’t pay attention to anything that didn’t explode or catch fire.”

_

“Ro’eyk!”

It took much of his self-control to not last out at the weight that slammed into him, but the aggravation that came with the unexpected physical touch faded when Ro’eyk looked down to see a familiar face grinning up at him.

“Neteyam.”

It takes him a moment but Ro’eyk eventually gathers himself enough to bring up his left hand to clasp over the back of Neteyam’s neck – like how Rävi does to him and Spider – and he grasps the younger man’s upper arm with his right hand. It’s not a hug, Ro’eyk was never one for physical affection, but for Neteyam he is willing to try.

“Tell me about the sea.”

@dirtytransmasc @letsunity

[tracingpatternswrites]

Master fic list

Hello and welcome to my writing corner. You can find all of my fics under TracingPatterns on AO3 but I’ve put together some of the things I’m the most proud of in this post. I’ve posted the rating and the rough wc, but please mind the CW and tags on each fic. And if you do read, and like, feel free to drop me a comment because it never fails to make my day. Happy reading!

Harry Potter fandom

Wolfstar

Wilder than Mountain Thyme - E - 109k Remus Lupin is a disillusioned werewolf who has mostly turned his back on the Wizarding society, content to work his mundane muggle job. Sirius Black is wizarding royalty, or at least he was until he walked away from his pureblood family to follow his own path in life. Sometimes love is found where you least expect it, and Edinburgh is no exception.

Mr. Mouse - Teen and up - 2.9k James and Lily Potter are killed by Voldemort, but when the spell backfires off of baby Harry, Voldemort actually dies and the war ends. Instead of being shipped off to the Dursley's, Harry goes to stay with Sirius and Remus, which had always been according to his parents' wishes. This is a little snippet of their life together.

Of Quiet Hearts and Thundering Dreams - E - 46.7k Sirius Black never thought he was the kind of person who would ever settle in a sleepy village outside of London, but that was before Lily and James Potter died, leaving their son in Sirius' care. Remus Lupin never thought he would return to his childhood village, but that was before he found himself being a single parent in a foreign country. Neither of them thought they were looking for something, but maybe they were.

Betrayal - Teen and up - 4k Remus Lupin returns to Hogwarts.

Full moon - M - 1.7k Sirius’ first full moon in Azkaban.

Playing with fire - E - 7k Over the years, Sirius had perfected the careful manipulation of Remus’ possessiveness into getting exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it. He had poked and prodded and twisted and bent until he knew exactly how far Remus could be pushed before the Wolf came out. This close to the full moon it was like playing with fire and Sirius lived for the burn.

No-one say (how pretty you were) - E - 5k Remus shares a memory.

Countdown - E - 6.8k In which Remus teaches Sirius a little something about patience.

Push - E - 7.3k “Ah,” Remus said, slowly. “Decided to be difficult today, then.”

Family on the Mend - M - 76k (co-written with @heartofspells​) Sirius and Remus are struggling with parenthood, stretched too thin trying to bring up two children with a significant age gap, soon-to-be-fifteen year old Harry Potter and two year old Teddy Lupin-Black. When their chaotic life boils over during a dinner party, their friends intervene and suggest they need help. Sirius and Remus both agree they can’t do it on their own, however, the kind of help that they suggest - a Muggle Reality TV Show which focuses on helping struggling families - is not what either of them had in mind.

Trust - E - 4.8k Five times Sirius trusted Remus and one time he didn't.

An heir and a spare - Teen and up - 3k The new term has started and Regulus has to face his brother for the first time since Sirius left Grimmauld Place to stay with the Potters. Tragic Black brothers.

Nothing without you - M - 6.4k Sirius, he thinks again, the only word that seems to catch in his mind as he stares at the bed. It’s Sirius, there, body stretched out and eyes closed and black hair spilling over the pillow and blood. So much blood. He looks like he’s sleeping, only not, because Sirius doesn’t sleep like that, on his back, still and quiet.

Secrets in the Black of night - E - 6k It all starts when Remus is paired with Sirius fucking Black in Potions, but Remus didn’t think this was where they would end up. Sirius is in Slytherin, Remus is in Gryffindor. How different things could be.

Chase - E - 7k “For the last time, Padfoot, I’m not going to play hide-and-seek with you,” Remus exclaims, an exasperated sort of tone to his voice as he looks at his boyfriend. (Or shameless, plotless smut)

The wolf submits - E - 4.6k When the moon has been particularly cruel, when the wolf has been especially savage, when Padfoot and Prongs haven’t been enough to calm his thirst for the hunt, that’s when he wants this, needs this. When he comes to, racked with guilt and with the taste of blood in his mouth, that’s when he needs this.

A collection of wolfstar microfics originally posted on Tumblr - mixed ratings.

Drarry

As The Tide Pulls - E - 24k People are always awed by how powerful Harry Potter is. Little do they know it comes with a price. When Harry steps through the doors to Draco Malfoy's shop Magical Mends they don't know that both their lives will change forever. Despite the history between them they manage to find something within each other and they start building a life together. Just as their life settles down, Harry starts to show symptoms that turn out to be more than just stress and a diagnosis reveals that there is something wrong with his magic.

Mixed

over blackened water - Regulus Black/James Potter - E - 14k Regulus knows it as clear as anything. He might be a Death Eater, might be one of the Dark Lord’s most trusted, but Regulus Black belongs only to one other man and that is James Potter.

Scent of Summer Snow - Sirius Black/Remus Lupin/James Potter - E - 15k Remus had spent seven years watching James Potter and Sirius Black. It was impossible not to the get drawn in by their magnetism, impossible not to watch them when they were together, impossible not to be affected by the way the whole world seemed to centre around them. It wasn't that he was jealous, exactly, but when he lay awake in bed listening to the two of them whisper, unaware that he was still awake, he couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to be a part of that.

Little Lion - Sirius Black/James Potter, Sirius Black/Regulus Black, James Potter/Regulus Black, Sirius Black/James Potter/Regulus Black - E - 35k Sirius Black and James Potter are two sides of the same coin. Rivals since the first day they set foot on the Hogwarts Express, constantly trying to beat the other whether it’s on the Quidditch pitch or in the classroom. Together they are the embodiment of the Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry. Regulus Black is caught in the middle, stuck between his older brother and his Quidditch captain.

Descent - Sirius Black/Draco Malfoy - E - 22k Everyone thought that Sirius Black was dead, and maybe he was, until he suddenly isn’t. It turns out that coming back from the veil is not as easy as one might think. Between infiltrating the Death Eaters’ ranks and ghosts of the past haunting him, he begins to descend into reveries. As Sirius finds himself back with what remains of his family the line between then and now starts to blur and fade away.

This is how it ends - Draco Malfoy - Teen and up - 6.2k The executioner leaves through the same door that he came, his face hidden behind a mask. It’s ironic, really. Draco’s father was sentenced to death because of the mask he had worn, and now his life has been taken by someone wearing a different one. A mask for a mask.

A mother's love - General Audience – 3.8k Sirius might have left, but he was going to come back. He was going to come back. He had to come back. A Walburga Black character study.

The Malfoy Gambit - General Audience - 2.4k Narcissa had always been the one left behind to pick up the pieces. Her sisters were selfish, doing whatever they wanted without a thought on how it would affect anyone else. Their family. Their parents. Her. They wreaked havoc through everyone’s lives and left their little sister to pick up the pieces and hold everything together.

Pieces - M - 3.8k Some missing pieces from Halloween 1981, multiple POVs.

After the fairytale - General Audience - 4.7k Over the years he’d perfected the mask of a carefree wizard. He had grown from The Boy Who Lived into The Man Who Triumphed and he bore it well. But the darkness wasn’t gone. A Harry Potter character study.

Hate - General Audience - 425 Severus hated him. Had always hated him. Had hated him since the first time they met on the Hogwarts Express, standing face to face with him and the insufferable Potter. A short Severus Snape character study.

West Side Story

Riff/Tony

Family - Teen and up - 5.5k Tony had come back from upstate a changed man. He didn’t know how to explain it to the guys he’d left behind, but prison did that to a person. He’d only been gone a year but a year in prison was like ten on the Upper West. Locked up, he had nothing but time. That was all it was, doing time, and there was so fucking much of it.

You feel like home - E - 4.8k The first time it happens, Riff thinks it’s a mistake. He doesn’t mean to think of Tony when he’s on the cusp of release, but he turns his head and his gaze snags on a shirt thrown over a chair. It’s Tony’s shirt, left behind the last time he’d crashed at Riff’s instead of going home, and suddenly he thinks of Tony, shirtless in his bedroom, and Riff comes into his own hand. It's just one of those things, he tells himself afterwards. An accident, it doesn’t mean anything. He was already so far gone, it had nothing to do with Tony. Not really.

Supernatural

General

Christmas - General Audience - 1.8k The Winchesters don’t do Christmas. They never have, really. Dean figured they used to, must have, sometime before everything went horribly wrong but he doesn’t remember it.

[thoughtfulfangirling]

October/Autumn Books

Over the years, I've been trying to collect books good for reading around this time of year. I thought I'd make a masterlist of sorts. There will be categories, and books may be in several of them.

Each of these books I feel have something to offer in terms only that they fit what I feel is readings for the season within their vibes. Any YA books will be explicitly marked as such. Additionally, my actual opinion of the books will be marked with 1 through 5 asterisks (stars), and because I hate rating books, I'm going to preface by saying I'm being very loosey goosey with them XD

Autumn Vibes (weather)

The Coldest Girl in Cold Town by Holly Black *****

YA. Vampires exist, and the world knows about it. The world is dealing with it as best they can. Barriers between overnight workers and the public, habits to close all windows every night, avoid evening events, and the conversion of large towns into prisons for vampires and those who wish to become them. Within this world, Tana is just trying to have a normal teen's life, but that all changes when a drunken night at a friends and a forgotten open window results in her waking up seemingly the only survivor of a vampire attack. That's enough for a teenager to have to deal with, but as it turns out, not all the vampires are gone. (The audiobook for this one is exceptionally creepy and good.)

Doll Bones by Holly Black *****

Contemporary. YA. Kids try to keep the magic of youth alive by going on an adventure (running away) to a doll they want to believe is haunted to her grave site in early-ish autumn.

The Girl in the Green Silk Gown by Seanan McGuire *****

Sometimes, living is the true thing of nightmares. Such is the case for the hitchhiking ghost Rose Marshall. She's hitched the ghost roads for decades longer than she's been alive and content with her undead existence despite being haunted still by the man who killed her, demon-pact and all. When he curses her, she finds that only by living again can she remove the curse. It was only supposed to last one evening, the only evening the dead can return to flesh: Halloween night. (This is a book 2)

In the Woods by Tana French ****

In his childhood, Adam Ryan was out with his friends when those friends went missing. It became a huge story, especially because when they found him, he was so traumatized, he had no memory of what took place. They never solved his mystery, but he became an investigator himself. He thought that was all behind him, except he is put on a case that has a mysterious link to that cold mystery. Ryan shouldn't be working this case, but no one has linked him to it yet, and he can't help but try and see if this new case will reveal anything about his own.

The Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo ***

Alex Stern is in the fall Semester at a college that deals in magic. Normally, an outsider like her wouldn't have been recruited to help keep order among the magic houses that operate out of the college, but there's something special about Alex: She can see ghosts, a rare gift. At least that's how she's seen. To Alex, it can be more of a curse. One she will have to use though if she is going to find the mentor who mysteriously disappeared earlier that semester under supernatural circumstances.

Plain Bad Heroines by Emily Danforth *****

Half historical, half contemporary. Chunks of the book occur during autumn months and lovely descriptions of the weather and orchards, and a repeating motif of apples.

The November Girl by Lydia Kang ****

YA. Hector is a runaway, and he has planned his time hidden away until his 18th birthday perfectly to escape being in his uncle's custody any longer. On the last day a tourist island on Lake Superior is open, just before the November storms are expected to come and batter the island, he boards the fairy there and remains in secret. The island is expected to be abandoned and dangerous. It does prove to be dangerous, but what it doesn't prove to be, is abandoned. There is a strange girl also still left upon the island, and the creeping cold and raging storms only seem to give her power. She doesn't seem fully human.

Tithe by Holly Black ****

YA. Halloween approaches, and Kaye finds that her world may just be more preternatural than she expected as suddenly she is encountering fairies. Her encounter does more than open her eyes to a new world, it seems to be changing her too, and the stakes will reach a peak Halloween night.

Horror Vibes

Alice Isn't Dead by Joseph Fink *****

When her wife goes missing and doesn't reappear, one woman gives up the life she knows to become a trucker. On the road, she expects to find herself... or her wife. What she finds are mystery and horror instead.

Dracula by Bram Stoker *****

Does anyone actually even need a summary? Look, if you like to read books for Halloween and haven't read this one, just do it. You're on Tumblr; make sure you know what all the Dracula Daily posts are going on about. They're excellent.

The Exorcist by William Blatty ****

What is more horrific than watching a beloved child deteriorate into self harm and bad health and getting no answers, having to trust to faith instead of anything you've trusted before. Or how about a believer faced with evil powers one never expected to truly come face to face with?

Juniper & Thorn by Ava Reid ***

The witch daughter of a cruel wizard is persuaded by her two elder sisters to sneak out of their carefully controlled home to see a ballet. For her, this is out of character to disobey her father, but she finds the show changes everything. She is enraptured by the performance, and more specifically, the lead, who she chances upon meeting while going out to get some air. For once, she has found something worth coming out of her shell for, but should she have left home when there are dark rumors of a man-eating monster stalking the night and the tentative tranquility of their home, and their voracious father, is as risk? Contains explicit sexual content.

The Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo ***

Alex Stern is in the fall Semester at a college that deals in magic. Normally, an outsider like her wouldn't have been recruited to help keep order among the magic houses that operate out of the college, but there's something special about Alex: She can see ghosts, a rare gift. At least that's how she's seen. To Alex, it can be more of a curse. One she will have to use though if she is going to find the mentor who mysteriously disappeared earlier that semester under supernatural circumstances.

The Girl with All the Gifts *****

I was so hooked starting this book with zero information about it other than it was a good spooky read, and since it was such an experience, I simply cannot get myself to say much about this. It follows a special child student, her teacher, and the head of the locked down school's security team as they navigate a dystopian world behind walls, and attempts to reach the outside world have proven unsuccessful so far.

The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones ****

Most people experience the past coming back to haunt them in some way, shape, or form. But three men who grew up on a reservation feel like they are being haunted by more than the memories of the past. They don't talk about the incident much, not since they were banned from that part of the reservation, but they feel like perhaps they should as they find themselves fighting for their lives against the ramifications of that day.

Plain Bad Heroines by Emily Danforth *****

Half historical, half contemporary. A haunted swath of land, or a curse? The deaths may seem natural, but are they? And why do all these wasps keep showing up every which way?

Thirteen Storeys by Jonathan Sims ***

The apartment complex must be haunted. What else explains the series of horror visitations that happen upon 13 different residents who live in the building? Each storey is unlike the other. Almost a series of short stories, except... they do seem to be connected. Everything seems to point in the direction of the apartment's landowner as each resident receives an unexpected inviation to a dinner at his top floor penthouse in too timely a manner with the unexpected.

Under the Pendulum Sun *

Gothic Horror. What happens if the fairy are real and known of during the Victorian era? Well, we must preach to them of course! But it may just be that within the strange land of fairy a brother and sister find themselves in for their purpose of the gospel, the lords and ladies of fairy are more interested in the sins at the heart of the people than their hope for their souls. Very Victorian Gothic. The prose was gorgeous, and an atmosphere of eerie unease was well painted; however, beyond the stunning prose, I did not find the stories or the characters' choices all that compelling. The plot/character work wasn't for me, but if one is in the mood for eerie, haunting prose, then this would be the perfect read.

A Winter Haunting by Dan Simmons ****

Separated from his wife and broken up with by his lover, a professor returns to his home town in the Midwest in late November where the snow has already accumulated. He finds himself lingering over the death of a childhood friend and haunted by his past. Isolated in a small town with wanna be skinheads probably isn't the best time to suddenly feel like shadows are moving in, and he feels like the target.

Eerie Vibes (Horror Light)

Carmilla by J. Sheridan Le Fanu *****

Only a novella in length, Carmilla is a fascinating read. Follow a lonely girl outside of her country of origin come to have a visitor, Carmilla, stay at her estate under mysterious circumstances. She quickly finds herself enamored with Carmilla and quickly grows ill with her worry over unhappy events which seem to plague Carmilla overnight. Despite them however, Carmilla seems just as robust as ever despite her habit to sleep away the mornings. This book predates Dracula, and it strikes me that it lent much of its lore to Stoker's later novel.

The Coldest Girl in Cold Town by Holly Black *****

YA. Vampires exist, and the world knows about it. The world is dealing with it as best they can. Barriers between overnight workers and the public, habits to close all windows every night, avoid evening events, and the conversion of large towns into prisons for vampires and those who wish to become them. Within this world, Tana is just trying to have a normal teen's life, but that all changes when a drunken night at a friends and a forgotten open window results in her waking up seemingly the only survivor of a vampire attack. That's enough for a teenager to have to deal with, but as it turns out, not all the vampires are gone. (The audiobook for this one is exceptionally creepy and good.)

Doll Bones by Holly Black *****

Contemporary. YA. A child's parent keeps an eerie doll locked up in a cabinet, and the children's playtime has turned her into a queen of sorts. Then suddenly one of the children has a dream; a girl was murdered and her ashes placed in the doll. Her soul is restless and wants to be laid to rest in her grave, and the kids — her subjects — must find it and take her to it.

The Dead and the Dark by Courtney Gould ****

YA. Why is it that the worst of humankind can flourish so proliferous in the most beautiful of places? The small town of Snake Bite is littered with shadows and mystery, and it seems to be targeting the town's teens. First, Ashley's long time boyfriend goes missing, and then newcomer and outcast Logan's new friendly acquaintance is found dead. The town might hate Logan, and Ashley might come from the most prominent family in the town, but the two girls can't help but investigate the odd happenings that disappeared Ashley's boyfriend and implicated one of Logan's dads in that disappearance. The town believes he killed him, Logan is determined to prove him innocent, and Ashley still believes he's alive. She can feel his presence still all around.

The Best of Edgar Allan Poe

I have never read an author that, in so little time of story, manages to dredge up so much feeling of dread. If you want to set a dark and dreary mood, Poe's your man. In today's age, I don't know that his stories come off nearly as spooky as they once did, but they certainly evoke a sort of low mood spooky stories often aim for. It's like the counter of a thriller which often evokes high, frantic energy instead of the low, desolate mood of Poe's work.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley ****

For current readers, I don't know if this quite works as horror, but there is definitely something to the carelessness of men who create without considering their creations.

The Girl in the Green Silk Gown by Seanan McGuire *****

Sometimes, living is the true thing of nightmares. Such is the case for the hitchhiking ghost Rose Marshall. She's hitched the ghost roads for decades longer than she's been alive and content with her undead existence despite being haunted still by the man who killed her, demon-pact and all. When he curses her, she finds that only by living again can she remove the curse. It was only supposed to last one evening, the only evening the dead can return to flesh: Halloween night. (This is a book 2)

Sparrow Hill Road by Seanan McGuire *****

Follow a hitchhiking ghost over the breadth of the continental US. She was run off the Sparrow Hill Road in 1952 on her way to prom and never made it there. Instead she haunts the highways of the US, hitchhiking her way from roadside diner to roadside diner. She finds a calling in spending time with someone before their last moments, fated to die on the road. Sometimes though, she gets to alter that fate. But there is one out there who has an unpleasant fate in mind for her, and he haunts the roads in his immortal demon car, determined to get the prey who escaped him in the early 1950s.

True Irish Ghost Stories by St. John Seymour & Harry Neligan***

Interested in 'true' ghost stories? Well find here collected stories Seymour and Neligan sought out from real people in Ireland who vouched to the veracity of their accounts. The stories are disjointed and with no real beginning or end, but read much like tales told around the campfire in the dark of night.

Dark Stories

A Dowry of Blood by S.T. Gibson ****

A letter from one vampire to her maker whom she has murdered. The story is their story, the one of living under a man she thought a savior, who turned her into a monster, and showed her an initial love that hid a vindictive, controlling menace amidst the monotonousness of his vampirism. Explicit sexual content.

The Girl with All the Gifts *****

I was so hooked starting this book with zero information about it other than it was a good spooky read, and since it was such an experience, I simply cannot get myself to say much about this. It follows a special child student, her teacher, and the head of the locked down school's security team as they navigate a dystopian world behind walls, and attempts to reach the outside world have proven unsuccessful so far.

Juniper & Thorn by Ava Reid ***

The witch daughter of a cruel wizard is persuaded by her two elder sisters to sneak out of their carefully controlled home to see a ballet. For her, this is out of character to disobey her father, but she finds the show changes everything. She is enraptured by the performance, and more specifically, the lead, who she chances upon meeting while going out to get some air. For once, she has found something worth coming out of her shell for, but should she have left home when there are dark rumors of a man-eating monster stalking the night and the tentative tranquility of their home, and their voracious father, is as risk? Contains explicit sexual content.

King of Battle and Blood by Scarlett St. Clair **

The princess and heir to a kingdom besieged by a vampire army finds herself preparing for her father's surrender to the Vampire King. An unexpected and unpleasant stipulation of the treaty of surrender is the princess's hand in marriage. For her people, she agrees, but her people expect her to assassinate her new husband despite his immortal durability. Fairytale elements. Intrusive thoughts. Contains smut.

The Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo ***

Alex Stern is in the fall Semester at a college that deals in magic. Normally, an outsider like her wouldn't have been recruited to help keep order among the magic houses that operate out of the college, but there's something special about Alex: She can see ghosts, a rare gift. At least that's how she's seen. To Alex, it can be more of a curse. One she will have to use though if she is going to find the mentor who mysteriously disappeared earlier that semester under supernatural circumstances.

The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones ****

Most people experience the past coming back to haunt them in some way, shape, or form. But three men who grew up on a reservation feel like they are being haunted by more than the memories of the past. They don't talk about the incident much, not since they were banned from that part of the reservation, but they feel like perhaps they should as they find themselves fighting for their lives against the ramifications of that day.

Thirteen Storeys by Jonathan Sims ***

The apartment complex must be haunted. What else explains the series of horror visitations that happen upon 13 different residents who live in the building? Each storey is unlike the other. Almost a series of short stories, except... they do seem to be connected. Everything seems to point in the direction of the apartment's landowner as each resident receives an unexpected inviation to a dinner at his top floor penthouse in too timely a manner with the unexpected.

Mystery

The Dead and the Dark by Courtney Gould ****

YA. Why is it that the worst of humankind can flourish so proliferous in the most beautiful of places? The small town of Snake Bite is littered with shadows and mystery, and it seems to be targeting the town's teens. First, Ashley's long time boyfriend goes missing, and then newcomer and outcast Logan's new friendly acquaintance is found dead. The town might hate Logan, and Ashley might come from the most prominent family in the town, but the two girls can't help but investigate the odd happenings that disappeared Ashley's boyfriend and implicated one of Logan's dads in that disappearance. The town believes he killed him, Logan is determined to prove him innocent, and Ashley still believes he's alive. She can feel his presence still all around.

In the Woods by Tana French ****

In his childhood, Adam Ryan was out with his friends when those friends went missing. It became a huge story, especially because when they found him, he was so traumatized, he had no memory of what took place. They never solved his mystery, but he became an investigator himself. He thought that was all behind him, except he is put on a case that has a mysterious link to that cold mystery. Ryan shouldn't be working this case, but no one has linked him to it yet, and he can't help but try and see if this new case will reveal anything about his own.

Mistress of the Art of Death by Ariana Franklin ****

Under the rule of King Henry II, within Cambridge, there is amongst the people a deranged serial killer targeting children. The people point the blame at the local Jewish population, but after a raid sequesters them within the castle walls and the killings don't stop, a woman of the station of what we might call today coroner is summoned from out of the country to learn from the dead children what she may to uncover the identity of a serial killer eager to target those who would try to track them down. Historical fiction. Some explicit sexual content.

Classic Halloween Elements

The Coldest Girl in Cold Town by Holly Black *****

YA. Vampires exist, and the world knows about it. The world is dealing with it as best they can. Barriers between overnight workers and the public, habits to close all windows every night, avoid evening events, and the conversion of large towns into prisons for vampires and those who wish to become them. Within this world, Tana is just trying to have a normal teen's life, but that all changes when a drunken night at a friends and a forgotten open window results in her waking up seemingly the only survivor of a vampire attack. That's enough for a teenager to have to deal with, but as it turns out, not all the vampires are gone. (The audiobook for this one is exceptionally creepy and good.)

Carmilla by J. Sheridan Le Fanu *****

Only a novella in length, Carmilla is a fascinating read. Follow a lonely girl outside of her country of origin come to have a visitor, Carmilla, stay at her estate under mysterious circumstances. She quickly finds herself enamored with Carmilla and quickly grows ill with her worry over unhappy events which seem to plague Carmilla overnight. Despite them however, Carmilla seems just as robust as ever despite her habit to sleep away the mornings. This book predates Dracula, and it strikes me that it lent much of its lore to Stoker's later novel.

Dracula by Bram Stoker *****

Does anyone actually even need a summary? Look, if you like to read books for Halloween and haven't read this one, just do it. You're on Tumblr; make sure you know what all the Dracula Daily posts are going on about. They're excelle

The Best of Edgar Allan Poe

I have never read an author that, in so little time of story, manages to dredge up so much feeling of dread. If you want to set a dark and dreary mood, Poe's your man. In today's age, I don't know that his stories come off nearly as spooky as they once did, but they certainly evoke a sort of low mood spooky stories often aim for. It's like the counter of a thriller which often evokes high, frantic energy instead of the low, desolate mood of Poe's work.

The Exorcist by William Blatty ****

What is more horrific than watching a beloved child deteriorate into self harm and bad health and getting no answers, having to trust to faith instead of anything you've trusted before. Or how about a believer faced with evil powers one never expected to truly come face to face with?

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley ****

What can have more than classic Halloween elements than a classic horror tale??

The Girl in the Green Silk Gown by Seanan McGuire *****

Sometimes, living is the true thing of nightmares. Such is the case for the hitchhiking ghost Rose Marshall. She's hitched the ghost roads for decades longer than she's been alive and content with her undead existence despite being haunted still by the man who killed her, demon-pact and all. When he curses her, she finds that only by living again can she remove the curse. It was only supposed to last one evening, the only evening the dead can return to flesh: Halloween night. (This is a book 2)

The Girl with All the Gifts *****

I was so hooked starting this book with zero information about it other than it was a good spooky read, and since it was such an experience, I simply cannot get myself to say much about this. It follows a special child student, her teacher, and the head of the locked down school's security team as they navigate a dystopian world behind walls, and attempts to reach the outside world have proven unsuccessful so far.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson***

One of the classic horror books has to go among classic Halloween! You think you know this story, but if you haven't read it, you likely know less than you think! This is the perfect time of year to check out the original.

Sparrow Hill Road by Seanan McGuire *****

Follow a hitchhiking ghost over the breadth of the continental US. She was run off the Sparrow Hill Road in 1952 on her way to prom and never made it there. Instead she haunts the highways of the US, hitchhiking her way from roadside diner to roadside diner. She finds a calling in spending time with someone before their last moments, fated to die on the road. Sometimes though, she gets to alter that fate. But there is one out there who has an unpleasant fate in mind for her, and he haunts the roads in his immortal demon car, determined to get the prey who escaped him in the early 1950s.

Thirteen Storeys by Jonathan Sims ***

The apartment complex must be haunted. What else explains the series of horror visitations that happen upon 13 different residents who live in the building? Each storey is unlike the other. Almost a series of short stories, except... they do seem to be connected. Everything seems to point in the direction of the apartment's landowner as each resident receives an unexpected inviation to a dinner at his top floor penthouse in too timely a manner with the unexpected.

True Irish Ghost Stories by St. John Seymour & Harry Neligan***

Interested in 'true' ghost stories? Well find here collected stories Seymour and Neligan sought out from real people in Ireland who vouched to the veracity of their accounts. The stories are disjointed and with no real beginning or end, but read much like tales told around the campfire in the dark of night. I mean what is more classic than ghosts, poltergeists, banshees, and the like?

Nonfiction

Penguin Book of Hell by Scott Bruce **

Let's talk about hell. That's what this book is all about, from the ghostly afterlife of the Greeks to the hell we force on others. This follows in a pretty straight line from the Greek/Roman concepts thru the Christian concepts, to attitudes about endless punishment held today.

True Irish Ghost Stories by St. John Seymour & Harry Neligan***

Interested in 'true' ghost stories? Well find here collected stories Seymour and Neligan sought out from real people in Ireland who vouched to the veracity of their accounts. The stories are disjointed and with no real beginning or end, but read much like tales told around the campfire in the dark of night. I mean what is more classic than ghosts, poltergeists, banshees, and the like?

The World of Lore Books by Aaron Mahnke ****

These contain the books Dreadful Places, Wicked Mortals, and Monstrous Creatures. I haven't actually read Wicked Mortals yet, but the other two were perfect for the season and am confident so too Wicked Mortals will be too. Follow Mahnke as he explores the history of these folk tales and spoopy histories! They also work as great audio listens.

It's October, so get ready to see this even more! I still have books I want to add to it that are pending, and more will be added as I read. But I'm always looking for more books to queue up for some spoopy time (and/OR Autumn reading), and when I find there's something I wish there was more of out in the world, I find it helps to put out into it what we'd like to see.

That is to say, please feel free to add to this! I will excitedly look forward to more spoopy recs.

[horrorshow]

hi suzy, happy wincest wednesday :) I know we share a love of protective!Sam -- when do you think that started happening in their lives? Did Sam have to get taller first, lol, or was it some story/life event that precipitated little brother starting to watch out for big brother?

happy ww liz!

i don't think sam's height has anything to do with it actually! i don't think sam thought of himself as stronger or more capable than dean at all. as a kid, sam always looked up at dean, and sam never fully grew out of seeing dean as a hero, so, it's not about that.

easy answer is of course that john trained them from a very young age to never trust anyone but each other. so due to the way they lived and the amount of danger they encountered on a daily basis, sam has always been more protective of dean than other siblings would be. and dean was very protective of him, while sam tried to be just like his big brother, so he wouldn't hesitate to protect dean in turn.

but besides that, i think sam's protectiveness of dean specifically developed hand in hand with his rebellion against john and hunting. and i imagine that started when sam was old enough to stay home alone, while john took dean 'away from him' on hunts.

i can't imagine how horrible it must have been for sam, as a kid, to be all alone in a motel room, waiting for his only family to return, not knowing IF they'd even return, being fully aware of the danger they were in, how often he must have waited impatiently for the promised 'we're okay' phonecall that wasn't on time, or dean and john returning hours or days later than planned, not in one piece, sam running to get the first aid kit, wounds, broken bones, stitches, bruises, all kinds of injuries, dean either too hyper or too quiet or completely out of it, but never truly the dean sam knew. anyone who has ever been worried about a sibling like that, or saw a sibling in serious pain knows that stuff stays with you. it's horrible. and when that person is the only long term relationship you have outside of your dad... there's so much to lose.

i have one very specific mental image of sam coming home from school in the middle of the afternoon, to a bruised and bloodied dean - just back from a long hunt - in dirty clothes asleep on the couch, looking hurt and exhausted and vulnerable, with sam staring at him, at first VERY relieved that he's home safe, but that fast making place for an anger on how UNFAIR and wrong it all is, how NONE of this is normal, combined with sam's constant uncertainty and anxiety and fear, suddenly wishing fiercely for a normal life where he and dean are both safe at school instead of having to deal with any of this, i think sam felt FURIOUS in that moment and that it shocked him how much anger he could feel towards hunting and his dad for doing this to them.

basically, sam tried to win dean back from john. not because sam thought dean was incapable of looking out for himself, but because dean belonged with sam. because sam would love him better. because with john there was always the threat of danger. so... his protective streak started as a bit naive and selfish, but i'm 100% convinced that it came from a place of love bc he was aware of how messed up their lives were, and bc he cared for dean and wanted him to be safe.

(and of course, it was never simply just about that. sam felt lonely and an outsider in his own family and he missed how close he and dean used to be. and a part of him tried to embrace hunting the same way dean did, but finding himself unable to, and a part of him was jealous of dean's special bond with john, making him feel even more cut off. his feelings for dean and his dad were always complicated)

i think sam always hoped, and even expected, that dean would eventually see the light and join his side. that dean would stop seeing him as his kid brother, but would listen to him and agree with his reasoning, and whatever they'd do next, they'd do it together, as equals. and that dean would somehow be grateful for it. so if he convinced john to postpone a hunt or go alone, so he could have dean with him, and dean could rest and do some homework and they could have fun or even if he was just hanging around or they'd argue or if dean stayed out all night, sam knew he'd come back in one piece to him with jokes and stories to tell him and that's what mattered. every win sam could get for dean like that was also a win for himself. in sam's mind they were supposed to be on the same team fighting the same fight, even if he had to do all the work himself to pry dean from john's hands.

but, one problem: sam was a kid, and he only ever looked at it from his own perspective, he didn't understand why dean did what dean did or what dean needed. he naively thought nudging him in the right direction would be enough. sam didn't understand why dean kept choosing john's side, didn't understand why dean didn't stand up for himself more, couldn't rhyme dean's obedience to john with his concept of the heroic big brother who could do ANYTHING he set his mind to. and with every year that passed they only drifted further apart bc of this, until it exploded.

but despite stanford and all that happened since, i love how sam only grew more protective of dean, in newer and even more bizarre ways, and he eventually got dean exactly where he wanted him, safe and happy at his side😌❤️ so it all ends well when it ends well! for a while at least :/

[venus-haze]

You've done vampire!Elvis but how about Werewolf!Elvis? I can only imagine...

I went with a but of a horror movie route for this one, I hope you don’t mind! I specifically though of Elvis’ cover of Blue Moon from his debut album for the howling and overall tone of this, it’s like the perfect combination of haunting and romantic🖤

Werewolf!Austin!Elvis x Reader

Warnings: Dark themes such as obsessive and manipulative behavior, mentions of body horror/gore, and elements of isolation, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

You’re walking home alone at night and with each step want to berate yourself for being too stupid to not call someone when you last passed a payphone. The full moon was bright, which should have quelled some of your nerves. Instead, a chill rolls down your spine

Too afraid to look behind you, you know you’re being watched, or followed, or both. You keep walking, your heart racing despite not doing anything strenuous, and when you finally muster up the courage to glance over your shoulder, there is, in fact, a man a few yards behind you

You start running because it can’t hurt things, until he starts running too, and for some reason, you decide to make a break for it in the nearby wooded area, hoping you can lose him at some point, but it seems like he knows them better than you do

Out of breath and terrified, you take refuge behind a tree, hoping you can make it back out to the road without him noticing. You hear a rustling in the autumn leaves that have fallen to the ground, and when you peek out from your hiding place you see a wolf, and you almost wish it had been the man instead when it begins howling almost hauntingly

You make the panicked decision to start running again, which works out about as well as it did the first time, and lose your way under the tree cover, slipping on wet leaves and tumbling down the hill littered with gnarled tree roots and sharp stones. As you go in an out of consciousness, you know you’re dead

Until you’re not, and you wake up with a major headache and an sharp pain in your side that prevents you from moving. You’re not sure where you are, but not long after you regain consciousness a man who looks like he could have been a movie star comes into the room, relief on his face

“Jesus, girl, I was startin’ to worry you’d never wake up,” he says. “You feelin’ alright?”

“Just my head and pretty much everything else,” you answer. “Why didn’t you bring me to a doctor?”

He jerks his head toward the window, rain pouring down outside. “Road’s washed out. The rain was startin’ to get real bad when I found you. What were you doin’ by your lonesome out there anyway?”

You recount the situation to him, and he looks genuinely concerned, which makes you feel a bit better. When he relays that he doesn’t have a phone, being so far out from town, your mood sinks just as quickly. The more you observe the place, the more you notice it doesn’t have much of anything. You know people are looking for you, but with the road washed out by the downpour and no phone, there’s no way to let anyone know where you are

He could have left you for dead, though, this man who had so little himself, and yet he took you in. He shares that his name is Elvis, and a handsome smile spreads across his face when you tell him yours

He spends the next week or so tending to the gash you have in your abdomen, and you can hardly stand to look at it because of how deep it is. Still, it’s healing a lot better than you expected from a man in a cabin in the woods who wouldn’t give you a straight answer when you asked him what he did for a living or how he could possibly survive on his own out there

When Elvis thinks you’re asleep, he goes out at night and only returns hours later, close to sunrise, yet he shows no signs of exhaustion in the mornings

Though the rain’s subsided, the road is still washed out, and you come to terms with being stuck with Elvis for longer than you’d expected. Not that you mind, he’s charming and funny, but you feel like a burden, and whenever you try to do something like clean up a little or cook, he insists it’s not good while you’re still recovering

As it nears a month since that terrifying night, you notice his behavior becoming increasingly erratic, especially when he comes back from his nightly outing to god knows where and declares his love for you at what you figure must be four o’clock in the morning, kissing you passionately and then not acknowledging it at all as the two of you eat breakfast just a few hours later

Washed out road or not, you need to get out of there. Not long after Elvis leaves around his usual time, you sneak out too, figuring it couldn’t be too hard to find the road from where you were, until you walk far enough to realize there is no road and you can hear an a familiar howling that makes your blood curdle—loud, clear and far too close for comfort

Then you see it, the silhouette that’s haunted your dreams for the past month approaching, getting closer until you recognize Elvis’ face contorted in pain and panic. “I knew it was you, Y/N. It had to be you,” he says frantically, stumbling forward toward you. “You should be ready now. This won’t hurt you”

“What? What are you talking about?” you ask, unable to produce any more words as you witness his painful and grotesque transformation under the silver moonlight. You stare at the wolf before you, unsure of what to do next, but he makes his move first, lunging straight for your throat

Taglist: @eliseinmemphis @kittenlittle24 @crash-and-cure @im-lame-irl @loudwombatmugkid @rxsesss @roseymary04 @queendelrey @jovialladyaurora @positivitylane112 @moonknightswif3 @holy-minseok @datsavageavenger @21bruhs @luckyevansstan

[faofinn]

22. Terms of Endearment/Nicknames

Part 2 to a fic we wrote for our very own MediwhumpMay! Enjoy

Part 1 | Part 2

What he didn’t miss, though, was the familiar face of one of his amazing colleagues leaning over him. “Hey, Fao. Didn’t expect to see you back here so soon, thought we sent you home? Don’t worry, we’ve got you now. Only the best for one of our own. I’ve got some pain relief for you here - oxy, don’t panic, I know what you can’t have - because that paracetamol isn’t going to be doing a lot for you, I’ll bet. Then we’ll get  you checked out, get you to CT, and go from there. Sound like a plan?”

He sighed in relief. “Yeah, thanks.” 

There was a moment of quiet, the nurses' conversations stopping. "For the love of God, please tell me this isn't Fao."

Fao sighed. “I wish it wasn’t?”

"Fuck this. I'm done." Finn muttered. "I'm done, I've had enough of this shift. I'm done."

“Finn!” Fao called out, but it wasn’t like he could go after his brother. Fuck’s sake. 

He took a moment outside the bay to compose himself, swearing under his breath at every deity he knew. With a heavy sigh, he returned to Fao's side. 

"You know when I call you dickhead and that's just your nickname? I bloody mean it this time." He squeezed Fao's hand, stretching to press a kiss to his forehead, brushing the damp hair away. "You're gonna be okay, yeah? I promise."

Fao managed a weak smile, still soaked to the skin and freezing cold. “Nicknames ‘ave gotta come from somewhere.”

"You don't need to live up to them, though."

“Mm, sometimes. Not my fault.”

"I'm sure. Where's the pain at the moment? Still bad?"

“Mm. Getting better?”

"That's good. Did you pass out?"

“No, don’t think so.”

"You sure? You've got a bruise coming up on your forehead, and you're talking like you're concussed."

“Pretty sure I hit my head, but I don’t remember blacking out. Feel concussed.”

"You're gonna be." He sighed. "I can't treat, you know that. The cons is coming, he won't be long."

“Yeah. Is nice jus’ having you.”

"I'll call mum in a sec, too. She can come and be with you." He paused. "You feel absolutely frozen. Have we got a temp yet? Not reading? Why didn't anyone say? Can someone get the bear hugger, please?"

“Mum’s gonna kill me.” He mumbled, as they set up the bear hugger to try and get some warmth back into Fao. It worked, and he definitely felt more comfortable with the warm air on him. 

"I don't blame her."

“Wasn’t my fault.” He protested. 

"I know."

He shifted uncomfortably, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. “‘M sorry.”

"Hey, hey, no. No sorry."

“Mm, still.”

"Just hold on for me."

“Yeah. The person I hit?”

"What about them?"

“They okay?”

"I'm sure they will be."

“Find out?”

"You're my priority."

“Please? ’m fine.”

"No, Fao. You're the priority."

He huffed. “Fine. When’s CT? I want to sit up.”

"As soon as we can."

“Ugh.”

"Don't ugh me."

“Can if I want to.”

"I'll tell mum." Finn threatened. 

“She’ll be on my side, ‘m hurt.”

"She won't."

“Might.”

Finn softened. "Do you want me to get Hars?"

“Shit. I was supposed to be home hours ago.”

"Yeah, he'll be worried sick."

“I left late too. Can I call him?”

"You'll have to use my phone."

Fao realised then he didn’t know where his was. Probably still in his car. Hars would be going mad. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Finn dug round in his pockets, finally finding his phone. Harrison had already messaged him, and Finn said a silent apology to the other man as he rang, passing the phone to Fao. He balanced it by the blocks, loud enough for him to hear. 

Fao practically held his breath as it rang, waiting for Harrison to pick up, probably crazy with worry. 

“Hars? It’s me.” Fao got out, as he heard it pick up. 

"Where are you? What's going on? Why's Finn ringing me? Are you okay?" His voice wavered. "Please tell me you're okay."

“‘M okay, ‘m okay. Finn’s with me. I, uh, I crashed the car, I’m in ED.”

Harrison was silent, the phone failing from his hand. He'd known something was wrong, he'd just felt it, and he was right. This wasn't fair. 

Fao heard the phone clatter, and he winced. “Hars? Tomcat?”

Fao's voice snapped him back to reality. "I'm on my way. I'll be as quick as I can."

“‘M okay, I swear. A bit concussed but…”

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "You're alive, we can deal with anything else."

“Yeah. Waiting on CT now, but not so bad. Drive safe?”

"I will. Do you need anything?" He'd already grabbed his Eeyore from the bed. 

Even concussed, Fao knew he wasn’t getting discharged that evening. “Uh, clothes and toiletries?”

"Yeah, I've got the hospital bag."

“That’s all I need. That and you.”

"I won't be long, promise." He said, fighting with the keys to lock the door. 

“Don’t rush, be safe.” He mumbled. “Weather is shit.”

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be careful."

“Thank you. Love you.”

"Love you too, Wolfie."

“Sorry I didn’t call sooner.”

"It's okay, it's okay. You called me."

“Always.”

He turned the keys in the ignition. "Thank you."

“I’ll let you drive, yeah?”

"I've got you on speaker, but if you need to go."

“Nothin’ is happening quick.” Fao grumbled. 

"We're doing our best." Finn shot back.

Fao shot him a look. “Shit service here.”

"Don't be mean to us." Harrison managed to laugh down the phone. 

Fao managed a grin. “‘Cause you’re not working.”

"Oh, is that why?"

“Yeah.” He mumbled, fidgeting with his other foot, still uncomfortable. 

"Be nice to Finn."

“I am really. He’s good.”

"He's doing surprisingly well." Finn called to Harrison. "I'm not in charge or treating, but I'm gonna ultrasound your abdo while we wait. I'm not having anything happen because of the delays."

“Mm, ‘Kay.” He mumbled, knowing full well he didn’t have a choice. He just wanted this all to be over, or at least the scan done so he could sit up and get out of the blocks. It was so uncomfortable and he couldn’t stand staring at the ceiling. 

"You're doing really well." Finn praised gently. "I know it's shit."

“Yeah.”

"Let me know if it hurts."

“Mm. Is not good.”

"No? It's hurting?"

“A bit.” He admitted. The painkillers he’d had had helped, but it was still painful. Everything was. 

"When I'm scanning? Or just your leg?"

“Both? It’s sore.”

"Alright, I'm sorry." He said softly. "Can we get some more pain medication please?"

“Thanks.” Fao mumbled, feeling pathetic.

Finn hummed, distracted. "You're gonna be okay."

Fao frowned at him. “‘M fine.”

"Yeah, exactly."

“Consultant soon?”

"Yeah, he's on his way."

“Okay.”

Finn looked past the screen to the nurse. "Can you just chase them for me? Did we have an estimate for gensurg or ortho?"

Fao whined. “Gensurg? No.”

"Uh, I'm not sure."

"Page them again. Tell them they've got two fucking traumas waiting." He grumbled, unlike Finn. 

“Finn.” Fao reached up for his brother. 

"What? Lie still, Fao, I'm nearly done."

“Gensurg? Talk to me.”

"Just give me a minute. Try lie still."

Fao made a frustrated noise. It was late, he was exhausted and sore, and now his brother wouldn’t tell him what was going on. It wasn’t fair. 

"Just a minute." He repeated. "Nearly there."

The pain meds they’d given him were starting to kick in a bit now, serving mostly just to make him spaced. It was still uncomfortable where Finn was pressing, but the pain in his leg was more bearable. He wanted to see what was going on, but he couldn’t, and trying to look around just made him dizzy. 

“Fine.”

Finn took a few more minutes, struggling to see what he wanted. He was convinced there was a lac, but it didn't seem enough to rush to surgery. That, and his pressure was maintaining. He gave a heavy sigh. 

"Can we get a space in x-ray?" He asked the nurse, shooting them a smile before moving back to Fao. "Hey, dickhead."

The nurse nodded. “Of course, I’ll speak to them. I just chased CT, they said there was just one more before him.” 

Fao looked up at his brother. “Finished poking me now?”

"Reasonably."

“And? What was the scan like?”

He sighed. "You've got free fluid in your abdomen. I don't know if you'll need surgery for that."

“Fuck, no.”

"You're concussed. You don't have the capacity to make those decisions."

“My capacity isn’t that impaired.” He grumbled. “But I’m not refusing. I jus’ want to talk it through. All you’ve done is talk over me.”

Finn softened. "I was just trying to see what you'd done. I didn't want to miss something and tell you lies. Your leg…your leg is probably going to need surgery too, but you've got reasonable response in the foot, so it's not top of the list.

He hummed. If he was honest, he’d sort of been expecting that answer for the leg. It hadn’t looked great even in the ambulance. “I know, an’ US is hard, but… it’s shit when I can’t see anything and all ‘m getting is half the story.”

"I'm sorry for talking over you. It's hard because you know the words we throw about, and - no offense - you're not quite in the right state to understand how we're using them right now. I didn't want to say anything you'd take the wrong way and kick off."

Fao knew that really, but being able to understand it meant that it was easy to take off the wrong way regardless. He nodded, biting his lip. “Yeah. It’s hard though.”

"I know. I'm sorry."

“It’s shit.” He grumbled. “I had a shit shift, too.”

"Yeah?"

“Didn’t leave until nearly ten.” He huffed. “Wanted my bed."

"That's shit. "

“Yeah. And now I’m here.”

"Now you've got me to put up with."

He managed a smile. “Yeah.”

"Fucking shit trade."

“Exactly.”

"You're not supposed to agree with me!" Finn protested in good nature. 

“Yeah, whatever.”

"Alright. How's that pain now?"

“Bit better.”

"That's good."

“Yeah.”

"Just let us know, yeah?"

“I will.” Fao murmured. “Will you find Hars when he gets here? Look after him?”

"He's an adult, Fao."

“And?”

"And I'll keep an eye out for him."

Fao reached for his brother’s hand. “Thank you.”

Finn took it, squeezing gently. "Always."

Not long after that, porters arrived to take Fao to CT. He really didn’t want to let go of Finn’s hand, but knew he didn’t have much of a choice, biting his lip as he let go. The consultant had arrived by then, and pulled Finn aside gently. 

“You’ve done great, do you want to step back now, let us take over?”

Finn’s anxiety had flared and reached levels he didn’t realise he had. He folded his arms roughly, his jaw set to make him feel stronger than he felt. 

"Am I going to have to leave him?"

“No, you don’t have to leave him. Just maybe take a step back from treating him. I’ll give you the rest of your shift off.”

"You'll have to find cover." Finn murmured distractedly.

“Let me worry about that.”

"Are you sure?"

“Yeah, of course. He’s your brother, we’ll cope.”

Finn sighed. "Thank you."

“Go on, you can go with him to imaging. Is Harrison coming in?”

"Can I go in with him?" He asked hopefully.  

“That’ll be up to them, but you can certainly go with him and ask.”

Relief flooded his features. "Thank you."

“Go on, go and catch up to him.”

"Thank you." He said again, rushing after them. 

They’d been quick to get things set up, awaiting Fao. They’d expected Finn to be there, but hadn’t seen him yet, and so carried on, chatting away to Fao as they did. He did his best to reply, slightly hazy from the meds and the exhaustion. With everything ready, they moved to transfer him across. 

Fao knew full well it was going to hurt, it wasn’t exactly the first time he’d done this, and pressed his lips together, trying to think of something else. It didn’t go well, though, as halfway between the trolley and the scanner he slipped, the slide sheet under him ripping and totally giving out under him. Of course there wasn’t anything he could do about it, and everything hit the bed of the scanner with a clatter, including him. His bad leg took the brunt of it and he couldn’t help but swear, the string of profanity a mix of English and Irish. It was a burst of pain that made his vision blur and his head spin. 

Finn had just pushed the door open as everything went sideways. He froze in the doorway, the nausea immediately overwhelming as it felt like the earth dropped from below his feet. He was frozen in place despite his brother’s outburst of pain, despite wanting to be by his side holding his hand and helping him. Even from across the room, he knew it was bad, beyond bad. Fao had already broken his leg, they knew that, but suddenly there was bone sticking through the skin, and blood everywhere from his pulled IV. He couldn't breathe. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real.

Fao hadn’t seen Finn, the angles just not quite right. What he did know was that the pain in his leg wasn’t getting any better, and there was blood everywhere where his cannula had been ripped out. The swearing stopped, trailing off as the initial shock died down. He felt sick to his stomach, though, his mouth dry with fear. 

“What the fuck jus’ happened?”

"We're going to get you sorted, I'm just going to get the consultant."

Fao whined, trying to exhale slowly and control his breathing, the pain just getting worse and worse. “Fuck.”

The consultant was quick to arrive, pushing past Finn. It didn't look good, not in the slightest, and he pursed his lips. "What the fuck happened?"

“I don’t know.” Fao mumbled. 

“I’m not sure.” One of the staff murmured. “Everything just slipped, I think the slide sheet went.”

"I need someone to page ortho yesterday, and I need as much fucking pain relief as we can get." He snapped.

“He’ll need a new cannula in.”

Fao could feel the blood running down his arm, tickling as it went, and he sighed. It had been a hard enough stick the first time, and now things were ten times worse. All he wanted was more pain relief. 

"You're fucking kidding me." He groaned. "Let's get some penthrox then, someone get a line in.”

“I’m a really bad stick.” Fao said, doing his best to focus on the consultant. 

He shot Fao a smile. "I was warned. We're going to get you sorted, I promise. We'll get that leg immobilised further, but I'm going to get you some sedation too, make it a bit easier for you."

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Fao asked. Whilst he couldn’t see, he could certainly tell. 

"It's not great."

“Fuck’s sake.”

"The surgery is going to have to be done tonight now."

“Where’s Finn?”

"He's…he's just sorting some stuff out." Fao didn’t need to know where his brother really was.

Fao frowned. That seemed fully like an excuse, but he didn’t have the thought processing power to work out what was really going on. “Hars?”

"I'm sure he's here."

“Can I see him?” 

"Let me go see, yeah?"

“Thank you.” He said, forcing himself to take another deep breath and closing his eyes.  

The voices outside were familiar, and more than just Finn and the nurses. He headed out to find Harrison, unsure how he was actually supposed to explain what had just happened. 

Thankfully Harrison wasn’t hard to find, outside talking to a rather pale and worried looking Finn. The consultant cleared his throat, heading over to them. 

“Hi, you two."

"Can you tell me what the fuck is happening?"

He managed a wry smile. “I’ll do my best. How much have you been told? Why don’t we find somewhere to sit down and talk?”

He shot a look at Finn. "He's not been much use, which means it's bad."

“It’s a lot to take in.” The consultant said carefully, glancing at Finn. “I’m sure you know earlier this evening Fao was involved in a collision on his way home from work. He’s appeared a bit concussed, and we’re concerned about a fracture to his right tib fib, as well as potential internal injuries to his abdomen.”

"It's now a fucking open fracture." Finn managed, arms folded tightly. 

The consultant winced. “Yeah, which was what I was getting to. Obviously we wanted a CT, which we’re still going to get. However it looks like there was an incident during the transfer across; I wasn’t there, unfortunately, but, well, there’s no good way to really say this. Essentially he was dropped during the transfer and as a result that fracture is now open. I’m sorry.”

"What the fuck." Harrison muttered to himself. "So, the plan now? Can I go and see him before you get started? "

The consultant nodded. “Plan is get this CT done, then straight to x-ray so we get a better idea of what we’re looking at. Then ortho will be down to see him, but likely he’ll be in theatre tonight. He’s asked for you, so you can go and see him now if you’re quick.”

"Right." He nodded, chewing on his lip. "Look after Finn, will you?"

“Of course. Come on, Finn. We’ll go and get a cuppa.”

Finn nodded slowly. "O-okay."

He put a gentle hand on Finn’s arm, shepherding him away to the staff room, to let Harrison in to see his boyfriend. One of the HCAs looked up as Harrion came in, smiling. “Oh, Dr Cunningham.”

"It's just Harrison." He said softly, moving to Fao's side. "Hey, I'm here."

“Tomcat.” Fao reached out for him, relieved he was there.

"I've got you." He grabbed onto Fao's hand, gripping it tight. "You're gonna be okay."

He hummed, feeling the effects of the meds they’d topped him up with. “They fucked up.” He said, but he was grinning. “Oops.”

"You're in a better mood than Finn is."

Fao frowned. “Is he ‘kay?”

"He's stressed, saw the whole thing, so it's taking a bit of a toll on him. He's gone for coffee with the consultant."

“Oh. ‘m fine.” 

"Your leg got a bit more broken."

“Hurt like fuck.” 

"It's open now. "

“Oops.”

"Oops is right."

“An… an accident.”

"Yeah, but you're okay." He stroked the hair he could. "You're okay."

“Mm. Scan soon.” He mumbled, looking around. “Finn was fussin’.”

"Yeah, soon."

“Bleeding.”

"From your iv you pulled out."He said softly.

He frowned. “I didn’t pull it.” He protested. “But not jus’ that. Inside, Finn said.”

"Ah, yeah. That's why they're wanting the scan."

“Mm. Was prodding me.”

"He's a dick, isn't he?"

“He is.” Fao agreed. “Am I still bleeding?” He asked, trying to see his arm. 

"Ah, ah. Lie still." Harrison said softly. "They've sorted it."

“Oh, okay.”

"Just relax."

“Yeah, relax.” Fao grumbled. 

"Don't grumble at me, Wolfie. I didn't do it."

“Hard to relax.”

"I know it is."

“Sorry.”

"Don't be."

He hummed. “Hate this.”

"I know."

“Can you stay?”

"I'd like to see them try and move me."

Fao managed a smile. “Good.” Then he paused. “How bad is it? Be honest.”

"It's not great. You've had worse, you've had a lot worse."

“The bar is kinda low with that one.”

"That's not my fault."

“No. The opposite.” Fao mumbled. “Can I get a hug?”

Harrison leaned over awkwardly, pressing a kiss to Fao's forehead as he did so. "Better?"

Fao smiled. “Much.”

"Good."