#and there’s this patch of land that looks like all the other graveyards | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

foxclcves · 4 months

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𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒚𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒆 (𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 02)

The bell tolled from the chapel, and he watched the procession from its steps, its architecture one that could have challenged him in age and fading color. The old bell at the very top looked black from where he stood under the ever persistent overcast sky, its low peal uneven and fading as its swinging slowed, and slower still. The one who rang it did not see the gathering of darkly clad visitors, walking with slow precision through patches of snow and sleeping grass, the landscape a canvas of grays, browns, and the bleak whiteness that would plague the land for months to come. Upon some shoulders, a small coffin of one dearly departed.

Sometimes, he would watch them be buried, when his reminder did not chide him so; a silver pocket watch, its finish and gleam as radiant as it had ever been, the only thing that had followed him all this time. When he was needed, it would let out a single chime, one only he could hear. But now it was silent, and he watched the plot in the earth awaiting its newcomer. He smiled with respite in mind, pulling into his lungs winter’s own breath. A satisfying plume of air followed.

He descended the stairs and ventured toward the gathering, weaving symmetrically between gravestones and mausoleums. He had been here before, and knew every marker and structure by heart. He remembered the chapel as it once was; a young couple decades old, its cemetery meeker. And how things had grown, how they changed. He witnessed plots filling, tombstones grounded, monuments built or brought in from elsewhere. People of all classes, ethnics, and economic background were carried here to lie to rest, and others continued to follow, all the same now. In the end, it was the ultimate equalizer, the common graveyard. Hallowed ground was the most peaceful he knew of. Disputes ceasing; hostility, ignorance, and misery quieted.

And yet, despite their silence, he would regale them on the newest and profound literature mortality continued to create, technologies and social movements. Despite what their stances on the now or then controversial would have been in life, they could not argue now. ‘Life goes on you see, despite your reservations,’ he would say with his chin tilted downward and his eyes on a carved name or two at a time, in a similar manner a school teacher would have when addressing a reluctant or resistant student. ‘But you are here, now. Worry not, worry not.’

His feet came to a stop at the end of the plot, the coffin having been lowered into it already. He noticed something like a flower, a rose perhaps, with an intricate border, carved into its top center. He acknowledged it with a nod. Hello, again. He glanced over the mournful gathered, hats removed and veils concealing faces. Such crowds, such faces and emotions, used to antagonize him. But now, he just kept his pleasant smile and stood among them as though he was among them. He knew this—grief, to be the greatest agony had to offer. But he also knew something that these sorrowful ones did not. A good decision was made, and they need not worry. Of course, he could not tell them that, even if he wanted to. They would have to rely on their own strength, use their own discretion toward their time, perhaps their faith if they were so inclined. His disposition was positive in spite of their current melancholy, he could not help it. Perhaps he had become desensitized, but mortality was strong even in weakness; humans, remarkably resilient, even in death.

And so he consoled them internally, still feeling what he could for a sleepless mother, a regretful father, the trembling and struggle of a friend, or perhaps lover, he could not tell. When all was said and done, all departed. The plot was filled, flowers and trinkets placed with care to frame the tombstone also engraved with the design the coffin possessed, and words were said, and words were unsaid; kept for a later time, likely.

The cemetery became silent, the occasional crow sounding off in the distance. He regarded the new grave with tender observation, for he would memorize it too; its shape and color, its inscriptions and dates. He stepped forward, placing one gloved hand on top of the tombstone.

The small crackling of fallen pine needles caught his attention, and he looked over his shoulder. A small, black form tread quietly toward him, and he straightened upon recognizing it to be a cat. One he knew very well, in fact. He stepped back, respectively, and pocketed his hands as the cat padded across the grave. In front of the tombstone, it dropped a small, lifeless rodent, and sat with its head lifted expectantly. He chuckled at the offering, despite being used to witnessing such a display.

The cat, by any none the wiser, had a normal appearance and size, even to those with their superstitions. Silent, he was; never mewed, hissed, or snarled no matter what turn of events might lie before him. But his eyes, oh, how peculiar they were; not one color but many at once, reminding one of the iridescent gleam oil possessed once spilled. No slits of pupils or whites were in those eyes, seemingly blind to the world. But when they fell upon you, it was hard to look away, whether you found yourself hypnotized or fearful. But they were not unseeing, and not piercing. They were hollow; reflective, like a mirror. Hence, his namesake: Hollow, ‘the grave robber’. He wondered what people saw when they looked into those eyes, as he was apparently immune to that unwavering gaze. Was it the future, or perhaps a glimpse into their inner most selves? Well, he didn’t quite know.

“Hello, old boy,” he greeted Hollow, who had left his prior spot and leaped up onto the shoulder of a stone angel nearby. “Hunting voles again, are we?”

Hollow continued to watch him quietly, ears inquisitive in his direction. The cat never blinked, of course; he saw everything, as was his niche, and blinking would only hinder him. The two of them were very much alike, he thought not for the first time; undying, prevailing through years and years and more, but the biggest difference was that humans could see Hollow: the strange black cat in the cemetery, its origins and purpose unknown. Such stories they came up with—bad luck, a witch nearby using the cat to spy on things, to determine which bones were most ripe to dig up, for spells or consumption. Or perhaps it was a creature you would not want to meet in the dead of night, as it might expand drastically in size, steal your soul or devour you entirely. Such overthinking, or was it? Perhaps Hollow did have an agenda unawares to him. Or perhaps Hollow spent his eternity digging rodents out of the resting places of many passed loved ones of the wary folk... or excessively licking his nether regions. As you do.

Well, they were right about one thing: Hollow’s primary caretaker was indeed a witch, and a very old one, too. Cranky and brash as she was, her magick was always well meaning and directed towards herbs, medicine, protection, and luck. He happened upon her once, but only from a distance, and he made a note to officially introduce himself at a later time, as he had received many a mouse and small rabbit that at this point, it was rude not to stop by for a spot of tea.

Hollow’s head jerked and his unfaltering stare focused on something, and without warning he lunged from his perch and took chase. He smirked and stepped forward again, clapping his hands slowly when the elusive feline vanished from sight. “Good show, sir. Never will I tolerate a word of you not doing your part. Good show.”

And then, there it was—dark red in his peripheral vision, like the color of leaves clutching still to frozen tree branches. Something swelled in his chest, but when he turned his head to find that the color vanished, he became completely still. His gaze remained on the slightest of slopes where he swore he saw warmth in a hibernating land. It had moved behind a crypt covered in thick, brown vines, its leaves twisted and shriveled. Turning from the new grave, he made his way toward the slope. Snow began to fall, once again.

He walked all around the crypt and peered inside, but he found nothing. A cardinal perhaps, he thought, soaring to a suitable tree. Or a red fox, happening on its way in search for food. But no, something wasn’t right. He could not see even Hollow now, and the grounds were vacant, not even a grave digger in sight. His eyes narrowed, and his feet carried him through the cemetery. Past meager headstones, past names washed away by the elements; persisting through grounds centuries old and paying no mind to what sort of creatures hid there. He passed through a small throng of trees, the wind picking up and whistling by his ears, frigidity not felt.

He came upon a lush trail of velvet and silk, draped and rippling atop the snow. This gave him pause and he inclined his head, eyes following the trail to its end. A woman was kneeling before an elaborate sculpture of two angels; soft in demeanor, reaching out to one another with open arms and arcing wings, but not quite touching. Her gown was impossibly long, its layers of dark green suiting the scenery she found herself in, or purposefully wandered into. Her hair, loose and curling down her back from a bowed head, caused him to reminisce of autumn, fleetingly. She was the one who nearly evaded his notice, and that did not sit well with him.

Curious, and acquainted with a strange familiarity and, stranger yet, dread, he approached her. Methodically, his head tilted to catch a glimpse of her profile, but her plentiful locks were too dense for him to do so. When the woman lifted her head, he stopped. In spite of himself and what he knew better, he wondered if she could hear his shoes crunching in the snow, if she was aware of his presence. She wouldn’t have been. If she were human.

The snowfall continued around them, consistent but subtle. The sky continued to be vacant of any hint of change or an oncoming blizzard; empty of any threat, or snidely keeping any reassurances to itself, if it had any to spare at all. The woman did not move for the longest time, nor did she speak, and he mused if she were deep in thought or if, like the angels before her, she had turn to stone before his very eyes. Frozen, preserved in whatever state her mind and body had created for her, and evergreen skirts soon to be buried under a new layer of snow.

And so deep in thought that he himself had become he almost didn’t notice that the woman let out a laugh. One that crept toward him, snaking its way into the ground and through the surrounding trees’ roots, it was deep, slow, and held no joy. It stunned him as it left the ground and shot up his heels, making his legs feel as though they had given way when they had in fact locked at the knees. If he had any inclination of leaving her to her thoughts, such an action was halted.

In a movement so gradual and fluid, the woman ascended to her feet, which were concealed under her gown. He noted now that she had no protection from the cold, not even a cloak. He could tell from the backs of her arms that her hands were laced together, or that her palms were near each other. Her head lifted to look at the angels fully. “I don’t pity them,” she said. “Such melancholy, to be captured within arm’s reach of your greatest confidante, but to never touch them or feel their breath upon your face. How tragic.”

And her voice, so deep and like warm honey, resonated within him. And yet, why could he not speak or look away? What was this sensation of dryness in his mouth and throat, the subtle aching in his chest? He could not even reach up to place his hand on it, his arms useless at his sides.

“I am familiar,” the woman spoke again, her voice softening into an almost murmur. Surely, she spoke to the angels, and not him. “Yes, and how I remember the feeling of being within arm’s reach, and having it all taken away. And having none to blame, but one.”

The pines around them seemed taller now, and their brittle canopies curved inward dizzyingly. Oh yes, he was all too familiar, but could not recall ever being a direct target. His legs had gone numb entirely, and his arms felt as though they had disintegrated. The faces of the angels—they were angels no longer. Like wax from a lit candle they melted, contorted; dainty hands turning into elongated talons, faces thinning, mouths becoming fangs that dripped.

After a moment, she chuckled. This time, the sound was heavy; charred, as smoke. "Do you pity me, or are you coming to terms with your own mortality, the one you’ve forgotten? If the former, I plead you to worry not. But if the latter, well... I will allow you a moment to console yourself. It can't be helped, after all."

His silence felt like an oath now, forced upon him, and he was stricken for reasons incomprehensible to him. The woman turned to face him, and her bodice revealed a massacre. Torn was evergreen satin and snow lace, ripped was flesh. Her rib cage gleamed crimson and ivory under the overcast sun, and wet blood glistened down nearly her entire front. Exposed lungs filled and emptied with shallow breath, shuddering with her mirth. Her heart was missing. Her smile widened, its corners tugging beyond her cheekbones as though by the plucking of strings. Her teeth, sharp like the dreaded Kludde of the wood. Her lips, red with the bloodied spittle coating her chin like a theater curtain.

“But you should know. The both of us,” she intoned, “We died a long time ago.”

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing #creative writing #original writing #writeblr community #writers #foxclcves writing #old projects: lachrymose #project type: nanowrimo #ah yes... this one was my favorite entry at the time #also: hollow continues to be my favorite character in the story... which comes as no surprise to people who know me #... because he is a cat

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tmnt-tychou · 2 years

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Welcome to part three! Warning on this one for language and slight gore. Feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged. (Though please forgive me/remind me if I miss anybody.)

Also, I have found the theme song for this series if you want to listen to it while you read. Click Here

Here is Part One

It Hides Within The Fog

Part Three: Raphael

“Raph, Wait!” He disappeared within the fog and Name ran after him. For a second, she thought she lost him, but then she was able to pick his bulk out of the darkness. His size was difficult to lose for too long.

He paused as she caught up with him. “You coming with me, Short Stack?” He glanced behind them. “Where'd the others go? Leo! Donnie? Mikey!”

No response from the other brothers. The ubiquitous fog had swallowed up all flashlights, brothers, and all other sound. Raphael didn't seemed worried about it. He just frowned at being ignored with a “Whatever. We'll find 'em later.”

Now Name was determined to stay next to him. She had no idea where the other brothers had gone. Though to be honest, if she was going to end up lost in a spooky graveyard with one of them, she would have picked Raphael every time. Not just because he was big and strong, and very protective, but because he felt safe. Everything about the large turtle always felt safe. Like he would never let anything hurt her.

Even the very first time she saw him looming over her, eyes dangerous, she felt in her heart she would be alright. It was something she always meant to tell him. It was just never the right time. Raphael seemed like he was more of a loner, but the reality was that he was constantly around his brothers. He liked being around his brothers. It made it very difficult to get in a private conversation.

Now, she finally had some one on one time with him, but this certainly didn't feel like the right time for expressing the truth of her heart. Not when there was a constant chill running up her spine, making her glance around. Her flashlight raked through the fog as she felt a distinct feeling of being observed. But there was nothing but headstones.

Raphael must have felt it, too. His whole body shuddered and he shook his shoulders as if he were trying to dislodge a physical force hanging off his back. He, too, glanced around at the shadows and then his gaze landed on Name standing at his elbow.

“Stay close to me. I don't want to lose you, too.”

Never. She had no intention of leaving his side, though she didn't say so out loud.

Despite the eerie feeling in the air, Raphael pushed forward deeper into the cemetery as if he were after something specific. His trajectory took them up a steep hill with dead, dry grass and dirt patches. Even with his size, he weaved gracefully around the headstones while Name nearly tripped on the corner of one almost completely buried by nature's overgrowth.

The hill was so steep, it was difficult to see what was perched at the top until they were almost right next to it. A massive slab of rectangular concrete. The biggest headstone they had encountered in the cemetery thus far. Yet, Raphael was confused as he came upon it.

“That's it?” he wondered as he looked it over.

“What's wrong with it?” Name asked.

“I caught a glance of this thing from down there. I thought there was something big on top of it. I wanted to see what it was.” He searched around, shining his flashlight in all directions. Up on the hill, they were above most of the fog with it only swirling around their ankles. Below them, it became thicker and thicker until it swallowed up everything at the bottom.

The full moon was out. Not that it could be seen through the thickness. The fog ate everything like a greedy, amorphous mass. But up here, the moonlight illuminated all that the fog had not consumed. Raphael's eyes glittered from behind his mask as he looked around in confusion.

“Maybe I got turned around. Maybe this isn't the same thing I saw.”

Name had no idea what he had originally noticed before he came up here, but the view was spectacular. So was this headstone. Or whatever it was. While Raphael wandered in confusion, she turned her flashlight on the massive rectangle to inspect it further.

It looked more like an altar than a headstone. Who was buried here? She crouched and inspected the side, looking for any kind of epitaph. Like everything else here, the stone had darkened with age and moss. She managed to find a few inscriptions, but they were eroded away. So badly eroded they didn't even look like English. More like strange symbols.

As she crouched, she grabbed the side of the stone to steady herself and pulled back when she felt wetness. Inspecting her hand in the light, she squeaked in surprise and disgust at the stark red on her skin.

“What? What happened?” Raphael poked his head around and saw her hand. “Hey, you okay? Did you cut yourself?”

He was immediately at her side, taking her hand in his and trying to wipe off the blood to find the wound.

“I'm not hurt. It...the blood's not mine.”

Raphael continued to clean her hand as if not believing her. When he failed to find any cut, his eyes traveled up to meet hers. “Good. The guys would give me so much shit if you got hurt on my watch.” His gaze trailed back down, his hands still holding hers. His thumb rubbed the middle of her palm. “And I...I don't ever want to see you hurt. Especially when I could have prevented it. I'd never let anything happen to you if I could help it.”

Name froze. It felt like her heart stopped in her chest. She had just been thinking about finding the courage to say what she had been wanting to say to him if they ever had a moment alone. And now Raphael had surprised the hell out of her by doing just that. The fact that there were things he even wanted to say floored her. Her brain struggled to catch up.

Say it! Now's the time! Tell him!

“I always feel safe with you. I know you'll never let anything happen to me,” she blurted. Her mind scrambled for traction. Wasn't there more? What did she always want to say to him? “And I just like spending time with you. I wish we spent more time together. Like...just you and me. Uh...if you wanted to.”

She was sure her face burned as he stared at her with a wide-eyed, but otherwise undecipherable expression. She wished he would say something. Anything. This was torture.

“I didn't know you felt like that,” he finally responded. His voice was low, soft.

Her face was on fire as she looked down at her thighs.

“I'd like to spend more time with you, too.”

Her head shot up, staring at him before a smile pulled at her mouth. “Yeah?”

He nearly laughed. “Yeah, of course. You think I wouldn't want to? I really—” Raphael cut himself off as he touched the stone himself and pulled back his hand covered in blood. “What the hell?”

He jumped to his feet, shining his light on the stone. It had been hard to tell, because the slab itself was so dark with age. Dark with old blood of having been used many times before.

“Where did all this blood come from?” Raphael's voice jumped a little higher than his normal tone.

“The blood,” said a new, dark male voice, “is for you.”

As if summoned, out of the darkness came a figure in a black robe. He had blended into the night, just another eerie monument among the headstones. As he neared, his face couldn't be seen, but the robe he wore was soaked in a dark, thick liquid. More blood. Whose blood, it was hard to tell.

“I have summoned you here, oh Beast of Darkness, Great and Terrible One.”

“Me?” Raphael squawked, pointing to himself.

“Rude,” Name whispered, offended on his behalf.

“Yes, you are the Shadow Beast,” the voice in the robe said. “It That Which Devours. The Ravening, Insatiable Hunger.”

“Uh...I already ate before I came here,” Raphael said. “Though I guess I could eat again. You buying?”

The robed figure stuttered in confusion and they could see a bit of his face as the hood slid back. Just some normal-ass pale dude out in the cemetery all alone.

“But...you're The Beast, right?” he asked in a smaller voice. “I did everything correct. I brought the blood, I said the words. You're what I summoned.”

“That blood; you kill someone for that?” the turtle asked dangerously.

“Uh, no. It's from...a butcher shop.” He physically wilted. “I didn't summon you?”

“Hey guy, I drove here,” Raphael shot back. “I'm not this beast, alright?”

“Super rude,” Name hissed from behind him.

The man's eyes fell on her. “Maybe I used the wrong blood. Maybe it needed to be human after all.”

He pulled a switchblade from his pocket. Not a particularly impressive one, but Raphael still stiffened at the sight of steel. He moved in front of Name, a solid wall between the two humans.

“Oh, I don't think so. You better get your dumb ass outta here before I toss you out.”

Now the man looked more offended than confused. His mouth turned down as he pointed his blade at the mutant turtle.

Raphael snorted. He was at least twice this guy's size and completely towered over him. “C'mon. Are you kidding? You wanna try me?”

“Raph, don't hurt him,” Name said, touching his arm. “He's just some lonely goth nerd having fun on Halloween. Kinda like us.”

He huffed again. “I don't care what he is or what he's doing. Nobody threatens you in front of me. Even if you could beat their ass without my help.”

She made a sound of endearment at him. The man, however, was growing more and more agitated with the situation. He grit his teeth and was about to yell at them when a low, dangerous rumble came from somewhere in the fog. The mist followed, growing, consuming. Now swirling around the top of the hill as it had been below.

All of them stopped; frozen. Raphael had been at the top of the food chain just a second ago, but that sound triggered something in his primordial lizard brain. He was now the prey.

“What...was that?” Name whispered.

Raphael made a hushing sound, backing her up against the altar as he swiveled his head from side to side, trying to triangulate the source of his newfound fear. The night had gone quiet again, but something lurked just beyond what their eyes could see. Something moved smooth and silent like a ship, barely breaking the cloud-like fog.

The other human glanced around wildly, looking nervous. Then his anger won out again. “Screw this! This whole thing was bullshit! When I get back to town, I'm gonna—” And he was gone.

Between one breath and another, he ceased to exist. Darkness came for him and winked him out of existence. All that remained of him now was the wet crunching of bones somewhere in the night.

PREDATOR Raphael's animal instincts screamed.

He glanced back at Name and his fear deepened. He never worried about if he could protect himself, no matter what he was up against. But her. He had never been this afraid.

The fog closed in tighter, as if it had a mind of its own. It scattered as something cut through it. Raphael's sais were out in a blink as something big and dark rushed in. It was wolf-like in shape; pointed angles and long legs.

The creature wasn't aiming for him, but for Name. He lunged to put his body between them and thrust out with the tip of his blade. The barrel of the monster's chest should have taken the hit, but the sai went through the body is if it were made of the blackest smoke. But the teeth; the teeth were solid, sharp, and cut through the flesh of his arm in a snap of jaws. Then it disappeared into the fog.

Raphael stared after it, insensate to his wounds for the breath of a moment. He had been called monster before, but it was the first time in his life where the word echoed in his own head as he tried to identify what he saw. Unidentifiable, ravening, unnatural.

Then the pain hit and he winced as blood dripped down his arm, slickening the grip of his weapon.

“Raph!” Name cried when she realized he was hurt.

He only glanced at her—a warning look—and she was silent. The danger was still among them. Watching, hungry.

He saw it in the mist, darker than the gray fog around it. The wolf-like form stood up on its hind legs and shifted its shape. So easily it shifted, as if had no real form and was all forms at the same time. It grew tall, wide in the shoulders with stocky, thick legs. His heart jumped in his throat when he realized the form was copying his own in size.

The head remained wolf-like. Raphael could have sworn it grinned.

“Raph,” Name whispered in fear.

“Stay behind me,” he said, not taking his eyes off the beast. “Whatever happens, don't let it get between us.”

He heard her gasp and the creature rushed him again. This time, he was ready for the attack. The steel of his weapon clashed against rows of teeth as he tried to stab for the mouth. That seemed the only solid part of the thing. Yet, it managed to manifest claws that raked viciously down his plastron before it was gone again. Raphael looked down at the marks it left. If he hadn't had a shell protecting himself, he would have been gutted all over the ground.

Name watched in fear as she heard the scraping of claws on shell. “Are you alright?” She wanted to get in front of him, touch him for herself. Feel for any wounds.

“I said say behind me!” He growled as the creature came again.

It darted in, back on all fours, zig-zagging this way and that. It came for him, then faked to the side, trying to get around him. He managed to stay the protective wall as the creature lunged for Name, but collided with a solid shell before darting off again. It came again from the other side of the altar, leaping over it and nearly landing on top of her. Raphael managed to get himself in front of her, stabbing at nothing but air as he felt claws catch the lip of his shell and his arm.

His mind rushed in a panic. They were open and exposed. He couldn't protect her here. He had to get her somewhere safe. But there was nowhere with shelter from the beast. Just open area in all directions.

“Listen,” he said lowly as he glanced around, waiting for the next blow. “If it gets me, I need you to run.”

She was terrified of the idea. More of leaving him than of the creature itself. “Raph, No!”

“I mean it, you get out of here the second you can. Find the guys, get back to the truck. Get yourself somewhere safe. Promise me.”

She worked her mouth, unable to make such an oath. She didn't want to leave him.

And the creature stalked out of the mist once more. Right before their eyes, it melted, then split in two and reformed again. Twin wolf-like forms. They attacked as one.

“Shit,” Raphael hissed.

His twin sais spun in the air as the duo came for him. He sliced through them, the blades meeting no resistance. This time, he hit one in the mouth and there came a satisfying, tearing sound. Raphael grinned as he saw the lower jaw of creature hang loose.

Then Name's scream tore any elation from the hit away from him. The second one had her in its jaws, teeth wrapped around her arm, before he came barreling down upon it. The creature exploded into black mist as Raphael grabbed her, rolled on his shell over the alter and dropped them both on the other side. He landed on top of her in a protective crouch. The whole of his body covered her smaller frame as he looked her over with wide, wild eyes.

“You okay?”

She hissed as she looked at her tattered jacket, felt the pain of the teeth marks as blood leaked out. “It got me.”

Raphael growled. A deep, animal rumble of rage in his chest. On the outside, he looked pissed. On the inside, he was falling apart. He was terrified. They got past him once, they could do it again. He had to stop this thing. He had to protect her. If he couldn't protect the people he loved, what good was he?

He kept her bodily pressed against the alter as he peered over it and all around. On the other side, one black wolf creature stepped out of the fog. Then another. Another. And one more. Now there were four. They would get past him. They would keep multiplying until there were more than he could ever hope to block. What was he going to do? He wished his brothers were here.

They would laugh if they knew he had already given up. Leonardo would say he was disappointed. Raphael couldn't bear that thought. If he was going down, he was going down swinging. He would defend Name with all his might, try to give her a fighting chance to stay alive.

“I'm going to rush 'em,” he told her. “I'm going to take all their attention and you're going to run.”

Her arms went around his neck, holding him so tight. Her whole body was shaking. So was his.

“Don't make me leave you,” she whispered.

Raphael closed his eyes. What he wouldn't have given to have those arms around him before this night. If only he had known sooner, he would have made time. He was such a fucking idiot.

“Hey, you just survive, alright? Don't worry about me. I'll come get you when it's all over.”

She was already shaking her head before he could finish. She knew better. She knew it was a lie. But there was no more time to argue. The four creatures stalked toward the alter. Only the slab of stone existed as any kind of barrier between them.

Raphael steeled himself for one last fight. He was shaking. He pressed his wounded hand to the stone to steady himself. The instant his blood touched the dark surface, it burned.

“What the hell?” Raphael demanded as his palm stuck to the heat. He couldn't move. Something had a hold of him and his whole hand felt like it was touching fire.

On the other side of the alter, the creature suddenly sucked itself back into one entity. As one, he and the creature became connected in mind and Raphael somehow understood it was the blood. The summoner's actual blood needed to be used to control the beast. He had offered his and now he heard its thoughts. He felt its hunger, its hate. It wanted Name. It wanted to spill her blood upon its alter. It wanted more sacrifices.

And he heard its question, though it was not so much in solid words as a feeling. The creature wanted to know what Raphael wished of it. What were its orders as a summoned agent of darkness.

Raphael snarled at it. “I want you to fucking stay solid so I can kill you!”

One foot upon the alter, he tore himself free of its hold and used its height to springboard himself onto the creature. He felt its solid form as they collided, though he couldn't tell if it was made of fur or flesh, or something else entirely. It screamed and snarled, as did he, as they rolled around in a violent tangle, knocking down headstones in their wake.

The monster's claws found mostly his protective shell, but a few scratches managed to catch his skin. All the while Raphael felt the absolute satisfactory sensation of plunging his sai into solid flesh. Holding the weapon so the prongs stuck out between his fingers, his stabbed his fist into the creature again and again. Dark blood spattered out, spraying him, spraying the final markers of people gone long before him.

The beast howled and screamed, not in pain, but in rage. Its body was failing. Its time on the mortal plane was coming to an end. The kicks became weaker as the body was torn. Raphael hadn't let up. Even as the creature tired, he continued stabbing until the final blow. He ran the point of his sai through the creature's head, pinning it to the ground like a grotesque lawn ornament.

There, the beast was finished. Its form disappeared like the dark mist it came from, the sound of a long, dry exhale as it vanished. Raphael remained alone, bleeding, panting. Shaking.

Name ran from her hiding place and practically tacked him.

“Raphael! Look at me! Are you okay?” She cupped his face with trembling hands. There was so much blood on him. “Please, God, tell me you're okay.”

It took a few breaths, but he managed to find his voice. “I'm okay. Are you okay?”

She nodded emphatically, unable to trust her words. Her hands kept smoothing over his face in a self-soothing motion. She had come so close to losing him before she had ever had the chance to say all the things swimming around in her heart.

Raphael tried to stand, but his knees had turned to jelly.

“Wait here,” she told him. “I'll go find the guys to come get you.”

“No.” He desperately grabbed her wrist. “Don't you go anywhere. You stay with me. We don't know if there's anything else out there.”

At the back of her mind, she was a bit annoyed that he could send her away from danger, but she wasn't allowed to leave him when the danger was over. They could discuss that later. Right now, she understood his need to keep an eye on her.

“Alright, Big Guy, we stick together.” She stood and steadied him as he shakily got to his feet. Together, they retraced their steps back down the steep hill.

“Guys?” she called out into the fog. “You out there? Where is everyone? “Mike! Donnie! Leonardo!”

“LEOOOOOOO!” Raphael bellowed into the fog in that same obnoxious tone and volume that he knew drove his brother nuts when he screamed it through the lair.

Up ahead, the main gates appeared and the truck was still there, waiting patiently for their return. As they made their way toward it, the missing brothers appeared from the fog, all from different directions.

Name was surprised to see that the other three didn't look like they had a great time either. Michelangelo limped in, a hand clutching his cut arm. Donatello was wide-eyed and as pale as a turtle could be. Leonardo looked like he had been dragged through a canal. Where did he find water in this place?

“Where the hell were you guys?” Raphael growled. “We were fightin' for our lives while you guys were out here jerkin' off.”

“What are you talking about?” Michelangelo said. “Name and I were just running for our lives from this girl without a...” He trailed off when he noticed she was plastered to Raphael's side, in a completely different state than Michelangelo remembered her to be in. He glanced to his side as if expecting someone to have been standing there.

“Hey, when did you get over there?” He touched her arm and she hissed in pain.

Michelangelo pulled back his hand, eyes widening at the blood. “When did you get hurt? You were fine. I...I protected you.” Raphael growled at his smaller brother, putting himself between them. “Don't touch her.” His voice softened as he looked to her. “Show me. Let me see how bad it is.”

Name hissed as she tried to remove her jacket. The claw marks were starting to burn. Leonardo dove in, attempting to take control and help her out. Raphael shoved him away, gnashing his teeth.

“Back the fuck off, Leo! I said don't touch her!”

Leonardo backed up, eyes wide. Raphael's outburst wasn't so much about him, but that Raphael was stuck in primal protective mode. Adrenaline was still racing through his veins, making him overreact. Any act of aggression, or just pro-activeness was going to set him off. Leonardo looked to Donatello who was staring at Name with a haunted expression.

“Leo, until a moment ago, I could have sworn she had been with me the entire time,” Donatello whispered. “How was she with Raph?”

Leonardo just shook his head. Nothing else mattered now but getting everyone safely out of here. “Worry about it later. Can you get them in the truck? I'll drive.”

Donatello nodded. He took a step forward, but no more than that. “Raph,” he said softly. “Let's get her out of here and somewhere safe, okay? Can you take her to the truck?”

Raphael merely nodded. He wrapped Name up in his arms. She squeaked as she was lifted off her feet bridal style.

“I can still walk. I'm not that hurt,” she insisted.

“I don't care,” came the dark reply that left little room for argument.

Effortlessly, despite his damaged arm, he carried her through the gates. Name felt her face grow warm at having his strength all around her. She dared to rest her cheek against him and felt the thundering of his heart even through the plastron.

Donatello opened the side door and Raphael stomped inside, plopping himself in a seat with Name still held protectively in his lap. Donatello climbed in after while the other two brothers sat themselves in the front. Leonardo started up the garbage truck and guided them around. His fists clenched the steering wheel so hard they shook.

“Bro,” Michelangelo said, touching his arm.

Leonardo forced himself to relax and focus on his driving.

In the back, Raphael was a veritable thunder cloud; stormy and growly as Donatello, steadying himself on his knees while the truck moved, attempted to apply first aid.

“Is it just the arm?” he asked Name.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Raphael growled as Donatello helped her out of the sleeve of her jacket.

“Stop,” Name told the turtle in red, flicking him lightly between the eyes.

Raphael blinked and the growling stopped, though he still didn't look happy.

“That's one way to do it,” Donatello said as he fumbled through the first aid kit. They hit a dip in the road and he nearly toppled over.

“Are you okay, Donnie?” Name then asked. Despite her own near-death experience, she couldn't help noticing how he looked so haunted. They all did.

He smiled at her. “I'll be fine.” He pulled out a sterile gauze pad and pressed it to her arm. As soon as he touched her, the possessive growling began again. But Donatello ignored it as he then grabbed Raphael's hand and pressed it to the pad.

“Keep it there until we get home.”

Then Donatello sat himself in the other middle seat, because he knew better. Raphael wouldn't accept any first aid for himself until Name was taken care of, and it was impossible to offer that on this rocky, hole-infested road. They both could be tended to when they got back to the lair. Plus his brother needed time to calm down. He would be impossible to work with until his fear and protective response had run its course.

The truck was absolute silent on the way back to the city. No music. Everyone swallowed in their own thoughts, including Name. The adrenaline was starting to wear off. In its place was impossible fatigue that warred with the last bits of survival instinct forcing her to keep her eyes open. But she was still in Raphael's arms and he was so warm and safe. And now his heart thumped a deep, steady rhythm that lulled her.

“Hey,” his deep voice rasped in her ear, causing her to lift her head.

“You feeling better?” she asked.

He sighed. “I don't know if I'll feel better for a while. That was fucking nuts back there. And I didn't protect you. You got hurt on my watch. I never wanted that to happen. I'm sorry.”

She touched his arm, content to remain against him. “I'm okay. I want you to be okay, too. Let the guys look at your wounds, alright? You can let them help you.”

He was already nodding before she finished. He knew she was right. “Yeah, I will. I just wanted to tell you...” He paused, glancing out the window at the full moon. The fog was gone now, the city lights glittering in the distance. “When we get back, I don't want to waste anymore time not saying things.”

“Me, too,” she agreed and he snapped his head around to stare at her with wide eyes. His relief mirrored her own. “When we get home, let's have a long talk and say all the things we've been meaning to say.”

@turtle-babe83 @android-cap-007 @pheradream15 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @thelaundrybitch @analogswordsman

#tmnttrickorkink #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2016 #TMNTtober #TMNTtober2022

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whumplovers-collaborate · 1 year

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WLC 2023 Spring Fic Exchange Works

Hi! We in the Whumplovers Collaborate server have been having fun writing gifts for each other in this recent exchange

We present to you the Whumperful products of our hard work, with fics in fandoms across the board, and some OC works too (:

Careful What You Cast For by FoofsterRoonie @foofsterroonie

Fandom: Supernatural

Sam finds himself on the search for a cure after casting a spell with unintended side effects, Dean ends up taking care of his little brother.

Fate/Design, two faces of one coin by ProdBionic @prodbionic

Fandom: Supernatural

Dean had been acting off lately and Sam was out of tricks. The recent bout of nightmares that had overrun Dean's sleep –Sam's sleep as well because that was bound to happen when his brother would wake up shouting next to him– must've been triggered by the apocalypse creeping up on them and all it entailed. Memories of Hell, Sam presumed.

A regular hunt was Sam's fix to the situation. It was supposed to take Dean's mind off of it.

Of course, when had anything ever been that straightforward, or easy? In this case, nothing was what it looked like..

Baseline by shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod

Fandom: Captain America, MCU

In which torture and a thirty-mile long trek back to the front lines landed Bucky in the field hospital. Lucky for him, Steve was the second-best mother hen out there, not that Bucky would tell him that, or admit to being one himself when the going got rough. He was a sergeant, after all. Looking after his men, which now included Steve, was part of the job description.

Fallout by contumeliouscorvid @contumeliouscorvid

Fandom: Daredevil

Lying had become something he was at ease with.

Tag to Rabbit in a Snowstorm.

Hollow by shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod

Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars

Soot-stained and debris-covered chunks of white and blue plastoid stick out from the rubble. The wreck of the Tribunal is a mangled mess of a graveyard and Rex's brothers will forever be its only occupants.

Eventually, he feels Ahsoka put a gentle hand on his uninjured shoulder. “I can’t leave them like this,” Rex says quietly. They have time now, he thinks, to do it right for both the first and last time. They’ll make the time, if they have to, on this unknown moon, to ensure that their men can rest as they deserve.

Soon by MnM_ov_doom @mnmovdoom

Fandom: Star Wars, The Bad Batch

Seeing Rex like this was disturbing. One moment he had been pacing around in the cockpit of the ship, looking exhausted and unwell, summarising the intel he had studied for the past couple of days and maybe this time he could find a way to hack into an Imperial database and look up Cody’s CC number and-

The next moment Rex had stopped, staggered, and collapsed.

For You by User_needs_a_Username

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

Edward goes in to give his report while Alphonse goes to pick Winry up from the train station. But it turns out something is happening in the Colonel’s office, and it involves a stranger and a gun.

an unlikely savior by Rookblonkorules

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

When Roy is injured and bleeding out, the person he least expects is the one who comes to his aid.

one lone crow doesn’t make a murder by crowsinflight, crowsinflight (goldenzingy46) @goldenzingy46butwriteblr

Fandom: Six of Crows series

Kaz has been building up his persona as a monster, a demon, for a while. The past has a way of catching up.

Or: the fic where a religious zealot believes that Kaz is actually a demon and then tries to do something about that. Gratuitous whump.

If only by Kaufmann @kaufmann-6

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

"They're going to kill me, Ben" Klaus whispered, his voice full of fear, and Ben shook his head.

"It'll be okay, Klaus" Ben felt like he was lying to Klaus and himself, but the least he owed his brother were a few words of comfort.

An AU in which Patch didn't notice Five's van across the street and Cha-Cha got tired of waiting. Angst follows.

Finding Home by Siegrrun

Fandom: Stranger Things

Steve didn't know what to do. He didn't know where to go. He should've seen this coming, prepared for the possibility. But, really, how can you prepare for your parents kicking you out?

Or, Steve's parents kick him out. He finds a new home.

Don’t Worry, Little Wing by SuperSilverSpy

Fandom: Batman

Suiting up, he put his comm in and swung out the window. “Oracle? What happened to Robin?”

“He snuck out of the manor three hours ago. We can’t find him.”

OR Dick heads to Gotham to look for a missing Jason Featuring hurt!Jason

Lights will guide you home by vel (pineapple_vel) @thaliaisalesbian

Fandom: Percy Jackson

You know how sometimes you think a bad day can't get any worse, and then it somehow does? Percy and Annabeth were trying to make a bad day better, only for it all to go wrong.

malice by Corrosion

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/Tears Of The Kingdom

Link may not have his memories from a hundred years ago, but he's certain that whatever caused his current predicament hadn't existed back then. He wouldn't have survived.

How Pretty He Screams by ProfessorWorm

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Everyone thinks Sherlock is dead. Sherlock wishes he was. John decides to live out his fantasies on his former friend. Moriarty has a confusing time.

When the Shift Ends by 99percentsure

Fandom: Emergency! (TV 1972), Adam-12

How was Roy DeSoto to know his heading for a day off was gonna take such a nasty turn The Poles of Persephone-11 by The_Walking_Pie @the-walking-pie

Fandom: Star Trek: TOS

Following a shuttle crash at the pole of an unknown planet, McCoy and Chekov are the only survivors. Together, they must survive an arctic wilderness in order to reunite with the Enterprise.

A Stitch in Time by The_Walking_Pie @the-walking-pie

Fandom: American Assassin

Mitch takes a bullet for Hurley. The man has a few words to say about that.

For the True King by The_Walking_Pie @the-walking-pie

Fandom: Original Work

The duty of any prisoner is to escape. Unfortunately, Gideon just happens to get caught in the process.

Detangling by the_diving_fox

Fandom: Original Work

Spinner is a space explorer who's been held hostage and mind-controlled for six months. Now, aboard a different ship and with his best friend, he must begin to deal with what happened to him.

Whiplash by Biarritz

Fandom: Original Work

Even the best have to let their guard down sooner or later. Being a Courier is dangerous; shopping isn't supposed to be.

The Traitor of Murland by NicolePascaline

Fandom: Original Work

Florence thought that King Percy was dead, but he's here to take back the throne and make the traitor pay for his treachery

The Chosen Hero by KnightlyCross

Fandom: Original Work

The church couldn't stop the scientist since they had no evidence of malign actions. But after a young girl came bearing a prophecy, a hero to take down this scientist was chosen. At least that’s what The Church says.

This Cage Built For Two by Anonymous

Fandom: Original Work

Ren’s luck has never been that great to begin with, but transmigrating into an otome game where he unexpectedly keeps dying? That’s got to be a new low.

Stay tuned for the next exchange! (Signups will open soon)

Only server members can participate so now’s the time to join us (:

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coldandfoggy · 11 months

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Midnight Eucharist

——†——

The warm wood glistened with dim autumn light filtered through the small windows of the cabin. The dark lacquer gave the wood paneling a lively air as the honey-toned splashes of light stretched across the floor like golden shadows. Father Theodore, standing in his quarters, unclasped the silver crucifix necklace from around his neck. He placed the jewelry gently in his cupboard, somewhere he’ll recognize. The sacred cross gave one last glint before the drawer was sensibly shut.

He laid his rosary delicately before the painting of The Last Supper that hung above his study. His eyes glanced to Judas, bending down to adorn Jesus with that damning kiss. He looked away. No point.

It was bound to be dusk soon. He should be there. Making his way to the door, he paused as his hand reached the doorknob, reminded by the glint of silver. He hesitated, then carefully slid his wedding ring off his finger, placing it on a shelf by the door. He looked back for a moment, just a moment, before he shut the door behind him.

Dusk was approaching quickly, yet some few tendrils of light peeked out from the horizon, not yet drowned by the night sky. He made his way to the church, like he had one million times before.

Wet grass and gravel crackled beneath his feet. His black leather boots went well with his cassock, but were not well suited for any manner of hiking. They were past the church now, wading through the courtyard to the patch behind the cemetery. He weaved through epitaphs etched in stone, bathed in the golden-red light of the ever-dwindling sun.

Beyond the town, beyond the Church’s consecrated grounds, lay a dark stretch of land. An informal continuation of the cemetery, only bereft of its holy blessing. Bodies lay there all the same; some before the church’s time, but simply not graced by consecrated earth; others buried when the church denied the dead a holy funeral on godly grounds, be they undesirable to them in some way. A cruel damning, indeed.

At the far end of the graveyard, broken up by brush and stones and unkempt paths forgotten for years, the great shining bones of what once was a grand manor lay, stripped bare and sun-bleached and picked clean by the toll of neglect among nature. But however decrepit and rotted it may be, it was not dead, for something in it was very much alive.

Before him, now, that great skeleton lay. The fossilized remains of a home once raucous with laughter and life. He finds the spot in the front yard with the sapling cypress tree. It’s grown since he last saw it, twisting itself in contortions to look for light that wasn’t there. It had grown thinner, but it was alive. He remembered planting it, still. After all this time.

He sat himself alongside the twisted cypress. The night was full and alive, the new moon only a dark spot in the endless black sky. The mist had rolled in, and the dark was growing colder. His lamplight flickered, threatening to leave him in the pitch black. He wouldn’t mind. He kept waiting.

“Teddy.”

A voice, soft and sweet, but desperate in recognition. Theodore whipped around to what he thought was the source of the noise, the name only so sweet on that tongue, the name only music in that voice.

“Sergei?” Theodore asked with trembling voice. In the distance, if his eyes do not deceive him, a figure stood tall and dark against the fog. A figure in a shape he knew so well.

The mist was thick now, the grass becoming heavy with dewdrops, bowing their heads in the frigid night air. The anticipation, the longing. It had been too long – it always was too long.

The figure, now taking form more tangible, approached Theodore. Despite the cold air, a warmth came over the both of them.

“Sergei,” Theodore said as he took Sergei in his arms, pressing him to his chest, cold skin against skin. “I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.” Sergei spoke through bitter tears. “How did you…?”

Theodore pulled back, enough to face him. “A new moon.” Theodore said. They looked overhead to see the vast, empty sky. “It moves the fabric of this realm as if it were a tide.”

“You knew it would be a new moon tonight?” Sergei asked. Theo nodded.

“Of course. The veil is thin, as thin as it will get in the next few decades, and the mists grow thicker this time of year. I thought, it may be easier for you to step through on a colder, foggy night, when the veil is thinnest.”

“Someone’s been a studious fellow!” Sergei joked, tussling Theodore’s hair, sending him to fits of childish giggles. “Leave it to you to memorize lunar charts for a date. Ever the considerate one. How long have you been planning this?”

“I…” Theo hesitated, almost a little embarrassed. “I started planning for our next meeting the second I arrived home from our last. That was… three months ago.”

Sergei looked down at the grass dappled with crystal dewdrops. “It’s been that long already…?”

Theodore deflated a bit. “They seem to only be getting longer. I don’t know what it is, but…”

“Funny, time feels so different here.” Sergei looked up at the stars with a weak smile. “I can’t tell if the last time I saw you was yesterday or last year. It’s all foggy nights and in-betweens. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here for.”

“Two years, now.”

Sergei looked at Theodore with a surprised expression. “Two years?”

Theodore paused, momentarily too ashamed to look him in the eye. “…As of today. It’s… been two years since…” He swallowed, not able to finish the rest of his sentence.

A moment of silence filled the frigid air.

“It’s okay.” Sergei squeezed Theodore’s hand slightly. “You know that, right? You did all you could for me. And that’s all I could ever ask.”

“I could’ve… could’ve talked to them more… s-said the right things, they’d have given you a proper Christian burial…”

“Then I wouldn’t have you.” Sergei cut through Theodore’s inklings of a spiral. “And that’s all I really want. They didn’t want me in their holy earth, and frankly, I didn’t want to be there either. If their ideal world is one without us, then let us find our own world, free of them.”

Theodore looked away. They both knew where this conversation was inevitably headed. The unspoken message in the words.

Finally, Sergei said it. “I just don’t know why you’re still with them – “

“I can’t, Sergei. You know, you know I can’t.” Theodore squeezed his eyes closed.

“But why? They’re hurting you. They always have been, from the moment your father put you up on that pulpit and made you read words you didn’t understand from that lectern – “

“It’s my life, Sergei!” Theodore cried. “Without the Church, without God, what would I be? Who would I have?”

“You would have me.”

The words stunned Theodore into silence. Slowly, his shoulders fell.

“We could go anywhere, Teddy. Anywhere away from here. Together. I could bring you with me. Don’t you want that?”

… I do, Theodore thought. I do so, so badly.

“I don’t need a Christian burial. I don’t need to be laid to rest as just another one of God’s creatures, whittling myself down until I fit into the parameters of His conditional love. I never needed that.” Sergei looked Theodore straight in the eyes. “I don’t exist to placate those who want something from me. And I don’t think you do, either.”

“I do not whittle myself.” Theodore flicked a bitter glance at Sergei. “I cannot simply abandon my duties for a personal affair. I serve a purpose higher than myself--”

“All you do is whittle! All you do is serve!” Sergei burst. “I saw you grow thinner every day! You’d whittled yourself down until you could snap like a twig, and yet you worship the knife that carves you still! Hell, sometimes it feels as if your church can do no wrong in your eyes, even when they’re denying a holy burial to a man because he doesn’t love the same – “

Silence came over the woods once more. Fireflies blinked like yellow embers in the blue dust of moonlight, and crickets sang distantly their discordant tune.

“… Teddy…” Sergei said, his voice soft and warm. Delicate. Apologetic.

Theodore broke away from him, wandering a few steps forward. He needed to collect himself.

“Teddy, I didn’t mean – I… I’m sorry.”

Theodore put his hand on the twisted cypress to steady himself. He slowly sat down beside it, tracing his fingers along the warped bark.

“I remember planting this.” He said. “The thought of forgetting where you were made me sick. I couldn’t bear to… to lose you again.” Theodore took a bough in his fingers, pouring over the needle-like leaves. “I planted it over your heart. Two years ago.” Theodore sighed, lost in reverie. “I came every day to this spot after mass. In the night, while the town slept, I would lie here, half hoping the cold would take me – take me to you – but knowing my immortal soul would be damned to wander restless on unblessed ground. Laying there, in the dirt, knowing you were below me, an eternity wandering with you seemed more merciful than another day in my empty home.”

Sergei knelt beside Theodore. Theodore continued, not acknowledging or simply not noticing the gesture.

“But then… then, on that night the moon was black as pitch and the veil was so thin you could feel it when you breathed, you rose from that grave, like the son of God himself. And I was terrified, but you were beautiful. So pale and beautiful, like the moon, but so cold and so still and…”

Theodore trailed off. Sergei put a hand on his shoulder.

“Why are you telling me this, love?”

Theodore looked down. “I’m afraid, Sergei. I can’t be a new man, like you. I have… so many people in town need me to – “

“Theodore,” Sergei said in his downy soft, ever-comforting voice. “Look at me. Every single person in that church, in that town, who told you they would keep you safe as long as you behaved were already hurting you. Strip away their words – all the obligations, the expectations, the rituals, the routines, the normalcy. With all of those gone from your mind, what do you want?”

Theodore paused. Truly banishing such things from his mind felt like banishing his skin from his body: an agonizing, impossible task. What was he but obligation? If no one was around towant, toneed him, to ask of him a favor, or forgiveness, or penance, would he exist at all? Or was he only what others make of him, an apparition that would fall into shadow and dust once he becomes obsolete?

“I want to go with you.” Theodore said, his voice little more than a whisper. “More than anything. I want to be with you and only you, I want to be together without fear, I want to…” He was choking back tears now, determined not to cry in front of Sergei tonight. Sergei squeezed Theodore’s hands.

“And I do, as well! Is that not enough?” Sergei seemed to light up at his words, a light in his eye not unlike the glow of the fireflies around them. “Is it not enough that we love each other and wish to be away? What more could love be, other than the letting go of old hurt and embracing of new light? You have let yourself be bled by these leeches, and now you are sullen and pale. We can heal, together.”

“But…” Theodore hesitated. “Just… disappear? What would they make of it? What about poor Mina, my wife?”

Sergei looked Theodore in the eyes earnestly. “If she loves you truly, she will want what is best for you. And this place…” He gestured to the direction of the church. “This place is not good for anyone.”

Theodore looked down at their intertwined hands, feeling the difference in temperature. He ran his thumb along the ridges of Sergei’s knuckles. Slowly, he nodded, his eyes squeezed shut as a tear fell to the ground. “I want to come with you. Take me with you.”

With that, Sergei pulled Theodore in for a kiss, which warmed them both more than any sun ever could. Sergei looked him in the eye, dusting his cheeks with butterfly kisses. “Let us go, then. Beyond the veil.”

#flash fiction #drama #short story #creative writing #religious trauma #religious imagery

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montcumbry-gaytor · 2 years

Text

A Bullet with butterfly wings p4

A/N : I am back and trans issues presented themselves today because while writing this I am in immense pain, but I write anyways.

A/N : Pronouns are He / Him

A/N : FEM ALIGNED DNI

Warnings : F-Slur use ( I'm gay don't cancel me ) Death, Detailed impaling.

Chapter Index

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ───

"I'm gonna show you things you've never seen before."

Eric said, grinning at you as he shoved his hands in his pockets, his Crow cawing upwards almost as to celebrate, eyeing your door, you regretted locking it so soon, but too late to turn back know.

"If I die I'm blaming my death on you."

You said, eyeing up at him, watching him look at you with that same smile he always did.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

With that, he guided you around the quickly darkening streets, showing a array of things you haven't seen, proving his promise, but it's probably because you're rarely out of your house.

He pointed out a little corner shop, it looked a little freshly built for the rest of the place, which was soon explained as he set the place ablaze, which he continued to elaborate that he had a good reason.

"To be fair, all credit to you, me personally would not commit a crime over my spouses ring, but you're dead, and I don't think a trail can be held against a dead guy."

You chatted with him, occasionally glancing up to see him looking at you with endearing eyes, causing you to look back away in a panic.

You came to an old church, it seemed basically unused and weeds climbed up it's walls, perking up as Eric began to speak.

"Basically the story for this little place, the guy leading devils night and a lot of other crimes had dragged me here after holding Sarah captive—"

You spaced out a little after that, wondering if you've heard the name Sarah before, he hadn't said anything to you, you were a little confused.

"Basically, he got pierced on that little piece there."

Eric said, pointing at a little statue, which infact you could see a darker patch on the stone, you figured that was a stain of blood, interesting, you should see if that could be something you could clean in the future.

"Cool story but can we backtrack a little?"

Eric instantly locked eyes on you, responding to your voice instantly.

'cute..'

Brushing the thought off, you continued.

"Who's Sarah? I don't think you've mentioned them."

"Sarah's a kid Shelly looked after and we treated her like she was our kid, she's really sweet."

Eric said, smiling proudly.

"Her mom is taking better care of her now though."

You made a 'ah' sound and nodded your head, noting the information, it seemed like everything Eric had told you took a space in your mind, his own personal space in your database.

"She sounds like a nice kid, but if I'm being honest, any kid that grew up around you probably turned out alright."

He nodded his head, and kept walking, taking you past the church to a little graveyard, one heavily disturbed, the lid of the coffin kicked up stuck in the ground.

The other, however, was undisturbed, headstone clean, flowers resting on the bed of the grave, the engraving in the stone reading out "Shelly Webster"

You 'Ah'd at the sight, if you had known this is where you were going you would've brought flowers, you eyed up at Eric, who stared longingly at the headstone.

Your heart sank a little, but nonetheless you turned back to Shelly's grave, bowing your head in a sign of respect, you did this when you were visiting your grandparents grave you felt it was only natural.

"I didn't want to come here long, but I feel like you'd like to see it." Eric said, turning his frame to you but still eyeing Shellys headstone.

"I appreciate you showing me." You said, once again glancing over to him, only to snap your eyes to a pale butterfly landing on Shelly's headstone.

"Pretty." You hummed to yourself, slowly approaching it to get a closer look, the pattern on it's wings fascinating you.

Unbeknownst to you, Eric watched you awe at the butterfly, as if watching a child eye a toy from a window.

Lightly pressing your finger to the headstone and guiding the butterfly gently to your hand, you found it was easy to have butterflies crawl on you, you used to joke about being a butterfly king when you were younger.

Slowly gliding your hand up you turned to Eric, looking at him with a little bit of pride.

"Pretty neat, huh?"

Holding still as you looked at him, making sure not to frighten the butterfly.

"You've got some talent for that, I don't see many people holding those so easily."

He replied, you curtly nodded before guiding your hand up, the butterfly flying off almost as if it took the hint, you watched it fly off before turning back to Eric.

"If you couldn't tell, butterflies are my thing, they're one of the first things I picked a book to read about in the library."

You explained, coming back up next to him.

"Shall we continue with the tour?"

You asked, Eric perking up almost as if lost in thought, but smiling nonetheless and motioned his hand.

As the skies darkened and the illumination of the lights shone down on the street, and you two, he showed you multiple things he enjoyed when he wasn't dead, showing you places where his band preformed.

You listened, finding his voice calming as you walked, occasionally making comments or asking questions.

You felt at peace, for the most part, as you walked through eerie alleyways you felt more on edge, knowing Eric being undead and Off-putting to normal people, you'd hope that'd mean you wouldn't get jumped.

"I don't actually think I've been this far out, I don't do a lot of traveling."

You said, sneaking your hands into your pockets as the nights chill met your fingertips, you didn't know how late it was, but you felt more awake, not only warey of your unknown surroundings, but of how refreshing Eric's voice sounded as he spoke, and the blaring neon lights from bars and convenience stores piercing your eyes.

"I'm glad I could take you out this far then, it's a lot nicer away from the center of the City." Eric sighed, breathing in the clearer air.

"it is nice, but—" you started, finding yourself yawning before you could finish. "I don't think I'm built for walking everywhere."

"You seriously need to get some fitness in your life, you're gonna end up old and crabby otherwise." Eric joked, patting your lower back which made you arch your back on instinct.

"I do just fine sitting around all day with a diet of sandwiches and hotdogs." You said, shaking your finger at him, giggling at your own statement.

"What I need to get is a fucking watch, I seriously regret not having one."

You sighed, rubbing exhaustion from your eyes.

"I take that as a sign that you need your beauty rest?"

Eric hummed, taking you back the way you came, finding as it became later, he found himself eyeing everywhere, warey of his surroundings.

Coming back through alleys made anxiety bubble in your chest, seeing barrel fires with shady people huddled around it, eyeing you and Eric.

"I've got you, just keep walking and don't make eye contact."

Eric said in a low voice, throwing a arm lightly around you, keeping away from touching you but making sure you didn't fall behind.

You only nodded, clenching your jaw as air puffed out your nose, making pale clouds, you couldnt deny you were a little scared, mentally cursing yourself for not carrying a gun.

You felt Eric halt, stopping with him and eyeing up when you found a hand on his shoulder, a grin twitching at his lips.

"-Ey you hear me? What do you think you're doing coming around here?"

You heard, you couldn't find yourself turning around, only watching as Eric took off his coat and handing it to you, mouthing for you not to watch.

'why would he say that?? Now I definitely want to watch-'

"What are you gonna do you little fag? You can't do shit to m—"

Crunch.

You heard it, cringing a little at the sound, feeling Eric's hand back on your back, pushing you to continue walking forward faster than you were before.

"Don't worry, he's not dead, I just.. gave him a little something."

Eric said, clenching his hand, flexing it as it healed and felt as good as new.

You chuckled a little, laughing off the anxiety, you still felt a little antsy but you did not expect Eric to punch a random guy.

Eventually arriving back at your place, you unlocked the back door and slipped in, letting Eric in before you locked it back and began giggling.

"I did not- expect you to fucking punch a guy" you laughed out, kneeling over yourself.

"Ever see that before?" Eric said before laughing himself, grinning as you came out of your laughing fit.

"Best part of that entire tour."

You sighed out, sliding down the door and eyed Eric as he came to slide down the door and sit next to you.

You both sat in silence for a bit, feeling way warmer in the comfort of the library and each others warmth.

You looked over at him, taking a breath before speaking.

"Thank you for showing me that, I appreciate it, and making sure I didn't get jumped."

You sighed, your pale eyes meeting his as he eyed over to you, eyeing his black lips as he chuckled.

"Tour guide has to make sure everyone makes it out alive right?"

You hummed at that, meeting his eyes again, realizing how close you were you felt your face light up.

Feeling his breath brush against your lips, you pulled away and tried to shoot up from where you were sitting, pulling a excuse out as you began to push up off the floor.

"I do not need to pass out in here, it'll be terrible for my back-"

Suddenly you felt yourself get dragged back down, Eric's lips crashing on yours, it took you a moment to register that it happened and another to return it, leaning against the door as Eric found himself leaning over you.

Tangling your hands through his hair, you gasped in a breath as he pulled away, your lips tinted black as the face paint smudged onto you.

"Uhh.. hey."

You muttered out, still in shock from what happened, your face flushing more if possible as Eric smiled, chuckling out a light laugh.

"You're too cute."

He hummed, leaning back to kiss you.

'im not gonna get enough sleep tonight.'

A/N : woop, gay shit, they kissed, enjoy 🧍

#eric draven #eric draven x male reader #eric draven x oc #the crow #the crow movie

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whitepolaris · 3 months

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Strip-Mall Graveyard

There's always plenty of parking at Sand Springs' Indian Cemetery. Plus, you can pick up some batteries, rent a TV, and renew your insurance policy while you're there. It's all conveniently located at Atwoods Plaza, your one-step shopping and Native American burial center.

Though only half of the graves are marked, there are about forty known burials here, comprising a quarter-acre of the only patch of grass in sight. The rest is unadulterated progress. In every direction lay asphalt and commerce, a free-market paradise held back by a short, white fence.

How did a single swatch of sacred ground become locked in the middle of a parking lot? Well, at one time the land was home to the Creek Indians, who buried their people here between 1883 and 1912. Philanthropist Charles Page purchased the land in 1906, where he then established the town of Sand Springs as a refuge for orphans and widows. From there, Sand Springs rapidly developed as a center of commerce, becoming the industrial capital of the Southwest. So, sometime in the 1960s, what had previously been grassland and pecan groves was bulldozed and paved to make way for a strip mall, with the proviso that the cemetery be preserved. About one hundred square feet was cordoned off and spared from the cover of blacktop.

When you park, though, just keep in mind that the cemetery wasn't thoroughly surveyed before it was blocked off, so although you're outside the fence, you're still more than likely parking right on top of somebody's great-great-grandpa.

Sand Springs' Sacred Shopping Ground

There was nothing really spooky about this place, other than the fact that, well, how weird is it to have a cemetery in the parking lot?

I spoke with a few people in the area who were shopping, but surprisingly enough, most of them didn't know a lot about the cemetery. I was told by one couple that it was the family who actually started the town of Sand Springs (most of the headstones I looked at bore Indian names). Another man told me that the cemetery had been there longer than the state of Oklahoma. Imagine how foolish I felt when I walked around front and saw the sign, which clearly stated the cemetery was established in 1883, a full twenty-four years before statehood.

The cemetery is located just off of Charles Page Boulevard and I-244. -Colby Weaver

#type read #weird oklahoma

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sparrowwright · 11 months

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. .Midnight Eucharist. .

. .——†——. .