#drabble;;

[millionsnife]

He bleeds red.

Objectively Knives has always known; he's bled before. It's only now that the knowledge scratches at his mind, burrowing between synapses to mock him.

He bleeds human red. (Vash had bled human red, puddling on the floor beneath his body seeping the life out of him even as he pointed the gun at Knives and told him no–)

His eyes trace its path from arm to needle to tubing and into vials that are swapped and packed carefully away. He doesn't bother following its path from there, into the back rooms of the doctor's laboratory. Knives doesn't know where it goes from there, and honestly doesn't care–doesn't want to know. Barely tolerates this small invasion as it is, and further knowledge would do nothing to soothe his temper.

"Idiot," Zazie hisses against his ear softly, the soft susurration of worm scales scraping over each other as they twisted around themselves in agitation a sufficient distraction. "You come to us for protection only to place yourself in the jaws of a scavenger anyway. Fool child."

Knives does not flinch at the accusation. It's an accurate summation regardless, and he dips his chin briefly in acknowledgement of the truth.

"He requires bone this time," Knives says finally, staring up at the blank ceiling; there's a question buried in the words even though he does not ask outright. Zazie sighs quietly, the sound aged.

"Foolish child," they repeat. "He will never be satisfied with what you give, child. He is a scavenger. The doctor will eat and eat and eat until he has bloated himself upon your corpse and there is nothing left to feast upon. Do not trust scavengers, Knives."

But Zazie does not leave.

[twistmusings]

Navel-Gazing - Jade and Azul

CW: Friends-to-FWB/Lovers, Mentions of Alcohol, Assumes Twisted Wonderland's legal drinking age is 18 but that alcohol is prohibited on campus grounds, mentions of codependence (not in a romantic relationship), mentions of sibling bonds and family issues, feelings of abandonment, mentions of Floyd being in an off-screen relationship. Long as all hell, this is really more of a drabble than a headcanon list womp womp.

At the start of their “relationship”, neither Azul nor Jade were looking for a partner. In fact, the both of them were pretty solidly in the “I don’t want to be tied down when I have something else I have to focus on” camp because they were both preparing to graduate from Night Raven College at that point and are starting to figure out how to go and do their own things. They were both just confirmed for their internships and were planning how they wanted to move forward with their adult lives. They really didn’t have time for a full relationship.

What ended up driving them closer together was, surprisingly, Floyd starting to date someone. That might sound surprising, but the reality was that Jade wasn’t prepared for how different his life would be when his clingy sibling decided not to be around him nearly as much.

Jade would never admit it aloud, but he got lonely. Floyd and he had been together basically every day most of the day since they were fry. They shared a dorm room, even. Being that used to having someone around him at most times meant that when Floyd suddenly wasn’t there to spend time with (read: pester with his nonsense at all times of night), he found it harder to function in general. He often found himself going to say something to Floyd only to remember he’d gone out. He also found it harder to sleep when he was entirely alone-- as it turns out, his instincts had grown attuned to always having someone there he trusted to help keep him safe so now that there wasn’t, he’s on high alert.

In addition to that, Azul began to rely more on Jade for day-to-day tasks. Floyd was spending less of his free time at Mostro Lounge and Octavinelle, so of course Azul would turn to the other person he trusted to handle ‘delicate’ matters. This often led to jade taking on more of the errand-based tasks that Floyd would normally be sent on to work off his energy. 

Jade was… snippy. Or, truthfully, more snide than he usually was. Azul had noticed this, and this made the tension between them start to grow. Azul felt uneasy-- thinking this was a warning sign that Jade would be not long from abandoning him as well, and the thought of being entirely alone sets him on edge.

“I see.” Jade replies, though Azul notes the clipped sound of agitation in his voice. Really, Azul is positively sick of whatever had gotten into Jade, so he shoots Azul a glare. Jade acts like such a brat at times-- like Azul isn’t also struggling with Floyd not being there. For the sake of the Sea Witch, he was balancing his studies for finals, his business, preparing study guides, rearranging his workloads, trying to get in contact with high profile companies for the sake of his internship AND he wasn’t letting his attitude get the best of him!

"Is that a problem, Jade?"

"Hmm." However slight, Azul notices the way that Jade frowns as if he's got a bitter taste in his mouth. "I simply don't think it is the best use of my talents."

Azul sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Jade, you know I would never trust someone other than you with something so important, right?" Azul says, intending to continue that thought, but before he can continue Jade cuts in.

"That isn't true and we both know it. I’ve never been the person you’ve asked to do this before."

The implication hangs heavy in the air-- that Azul is replacing Floyd with Jade. Azul looks up at Jade, surprised, but Jade’s expression is entirely unreadable at the moment. Azul takes a moment to gather himself and brace for whatever argument Jade is trying to start though he really would like to do nothing more than to rise and meet Jade’s antagonism. That particular idea would be unwise. He’s not in his mer-form so he stands little chance against someone Jade’s size.

"What is this about, Jade?" He asks, measuredly, needing to hear Jade explain precisely what had gotten under his skin-- he's leaving no room for misunderstandings.

"This is something you would normally ask Floyd to do. I simply don't understand why it's necessary to ask me."

And that's all it takes for Azul to be at the end of his patience. Perhaps the situation was wearing more on Azul than he had thought.

“Jade, you can see as well as I can that Floyd isn’t here right now. I can’t ask him to do it.” Azul drops the pen that he had been holding unceremoniously onto the stack of papers in front of him, instead clasping his hands in front of him to try and squeeze the frustration out before he does something foolish with that energy. He levels Jade with a stern stare. “I wouldn’t be asking him to do this regardless. I trust your judgment and discretion in this situation more than I would Floyd’s. So what, precisely, is the problem? Do you want higher pay? A favor? What is it?”

Jade looks at Azul, eyes widening fractionally, then he seems to remember himself, taking a slow breath.

"I don't need more pay-- I certainly wouldn't say no, of course--" Azul rolls his eyes at Jade's aside. "--I simply fail to see why this warrants my attention. What you’ve asked me to do is, effectively, grunt work. You know I prefer not to get my hands dirty if I can help it, so whatever it is that has you so worried, I can’t understand why you need me to do it.”

Azul scrubs a hand down his face. 

“Fine.” Azul says through gritted teeth. “I suspect that some of the employees are skimming money from the lounge by not cashing things out properly. I trust you to keep a keen eye on your surroundings and report back to me. Not to ‘beat the tar’ out of them. I am trying to gather enough evidence to file a report to the Headmage.” Azul explains it carefully, almost as if he’s trying to break it down to a child. Jade might have felt condescended to were he not so shocked at the revelation that someone would be brave and foolhardy enough to try to cut into the profits of Azul of all people.

“The last thing I need is for Floyd to run in and get himself into trouble because of his temper.” Azul finishes. Jade nods thoughtfully, frowning, but seems unconvinced. Azul sighs heavily. "How about I reward you? Whatever you'd like so long as it doesn't cut into the profits of the lounge egregiously."

That seemed to perk Jade up.

"Anything?" Jade ventures, tentatively. He pauses to think for a moment, then asks; "Must I decide what I want now?"

"Whenever you'd like, so long as you give me the time to prepare the materials."

Jade watches Azul carefully, as if waiting for further stipulation before nodding.

"Very well. Give me three days, I will gather all the information you need."

Jade succeeds, of course. There’s no way he wouldn’t given the stakes. It’s rare that he has the upper hand on Azul fully and even rarer that Azul offers it willingly.

Azul, on the other hand, is cursing himself for that exact thing: he can’t believe he gave Jade full control like that. He might trust Jade with his life and his finances, but he doesn’t trust him with his dignity.

Azul steeples his fingers.

“So, Jade, have you decided what you would like?” Azul ventures, trying not to let his tension show through in his voice. He is, apparently, unsuccessful, as Jade smirks at him broadly.

“I have.” He replies, though he doesn’t expand on the thought, thoroughly enjoying Azul’s discomfort at what he doesn’t know. The silence extends longer, and Jade’s grin only seems to grow.

“Well, are you planning on sharing with the class?” Azul ventures.

“I would like…” Jade begins, though he pauses rather theatrically, drawing out the tension the way one might for a crowd at the circus rather than for the impatient cephalopod before him.

"...Yes?"

"For you..."

Jade attempts to pause again, but Azul preempts him.

"Get on with it Jade, I don't have all night for histrionics."

Jade sighs, feigning disappointment with a shrug.

"...I’d like for you to make me my favorite meal."

“...” Azul's guard drops for a moment, showing his unveiled surprise. However, within moments, it's back and he's eyeing Jade suspiciously. "That’s it? You're positive? You could have nearly anything you'd like and that's what you want?"

"Quite." 

Azul still seems to expect a trap.

"You just want me to make you Octopus Carpaccio? That's really it?" He asks, and Jade merely smiles broadly and nods. "...Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why? What's your angle?"

Jade's smile widens.

"I'd like you to take the night off and give me your company." Jade states, simply.

Jade gets the pleasure of getting to watch the cogs begin to turn in Azul’s head. Azul has always had a distaste for taking time off, no matter how ill or infirmed he may be. He always says that coming back to work will only make for twice the work to be done in half the time.

“It’s been quite some time since I’ve gotten a chance to fully monopolize your time for myself, and if I have a reason to get you into the kitchen I’d be a fool not to take it. You have exacting tastes, after all.” Jade explains, his brows lifting as he grins.

Despite him not being particularly keen on the arrangement, Azul can’t quite keep himself from preening at the compliment.

"You know me well." Azul replies, trying to fight the smile that threatens to curl the corners of his lips. "My mother would have nothing but the best, so of course I have a taste for good food."

“And that’s precisely why I would like to steal you for myself for an evening.”

"No... Fair enough. Far be it from me to tell you what to do with your gift. Consider it a deal."

Jade, for his part, is surprisingly chipper in the span between then and their dinner together. Dare I say he was even a bit excited. He doesn’t realize it, but part of that is because he is looking forward to not having to spend the night by himself in total silence.

Azul does set the time aside for Jade. In fact, he goes above and beyond what is asked. Azul never does things in half measures, and it’s good to repay kindness with kindness. That’s simply good business sense. Azul is a great cook, to put it frankly. He rarely utilizes the skill because he focuses more on the business aspects of the lounge, but he knows his way around the kitchen quite well. It is a rare treat, indeed, to get a handmade dinner by Azul.

On top of that, Azul reserves the private room of the lounge. (That one is mostly selfish-- he doesn’t want to be bothered if they are going to have dinner and a night off. Besides, if they were interrupted, Azul had no doubt Jade would leverage it into a do-over if the night isn’t perfect.) He even goes so far as to procure a bright, fruity red wine to pair with the main course. (He has to sneak it in; he highly doubts that the Headmage would be too keen on him having alcohol on campus regardless of the fact that they are of drinking age.)

Jade is… impressed. He had been sort of riding on the knowledge that Azul doesn’t know how to not take things to ten and he’s not disappointed.

Azul has some… realizations in rapid succession when Jade shows up. See, Azul has always been aware he wasn’t precisely what landfolk would call straight. He’s never really cared much to label it because that’s pretty uncommon under the sea. And he’s always known objectively that Jade was handsome. He’s tall, broad shouldered, has sharp features, and is charming. However, it wasn’t until right about then that he managed to piece together that the two things were even remotely connected. He very nearly drops the 24,000 Thaumark bottle of wine because he fumbles it when Jade walks in.

Azul files it away under something he’s going to deal with later (read: never).

What had made Azul fumble the bottle was seeing how Jade was dressed. Jade has a handful out outfits that Azul has seen-- the uniform for the school, the formal clothes he wears to work in the lounge, the climbing gear he wears when he’s preparing for a weekend excursion to go scale a mountain or whatever he does in his club-- but he can’t recall a time that he’s seen Jade dressed down. He looked as though he was ready for a date, really. It’s not even that different from what he usually wears, but regardless it makes Azul’s palms sweat. He’s got dress pants and one of his white button-ups on, but the cuffs of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows and the top couple of buttons of his shirt are undone just enough to show a bit of his collarbone.

Azul absolutely curses his attraction to people with their sleeves rolled up. He really tries to pin it entirely on that-- it’s not the first time he’s noticed it on someone but it is the first time he’s noticed it on Jade. There is no reason a silly shirt should be making him feel like this when he’s seen Jade without clothes entirely in their mer-forms hundreds of times. It takes him several seconds to get a grip on himself.

Their dinner has been nice. Jade is quite pleased to be able to eat Azul’s cooking, and Azul seems to have relaxed and unwound a little bit. They have both been nursing a single glass of wine all night, just enough to toast their upcoming internships.

“... I admit, I’m a bit surprised that you and Floyd decided to go to different places for your internships.” Azul says, humming at the thought as he sips at the wine. “You two normally come as a set.”

Jade glances toward Azul, wondering if he knows what a landmine of a topic he’d just brought up. He quickly diverts his gaze back to the remaining few ounces of wine as it swirls around the sides of the glass, attempting to distract himself. He’s uncharacteristically quiet for a moment.

They did typically come as a pair, didn’t they? Well, they had come as a pair-- after all, they were already beginning to grow more separate with Floyd spending more time making plans with his partner than he did in their own dorm. They weren’t going to be glued to each other for their entire lives-- they would have to learn their independence sooner or later, right? It simply made sense that they would go to separate places for a few months. Learning how to be by themselves would be healthy for both of them.

“...Jade?” Azul asks. His voice snaps Jade out of the thought that’s preoccupying him, and he looks over at Azul once more.

“Yes, well, it will be good for the both of us to learn to be more independent. It’s already starting to happen, you know? I get the feeling you’ll be seeing more of me on my own.” Jade replies, trying for an unaffected tone. However, Azul seems to see right through him, and for a brief moment, Jade feels uncomfortably seen. Jade wishes he wouldn’t look at him like that-- like he can see right through him.

“You seem lonely.” Azul begins, tentatively, as if he’s not quite sure how Jade will react to his words. “Floyd’s new relationship… has made you feel left behind, hasn’t it?”

Hearing it laid out plainly like that, Jade isn’t sure how he’s meant to respond to that. It feels… silly. Realistically he knows his brother is just excited to have a partner in his life who accepts him with open arms and who clicks with him. It’s not like he’s cut Jade off cold contact-- not anything of the sort. In fact, there would be little either of them could do to permanently sever the close sibling bond they’ve had for years, and Jade has no intention of trampling on whatever happiness Floyd has found or will find. That being said… It's certainly a change not having Floyd around to fill the silence or to be a sounding board for whatever thoughts wander into his mind.

Azul gives him a pitying look, and Jade decides that he hates that look infinitely more than he hated the look that made him feel like Azul knew him through and through.

“...I’m sorry, Jade. You deserve to be happy, too.” Azul adds, voice lowered, like he’s speaking to a scared animal. Jade wants to flinch, but instead he merely closes his eyes pensively.

“Don’t misunderstand, Azul, I’m not unhappy. I’m not particularly keen on the idea of a relationship right now, either. I don’t really have eyes for anyone at the moment who I think would reciprocate.” Jade replies quietly, voice measured but audibly uncomfortable at having to express the emotion out loud. “I always knew that Floyd and I wouldn’t be side by side forever, I simply wasn’t prepared for it to happen so soon. It’s… a difficult adjustment when you’ve been around someone since you were a fry.”

“That’s understandable, though I hope you know that he still cares about you. He is your brother, even if he is a bit… preoccupied with other things at the moment.” Azul attempts to comfort, though he seems just as out of his element with this as Jade is. It almost makes Jade want to ask him why he continued to press the matter if neither of them wanted to be having this conversation. His fingers scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I know it’s not the same but I am still here for you, as well.”

Jade can’t help but to laugh, shooting Azul a wry smirk.

“Somehow I doubt that latching onto you in the absence of my brother wouldn’t be much of a solution at all.”

Azul flushes slightly, trying to keep himself from frowning and only earning another laugh from Jade that he reaches to cover a second too late.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I know what you meant. I simply suppose that I will have to learn to be more independent. And if that fails, then I’ll desperately fall back on you.” Jade says with a grin. Azul gives him a surprised look for a moment, and then laughs along with him. Azul hadn’t expected him to bounce back from his dour mood quite so quickly.

“Well, no, I suppose that wouldn’t help much. I’ll admit you’ve never really struck me as the codependent type, though. You’re not entirely reliant on your brother, are you?” Azul tips back the last of his wine.

Jade’s grin grows wicked in the way it always does when he’s about to say something to make Azul suffer.

"I don't suppose you would like to find out, would you?"

Azul chokes on his drink, and Jade can't quite hide his thinly veiled delight at being able to elicit the scandalized look that comes to Azul’s face.

"And what precisely would that entail?" Azul coughs

Jade feels like he must not have heard that right. That was not at all the reaction that he had expected-- he’d expected vehement denial. His eyes widened fractionally in realization. Surely that can’t be right, right?

"Oh." Jade replies, intelligently, the singular syllable being the only sound to pass between the two of them for a moment. Jade swallows thickly, having to quickly recalibrate and rearrange the thoughts in his mind. He looks down at the last of the wine in his glass, considering, before downing it in a single, large gulp. He clears his throat, setting the glass aside and using that as an excuse to avoid Azul’s expectant gaze.

 He replies, the singular syllable the only sound that passes between the two for a moment. Jade swallows thickly, again looking down at the last of the wine in his glass, considering, before he downs it in in a single, large gulp.

“I don’t sleep particularly well when I’m in a room alone.” Jade says it, then seems surprised by his own admission. He’s nowhere near inebriated enough for it to warrant the sort of unfiltered emotion to be pouring out of his mouth like this. It’s an uncomfortable thing to divulge, and the mere mention of it makes him feel sort of pathetic. “We’ve shared a room for years now. I find it hard to fall asleep now that I’m alone. It just…feels like something is wrong. Like something is missing. I think, perhaps, it’s my instincts putting me on edge because I have no one looking out for me when I’m most vulnerable.”

Azul blinks at him blankly, and then he is the one who gives Jade a shark-like grin, as if this is fun for him.

“Awe, what do you miss most? Waking up to Floyd looming over you at three A.M.? Or maybe it’s how he picks fights with people in his sleep? Oh-oh, or is it holding the pillow over his mouth when he snores?” Azul’s tone is positively tickled, earning a roll of the eyes from Jade.

It is decidedly less fun to be on this side of the teasing. For some that might have meant that they would knock it off next time, but for Jade it merely meant that he would be sure to be positively insufferable the next time Azul embarrasses himself.

Azul, seeming to have gotten his fill, trails off. For a moment, Jade meets his gaze, and Azul takes that chance to examine him thoroughly. Jade resists the urge to squirm, feeling like a lab specimen being examined. Azul is one of the only people he would tolerate that from.

“Do you need someone to be there with you?” Azul asks lowly, as if there’s anyone around to overhear him, tone entirely sober. Jade is surprised once again, looking at Azul in silence.

How is he meant to take that offer? Jade truly can’t tell if his suspicion is on base, but it feels like Azul is hitting on him, and as reluctant as he would be to admit it, the thought makes a heat creep into his stomach. He swallows again, though this time there’s no wine to try and cover it up.

“That would depend on what was being offered…”

"You know a good businessman never makes the first offer."

Jade considered his options carefully. Azul is a friend. This is not something he should be doing, he knows it would be foolish, but… if this is happening, he doesn’t think he can deny himself the chance. If Azul backs down he’ll have his answer, and hopefully if he does it will serve as a reminder for Azul not to toy with his emotions.

“Believe me, Azul, I’m well aware that you’re a sharp businessman. You’re incredibly persistent when you put your mind to something. I’d never underestimate you like that.” Jade’s tone is unfamiliar to himself, assertive, low, and dark as he rather shamelessly flirts right back with Azul. He lays an arm across the back of the booth that they’re sitting in and he leans closer into Azul’s space. “But a good businessman knows how to make the first offer when they need to. So, why don’t you try making me an offer I won’t refuse?”

It has the intended effect, and Jade feels a small thrill that maybe he shouldn’t as he watches the redness rise into Azul’s cheeks. In spite of that, Azul smirks.

“That’s what I like to hear. You really do pick up on the ins and outs of making deals when I use my unique magic, don’t you?” Azul laughs. He shifts himself, leaning into Jade, rather than away. “Tell me this, then, if you got whatever you wanted from tonight, what would it be?”

Oh dear. Well, it seems his intuition is right-- Azul seems surprisingly keen on this. He’s suddenly thankful for Azul’s foresight to reserve them the private room, because it means he doesn’t have to worry about someone barging into their conversation-- if someone interrupted them right now, Jade just might snap.

“I want a lot of things.” Jade admits, his voice practically a purr. There’s something almost possessive to his tone of voice. “I’m a bit torn, really.”

“Isn’t that a shame. Why not tell me? I’ll humor you. Maybe I’ll be able to help you sort your thoughts.” This time, it’s Azul’s turn to swallow, his gaze that has been holding steadily this entire time darts toward Jade’s lips as the heat in his face only continues to grow. It’s brief, but Jade doesn’t miss it.

“You want to kiss me.” Jade says-- it’s not really a question, nor is it a statement. It’s a realization, and Jade sounds a little giddy with it. “So what are you waiting for?”

The prompting seems to be all it takes, as Azul surges forward, closing the gap between them. Jade feels a flood of something warm into his chest as Azul kisses him, and something entirely different settles into his stomach. Azul’s kiss is eager-- borderline desperate, really-- and Jade allows him to squirm closer, encouraging him by placing his hands onto Azul’s waist.

It’s intense. Jade has had a few brief kisses in passing, but nothing that has felt quite like this-- nothing that makes heat creep along his skin and makes him itch with desire to pull Azul closer because he can’t get close enough. Azul seems to mirror his enthusiasm, adjusting the tilt of his head and deepening the kiss easily once Jade allows him.

It’s only once one of Jade’s hands creeps to the back of him, dipping a bit lower to--

“Jade! What--” Azul breaks the kiss abruptly, startling backwards from him with a squawk. His face is intensely flushed, a sight that Jade admires as he falters with his words. “Did you just goose me!?”

Jade giggles, a fond but impish wide grin splitting his face.

“Apologies. I’ve always found it rather cute, and I admit I was a bit curious how it would feel since it’s a rather recent development.” Jade is thoroughly amused. Azul merely scoffs, shaking his head, though he doesn’t seem too truly offended, considering he flops forward, attempting to hide his blush in Jade’s shoulder.

“You are a menace.”

[misplacedreporter]

Maybe, Meryl thinks, if she keeps her eyes closed then it won't be real.

(It's not real anyway, not really. Not in any sort of physical sense–it's all in her head, and it's only real in the ways that matter, but in every other way this isn't actually happening at all.

It's always been like that with them though; unsaid promises lingering between them tying them together with little red strings were the only things that had been substance. Everything else had just been fluff for other people.)

"It's okay, Merry."

Meryl flinches from the hand that lands on her head, knocking her hat askew, breath hitching in her chest. (Not real, not real, not real–

Real, the cube hums back. Look.)

Vash's eyes are still blue, and Meryl hurriedly rubs her eyes as her vision blurs; he waits, patient as she scrubs. Merry. She hasn't–no one's called her that in awhile. Not since Julai, not since before Julai. The night before the sand steamer, she thinks. Too long.

"Shut up, Nicholas." He hasn't said a word, but she can feel his amusement, radiating from behind Vash. He leans past his shoulder, all wide grins and sharp teeth, a hand knocking her hat further away to ruffle her hair.

"Don't cry, Blueberry. You're doing alright. We're here. We've been here."

(Here, the cube agrees quietly. Here, here.

Here means not there, though. Here means gone.)

"And you're both okay with this? With–"

"Blueberry, this is the funniest fucking shit I have ever seen in my life," Nicholas interrupts, yanking a lock of her hair between rough fingers as she scowls up at him. "Seriously. Two of me. And Vash I guess." He grunts as Vash elbows him in the stomach, giving him a look before he holds his arms out to Meryl in offering.

"What he means, Merry, is that we don't mind. Really. It's fine. You're happy, right? That's the important bit. Don't worry about the rest."

She hesitates, before accepting the hug. It's the same as she remembers, one hand snapping out to drag Nicholas into it even as he grumbles about it. (Not that he denies either of them. He never has.)

"It's time for you to go," Vash says finally, peeling himself away with a sigh. With a small wave and a little push, Meryl stumbles away, Nicholas draping over Vash's shoulder to wave lazily as she goes.

Meryl doesn't stop watching them until her eyes open again and she's staring at the ceiling of the truck, the cube vibrating quietly in her bag.

(Real, the cube whispers quietly. Real.)

[reastless]

a kitchen knife taught you the secrets of the universe, and then you had to bear it

ooc: howdy, drabble about luke killing his father, tw for that and implied child abuse !

Your whole entire world was waiting for what you would do. It did not hold its breath, but you became aware that it politely was giving you a chance.

Your mother wept in the kitchen and didn’t touch the landline, and she waited for what you would do. Your father had his hands squeezed around your broken throat so he could break it more, and he waited for what you would do. By all logic, you should’ve just died like they thought you would. It could have been over then if you’d frozen, but despite everything, you didn’t freeze.

And for the first time in your miserable existence, even if only for a moment, you were hungry. You were insatiable. The universe was about to feed you.

Because despite swallowing lifetimes of torment by your teens, you have never wanted to die. You only wanted relief. You wished it upon an uncaring horizon only because it brought you comfort to pretend it was listening. You wanted so badly to live, and you had never felt it more fiercely than then, when death was sitting on top of you and life was a split-second decision away.

You were never anything but dust on your father’s shoes. So, when you wrapped your small fingers around the discarded handle of the kitchen knife, you hadn’t much time to think, but you distinctly remembered two things, though you only articulated them later: The first was that your father did not believe you had the guts to grab that knife, or else he never would have left it where he dropped it. The second was that by all logic you had ever known, this would feel good. You weren’t afraid to grab the knife. You were only afraid of what would happen if it didn’t kill him.

He might have died proud of you for the first time. You did not care to think about it.

You don’t remember much about killing him. It was as if you were ripped from your body and your soul commanded its movements without need for any presence of thought. You stabbed him. You kept going. You did not stop, because you were smart. You wanted this, and you weren’t going to do it halfway. That man was dead on the kitchen floor with red light from the sunset soaking through the curtains long before you finished bringing down the knife. You only stopped because you exhausted yourself and could not afford to be out of breath.

When it was over, you were covered in blood, and it didn’t matter who it belonged to. You looked upon your work, upon the puncture wounds turning your father’s chest to raw meat.

The thought that came to you was a piercing clap of thunder, the kind that scared you so badly you cried when you were young (before you learned to do that quietly because your mother could not help you). You looked into his wide, dead eyes with your own wide, dead eyes of the same shape and color, and you saw all the evil in the universe broken open and bleeding on the floor. It didn’t feel good.  

None of it felt like your thought it would. It was supposed to feel good. Why didn’t it feel good? If your existence was anything, it was consistent, except for now when all you understood suddenly broke apart in your hands and left you to figure out the repulsive implications. But you didn’t want to figure them out. You didn’t even want it to feel good anymore. You just didn’t want it to feel unbearable. But you have never gotten anything you wished for onto a sky that you knew was never listening, and you suddenly hated it viscerally. You hated every wish you had ever made onto that uncaring vast emptiness that fell upon deafness. And it did not even have the decency to let you scream with the pain of it.  

It was evil what your father had done to you, and what he had demanded of you tonight. And you had never been more horrified because you did not feel good. If you had a working throat and weren’t wheezing for scraps of air, you could have wailed. You could have torn your hair out and choked up bile and wailed for your mother, for not your mother, for the world to eat itself quickly before you had to live with this knowledge for another second. Before you had to risk anyone ever finding out the truth like you, because surely no one else could know. How could they endure it? You have seen the most terrible monster and it is not dead. It would never, ever die. You knew then that this would eat you forever. You would be saddled with this burden until you died and it would outlive you. It would kill the world and everyone inside of it and eat the earth hollow, and it was so patient. You were helpless against it. Everyone was.

Still wishing you could scream, you heaved rattling, horrible breaths, and it hurt. You collapsed on your back, tears flowing unbidden from the corners of your father’s eyes. You suddenly did not know if living was what you wanted after all. The splatters of blood beneath your body looked like wings.

[fatestouch]

change, pt 1.

It was a relatively quiet day at the Grimsbane estate, all things considered. Especially with how chaotic things had been lately.

And yet... some couldn’t help but feel that this was a calm before the storm. Many had witnessed how, in the case of the elders in the family, the normally at ease Felix had grown angry to the point where there was very nearly a slaughter.

So imagine the younger family member’s surprise when Felix just... left. Without a word. It was jarring, and eerie. Not to mention that some of them saw a bat flying away after Felix, before they both vanished into shadows.

The older ones thought nothing of it, called them cowards. But a few of the younger witches... oh, they knew.

Something was coming.

“Some things will change, but the esteemed Grimsbane estate will always stay the same.”

It was like a blink. One moment, the courtyard was partially vacant. And in the next... there they were.

“And here I thought Juno was exaggerating... even the magic smells stagnant here. This is the magical equivalent of opening a dusty old closet that hasn’t been cleared out in years.” Killian gave the estate a judgemental look over. “Should I expect mothballs? Or tumbleweeds?”

“Now, that’s a bit rude, Killian! Even if it is a bit... dusty, here~” Lea smiled, delicately covering her nose. “Enzo was right, as always... this place is in dire need of intervention.” She looks over. “Spirit? Are you alright?”

“The air here is very... stifling. I don’t think I care for it.” He sighs, making a face. “Can we be about our business and be off, Master?”

“I get how you feel, Spirit, but be patient. Staying for a bit will be worth it, trust me.” Patting Spirit’s shoulder, Cecil’s gaze wandered... before landing on one of the witches staring at them, stunned and stock still. “Hm... you. What’s your name?”

“M-me...? Uh... Noel! ...Er, m-milord!”

Cecil smiled. “Noel. Why don’t you take the others here, run along and gather the elders here, hm? And...” He beckoned the young witch over, and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Anyone who you think might be... more than a little stubborn. Or... resistant to change. Do you see what I’m saying~...?”

Noel looked up at Cecil then in wonder, and then his dark eyes shined with... something, before he nodded once, and turned to gather his friends.

And Cecil had to admit, they were swift. In a matter of moments, the courtyard was filled with people, and at the forefront were a small group of older witches and the elders.

Quite the crowd. Sweeping his gaze around, Cecil noted just how many seemed wary, anxious, confused... and the ones who looked anticipatory.

Interesting.

“You avoid returning for months on end, and when you finally return, you gather us in a group like cattle--”

Cecil didn’t even need to say anything before the man who spoke was decapitated without another word being said.

“You really should be more respectful, when in the presence of a god.”

“Spirit.”  Cecil’s tone was lightly chiding. “I know you’re in a bad mood, please save the fun for the main event, hm~?”

The witch huffed, but bowed his head nonetheless. “My apologies, Master.”

“No worries. But!” Cecil clapped once. “Let’s not waste any time. I’m here with a purpose, after all! And that purpose, gentlewitches of the Grimsbane family... is that I’m here to help you. You see, I’ve been going back and forth on the state of this family. And finally, I’ve seen what the problem is!”

“Rejoice. A new era for you all starts today, right here, right now.”

[duunswitch]

The time's come for choices, little witch. Will you stay or will you go?

Leanne crouches, facing the double tailed cat as she wrapped her hands around her knees to help keep her balance. There hadn't actually been words, but she understands all the same; if she stays, she can't go back. Not easily, and not without likely being unable to ever find her way back here if she wants to return.

They'll take her if she asks, if she wants to go. They'd brought her here after all, and had never intended her to stay. But things had happened, and now–the risks are high, their joke's no longer funny. Time's up. She's no longer trapped, they'll open the way if she only says yes.

Julai looms in the future, and if she turns back now she'll never have to learn what's waiting there. Never have to see whatever it is that frightens Vash, and leaves fear buried in her own bones. (But she can't leave him to face whatever it is on his own; she'd made a promise to stay, so there's really only one choice she could ever make.)

A slow shaky breath, and she smiles brightly. "Sorry, can I take a rain-check on going back? Say, forever?" The flick of the cat's tail pulls a jagged laugh out of her throat before she can help it, dropping her face into her knees for a moment. "Yeah, I know. But if you take it back then I can just go on my own, anyway. Your magic won't be in the way anymore. So–I think I'll stay. It's scary and nothing like home, but I like it here."

She lifts her head slightly, catching the cat's eye as it tilts its head. Yawns, stretches. The two share a long look before she breaks eye contact first.

Then let your choice be known. Goodbye, little witch and merry magic.

"Thank you."

She's alone a heartbeat later, forcing herself up to her feet. She's going to have to tell him sooner than later, but–a tingle of magic in her fingers, and she exhales at the feeling. Magic and faith, that's all Leanne needs. (All she has, it'll have to be enough.)

They've got this.

[linesofmagic]

Catching up

Words: 1,617 Hawk and Lark have a chat. For @ofviolentdeath

His hands shake slightly as he reaches for the door handle, walking into the mostly empty diner. Hawk sits in one of the booths, looking older than he did the last time Lark ever saw him, but not nearly as old as he should look. Not even older than Lark looks.

His brother, at least, seems just as nervous as he feels. There’s some comfort in that. It took him ages to come around to the idea of this reunion. But now that it’s here, he almost wishes he hadn’t agreed to it.

He settles into the booth across from Hawk, who gives him a tight smile.

—

This… isn’t a conversation Hawk ever expected to have. He missed Lark, worried about him, hoped for the best. But he always thought if he went anywhere near his family, he’d be killed instantly. And that probably would have been true before Gwen. Part of him is worried it will still be an issue, that Lark will never fully be able to move on. He wants his brother to meet his family, to get to know Bells and the kids. He won’t bring him anywhere near them until he knows it’s safe.

(The idea that Bells can ever be in danger from a hunter is almost laughable. Hawk isn’t laughing. He won’t risk it.)

“You’re um… young.”

Hawk snorts. It’s just such a dumb observation. A terrible ice-breaker. And yet, it’s a mirror of his own first thought. “You’ve grown up.”

“Time normally does that.”

“It’s definitely supposed to.”

The waiter comes and takes their orders. Hawk gets a burger. Lark sticks with just coffee. Hawk shoots him a look over that.

“You’re not going to feel great if you don’t eat food.” And it should feel more like a sibling fussing over a sibling, but Hawk feels an awful lot like a parent. This feels like a conversation had with any of the kids, not with any of the siblings he has now. He doesn’t know how to be a brother to Lark.

Lark sighs and adds some fries to the order.

Not ideal, but Hawk decides not to push it. The waiter leaves them alone again. The kid isn’t any more human than Hawk, so he knows there won’t be any awkward questions to deal with later. He’d almost suggested doing this at a Waffle House. They’re actually pretty empty at the right time of day and part of him thought it would be funny. The other part of him thought he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t bring Bells with him to Waffle House for any reason. So he’d picked this local joint instead, knowing the staff is supernatural and knowing it’s about as safe an option as he has.

He’s also sure Bells is very, very nearby. Just in case. He knows she worries, even without an immediate threat around. He doesn’t think Lark is a threat, but neither of them know for sure. He won’t judge her for however many boundaries she has to cross here to feel better.

—

Lark doesn’t know how to do this anymore than Hawk does. He didn’t get more siblings or a new family after his brother ‘died.’ In fact, his family got smaller. He lost Hawk and then their aunt and it was just him and their parents. Not ideal. Having two kids means the focus isn’t entirely on one, the pressure isn’t entirely on one.

Losing one of those kids means the pressure ratchets up.

“I missed you,” Lark says, and it sounds awkward, but it doesn’t feel like there’s any way to have this conversation without things being super awkward.

“I missed you, too. I… wanted to come back. When I was old enough to realize that was an option. I thought about it constantly.”

“Mom and dad would have killed you.”

“Or made you do it.”

Hawk’s right, but somehow that horror hasn’t crossed his mind before. His stomach knots at the thought of it. Hunting families are so fucked up. CPS would be called on all of them a million times over if they ever stayed in one place long enough for someone to witness their bullshit.

“I, uh, heard you married a Delaney.”

The softest of smiles slips on his lips and that tells Lark more than anything he can say will. “Yeah. Bells. She’s… I’m not gonna lie, I thought she was going to murder me when we first met. You’re not supposed to murder your partner in an arranged marriage situation, but I thought she would find a way to make it happen.” He shrugs. “But she didn’t. And she’s… kind of amazing? She’s kinder than she gives herself credit for – don’t you dare fucking tell anyone that, though – and she’s great with the kids and she’s funny and smart and, gods, I just… I love her a lot, y’know? Even though she’s also absolutely, undeniably terrifying. I love that, too.”

“Do you feel safe with her?”

“Yes.”

There’s no pause, no hesitation. Lark wonders at that. Leaving one family that did awful, awful things only to find another that does the same. Then again, it’s probably different when the awful things aren’t being done to you.

—

Hawk doesn’t know how to phrase the question he wants to ask, because he’s gathered they’re not together but he doesn’t really know why. He’s not sure he has a right to know. Obviously the shifter thing is throwing him off, but if Lark is sitting here, having this conversation, and willing to listen to Hawk, then the shifter thing can’t be the only problem.

He can’t figure out how to phrase it tactfully, so he goes with, “So Gwen?” and watches Lark’s reaction.

A smile ghosts over his lips, gone almost before Hawk even sees it. “She’s uh… probably the nicest, kindest person I’ve ever met in my life.”

And it sounds like a compliment. And it is a compliment. But Hawk also knows what that means when you grew up as a hunter. “I don’t think she’s as fragile as you’re worried she is.”

“Physically? No, absolutely not. She’s probably stronger than me.”

“She’s definitely stronger than you.”

“But it’s–”

“Kindness isn’t weakness.”

“Isn’t it though? I mean, I get that kindness isn’t bad. I’m not arguing that. But it’s still dangerous. She knew what I was the whole time we were friends. She walked into that shitshow of a situation with eyes wide open, because she thought I needed help more than she needed safety. How many people worse than me are going to exploit that?”

“Probably a lot less than you’d guess. Her family isn’t going to let her get hurt.”

“She already did get hurt and it was a lot more my fault than I’m okay with.”

“Then how do you make sure it doesn’t happen again?”

“It’s not that simple.”

Hawk lets out a low growl and sees Lark flinch at the response, but he can’t make himself care. “Lark. It is that simple. You can’t change the past. But you can impact the future. When something bad happens to someone you care about, your first priority is to make sure they’re okay and your second priority is to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“One of my kids was kidnapped and tortured once. We didn’t give his kidnappers the chance to do it again and we made it very clear that you shouldn’t mess with our family.” He knows Bells still shoulders too much of the guilt from that and he can never fix that for her, but he doesn’t blame her for their actions. He doesn’t blame Fiero for being soft and kind, either. “No one has ever bothered our kids again. Even the kind ones.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” There isn’t a way to talk about that without it being horrifying. It was awful and it’s not something that can be sugar coated. “You do you, dude, but if your goal is to protect her? It’s a lot easier to do when you’re close together than it is to do from a distance.”

“I just… need more time, I guess.”

“She’s not going to wait for you forever.” That might be a bluff. He doesn’t know Gwen well enough to say it one way or the other. But Lark seems like he needs a good kick in the pants on this one.

“Yeah, I know. And she shouldn’t. But I can’t rush it, y’know? It’s a lot to wrap my head around.”

Hawk raises his brows in response to that. As if he doesn’t know exactly what that’s like?

“...right. Sorry. That was a dick thing to say.”

“Sure was. But you’re figuring it out.”

“Can I, uh, hear about your kids? I’m sure you’re not ready to introduce me and I’m not all that ready to meet them either, but I’d like to know more about them if you’re okay with it.”

“...you’re lucky that’s an effective subject change.” But Hawk can talk about how much he loves his family any time. He can say something good about all of his kids, Kai and Marissa included. So he does. He launches into stories of raising the kids, of what they’re like. He… definitely does gloss over just how murderous some of them are. This is already a lot for Lark. He’ll ease him into those details. But he’s open about a lot of the rest of it.

He wants his brother to meet his family one day, and he wants Lark to want that for himself. They’re not there yet, but hopefully they will be one day.

[babyitsmagic]

A Sibling Chat

Naoise and Kieran have a conversation. For @ofviolentdeath

Words: 998

“Why are you threatening people in my home?” 

Kieran is eating breakfast when Naoise barges into his kitchen. But it’s only fair. Kieran had ambushed Blake in a not-dissimilar fashion.

He sets down his tea and gives Naoise his full attention. It’s the only way to handle this. “I’m not threatening just anyone who enters your home and you know it. And I am fairly certain you know exactly why I made the threat.”

Naoise scowls and sits, uninvited, at the table, reaching over to steal one of the berries from his brother’s plate. Kieran doesn’t even pretend like he’ll try to stop him. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Do you really? I’d think you’d prefer I not say it, actually.”

“Since when do you hold back your true opinions?”

“Are you going to listen to what I have to say? Because I see no point in saying it if the answer is no.”

“I’ll listen.”

“Hearing it and internalizing it are not the same thing and you’re well aware of that.”

Naoise shrugs in response. There’s no argument he can give against that that isn’t a lie.

Kieran lets out a sigh. Fine. They can play this game. Kieran will tell him and Naoise will ignore him and it will turn into a giant mess. This is how they operate now, apparently. He holds Naoise’s gaze, unflinching, and says, “I think Blake will break your heart and I do not know if you can handle that.”

“And what does Nuala think?” He has no doubt they discussed it long before Kieran made his move.

“You know what she thinks.”

“Do I?”

Kieran gives him a pointed look. “Take a guess.”

Fair enough. He probably does know what she thinks. “Something about a pet?”

“A pet that you’ve let too far off the leash, to be exact.”

It’s an important distinction and an alarming one. He’ll have to do something about that, but he needs to do something about this first. One sibling at a time. “Thank you for clarifying.” He knew. He knew that Nuala would be a problem, but that bit of information has made her a bigger issue in his mind than he expected.

“I do not wish to see you broken, Naoise.” He knows that asking about Nuala is a quick and easy way to dodge the point of the conversation, but if Naoise insists they have this discussion, they’re going to have it.

“What makes you think he’s going to break me?”

That isn’t a denial of it and he wonders if Naoise even can deny it. Or does he also think it’s a possibility? “You do. You’ve changed. And if I’ve noticed it, I’m sure others have too. Either he will die and it will ruin you or he will leave and it will ruin you. I do not think there’s an option where he falls in love with you and you get to be happy.”

“What makes you think I want that?”

“I do not think you would have put in the effort to be… less fae, if you did not want something from him. If you did not want his opinion of you to change for the better.”

“Is friendship not reason enough?”

“Is it? It might be for some, but I don’t know if it is for you.” Kieran knows Naoise has always been picky about his friends. He has allies, of course, but his friends number in Neva and, if Kieran is generous with the term, Ki-moon. Maybe Howell, if that particular fae is capable of friendship. Maybe Tiaothin, if she isn’t scheming something herself. So if Kieran is counting the ones he knows for certain won’t betray Naoise? It’s only Neva.

“It could be.”

Which is neither a yes nor a no, but it’s likely the only answer Kieran is getting on that front.

Naoise steals another berry from his plate. “I am�� trying not to be possessive about this–” Which in and of itself is a reason to be having this conversation. Naoise wouldn’t have cared about something like that once. “--but Blake is… if not mine, he is my business. And I would appreciate it if you let me make my own choices and decisions where he is concerned. I know that you feel you owe me a debt and I won’t make light of that, but do not expect to repay it through Blake. Whether he does or does not break my heart, I certainly knew what I was getting into from the start and how I handle it is on me.”

“He’s… an odd one.” Under different circumstances, Kieran might even like the other. But he doesn’t trust anyone who grew up in the mortal realm. He’s not sure he ever can.

“Yes. I rather like it about him. It’s refreshing, if sometimes infuriating or alarming. Did you know there are fae who grew up on the mortal side that don’t know the rules of hospitality?”

“I’m sorry. There are what?” Kieran almost doesn’t believe that, except that Naoise can’t lie so it must be true. It’s… disconcerting at best.

His brother nods. “Isn’t it strange to think about?”

“Bizarre.” Naoise reaches for his food again and this time Kieran bats his hand away. “I make no promises not to intervene if he hurts you on purpose. If it’s unintentional, I will leave it be. That is the line I’m willing to draw.”

Naoise sighs and stands. “Not ideal, but I will take the victories I can get. Especially now that I know I need to be concerned about Nuala.”

“If you wish to avoid her interference, you may want to talk to her sooner rather than later. Or you may wish to not bring it up at all. Hard to say which is the better course of action.”

“I suppose I will figure it out.”

“Best of luck.” 

Naoise nods a thanks before leaving Kieran to enjoy his day off.

[of-forossa]

ruin.

By the light of grace, the golden glory of the Greater Will made manifest, Brom is spat out onto the bank of a river as though he's a foul morsel tumbling from the mouth of a displeased party. But even the influence and bindings of an outer god cannot so easily extinguish the ire of a god roused from slumber-- steam rises from his flesh and seeps through the plates of his armor, the steel and the chainmail beneath already threatening to bend and warp beneath the steadily increasing heat.

Brom gasps and struggles to breathe, choking as smoke and ash spill from his mouth in eerie resemblance to the blood that had done the same but hours ago. Lips blackened and tongue scoured by the hot debris still being heaved out, he can only curl in on himself until his fit subsides and he can breathe enough to chase off the darkness that had begun to cloud his sight. Every bone ached and grinded from within so fiercely he could almost hear them, every inch of skin felt raw and feverish from being scoured into nothingness by the fury of his own god made manifest... a fury that even now feels ready to ignite within him.

Desperation is enough to fuel him where will and strength fail him. Brom crawls across the grass and rocks, one clawing handful after the other, paying no mind to bloody mess his face is becoming as it's dragged across the ground. Already the smell of his own flesh being ignited again threatens to send him tumbling into the void once more, and as the hard ground gives way to mud and sand he can already feel the first flames lapping away at his armor again.

He can't contain the howl that's wrenched from him when he touches the water and sinks into the thick mud. Steam billows up with the hiss not unlike that of some great serpent, the mud hardening and shattering around his knees as he submerged himself entirely. The shock is enough to send his fractured mind tumbling into unconsciousness if for a moment... before reality comes crashing back into being, and he clings pathetically to the shore lest he be dragged under by the current and properly drowned.

There, Brom stays. Chilled down to the very bones, shivering and clenching his teeth hard enough for his jaw to ache, yet grateful for anything other than the feeling of being set aflame. Only his neck remains above the surface, his legs buried up to the waist in mud as his broad arms cling tightly to a stone settled near to the shore.

"... b-be quiet." He musters, his voice a shaky and hoarse whisper. "Be q-quiet. You ask t-too... too much of m-me. Be quiet." When he squeezes his reddened eyes shut, blinking away the water, he can still see them. Shadows towering over him, cast by a fire that is not behind but within himself as it eats away at every part of him until nothing remains. A great eye looking down upon him balefully, furiously, the rage his own but not as it was for all of his ancestors and all their descendants.

Wrath. Destruction. Ruin.

"Stop l-looking at me. Your v-vengeance is g-gone. M-Marika, Godfrey, they're all g-gone."

Yet the gaze of the fell god never wavers.

Brom does not rise from the river until the dawn of the next day. When all is at last quiet again.

[rohankama]

Penny drabbles

Sex ed was a fucking nightmare.

Every single child of the Gene was stupidly singled out in each class. The messenger, long nosed and poised with an air of authority that the teachers could never seem to pull off, called out their names one by one, hardly glancing away from his clipboard when they approached. He simply handed them a red card, detailing the time and classroom in which they were to attend a ‘special class’ just for ‘monsters like you and me’.

It was such targeted bullshit.

The worst thing, besides the many eyes staring and the pointed snide whispers, was that by the time she was supposed to start learning she was born a freak of monsterkind, she already fucking knew it.

---

“The Family is having a little get-together this evening, my love.”

Her mother sweeps into her room, all smiles and perfectly crafted face. Penny watches from the bed as the shade of her mother darts to the closet, shifting through it without so much as a glance her way.

“We would have told you as soon as you got home from school, but your Fathers meeting went on so much longer than we’d anticipated!”

Penny stares at her mothers back, now covered in a glittering silver sheath of a dress. Clearly seeing in her minds eye the marks her father’s nails had left while she sat on his lap, moaning to an audience of salivating men. 

Yeah, right. Sure was quite the meeting.

A breathless twitter of a laugh as her mother shoves all the normal clothes ruthlessly to the side, revealing the gems she sought, glittering swathes of fabric normally shoved as far to the side of the closet as possible. Penny grimaces, and looks away.

Dull eyes turn down to her lap, long brown locks falling to either side, concealing her from mother as she continues to patter on and on. The pencil and notebook in hand blur in her vision, and she closes her eyes tight. 

She’s just so tired. Tired of trying to keep up with school. Tired of keeping half an eye on her door while she worked. Half afraid some frenzied friend of her parents’ would burst in. More afraid her drunk father would call her out to play maid in the aftermath. She really, really didn’t want to dress-up and play the perfect little darling of a budding lady when she felt like anything but.

“Why do we still bother going anyway?” She mutters, throat tight. “They all know we’re pretending, so, why do we still have to bother?”

A hard hand digs into her shoulder, and she flinches back, head snapping up. Meeting her mothers eyes, still tinged with magenta light, as she shoves a dress into her hands.

“It isn’t pretend, Penelope. We are Blooks, one of the oldest, most influential families in the underground.” Her mother smiles at her, and delicately tucks one of her long locks behind her pointed ear. “We deserve a place at the table.”

Mothers hand lifts from her shoulder as she flits away, prattling on about something or another; Penny isn’t listening. It doesn’t matter. If mother actually needed her, she’d call her fucking name or something.

She carefully slots her pencil and notebook into her inventory before getting up and standing before her little-used vanity, holding the dress up before her. Yellow, with three layers of frills. She snarls at her reflection before she gets to changing.

‘We are Blooks’, what a joke. As soon as Dad’s business finally dies, they’ll kick us to the wayside, and the only fucking reason you married dad will go out the window. 

Whatever. At least I’ll get dinner.

---

She gets her dinner alright.

To bad she immediately wants to vomit it all up.

As soon as they get home, she’s in her room, only taking a moment to lock the fucking door and shove a chair under the knob before ripping that fucking dress off. Someone shouts at her, but the roar in her ears drowns it out. It didn’t matter. Buttons pop off, ribbons flutter haphazardly to the ground along with strands of hair. It didn’t matter. It didn’t fucking matter.

Stripped down to her underwear, she rips the longest coat she owns out of her closet and throws it on, shaking hands fumbling with the zipper. The voices outside her door are ignored as she lurches for her window, the zipper finally catching, pulled up to her chin.

She climbs her bed, shoves the window open, and hurls herself onto the fire escape.

The air outside is cold, and she gasps. But she doesn’t stop, scrambling up the side of the old metal walkway, dangling high above the streets below. She pulls herself up, and up, and up, and up, until finally she reaches the roof. Gravel digs into her feet, and then her ass, as she collapses, panting and shaking in the chill of the night.

Artificial stars glitter high above, the hollow dome of the mountain switched to nightmode. Faint red light from the elevators slowly rising and falling is the only thing that moves up there. She stares at the slowly moving light and lets her breathing calm. Then, slowly, she lays back against the gravel, the hard concrete, and unzips her coat.

Her shell was built to insulate her, but the cold still bites. The underwear and stockings don’t do much at all; she shivers, feeling every inch of exposed ‘skin’ with more clarity than she’s ever done before.

Curling on her side, she flicks her tiny tail. Rubs her legs together. Reaches up and traces the outline of pointed ears. The jut of her chin and her stupid little nose. Eyelashes flutter against her palms before she presses against her eyes.

Everything’s all up and settled with the crafter- oh, I don’t understand how all this metalwork mumbo jumbo works, but isn’t this blueprint simply stunning? We’ll make you into quite the lovely young lady, dearie, just you wait and see: Grandma never disappoints.

She wants to scream, to shout and cry and rage, but all of it is lodged in the back of her throat. 

Her throat for now. Until her gene kicks in.

“I don’t want this stupid gene, I don’t want a new shell, why was I even born if all they fucking want is a GODDAMN DOLL!!”

There’s her scream, finally, ripping her throat open on the way out. Fists slam against the roof as she glares up at the fake stars glittering away high, high above. She screams and grabs a fistful of grit and throws it up at those stupid pretty lights, and only manages to get dirt in her eyes.

She flinches at the pain and rubs furiously at her eyes with the sleeve of her filthy coat. There are no tears. She will not cry.

Stupid, stupid stupid... why did everything have to be so fucking stupid...

[millionsnife]

There is a city on the sun.

He dreams of it, the city on the sun.

The streets burn beneath his feet, fire and molten gold for all that they do not burn him; it should burn and yet each step is unhesitating as if he knows they will not, confidence in every stride. Follows roads to various destinations, new and different with each night's iteration.

He knows instinctively that this is not either sun above Gunsmoke, not a sun he has ever seen and yet he knows this sun intimately. Knows it in his very bones, every lick of flame and burning inch of it carved inside of him in a way he can't escape. Recognizes the faces like his that he passes within the dream.

(Home beats in his blood, pulsing with the same frequency as the sun and city he roams. This is home, it is where he's meant to be. This is where he was meant to be be all along, on this bright burning corona rather than in the deep dark of space or the burning sands of a desert planet with the wrong suns–

he wonders if Vash dreams of this too, feels the call of home from a sun they've never seen, people they've never met.)

It's disorienting to wake, these days. Long moments to separate the dream from reality. And he turns to squint at the suns once he does, wondering.

(Come home, he hears. Ignores.)

[twistmusings]

Drabble - Azul x Sub!Top!MC

CW: Extremely NSFW, Petplay, dom/sub, biting, restraints, finger sucking, frottage, shibari, sensory play. MC is gender neutral but tops, and it's not clarified if the penetration is with a toy or not but it is referred to as "dick" a couple of times.

Azul’s laugh is low, dark, and rich, his lips quirk up into a rather cruel smile that they can’t see through the silk blindfold that is wrapped around their eyes. They always look so good like this, their chest heaving despite the fact that they haven’t been touched and glistening with a fine misting of sweat.

They’re entirely at his mercy. They gave him this power: turned their control over to him willingly and readily. The mere thought is enough to make Azul’s head spin: that they trust him so much. They kneel before him, patiently waiting as he painstakingly looped the ropes together that bind their arms behind their back and the ones that weave patterns that decorate their chest. They have leaned into the fleeting touches he’s traced along their exposed skin.

Azul licks his lips, feeling the urge to sink his teeth into them and leave rings of teeth marks on their shoulders. He has to remind himself to be patient-- after all, there will be plenty of time for that later. For now he has a much bigger treat in mind, so he leans back against the pillows that are propped against the headboard of the bed. He takes a hold of the leash that is attached to the pretty black collar that hugs their throat wrapping it around his hand a couple of times. He gives the lead a gentle tug, hearing the creak of the leather under the pressure and they immediately perk up to full attention.

“Come.” Azul commands, and he can see the way the command registers through their body by the way they shiver. They shuffle forward on their knees, only stopping once they bump against the vee of his spread legs.

Azul smirks to himself, then gives another, harder tug on the leash that earns a surprised gasp as they nearly tip forward. They narrowly catch themself, though, before they land on him.

“Closer. I didn’t tell you that you could stop.” They lean forward, forced to flex their abdomen to keep from flopping forward onto him. Their body quivers a bit, but they don’t fall, and their dedication to following his initial direction to not touch until told makes his dick twitch against his stomach.

Azul makes them hold the position for a long moment before he reaches up with the hand that’s not holding onto the leash and brushes the palm of his hand down along the column of their neck, skating his fingertips along their collarbones and sliding around to the back of their neck to steady himself as he leans up to meet their lips.

He takes control of the kiss so easily that it almost feels like he’s bullying them, his tongue sliding against their own and lapping against the sensitive roof of their mouth. He relishes the shuddering moan it earns him. So reactive, so good, all just for him. He’s going to thoroughly enjoy this.

He rolls their lip between his teeth as he pulls back, letting himself fall against the bedsheets again and watching them linger there, seeming to expect another kiss as their breath heaves.

“Tell me.” Azul begins, sliding one of his legs along the sheets and lifting it to press the ball of his foot gently at the junction of their hip and their folded leg. “Do you want to fuck me?”

They open their mouth to respond but seem to catch themself, closing it again resolutely and swallowing thickly. Azul can’t help but to grin-- so good at following instructions. Rule two was don’t speak until you are told to.

“You can speak until I tell you to stop.”

“More than anything, sir.”

“Is that so?” Azul presses his foot against their hip a little harder. He brings his free hand to their face, cupping their chin and tracing his thumb across their soft lower lip. He holds them in that suspense as he carefully considers exactly how he wants them. “You’ll do as I say and be a good pet for me, won’t you?”

“Yessir.”

“Even if I make you sit there and wait for an hour?” They don’t move, but he can see the subtle shift of tension in their shoulders. They pull their lower lip into their mouth, worrying it with their teeth. “Make you sit there and make you listen while I get off without you? Make you sit there pretty and just be eye candy for me while I touch myself?”

“Anything, sir.”

“Good pet.” Azul praises. “That’s enough speaking for now. Open your mouth.” They comply, letting their mouth drop open obediently. Azul dips his thumb into their mouth, pressing it gently against their tongue. “Suck.”

Azul then watched with rapt fascination as they hang their head ever so slightly just to draw more of his thumb into their mouth. They hollow their cheeks around it, and Azul can see the way their eyelids flutter through the fabric of the blindfold. They let out a submissive whine and it sends a wave of heat through Azul that makes him sweat in spite of the fact that he’s entirely bare.

His dick throbs against his stomach again.

With his hand now limiting their movement via his thumb in their mouth, he momentarily lets the leash drop so that he can blindly scrabble his now-free hand across the sheets to find where he’d dropped the bottle of lube. It takes a bit of fumbling to find it by its shape, but he doesn’t want to take his eyes off of them.

It isn’t graceful, but Azul finds it and manages to click open the cap one-handed. He squeezes a generous drop of it directly onto his dick as he toys with their tongue with the pad of his thumb. Satisfied for now, he drops the lube onto the other side of the bed again and wraps a hand around himself. He’s unable to keep himself from gasping and shivering slightly at the feeling of cold lube against his superheated skin.

When they hear the wet squelch of him touching himself, they groan wordlessly, seeming to suck his thumb more enthusiastically into the tight heat of their mouth.

The leg that had been perched against their hip slides, looping around to the back of them and urging them forward. As they shuffle forward, Azul lifts himself into their lap. He slots himself against them, letting their dick slide along his own lube-wet one, catching it with his slick hand along with his own. They let out a surprised-sounding groan around his thumb as he dampens the both of them with lube with long, slow strokes.

“So good for me…” Azul hisses the praise, his eyes fluttering closed as he revels in the feeling of his hand wrapped around the both of them and their body heat seeping into his skin and seeming to push his temperature impossibly higher. He catches himself getting too engrossed in the feeling, and he has to force himself to stop before he ruins their plans for the night. He releases his grip on the both of them, casting his gaze downward to make sure the two of them are lubed up enough. With a few more quick pumps of his hand he’s satisfied they are prepared enough.

As Azul pulls his hand away from them, he can see the momentary conflict in their expression as they struggle between their urge to follow his hand versus their desire to follow his orders. Their restraint wins out, but they don’t go without a small whine as Azul pulls his thumb from between their lips as well. He makes quick work of wiping away the stickiness on his hands on the towel he’d sat on the bed for them, making sure it won’t be a distraction to him before he again twines the leash around his right hand until it’s taut.

“Listen carefully, pet.” he begins. They straighten up, sitting at-attention for him. It makes another wave of heat roll through his body at having the full weight of their attention on him like this. “I’m going to let you inside of me.” Azul lets the words linger, licking his lips as he watches the way the idea registers with them and they squirm their hips at the prospect. “You will wait for me to give you the okay to move or you will get nothing tonight. Understood? You may speak.”

They swallow thickly.

“Yessir…”

“Good pet. You’re doing well so far. Take care that you don’t disappoint me.”

Azul slides his hands down between his legs, silently thanking his foresight to have prepared himself earlier before he’d bound them because he certainly didn’t have the patience to do it now. He guides them to his entrance, shifting his hips until he feels comfortable with how they rest on the pillows under him.

“Come in. Slowly.” Azul orders easily, tugging on the leash to reiterate the point. They shiver at the command and shuffle a little bit clumsily to get closer as they press into him. It takes a moment, but the minor resistance gives way easily, and they slowly sink into Azul. It punches a gasp out of him, and he arches his back at the feeling of fullness as they slide home in him. He has to pause to catch his breath as their hips press against his ass, finally. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times they top him, the initial feeling of them stretching him never seems to stop sweeping him off his feet. He thumps his head back against the sheets, breathing deeply as he allows himself a moment to adjust to the feeling.

“Move.” Azul commands, and they respond in turn, drawing back and pressing into him again. Azul lets his head fall back against the pillows underneath him, his free hand rising to their shoulder, his nails biting into their skin ever so slightly as he tries to ground himself with the grip on them. He feels like he should feel embarrassed by the fact that he finds this little bit of stimulation so intense but he can’t quite bring himself to care when he’s buzzing with the feeling of them rocking against him and whining the way they are.

It takes him a moment to remember what he was trying to do, but finally he reaches a hand up and tugs their blindfold down so that it dangles around their neck. They blink a few times, dazzled.

“Look at you…” Azul purrs breathlessly, tugging on their leash and causing them to lurch unsteadily closer to him and yet they don’t lose their rhythm. “Desperate like this. You can’t get enough, can you?”

They whine again, once again biting at their lower lip to keep whatever words are on their tongue from spilling out. Azul’s head spins, overwhelmed with the feeling of control that they have relinquished to him, and he laughs. It falls somewhere between cruel and overjoyed, and borders on unhinged as he watches the way their face flushes under his examination and he traces the fingertips of his free hand along their jaw, fingers curling possessively at their chin and ensuring that they’re looking at him. He, greedily, wants all of their focus on him at this moment. Nothing else matters but the two of them.

“You’re lucky you have someone as… generous as me.” Azul drawls out the syllables clumsily as he feels the tension in his belly grow tighter and hotter. He’s aware that he’s babbling, now, the filter between whatever filthy thing floats into his mind and his mouth is nearly nonexistent. “Who caters to your every need. The only one who can provide for you the way that you need, isn’t that right?”

They whine, hips stuttering and little more roughly against him as they gasp. Their eyes are glazed over in lust as they look up at him like they’re desperate to commit his image to their memory. He hopes they do-- hopes that him with their leash wrapped around his hand and demanding they fuck him lingers in their daydreams for months.

“Aren’t you lucky?”

They whimper a second time, and Azul can see the way they have to bite their tongue. They nod enthusiastically though.

“Hmm? What was that, pet? Use your words.”

“Yes…” They hiss the word, their voice warbling as they fuck him. “I’m so lucky. I… I” Azul watches the way their stomach twitches, and they look at him gritting their teeth and straining out a low moan. “I… I… Please, sir…”

Azul watches the way they flush further as they beg. They just couldn’t resist, huh? They must be close. No matter, he doesn’t mind in the slightest, considering that he feels like he’s teetering on a knife’s edge as well.

“Tell me what you need.”

“Please, I’m so close…” they whine, their movement reduced to a slow grind as they try to control themself. If he was feeling even a bit more mean he might make them sit with that for a few more minutes. The thought sends another wave of heat through him, though, and it only pushes his own patience to its limit.

“You can come as soon as you…” Azul has to pause as they jerk their hips forward at the mere prospect and grind against his prostate in a way that makes his eyes roll back in his head. He continues, breathless, “...as soon as you make me come.”

They groan, and apparently are reinvigorated by the command, snapping their hips against him. It’s nearly overwhelming in contrast to the lazy grinding they’d just been doing, and Azul loses control of his voice as it pitches up into a loftier register as his hands drop to the bedsheets and scrabble for purchase on the pillows. He plants his feet into the bedspread and arches his back into the intense, pleasurable feeling of them driving him quickly closer to his climax.

The thing that finally tips him over the edge is them finally slumping forward against him, their hips still sloppily driving them deeper into his heat as they mumble broken pleas for him to come against his collarbone.

Azul tosses his head back, groaning as he comes, dick pinned between their body and his own stomach. Half a second after his own climax, their rhythm stutters again and they press as deeply into him as they can as they come. Azul’s fingers relax on the sheets and instead they curl around his beloved rather possessively, holding them close against his chest in spite of the mess between them. For the moment, his desire to be clean is thoroughly outmatched by how exhausted and boneless he feels.

Still, he can’t sit on his laurels for too long. He reaches behind them to where he feels the binds on their arms and tugs on one of the loops, easily unraveling the rest of the tie and letting loose their arms. They let their arms fall, and Azul watches them gently flexing their fingers and elbows. He tosses the rope aside and does the same for the second set making the pattern across their chest. Satisfied they’re free, he pets a hand through their hair.

“Wonderful job.” he praises, leaning down to press a kiss against the crown of their head. They glance up at him, doe-eyed and smiling. He laughs, pressing a second kiss to their forehead.

He sighs and leans his head back against the pillows, allowing his eyes to close and reveling in the afterglow for another moment.

“...You look tired.” They say, softly, and he feels them lay their head against his chest. Azul acknowledges the statement with a slow scratch of their scalp. It’s a very long moment before he can work up the energy to speak.

“I am. But we need to clean up.” He insists, despite the fact that his voice seems to match his energy.

“Oooor, we could take a little nap and clean up after?” They laugh. “It’s not like it’s going anywhere. Besides, you already got lube on the sheets, so we’ll have to change them anyway.”

Azul groans, then sighs.

“...Very well. But only thirty minutes, alright?”

They hum, nuzzling closer to him, laying their head in the curve of his neck and shoulder, giving him a kiss. And despite the mess he knows is waiting for them, Azul finds that he’s the happiest he’s been in a long time.

[misplacedreporter]

read more for length tbh; i abused commas heavily and didn't bother betaing this beyond checking for typos and missing words

it's a heady thing, being seen; being heard is a new sensation and meryl can't get enough of it, of the way it feels to have the weight of vash and nico's full attention. she's here, she's real and she matters–

they let her speak, they listen and they obey. there's no reminders to be quiet meryl, be a good girl meryl, no good girls don't. there's only clever fingers branded into her skin and whatever you want, darlin', louder meryl, we want to hear you meryl.

she knows she's been changed irrevocably by this, by whatever it is they are, have. (they've been changed too–vash is more confident, more settled within his skin. nicholas' edges have been blunted into something softer, gentler. she did that, her hands have shaped them into this the way theirs have shaped her into what she's now become.) she can't go back to being unseen, unheard meryl knows; it'll kill her to try.

(she dies and dies and dies with every new reality, every world without them after theirs crashes down, where she is seen and she is heard but no one sees and no one listens. not in the right ways, not the ways that matter, the ways that she needs to be seen and heard, the way she doesn't fit into the spaces between them–)

the room's dim and dusty, nico's hands burn and he tastes like whiskey but he sees her and he hears her, and her lungs suddenly have air again. (when had she stopped breathing? how many worlds has she been suffocating?) meryl breathes and breathes and breathes, filling her lungs with the taste of cigarette smoke and leather, with gun oil and nico and blood. it's not the same but it's enough, he's enough.

(she changes again, rebranded and reformed as he fills the cracks in her heart with lead and brass and calls it gold. it's brittle but it's fine because he sees and he hears and he echoes back. he's here, she's here they're both real and they hear each other even if it hurts.)

[melancholicblossom]

It’s the smell of iron that always gets to him, he thinks, standing by the sink and running a hand through his pink bangs.

Steel, iron, metallic smells -- they’re commonplace in this Citadel, and Souza still isn’t all that used to it. Blood spilling onto the tatami was a common occurrence, so he wasn’t surprised to be scrubbing it off his knuckles. It really wasn’t often that he stood there, staring at himself in the mirror, gaze far away and distant. It’s the sting of flame that brings him back to his senses, the burning smoke from the grills outside.

He rests a hand above his chest, clutching the fabric lightly.

The mark of the Demon King.

A prized possession.

Never used on the battlefield ...

Souza’s brows furrow as he finishes rubbing the blood off his hands, wrapping the cut he’d endured in a little band-aid, touching his cheek lightly. Scarlet against porcelain skin. He’d just returned from the battlefield, where he’d been injured. Yagen works wonders for the citadel, and the repair room is where he spends a lot of his time after going out on sortie anyhow. Is this what he really wanted? To be used like this? At first, he thought so.

But now, he’s not so sure. Saniwa-sama has a quota to meet, he knows that much - the purpose of a blade is to be used, after all -- and he’s always wanted to be useful. But like this? Violently, in a war against history’s interlopers?

“Saniwa-sama,”

He says, quietly, to a room that he knows isn’t listening. To an entity he doesn’t understand, a person he doesn’t like to talk to, to anyone, anything that is listening nearby.

“i wish i could be like Kousetsu-niisama ... yearning for peace. and yet, i am just another blade, just another soldier in your war. i ... wish that i was fast like Heshikiri-kun, or maybe strong like Tsurumaru-dono, or crafty, like Kogitsunemaru-san. but i’m not. is that still okay? is that still alright, having a useless blade in your ranks?” “maybe i should have stayed a decoration ...” “sitting beside you and looking pretty ... that’s all i’m really good for.”

But he hears his name being called by Osayo, so he cleans up, forces the same smile onto his face, and heads outside, with his thoughts churning like the waves in the ocean.

[ramonathinks]

nanami drabble based on this (minors do not interact)

your sweet boyfriend nanami isn’t that old. but when he hears you say, “i want you to fuck me like a whore.” he gulps and almost spits out his drink.

“you want me to what?” he’s bouncing his leg and pulling you close against his chest to hear you say it again.

“i want you to fuck me.”

“don’t i always?” he chuckles, but the glint in your eyes are still there and a deep pout on your lips. “we always—”

“we make love. we have sex. but… i want you to fuck me. i want it rough and dirty—"

“do you know what you’re asking of me? i can’t… why would i want to be rough with my delicate baby, hm?”

“you can be rough with me and still show how much you love me… i love making love with you, but tonight i want you to just let loose and not so responsible,”

he thinks it over all night before he actually makes his way to bed. swallowing hard and his palms shaking. he’s never had this to be requested of him.

but when he sees you… naked and spread for him, he’s no longer thinking like the sweet man you know.

he’s flipping you over quickly and putting a hand over your mouth as he slips inside of you, no foreplay, just thrusting. a pinch of pain and your muffled voice making his eyes go hazy, his hips with a kind of their own as he pounds inside of you.

kissing and biting up and down your neck, he whispers words he never thought to urge, “you like when daddy fucks you? when i show you how this is mine?”

pushing your back down he continues, feeling you squeezing around him. tears streaming down your face and your eyes rolling back, “thought you wanted this? now you can’t speak? talk to daddy.”

but the only talking he can hear is the squishy sounds echoing off the walls as he fills your cunt, the fast thrashing of skin slapping together. “n-nanami—ah!”

your hands are pushing him away but he’s rubbing eagerly at your clit. “just a breakkkkk!”

“nuh uh. gonna break this pussy in, show her the new me.” your legs are shaking as he does a devilish smile, thrusting inside of you again

[linesofmagic]

An Overdue Intervention

Blake demands some answers from Ren and Valerian and it’s a hot mess. For @ofviolentdeath

Words: 2,780 (i... rapidly lost control of this one)

Blake prefers to take a very hands-off approach with his siblings. They all have their own shit they get up to and he stays out of it. It’s not that he doesn’t care. It’s just easier. They all lead their own lives and he couldn’t keep track of every detail of it even if he tried. He’s also not keen to hear about all the murder and more of his siblings than not get up to that. He’s not opposed to murder. He’s a Delaney and part keres and he married a woman made of death. But he doesn’t indulge in it for fun or business.

But it’s probably time to intervene here and, if nothing else, get some information.

“What the fuck are the two of you doing?” It’s blunt, but he knows better than to beat around the bush with either of them. Ren won’t understand it and Valerian will pretend he doesn’t, for the amusement of it. “With your respective partners, to be clear.”

“I don’t think I have any partners,” Valerian answers, faint smile on his lips. “But the last one is dead, if that’s what you meant.”

“You know exactly what I meant,” he says, giving him an unamused look in return. “But if you’d like me to clarify, what the fuck are you doing with Starla and Seamas?”

“Ah,” Ren says, as though he’s only now grasping how the question applied to Valerian. Maybe he is. Blake is… probably too out of practice talking with both of them. He needed to be way more specific than he was. Damn. Ren’s gaze flits over to Valerian. “You know, I think I’d like to know the answer to that myself. What are you up to with Seamas?”

“Not concerned about Star?” Valerian notes.

“Why would I be?” Ren answers and Blake is pretty sure it’s not a sarcastic answer. Ren’s list of people he cares about is larger than Blake ever expected it to be, but it still doesn’t reach their extended family. He’s not even sure it applies to all of their siblings. If he asked, he’d bet Evelyn is where Ren draws the line and that he doesn’t give a damn about anyone younger than her.

He isn’t going to ask. He isn’t giving Valerian an easy out to the question. Both of them stare down their younger brother.

“How about you go first?” Which isn’t an answer, but it’s not a blatant refusal to talk, either.

“I’m not doing anything with Seamas, or Starla,” Ren replies and this time Blake knows he is being a little shit about it.

“Not what I meant.”

Ren shrugs. “Conri and I live together and we’re raising children.”

Valerian lets out a soft laugh. “You sure are. Did you know Alucard threatened me a while back?”

Blake has a damn good poker face and it doesn’t drop at this information, but that is shocking to him. He wouldn’t have expected the kid to have it in him, even if he is being raised by Ren. From the look on Ren’s face, he hadn’t seen it coming either.

“That’s… news. Should I be impressed or concerned?” Ren asks.

“Both, probably. I was impressed, at least. Although I did… discourage him from trying to do it again.” At the dark look that earns, Valerian holds up his hands. “I didn’t hurt him. Jesus. But I did make it clear that I would if he provoked it, so…”

“Your turn,” Ren prods, continuing to glare at his brother.

“What about Fiadh?” Valerian returns and Blake wants to call him out on the subject change, but he also wants to know. What about Fiadh? Ren making the effort to save her isn’t something he thinks anyone saw coming. Some of the family probably lost money on that bet.

“...what about her?”

Blake can’t tell if he’s dodging or genuinely confused. He adds, “Do you have a plan there?”

Ren shrugs. “I don’t think I have a plan for any of this. It’s not like I knew I was going to end up caring about anyone, let alone starting a family. But I want to keep them safe, if that’s the question.” He shoots Valerian another dark look. “All of them.”

“Is that you claiming Seamas as family? Because you know mom won’t let you take it back once you do,” Valerian answers, his focus suddenly much more intense than it has been. He plays easy-going very well. Maybe because he is easy-going about some things. But he’s also intense and obsessive, like so many other members of their family.

Ren holds his gaze. “What are you planning?”

“Yes or no, Ren.”

“I’m not required to give you an answer.”

“Nor am I required to give you one.”

“Hey,” Blake interrupts, before the two of them can start a physical fight. He’s… actually surprised they haven’t before, especially where Seamas is concerned. “Play nice.”

“Do a better job mediating,” Valerian shoots back.

Blake rolls his eyes. “For that, you can go first.”

Valerian scowls, and Blake isn’t sure if it’s a genuine expression or if he’s just that good at mimicking what he’s supposed to be feeling. “Fine. I don’t think it matters anyway. Both because, whether or not Ren’s going to admit it, he definitely thinks of Seamas as his kid. And you for sure think of Alucard as yours, so I’ve just kind of been waiting for him to realize he could claim Seamas as family.” Maybe Alucard isn’t sure enough of his own status in the family to try it or maybe it just hasn’t crossed his mind yet, but Valerian knows he’ll figure it out eventually.

Ren doesn’t agree or disagree. Blake is getting a headache from this whole mess.

“Okay, so what the fuck were you up to?” Blake presses. Like pulling teeth with these two. Fuck.

“I’ll get to that, but first, a question.”

Blake sighs. Ren doesn’t react.

“So Starla. She’s like… There’s a lot of untapped magic there, right? I’m not the only one who can sense it?”

Ren’s brows furrow. Blake isn’t sure his little brother has actually spent any extended time around Star, but he has. “Yeah, probably. I mean, her parents are Britt and Az.”

“But do you sense it or is that just a theory you have because of who her relatives are?”

“...do you sense it?” Ren asks.

Valerian nods.

“Huh,” Blake says.

“That seems… like a bad skill for you to have. For… almost any of us to have,” Ren muses, which is more self-aware than he usually manages to be and Blake’s a little proud of him for achieving that.

“...I don’t think I knew it was just a me thing. Or at least not an all of us thing. Weird. Noted.” Oh, Blake hates that. It feels like they’ve just given Valerian some advantage he didn’t need. “Anyway, though. My point is that she definitely has some untapped power, so I wanted to… try getting her to tap it.”

Both of them stare at him and he shrugs.

“...how, exactly?” Blake prompts.

“Do you neeeeed me to spell it out?” The looks he receives in response get an eye roll from him. “Fine, fine. Fuck. I think you guys can put two and two together but I’ll be blunt about it. I feel like Starla could probably do necromancy at least, if not something more powerful than that, but I didn’t think she could tap into it if she wasn’t emotionally invested, so I thought, y’know, introduce her to Seamas, let her get attached, and see what she does if he dies. Which I still think isn’t the worst idea in the world, but aside from it probably breaking Mom’s rule, I do also owe him a life debt now. I mean, he only helped me because of Starla, but still. Debt’s debt.”

Blake doesn’t even have time to process all of that before Ren is speaking. His words are calm, but that’s not surprising. Ren is always calm.

“If you harm him– not even kill, Valerian, harm– I will kill you. I think Dad is just mortal enough that we can die, and we’ll find out together. If it doesn’t work, I will find a way. I’ll face Mom’s wrath over it. Are we clear?”

Valerian lets out a low whistle before grinning. “Quite the threat. Does your wolf know you’d go to bat for his kid like that?”

“Fiadh does.” He thinks she does, anyway. It was a promise to her that had made him draw the line in the first place, at least.

“And speaking of, you haven’t clarified what the plan is with her.”

“And I won’t, until you acknowledge that I will fucking end you, if you harm Seamas.”

The expression on Valerian’s face leaves Blake unsettled, too challenging, practically excited. The words don’t help. “I’d almost like to see you try.”

Blake moves just in time to stop Ren from lunging at their brother. Valerian laughs.

“Fucking relax. I got the message. And like I said, debt’s debt. Besides, I would’ve found a way to bring him back, even if Starla couldn’t do it. I like him enough for that.”

Ren is glaring daggers at him. Blake lets him go. If Valerian is going to keep pushing, he’s not going to stop it. Fuck that.

Even if it’s still a significant admission that Valerian cares enough to bring Seamas back.

Ren hisses, “They are mine, okay? And I will keep them safe from everything I can. Including you, you obnoxious little shit.”

“You know, I actually do think Starla would keep him safe from me. She’s not… violent, obviously, and she’s not Britt–” Even he knows not to fuck with Britt, even if he’s towing the line when it comes to Star. “--but I do think she’s determined and she cares enough to want to protect him. If I’m enough of a threat, I think she’d figure out how to draw that line.” He leans forward, far too curious for his own good. “Now, you wanna tell us what the fuck you’re doing with Fiadh? There are bets, Ren. We need to get them settled.”

It will never not be jarring to see how easy Valerian shifts from one emotion to the next. Ren doesn’t operate that way, still seething over the whole conversation. Even Blake at least processes emotions at a more human speed, and he’s still kind of irritated with Valerian.

“I don’t think I owe you a response to that.”

“...gods dammit. I knew I should’ve pushed you on that first.”

“You mean you knew you were going to piss him off,” Blake says flatly.

Valerian grins again. “I knew it was a possibility. But I actually wasn’t 100% certain. Hard to tell how invested Ren is.”

“Very invested.”

“And now we know. I guess we all learned something today. How fun.”

“If he wants to punch you, I’m not gonna stop him this time,” Blake warns. Valerian has more than earned it at this point.

“You’re the one who called this meeting. I think you knew how it was gonna go.”

He had known. Sort of. Like Valerian, he’s never really been sure how much Ren cares about anyone, even when he’s been living with Conri all this time. But they all know he saved Fiadh. He didn’t have to. It was enough of a curveball that Blake figured it was beyond time they had this conversation.

“Alright, well, no one wants a family bloodbath so. Valerian, don’t fucking murder Seamas. Ren, claim your fucking kid. Sound like good next steps?”

“I don’t think Seamas wants me to claim him as my kid,” Ren answers.

Both Blake and Valerian stare at him.

“...I think… I need you to elaborate on that,” Blake finally says, when it becomes clear that Ren isn’t going to say much else.

Ren shrugs. “He has two loving, functional parents. Alucard didn’t have that. I don’t think Alucard wanted to be claimed either, but… he needed someone. Seamas… doesn’t. Fiadh can do what needs to be done, but she still isn’t a Delaney. I don’t think Seamas particularly wants to be associated with the family name.”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. I need. I need a moment.” For some reason this seems to be the first thing that’s managed to actually throw Valerian for a loop. “Are you… are you seriously telling me that you haven’t claimed Seamas as family because you didn’t think he’d like it?”

“Not exclusively, but it’s not an unrelated factor in that decision.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ren. I’m not the only murder-happy member of our family. You know that. I’m just the one who got there first. What if it was someone else? What if it was someone who wasn’t playing a long game? Dude. He’d be dead.”

Ren frowns, as though this isn’t something that had crossed his mind before.

Blake needs a drink. He gives Valerian a look. “It almost sounds like you care.”

“I don’t not care. I just…” He hums, drumming his fingers against his thigh. “I don’t care in the way you care about Kenz or Bells cares about Hawk. I think maybe I care in the way Ren cares about Conri? Or maybe in the way Bells cared about you? But less… intense.”

“You do not care in the way that I care about Conri.”

“I… doubt it’s in the way Bells cared about me, either.” Because even with all the obsession, she had still actually cared. To a degree Blake wasn’t even sure Valerian was capable of.

“Maybe… maybe more in the way Chance cares about Sera, then? But even that’s… I don’t know if Chance like… sees Sera as a person, y’know? And I do see Seamas and Starla as people.”

“...do you?” Blake asks.

“Fuck. When did you get so judgy?”

“Birth. I inherited it from our parents.”

Valerian rolls his eyes. “Yes. I do see them as people. And I care just… not the way most other people care, I think. Or not to the same degree. I don’t fucking know. But you most definitely care about Seamas or you wouldn’t be threatening me over him. You don’t have to claim him as your kid to claim him as family.”

“Huh.”

That clearly hasn’t occurred to Ren before now. He’s so smart about so many things and so oblivious to others. It’s baffling to Blake.

“...okay. I’ll talk to mom about it,” he answers.

“I guess I won’t murder Seamas.”

“Harm, Valerian,” Ren repeats.

“Fine. I guess I won’t harm Seamas. Not without consent, at least.”

Ren shoots him a dark look, but he and Blake both know it’s the best they’re going to get out of their brother.

“Well, this was… not even a little fun. I need a drink. I’m gonna go see if Britt is free.”

“Snitch,” Valerian taunts.

“What makes you think I’m gonna tell her about this conversation?”

“Uh… I know you? I’m pretty sure Britt’s your favorite sibling. I think Bells was up there before… y’know, and I think she’s up there again. But I’m pretty sure Britt’s your favorite. There’s no way you don’t tell her about this.”

He shrugs. Part of him wants to not, only because he doesn’t want to have round two of this conversation with Britt and Valerian this time, but he can’t pretend he’ll actually keep it from her. He likes her too much for that. “You didn’t make any promises not to harm Starla,” he observes.

“I did not,” Valerian agrees. “But I was never planning to do that to begin with. Well, not physically. Killing Seamas might do some emotional damage, I suppose.”

“Why are you like this?” Blake wonders, shaking his head.

“I just won the genetic lottery, I guess. I’d say I’m the fun sibling, but we all know that’s Bells.”

“You’re the annoying sibling, that’s what you are.”

“My feelings are hurt.”

“You don’t have enough feelings for that to be true. Now, I’m leaving. Stop trying to push you luck and bend the no-family rules. Ren, go fucking talk to mom before you convince yourself not to.”

Blake doesn’t wait for Ren or Valerian to leave first before vanishing. If they want to go at each other after all of that, he isn’t going to stop them. Just like he isn’t going to stop Britt if she feels the same way as Ren. But if he’s being honest? He’s a little proud of Ren and, if Valerian were fucking with different people, he’d be impressed by the scheme, if nothing else.