#hackles raised growling

[floofymeow]

no one speak to me i am in MOURNING. curled up on the floor fetal position rocking back and forth whispering "it'll be ok" BUT ITS NOT OK. IM NOT OK i NEED TO CONSUME MORE MEDIA

god bless the those who contribute to this cause i hope i know you are SEEN and i am blessing you every night for the good deeds you bring to this temporary mortal plane

[purposefully-lost]

Gabe being from a different bloodline/turned by someone other than Vic? I'm saying,,, Charlie should get some weird attributes 🤔

👀👀👀

[cowboyhorsegirl]

Capwolf like gently biting and holding on Tony’s hand while he’s stuck shifted because he can’t hold hands like this (and NOT because he like the way Tony tastes and it’s only a matter of time before he gets eaten CLINT)

(Maybe it’s a little about the taste tho, but not for eating. Capwolf is naughty)

Anon this is the cutest goddamn thing I have ever had the pleasure of reading!!!! I love how SteveTony granted us canonical monsterfucking, truly the ship that keeps on giving 🥰

[gelertrook]

gotta figure out how to give off less 'emotional support golden retriever' and more 'neglect-case rescue wolfdog that shouldn't be approached except for by his handler'

[cerberivs]

tags dump;;*

[wellthatschaotic]

there was fuckign,, cops at chipotle

[theood]

Divorce him jokes are funny until it's about MY fiancé

[muckpit]

will graham little doggy man

[charliemwrites]

As promised some time ago: Gaz!

The new house is… well, you don’t dislike it. It’s beautiful, already renovated while you were busy selling the old house. Just new, unfamiliar. You’re unaccustomed to the noises it makes, the shadows it casts, the echoes off the walls.

You’re not too proud to admit (to yourself and your dogs) that you’re a bit of a chicken the first couple weeks. Too many nights watching spooky media about people living in walls or stalking new tenants — despite Skipper’s best efforts. So you keep one or more of the dogs with you at all times, fingers in their fur and lights on as you go. Ghost has been especially tolerant, leaning against your leg when the sun goes down and the house feels too strange.

You’ve always been grateful for the peace of mind that four huge wolf-dogs brings, but never more than now. With several sets of teeth surrounding your bed and guarding your locked doors, they’ve made the transition so much easier on your nerves.

The new forest behind the house is also some cause for concern. The first day you brought them home, you went out by yourself for quick inspection of the yard and immediate area. Sharp-eyed looking for glass, metal, or anything else dubious.

You came back to four extremely grumpy pups and were basically bullied out of leaving them alone again. Skipper was especially huffy that night.

But things feel like they’re beginning to settle. You’ve gotten a bigger couch, bigger floor cushions. There’s a second story to this new house — or more of a half-floor really. A loft? It consists of the master bedroom, master bathroom, and a sort of open-spaced landing that you’re using as a satellite collection zone for toys.

Sometimes, when you’re on the couch, you’ll catch a bit of movement and get spooked by one of the boys staring from the railing that overlooks the den. Have fussed at wagging Johnny twice now for it.

Still, the transition to your new home has been as smooth as you could ask for with four giant, protective dogs. You miss the old place a bit; have the irrational fear that you’re going to miss another displaced dog in need of a home, but you try not to think about it.

Maybe you should have thought about it a little more.

One evening, you let the boys out for their pre-bed potty. There’s a cup of chamomile tea in your hand, a blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders. Winter will be setting in soon. It’s already cold enough to set your teeth on edge. Never mind that it’s been raining all day, only just letting up to light patter at sunset.

Commotion at the edge of the (much larger) yard catches your attention. All of your boys seem to be gathered around something. They’re not barking or growling, and from the dim porch light, you don’t see hackles raised but still. Anything that catches their attention is worth investigating.

Cursing under your breath, you set your mug aside, slip into some shoes, and snatch up your phone for the flashlight. It’s only when you’re halfway there that you remember to pray that it’s not something dead. Or dying. Or creepy.

“Please don’t let this be a spooky doll or something,” you whisper to yourself.

Skipper must hear you, because his head pops up. He doesn’t… look concerned. But he’s a dog, how would he know that something in the yard is of human concern?

He trots away from their little congregation to meet you, almost like he’s escorting you to whatever they’re gathered around. You realize why when the flashlight illuminates a ball of soaked fur.

“Oh,” you breathe, “oh no…”

You gently nudge Konig aside to kneel down, a dry sob bubbling up in the back of your throat when you hear a quiet, miserable mew. A pair of brilliant green eyes squint and shy from the light, wide and sad.

“Oh, baby,” you coo. “Please come here. C’mon.”

You slowly, carefully extend a hand. Palm up, just a couple fingers. You’re not as familiar with cats anymore, but you remember enough to know that there‘ll be no scooping it up, even if it needs help. It’ll have to come to you of its own accord.

Relief floods you when you get the briefest cursory sniffle, and then the kitty is bumping its head against your hand for a scritch. You take a moment to pet what you can, heart breaking a bit with each shiver in the cold.

You keep coaxing it closer, gentle words and patient petting, getting bolder with your touch. When it’s finally close enough, the faintest purr rattling in its chest, you decide to try.

Apart from a nervous glance, the cat remarkably tolerant about letting you wrap your now-wet blanket around it, then scooping it up.

“Oof, you’re a big kid, huh?” You mutter, pausing to get a better hold. The darkness and hunkering down to preserve body heat was deceptive. This cat feels huge. “That’s alright, I’m used to it.”

You breathe a huge sigh when you enter the house again. It’s toasty inside — or at least it feels that way after sitting in the cold rain for fifteen minutes.

The boys files in after you, politely shaking off at the door before stepping into the mudroom. (Another upgrade you’ve been extremely grateful for.

You pause, try to get your bearings. You’ve got four soaked dogs, one possibly hypothermic cat, and you.

Christ, sometimes you wish you had an extra pair of hands.

“Okay. Let’s get the heater first.”

It’s already going, so you just turn it up a bit more, warm enough to start drying everyone. Then you go to the cupboard, sparing an arm from your oversized bundle to extract a towel.

You cross back to the heater and sit down, gently nestling your cat-burrito into the well of your legs.

The same big green eyes blink up at you, another mewl comes from it.

“Hi,” you croon, “isn’t that better already? Much warmer in here.”

You present the towel for inspection, let it sniff and decide it’s non-threatening before gently wiping it along the clumped fur. The dogs, to your surprise, don’t crowd to investigate. Skipper stops by to give the cat a sniff, before ultimately flopping down against your hip. But the other three arrange themselves around you, watching, but giving you and the kitty some space.

Remarkably thoughtful of them, and you tell them as much, praising their good behavior. The kitty, in the meantime, just… stares. It’s been a long time since you interacted with one, but you don’t remember your grandma’s tabby being so…

“Can I help you, little one?” You ask, grinning when it blinks at you slowly. You brush a finger under its chin, grinning when its eyes go half-lidded and nearly cross. “You’re worse than my Johnny boy with the staring.”

You receive a huff for that and laugh softly, making kissy noises at him until his tail thumps against the absorbent floor mat.

The cat is back to staring, though, ears up. You hum and keep up the half-scratching, half-drying technique until its fur starts to fluff up and you can take proper stock of the animal you’ve just rescued.

You weren’t kidding about it being big. Biggest cat you’ve ever seen — you’d almost think it was wild if not for the sweet face. You’re sure you might have seen the breed somewhere before…

Maine coon, maybe? Or… Siberian something or other? It’s fluffy, that’s for sure. But even without all the fluff that’s beginning to poof out like a dirty cotton ball, it’s a big cat. Big enough to be an average dog.

You huff in amusement that more it dries out.

“You look like a little storm cloud,” you giggle. “Well, little being relative.”

You receive a more normal-sounding meow for that. It thrills you that it’s already sounding better. Less sad, for sure.

The purring even start up again, developing into a deep hum like a running motor. It’s instantly soothing, the same way listening to the dogs’ breathing is. It lulls you until you’re nearly dozing sitting up. Only the wet nose of Skipper against your cheek rousing you.

“Jesus, right,” you say, jolting. Take a drowsy look around. All the boys seem dry or mostly dry. The only damp spot left on your new feline friend seems to be the feet, which won’t take much longer. “Let’s get inside proper.”

You lock up the mudroom and turn the heater low again, then urge everyone into the den. The cat doesn’t even hesitate, threading cleverly between your moving legs as you shuffle to the kitchen.

You prep an extra bowl of food and leave it up for the cat where the dogs can’t get it. Give it one last stroke from head to tail before trudging for the bathroom.

Normally, you’d be more concerned about leaving a cat in a house full of dogs. But the boys proved already that they have no interest in hurting the cat, despite the earlier crowding. Figure there are plenty of places to hide if they do make the kitty uncomfortable regardless.

The hot shower only serves to thicken the drowsiness blanketing you, leaving you heavy-lidded and sluggish. You pull the curtain aside to the usual audience of huge eyes, a new pair among them — the cat perched on the bathroom sink.

When you lean to grab your towel, they stick their face close for a sniff and you pause, always patient for curious creatures. When the little nose gets too close to your mouth, you twist and drop a quick peck to its snout before leaning back. The flabbergasted look makes you laugh as you begin toweling off.

“What a funny little thing you are,” you coo. “Would you like to be mind.”

“Mrrrow!”

“Yeah, I made a good first showing, huh?”

You have absolutely zero supplies for a cat, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. Right now, you just want to climb into bed and conk out. Home-making and animal-saving takes a lot out of you.

As always, the furry procession to your room leaves you warm and happy. Johnny always the first to hop into bed, licking your shoulder when you climb in beside him. Konig takes your other side, much more willing to snuggle now that you have the California King mattress to accommodate your pack. Ghost licks at Skipper’s chin in the doorway, then jumps up to lie by your hip, cuddling Johnny.

Skipper comes up last, padding over to receive one last kiss from you before lying by your feet, on the side closest to the door. You’re less concerned about kicking him now with the extra room, and enjoy the heat for your toes.

You almost startle at the soft thump next to your head. Turn and blink to see big green eyes blinking down at you, a purr nearly rattling your brain.

“Oh, hi,” you murmur, “make yourself at home.”

The cat does just that, curling himself onto a pillow and pressing his forehead into your neck. You nearly melt as you flick off the light. It’s warm and quiet and dark, just the breathing of warm bodies and soft tap of rain.

“I love you all so much,” you whisper, fingers threading into Konig’s coat. “My loves.”

The house’s new echoes are still unfamiliar, so it’s just a product of being half-asleep that makes you think you hear voices in the middle of the night.

Main Story | Price pt. 2

Masterlist

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

hey! i just had a request (if you like it!) - cazador taking astarion’s partner (reader/tav) when all the siblings try to kidnap astarion, and turning them, intending for them to take astarion’s place - ofc astarion and crew arrive in time and scene progresses as normal, but now reader/tav is a vampire spawn. just fluff and hurt/comfort

Oh wow this became far darker than intended, I hope you don't mind. I do feel a little bad for reader in this one, honestly. Part 2 can be found here!

Spoilers for act 3!! If anyone still needs this.

Astarion’s shout stirs you from your peaceful slumber and you sit up with a start, eyes wide. Your hand automatically shoots to your weapon, fingers curling around it when you see two figures slowly approaching your lover who back away, hackles raised.

“Peace, brother. We’re here to take you home.” One says and you frown, ready to step in if needed. The other one urges Astarion to return with them, to ‘be reborn’ and you quickly make your way to Astarion’s side, ready to fight if need be. You didn’t care that those two were vampire spawn, you would defend Astarion with everything you had. You weren’t going to lose him now, not after coming all this way.

Astarion’s hand gently brushes against yours, a silent thank you for your show of support as you size your potential opponents up. With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Astarion moves to step slightly in front of you and begins to tell his siblings of his plan to take Cazador’s place in the ritual, to ascend and his siblings are none the wiser about the lies he’s weaving.

You know how desperately he wants the ritual, how he yearns for the power it will give him and yet you’re torn between convincing him otherwise and letting him take it. You don’t want to see him drown in the pursuit of this power but you know how much it means to him, the idea of being able to walk in the sun again, the idea of no longer being under someone else’s control, so you keep silent, your mind in turmoil.

Either way, the encounter ends with Cazador taking control of the spawns and it delves into a fight as Astarion does all he can to protect himself and you do all you can to ensure neither spawn manage to lay a hand on him. By the end of it, you’re panting from exhaustion, scratches lacing your skin but the two spawns have been backed into a corner and you have emerged victorious alongside Astarion.

Or so you think.

Suddenly, a chill runs down your spine and mist turns into a humanoid figure with glowing red eyes. Astarion’s eyes widen and he takes an instinctive step back. The two spawn cower as a sneer forms on the humanoid’s face, a clawed hand reaching out towards you.

“Y/N I presume? I have heard much about you, it is an honour to finally meet you.”

Cazador.

You swallow hard, refusing to show the vampire lord a hint of fear and meet his burning gaze that stares into your very soul.

“Cazador,” you say, tone measured. “If only I could say the same.”

Why was he here? Was he going to forcefully take Astarion away? If he was, you were pretty much powerless to stop him by yourself and he would be able to start the ritual. You keep your eyes fixed on the vampire lord who is smiling unnervingly, standing your ground as he takes a step towards you.

“Thank you for taking care of my precious lost son,” he places a hand on your shoulder which you brush off, glowering at him. He remains unfazed despite your rude gesture, the smile still fixed on his face.

“You’re very welcome,” you say stiffly, still uncertain about what Cazador was here for. He hadn’t spared a glance at Astarion at all, which was odd and the other two spawn hadn’t made a single move to kidnap Astarion, even though now was the best time to do so.

“In return, I would like him back so that he may return home.”

“No.” You immediately growl without a second thought. “I will not let you lay a hand on Astarion again.”

“How courageous of you,” the vampire lord chuckles. “To think that my son has found someone like you…to guide him back. I really am extremely grateful to you.”

Astarion makes a noise, ignoring the shaking in his hands and moves to stand next to you. He can’t leave you to face Cazador alone, not after he’s promised to always be by your side and so despite the nauseating fear that is rising in his throat, he forces himself to face his tormentor.

“Now then, my boy” Cazador continues, gaze finally turning towards him. “I will give you a choice. You, or your precious Y/N.”

“What?” Astarion narrows his eyes.

“Choose. You, or Y/N.” Cazador repeats.

“What do you intend to do?” Astarion snarls. Cazador doesn’t answer his question and simply raises three fingers, slowly counting down. Confused, Astarion opens and closes his mouth, unsure of the consequence each choice will spell and a wide grin forms on the vampire lord’s face once the last finger is down.

“Time’s up, my boy. I suppose, I will have to make the choice for you since you cannot make up your mind.” Cazador places a hand on your shoulder. “Say goodbye to your precious Y/N.”

Astarion takes a step towards you, your name on the tip of his tongue but he is too late, slowed by the tadpole and Cazador whisks you away along with the other two spawns, back to his palace.

“No, no, no!” Astarion roars, hand grasping thin air. “Cazador!”

The others come running over at the commotion, confused when they see Astarion on his knees, sobbing and cursing.

“What happened?” Halsin asks, kneeling next to the wailing vampire.

“Cazador!” Astarion snarls through the tears. “He took Y/N!”

“He took Y/N? Aren’t you the one he’s after? Why did he take them?” Wyll asks.

“Didn’t you say you’d protect them? Why didn’t you?” Lae’zel snaps. Astarion whirls around, ready to tear Lae’zel apart but Halsin holds him back, the vampire thrashing in his grip.

“Calm down, Astarion. We won’t get anywhere fighting amongst ourselves. Do you have an idea of where Cazador might have taken Y/N?” Halsin’s low voice gently rumbles.

“His damned palace, probably,” Astarion mutters, guilt tearing away at him. He should have given Cazador an answer, he should have been stronger and pressed Cazador for answers, he should have pulled you away from Cazador the moment the vampire lord had placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Then we will head there immediately,” Jaheria smoothly takes command and the other nod in agreement. The longer you were with Cazador, the dimmer your prospects, for who knew what Cazador wanted with you? Time was of the essence.

“We will get Y/N back,” Gale said firmly. “We will rescue them.”

At Cazador’s palace, you were held in place by blood red glyphs as Cazador circled you, ruby eyes glowing in the darkness.

“You are a fascinating creature, Y/N. Time and time again, I’ve taught my imperfect son not to form a relationship, that such bonds are a weakness he cannot afford, and yet he still chooses to form a bond with you. He knew of the consequences that would follow, and still decided to proceed. I wonder what about you makes him decide to risk it all.”

You remain silent, glaring as hard as you can at him. He leans in closer, a cold finger traces along your jawline and stop at your chin.

“Is it because of how much you make him think you care for him?”

“I genuinely care for him, unlike you!” You spit, jerking away from his touch.

“Or maybe your looks.” He pretends to contemplate before tightly grabbing you by the chin and pulling you towards him.

“No…that can’t be it.” He smirks. “Oh, I know. It’s the delectable taste of your blood, isn’t it? I can see the bite marks, he clearly loves drinking from you.”

“Piss off!” You snarl despite the fear creeping into your chest. “Whatever goes on between Astarion and I is none of your concern!”

“Oh, but it is. He is, after all, my son.” Cazador leans even closer, pressing his lips against the bite marks on your neck. “And you too, will become my child.”

His fangs sink into the soft supple flesh of your neck, painful and harsh unlike Astarion’s bite and you hiss, struggling to get away but the glyphs hold you tight. Your heart thunders, blood rushing in your ears as you snarl, spit and thrash as hard as you can but his fangs remain firmly lodged in your neck, your precious lifeblood gushing down his throat. Spots start to form in your vision and you feel yourself weakening, life fading away.

“Oh, don’t worry.,” you barely hear him as the world starts to turn black. “I don’t kill my own children.”

When you wake, everything is dark, but something feels different. Your sense of smell is sharper, you can see the lines of wood in the dark and…

“Welcome back, my child.” The sound of wood scraping rakes your ears and you quickly cover them, hissing.

“How are you feeling?” Cazador smiles, setting something down before turning to you, holding out a hand.

“Get lost!” You slap his hand away, trying to take in your surroundings. You’re in some sort of underground area, judging from the leaking ceiling and the musty smell in the air. The tiny squeaks of rats fill your ears and you notice chains hanging from the wall in front of you, covered in dried blood.

“How rude. It seems the first thing I must teach you is manners,” Cazador tuts. “Repeat after me, ‘I am fine, thank you for asking, master.’”

“Go —” A presence dominates your mind, sending your tadpole squirming as it tries to take back your mind. You scream, the tadpole’s fight tearing your mind apart and you hear Cazador snarl in frustration.

“That blasted thing!”

He looks back up at you, a smile slowly reforming itself upon his face. “Still, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to have complete control over you for my plan to work. All I need is you.”

“What do you intend to do?” You pant, head throbbing.

“Why, have you take that boy’s place in the ritual of course. He chose to sacrifice you instead of himself. Now come along, I would rather not have to drag you out in front of your new siblings.”

You quietly follow him, mind still struggling to wrap around recent events. One moment you were trying to find Gortash and Orin to prevent The Absolute from taking over Baldur’s Gate, and then next you were Cazador’s latest vampire spawn, a sacrifice for his ascension. Cazador didn’t seem to mind your silence, tightly holding onto your hand to ensure you couldn’t just run away, not that he would have much of a problem catching you anyways.

He leads you to a grand hall where a pentagram has already been drawn with blood in the center of the floor and seven pedestals surround it. His other vampire spawn each stand on one, waiting for further instructions and you glance around nervously. Would the others be able to find this place before it was too late?

Cazador unsheathes a dagger, snapping his fingers and glyphs appear around your wrists and ankles once more, forcing you to kneel on the ground in front of him. He slices your clothes open, tossing them away until you’re half naked and bends down next to you.

“I believe you know what comes next.”

Bile rises in your throat, your clawed fingertips digging into your palm as you prepare yourself.

“Go rot in the hells.”

He laughs, knowing that all you can do is spit words at him and raises the dagger with a sadistic grin.

Then plunges it straight into your back.

The pain tears you apart from the inside, gnawing at every fibre of your being as you keenly feel each and every sinew being split open by the dagger, warm blood coating your back. You can hear screaming, was it coming from you? You couldn’t tell, your mind was far too hazy to make anything out.

Everything hurts, everything hurts, everything hurts.

You scream until your voice turns hoarse, but Cazador doesn’t stop. He continues with his work of art, twisting the dagger whilst its blade is embedded in your flesh whenever you collapse, shocking you back into reality. Over and over again he marks your flesh with Infernal script and you wonder how Astarion pulled through this.

Suddenly, the dagger stops. Cazador shouts something but your ringing ears can’t make out anything. Something red slams into the vampire lord and sends him crashing into the floor with a war cry, followed by an axe.

The glyphs holding you up disappear and you feel yourself falling, but not an inch of your body obeys your command to break your fall. Before the floor can meet you, a pair of warm arms wraps around you, holding you steady.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

You stare blankly at the floor beneath, wishing it had ended your suffering but then you remember that you’re a vampire spawn now and simply smacking into the floor wouldn’t kill you.

“Y/N? Talk to me,” the voice speaks again. Your swimming vision barely manages to scrape together an image and through the haze your mind recalls a name. Wyll.

A small noise escapes your lips and the Blade of Frontiers lets out a sigh of relief.

“You’re alive, that’s good.”

“No,” you whisper. “Not. Alive.”

“Not in that sense,” someone else speaks. Halsin.

Something new warms your back, blue light shimmering around you, “don’t you dare fall asleep.” Shadowheart.

“As…”

An angry cry pierces through the air. More shouting. Then. Silence. A figure rushes to your side, silvery curls stained with blood.

“Y/N!” There’s panic in the voice. “Darling?”

“As…ta…rion.”

“You’re safe now,” he pulls you into a hug. “You’re safe now.”

“Hurt…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Astarion chokes. “I’m sorry I let that monster take you, I’m sorry I let you get hurt, I’m sorry I was late.”

His apologies are met with silence, your body limp in his arms as you struggle to stay awake. You want to reassure him, you want to say something but your body refuses to cooperate.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “It’s my fault that you were taken, I promised to protect you and yet, and yet I —”

“It…s…ok.”

“It’s not!” He snaps. “It’s not ok! Nothing is! I let Cazador take you! I let him turn you! Now…now you can’t walk in the sun anymore! Not once that damned tadpole is removed! You’ll constantly feel the hunger! Others will call you a monster!”

Astarion stops when he sees the fresh tear streaks on your face, biting his lip hard. You come first, you need him right now. He pushes his self-hatred away and focuses on you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tightly, ignoring the blood that seeps between his fingers. He presses his lips against the top of your head as your shoulders shake.

“I’m right here, my love. I’m right here. I promise, you’re never alone. You will never be alone. I will be right here, by your side to help you shoulder your burdens as you’ve helped me. I promise.”

[regal-bones]

SWORDTEMBER DAY 19 : ALCHEMIST

The Alchemist’s Last Laugh , of tempered glass and folded smoke 🧪☁️ “Your hands were sweating. What did they say, what did they say? You racked your mind for the conversation you had with The Alchemist just a few days earlier. You were so distracted at the time - their many eyes, the way they moved in a scuttle of fingers and arms under beautiful fabric. They had told you about each of their potions, was it this one? You pulled out a thin blue bottle from your bag - no, no this was a fireproofing one. At the edge of the trees, the shadows stepped closer, a low growling, the flash of moonlight on teeth. This one? It was a spiral shaped bottle, with a pale purple liquid. You remembered The Alchemists laugh as they told you about the purple liquid, like brittle bones, or dominoes knocking each other down. But what did it do? No time to risk it. You saw a clawed paw step forward into the glade, a snarling maw and raised hackles, your heart sunk in your chest. You reached one more time into your bag, and brought out a fat, green bottle. It was filled with a rich, green fluid, and swirling patterns were curved into the glass. You heard The Alchemist’s laugh again in the back of your mind, and found yourself smiling. You remember clearly what they had said about this bottle. ‘Don’t drink this one.’”

This is a sister sword to The Alchemists Last Resort from last year! It was one of my least faves, and I wanted to give it another go! Happy with how it turned out :3

Yesterday’s sword!

You can support me on Patreon for £1 and help me make stuff like this!

[babygorewhore]

10 things I hate about you series.

Part two

You and Logan locate the rumored dangerous mutant at a night club. And everything goes to hell when he finally sees your powers.

Read part one here.

Warnings! Violence! Blood! Mild angst! No smut yet! Age gap! Reader is late 20s and Logan is late 40s. Slow burn and enemies (?) to lovers. Barely proofread.

“Don’t fucking embarrass me. This is meant to be quick and efficient. In and out.” Logan grunted as you both stepped into the club. Your fingers clutched the inside of his elbow, his dark brown leather jacket crinkling from the pressure as you both walked.

The neon lights, smell of smoke and loud music thumped as you winced from the crowd. Logan bared his teeth at someone who stepped too close and you reached up and smacked him upside the head.

“Stop snarling at people. We’re trying to blend in.” You hissed at him before forcing a charming smile at the server who guided you both to a nearby booth.

“It’s not my fault people don’t know how fucking walk.” He rolled his eyes and plopped down. You sat close with him and he raised an eyebrow.

“Can I get you two started on water along with your drinks?” The waitress asked and you opened your mouth but Logan cut you off.

“Whiskey and apple juice for her.” You stomp his foot with your heeled shoe and clear your throat.

“I’ll have a Long Island iced tea. Thank you.” She walks away and Logan scoffs.

“Figures. You like those pussy little mixed drinks.” You pinch his forearm and he growls, jerking his arm away.

“Stop being a brat!”

“Then stop being an asshole! We’re supposed to be madly in love and married for thirty five years with four sweet beautiful hairy children.”

“In your wildest dreams, girl.” He dug into his pocket to look for a cigar and apparently gave up after a few seconds.

“So, is anyone setting off alarm bells?” You asked him and folded your arms. Your curve hugging red dress was above the knee and you had black heels on. Jewelry gifted by your grandmother years ago hung above your heart and dangled around your wrist.

“Everyone sets off my alarm bells. I don’t trust anyone.”

“Me either. And we don’t even know if this mutant can shape-shift.” You added with a huff. You tilt your head in curiosity when you notice a man lingering in the corner. He seemed…off.

“Yeah, I’ve been eyeing him the whole time.” Logan seemed to read your mind without looking in his direction and you glanced at him. You blink mascara lashes at him. “Then why are we sitting here?”

“Because I don’t want to give away anything yet. You’re free to go sit in the car.” Logan sighed and leaned back against the booth. The waitress came and set both drinks down.

“Thank you,” You both told her as she walked away. You took a sip of your drink as Logan chugged his whiskey in one gulp.

“You ever been on one of these before?” He grunted and you toy with the rings on your fingers.

“Once. With Bobby.” Your hackles raise when he grumbles.

“Mmm yeah. With your little boyfriend. Figures.” You grip your glass harder.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Logan gives you a smirk. Facial hair smoothed over and he adjusts his button down shirt.

“Yeah? Fucker looks at you like a meal when you’re together.”

“And you’re paying attention to how someone looks at me, why?” You counteract and Logan stiffens.

“Forget it. Now, it makes sense why you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Why are you such a fucking dick, Logan? I’ve done nothing to you.” You gritted your teeth, the lingering crush in the background for him as he pushed your buttons.

“I don’t like inexperienced mutants going on missions. Peoples lives are at stake and I don’t want to be responsible for some kid.” He glared, green eyes burning and you leaned in close.

“First of all, I’m not a kid. Second of all, I had a whole life before I showed up at the school. And third, if Professor X didn’t believe I could do this, he wouldn’t have sent me with you.” Logan meets your venom and his nostrils flare.

“Maybe he made a mistake. You haven’t even noticed our guy over there, he’s walking this way. He’s been eye fucking you this whole time. And I don’t like the looks of him.” Instead of raking him across the coals, you plaster on a seductive look when the stranger approaches you.

His entire demeanor is dangerous. You see a long thick knife buried in his pocket. His sharp jaw was clenched and his thin mouth reminded you of a birds beak. It was a complete trap and you felt Logan brace for any sort of battle.

“How about you walk me to the stage?” Logan jerks his head at you with wide eyes as you decide to drink the rest of your alcohol and take the other man’s hand.

“The fuck are you doing?” He whispered and you gave him a look that expressed, ‘Trust me’

“Anything for you, Angel. Doesn’t look like he’s showing you a good time.” You accept his hand and follow him to the middle of the building where people surround the empty stage.

There was a pole but no one was using it. The DJ removed his headset as you climbed up the stairs.

“Hey, looks like we got ourselves a performer tonight! Pick a song, gorgeous! Get everyone started!”

Logan was staring at you with a horrified expression as you curtsied and waved to the people. The man stood by closely, no doubt looking for the exits but he was falling in line perfectly with your last minute plan.

You pick out the song and the intro begins to play. Porn Star Dancing begins to echo and you slowly begin to dance along after making up your own choreography. Your past of gymnastics played a role in your flexibility as you roll your hips before kicking your leg up around the pole and spin.

The party goers soon start chanting the chorus to cheer you on as you climb the pole to the top, your knees locking around the metal and you hold yourself up. You briefly catch Logan pinching his nose in the corner before you slide down and fall to the ground in the splits.

You even surprised yourself with that one considering you hadn’t done it in a decade. You grinned, smiled and waved. The stranger was clapping slowly before he cracked his neck.

“Oh shit.” You felt the impact before you heard it.

The stranger flicked his hand and flames came out in a fury. A fucking pyro. Screaming started as he blasted a tunnel of fire towards the bar and Logan charged towards him with a roar.

The fire mixing with the alcohol, people were screaming and chaos erupted as small explosions brightened the entire building. Your nose burned from the smell of smoke and blood but your focus became razor sharp. Your mind seized the bodies, your hand extending and fingers curling in a fist.

Everyone stopped and hovered. It was painful, the weight burning your muscles and your head throbbed from using so much force but you made yourself remain still.

But Logan was too strong or too adaptable due to his regeneration ability as he broke free of your hold and sunk his claws deep into the belly of the pyro.

The flames were too intense for most people to see the brutality as Logan retracted the claws. Blood soaked the shining material as the other mutants fell to the ground in a heap.

You released the grip you had on everyone, your ability to also read mind came into play as you guided a female to go dial the police.

Logan’s fierce expression locked on you as he panted and kicked the body to the side. “Get everyone the fuck out of here!” He bellowed at the bouncers who weren’t fast enough to react.

You both were silent as you walked to the car hours later. The club was burned but not beyond repair. Ambulances took the injured and removed the body of the mutant. You didn’t dare speak before Logan as you carried your heels and tried to keep up with him.

You opened the passenger door and climbed in. Logan came into the driver side, slamming it so hard you flinched and feared it would crumble.

“You are a fucking telekinetic telepath.” His voice was so low you almost didn’t hear him.

The unspoken part was that it was the same ability as Jean.

“And you didn’t tell me that plan. You just decided to act on your own. And got people hurt.”

Shame ate away at you as you kept quiet.

“You should have just gone back here and let me handle it.” Logan’s temper was flaring.

“So it’s fine for you to do things your way, alone, but I can’t? Got it.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’re doing!” He yelled but you spun around in the passenger seat.

“Yes I fucking do! He would have killed someone if he got them alone! I got him in front of everyone and then he just randomly got brave!”

“Why didn’t you just use your powers in the first place?” Logan’s volume lowered but you couldn’t answer him honestly.

You couldn’t tell him that you kept your ability from him because you knew it would only remind him of the woman he loved. You couldn’t tell him that deep down, you didn’t want to hurt him but he was right.

You fucked up.

“I’m sorry.” You answered quietly and he sniffed.

“We’re going the fuck back and you better have a hell of a better explanation than that.” He went to start the car.

And it didn’t.

Logan rested his forehead on the wheel, trembling with rage and you reached forward. You could try to fix it but he shook his head. “Don’t bother. You’re too drained. Looks like we’re walking or finding a bus or whatever the fuck is around in this god forsaken place. And hopefully your fucking ADHD doesn’t kick in tonight.” Your jaw dropped as he exited the car.

You flew out of the car and trailed after him with bare feet. “First of all, I didn’t have time to grab my medication before we left and how did you even know I had it?” Logan rolled his eyes as his quick pace led you both down the empty road.

“You don’t have to. Be quiet so I can think about finding a ride or staying somewhere. Jesus Christ, where the hell are your shoes?” He stopped short and you scoffed.

“I left my bag at the motel.”

He rubbed his face with both hands. Logan set his hands on his waist briefly before he suddenly hauled you over his shoulder. You squealed and kicked as he started walking again.

“What the hell? I don’t even need shoes!”

“Diseases are real and you have to be alive in order to explain yourself to Charles.” He drawled dryly. His hard muscle dug into your stomach.

“You cannot possibly carry me for long.”

“I have fucking super strength, girl. And besides, I’m tired of slowing down for you.”

You both soon found a bus stop as Logan effortlessly carried you. He put you down as you both settled into the seats of the empty ride. Sleepiness was overtaking you and your eyes shut slowly. What you didn’t realize was that you had started to fall asleep on Logan’s arm.

And he didn’t move you off.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

I couldn’t remember who all to tag but I’m tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @marchsfreakshow @starkeysprincess @taintandviolent @nemesyaaa

[undercoveravenger]

The Haunted House

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Male!Reader:

Requested: Yes

Request: “getting dared to go into the shrieking shack on Halloween (wow, a full moon on Halloween? How weird...) and finding a big scary werewolf waiting for you. Except he's really not all that scary, he just won't let you leave because Remus really likes you and his wolf form can't quite say that, just wants to keep you there.”

A/N: This is post number 4 for the 2023 Spooky Month event. Y’alls trick or treat is coming next Tuesday, October 31st. Hope you’re ready.

-----

The Shrieking Shack had well earned its name throughout the years you’d been at Hogwarts, with guttural screams and groans echoing from it each month around the time of the full moon. You’d heard dozens of different stories- ghosts, ghouls, poltergeists like Peeves. Someone from your Transfiguration class even thought it was some long-abandoned merfolk in a tank that’d grown too small.

Whatever it was though, you were going to find out.  The lot of you had had to sneak out of your commonrooms and were nearly caught by patrolling professors or prefects a couple times, but now here you are with your friends crowding around behind you clamoring encouragingly, you stand just past the fence separating the Shrieking Shack from the rest of Hogsmeade. The full moon looms ominously just over the ramshackle eaves of the decrepit building, providing just enough light for you to pick your way through the snowy yard and up to the front door.

A mumbled spell is enough to break away the locks and rotting boards holding the door closed and you’re able to force it open the rest of the way with a forceful shove. You only allow yourself one fleeting glance over your shoulder at your friends before making your way into the house and closing the door behind you, resolved to completing your friends’ dare and staying the night in the haunted house.

The floorboards creak with every step you take, wavering slightly under your shoes as your weight puts pressure on long-damaged planks as you make your way deeper into the house, each room revealing deep gashes carved into the walls and floors. Tattered strips of fabric from what might have been blankets or clothes are strewn about, stained a dark rust color in places from what you can only assume is blood. Some rooms even have shards of what would have once been furniture, a splintered chunk of wood that may have once been the arm of a couch tossed thoughtlessly against one wall of a ruined living room and the stuffing from a gutted chair cushion decorating an old bedroom, but no matter how many torn apart rooms you explore, you aren’t been able to find the source of the screams.

It finds you.

You’d wandered into what you think was once-upon-a-time a study, an ancient oak desk sitting on two broken legs in the middle of the room and its chair upturned nearby. The contents of the desk had proven uninteresting by the time you’d dug through the second desk drawer and you’ve gotten to the point of boredom that you’re considering just leaving altogether when you see it standing in the doorway. You’re not sure how long it had been watching you, but it stands, still as a shadow, with pitch dark eyes locked squarely on you.

You can see the beast’s raised hackles over the top of its head, lowered so it can fix you with a brutal stare, and a growl so low it rumbles through you like thunder fills the room as it takes a looming step closer. As it creeps forward, a brush of moonlight from the cracked window pane behind you catches it, giving you just enough light to make out further details of the creature.

At first glance, you might’ve thought it was just a wolf, but the longer you look the more your situation begins to sink in. The creature before you was nearly double the size of any wolf you’d ever heard of, back easily brushing the doorknob as it stalks into the room. Its legs are long and its paws splay when it walks like they’re not quite right, but the real telling point are its eyes. It doesn’t look away from you as it approaches, not even for a second, weaving through discarded furniture and debris like it was second nature until it stands just on the other side of the desk from you. It doesn’t look like it’s questioning whether you’re a threat like any other wild animal would, and the growl has started to subside now that it’s gotten a good look at you. The look in its eyes, while certainly somewhat wild, is too human to be anything else.

You’re not quite sure what to do at this point, not with a massive werewolf between you and the door, but being in a werewolf’s den during the full moon certainly can’t be a good idea. With that in mind you begin to move, edging slowly around the corner of the desk in order to not spook the wolf, already surprised by its calm demeanor and unwilling to test its good graces. The wolf allows you to pass by it and slip from the room, though you can hear the heavy footfalls of its paws as it follows you. You move back toward the front door, intent on leaving the same way you’d come, but you’re stopped by the massive wolf letting out another thunderous growl and shoving its way between you and the door. It bullies you on with more furious growls and pointed nips to your heels and hands, further into the house and up a narrow back staircase into a near demolished bedroom.

You obey when it gives you a pointed glare, settling down against the wall opposite the door. A satisfied huff escapes the wolf and it pads after you, flopping carelessly down to lay beside you and resting its large head heavily on your lap. The reason behind the werewolf’s behavior was confusing, certainly, but werewolves had been known to be territorial and prone to violence from what you’d heard, so if sitting here for a few hours while you waited for the wolf to shift back meant it’d keep you safe, then that was a small price to pay. 

-----

It’s not the watery morning light that wakes you, but the shift against you. The aching, tortured gasp of pain that escapes as the person curled against you moves. The sound has you on high alert straightening against your back’s own cry of pain from sleeping sitting up all night, eyes blinking open blearily and finding the now-human werewolf trying to shift away from you.

It takes you a moment to recognize him without his signature posse of idiots and the bright red Gryffindor robes, but you are able to place the jagged pink scars across his face and his curly brown hair from some of your shared classes - Remus Lupin. 

“Remus?” His name escapes you before you can stop yourself from speaking and you can see the way the tension takes root in him, joints and muscles coiling under his skin like he was preparing himself to run from some threat.

He seems to have to force himself to settle before he can speak, dark chocolate eyes examining you thoroughly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? When I was-” He cuts himself off with a clear of his throat, eyes dropping back to his lap. He must’ve managed to track down his clothes from before he’d shifted since he was using them to cover himself. “I can’t really remember anything when I’m… like that.”

“No,” you say, and you can see the relief wash over him, tension easing in his shoulders and he no longer looks like he is going to accidentally shred his jumper. “No, you, uh, well you brought me here and then decided it was a proper time for a cuddle apparently.” You try to force a laugh, though the situation is certainly still awkward, “I thought that werewolves were s’posed to be scary, y’know? Think you’re just a were-lapdog instead?” 

A startled laugh slips out of Remus and he looks almost as stunned by it as by your words, “I- I don’t know. This is kind of a new reaction? I’m, uh, I’m usually not so nice when I’m not myself.”

“Huh,” you say, more curious than ever about the wolf’s odd behavior, “I wonder why you were acting like that then? It didn’t really seem to be aggression, even when you growled at me - more like herding behavior like my uncle’s collie.”

Remus flushes at that. This close you can see the dozens of tiny freckles that scattered over his cheeks and down his jaw and neck. “I… have a theory,” he says quietly, like he almost can’t bring himself to say it. His gaze drops back to the bundle of cloth in your hands and you almost wonder if he would’ve tried to sneak out before you had woken up. You wouldn’t have blamed him if he did. “I think it’s some sort of passively shared consciousness? I can’t really connect to it at all, but maybe it can get a sense of my feelings? Like if I strongly disliked someone, it would probably act accordingly, and if I liked someone…” Remus trails off at that, flushing impossibly redder.

An amused little snort escapes you then and you lean forward, supporting yourself with your arms as you push yourself into his field of vision. “Is this you saying you like me, Remus?” You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you at the way you can already see him scrambling for a response, but you lean forward to press a light kiss to his cheek before he can find the words. “Cute,” you say, grinning as you watch the realization hit him. “Sit with me at breakfast?”

He nods slowly as he wraps his mind around your words, eventually letting you help him to his feet and back into his clothes. The two of you eventually make your way back to Hogwarts through the secret passage under the Whomping Willow that he shows you, taking breaks when he needs them and trading banter and kisses all the way.

And while your friends were curious about the shy Gryffindor sitting beside you at breakfast with his hand curled tight with yours, none of them questioned what really happened to you during your night in the haunted house.

[ghcstao3]

(part 1) (cw blood/violence)

Shifters should be born, not made. That’s one of few things that science has been able to say for certain about the biology (and ethics) of the species.

John MacTavish was born, not made, and all his life he’s told that’s something he should be grateful for. And he is.

Because it’s his heightened senses that aid him in excelling in his career. It’s his inhuman abilities that give him an edge; it's his differently-wired brain that deepens his perception, his instinct, and lends him a better gut feeling to tell right from wrong.

And Simon "Ghost" Riley is nothing but wrong.

John could sense something was off about the lieutenant from the moment they met—the man smells human beneath the smoke and dirt and gun oil, but he carries himself too strangely to not be something else. His voice, though obviously naturally gravelly, rasps like his vocal cords don’t take too kindly to words, and his limbs are slightly, almost imperceptibly disproportionate, and it's unsettling, but John just pastes on a friendly smile and promises to save you a seat, sir.

Ghost's stare weighs heavy on John's shoulders as he retreats, something dark and piercing and haunted. It bores a hole through John’s gear, burns the nape of his neck, but he has to continue walking away. He can’t pause, can’t look back, because somehow he fears he won’t like what he sees if he does.

It’s animal instinct that has his hackles raised in Ghost’s presence from then on. John acts unafraid, is unafraid, but there’s something about the man he needs to know but cannot, and it’s eating him alive. Ghost may say he’s human and Price might back that claim, but John isn’t stupid. He isn’t so naive to think that something isn’t wrong.

Then John gets his answer. Stranded alone with Ghost, exhausted and irritated and sticky with sweat in the middle of the Amazon, he gets his answer.

Their makeshift camp would offer scant protection, but being in the middle of nowhere John anticipates their worst enemy would only be the fauna—regardless, though, they’d take turns keeping watch. Or they might take turns, given Ghost has a track record of taking the first shift and never waking John up until they had to move.

Sometimes John thinks that the man might not actually sleep.

This time, however, John is roused by the tearing of flesh and the squelch of blood, by gargled screams and snapped bones. It’s too dark to make anything out, but rather than investigate John wills his body still and breath quiet, preferring he not get caught by whatever monstrous thing he can hear growling low in its throat.

As wary as he still is about his lieutenant, they’ve grown close enough that John itches to reach out for his assurance, to make certain the man is still alive.

But then there’s one last nauseating rip of limb from torso, and a desperate, choking plea, and then there’s silence.

John has to bite back his own scream when a wet snout suddenly nudges his face.

A cold nose brushes his skin followed by a whiskered, bloodied maw, the creature sniffing at him while John keeps his eyes screwed shut. He begins to worry that this is how he dies—like the other men that must have found their position just in time to get torn apart—but then the creature moves away from his face, wandering elsewhere, but not far, before it slumps on the ground.

After its breathing has evened out, John dares take a peek, and while the rainforest’s canopy blocks out most moonlight, he can still faintly make out the form of what he thinks is a jaguar, a black panther—but it’s too big, too gangly, its fur patchy and matted with crimson. John is tempted to pick through his gear for a flashlight, the moonlight too dim to pick out the details, but he ultimately resists. Just squints into the night at the strange disjointedness of the maybe-jaguar, its composition wrong, almost like it’s an amalgamation of animals rather than just one.

Eventually John rolls onto his back, staring up at the silhouettes of branches and leaves high above, trying not to think too hard about the massacre he’s going to find in the morning, or about the beast, or about where the fuck Ghost had gone.

He doesn’t really fall back asleep, only drifts in and out of consciousness, his mind restless and battling with his fatigue. When dawn mercifully breaks, John wastes no time getting up, unable to stay still any longer—he’d been right, of course, about the grisly sight of their camp’s perimeter.

A dozen or so dismembered and disemboweled bodies are strewn about, remnants of gear and weapons telling John they had, in fact, been the enemy caught up to them—and the culprit of it all, John remembers, is still asleep on the soft earth as if it hadn’t so easily caused all that carnage.

And Ghost is still missing.

John turns, tentative, to observe the jaguar-thing, and as his gaze sets upon it in the growing light, a violent shiver rolls up his spine.

What he first decides is that’s it’s not quite a jaguar, but nor is it really anything else. John’s eyes had not deceived him in assessing its size and too-long limbs; it’s almost grotesque in form, malformed, uncanny. Corded muscle is uncomfortably prominent, as are the ridges of its ribs, its shoulder blades, its hips. Teeth and claws long and sharp and deadly, fangs so lengthy they poke past the jaguar-thing’s lips like a sabre-tooth tiger.

It goes beyond mutation, John thinks, but he also doesn’t know how else an animal like that could exist without some kind of unnatural intervention.

Unless—

No. No, that’s a stupid thought. No one becomes a shifter, and if they do they certainly don’t live to tell the tale. No, that can’t be possible.

But it would make so much sense.

The jaguar-thing stirs, then, blinking open eyes the same dark colour of the spongy soil beneath them.

Not the right colour for a cat of any kind.

John doesn’t move. Considers shifting himself not to fight but to give him speed in fleeing, but he needs his gear, and he needs to know if this thing is Ghost, so he remains glued in place as the creature stands and stretches, moving lithely in spite of the way its body so wrongly exists. He stands his ground even when it approaches, even when it stands much taller than a jaguar should, almost like the beast is half-bear.

Then its presence shifts, and he sucks a sharp breath through his teeth.

What stares back at John is not human.

[son1c]

in a fit of what i can only describe as "pure madness," i wrote this entire thing from 12AM to 4AM last night. it's for 10verse. it's related to these drawings. i hope you like it

RETURN TO SENDER

Plants roared in the great forest of Boscage Maze. Not literally, of course. They didn't have mouths. But as vines whipped and branches slashed, sending a flurry of poisonous leaves exploding in every direction, one could be fooled.

Sonic and his friends-who-weren't-his-friends had to be mindful of jagged wooden teeth as they reached down from the treetops to snap at them. While passing by one such monster, Whirley nearly lost an ear, but was saved by Windthrow. It was hard work navigating the dangerous forest, but between Sonic's spindashes and Thorn Rose's hammer, they managed to bash their way through the foliage and into the deepest part of the Boscage.

This made the plants angry. Since they'd connected with a mind greater than their own, they'd learned how to feel. And now, the hive buzzed with its collective rage as it convulsed its million limbs.

Thorns shot out from the brush like arrows. Prim had to fold in her wings and drop down to avoid becoming Swiss cheese. Although, maybe that would've been preferable to the dirt and bugs crawling on the forest floor. She stuck her tongue out in distaste.

But it was too late to turn back now.

The heart of the Boscage was just up ahead--that much was obvious to Sonic. Sure, it was just as green as the rest of the forest, but the way the vines weaved around each other, creating a tangled nest of knotted foliage gave it away. That, and the sickly light of the Green Prism Shard leaking through the cracks.

With the killer plants hot on their trail, Sonic motioned for everyone to stop. Wasting no time, he curled into a ball and slammed into the wall of snarled vines at top speed. His sharp quills sliced through the plants with some trouble--because they were so thick--but his will was stronger than their defenses. After successfully sawing a door through the vines, he stood and turned back toward his companions.

"Did someone call a gardener?" he quipped with a wink.

Everyone rolled their eyes.

"Tough crowd," Sonic muttered.

But then the vines began to squirm. Realizing they were already starting to regrow, everyone hurried through the gap Sonic had created. It closed behind them shortly after.

Gnarly gulped. "You don't think they're gonna eat us, do ya? The a-a-aliens?"

Thorn Rose slammed the handle of her hammer down in front of her, making Gnarly jump. "We're as good as eaten if we don't fight back!" she snapped. "The Green needs our help. Without it, we're all alien food."

Gnarly grimaced, but didn't argue.

Halcyon turned to face Sonic. "Your plan is unlikely to succeed," he said matter-of-factly. "However, I will allow you to attempt it. Once. In the case that it fails, I will do whatever it takes to dispose of the Black Arms."

Sonic grinned. "One shot's all I need," he said confidently.

Halcyon considered this. After a moment, he nodded.

Sonic tried not to think about how much Halcyon looked like Shadow when he did that. Not like it mattered, anyway. Because they would save Shadow. Together. Right here, right now. No matter what Halcyon thought the odds were--Sonic would beat them like he always did.

Squeezing his hands into fists to hide their slight tremor, Sonic turned to the group and said, "Let's whack some weeds!"

The forest shuddered. Prim yelped as the ground seemed to shift beneath her feet. Windthrow and Whirley growled as the vines trembled, their hackles raised in warning. Gnarly looked like he wanted to bolt, but realized he'd probably be safer with the group than on his own, so he stayed where he was. Thorn Rose, Halcyon, and Sonic shared a look.

It must be him.

It must be Shadow.

A moment later, they were proven right. In the middle of the clearing in front of them, vines slithered apart like waves of snakes to reveal a dark form wrapped in flowers and thorns: Shadow. Or, what was once Shadow. His mind had been overwhelmed by the combined might of a billion plants--the Megaflora, as Halcyon had called them. The result of Gerald Robotnik's research. They were plants mixed with Black Arms DNA, and they were hellbent on planetary conquest.

Shadow opened his eyes, but Sonic knew it wasn't really him in control. The dark hedgehog locked eyes with his rival. "Earthling," he cooed. "You have returned to us."

Sonic wanted to jump into action right then and there, but his hastiness was what had gotten them in this mess in the first place, so he forced himself to act cool. "Yeah," he said casually. "What can I say? I just couldn't stay away."

Without looking away from Sonic, Shadow said, "You brought the others."

Sonic was surprised to hear disdain in Shadow's voice. So, the plants had finally gotten the hang of emoting, huh? Well, it didn't make them any less creepy. With a wave of his hand, Sonic replied, "Don't mind them. This is about you and me."

The vines squeezed tighter around Shadow. Sonic could see the thorns dig into his fur, drawing blood. Sonic had to keep talking in order to stop himself from abandoning his plan. "I get it," he said, a little tightly. "You missed me. I'd miss me too. Thing is, I did some thinking while I was gone..."

Shadow didn't move. Didn't blink. He just stared at Sonic, listening.

It seemed as though the whole world had gone quiet. Maybe it had.

"...And, well," Sonic continued, "I changed my mind."

Finally, Shadow reacted. He leaned forward, his body moving like a puppet on strings. "Is that so?"

Sonic stepped forward. Not too fast, not too slow. Deliberately. Shadow--but really, the Megaflora--tracked his every move. Good. That was what he wanted. "Uh-huh," Sonic said. He folded his hands behind his head calmly. Then, with a lopsided smile, he added, "I wanna stay here with you."

At last, Shadow left the center of the clearing. The Megaflora had gotten better at moving his body since the last time Sonic was here, but "better" was relative, and plants were never meant to walk in the first place, so was it really any surprise that now that they could, they did so with stuttering, jerky steps?

As Sonic watched Shadow come closer, his stomach twisted uncomfortably. But he kept his eyes on him. He didn't dare look away, especially not up and over the dark hedgehog's shoulder, where Thorn Rose and Halcyon now were. No, Sonic kept his eyes on Shadow just like he said he would. Because that was the plan.

When he was directly in front of Sonic, Shadow finally stopped his scary marionette-walk. Unfortunately, he did something even scarier next: he smiled.

"Do you take us for a fool, Earthling? These eyes are not the only ones that can see."

Thorn Rose gasped as eyeball-covered, alien vines suddenly shot up from the ground and grabbed her ankles.

"Loathsome vermin," Shadow said darkly. Then, he turned his attention back toward Sonic. Now, his voice was soft. Almost sad. "If only you could have seen... but no matter."

Vines anchored Sonic's feet in place as Shadow wrapped his hands around the blue hedgehog's throat.

"Your corpse will make fine company!"

Suddenly, Halcyon shouted, "Now!"

Windthrow tackled Shadow, and his superior size sent them both tumbling to the ground in a flurry of fur and foliage. Sonic, meanwhile, instinctively touched his throat. Oh, yeah. That was going to hurt later. But there was no time for that now--he shook his shoes free from the vines before Shadow could get back up.

Everyone was on the move. While Windthrow was wrestling with Shadow, the scavengers had taken to beating back the plants attempting to stop Halcyon and Thorn Rose from cracking open the cage of vines in the heart of the forest. Halcyon had transformed his jelly arm into a saw, while Thorn Rose used her hammer to block the vines from growing back. Soon, Halcyon was able to break through to the core, and from it he pulled out the glowing Green Prism Shard.

Shadow shoved Windthrow off of him. "No!" he roared, and it was like all the plants in the world did too.

But it was too late.

Halcyon threw the Shard. At the height of the chaos, it seemed as though time slowed down. Sonic watched as the Shard began to arc through the air before reluctantly tearing his gaze away from it. He turned instead toward Shadow. Using his super speed, Sonic snatched Shadow's wrist, hauled him up, and then with his free hand, he took the one chance Halcyon had given him.

And he didn't miss.

Sonic's fingertip connected with the Shard.

A brilliant flash of light filled the forest.

When it cleared, Sonic and Shadow were gone. But the sounds of the wailing Megaflora seemed to follow them through the Void, their agonized screaming licking at Sonic's heels, lamenting, "We almost had you!"

But Sonic didn't believe in "almosts". He kept a tight grip on Shadow as the two of them careened through the Void. It was the bright blue gate of No Place that swallowed them up, and after the suffocating green of the Boscage, Sonic welcomed it.

The portal spat them out in the sky, which was frankly quite rude of it. Sonic blinked, realized the two of them were now falling down instead of horizontally, and brought Shadow--who hadn't moved since he'd touched the Shard--into his arms. With any luck, they'd land on the same small island Sonic had discovered the first time he'd come to No Place.

It felt like they fell for a long time, but it was probably only 10 seconds. Sonic's spines hit the sand first, and it knocked the wind out of him, but not in a "linebacker just punted me across a football field" kind of way. It was more like a "shopping cart just hit me unexpectedly" way. In other words, because Sonic was tough, all he really did was let out a quiet oof.

"As far as landings go," Sonic said, "I'm gonna have to give that one a 4 out of 10. Forget about style points--we're totally beached!"

Shadow didn't respond. In fact, he still hadn't moved at all.

Sonic sat up, pulling Shadow up with him. Shadow's eyes were open, but they were glassy and unfocused, staring at nothing. Frowning, Sonic said, "Hellooo? Earth to Shadow?"

When Shadow still didn't respond, Sonic's grin faded. The blue hedgehog's nose twitched before he bent his head down, pressing one ear against the Ultimate Lifeform's chest, listening for a heartbeat--which he heard immediately. "Geez, Shadow," Sonic said after lifting his head back up. "You really had me going for a second there, bud. Trying to ruin my awesome rescue by..."

Sonic trailed off. He didn't want to admit it, but he was starting to get a little nervous, and he didn't feel like making jokes anymore. He just wanted Shadow to say something--anything. Because the longer he kept quiet, the more time Sonic had to think about why that might be.

Could his rescue have actually ended in disaster? Sure, he'd saved Shadow's body, but what about his mind? Was it still trapped in Boscage with those awful weeds?

Shadow blinked.

Sonic snapped out of his thoughts. In a small voice, Sonic asked, "Shadow...?"

Slowly, so slowly they would give molasses a run for its money, Shadow's eyes moved from staring straight ahead at nothing to looking up and over at Sonic.

"...Sonic."

Sonic's face lit up with a dazzling grin. He pulled Shadow into a hug, pressing his cheek against Shadow's in a way he knew was annoying and that Shadow would hate. Except, Shadow didn't push him away. Unlike the last time he did this in the Void, Shadow stayed still and let Sonic hug him.

For a brief second, Sonic worried that he had just imagined Shadow talking, and he was actually still catatonic. But thankfully, Shadow said something else, although his voice was a little muffled by Sonic's quills.

"I'm... free?"

Sonic pulled back so he could see Shadow's face. The dark hedgehog was looking down, his normally unreadable expression clouded with confusion and... something else. He still didn't move other than to breathe, almost as though he was afraid to do so.

For the first time, Sonic let go of Shadow. With his typical cocky attitude, he flashed his rival a thumbs up. "Yup!"

Shadow's expression grew more extreme. His hands shook as they reached out to grab Sonic, and in that moment Sonic realized what else was shining in Shadow's eyes: fear.

Sonic let Shadow pull him into an embrace. "Whoa, hey," Sonic said. "It's alright! Those weeds won't be bothering you anymore, Shadow. Promise."

Sonic felt Shadow's grip around him tighten. Then, Sonic realized with growing horror that his shoulder was getting wet. Wet from tears he couldn't see. He thought about how time flowed differently between the Shatterspaces, and how while he had only been separated from Shadow for a few days, Shadow had been alone with the Megaflora for much, much longer.

Sonic squeezed his eyes shut. However, he quickly set his jaw. The guilt could wait in line with his feelings about breaking the universe. He had something more important to deal with right now: Shadow.

"Sorry I was late," Sonic said quietly. "Didn't mean to make you wait, Shadow."

Shadow didn't reply, but Sonic could feel him press his face into his shoulder. So, Sonic asked, "Not up for small talk, eh?" Because he already knew he wouldn't get an answer, he continued, "That's fine. I got you."

Sonic watched the waves lap against the shore while Shadow cried. He didn't say anything else. There was nothing more to say. It was hard not to think about how he'd almost lost him, how Sonic was almost alone with nothing but the pieces of their broken world to pick up on his own, but Sonic didn't do "almosts". He just sat in the sand and rubbed his thumbs gently against Shadow's back.

Eventually, Shadow grew still. Sonic didn't want to move him, but when he didn't respond to his prodding, he did it anyway and found that he'd fallen asleep. Sonic could've said something about how they didn't have time for power naps, they had a world to save and a multi-verse to fix, but he didn't. The truth was, he was tired too. He hadn't slept since...

Uh...

Well, he wasn't sure how long it'd been. But if Mr. Ultimate Lifeform was tired enough to sleep, then he got a free pass for a nap too. That's how it worked, right? Come to think of it, did the Megaflora even need to sleep? They were plants, so probably not. But that would mean...

Sonic looked at the bags under Shadow's eyes and winced.

Without a word, Sonic laid Shadow down in the sand. Then, Sonic laid down too. The sun was setting on the horizon, and the first stars of nighttime were becoming visible in No Place's sky. Sonic thought that they looked identical to the stars he saw in Green Hill, but quickly stopped thinking it when his heart squeezed painfully.

Wait in line with the rest, thanks.

Eventually, the steady sound of the ocean foam lulled Sonic to sleep. Now, was it a good night's sleep? Was it free of awful dreams and fitful rolling? As a matter of fact, yeah, it was. He must've been exhausted because he slept like a rock despite all the baggage weighing him down.

In fact, when the stars faded and the pink-orange sun began to drift over the horizon, it was Shadow who woke up first.

Though, it was hard to tell, because he didn't open his eyes. For several horrible, horrible seconds, he didn't remember the events of last night, and he thought he was back in Boscage Maze. So, he waited. He waited for the Megaflora to tell him what to do, as they had been doing for the past month and a half. But their instructions never came. It was quiet inside of his mind, their raucous hissing absent.

He remembered what Sonic had said.

You're free.

Shadow opened his eyes. He was greeted by the beautiful blue ocean of No Place, so much nicer than the suffocating green of his old prison. After sitting up, he turned his head, and saw Sonic asleep next to him.

A cavalcade of unwanted thoughts rose to the forefront of his mind. All things that the Megaflora had wanted--had told him that he wanted--had forced him to want. Conquer the planet, kill the scavengers, save the Earthling.

But as it turned out, the "Earthling" had saved him.

Shadow swallowed thickly. It was difficult to put those thoughts out of his mind, to remember what was his and what was theirs. For what felt like an eternity, there was no difference. It was simply them. Theirs. We. Us.

Sonic's ear flicked in his sleep. Shadow stared at it.

"I'm Shadow the Hedgehog," he said to no one in particular. "I'm the Ultimate Lifeform."

A soft sea breeze blew across the tiny island. Sonic stirred. He cracked an eye open, then grinned. "’I'm the Ultimate Lifeform’," he said in his best Shadow impression.

Shadow scowled. He looked away from Sonic and out at the endless ocean. "Hmph."

"Back to your old self, huh? Good. I was starting to think I'd need to find a new rival!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Shadow lied.

Sonic sat up. "Aw, c'mon, Shad," he teased. "We're not doing the forgetting-important-events thing again. Once was more than enough! Besides," Sonic leaned in close to Shadow, "it's a lot more fun when you play along."

"This isn't a game, Sonic!" Shadow snapped.

"C'mon, dude. You're back. I'm feelin' good. What's wrong with a little--"

Shadow interrupted, "You still don't get it. We-- I--..." Shadow said again, putting heavy emphasis on that first word, "I saw things. All of their memories. These aren't just facsimiles of your friends; these are whole worlds you've created with your mistake."

Sonic grew quiet. After a moment, he asked, "So they're real now, huh?"

Shadow glared at Sonic. But then, all the anger drained from his face. He just looked tired. "The accursed Megaflora has been around for longer than my Project. I witnessed its conception and subsequent failure. It... is real. And the suffering it’s inflicted on Boscage Maze can't be denied."

Shaking his head, Sonic said, "Yeah, well, that's what they made you for."

Shadow tensed. But Sonic waved his hand and said apologetically, "Halcyon, I mean. The other, uh... you. He's supposed to fix it." Sonic cleared his throat awkwardly. "Now that you're outta there, those weeds won't last long. Don't sweat it!"

Shadow pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sonic, you..." He was aggravated. "No, I made things worse. They probed my mind. They have my intelligence. I couldn't... there was nothing I could do to stop them. They kept pushing until I..."

Broke.

"...It's okay, Shadow. Really."

"How can you say that?" Shadow was shouting now. "How can you possibly... understand?"

"I don't," Sonic admitted. Then, he patted Shadow's arm. "But I know you. And even a faker like Halcyon has gotta have some of you in him. And I know you don't take the easy way. You don't quit. So, it'll be okay. Cuz I trust you."

Shadow laughed bitterly. "You're still the same idiot," he said.

"Maybe," Sonic said with a shrug. "But I got you back. Right?"

Shadow's mouth went dry. He remembered--both through his own two eyes and the thousand eyes of the Megaflora--seeing Sonic fight against the immense might of the Boscage Black Arms. He conceded, "You did."

Sonic's mouth quirked up in a small smile. "And why's that?"

Frowning, Shadow searched Sonic's eyes for a hint of what the answer might be, but he couldn't figure it out.

Sonic didn't look away. "It's cuz I need you. I'm big enough to admit that."

The thought of having to fix the world all on his own was almost too much for Sonic to bear. He'd been faced with that awful reality while separated from Shadow, while Shadow had been suffering under the Megaflora's control. Thankfully, Sonic didn't have to see the reality of that "almost".

Sonic held out his hand to Shadow. "Let's fix this, Shadow. Together."

Shadow looked at Sonic's hand for a long moment. In the end, he took it and said, "Together."

[devil-in-hiding]

For the angst...I say bring back the ex..not getting back together but maybe a forced kiss and reader is disgusted with themselves and just rots in bed

-🦋(ots 3 am but i can't sleep since yhered a fucking over large wasp and I'm scared.)

wife you read my mind because i was just thinking of running into ex whilst out running errands, which you were excited for when you started, you had a special dinner planned for the guys

just to feel someone crowding into your space, hearing that voice that makes your blood run cold and you flinch, muscle memory, unwanted words and finally shoving him off when he kisses you, demanding that the two of you have dinner at his stupid new apartment

and the drive back to the farm is miserable, your skin crawls, tears blurring your vision and you are just trying to keep you eyes on the road

fleeing to your room the second your out of the truck, almost tripping over Dixon, who can s m e l l that bastard on you and he is all raised hackles, bounding out to the truck growling and sniffing, marking his territory wherever he smells bastard the most

Price begging you to open the door, he can hear your sobs from the bathroom and the water running