#just. stop it with the hunger spikes. it hurts so fucking bad

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I!! Hate!! Random!! Hunger spikes!!!

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BLACK-EYED SUSAN | LEVI X READER HUNGER GAMES AU

Chapter 13: Rinse and Repeat

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Tw: PTSD, implied suicidal ideation, alcoholism

WC: 5.4k Ao3 link Ask to be added to the taglist! It will be updated weekly on Saturdays

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“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful, it was always just red.” – Kait Rokowski

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It had been a few years since your world had gotten simultaneously a million times better and also gone to shit. It hadn’t really hit you two until you had spent a few days back in the homes that had been provided for you. You each had your own house as per usual for victors, but you didn’t need a second. You had spent your life together in a borderline shack, it would feel weird to have the other sleep across the street. But it had been in that gifted house that it finally came crashing down.

All you could see was their faces, all you could feel was that knife in your hand, all you could hear was that goddamn canon. You were sitting on a velvet couch paid for in blood. Now having more than enough food on the table was exchanged for lives. Being able to still exist in the world meant twenty-two people had been ripped from the world.

Levi had been next to you, so he just held you, his shoulders shuddering just as bad as yours, and you cried. You just cried. There’s nothing you can do or say or think to make anything like that better. Only time can help, and to be honest it isn’t very good at its job.

The trip to each district took what was left out of you two. Combined you had killed tributes of five districts out of the other eleven. Almost fucking half. Most of their families just glared at you on their platforms as their child’s face was displayed behind them as you recited propaganda scripts.

District Ten was hard for you. They had surprised you to be honest, neither of Sasha’s nor Connie’s family looked at you with any disdain. All you could feel was pity radiating off of them, especially from Sasha’s father. She told you how he had taught her how to shoot, you almost deviated off script to say how you learnt vicariously through his daughter, how kind she and funny she was.

Connie’s siblings hurt to look at. They looked at you with such big eyes. They should have hated you, they really fucking should have. Their brother died in one of the most horrific ways possible yet they stared at you as if you were one of their sisters. The normal people in front of the stage only copied their looks, none of them hated you for taking away two souls. It didn’t make any fucking sense. It would have been better if they had just heckled you. Just yelled at you and screamed at you, taking the brunt of their words was the least you could do for exchanging your life for one their own.

District Eleven wasn’t so kind to Levi. Kaya’s family looked like they were two seconds from breaking on to the main stage and choking him to death right there. He might have let them. Niccolo’s family was confusing. There was obviously no forgiveness for how Levi killed their son, a wild animal in a spree of rage, but they didn’t look angry. Levi had told you he had just said a few words over Niccolo before coming back, maybe those words were enough remorse for them to not want his head on a spike.

However, the civilians in the crowd didn’t agree. They had to be restrained from climbing up, yelling threats and taunts, about how he could kill a little girl without a second glance, how he took pleasure in killing Niccolo. Levi kept his head down, his undercut blinding his view, but his hand shook in yours. You did the speech on behalf of the both of you.

The districts from Nine to Five didn’t give two shits about you, maybe only some had mild curiosity. Their glazed-over eyes just stared, clearly bored as you were from the fuckery spilling from your lips. Some of the families glared only because their child wasn’t standing up there instead of you, but you couldn’t blame them for that.

One was…weird to say the least. Neither of you had many interactions with either Annie or Bertolt, but you two lead them to their deaths. Levi may have killed Annie directly but Bertolt’s murder was just cruel, you knew that, but you had thrown that rock anyway. Both of their families just looked devoid of any emotion, the crowd didn’t seem to care, that’s One for you, but their parents just looked empty. The speech went smoothly.

Three was strange as well, you never met nor saw their girl, but Falco you certainly had, but you also hadn’t killed him, in reality your relationship him was positive. They didn’t seem to hate you, quite the opposite really, they seemed to be happy you were there. Three was no stranger to careers betraying and killing their tributes so they were probably just happy Reiner didn’t win and it had been because of your own hands. Still, it was strange. Falco’s older brother, the one you had seen in the reaping recording, had looked on the brink of tears but he stayed strong, his back straight and head up high. They probably wouldn’t have looked at you the same if Falco had gone with you. Someone would have needed to kill him at some point anyway, it just so happened it wasn’t you.

Two was painful. Instead of two separate families standing on their respective platforms it was just one. There was confliction in their eyes for sure, you were surprised they could even stand to be around each other, their sister or bother’s son killing their child. But they stood together. Staring at you with a mix of hate and affection. Levi had to do the speech that time.

Four was hard once again, but only because of one person, specifically Marcel’s younger brother. He flew daggers from his eyes, pure fury ran through his veins. He probably would have killed you both if he had the chance, probably would have been good at it too. You could only begin to imagine the anger he had stored up since you had sliced his brother’s throat.

You recognised him in the reaping for the next game.

He used his anger well.

At the end of the trip you had to go to the Capitol once again for the Presidents party. You nearly preferred the arena.

Floch was sweating buckets under Zeke’s gaze the entire time and drank himself into a stupor, avoiding you both at every turn which you were glad for. People reached for you like you were statues, brushing your hair and clothes and bodies like you were pets. Nick was the only thing stopping you from cursing everyone in the vicinity, Levi came close. Zeke watched from his balcony, eyes narrowed and sipping on champagne waiting for one of you to misstep so he could order a bullet into your heads.

When you got home you two didn’t know what to do. You both fucked around for a year, bought anything that caught your eyes at the hub no matter if it was an ugly piece of pottery or a toy. You bought a lot of liquor too and drank most in one go. The burning in your throats let you forget the inferno in your brains. A small price to pay for some peace and quiet between neurons.

You two were rarely sober for the first few months. You’d wake up and have whiskey for breakfast, you’d walk around town, maybe sneak through the fence, and have some gin, and if it was a particularly bad day you’d opt for tequila as your bedtime stories.

People in the streets knew to leave you alone, just to let you wallow a bit, they hadn’t seen many victors, but they could guess that starting up conversations with people on the knife’s edge was a good way to get punched. Hannes talked to you two occasionally, usually at the hub, cheering your bottles with his flask. He didn’t ask about the game, he saw enough anyway, he just pretended you were those troublemaker kids you had been when you left.

It was Hanji of all people that got you out of it, though she wasn’t one to talk when it came to the number of empty bottles in your living room, but she at least cut the number down a bit or swapped out the drinks for something weaker much to your slurred complaints.

The months after that were hard, letting the built-up trauma hit you like a train. You both started getting nightmares.

One of you would wake up already screaming or crying or be entirely frozen still and unable to move as their body quaked. The other would hold on to them until their tremors ceased and their breath evened again. Then you’d just rinse and repeat the next night.

Rinse and repeat.

Flinch at a raised voice, go numb at the sight of blood, start hyperventilating when you were sure you had seen another tribute in the crowd.

Try not to let yourself die.

Rinse and repeat.

Then the next game came around. You both offered to go as mentors, to let Hanji take a backseat from the role after her isolating years, she came to make sure you didn’t say something stupid, but she just got to hang around without much of a care.

The two kids that you got weren’t good. You knew the second that their names were called that they were goners. Wouldn’t make it in the bloodbath, and even if they ran, they probably wouldn’t live past the first day. You learnt to push their names away. It didn’t help any to hang on to them.

The kids weren’t dumb, they knew that too.

There was a little bit of hope when they looked at you however, a hope that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Porco had sliced both of their throats open within the first minute. Porco won the title of victor in only three days with a kill count of eight. They never had a chance.

You think that was the last time you cried.

When mentors go to the Capitol and watch the feed, they sit in a room together connected to an ongoing party that never stops until the games do, infested with sponsors and government officials. Only mentors are allowed in that room, not even titan servants. You just needed a room to be in to be able to grieve only with people that understood.

They always looked after the new mentors, it didn’t matter the districts or even if their tribute killed yours, they’d hold you, get you a glass of water or usually something stronger, just let you get everything out and topped up makeup on your red rimmed eyes before you got ambushed by press outside the door. Sometimes the career districts were prickly, but only the ones that truly cared about the kids became mentors anyway, so they weren’t ones to give you shit.

It just sort of numbed you after that. You’re not sure if you could even remember all the kids you sent to their deaths. No, you definitely couldn’t, and you didn’t plan to.

Without fail every year they always got killed in the bloodbath, and every year without fail you’d drill into them to just run away, but they just wouldn’t listen, or the careers just didn’t let them leave. You both spent most of your time in the Capitol just flicking off the tops of third bottles and taking quiet bets on who was going to win or who’d kill who. Levi was always right.

It was actually Erwin’s idea to do something back at Twelve, to find something to pour yourselves into. So, after the 70th Hunger Games you went back and pushed your ludicrous amount of money to builders to create an orphanage. The one on your side of Twelve was shit and didn’t have the funding nor space, it was the reason you two had never gone to it yourselves, so you gave them some of your load too so they could get food on the table for once.

Kids started trickling in, you didn’t run the place yourselves, you didn’t have the emotional range to do something like that anymore and you’d probably do more harm than good as their caretakers, they didn’t need a pair of fucked up twenty-year-olds to lead them through life. But you visited, making sure everything was up to scratch and there was no complaints or concerns from the kids about the people you had employed or the quality of their beds and food or if they needed some more toys to play with.

Levi always made sure the place was meticulous, and it was kinda funny how he used cleaning as his way to bond with the kids. They always complained but they never said no when he asked for their help. You helped kids with schoolwork and funded whatever type of skill they wanted to learn.

“You wanna paint? Here’s an easel and some paints from the Capitol that my designer friend sent over.”

It was hard to smile but at least you could help them to.

One day, when you two had dropped in to visit before you went to stock up on vodka, a boy came up to you with big emerald eyes, with a black-haired girl trailing after him. He asked a question that got everyone surrounding you looking up from their sandwiches.

“Can you teach us how to fight?”

And so you did. Twelve had always been at a disadvantage, nothing in your district aided you for the Games, the closet you’d had was learning about mines and explosions or having the physical strength to lift a pickaxe but that was only available when you worked in the mineshafts at eighteen, the last year qualifying for the reaping, and eighteen-years-olds were never picked.

So usually any kid that went in was utterly fucked.

Unless you tried changing that.

You started small. Learning how to throw a proper punch or kick, things you had learnt on the streets stirring up trouble. How to balance yourself in a proper stance so a gust of wind or a shove from a career wouldn’t send you stumbling.

You taught them the things you learnt in the Capitol and in the training room; what foods were safe, how to set a trap, how to treat a wound, how to conduct an interview, how to form an alliance, who to avoid.

It was a long time before you held a blade again.

They had begged you for months to just teach them how to knife fight, but the idea still shook you. You hadn’t held a throwing knife in your hand for years, but it still melded uncomfortably comfortable into your palm. You could still throw it and hit it dead on centre. You knew if the throw was hard enough to go through someone’s skull. You knew how long it would take for their body to hit the ground if it were a clean shot, and how long it would take if it wasn’t. You knew how many milliseconds it would take for the canon to fire.

Picking up a knife again, only if to teach, was a torturous process, but you didn’t let them know that. You would just drink a little more that night.

“Eren keep your arms up! Try and copy Mikasa’s form!” you barked.

They all stood in a line, throwing knives into hay bales, some making it, most missing. Mikasa was unsurprisingly the former, Eren was unsurprisingly the latter. The two were always the hardest at work though it seemed it was usually driven by Eren’s ambition. The kid wasn’t gifted with natural talent but he was stubborn enough to try and make up for it. They had come to the orphanage after Mikasa’s parents were murdered over some debt they couldn’t pay and Eren lost his mum to a mine explosion and then his father caught something bad from his own patient.

It was always them begging you (well Eren at least, Mikasa would just ask nicely) for more lessons and whatever advice they could squeeze out of you. It frightened you a little, Eren’s enthusiasm, you had seen that face before.

It was an unspoken truth that they were your favourites of the bunch, the others didn’t take offence to it, it was just those two were always coming up to you two whenever they got the chance, though you were scared it was because they reminded you of an overconfident kid and the one trying to take care of them. You tried to pretend you didn’t see Gabi and Falco when you looked at them.

“I’m trying but my arm’s starting to feel heavy!” Eren said, not even bothering to turn his head.

“You brats don’t have time to get tired when you’re in there so just get used to it,” Levi replied.

He walked behind them, arms crossed as he analysed each of them, you tried not to make a joke that Eren and Mikasa were taller than him now. He muttered out tips to those who needed it, and compliments to those who deserved it, you had tried to get him to coddle them just a little bit but then he said overestimating yourself just gets your killed and you couldn’t say anything to that. When he got to the end of the line of kids, he wandered back over to you and you gave a crooked smile.

He bumped his shoulder into yours before turning around and standing next to you, you both falling into your usual silence as you just watched.

“There’s more of them than usual,” Levi noted and you nodded absentmindedly.

“It’s today, it makes them nervous.”

“Zeke never picks them though.”

That was true, when you had first started up the orphanage, you had expected Zeke to jump at the opportunity, there was no way he wasn’t privy to your every movement let alone something that required legal documents to be signed, so how he hadn’t rigged the reaping to pull one of your kids was honestly getting a little unnerving.

But each year a pair of kids were picked that you didn’t recognise, and you’d breathe a sigh of relief; it’s much easier to forget strangers.

You realised that the games were rigged at the 71st games, you had noticed that all the slips of paper you could see, even though they were folded in half, would all start with the same letter, it peeking out, and then the name called out would match. You asked Hanji afterwards, cause there was no way she hadn’t noticed, and she just laughed in your face.

“It’s a show, of course they choose their cast.”

You leant your head on his shoulder as you watched, he leant his head too. His arms untangled themselves from each other and he let one fall, letting his pinkie interlock with your waiting one. You both still being there was a constant surprise and an unspoken threat, because someday, when Zeke got tired, or you did something to piss him off, that fact might not be so true anymore.

But Levi’s there now, maybe not tomorrow, but today at least, and you could only hope that the trend remained.

“Cut it out dude!”

You both whipped your heads around, finding two kids wrestling on the ground. They panted as they tried to get the advantage, dust billowing around them as the other kids stared. Neither of you could be bothered to move. Eventually one straddled the other, pinning him to the dirt.

Levi’s pinkie tightened.

The boy on the ground whined while the other grinned in victory before joining his empty hands together and sending them down onto the boy’s chest.

Levi stiffened beneath you and alarm bells blared in your head.

The boy started pretending to stab him.

“Die! Die! Die!”

The kids around them laughed.

The boy beneath told him to stop.

Levi’s breath shortened.

You were at the kids in a second, pulling them off one another.

“That’s enough.”

They went silent, the boys looking down to the ground in shame, though they didn’t know why you were trying so hard not to glare.

“Time to pack up anyway, you guys need to get ready for the reaping,” you said, you were just greeted with whinges, “Put the knives in the tub you lot. Now.”

They instantly shut up, knowing that tone of yours was not to be messed with under any circumstances. They all shuffled off, throwing the knives in, you always counted them all in case one of them took one, but they were good kids.

Levi nodded at them as they filed back inside the building, jaw still tight. As soon as they were all gone, Eren and Mikasa waving goodbye at the end of the line, you sprinted back over, running your hands through his hair as you brought his face to your shoulder.

“Shh it’s okay it’s okay.”

A shudder whipped through him.

You kissed his temple. “You’re not in the arena, you’re in Twelve. I’m not about to die and neither are you. No one is dying and no one is going to. Just breathe, just focus on my voice and breathe.”

Eventually he stilled again, air flowing through his lungs like normal. It didn’t happen as much anymore, but it still happened. It probably didn’t help that he was about to meet two dead kids.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

He nodded into your shoulder before finally raising his head, sliding over his façade again. You two of all people had to be the strong ones today, you couldn’t show fear, you weren’t allowed to anymore.

The walk home was silent, most people were inside or rushing home to get ready. You dropped past the hub quickly and you bought some bottles from your usual, Levi didn’t say a word, just stared into space. You passed the town square, the camera crews were nearly all set up, the barriers were getting placed. Hannes was testing the mic on the stage, he sent you a nod that you sent back.

The Victor’s village was always weird to see, after passing smog polluted houses with windows that are barely transparent anymore with walls that are starting to tilt, you come to a pristine gate. The separation pissed you off like it was saying you were better than them, but Nick would have your head if you even suggested taking it down. The houses were beautiful too. Maybe it was just an average house for a Capitol citizen, maybe a little nicer, but it looked like a goddamn king’s estate compared to everywhere else in Twelve.

People would say you deserved it, to have a nice home. It made you want to puke.

You could see Hanji through her window, lounging on a couch, bottle of whiskey in hand. Seemed like a plan.

You squeezed Levi’s hand as you unlocked the door and led him inside. You shed your jackets and shoes and put away your bottles, leaving one out. You glanced to him, he was still sort of out of it, he needed quietness, maybe a bath. Yeah a bath would do, those always calmed him down.

You trekked up the stairs, on the landing you let yourself take a little run up and slide across the wooden floorboards on your socks towards the bathroom door. Silly shit helped sometimes.

You reached out and grabbed the handle and turned it, pushing forward on the door. It let out an ungodly and far too familiar screech.

You gasped and slammed your back into the wall.

Fuck.

Your breath was getting quicker, not letting your lungs get enough oxygen before taking another gulp.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You crouched down, elbows on your knees as you pressed your palms into your eyes at a sad attempt to get your brain to stop.

You could only see him, or in more exact terms, you could only see his melted remains.

Fuck.

Rapid thumps came from the stairwell, you didn’t look up as arms enveloped you.

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t say anything, just kissed your head before holding you tighter. Your need to talk to communicate was even less than it used to be ever since the Games. There were things you two didn’t need to speak about, you just acted on, knowing exactly what to do.

Though there were moments you didn’t want to talk about, and you didn’t plan to talk about them either. He didn’t mention finding you sobbing on the bathroom floor surrounded by spilled sleeping pills and you didn’t mention waking up alone in bed and finding him completely out of it on the roof of the orphanage. You didn’t talk about it, but you held each other a little tighter just as you did both of those nights.

“I’ll get some oil for it when we get back,” Levi whispered.

You nodded into his chest.

“Bath?” he asked.

You nodded again.

.

Warm water has magical powers you swore, it really shouldn’t be able to make someone feel so good, to be able to relax and almost drift away forgetting about the possibility of drowning. What a lame way to go out, though it was much nicer than the ways you’d seen.

You laid on Levi’s chest as the water rippled around your little movements. He played with your pruned fingers, touching the fingertips with his own like it was an interactive museum exhibit. You watched, fascinated by his fascination, blinking slowly as the bath bled out all of your stress.

Moments like that were nice, but it had to be broken today. You couldn’t stay in that warm heaven forever, though it was quite tempting, you wouldn’t exactly be missing out on the adventure of a lifetime.

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You ruffled the towel through your hair as you sipped the vodka. The burn and taste were barely noticeable, even the effect had begun to wear off or maybe you had just gotten better at being under the influence.

“Catch.”

You threw the bottle to Levi on the couch who caught it without a second glance, immediately taking a few gulps of it himself.

“Hello you two.”

You both looked to the door, sending tight smiles to your usual guest, though to be honest your home was hers and hers was yours at that point.

She walked behind Levi’s couch and took the bottle that he already had extended to her, taking a gulp before placing it on a side table.

“Ready to send children to die?”

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The reaping went as usual. Hanji welcomed everyone to the 74th Hunger Games, two kids got reaped, one fifteen-year-old and one thirteen-year-old, you couldn’t remember which was which. You waited in the train, neither of them came up to talk to you and just ate up all the food they could before passing out on the nicest bed they would ever sleep in. You didn’t bother them, one look and you knew they were a lost cause.

The process went on.

Neither were that charismatic, they were only memorable because they were last and that was pushing it as is. They both got low scores, a four and a six. The thirteen-year-old cried himself to sleep the night before, or he might have, you wouldn’t know, you slept through it.

That morning you went up to the roof with them, got in the mentor’s hovercraft and just twiddled your thumbs, wondering who was going to win that year or what the arena was going to look like. You went in, sitting in the back of a cart, going through the maze of corridors beneath the grand stage, not bothering to focus in your eyes to see your surroundings. It was just grey walls anyway.

You yawned when you got to the centre, scratching the back of your neck as you tried to find your tributes amongst all of the shaking teenagers.

A finger tapped you on the shoulder. You spun around to see the girl from…Seven? She grinned, her eyes crinkling.

“I just wanted to say I think you’re really cool, I really admire what you and Levi did in your games.”

You blinked.

“Oh, is that so? Good luck then I guess.”

She smiled even wider before running off with a wave. You dragged a hand over your face before heading over to your tribute waiting for you.

It was a forest arena, nothing too special.

The games had long since started when you got back to main city of the Capitol and went into the sponsor party, both of you immediately beelined for the mentor room. You watched as replays showed one getting killed in the bloodbath the other getting hunted down by none other than the careers. You just stared at their slow-mo screaming faces and sighed.

You didn’t cry, you didn’t even blink. You did the first time but after that it’s just been shut away. Thankfully there was no new mentors that year, you didn’t have to deal with sobbing messes. You were too exhausted to care for someone anymore. Compassion doesn’t come cheap.

The mentor room was filled with pain as always, most were just trying to unlearn two names as quickly as possible, drowning their neurons in liquor so they could pretend that two faces weren’t burnt into their brains. It won’t be enough, it never is. You knew that too now.

Some of the others in the room weren’t mentors but they were victors all the same, having just grabbed a free trip to the Capitol so they could bum off some high-class booze. Couldn’t blame them. They were lucky though, the other districts, having more than three victors meant they had the option of just staying home and just ignoring the screen. They didn’t have to know the kids.

You two spent the rest of your time in silence, going back up to the penthouse to sleep before coming back, hoping the whole ordeal would be over soon.

The girl that talked to you before it started, a girl from Eight you had learned, was still alive though, and you couldn’t help but cheer for her a little bit. She started an alliance with a girl from Six, both doing well against the attempted threats on their lives by the careers. Soon they had made it to the last few with only a few scratches to show the world, much better than your leg to say the least. It still ached every once in a while.

But you were still surprised when her little duo alliance were the last ones left. Their mentors were on the edges of their seats, hands covering their noses and mouths like a prayer, eyes glued to the screen.

Then the girl from Eight did something fucking stupid, something that made everyone’s breath hitch around the country.

She brought out some poisonous berries. They had killed a career with them, not needing to get into a fight, but then they held grenades in the form of blueberries in their blood-stained hands.

They brought it to their mouths as the room cursed in unison, people rose from their seats, you could hear people yelling outside the door. They both hesitated for a second as they counted down but plopped them in their mouths anyway.

Two canons fired in quick succession.

The transmission was as silent as the room. No one knew what to do. You stared at the screen with two dead kids. There wasn’t going to be a victor. There wasn’t going to be a victor because they copied you.

“I really admire what you and Levi did in your games.”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

The room slowly turned to you two as your heart hammered in your chest, Levi’s hand fumbled for yours.

You were fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

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.

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a/n: sorry this chapter was late! this was mainly just summary but we’ll really get into it next chapter

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[stories-to-tell-by-lantern-light]

Who Am I Really?

(Eyeless Jack X Reader)

Iron was all he could taste, as he hugged his arms close to his chest. The white snow that speckled the forest floor contrasted greatly with his newly acquired ash-grey skin. He could feel blood crusting under his fingernails, he could feel the sting of the cold snow underneath his bare feet as he walked. Whatever they did to him, he was no longer human that much was clear, his feet turned more animal-like and had ripped through his old shoes. If he was being honest with himself he knew that from the moment he awoke and could still see that he was no longer human.

Jack Nichols shivered as he caressed the hollow sockets where his eyes should’ve been. They were dripping with the black tar that was mercilessly poured in there by Jenny and her cult.

‘That absolute fucking bitch.’ He thought, and an animal-like snarl tore through his throat. He could feel the stretching and popping of his jaw as he ground his teeth together. Killing her and her stupid friends was therapeutic to him, remembering the taste of their blood as it filled his mouth when he tore out their throats made him feel euphoric. Pausing his steps only for a brief moment he let those memories of eating their flesh and organs consume him, it only served to make his mouth water.

What was wrong with him? Why did that memory, which happened only hours ago, make him so god damn hungry? What exactly had they done to him, as much as he tried not to dwell on that thought the hunger that ate away at him even after the slaughter was almost too much to handle. All Jack wanted when he woke up this morning was to go on a date with a cute girl, get a little drunk, and maybe get lucky (though realistically that was just wishful thinking). The true college experience one might say, even for a med student. Especially with a schedule as busy as his...that was as busy as his. He knew he should’ve just stuck to focusing on school and studying his brain out, god why did he have to listen to his friends as they urged him on the date.

‘What’s the worst that can happen?’

This. This was clearly the worst possible outcome.

What he really couldn’t believe, however, was that he allowed one of the cultists to get a hit on him, and a bad one at that. Turning his head to glance down at the tear in his thigh, it was a deep gash that desperately needed to get medical attention and fast. The only problem the former medical student faced was that whatever was pouring out of his leg wasn’t blood. It was a deep black ooze that stained the white snow that littered the forest floor. In fact, Jack wasn’t even sure if normal medical supplies would even heal his wound. Jack grit his teeth trudging onwards into the forest, a faint buzzing reverberated around in his skull like flies buzzing around a corpse that he couldn’t seem to shake.

He placed his hand against a tree the world spinning around him. Whatever the blood-like substance that was pouring out of his leg was, he was losing it fast. Jack heard the crunching of snow in front of him and a small gasp. It took most of his strength but he picked his head up and snarled. Jack bared his teeth and tried to make himself look as dangerous as possible, he felt like a wild animal that was cornered by the hunter. There was a girl in front of him, she had (h/l) (h/c) hair that was stuffed under a furry winter hat. She took a few steps back, her brown snow boots making giant footprints in her wake. He could hear the blood flowing through this girl’s veins, as her anxiety levels seemed to spike. The anxiety caused her heartbeat to quicken drastically, hearing the sound only served to increase Jack’s seemingly ceaseless hunger. Jack tried to take another step towards her, flexing the sharp nails on his hands but collapsed under his own weight, his fucking leg. He really couldn’t catch a break, could he?

“What are you?” The girl’s voice held a slight quiver to it and Jack could feel her sharp eyes burning holes into his body. He watched as she hesitantly took a step closer, her (f/c) parka standing out against the muted colors of the forest.

“I don’t know.” He responded with a raspy breath, she smelled divine but he had no strength to attack. Something in his bones told him that he was beyond human, something so much more, a god perhaps? What a silly thought that he couldn’t shake away. Through his quickly blurring vision, he swore he could make out a pair of fancy dress shoes a little bit behind the girl. He saw the girl drop to her knees and cover her ears, his vision went black and the sound of static accompanied the darkness.

---

Jack was expecting to be dead. He expected to be accompanied by beautiful white light, maybe an angel or something. However, it caught him very off guard when he suddenly awoke in a rather plush bed. He threw the plaid covers off himself unceremoniously and moved to swing his legs over the side of the bed. The baby god never got far because he let out a howl of pain as a sharp sensation traveled up his thigh. Shit right, his entire upper thigh was practically ripped open. He forgot all about that, glancing down at his wound he noticed it was wrapped tightly in medical bandages and he assumed it was stitched up underneath the dressings. Whoever fixed the wound seemed to have done at least a semi-decent job, at least he wasn’t dead. Sniffing the air with his newly acquired sense of smell he could make out the distinct smell of humans and...was that lavender?

Jack felt his stomach growl and he doubled over clutching it. They smelled delicious. He could practically hear their organs singing out to him, rip open the human, steal us, devour us.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the door opening, in the middle of the doorway stood the exact girl he’d seen in the forest. Immediately going on the defense he bared his teeth opening his jaw as wide as he could, he heard the popping sound of his jaw as it extended, he felt something swirl around in his mouth. He felt a chill run down his spine at the unwelcomed sensation.

Did he have more than one tongue?

Shaking the thought away Jack didn’t move to attack, he was never the type. He would always rather listen to rationality before getting his hands dirty, the only issue was he was starving and the girl would absolutely make a fine meal.

“Don’t try demon.” The girl scoffed eyeing Jack up and down, if he was still his old college self he would’ve gotten flustered at the gesture. A girl showing him attention? Unheard of back them. However, after Jenny, he was almost positive he’d never let that happen again. His sockets looked down at what the girl held in her hands, it was a plate, a plate that had kidneys on top of it. He was only mildly aware of the fact that he was drooling all over himself. “Oh gross.” She scrunched up her nose placing the organs on the bottom of the bed.

Without hesitation, Jack attacked the cold meat shoving it in his mouth with vigor. He knew blood was all over his face and hands but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Jack knew the girl’s calculated eyes were watching his every move, even so, he couldn’t help but let out a groan of pleasure as the food slid down his throat. Once the meal was finished and Jack was satisfied he finally felt he had enough strength to start asking questions.

“Who are you?” He rasped, whipping his mouth with the back of what was left of his sleeve.

“Really? You’re asking ME that question.”

“I’m not a fan of your attitude.”

“I’m not a fan of you bleeding out on my property.”

Jack growled low and guttural.

“Don’t make me hurt you.” The girl had the audacity to laugh in his face was she not aware of what he was capable of now?

“Nice try but I’m not scared of you. You’re not allowed to hurt me as long as you’re under my care.” She pointed to herself with her thumb, puffing out her chest a little however he could hear her pulse increase just the slightest bit.

Jack only scowled.

“What pray tell is exactly stopping me?” He raised an eyebrow watching carefully as the girl lifted up her sleeve to her sweater. Scared into her wrist was a symbol that Jack had never seen before in his life, but for some unknown reason, he felt dread wash over him. Carved into her wrist was an O with an X slashed through it. “What’s that supposed to prove exactly? That you’re into weird tattoos?”

The (h/c)-ette let out a loud sigh like this conversation was boring her. Oh he’s sorry it’s not his fault he was turned into a fucking organ-eating monster by a cult at his local college! If he still had his eyes they would be rolling so far back into his skull, yet he still waited for the girl to explain.

“My name is (y/n), I’m a medical proxy under The Operator. Currently one of the only ones he has left because we keep getting killed off by rogue killers.” The girl, (y/n), clicked her tongue in clear distaste at the mention of said killers. “Since I’m under The Operator it means if you kill me, he’ll kill you, that’s the deal Jacky boy.” That put him on high alert.

“How the fuck do you know my name?”

“You’re certainly full of questions for someone just waking up out of a coma. If you must know The Operator gave me a brief rundown of your file after we found you in the woods.” (Y/n) crossed her arms over her chest “It’s your lucky day because you just got hired to work for him.” She gave him a round of applause, but it sounded more mocking than serious and he only grew more confused.

“This doesn't make any sense to me. I hope you’re aware.”

“I’m sure it isn’t. It’ll all be explained in due time. For now, all you have to focus on is getting better so you can begin your training. Lucky for you, I’m your registered nurse and caregiver, so enjoy your stay at castle de la (Y/n). Trust me when I say you should value your time here while you still have it.” A thousand more questions ran through Jack’s mind and his little question and answer session with his self-proclaimed nurse didn’t really help.

“So you’re a med student then?” She made a noise of affirmation picking at the strings of her sweater.

“Was a med student Jack, that pretty much came to a screeching halt after I was scouted by the boss man. That, however,” He watched as (Y/n) put a hand to her lips signaling him to stop asking questions, “Is a story for another day. The first order of business now that you’ve eaten is a shower. Cause no offense but you smell like dried blood, and coming from me that’s saying something cause I smell blood all the time.”

Jack still didn’t trust this stranger fully and it got under his skin that she seemed to know everything about him and he knew next to nothing about her. Yet, a shower did seem nice at this moment, he glanced down at his hands and noticed his nails were caked with dry blood. He could only imagine what every other part of his body looked like, (y/n) clearly didn’t bother cleaning him up aside from dressing his wounds.

“A shower sounds good.” Jack nodded in confirmation and the girl gave a relieved smile.

“Oh thank God you agreed, it took me a week of convincing to get Jeff to go take his first shower.” Jack decided it was best not to ask who Jeff was deciding that that was a can of worms he shouldn’t open just yet. She reached out to touch him and he immediately recoiled back almost biting her handoff, the smile that appeared disappeared into a frown.

“Don’t touch me.” Memories of Jenny’s friends holding him down while he pleaded for his life flashed across his mind. The blade coming closer and closer to Jack’s crystal blue eyes before making contact and-

“Alright, cannibal boy snap out of it. Can’t have you succumbing to blood lust just yet. You don’t wanna injure yourself more.” (Y/n) snapped her fingers next to his ears and he couldn’t help but feel a little grateful that she snapped him out of his stupor. “I was going to help you to the bathroom because you really shouldn’t put pressure on your leg. Is that okay?”

Jack felt himself nodding reluctantly. She was right, he really shouldn’t put stress on his leg or it could cause more harm than good. Especially since he didn’t know the extent of the injury yet, for all he knew he was lucky they didn’t hit the femoral artery. Her arms went around his waist as the god and the human girl hobbled to the bathroom together. On the short walk there Jack was trying to get a feel of the house, in case he needed to make a grand escape in the future.

“I’ll put some fresh clothes outside the door for you, call for me when you’re done so I can help you back to the bedroom.” (Y/n) explained as Jack hobbled into the bathroom, he didn’t feel the need to respond to her as he shut the door in her face. He heard a faint click of a tongue from the other side of the door and listened to the girls retreating footsteps.

Jack leaned against the sink putting most of his weight on his hands. The sink creaked at the newfound pressure and Jack wasn’t sure it was because it was an old house or because he had newfound strength. He glanced up at the mirror, it was weird somewhat seeing when you had absolutely no eyes. It was the first time since the incident he got a good look at himself, he looked about as good as he felt.

Terrible.

His auburn hair curled around his now pointed ears and was caked in mud and dirt. He was almost grateful that (y/n) didn’t touch him aside from the wound while he was unconscious, Jack couldn’t imagine what he might’ve done if he felt anyone go near his face. Speaking of his face, he opened his mouth and saw his teeth were shaved into razor-sharp fangs. His stomach turned as he remembered the exact reason why they were like that, organs. They were like that so he could eat organs. The thought wasn’t nearly as nauseating as it should’ve been.

His skin was unnatural and sickly grey color, as he lifted up his shirt the color seemed to spread all the way down his body. He glanced down at his hands and saw his nails were long and black, almost like those girls who wore acrylics, except he was sure their nails couldn’t rip into people's chests with a single swipe. Continuing down his body he lifted up one of his padded feet, he was correct in his assumption from earlier. They were much more animal-like, he wondered if they made him faster, what purpose could they possibly serve other than that?

Gently letting his footfall back down on the floor he shuffled to the shower and turned it on, the water sprayed out in a burst and he patiently waited for it to heat up. Eventually, he was able to step inside, not before knocking his head not only against the curtain rod but also on the showerhead.

“Fuck!” He snarled glaring down at the showerhead. Jack did a little double-take, okay he was also super tall, at least he got one blessing out of whatever the fuck was happening. Jack had to kneel on the ground in order to let the water roll down his body, with a deep breath he enjoyed the warm water pelting his skin. He fumbled around with the shampoo trying to figure out how to open it without popping a hole in the container. As the lid popped open he was hit with the calming scent of lavender.

~~~

“We’ll send someone to come back and check on him in about a month give or take, see how he’s adjusting and healing.” A figure spoke from the kitchen shaking a cigarette into an ashtray, as (y/n) stood across from him. The man ran a hand through his messy brown hair “Then we’ll reassess him, give him a test and see if he’s fit to come to the mansion.” Meanwhile, the girl heaved a sigh of her own and leaned against the cool tiles of her kitchen wall.

“So it’s gonna be my responsibility to explain everything that’s happening to him? Isn’t that supposed to be your job Tim?” (y/n) raised an eyebrow “You realize he’s, like, almost seven feet tall, has no eyes and eats organs right? I’m not even sure WHAT he is.” She muttered, “The rundown I got really only gave me his background and his clear trauma.”

Tim clicked his tongue like the girl in front of him was wasting his time, it made her ball up her fists subconsciously.

God, the main proxies really got on her fucking nerves sometimes.

“You won’t have to worry about that, The Operator will handle all of that throughout the coming weeks. No need to worry. You also don’t need to worry about harvesting organs for him, and hopefully, once he’s healed he’ll work on doing that himself. But for now, someone on a kill close by will be dropping off organs.” Tim’s nose scrunched up a little and the (h/c)-nette’s did the same, she normally prided herself on her strong stomach, but this was a lot even for her. “The only thing you have to do is monitor his eating, see how much he will need on a weekly basis, and obviously keep him alive.”

“Obviously.” They both seemed to have a mutual understanding about that at least, she fucks up and he dies they’re both in deep shit with The Operator. Tim reached to the side where his porcelain mask sat against the countertop.

“Don’t fuck it up.” He pointed to her before slipping out the door leaving the women alone with an organ-eating monster. (Y/n) mimicked ‘don’t fuck it up' in a nasal voice before kicking off the wall and heading back in the direction of her guest's room, she pulled out a pair of crutches from the closet and rested them by the bedside. She gently scratched at the faintly buzzing symbol on her wrist, this is going to be a long month.

[goatbi]

Vampiric

It's common knowledge across the Soul Society that your zanpakuto has an effect on you. Be it physical or mental, it's a part of you, and it effects how you live.

Hitsugaya and Rukia are two good examples, both being very cold to the touch, while Hitsugaya has ice scales down his back, along the edges of his cheekbones. Rukia has nothing physical yet, but she swears that it's going to happen as soon as she reaches bankai.

Sometimes you zanpakuto tells you those things.

Momo is burning hot to the touch, fever-like. Matsumoto seems to always have dry skin, no matter how much lotion she uses. Kurotsuchi has weird neck spikes that he switches on if he wants to hide or not ever other season.

You zanpakuto changes you as you learn more about it, as your bond grows, in many many ways.

Yumichika knows this, and knows it well. He's come to live in the burning hunger in the pit of his stomach as he goes about his life, that no food can really fill. Ruri'iro Kujaku hungers with him, and Yumichika smothers it down, pretends that he's fine, pretends the feathers are the only connection between him and his zanpakuto, and starves.

He's starving and he knows it.

It's not a pretty way to go out.

It's why he attacks Hisagi, that's why, he says it to himself again and again, that's the only reason. It's been so long since he's fed, and Yumichika is so hungry.

He's okay afterwards, he tells himself, and keeps moving forwards after the single bought of delicious spiritual energy that he so desperately requires. Yumichika keeps going, and pretends his stomach doesn't hurt even more now that he's fed once, that he's okay.

Ikkaku comments that he looks kind of tired one day, and Yumichika panics. Ikkaku apologies, of course, but he just thinks it's because Yumichika's vain, but that's not it.

Because Yumichika is. He's so tired, and he's just so hungry, it doesn't matter.

He goes to the world of the living alone a week later. Hollows have spiritual energy, not much in comparison to soul reapers, and it's bitter and burning, but it's something, and Yumichika doesn't want to starve anymore. Not until Ikkaku comes looking for him, which won't happen for at least three days. Ikkaku's gonna look for him, but won't think about the World of the Living until then.

So he hunts. Ruri'iro Kujaku purrs in the back of his mind, praises him and apologies all in the same breath, because despite their arguing, his zanpakuto understands why Yumichika hides. His hunger is so ugly, and Ruri'iro Kujaku is just as vain as Yumichika is.

Hollows fall to his vines and Yumichika gorges himself, and is so busy with it that he doesn't notice the Arrancar until far too late.

When he wakes up again, Yumichika isn't hungry. It's strange, but that leaves him able to focus on other, more important things, like that fact that it's night, that he's locked in white stone, and hidden away. His zanpakuto is gone, and Ruri'iro Kujaku growls in the back of his mind.

He's the only company Yumichika gets for awhile. He doesn't know how long, not completely sure, but he's hungry again, both ways that his body is, he's starving once more, and it's so tiring, it's exhausting to continue.

Aizen just smiles at him from the door, and Yumichika would spit if he didn't have his mind, if he wasn't still somewhat worried about how he looked in that moment.

This is how he learns Aizen's spiritual energy is immense, and oh so delicious. He hates being fed like this, but he's not hungry, he's kept full like a stuffed peacock and Yumichika begins to fall into it, fall behind Aizen, because no one hear questions the cannibalism esc feedings, because they're all hollows, they don't care, and Yumichika is just so hungry, even when he's not, because it's been so long since he's been able to eat this much this often, and he knows it's bad and that he has places to be, people that care for him, but Aizen keeps him fed.

Aizen keeps him fed and full until he doesn't, until Yumichika's locked away again and starving, he doesn't know how long, just knows Ruri'iro Kujaku is pissed and cawing out in his mind, and Yumichika's too far gone to care anymore, and he mimics it, mimics the noise laying on the floor of his cell as he starves again, staring with hazy eyes out the barred window. He's so hungry.

He doesn't know when the door opens. He just knows it is, knows and he crawls. It's ugly, and dirty but Ruri'iro Kujaku purrs and calls him to continue, louder and louder as Yumichika gets closer and closer, and he knows he's close, he can feel his zanpakuto vibrating, and his hands closes around the hilt and-

Shikai comes, unbidden, no call. He doesn't know why, but it's fine, he's so hungry, and the little Arrancar fall to his vines in seconds, the little ones he leaves drained, and probably close to death, and he stumbles along, because Aizen kept him fed up with his own energy, and it's not enough.

The little ones keep falling as he stumbles towards an energy he recognizes but can't place, he's too hungry to know, not until his vines wrap around someone already fighting, dragging them close to him, and Yumichika is basically eating the flowers off the vines as they bloom, and Ikkakus's voice comes slamming through his haze of hunger.

"What the fuck?"

Yumichika's eyes dart towards him, wide and terrified, and the vines go off, leaving flowers floating in the air around him, an Yumichika is so hungry, but he's staring down Ikkaku and the captain behind him, staring them down because they know now, don't they, and he's almost hungry enough not to care, but Ikkaku's looking at his vines, and Ruri'iro Kujaku wraps them up into a blade again for him, and Yumichika blinks at them, so so hungry still, but so so afraid that it doesn't matter.

"Yumichika?" Ikkaku's voice is almost quiet, but it's Ikkaku, and he's not really quiet. He's just... shocked. Not yelling for once, and Yumichika stares at him, shaking, and closes his eyes. He doesn't make a noise, doesn't say anything, but lets himself fall to his knees in front of the three, because he knows that Yachiru is clinging to Kenpachi's back as she does, and god they all smell so good, but Yumichika can't, not right now, not when it would be deliberate, instead of starving induced.

Ikkaku's arms are around him, Yumichika knows, but he just leans into it, leans into what might be the last comfort from his friend that he will ever get, and slips off into oblivion. The hunger burns, even in the dark.

---------------

The ceiling of Squad Four is bright white, a clean bleached white that Yumichika stares at in the middle of the day. He does not move, for he feels there is no reason. Ruri'iro Kujaku is silent in his mind, and it's a comfort and a burden at once, because it means the peacock has no comfort to give.

Ikkaku is outside. Yumichika closes his eyes, wants to pretend to sleep so that Ikkaku won't come in, won't see him. The hunger hurts again, but Yumichika ignores it. He's hungry, but he's trying to get used to it again, because he's never doing that again. Ruri'iro Kujaku gives no argument, just silence, and Yumichika hates it, because they both know it's a death sentence, but Yumichika thinks he deserves it.

"He's awake, but probably still tired. We haven't gotten him to... eat... this entire time." Lieutenant Isane is kind around the word, but it still burns in his soul, and Yumichika opens his eyes gain, since there's no use hiding now that she's given him away.

Ikkaku opens the door, and Yumichika does not, cannot, look at him, just keeps staring at that ceiling, and lets the hunger burn. Ikkaku has always smelled of spice and burning, and Yumichika has always wanted to know what he tastes like, but he won't. He can't.

A chair scratches against the floor as Ikkaku sits next to him, and Yumichika does not sigh, but he feels like it, feels the breath in him sit heavy, because he's so tired and so hungry.

"Why did you lie?"

It's a quiet question, as quiet as Ikkaku can be, and Yumichika closes his eyes again, squints them shut as tight as he can, and he knows it's an ugly expression, but he doesn't care anymore. Ikkaku has already seen him at his ugliest. It doesn't matter anymore.

Ruri'iro Kujaku purrs in the back of his mind, an attempted comfort, and Yumichika doesn't snap at him, no matter how he feels he wants to.

"Because I was afraid." It's the only answer that Yumichika can give.

"Of what?" Ikkaku's voice shakes, and Yumichika can feel the anger behind it. He doesn't open his eyes, ignore the tears leaking out the corners of his eyes.

"Of the Captain kicking me out of the Squad. Of the Soul Society hating me for what I am... Of being unable, rather than unwilling, to eat... Of you hating me." His voice gets quiet on the last one, and he turns his head away, because he's so sure it's going to happen, he's so sure of the anger, and hatred and-

"Bull fucking shit."

Yumichika turns, eyes wide, betrayed. Who is Ikkaku to tell him his own fears, how can he- and Yumichika pauses, because Ikkaku's teary-eyed too.

"You kept my secret, I would have kept yours. In a heart beat. Besides, if you're kicked out, I go with you, no matter what. It's been the two of us together this entire time, and you've been literally killing yourself to hide it from me because you're scared that that's gonna change?"

Yumichika pushes himself up, ignored the vertigo and the lurch in his stomach. "It's squad eleven, Ikkaku, I've heard what they say about kido users, about people with kido zanpakuto's, what cowards we are, that we can't even fight right. I know what they say, and no one says anything to stop it, or defend it. I starve because I know I will be shunned for existing like I do because of Ruri'iro Kujaku."

If Ikkaku's shocked at the real name of his zanpakuto, he doesn't show it, because he's too angry-worried. "So you decided to just die off? I know you, that's not a pretty way to go, and that's not the way that you've told me you want to go out."

"What else am I supposed to do in the face of that much hatred?" Yumichika asks, shaking and upset, but never at Ikkaku. He's upset at himself, as always, because he doubted Ikkaku, and now that's going to drive them apart, because Ikkaku hates being doubted.

"Turn to me! I'm not gonna just up and leave you, Yumi, not even now." And Yumichika looks up, must look socked, because Ikkaku huffs, and shakes his head. "Even now. You're my best friend, and I'm not gonna fucking abandon you because you zanpakuto is what it is. That's not gonna change, and I'd be stupid to when you keep my secrets."

Yumichika stares for a moment, before he slings his legs off the side of the bed, and collapses into Ikkaku's arms, shaking and so tired and hungry, but Ikkaku's there, he should have been since the beginning, and Ikkaku wraps him up in his arms and ignores the soft sobbing. Yumichika is not a pretty crier, and Ikkaku knows better by now.

Eventually, they have to separate, eventually Yumichika has to sit back in bed, because the hunger-vertigo hurts now, and he's too dehydrated to cry anymore. He knows he's ugly right now, face red and puffy and snotty, but Ikkaku doesn't comment on it, just smiles at him, and Yumichika smiles back, and wraps himself up in the blanket as Unahana comes in, eyes soft.

"I suppose that you're finally convinced?"

Yumichika knows what the captain means, but it's still terrifying, but he looks to Ikkaku, who doesn't blink, and Ruri'iro Kujaku purrs behind his ears, and Yumichika nods slowly, because the hunger hurts as it always has, and he's so tired of pain.

His zanpakuto sits in his lap when he does it, whispers the activation, watches the vines live and curl around him, but one, which reaches out and wraps up Unahana's arm, and leeches. She raises an eyebrow at him, and Yumichika shrugs.

"I figure... Get some now to get me out of here, then get some from my Captain... always wanted to know what he tastes like, and it seems like this might be my last chance before I'm forced to change squads, so... hopefully..."

Ikkaku says nothing but narrows his eyes at him, and Unahana smiles her kind smile at him.

They don't explode, because Yumichika does not want to hurt, but the flowers fall, and the vine pulls away when his lap is full of them, and reforms into a blade, and Yumichika picks up the flowers carefully, and eats.

She's like mint, but strong, far too strong, almost burning. It feels right, for her, and Yumichika eats almost too quickly, but refuses to allow the shame to replace the hunger. He's still hungry, but it's secondary now.

"How often do you need to eat?" She asks, and Yumichika hums, turns the question inwards, and Ruri'iro Kujaku answers for him.

"Once a week should be alright. This isn't like a normal hunger. I could even stretch it to once a month. I'm... rather used to the hunger."

Unahana nods, but something in her eyes tells him he's not going to get to push it.

She lets him go an hour later, and Yumichika walks out with Ikkaku at his side, and he feels small and too big at the same time, expects stares but doesn't get any, and he's waiting for the hammer to fall, before Ikkaku sighs.

"We didn't tell anyone." Yumichika looks over, and Ikkaku doesn't look to him, leading him out towards the barracks, towards Kenpachi's room. "Figured that should be your choice."

He nods slightly, and Ikkaku pushes open the door, doesn't bother to knock, just calls into the room, and Yumichika follows, tired and still hungry, but worried. Scared.

But Yachiru jumps on him, clings for a moment, and Yumichika hugs her tight back, because she doesn't know how to express the worry of losing someone, and Yumichika does what he can for her in that moment, before turning to face the captain, settled at his table.

His bells are out, scattered in front of him, and Yachiru bounces back over to help him put them back into his hair. Yumichika takes a breath, and moves over to sit in front of him, and stares him down, prepared to lose his life.

But Kenpachi just huffs, glares at him and goes "Don't die cause you're starving yourself, dumbass."

Yumichika bristles a bit at that, but accepts it. It's a correct statement, something understandable, and then Kenpachi tilts his head to let Yachiru fix a bell, and stares Yumichika down.

"When you gotta eat?"

He doesn't pretend it doesn't shock him, lets his eyes widen a bit, before looking towards Ikkaku nervously, letting the answer tumble out without thinking. He's hungry still, of course, but it's managable, and he can pretend-

"Unahana gave him some earlier, but he's stupid and didn't take enough I think." Ikkaku says, and Yumichika glares at him, before Yachiru bounces back across the table to smack him on the forehead.

"That's dumb! You gotta eat, you know!" And Yumichika stares at her, before Kenpachi leans forwards.

"Take what you need, and then you and I are gonna have a talk."

Yumichika's terrified of what that means, but he feels the order in his soul, and thus sighs.

Kenpachi tastes like burning and fire and spice, and Yumichika closes his eyes as he chews carefully on the flowers in his lap, the stabbing hunger pains ebbing away as he munches on the flowers, and Kenpachi leans back.

"So once a week, huh?"

"Doesn't have to be you." Yumichika mumbles around a flower. "But yeah..."

"And you hid it because?"

Yumichika fixes him with a look. "Captain, you're not deaf or stupid. You know how this Squad feels about kido."

Kenpachi blinks at him, then grins, because it's sass, and it's coming back, and Yumichika knows that's a good thing in their eyes. "Well, they say shit they can come talk to me. You're strong as hell without using your actual shikai, so what's the problem with you getting stronger?"

He has to give the captain that, so he doesn't reply, just looks back down to his flowers in his lap, and lets himself hope. Because he's not being kicked out. He's not being shamed, and he's not going to be so hungry all the time.

Ikkaku settles at his side, leaning against him, nudges his arm to keep munching on the flowers, that have always been so pretty, but now Yumichika can appreciate the beauty of them.

"So. How does that sword of yours work?" Kenpachi asks, and Yachiru grins at him, and Yumichika pops another flower in his mouth, and starts to explain, as the hunger finally ebbs away completely.

[bookwermthings]

28 “Stand behind me” with Jack and Gwen or Jack and Owen

“Stand behind me.”

“Really, Jack, I can handle myself.”

“I mean it. They have issues with me, as long as you stay out of their way, you’ll be fine.”

One of the strict looking ladies, looking like she was dressed for Victorian England, glanced their way. And then she didn’t stop. She stared at them, first at Jack, then at Owen, with a horrifying lack of emotion. Just vague interest. A smile flitted across her lips.

Then the other one stopped surveying her surroundings. She walked over, joining the brunette in looking at them.

Owen, still not standing behind Jack, noticed as Jack began to smile at them. It was a smile carefully crafted, so as not to show anything, worn by decades of practice.

“Hello, ladies. I see you’re in the wrong time.”

“Yes, we’d noticed. Although, strangely, you’re still here.”

Careful smile still in place, Jack said, “Yes, yes I am.”

Owen couldn’t stand to the side and do nothing any longer. “Hold on, who are you?”

They looked at him curiously. 

The blond one answered. “Torchwood.”

“You are? What year?”

"What business is it of yours?"

"*I'm* Torchwood. Right here, right now."

They looked him over. The other one spoke. "You don't look it."

That was rude. He was every bit Torchwood as they were, if not more. 

"Well, I am. Did the Rift spit you out?"

"Apparently so... I suppose it couldn't hurt to answer your question. I am Alice Guppy, and this is Emily Holroyd. We just came from 1903, where Harkness here was having a rather fun time with some Weevils." Her teeth were like a shark's. "What year is this?"

"2008."

Alice nodded, satisfied. Then she continued,looking at Jack, "I see we must have beat some loyalty into you at some point, then."

Hold on, they beat him?

Owen was about to open his mouth, to say what, he didn't know, but Jack got there first.

"I don't think it had anything to do with you. Now, do you have a plan to get back?"

“I’d rather like to speak to the Torchwood head at the moment. I’m sure things will go much easier if we could just speak to them and not the underlings.”

“I’m sorry, if you’re looking for the head of Torchwood, that would be me.”

Alice looked like she was about to spit fire. “Who let you be in charge?”

“Well, when you’ve been around as long as I have…”

“The incompetent bastards. They should have known to set up protocols in case this happened.”

“We could set them ourselves,” said Emily.

“And create a paradox? No, we’ll just have to do what we can before we find our way back and hope it sticks.”

"I'm right here, you know." Jack spoke, an exasperated undercurrent running through his words.

Ignoring him, they spoke to Owen. 

“Have you learned how to track the movements of the Rift by this point?” Emily asked. “We believe there may be a Rift sighting sometime soon connecting to two days before we left.”

Owen found these women strange and frankly very rude, possibly even abusive, the more he was around them. They treated Jack like he was worth less than the dirt on their shoes, and barely treated Owen any better.

He grimaced. These were Torchwood operatives, no matter how strange they were or how much he wanted to punch them.

“Yes, we can track and predict Rift spikes. I’ll have Tosh get on finding you one that might get you home.”

Alice tutted. “We’ll come back with you, in your vehicle, and oversee the process. I can’t imagine how low Torchwood must have fallen under Harkness’ leadership.”

Jack visibly gritted his teeth, and held his hands together behind his back.

“This way, then.”

As he strode back to the SUV, Owen swore he could see Jack’s shoulders shaking.

The two Victorian era Torchwood women looked over everything in the Hub. They peered over Tosh’s shoulder as she sorted through predicted Rift activity, ordered Owen and Ianto around, and stared curiously at Gwen. They showed their intense hatred for Jack being the leader of Torchwood anytime it came up, and multiple times it didn’t. For the most part, Owen tried to ignore them. They were going to be gone soon enough, and he didn’t want them holding a grudge against him, no matter if they were stuck in the 1900s or not. They seemed like they would know how to get him back even if he was across the galaxy, two million years in the future. But crossing them was still so very tempting. For all that Owen bitched about having Jack as a boss, he was good at it. He didn’t deserve to be talked down to or talked about like this. 

Then it was time for dinner.

Owen, as always since he had died, simply sat there and talked with the others. But to Alice, this was apparently suspicious.

“Don’t you people eat in 2008?”

Owen just had to snark,”Well, typically we do, but I’m trying to turn inside out with hunger pains.”

At their unmoved glances, he ran a hand through his hair. “No, I’m dead.”

Now this got their attention.

Emily had a gleam in her eye. “Dead? In what fashion?”

“I’d show you, but I doubt you’d want to see. I have a bullet hole in my chest. My heart is stopped. I don’t need to breathe. I don’t sleep, I don’t eat, I can’t heal. I’m certifiably dead. One of the artifacts we have brought me back, and now I’m stuck this way.”

“Interesting.”

Later, he found them staring at him and whispering. It sent shivers down his spine. He was glad in the end, that Emily looked disappointed. They wouldn’t be taking him into any labs and experimenting on him. Not today.

Fortunately, they found a Rift spike within a day of them arriving here. Alice and Emily went through it and he didn’t look back. Owen didn’t care if it was luck, or what. He was just glad they were gone.

What the hell had they done to Jack, so far in the past, that he was scared of them even now? They were gone, and he was still shaking.

Jack had hidden in his office for most of the time that they were here, only coming out when it was absolutely necessary. Owen had no idea how he was taking it.

But now? He and Jack were the only ones who had met Alice and Emily, and they had taken it upon themselves to be the ones to make sure they left. Now they were in an alleyway somewhere at the west end of Cardiff, and Jack was…?

Jack was slid to the ground against the brick wall, sobbing.

Owen walked over to him awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“Jack? Jack, what’s wrong?”

“S-sorry, don’t mind me. Just go back without me.”

“You know I’m not doing that. Was it Alice?”

Jack continued to sob, and Owen crouched down beside him.

This was such a new situation. He’d never seen Jack cry like this, so open and vulnerably.

“Jack, it’s alright. They’re gone now.”

Jack looked him in the eyes. “No, they’re not. Every day I spent with them, every death I suffered at their hands, every nightmare I’ve ever had, that’s what they are. They’re not gone. When they died, I thought I was free of them. But then, they pop up here, a century. They could do it again. I’ll never be free.” 

“Oh, Jack.” Owen sat next to him on the brick wall. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was so bad for you, being around them.” At Jack’s incredulous look, he continued , “I don’t know… think of the odds. I know, probably not helpful for an irrational fear like this, but how likely is it that they will find another piece of the Rift that takes them to exactly when and where you are?”

“Yeah, not helping.” He sniffed, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. You’ve been through a lot. It’s not going to all go away just because you try not to think about it.”

More tears slid down Jack’s face.

“That doesn’t stop me from wanting it to work that way.”

“No. It doesn’t. I have to ask though, have you ever thought of hiring a Torchwood therapist? I mean, it’s basically one of the requirements to be fucked up in the head.”

“Maybe someday.” Owen took this to mean probably never. It was worth a shot. 

Jack was practically curled up in on himself at this point.

He was still shaking.

The memories must be hard. And Alice and Emily showing up? No wonder he hadn’t broken down like this hours ago.

Carefully, Owen laid an arm over Jack’s shoulders.

“It’s alright. They’re not here right now. It’s just me. Just me.”

It may not have been alright, but he was there, and damned if he wasn’t going to do something about Jack hurting.

Slowly, Jack relaxed into the touch, and the shaking slowed. Owen pulled him the rest of the way into the embrace, and rocked with him. Back and forth, back and forth.

 “Thank you.”

[concealeddarkness13]

WHG 16 Sentiment and Attachment Part 7

This is four days after the end of the Hunger Games. Tagging the heist crew! @ratracechronicler, @maple-writes (also thanks for Indigo and Sasha!), @pen-of-roses, @onmywaytobe, @knmartinshouldbewriting, and @wrenlaw!

I was sent back to the scientists the next day, and they continued hurting me, explaining at one point that they were trying to get me to have some kind of emotional response. They hit me with rods over the bruises that were still there and cut me with knives, and I already started crying from the pain. It was just so much. Why did it matter so much that I didn’t have an emotional response anymore?

They shocked me, and I screamed, and Lexi wrote some notes down, but before she could order them to do something else, the door to the lab opened, and someone walked in. I looked up, and Indigo was glaring at Lexi. I just let my head fall back down. Why was she upset?

“What the hell is going on here?”

Tears were blurring my vision, and I didn’t want to look up again. Lexi spoke next. “Dr. Carmine. Good to see you.” Sounded pretty sarcastic. “We’re doing experiments on an escaped specimen.”

“Shut it down. Now. This is unacceptable.”

There was a pause, and then Lexi laughed. “These aren’t your technicians, Dr. Carmine. You have no right to order them around.”

“This is my lab, Lexi, and what you are doing is a disgrace.” There was a pause. Why did she care? I didn’t understand. “Stop them or I will.”

The door opened again, and I looked up enough to see Maisa before I flinched a little and looked away again. Would Maisa hurt her for objecting? “I’m the one in charge of this project, Dr. Carmine. Could you tell me what is the problem?” He actually sounded concerned.

Lexi turned back to the other scientists, and she gestured for them to continue. One of the scientists pulled up a dark blue liquid, and she injected it into my leg, and I screamed as pain burned like fire as it travelled through my body. Tears streaked down my cheeks from the pain.

My ears were ringing, my vision blurred not because of tears, and I was feeling nauseous. They injected something else in me that hurt but not as bad, and the nausea went away. It hurt to even blink. Indigo’s voice came as if from far away. “None of this is ethical and I will not allow this to happen in my own lab.” Pause. “There is no need for this.”

I blinked a few times, heard Maisa say something I couldn’t process, and next thing I knew, the scientists weren’t there anymore, and Indigo was closer to me, writing something on her phone. She still sounded far away when she spoke, but I forced myself to focus on her. “I’m going to undo the restraints, but before I do I’m going to have someone give you something for the pain and it will likely come in a needle and I know you don’t like those.”

I coughed out some smoke, which made me hurt worse, and tears were still streaking down my cheeks. “I…don’t really feel that emotion anymore.”

She moved away from me, and I didn’t look up to watch her because that would hurt. She walked back and leaned over me, wiping the tears from my face. Why? “I know, but I would rather be cautious.”

I looked away. Why? “Why did you stop them?”

“Because it’s sick,” she growled. “I’m willing to bet this isn’t motivated by any need for research. They just wanted an excuse to hurt you for their own egos.”

That wasn’t even a risky bet. “Well yeah.” I coughed up some more smoke. “That’s what they do. I’m used to it.” I paused, remembering how she had talked about ethical care, as she put it. “That’s why you were so confusing before.”

“You shouldn’t be.” She started trying to clean some of my wounds, and I had to keep myself from flinching from the spike of pain. “And I don’t want it happening here. I don’t care how many times I have to stop them or how many fucked up techs I have to fire, this is the one damned place I can try and keep right and I don’t intend to stop.”

Wow. Possibly a scientist I could agree with a bit. I blinked. “You’re weird.”

“If you say so.” She looked up, and I looked up a little to see another woman walk in, looking shocked. But the pain became too much, and I let my head fall again, so I couldn’t see her. Indigo looked over at her. “This is Sasha. Try to hold still for her.”

Sasha walked into my sight with a needle, and there was a slight flicker of fear that passed through my head before it was gone. I nodded at Indigo’s suggestion, and I didn’t move as she injected whatever was in that needle into me. It didn’t hurt, so that was a plus.

Sasha looked over at Indigo once she was done. “What happened?” she whispered.

Indigo scowled as she worked on undoing the restraints, and I couldn’t help but tense at her expression. Was she angry at me? But she just responded to Sasha. “You know Maisa? He’s set someone called Lexi up on some kind of ‘project’ as an excuse to torture her.” She helped me sit up, and I winced at the pain. But it was starting to dull a little. “Help me move her.”

I just stayed quiet as Sasha helped Indigo stand me up. My legs were shaking, and the pain was spiking again. I wouldn’t be much help, but I tried as they started walking. Indigo looked over at me. “Do you know where they’re holding you? We’ll get you settled back there.”

I just mumbled instructions, and they brought me to my room. I nodded at the door. “This is it.”

Sasha opened the door, and they helped me walk in. Indigo looked around. “What the hell?”

I frowned. It was my room. “What?”

“Nevermind.” She glanced at Sasha. “Can you try and find some blankets, cushions, something to make it more comfortable. If anyone questions you tell them to talk to me.” Sasha nodded and left, and Indigo helped me sit down.

The pain was dulling more, and I was starting to feel tired. I looked around a bit, and it clicked. “Oh. If you’re talking about the furniture, I used it for a barricade for the door. And they didn’t like that. I wasn’t using it anyway. I burned my bed the first night anyway.” My lips twitched up at the memory. Maisa had been so annoyed.

Indigo sighed, sounding about as tired as I was feeling. “Of course you did.”

I stayed quiet, thinking. Indigo had confronted Maisa. It could be bad for her. I frowned. “You probably shouldn’t have helped me. They’ll probably take it out on you.”

“It’s only a matter of time.” What did that mean? She sighed, her shoulders dropping and her voice lowering. “If not them, and if not now, it’ll be someone else later.”

I didn’t understand. “But why make them pissed at you because of me?”

“I’m pretty sure many aren’t big fans of me already.” She shrugged. “Like I said. If not now then later.”

I frowned more. I wasn’t worth it though. “But…I don’t get it.”

“Don’t dwell on it.” She turned as the door opened again, and I tensed, but it was just Sasha coming in with blankets and pillows. She started making a nest over in one of the corners. “Looks good.” She glanced back over at me. “Don’t burn this.”

“If Maisa doesn’t come in the middle of the night and be a creep then I’ll be happy not to burn it.” He hadn’t the past few nights after the machine was installed, but I didn’t have a lot of hope that that would continue for a long time.

“I should have just shot him…” Indigo mumbled, and warmth bloomed in my chest. I wished she could shoot him. “I can’t stop you.”

I nodded, but I thought it would be good to warn her. “Don’t…try to shoot him. Please. His kind doesn’t really get hurt by physical attacks.”

Indigo rolled her eyes. “Fine. As long as you rest.”

A little bit of fear lingered as I walked over and settled into the blankets. But it was comfortable and warm, and I was so fucking tired. My eyes were already closing. “…Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She put a blanket over me. “I’ll come check on you tomorrow.”

Would Maisa actually let me rest until tomorrow? At this point, it didn’t matter. I was already relaxing. I nodded and tried to keep my eyes open. Indigo left, and Sasha waved before she left too. My eyes closed all the way, and I fell asleep immediately.

*

The door slammed open, and I immediately woke up and stared at Steve 4 as he sauntered in with a smug expression. I tensed. What was he going to do?

He grabbed my non-prosthetic arm and pulled me up, but at least the pain reliever was working because I only felt a small sting of pain. He pushed me forward. “You thought you could escape what the Capitol wanted from you? Well, you’re about to see what happens to people who try to help you.”

Naivi was frowning as she followed along behind us, but she helped him strap me down when we got to a room with the woman who had been hurting Warren a few days ago. What was going on? Were they going to hurt me or…or Indigo? Fear quickened my breathing and woke me completely up, and it wasn’t going away. I couldn’t let this happen.

The woman looked over at me as Steve 4 and Naivi left. She was holding a metal rod, similar to the one she used on me. “Good of you to make it.”

I just tried to slow down my breathing, but I couldn’t, and the fire was flaring up. Shit. The fear wasn’t going away. What was going on?

After a while, the door opened again, and…and Indigo walked in. She stopped and looked over at the woman. “Amber?”

She nodded at the door. “Close the door.”

No. What was going to happen? This wasn’t fair. It was my fault that she was even in trouble. They should be hurting me. “Wait, what’s going on?” I didn’t really expect a response. Indigo looked like she wasn’t surprised as she closed the door, but she didn’t say anything.

Amber paused. “There’s been talk in Umbra Ursi. They aren’t happy with you, Indigo.”

I just stared as Indigo spoke. “I see.” She swallowed. “Why is she here if this isn’t about her?” Huh? But it was. It was all my fault.

Amber paused. “It was a request. You’ve lost your touch Indigo. People notice your hesitations and your choices that lead to missed opportunities. You were once great but now your time is up.”

Indigo nodded. “I understand.”

What the fuck? I didn’t understand! How could she be so calm? I coughed up some smoke as my fire flared again. This…this was all my fault. I should have stopped her from helping me. “What the fuck is going on? If it’s because of me, I’m sorry. Don’t hurt her.” My voice cracked.

Amber poked the rod into my chest, and my chest tightened. “Quiet.” She turned back to Indigo. “You mean nothing to us now.” She hit Indigo, and with a loud crack, Indigo fell.

No. No, no, no. Why? Why did people fucking care about me? All I did was hurt people. It wasn’t safe for anyone to be close to me. The panic spiked, and I pushed against the restraints. “NO!” I started coughing more. “Please! Stop! Hurt me instead!” Tears streaked hot down my cheeks.

She just kept hitting Indigo. Blood hit the white floor, and I stared at it for a few seconds before I looked away and activated my magic. I could burn through the straps. I couldn’t let this happen without doing anything. I burned through the straps and ran for Amber to do something, anything, but someone grabbed me from behind and pulled me away as Amber paused and glanced over at me. As I was dragged out of the door, Amber kept beating her. I heard her cries as they kept dragging me away.

I stopped trying to struggle as tears streaked down my cheeks. The person who had grabbed me—Steve 4, it turned out—stopped moving and leaned so that his lips were inches from my ear. “That’s all your fucking fault. If she hadn’t helped you, she’d still be alive. She’s going to die, and it’s all your fucking fault.”

They were going to kill her. I squeezed my eyes shut, and Steve 4 held me closer, tighter, and brushed his lips over my cheek. He laughed. “Your tears taste so sweet, my dear.”

I deserved this. I hurt people. I couldn’t get close to anyone. I’d only hurt anyone I cared about.

“Fisker!” He jumped, still holding me tightly to him, but he looked around. Naivi stomped up and crossed her arms. “The scientists are waiting. What the fuck are you doing?”

He growled and pushed me toward Naivi, who snagged me with a tight grip, but she was still glaring at Steve 4. He whirled around and started walking, and Naivi pushed me calmly to get me to walk. I just kept crying. This was all my fault. I should have told Indigo to stop before she had helped me and died because of it.

They brought me to a room with scientists ready. Lexi looked over at me with interest as I walked in, and she smiled. “Looks like that machine isn’t holding back your emotions very well.” She snapped at the other scientists, and they got some machines ready as Steve 4 and Naivi strapped me down. They left the room as the scientists hooked up the machines. Lexi grinned. “You’ve broken it. At least partially broke the emotional side of it. You are such an interesting specimen, dear. I can’t wait to test you more.”

[dai-ou-sama]

Atsuhina; fluff fic. (Pt 1?)

Atsumu playing it off like he didn’t develop the biggest fucking crush on Hinata ever since the first day he saw him during Nationals, until he comes back from Brazil two years later and joins the black jackals, and really, he’s just helpless.

(So...my fingers slipped and this (which was based on this) turned into a pseudo-fic of Astumu falling in love with Hinata.)

((This is really just a fluff vomit.))

Atsumu’s first experience with a certain type of helplessness began with casual curiosity -  completely unbidden, and later, deeply regretted: “And also...who is that?”. In the grand scheme of things, in other words his twenty-two years of living, that can be considered an extremely miniscule moment, inconsequential almost, but really, that was the last moment he’d been free from years of confused pining and emotions his brain and pea-sized emotional range could barely comprehend. What came after, was the first ever match he played against Karasuno, and boy, did that roundhouse-kick him down the rabbit hole of feelings™.

Now, Atsumu had rarely given thought to things as trivial as feelings before Hinata, in fact, he had rarely given thought to anything at all. His thoughts had mostly consisted of: volleyball, how good playing volleyball felt, how good being a setter felt, how hungry he felt and how he could possibly fast-forward time to the next time he played good volleyball. When anything other than volleyball and hunger had cross his mind, like feelings, he had taken them in stride - because he was god damn Miya Atsumu - worldwide hotshot, mr-steal-yo-girl-and-guy, mr-anybody-who-can’t-hit-my-sets-suck-that’s-all-there-is-to-it. 

Exactly. Feelings were beneath him.

That is, until a certain ‘Shouyo-kun’ came along and hurled that routine cleanly out the window. 

That single match in his second year of high school had engraved the memory of Hinata into his mind, and like an idiot who didn’t understand what crushing on someone big-time felt like, he’d declared, “Shouyo-kun, I’ll toss to ‘ya one of these days.” A little promise more to himself than Hinata perhaps.

Yeah well, that went well. The year following that, he’d spent much of his volleyball and non-volleyball time thinking about how mesmerizing Hinata and Kageyama’s play had been. He’d been impressed - and annoyed - by the sheer improvement Kageyama had made in a matter of weeks since the training camp. There was even a certain level of admiration involved. His thoughts in training often returned to the bar the freak-pair had set, and it wasn’t false to say that they inspired him to push his limits with Osamu further; faster, freer, wilder.

But then, his thoughts often wandered off to wondering what it’d be like to have Shouyo-kun as his partner too. (He couldn’t really help it. After nationals, thinking about volleyball had always led to thinking about Hinata, and he was always thinking about volleyball.) He thought that about how fun it would be to jerk his opponents around on court using the monster that was Hinata. He thought about how fun it would be to have to keep up with someone else other than Osamu for once; that maybe that over-energetic ball of sunshine would drag him way beyond his current limits as a setter too; maybe he would force him to play volleyball ‘till he was sick of it, just so he could feel the thrill of falling in love with it all over again. (Was that a little masochistic?) If it was even possible, Hinata made his love for good volleyball burn even brighter. His passion had touched him; he had captivated him. 

Atsumu thought his heart raced every time he thought of Hinata because of the prospect of being able to play volleyball on a whole new level - the idiot.

But then Hinata had walked through the doors of the stadium for the Black Jackals tryouts three years later (after disappearing for two years and crushing Atsumu’s surprisingly fragile heart because he thought he’d never see Hinata again, causing him a lot of confused sleepless nights thinking about how he’d wished he’d gone to ask Hinata to play with him before he’d left) and you could say Atsumu had choked on his own breath. You could also say he was so stunned he’d frozen mid-step and dropped the ball he’d been tossing around, and froze for so long, Bokuto actually had enough time to bend in front him to ask if he had just been to Antartica. What would ‘ya have it, his spur of the moment declaration had proven true. He was going to toss to Hinata. Atsumu stared straight at the ground without looking up after that because his heart was beating abnormally fast and for some reason, he had lost control of his lips - he couldn’t stop them from pulling into a smile.

And my god, was it fun playing with Hinata. The months of training that followed after that fateful day made Atsumu feel as good as he had expected it to, even better in fact, because while he’d thought about all the new and experimental sets he would be able to make with Hinata, he hadn’t really thought about the wide smiles he would get in return for the good sets he made; or the excited high-fives they would have after each play; or the liberty he now had to bask in the warmth of Hinata’s body whenever he threw an arm over his shoulders and held him a little closer than he would have Bokuto or Sakusa (not that the latter ever let him close enough to really touch him at all).

It wasn’t just that too. Even if it wasn’t about his tosses, about how good it felt to have the little monster Hinata under his command, just watching him made his breath catch. How did anyone make him go crazy over volleyball more than he already did? Or maybe, he was just going crazy now.

Alright, so maybe he really liked the way “Atsumu-san” sounded from Hinata, and he almost always had an arm around his shoulders or waist when they were walking, and he called out “Shouyo” more than necessary just so Hinata would turn to meet his eyes in question with his head tilted, but that wasn’t really out of the ordinary for him. He was just more drawn to Hinata because he made his sets feel real good, and that made him feel good around him. Always.

Besides, lots of people were drawn to Hinata the same way he was. He was always surrounded by people - god knows where and how he became friends with all of them - and he was always laughing. They were always laughing because he was laughing. Even Sakusa tolerated his presence enough to take off his mask when he’s with him after training sometimes. And that’s exactly what Atsumu believed in, until Bokuto spoke up one day after practice when they’d been alone in the locker room.

“Man, for all the talk you have about us dancin’ to your tune, you sure are wrapped around Hinata’s little finger.”

Atsumu shrugged and continued packing his bag. “Well, Shouyo-kun is one scary little spiker.”

Bokuto shook his head. “Nah man, I’m not talkin’ about spiking. He’s got the ability to control the entire court to his liking if that’s what we’re talking about. I’m talking about you outside’a court.”

Atsumu’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Bo-kun, would’ja mind talkin’ with a little more sense? I don’t understand what’cha trying to say.”

“You see! That’s exactly what I mean!” Bokuto jumped up and pointed at Atsumu from the other side of the bench. “With all of us, you always talk like such a snotty brat, and you look like you want to die half the time-”

“-Ouch, okay dude, that kinda hurts-”

“-but when you talk to Hinata- no, scratch that. Even when you’re just looking at him, it’s like you’re seeing stars. You drop that snobby smile you’re always wearin’ and it turns all...uhhh...mushy! Then there’s also the way you’re always calling out to him, and you just sound like you really like saying his name; and the way you’re always staring whenever Hinata laughs even though you’re, like, across the room. And I mean, you’re always talking like you’re all that hot stuff, but sometimes, you have lapses of silence where you just sit and watch Hinata talk. Oh! And do I really need to talk about how he’s always hanging off your back when we’re resting in-” 

“-OKAY. THAT’S ENOUGH!” Atsumu shouted, covering his face with his arms. “What are ‘ya, Bo-kun? A freak? Why do you know all that? Have ya been stalking me? And who said I did all that? There’s just no way I did all’a that. That’s so embarrassing. There’s no way I did all that.”

“You’ve repeated that twice now, Tsum-tsum!”

“...Just shut up, Bo-kun.”

“I didn’t stalk you. It’s been pretty obvious at trainings, and it’s been going on for months. Omi-kun thinks so too!”

“...Oh no.” How bad must it have been for Bokuto to be able to give him an in-depth run down on what a mess he’d been like? There was just no way. Miya Atsumu, the Miya Atsumu, national volleyball heart-throb, MSBY setter number 1, acting like an idiot in front of- of Shouyo-kun. 

And why? 

He paused to think about that, and memories flashed through his mind without much prompting: sunlit smiles; light, tinkling laughter; spontaneous high-fives; the warmth of Hinata’s chest against his back and his warm, breathy laughs against his ear whenever Hinata had been amused by what Atsumu scrolled through on instagram. 

Well, damn. And as if the rate of his heartbeat wasn’t evidence enough, Bokuto’s following “Woah, bro. Your face is totally scarlet!” really drove home the understanding that Miya Atsumu was absolutely gone.

Here’s part 2!

[southsidestory]

Caged

RATING: Explicit

FANDOM: Hunger Games

SHIP: Odesta

WARNINGS: Rape/non-con, drug use, forced sex work

SUMMARY: Annie’s Victory Tour brings her to the Capitol, with Finnick at her side. He did his job as her mentor when he got her out of the arena, but he can’t look after her anymore. All he can do is play the part Snow has given him. It’s almost simple now, posing for the cameras and obeying his patrons, all with a smile on his face. Pretending is so easy that he can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore. But Annie might be able to remind him. 

Read on AO3

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With his lips closed, Dionysus looks plain by Capitol standards. Pasty skin, undyed and free of tattoos. Short brown hair, black shoes, dark suit. Colorless, except for the trio of yellow tablets in his palm. My throat itches to swallow down the promise they hold, but I have two questions that need answering.

First: “Will I be able to fuck?”

The dealer laughs, revealing a mouth full of gold and gems. “Like a damn rabbit,” Dionysus says.

Second: “I want to feel nothing, but a good nothing. Can this do that?”

Sapphires flash on his eye teeth. “You’ll see nirvana,” he promises.

I don’t know what that is, or where it might be, but any place would be better than this one.

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Red. That’s all I see, at first. Waves and folds of the color spilling down the length of Annie’s skirt. Six feet of fabric fans out behind her, but the top of the dress is spare, sheer wisps that cling to her breasts and shoulders and throat.

“Inspired,” says Sabina. “Her stylist has an eye for drama.”

Her stylist will be lucky to have eyes at all when I’m done with him.

I take a flute of turquoise champagne from a passing Avox’s tray. It tastes like turpentine and sugar, the medicine that District Four mothers force down their children’s sore throats. I drink three glasses in ten minutes. Red still bleeds along the edges of my vision, and no matter where I turn, there’s Annie. Trussed up for Capitol appetites, tribute all over again. When I reach for another glass Sabina touches her too-long nails to my wrist. Tap, tap: bad dog. She kisses me, tongue sour blue slick, and I imagine what a senator’s wife might look like if three weeping mouths opened in the middle of her chest.

Something tugs at my shirt sleeve, jealous but gentle. Annie, drowning in all that District One silk.

“I need you,” she says. Splattered droplets dot her left cheek, a constellation of freckles that shine crimson-wet in the low light.

“Everyone needs me tonight.”

Sabina laughs and Annie pulls away, so I know I've said the wrong thing. That’s what happens when I put pills in my mouth; nothing but mistakes come out.

I say, “Teenage girls,” and give my date a knowing smile. Let her read what she wants into that.

Sabina twines her fingers around my arm and leans in close, smug and conspiratorial. “My daughter’s at that age now. It’s all me, me, me! And they want everything immediately. Nothing pleases them…”

How this is any different from the rest of the Capitol I can’t guess, but I let her go on, nodding and humming my sympathy where appropriate. Oh yes, they’re selfish little brats. Ungrateful, never satisfied. When Sabina pauses to sample a canapé I say how much I hate to leave her for even a moment, but I am Annie’s mentor. Duty calls and all that.

Sabina frowns prettily. “I hope you're this dedicated in all of your pursuits.”

She should know the answer to that already. This isn’t our first date. Still, I feed her a stock innuendo about finishing the things I start.

“Go on then, but be back soon!”

I find my tribute talking to the light crew. A woman with tattooed vines climbing the side of her shaved head shows Annie how to hold a sheet of foil. It’s a clever way to hide from the cameras and I wish I’d thought of it first. Too late for that, because Annie turns her silver shield, and then there’s a lens blinking closer to my well-lit face.

“Perfect,” says Vines. “You’re a natural.”

Annie shakes her head. “No. He’s just an easy target.”

I duck into the bright circle of the light crew’s equipment before the cameras can focus. The heat feels artificial, claustrophobic, like the solar beds my stylist makes me visit. Annie returns the foil to Vines and thanks her for the lesson. I can’t breathe again until there’s ten feet between me and the clicking insect sound of mechanical eyes.

“I thought you were busy,” Annie says. Her voice is so light and casual that, if I didn’t know her, I’d have no idea that she’s annoyed.

“I shouldn't have said that. I didn’t mean it.”

Annie shrugs. “You never mean anything you say in the Capitol.”

Sometimes I forget how much she sees, this girl who’s turned my world upside down in six months. “Where are your tokens?”

Annie grasps at the place over her heart where two sea glass pendants always rest. She looks mildly surprised to catch only empty air between her fingers. “Vibius wouldn’t let me wear them. Said the colors...” She shakes her head, the way you would to get water out of your ears after swimming. “I’m hungry.”

But when I follow her to a banquet table she doesn’t eat a bite. Instead, she stacks gingerbread cubes around a pink chocolate fountain.

“Who’s your date?” she asks.

“Senator Wexler’s wife,” I say.

Annie never looks up, too busy skewering blueberries on toothpicks. She sticks them in the topmost layer of her curtain wall, like heads on neighboring spikes. Two by two by two. Then she says, “Doesn’t the senator mind?”

“Only that he couldn’t come with us.”

Annie tips over the fountain, and chocolate bursts through her gingerbread dam. It creeps along the aisle of white cloth and drips onto the floor. Part of me wants to scold her, because some Avox will have to clean all this up after the party. I don’t, though, because I know how everything shifts after the Games. You might leave the arena, but it comes with you all the same. Alliances replace friendships. Sleep never really comes easy again, because too many things are still awake in the dark. Survival is tangled up with fighting, hurting, killing, and sometimes you need small destructions just to breathe.

“Dance with me,” Annie says.

The train on that fucking dress is longer than she is. “How could I, with you in that?”

I laugh. Everything and nothing seems funny at the same time. Annie jumps a little when I finger one of the slivers of silk covering her chest. Vibius didn’t leave much to the imagination, so I can see the shape of her. Small teardrop breasts, narrow shoulders, long waist. Her nipples peak beneath the fabric.

Somewhere in my periphery a camera flashes.

“Stop,” Annie says, and I want to shake her. That word doesn’t mean anything in this city. A victor should understand the rules by now.

I trace her collarbone. We’re too far away for Sabina to see us, but even if she does it won’t matter. This is what they want me to be.

The preps painted Annie’s lips too, and it makes her look like a working girl. Ripe apple mouth ready to be plucked. If I could I’d spit on a napkin and wipe it all away, same as my mother used to do to get dirt off my face.

She leans into my touch and asks, “Why are you with that woman?”

“Because she can afford my company.”

Annie’s red, red mouth frowns, but I simply smile and step away, tell her to eat something and enjoy the party.

Sabina welcomes me with a soft hello peck to my cheek. I turn it into more, the kind of wet, deep kiss that decent folk back home wouldn’t dream of doing in public. But that’s how I like it, even if I can hear the cameras snapping behind and beside and in front of me. Pretending is so easy that I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore.

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These sounds are almost lost beneath the snap of handcuffs closing: footsteps, a full skirt whispering across the floor, the creak of hinges.

The manacles lock around my wrists, pulling my arms taut, stretching until my shoulders lift from the bed and I can feel the blades angling outward. Like clipped wings opening, Sabina said, the first time she bought me. A caged bird poised to take flight. Now she leans forward and bites my neck, just hard enough to mark. It’s always hard enough to mark with Sabina, whether she uses teeth or nails or the back of her hand.

I hear feather-light fabric brushing the carpet, then see something in the gap between door and frame. The briefest flash of red silk. There, then gone.

Sabina strikes me hard on the cheek. Pain vibrates through my jaw and up the side of my face. Stars burst behind my eyes, then in front of them, but I don’t feel distant or dizzy. Everything becomes sharper, brighter. Needles made of sunlight prick my vision, highlighting it all with stinging intensity. If I ever come down I’m going to kill Dionysus for selling me those three little pills the color of daffodils. He promised oblivion but gave me this instead. With every blow the room grows brighter, until all I see is Sabina, haloed in white.

Her mouth closes over me, warm and soft, drawing out all the things I don’t want to give. Then she’s straddling my lap, hands clutching my shoulders, nails digging into my skin. Ten welts spring beneath her touch, bright as pink ribbons down my chest. It’s winter everywhere but between her legs, and there she’s fever hot. Cold snakes down my throat, chokes and burrows inside me until it’s snowing under my skin.

“Finnick,” she hisses. I grip the bedposts and snap my hips up to meet her. I’m shaking from the chill air, the pleasure where a warm body takes mine in and the pain everywhere else. I don’t stop, not until she arches and trembles, mouth open on a whiny cry.

One beat, two, and she climbs off. Leaves me aching, tied up, and filthy while she saunters to the bathroom to refresh herself.

The haze clears, unfreezes, and I remember where I’ve seen red silk tonight.

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I scrub until the scratch marks on my chest reopen and the water blushes down the drain, washing away smudged makeup and sweat, fresh blood and Sabina’s come. Not mine, and even though I’m half-hard, I’m mostly thankful. Dates are always worse when a client makes me finish. Steam fills the shower stall, wet and suffocating. Flash-bulbs go off behind my closed eyelids and all I can hear is the endless snapping of camera shutters. I sit on the tile floor, head between my knees, until the water grows cold.

After I get out of the shower and dry off, I pull on the tight blue pants from my date with Sabina and go to Annie’s room. I don’t knock, and when I step inside she jumps. Her dress is curled up in the corner, wilting. All those red folds remind me of a rose, so I turn away. Free of make-up, Annie’s face shines brown and clean. Dark waves fall limply around her cheeks, weighted and damp. By the way she holds the robe over her breasts I can tell she’s not wearing much underneath.

Good. I hope she feels naked. Exposed and vulnerable, like I do.

“You watched us.”

Annie sits on the edge of the bed, legs drawn up close to her body. She whispers an apology I can’t stand to hear.

“Don’t,” I say. She flinches and grasps the sea glass tokens around her neck. Her eyes dart away, focusing on some point along the baseboard.

“Look at me.” I kneel on the floor before her, too close to be ignored. “You didn’t have any trouble looking before.”

The only small mercy I can find is that Annie left before Sabina actually fucked me. But she saw me handcuffed to the bed, and that’s bad enough.

Annie bites her bottom lip, and for a moment all I can see is this same skittish girl, more innocent and less broken, on a different train, blushing under my hands.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “When I saw you leaving with that woman—I didn’t really think, I just wanted to know what was so special about her. So I followed you.”

I thought she wanted to see me, and I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. It’s a good thing that she didn’t want a peep show, that she ran off before she saw the main event. A good thing—but it still pisses me off.

I wrap my hands around her calves and slide down, thumbs grazing the soft skin of her inner ankles.

“Finnick?” Her lips linger on the sound, not quite closing over the question she’s made of my name.

“Open your legs,” I tell her. Because whatever she’s asking, this is the only answer I have to give.

Annie’s breath hitches. She trembles all the way down to her toes, but she’s warm, my girl. I brought her home and that makes Annie mine. She belongs to me in the same way I belong to my sponsors.

When she doesn’t move, I kiss the inside of her right knee, flicking my tongue over a new scar there—a pretty pink thing that’s cropped up since her Games—until her legs shake and unlock. Just as she falls open and willing below the waist, Annie clutches the collar of her robe even more tightly, keeping it closed to me.

Eighteen isn’t so young, I remind myself. Not here, not in this place.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, and that’s all I need.

Beads of moisture cling to the dark curls between her legs. She smells like the Capitol, flowers and spun sugar, but when I put my mouth there all I taste is salt and wet and girl. Her hands scramble for purchase, first on the covers, then in my hair, and she pulls with more strength than I expected. Not as sharply as Sabina, but enough to smart. That’s been done to me so many times that I know it means more and now and harder—though by the way Annie’s thumb brushes over my cheek, I think it might also mean please.

No, eighteen isn’t too young for this, but I might be.

I can feel her looking: eyes on me, on my body, on the things I’m doing. Just like before, when she peeked into that bedroom and watched Sabina getting her money’s worth, and it stirs something ugly and angry in the pit of my stomach. So I pull away, let my mouth part from her with a goodbye kiss cruel enough to make her whine and tug on my hair, to say my name again. No question this time, just a soft plea.

I’m sick of being on my knees, and really, there’s no reason I can’t do what I want. No reason at all. When I stand, Annie’s eyes go to my chest, flickering across the stripes Sabina’s fingernails left behind. I strip off my pants, and her gaze lowers, lingers.

Beneath the robe I find her pliant and panting. Skin damp, nipples hard, breath coming fast and shallow. Greedy, grasping, her touch falls with selfish hunger, and in this Annie isn’t unlike my other lovers. Long legs wrap around my waist, anchoring me to her. She’s warm and wet, whimpering in a way that might sound pitiful if it wasn’t making me so hard. I press against her, teasing. Those little mewling noises grow stronger, tighten together into a full-throated moan.

“Have you ever done this before?” I ask.

Annie shakes her head, then says, “Almost, once, but…”

Her eyes go distant, and she’s about to slip away from me. Retreat to some inner place where her district partner still lives and loves, but I’m not going to let her mind wander, not now when our bodies are tangled up together. I kiss her, our first, and that’s so backwards that I almost laugh.

Beneath my mouth Annie takes a deep, gasping breath. Then she peppers kisses everywhere she can reach. My brow, both cheeks, the tip of my nose. My lips, again and again. The curve from shoulder to neck and the hollow between my collarbones. When her quick tongue darts out to trace the shell of my ear, I shudder. The drugs must have finally worn off, because I feel myself warming for the first time tonight. “Finnick,” she whispers. “I love you—”

I can’t stand to hear that, not from Annie. So I kiss her quiet, slip a hand between her thighs, and slide two fingers inside of her.

“You’re wetter than home,” I say, and it’s true. More so when I curl my fingers, beckoning her forward—closer to me, closer to coming. “Were you like this in the ballroom, when I touched you?”

“Yes?” It comes out a question, eager but unsure. Annie’s not fluent in pillow talk, and something about that sends a jolt through me. All at once I want her, need to fuck her like I’ll die if I don’t. Under me she’s subtle curves and rocking warmth. Open legs, cradling my hips as I push inside—and then I feel her. Tight, slick heat, stretched around my cock, gripping me, pulling me in.

Annie whimpers, but whether that sound is pained or pleased I’m not sure, can’t tell and barely care. “Yes,” she says, even though I never asked. Why didn’t I ask?

In the beginning I go gentle and steady. Then I slow our rhythm, stretch out the slide of skin on skin, and tell her to beg. Love me becomes have me, you can have me becomes fuck me.

For a moment all I can feel are handcuffs snapping closed, grabbing fingers and greedy cunt. I’m angry all over again but still aching, and Annie knows, because her hands untangle from my hair and dart down to cover her ears. But I catch her wrists, drag them over her head and let my weight do the rest.

I spread her arms apart, wide as they’ll go. Pinned, she’s a butterfly behind glass, pretty and splayed. Annie must like being caged better than I do, because soon she shivers beneath me, coming and crying at once. Back arched, small breasts thrust forward, toes curled and legs taut; she’s lovely like this and so tight it almost hurts.

On the low tide of our touch she says those three unwanted words, passes them from her mouth to mine like a hard candy secret.

“Don’t,” I say.

The camera loves me too. I’m sick to death of love.

But then my climax creeps up on me, sharp and sweet, and I can’t think anymore. There’s nothing but Annie beneath me, her body tight and wet around mine.

In the soft moment right after, I feel something new. A warmth, quiet and gentle, as Annie looks up at me with heavy-lidded green eyes. That love she promised is raw and open as a wound.

It’s terrifying. And tempting, which is the scariest part of all.

The knot around her throat unties easily, and I take a green sea glass token with me when I go. It’s all she has left of the boy who loved her, who died at her side. Stealing it is cruel, but I don’t do it out of spite or jealousy. The reason is simple: my patrons always pay, and Annie is no exception.

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[nami-writes]

*inhale*

OKAY ITS 11:26 PM AND I SHOULD BE SLEEPING BUT I BINGED THE HUNGER GAMES MOVIES TODAY AND ALSO WATCHED MOCKINGJAY PT 2 FOR THE FIRST TIME AND I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT PEETA

*exhale*

okay so first off i just wanna say mockingjay pt 2 is 100% my fave thg movie simply bc of the ANGST

all i could think about while i was watching it was how GOOD the mf fanfiction would be

like,,,,, the descriptions of trauma and pain and hurting and healing and his reasons for being homicidal and the panic attacks he probably has and oh my god im gonna die

like peeta’s ENTIRE character arc in that movie is just. healing from trauma and i literally Cannot i love angst

like?? just think of him getting to 13 and hearing katniss’s voice in that room and his heartbeat spikes and fear floods thru him and he knows something bad is coming and he’s gonna be hurt bc he’s always hurt when she’s involved and he’s not restrained, he can make the first move, he has to make the first move or she’ll hurt him again

or being strapped down to the bed in that observation room, pulling and straining and struggling in his restrains, just trying desperately to escape bc he’s in a building with katniss and he’s scared and afraid and alone and vulnerable and if he doesnt get out he never will

or being taken to the other district where katniss and her squad are, muttering “my name is peeta mellark, i’m from district 12,” over and over bc if he doesn’t he’ll forget again, he’ll forget who he was and who he now has to be again and he cant forget again or the handcuffs will stay on and he’ll never be trusted and he’ll never be truly safe, not when nobody there knows who he is anymore, not even himself

or trying to test the waters, talking to katniss despite every instinct in him telling him it’s unsafe, she’s unsafe, and finnick telling him that if he’s unsure about his memories he can just ask, and it’s such a simple solution but it was so easily overlooked until he was told about it bc the thought never even crossed his mind that maybe they might be willing to help and maybe they aren’t as bad as he thought

or listening to the sound of gunfire from the pod as he crouches behind the wall with strangers he has to trust with his life, but his eyes are glassy and his heart’s racing but he can’t even feel it bc all he can focus on is the gunfire, how he listened to gunfire just like it kill innocent people in the capital, innocent prisoners, some of which he knew but most of which didn’t seem to have anyone and all of which died at the hands of snow and peacekeepers, a fate he was threatened with constantly before and after he sat in the furthest corner of his cell, trying to cover his ears and muffle the guns and the screams and banging his head on the wall in a feeble attempt to die, just die, just let me die already

or running from that black goop chasing them and his survival instincts kick in and all he can think about is surviving, he has to survive, he needs to survive, even if it’s at the cost of someone else’s life, and he doesn’t feel in control of himself at all when he watches himself grab the nearest person and drag him to the ground, throw him into the sea of black to die before somebody restrains him and he’s dragged inside only to be tranquilized like a rabid dog, like an animal, because at that point, it’s practically all he is

or fighting the sewer monster things and seeing katniss being attacked and for just a moment, considering not helping her because all that matters is that he survives this, but he snaps out of it just enough to drag it off of her and divert its attention to attacking him instead and he’s panicking because he just saved her and he thinks she’s left him to die, he can’t keep it at bay for much longer and he’s going to die because nobody else here cares about him, katniss is the only one who’d even bother to try and help him, and then finnick kills it and saves his life but that only makes his screams echo in his head when he doesn’t make it

or running in the underground parking lot(?) and just barely making it and he’s just barely keeping himself from murdering someone again and then he just can’t find it in him to keep going, can’t find any reason to keep going when all he is is a liability because he can’t even be trusted, he can’t even not get someone killed, finnick died because of him and he’s so fucked up he has homicidal urges that he’s just barely able to stop himself from acting on and there’s no point in him going on anymore, there’s no point in him living anymore

or sitting with katniss and asking her to handcuff him because although he doesn’t want to be vulnerable, he doesn’t want to be the reason another person dies and they treat him so well, better than he’d been treated in so long, and it just isn’t fair that what they get in return for that is a murderous, broken man, and he’d rather be cuffed than be a danger to the people who barely know him and yet have been so kind that they’ve kept him alive and haven’t even hurt him at all for how little he contributes

or talking to gale, remembering gale’s history with katniss and that he himself has no chance with her, not with gale, not when she’d obviously choose her childhood best friend over him, and he can’t deny to himself that he’s afraid gale thinks he’s a threat because he’d be completely vulnerable to him if he wanted to just kill him, only to be told that gale thinks the opposite and that he has no chance with peeta, but although it does give him a little hope, it also gives him guilt because he knows gale deserved her far more than he ever would

oh my GOD the potential angst hurts

but it’s been almost an hour since i started writing this and now my headcanons are written down so i’m gonna try to actually sleep lmao

if i ever write this shit its gonna have a LOTTA feels and i am gonna be LIVING for it

[nsflu]

Frustration

Four/Twi smut anyone? It’s pretty fluffy, including size difference, trans!Four, and after care...

Word Count: 2,165

Four had a headache and he was beyond frustrated. The Colors had been arguing almost all day and he just wanted them to shut up already but he had run out of ideas to stop the constant stream of bickering. He needed a solid distraction; not one of Vio’s books or weapon maintenance or calming tea. Something real, solid, grounding. His eyes flicked over to Twilight. He was having a conversation with Wild, nodding along respectfully but with a confused look on his face as the Champion explained something about Sheikah tech. He was bored, Four needed a distraction, Twilight had always been happy to oblige…

He found himself pulling the pelted hero away from camp before he thought better of it, heart beating faster as Twilight followed obediently. The arguing in his head continued but the soft sounds of camp faded, and Four relaxed slightly once he felt they’d gotten far enough away for some privacy. He turned to Twilight, already feeling a blush on his cheeks at being so forward, but the sharp curiosity in the man’s eyes bolstered his courage.

“What’s going on, do you need to talk--” Twilight began with a hint of worry, but Four quickly shook his head.

“Just,” he huffed out a sigh, then met Twilight’s eyes pleadingly. “Could you kiss me?”

The smile that split Twilight’s face exposed sharp canines, and Four barely had to wait a second before he was lifted into strong arms with soft lips against his. He wrapped his arms around Twilight’s neck, relaxing into the caste kiss, but the Colors didn’t let up. He needed more, and Four tangled his fingers in Twilight’s hair and tugged, eliciting a groan from him. The kiss deepened, Twilight catching Four’s lower lip between his teeth, and for a moment there was blissful silence as his heart pounded louder.

A hand roamed up his side, his back, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When it buried in his hair and pulled, Four couldn’t help the moan that fell from his lips. Twilight pulled away to catch his breath, pressing their foreheads together with a sparkle in his eye that could only mean good bad things. His head was pulled back suddenly, and Twilight was on his neck, sharp teeth and warm lips sending shivers down his spine. Four was burning hot, breaths coming in gasps as Twilight worked the sensitive skin into a bruise. His head was lighter, the Colors’ arguing more distant, and Four let his hands travel over Twilight’s shoulders and back, clenching in his tunic and tugging him closer.

Twilight’s teeth sunk in just below his jaw and Four’s breath caught, back arching as pleasure shot straight from his head to--

“T-Twi, wait,” Four’s voice wavered but he could care less as another wave crashed over him when Twilight mouthed at the bite.

Twilight pulled back slowly, eyes dark, and Four nearly lost track of his thoughts as he saw the blood on Twilight’s lips. The Colors were quieter now, but not completely, a dull ache at the back of his mind still. The ache was nothing compared to the curious throb between his legs, but he could ignore that.

“Ah,” Twilight blinked, awareness returning as a blush colored his cheeks. His eyes flitted to Four’s neck in shame and no no no, that’s not good. “I-I’m sorry, Four, I got carried away…”

Twilight shifted, lowering him down, and Four tightened his grip as the friction sent heat spiking through him. He buried his face in Twilight’s pelt to muffle his moan, but the man’s hearing was too good for that to work. Twilight paused, hands still on his back, and a deep chuckle reverberated between their pressed chests.

“Are you alright?” Twilight’s voice was right against his ear and Four shivered.

“Don’t tease,” Four grumbled, pulling back to look Twilight in the face. There was concern in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by hunger that made Four’s throat feel tight.

“We don’t have to continue,” Twilight said, hands shifting to hold his weight again, each press of his fingers into Four’s thighs pooling hot in his stomach.

The Colors had grown quiet, watching intently. He could stop…

“I want to,” Four whispered, and Twilight’s hands gripped him tighter before their lips crashed together in a passionate kiss.

Four could taste iron and blackberries and he felt drunk on it, warm and tingling and unable to focus on much beyond the caress of Twilight’s hands. One dipped under his tunic, burning hot against his stomach as it explored any skin it could reach. Four pressed into the touch, pressed into the hard plane of Twilight’s stomach as his legs wrapped tighter around narrow hips. Twilight gasped, and Four smirked against his lips as he pressed down further. The hand beneath his tunic trailed down, pressing against him, and Four groaned at the bolt of electricity that ripped through him.

Twilight lowered to his knees, Four holding on until he was deposited in the older’s lap. There was a hand between his legs instantly, palming through his leggings, and Four shuddered as pleasure crashed over him. They’d never gone this far before, but Four didn’t want to stop. Far from it, he wanted more, right now, and he pressed back into Twilight’s hand with insistence. Twilight had paused though, watching Four shiver as he gave only the lightest touches, and Four bit his lip as the heat simmered within him. He only lasted a minute before he felt down Twilight’s sides and palmed the bulge between his legs--and gosh, that was big. The next moment Four was on his back, Twilight hunched over him with a hand tugging down his leggings.

The night air prickled on his skin as he was exposed, but Twilight’s hand was pressed against him the next moment and Four would have cared less. He bucked into Twilight’s hand with a whine, the fingers on him reigniting the fire within. Twilight’s smile was sharp, his eyes dark, and Four pulled him down into another hungry kiss.

It was bliss, but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough for Twilight to just touch him. Four felt his way down again, down, until he found the waist of Twilight’s trousers. Twilight’s thumb pressed against him and Four saw stars, toes curling and task almost forgotten. He pulled away, panting, and tugged at Twilight’s pants insistently.

“You too,” Four gasped, and Twilight hummed against his neck. “Please?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Twilight mumbled, cutting off in a groan as Four palmed at him again.

“Hurt me? You’re ridiculous,” Four smirked as he grasped Twilight more firmly, feeling the shiver that wracked through his body. “Let me take care of you too.”

A moment later Twilight’s trousers were being kicked off, and Four took the chance to remove his leggings before they were on each other again. Twilight’s length rested heavy in his hand and it was big, though that only served to spur Four on. I wonder if we could No that’s a terrible idea I say lets go for it Are you crazy? We won’t walk straight for a week! Come on, it would be fun! The Colors were back to arguing but at least this time Four found it helpful. The tightness coiling in his gut at each of Twilight’s strokes was insistent, but he’d made up his mind.

“Twi,” Four gasped, feeling the other nod against his shoulder. “I want-- you in me.”

“Wh--” Twilight’s head lifted, panic and lust in his gaze. “No, that’s not a good idea.”

“I’ll be fine, come on.” Four huffed, shuddering as Twilight stroked him again. “I-I mean it, I can handle it!”

Twilight looked torn, though another squeeze from Four had him stifling a moan. “A-Alright, but you’ve gotta tell me to stop if I’m hurting you.”

“Deal, just fuck me already,” Four groaned, and Twilight wasted no time.

Twilight’s hand slid down, fingers brushing over Four’s entrance gently before a single digit slipped in. It didn’t feel like much until Twilight curled it up, pressing against something that made Four shiver with pleasure. Twilight inserted a second finger and then the stretch burned, but it was pleasant enough, and Four moaned when that same spot was hit again. Twilight kissed softly against his neck, stretching him gently, and Four wanted more already. A third finger joined the first two and this time it was easy, only frustrating him the longer he had to wait.

“Twi,” he groaned, and Twilight huffed fondly, nipping at his neck. Four gripped Twilight’s length and gave it two quick strokes, reveling in the gasp he earned.

“Fine,” Twilight whispered, and the fingers slid out, leaving Four empty and eager.

Twilight pulled Four’s hips up, strong hands on him, positioning. He hesitated, and Four placed his hand on Twilight’s, their eyes meeting.

“I’m sure I want this.” Four reassured, and Twilight nodded.

His length pressed against Four’s entrance, and when Twilight began to press in Four realized three fingers had not been enough preparation. The stretch burned in a way that made Four blush, toes curling as Twilight eased in bit by bit. The hands on his hips gripped firmly, and Four felt the stretch give way to a satisfying fullness when Twilight finally bottomed out. They panted in the evening light, and Four couldn’t help but grin as he realized he’d been right--he could handle it. Twilight was blushing fiercely but still managed to frown back, however weak of a frown it was. One hand moved back down to stroke against him and Four tensed as heat crashed over him once more, Twilight groaning in response.

The first thrust was shallow, but the second made him dizzy. Twilight was kissing his neck, biting his collar bone, and every stroke of his finger and thrust bright Four closer to the edge. He’d been teetering on the brink all night, but somehow each moment was more intense than the last, building higher than he’d ever ever thought possible. Twilight’s rhythm was steady and Four latched onto him, feeling like he might drift away in the overwhelming swell of sensations. A final stroke sent Four over the edge with a cry, his muscles tensing sporadically as he came. Twilight didn’t stop and just as quickly as he’d finished Four felt the coil tightening again inside him, shivering as the pleasure faded slowly and built again.

“Hylia, Twi,” Four gasped between thrusts, groaning as Twilight brushed over him once more.

“You’re perfect,” Twilight whispered against his ear, kissing his jaw. “You’re stunning and smart and so perfect, Four.”

Twilight’s thrusts were getting more desperate, strokes against Four speeding up. The pressure was building again, heat pooling in his stomach, his feet, his face. Four arced his back, pressing closer, hands tangled in his hair as each thrust rocked through him.

“Four, I…” Twilight gasped against his neck, and Four tensed as he teetered on the edge.

“You b-better not.. ruin my tunic.” Four managed, and Twilight laughed shakily against him.

The next thrust sent Four over the edge for a second time, and two more had Twilight pulling out with a gasp. Four breathed heavily, face burning hot and body tingling from head to toe. His vision was fuzzy when he opened his eyes, but Twilight flopped down beside him and pulled him onto his chest a moment later. Four wrapped his arms around Twilight’s neck, the man’s heartbeat against his ear lulling him into almost-sleep. Soft kisses were pressed to his head, strong hands against his back, and Four could almost ignore the soreness that was taking root in his legs and neck.

“...we should head back soon.” Twilight eventually said, the rumble of his voice disturbing Four’s attempted nap. “It’s late, we can sleep at camp.”

Four grumbled and latched onto Twilight as he sat up, moving off with a huff to retrieve his leggings when Twilight gave him an insistent look. He pulled them on stiffly, muscles aching and limbs not cooperating as tiredness pulled at him. Four shakily got to his feet and managed half a step before his legs gave out, Twilight catching him with a shout before he hit the ground.

“Are you alright?” Twilight’s voice was thick with concern but Four could only laugh.

“‘Can’t walk. You have to carry me.” Four announced, meeting Twilight’s gaze with a challenge in his eye.

Twilight simply shrugged, smiling slightly as he picked Four up in a bridal carry, letting the smaller nuzzle against him sleepily. Four didn’t wake up until Twilight was tucking him into his bedroll, and then only to tighten his grip around the others’ neck, not letting go until Twilight laid down beside him. Four was sore and couldn’t walk comfortably the next morning still, but it had been the best nights sleep he’d gotten in a while, and his headache would be gone for the foreseeable future.

[screamxqueenx94]

Night School Pt. 3/ Teen Wolf Series Rewrite

Summary: Charli has to now figure out how she's going to survive with, not one, but two werewolves chasing her down!

A/N: sorry about this being a three parter! This ended up being longer than I was expecting it to be. Also, a little cameo is thrown in there that I think you guys will get a kick out of. Let me know if you wanna more of them! (Not my GIF: shout to the creator @innyatima)

Warnings: mentions of blood; arguing; heavy cursing (bad Charli!)

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I make it back to the classroom door and start banging on it rapidly. 

"Stiles, open the door, please!" I cry out with my voice breaking on the last word and tear filled eyes. 

I hear the chair being moved and the lock being undone as I watch for both the Alpha and wolfed out Scott. As soon as the door opens, I burst in, knocking Stiles off balance and slamming the door shut and locking it and placing the chair back under the knob. I lean my back against the door and slide down to the floor. My whole body shaking from fear and adrenaline. 

"Charli! Charli, are you okay?" Stiles asks concerningly, getting down on the floor and sliding on his knees to sit in front of me. 

I can't catch my breath. I just keep hyperventilating and trying to fight back tears. Stiles takes my hand in his and scoots closer to me. He looks at me with care and concern as I try to calm myself down enough to be able to talk. 

"We--we were attacked." I barely get out, still crying.

Stiles, Allison, Lydia and Jackson all share a look, then look back to me. 

"Where's Scott?" Allison asks, tears welling up in her eyes. Lie! And make it good this time!

"I--I don't know! He told me to come back here and took off the other way!" I cry out. 

"Took off? Took off where?" Jackson interrogates, making my bottom quiver and cry again.

"Back off, Jackson or I'll punch you in your jaw again!" Stiles threatens, rising to his feet to come face to face with Jackson. 

They stand there, pumped chest to pumped chest until Allison and Lydia pull them away from each other. Stiles turns his attention back to me. Back to my level. He takes his eyes off of mine for a moment as I keep shaking and put my hands over my face. He takes my one hand and examines it. 

"Charli… who's blood is this?" He asks, calmly, but also tensed. 

I look at my shaky hand with smeared blood drops on it and swallow hard. Oh no… 

"Th--the janitor's." I answer quietly as I try to wipe it away frantically on the floor. I still feel the hunger… it's not going away… 

Suddenly, Allison notices something in front of the classroom door. Stiles pulls me to my feet and we all look at the door. I can hear everyone's hearts racing, but the one behind the door is starting to slow down. Scott… it has to be… 

"Scott?" Allison calls out, reaching for the door handle and unlocking the door.

"Scott!" She screams, continuing to jiggle the door handle, trying to open it. 

"What's he doing?" Lydia asks cautiously. 

Allison screams for him one last time. I hear something… is it? Sirens!

"Stop…" I command quietly. "...Stop! STOP!" I scream, making everyone look at me. 

"Do you hear that?" I ask. 

Everyone stops to listen. As they draw closer, the sound of the police sirens get louder and louder. 

We all rush to the window. We can see multiple police cars pulling up by the jeep. We all let out a collective sound of relief. Stiles and I hug each other tightly, his hand resting on the back of my head. He then let's go and looks at his hand, smeared with blood, then looks at me with a look of terror. I bring a shaky hand to the back of my head, touch the wet spot and slowly pull my hand back to look at it…

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

I'm sitting in an ambulance, getting my head wrapped up with gauze after getting it cleaned up by a paramedic, a young, asian man with spiked hair who looks to be only a few years older than me. 

"Well, thankfully it's nothing too serious. Broken skin mainly by the looks of it. Give me a few minutes to talk to the sheriff and we'll take you to the hospital to get a better check." The paramedic tells me as he removes his blood covered gloves and disposes of them. 

He gets up and reaches for a clipboard and pen. "Fill this out the best you can and I'll be back in a few to check on you." 

As he walks away, I start filling out the form he handed me when Stiles comes over to me. 

"You okay?" He asks shyly.

"The paramedic said it didn't look too serious, but wants me to go to the hospital for a second opinion." I answer without looking up.

It's quiet between us for a minute. "Scott wanted to kill us…" He tells me blatantly. 

I sigh and set the paperwork down next to me. I pull the blanket they gave me tighter around myself and nod, without even looking at him. "I know…" 

He gives me his usual surprised look, looks behind him, then gets closer and talks slightly quieter. 

"You seen him turn?" He asks hurriedly.

I just nod.

"W--what was it like?" He questioned.

I sighed, then looked him in the eyes. "Like he was in pain… he looked like someone who was in pure agony." 

I shiver as Stiles sits next to me. "And the screams… I--it was like something out of a horror movie, Stiles." 

He put his arm around my shoulders as tears started to leave streaks on my cheeks. "Once he turned, he was ready to kill… he was ready to hunt." 

"How did you get away?" He asks, you can hear the emotions in his voice. 

"I kicked him in the face and ran as he fell." I answered him. "I ran like hell and prayed that this wasn't going to be my last night alive." I choked out. 

He wrapped his other arm around me and just held me as the tears just came flowing like a waterfall while I hugged him back. We sat like that until there was a knock on the ambulance. We looked up and it was the paramedic. Stiles helped me wipe my tears away before he got out. 

"I'll call you later to check on you." He tells me as he slides my necklace into my hand and hops out. 

He jumps down and just stares at me for a while. He waves to me as the paramedic closes the doors and I weakly wave back until he's out of sight. I love you...wait what am I saying? It's the head injury! Gotta be… 

I just lay back and close my eyes as the ambulance drives towards the hospital. 

"Your boyfriend seems to really care about you." The paramedic states as he looks over the form I barely filled out. 

"Oh--he--he's not my boyfriend." I stutter. 

"How come?" He asks, turning his attention to me.

"He likes someone else… plus I'm seeing someone." I answer back. 

"Well, considering the way he looks at you, I'd find it hard to believe that he was into anyone else but you." He states, raising an eyebrow at me. 

"What's your name?" I ask him. 

"Minho." He answers, showing me the name printed on his jacket.

"Minho, he's been in love with this other girl since third grade. I only moved here this year, who do you really think he's gonna go for?" I ask him as I raise my eyebrow to him. 

He smirks, then lets out a small chuckle. "I speak based on what I witnessed. I don't know this other girl, okay? But what I can tell you, is nobody looks at someone the way he looks at you without wanting to devote their entire heart to them." 

I look away and sigh and lean my head back again. 

"It's not my place to say anything, I know that. But between you and me, I'm a sucker for love, and I can tell that that boy loves you… just give it time because he also seems like an idiot." He adds, making me chuckle. 

"Yeah, but he's my idiot." I joke. 

He smiles and let's out another chuckle then returns to the form in front of him. As I lean back, I can't help but smile at the thought of Stiles possibly being in love with me. But I still won't get my hopes up, plus I really wanna see where things go with Isaac. I really like him, but if I never get over Stiles, it won't be fair to him if we keep what we have going. 

Isaac is so sweet and deserves someone who can give him their whole heart. What if I can't do that? What if this paramedic is wrong and I get hung up on Stiles and he doesn't even share the same feelings? What if I let this ruin any possible chance of happiness for myself… 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Once I'm in the ER, the nurse takes off the bandages that Minho wrapped around my injury to check the severity of it.

"No bone fragments in the skin. No pieces of skull missing either, nor do I even see a small crack…" she preps a needle and thread. "... You must be one tough girl to hit your head and not even crack your skull!" I give her a half hearted smile. She has me put my head down and let's me know that what she's about to do may hurt. As she stitches me up, I'm listening to the sound of someone yellinh from the waiting room, which sounds like it's getting closer.

"Sir, you can't go back there!" Another nurse cries out.

"Fuck that! My daughter is back here!" Dad?

I can hear his footsteps pounding on the ground, approaching me. Just as the nurse who stiches me up is finishes rewrapping my head, my dad is standing in front of me. I look up and he looks like he's been crying and drinking. 

"Where were you?" I ask quietly, looking away from him.

"Charli. I'm so sor--" he tries to aplogize when I cut him off.

"Where were you?" I ask louder, banging my fists on the bed.

"I… had company." He answers, ashamed. 

I look up at him, confused.

"What company?" I ask harshly.

He takes a deep breath and sighs, running a hand down his face while the other rested on his hip.

"I was… out… with a colleague. Scarlett, from my office…" he trails as he explains. 

I look at him, disgusted by this. 

"Mom has been dead for barely a year…" I slowly stand up so I can get as close to his face as my height will let me. "... and you're already going out on a date with some bimbo you just fucking met--" my voice gets louder with each word until I'm screaming in his face. "--WHILE I WAS TRYING TO FIGHT FOR MY FUCKING LIFE AGAINST A PSYCHOPATHIC KILLER?" 

I can feel the redness in my face. My chest heaving from being so angry and my body just shaking. All he can do is look away, almost ashamed of himself. 

"I needed you! And you weren't there!" I scream as tears stream down my face and I push him with each sentence I state.

He can barely look at me. He doesn't even stop me from pushing him. He just let's me take my anger out on him. 

"You're my dad and you weren't there for me! You said you'd always be there and you weren't!" I scream again and then just fall to the ground, crying into my hands. 

Instead of just letting me sit there and cry, he comes down to my level and holds me tight. "I know, honey. I should've answered. I should've came and helped you…" he agrees softly.

"I shouldn't have let my phone ring… I'm so sorry." He apologizes, tightening his hold on me… 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

@softpeteparker @mummybear @ficus-fig @stiles-o-dylan24 @cry-btch @inschi @wil2space @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @nicole-lynne @fullangelimagines @hufflepuff-foodie @pure-ghost @lavenderrosegoddess @blueraindrops @teenwolffan-with-nolife

[dian-morey]

Lazarus || Dian & Simba

@simba-bonfamille-lyons

TLDR; Dian wakes up in the basement of Town Hall and snacks on the first person available, Simba! Then Simba fights back and locks the newly turned vampire in the basement.

(trigger warnings before each reply!)

Dian Morey

(TW: DEATH, DYING.)

What's this?

The light surrounding Dian was fading. The warmth ebbing away. A monotone ringing filled the cavern of his mind until it all stopped. All sound and feeling and light sucked out of the space.

Back in the darkness.

And then all at once the aurora of lights came back, rapid fire blinking all across his being. It was overwhelming unlike the last time he saw them. It had been beautiful and mesmerizing last time. Now it was just blinding. If he could, he'd wince in the face of its intensity. Now the only way he could escape the flashing...

was to open his eyes.

Simba Bonfamille-Lyons

(tw talk of death/dead bodies/basements lol)

The basement was off limits to everyone except a select few. Board members, mostly. And loved ones of the deceased who wanted to visit. It was cool enough down there that they'd be fine for a few days at least. It was also where the supplies were and was locked from the outside so that people couldn't steal things. The supplies had been stocked after their last emergency: food and blankets and clean water. 

Simba had done that with Arthur. 

His heart clenched as he unlocked the door to the basement. He hated going down here, but he'd rather do it than anyone else. Especially because he'd asked to bring the Blackwells too. (Some people were pissed at him for that.) Anyway--

He was coming to get blankets, having to move around the haunting white sheets where the bodies lay. His path stirred one of the sheets, the breeze making it sway. Bloody unnerving. Simba turned to the shelves, reaching up to grab a few of the blankets stocked there. 

Dian Morey

(TW: NECK STUFF I H8 IT (is in italics feel free to skip), DEATH STUFF, DEAD BODIES)

There was an uncomfortable knot on his neck when he awoke So as Dian sat up in the unfamiliar setting, covered in a sheet, he tilted his head and popped it back into place letting out a gnarly crunch. 

He could tell it was dark... but he could see perfectly as he pulled the thin fabric from his face. And he could smell even better. He could smell the bodies, rancid and rotting around him. The only thing keeping him from gagging was the sweetest scent he'd ever smelled. Simba.

In the moment, Dian didn't care who it was that smelled like that. Friend, brother, perfect stranger... he had to have a taste.

Silently, he stalked over behind him, only letting out a hiss when he was just close enough to go in for a bite.

Simba Bonfamille-Lyons

(tw dead body/death mention)

Simba didn't hear anything. This was partially because he'd started whistling, just to keep himself from getting the heebie jeebies scared out of him. He was a grown adult man. Dead bodies and basements shouldn't freak him out, haha! 

He also hadn't slept in two days. 

He was whistling and grabbing blankets and didn't hear anything at all. So, when he turned around and there was a bloody (literally) (dead?) person standing in front of him, he did whatever any grown adult man would do--

He screamed.

Dian Morey

(tw: BLOOD AND VAMPIRE BITING!!)

Whether it was lucky for Dian or not, his prey, no, Simba, was close enough to his height to put his throat in perfect range. 

The melodic pulsing quickened at the sight of him, Dian didn't care. Not right now. He ignored the screaming, the fear from his friend. Someone he'd known practically his whole life. Grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing his face away, Dian took a bite. The pair stumbled against a shelf of emergency supplies, blood slowly dripping onto blankets.

It felt wrong in his heart. But the hunger was louder than the meek conscience nagging him. It was too loud. The blood was too good. It felt like it was his first meal in years when the liquid filled his mouth. Even with Simba putting up a small fight, Dian couldn't be bothered to stop.

Simba Bonfamille-Lyons

(tw vampire bite/blood)

Simba didn't have a moment to put together what was happen. One second, he was screaming in surprise. The next, Dian had bit him. Bloody bit him! And had him in a firm grip. Simba considered himself a rather strong lad. But he was no match, without even struggling.

At first, he didn't struggle, couldn't struggle. The shock and fear made him cold on the inside. Was this really how he went out after everything? A fucking vampire? 

Ber was going to be pissed. 

Ber.

Simba's body jerked and his fingers went behind him, dropping the towels as a spike of adrenaline shot through him. He really only had one chance of this. He'd been awake for forty eight hours and was now losing blood at a rapid pace. One of the shelves they knocked into happened to be the canned foods shelf and he grabbed one of them, smashing it as hard as he could against the side of Dian's head. Exploding tomato soup all over the both of them.

Dian Morey

(TW: BLOOD MENTION, general thoughts of murder and destruction LOL)

Dian was caught up in his own bloodlust, he didn't pay attention to Simba grasping out for a weapon. 

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered other than consuming all of the blood his prey had to offer. And then he'd follow the scent upstairs. And he'd be a wolf among sheep. A whole flock just above his head, he could hear them. Waiting to be eaten. 

In his fervor to move onto the next meal, he bit down harder. Then as Simba brought down the can, his grip loosened completely and Dian slumped over, losing consciousness right after he had regained it.

Simba Bonfamille-Lyons

(tw blood/wound/injury)

Dian dropped like a bag of potatoes.

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Simba's legs felt like jelly. He didn't think he'd ever been so scared in all of his life, but he tripped over Dian's body trying to jump over him. He clamped his hand down on his neck and started stumbling towards the stairs. 

What the fuck was he supposed to do?

Just as he got his hand on the doorknob, he realized: if he opened this door, the vampire(?!) behind him would be able to do whatever he wanted to any of the innocent people above. 

Fuck. Simba's hand trembled, but he squeezed his eyes tight and then he curled his hand in a fist and turned to walk back down the stairs, holding fiercely to the railing. 

"D-Dian?" His voice was scratchy, his wound pulling as he spoke. Fuck, that hurt.

Dian Morey

The vampire wasn't down for long. He roused to 'life' once again as his friend cautiously walked back down to him.

No, Simba, run away. Run away from me please, the smallest voice begged from within him. Dian rolled over onto his back, not so comfortably on top of some cans that fell in their scuffle. 

He wanted to call back to Simba now that he had a spark of sanity come back after, well, that... but no words could be spoken. All he could do was sing, 

"And you thought the lions were bad, well they tried to kill my brothers." 

The lions, being Simba in this case, as he couldn't fucking say his name. God, this was humiliating, first you become and unruly beast and in your fleeting moments of sanity you have to sing to communicate?? Dian was having a long night.

Simba Bonfamille-Lyons

Simba knew that he didn't have much time. His mind was going a thousand miles a minute. ADHD Marzel had called it, but all he could think was that he couldn't decide if it was helpful in this moment or bloody useless.

He needed to make a plan. He needed to do...something.

What was the weakness of vampires?

Fire? Fire. 

Simba pat at his pocket and pulled out the lighter he had there. Stashed just in case, y'know, the fucking power went out. He ripped off a piece of his sling and lit it up. Just as Dian started singing.

The fuck was that about? He was cursed to sing as well?

"What? None of your brothers are--they're f-fine," Simba stuttered, tripping on a stair, the burning cloth almost swinging back in his face. 

Dian Morey

Dian ran his hands through his hair in frustration, but the action served the dual purpose of getting tomato soup out of his hair. He couldn't help but growl. Huffily, he wiped at his beard still dripping with blood. He shamefully licked his stained hand as he got up from the ground.

It only stung a little that Simba felt the need to arm himself. Dian supposed he couldn't blame him, after having just been attacked. As much as Dian wanted to prove that he wasn't a danger any longer, his newly formed fangs were still elongated and it was getting harder to remember that Simba was his friend. 

"We're nocturnal creatures, drawn to the flame," he sang in reference to the flame Simba now sported. And, well, the fact that Dian was definitely a creature of the night now and that in itself scared the shit out of him. 

But he had said his brothers were fine. That was a relief... and then the intrusive thoughts flooded in. I bet they'd make a good meal. Hungry, so hungry. Dian used his inhumane speed for the first time since he had it. (Human Dian would have tripped over the flat ground if he tried to run like this) The flame was the only barrier between the creature and Simba. The Dian who didn't want to be a monster was glad for it. "How am I gonna get myself back home? How, how, how?" He sang with whatever humanity he could grasp at.

Simba Bonfamille-Lyons

Think, think--what the fuck. 

Dian had this crazy look in his eye that was making Simba extremely nervous, but he had to figure something out. After all, Dian was a vampire. Which made him a danger to literally everyone here. Simba had come a long way on his opinions about vampires but--

Dian had just tried to eat him! 

The lyrics he sang were--weird. Simba knew that song, though he couldn't pinpoint it. 

"Uhhh--right, just--stay back! Stay...back." Simba held out his hands. The fire was eating up the fabric quick. "I gotta--figure out what to do."

Dian Morey

Dian flinched backwards when Simba pushed it closer to him. The flame reflected in his darkened eyes. But it was dying. Simba's seconds to think were dwindling. 

"You might have to excuse me

I've lost control of all my senses" Meaning, I can't fucking stop myself, I'm so sorry.

That tiny thing keeping the beast Dian couldn't control at bay. For seconds. Think faster, Simba. The minority in Dian's head begged. But the majority, the bloodthirsty part, bided its time. 

3

2

1

Time's up. 

The flame burned itself out, and Dian lunged.

Simba Bonfamille-Lyons

(tw elective fasting/cutting w a sword)

This was why Simba hated vampires.

No matter what he tried to think of, he couldn't win. He wasn't strong enough or fast enough. Especially in his sleep deprived state. Especially as hungry as he was. (He'd done his best to fast, so he wouldn't take more supplies than he needed.) He couldn't fight Dian off. There was nothing he could do. 

And Dian couldn't control himself. He didn't blame Dian. But he did blame what he was.

The flame got too close to his hand and he yelped as it went out and he felt, more than heard as Dian lunged, crashing into him again and sending him back against the stairs. Simba, at least this time, landed in a way that he could grab his sword, which he did. Though, the angle was awkward in the close quarters, he managed to slash it across Dian's back several times, as many as it took.

Dian Morey

When the pair stumbled back onto the stairs, Dian leaned in against Simba's protestations.

Teeth bared and fangs nearly grazing his already bloodied throat... then the vampire felt the sting ripping through his back muscles. 

HISSS

Dian reared back and yelled out in pain.

Simba Bonfamille-Lyons

(tw attack)

The pressure of Dian's body on top of his released and Simba didn't even think. His brain was white with panic. He just knew that he had to escape. There were people he needed to protect. A life that he still needed to live. His heart pounded against his chest, reminding him of this. 

Simba's long legs, honed by ears of running and sports, came up and kicked Dian as hard as he could in the gut. The vampire stumbled, missed a step on the stairs, and toppled down the stairs. 

He didn't wait. Simba lurched to his feet and scrambled for the door, grabbing the door handle and then opening it. He slipped through and closed it behind him. Locking it. 

Fuck. 

What was he supposed to do now. His growleth yipped happily at his feet, wagging its bushy white tail. Simba gave him a mock glare. "Some help you were. Come on, I gotta find a scarf or something before someone sees this. And--and figure out who to tell about the vampire in the basement..." 

[doobler]

Strenuous

This was the worst part. Of everything in his entire job description, from constant life-or-death missions to the injuries spurned from them along with a truly horrible case of PTSD, this was the worst, bar none. Nothing could top it. Ever.

"Spartan 113, report to the lab for prosthetic detailing."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jonah cursed, punching the door to his personal quarters so hard that it dented.

"I am confused," Vykan piped up from the cot. "I thought you would be elated to receive a new prosthetic?"

"Sure, after it's all said and done," He shook out his hand. His knuckles burned. "The actual refitting process is hell. Nothing compares to it."

Jonah emphatically gestured to the gap where his left arm would be. As he spoke, he grew angrier.

"The damned thing always takes a few days to get used to, hooking up new tech is long and arduous, the technicians have no souls, they only care about the "experiment", a new piece doesn't stop the HORRIBLE phantom pains, and the wiring being connected to my nerves is like having your goddamned BONES set on fire."

Jonah panted. When he regained his breath, he stood up ramrod straight then sighed.

"Whatever. I'll be back in a bit."

"What if I accompanied you?" 

Vykan looked sympathetic but not in that awful pitying way that Jonah despised. He stood, laying a hand on the Spartan's bad shoulder.

"You've told me our evenings on HALO together temporarily chased away your nightmares," Vykan pressed, sounding more hopeful. "Perhaps my presence now will help?"

Jonah faked rubbing at his sinuses to hide the subtle flush in his cheeks. Damn. He never should've confessed that. Now that the hell of surviving HALO was over, he had to face the odd magnetic pull Vykan always seemed to radiate. Being around the Elite made him dizzy and confused. At the same time, Vykan was being very kind in offering to help. Saying no would be a dick move.

"Okay, okay, maybe that'll work." Jonah peeled off his shirt, rooting around for a tank top. He continued to speak as he dressed. "But if I tell you it's time to leave, you better listen the first time."

"On my honor." 

"Good. Let's go."

Jonah was in a rush heading out the door. He missed the longing expression on Vykan's face.

---

"Take a seat, 113."

Jonah harrumphed at the engineer. As per usual, there were four of them, all with little handheld tablets to jot down data on. The lab was fuller than usual, no doubt the scientists and technicians wanted a closer look at both the new upgraded piece and Vykan himself. They watched with beady eyes as Jonah sat on the examination table and Vykan hovered nearby.

"How did you lose this one?" Jonah never bothered to learn any of the researchers names because he hated them but she looked familiar.

"I was ambushed. On HALO," Jonah snarled. "Sliced clean off by an. An energy sword."

"Did you experience a spike in feelings such as anxiety, panic, or shock when faced with the same weapon that took off your arm in the first place?"

"We're gonna skip the psych eval today," Jonah interrupted. He felt ready to puke. "And go right on ahead to actually fitting the damn thing. Got it? Or I'm leaving."

She sniffled once, scribbled something on her tablet, then moved on. A different scientist came forth with the new prosthetic. It was beautiful in a way. His previous one had been rather bare bones, simplistic armatures and wiring built to be lightweight with enhanced mobility. This one more resembled flesh, its plates shaped like planes of muscle, the bicep, tricep, and forearm sections defined and elegant. The fingers looked a normal size and thickness with articulated joints and an accurately segmented palm.

"Wow," Jonah breathed. "You guys really stepped up your game this time."

"It's a prototype," A third engineer piped up. "A mesh of military grade and civilian appropriate hardware and software. The idea is to give you every advantage on the field while attempting to simulate a realistic flesh arm in equal balance."

"Your feedback will be especially helpful this time and there will be a series of tests for the next week."

"Hey, if it works as good as it looks, I'll do whatever the fuck you ask," Jonah shifted his position, one leg pulled up on the table to give full access to the port in his shoulder. "Fire away."

At first, the hope was only one technician would be needed to affix the arm. As soon as the ball joint latch struck against his shoulder, however, Jonah couldn't help but scream and convulse. The port was a direct line to the nerves in his shoulder. The act of slotting the arm into place meant connecting wires both mechanical and flesh and the process was incredibly painful. He chewed down on his lower lip until it split and bled, finally squirming back and away. As he regained his breath, another technician joined in to help.

The second attempt was worse. Thankfully, a chair and not a human was the closest thing to Jonah. He kicked it hard enough that the window it smashed against fractured but didn't shatter. The latch fumbled and his cry of agony was ear-splitting.

When a third technician moved in to assist, Vykan cut between them.

"Perhaps I can help."

He shimmied up onto the examination table and looked over the Spartan. Jonah had tears prickling in his eyes. Gods. He couldn't even imagine the amount of pain he was in. Vykan held out his hand, his subsequent exhale sounding rather determined.

"You can squeeze as hard as you would care to," Vykan promised gently. "Do not fear hurting me."

Vykan knew his companion was desperate because Jonah took the offering with little hesitation. His skin was so soft and smooth, so unlike an Elite's. The warm caramel tone was rather pretty as well. Vykan swallowed. No, no, not now. Focus.

"Attempt mark three." Was the only spoken warning.

The latch caught the port and Jonah managed not to shriek. He could feel the tendons and muscles and bones in Vykan's hand flex and grind under his grip. When he glanced at the Elite's face, it was calm and cool. Jonah squeezed harder as the technicians readjusted their angle. With a sharp push, the latch and port aligned and the prosthetic slotted into place. Jonah groaned from deep within his chest as sensation tingled quite painfully through his shoulder. He flexed his fingers, listening to the soft little clicks of lightweight metal plates.

"How does it feel?" One technician inquired.

"It's a good weight," Jonah rolled his shoulder, testing the prosthetics full range of mobility. "Not too heavy, not too light, well balanced. I think the strain'll be minimal."

"Test the reaction time, is there any delay?"

"Not that I can tell yet," Jonah flexed his palm over and over. "It's pretty instantaneous. I'm more worried about the grip strength and how long it can hold any input."

"The grip strength should be equal or slightly greater to that of your other arm. As for holding input, it should keep for as long as you will it."

"You got anything to punch? Let's see how much kick this bitch packs."

Vykan watched, his thoughts cloudy and fragmented. It was always a delight to watch Jonah simply exist. He was so much bigger than the average human but always seemed distinctly aware of the space he occupied. When he chatted with Marines, he almost blended in until you took into stock how much more massive he was in comparison. His speech was vulgar, always filled with curses and harsh tones, but once he got on a subject he cared for, his voice softened and his intellect shone through. He carried himself proudly and he was brave and strong and smart and powerful and kind and warm, his eyes were such a fascinating shade of midnight blue, his lips were plump and full, his smile was bright and dazzling and--

"--Vy? You good, pal?"

Vykan jolted back to reality. Oh. Right. Jonah furrowed his brow but smiled.

"We're all done here," He clasped the Elite's shoulder. "C'mon, I'm hungry, let's go get something to eat."

He let Jonah steer him out of lab, his head swivelling around to watch the room as they left. The way the researchers looked back at him, the hunger in their eyes, sent chills down Vykan's spines. Who knew humans could be so haunting?

"You ok?" Jonah stopped once they were a good few halls away. "You full on spaced out there."

"Just acclimating to the situation," Vykan lied smoothly. "That was a rather... Shocking experience."

"Pfft. You're telling me. It gets harder every time. But this puppy right here," Jonah playfully tried to flex his prosthetic arm. "Is top of the class. I can already tell I'm gonna love this piece of shit."

Vykan followed right behind him, his gaze growing glassy as he listened to Jonah ramble on. He rubbed a thumb over his palm, the one Jonah had squeezed, and tried not to think of how nicely their hands had fit together.

[popculturebuffet]

Top 10 Thanksgiving Episodes

Happy Thanksgiving Everybody! Time to eat a ton, pass out, and watch MST3K and all that. And since I already covered most of the general stuff about how diffrent this holiday is in my Loud House Review, and to reitarate to anyone having a big, 20 or so people crammed in a room thanksgiving this year

For the rest of us like all of the big three of Holidays, thanksgivings also the time for some classic episodes of television. Granted most shows stick to one, with some exceptions like friends, roseanne and new girl, but most make their one count. Thanksgiving may not be as big as the holidays it’s sandwitched in between, to the point christmas is slowly but surely trying to swallow it whole, but it’s still a time for family, fighting, and food that brings plenty of opprotunity for greatness and even with a smaller pool, I stiill had signifigant trouble narrowing down my list to 10. But I stand by what I got it wittled down to. This is my top 10 thanksgiving episodes! And for my regular readers, there’s a suprising lack of animation but i’m more than willing ot go outside that and now’s the right time, asi’m currently having a black friday sale with reviews marked down by two bucks to just 3 dollars for an episode of any tv show. Yes it’s a shameless plug but since when have I ever had shame? So with that in mind let’s chow down, it’s my top 10 thanksgiving episodes!

10. Pangs (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) Buffy is as a show I REALLY need to revisit. While lately, what with the abuse he did that we can’t get details on when making justice league or his you know cheating on his wife on and off over a decade, I’m not at all a fan of series creator Joss Whedon, Buffy itself is still a classic in my eyes. 

The tale of a teenager given the role of the Slayer, a chosen female asskicker given moderate super powers and the duty to defend the world from vampires and other ghouls. The show dealt with the usual teen superhero stuff, ballancing asskicking with saving the world and arguably codified the genre, to the point I hold it at least partially responsible for the bigger wave of teen heroes in the 2000′s in animation and comics. The show had smart dialouge, metaphors, mythology and a rich, and vibrant cast. Sure some things haven’t aged well like an adult vampire dating a teenager or the really dated ways Willow’s sexuality were handled, as groundbreaking as it was, from barely letting her kiss her girlfriend or be shown being intimate iwth her, or just entirley shutting out the posiblity she’s bisexual. But a few age wrinkles aside the show is still good and I still need to rewatch it and that includes our number 10 pangs, one of hte most memorable and well done thanksgiving specials and one fo the shows more comedy moments.  It’s thanksgiving, and Buffys mom’s going out of town, so she decides to hold thanksgiving at Giles place to bring her slowly drifting surrogate family together. Naturally given the way things usually go for our Slayer, she has a hard time of it as Willow chafes at celebrating colonolsim, Giles dosen’t get what the big fuss is about that or the meal being british, and Spike shows up looking for protection from season big bads the initiative, a secret military unit that’s chipped him so he can’t harm humans, so he has no way to eat and spends the mal tied to a chair. Oh and of course, a vengeful native american spriti from the chumash tribe has given Xander syphilis and killed a currator as revenge for his people’s suffering, so now Buffy has to fight a ghost bear if she want sa happy thanksgiving. Also Angel is back in town and being kind of a dick, but hey it leads to a good episode of his spinoff so whatever. 

Pangs is just a fun episode, not only does it do well by not ignoring american colonalisim, but it just has a fun energy to it as Buffy desperately tries to have a good thanksgiving, Spike instnatly proves his worth as an addition to the gang both chemstiry and comedy wise, and we of course get this classic moment. 

It had to fight it’s way onto the list, but pangs is a holiday dish worthy of sinking your fangs into. 

9. The Dressing (Aqua Teen Hunger Force) Speaking of nutty fun thanksgiving episodes.. this one is simply that. I love Aqua Teen Hunger force.. even if like a lot of comedy shows it drooped in later seasons, it still has it’s classics earlier on and even later on has a few gems. But on the earlier on side we have their utterly bonkers and delightful thanksgiving episode “The Dressing”, a sequel to the Christmas Episode “The Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past from The Future”, which itself is an utter classic, but we’ll possibly get to that in december’s list. 

The Aqua Teens are having Thanksgiving with Carl, whose naturally onlyt here for the free food and staying outside. it’s also days before or after, with black colored frito pie,a t urkey, and whatever else their broke selves could scrounge up.  However, naturally, like Buffy a normal day for the Aqua Teens just isn’t complete without some weird shit happening, thanksgiving gets interrupted by the cybernetic ghost of Christmas past fromt he future, whose transformed himself into a turkey and wants to save their turkey so it can lead a rebellion in the bizzare hilarious distopian hellscape he comes from. This of course leads to him getting drunk, eating all their food and later showing up with a laser sock to murder carl after the episodes over. It’s just a fun time, a really funny episode and one of the teens more memorable outings. Not a lot to say here, it’s just really damn funny. 

8. Arnold’s Thanksgiving (Hey Arnold!)  Anoter classic I really need to revist but that more than earns his place here. Hey Arnold.. is easily one of the best animated shows ever. I say that with no hyperbole as it handled slice of life well while still getting dramatic when needed to, and is easily the gold standard for slice of life children’s cartoons to this day. And naturally it’s holiday specials were great, and I only r eally haven’t revisited them because they also hurt.. a lot. So unsuprisingly this one makes the list. 

IT’s thanksgiving and given how chaotic things are for both Arnold and Helga’s families, our heroes are miserable. Arnold would understandably like just once to have thanksgiving on thanksgiving, his family instead doing fourth of july due to his grandmother being who she is. And Helga naturally is ignored and mistrteated as usual since her sisters home and her dad and alchoholic mother ignore her as usual even when she’s not around. What i’m saying is while Arnold’s issue is understandable, helga always wins a “whose got the shitter life” contest. 

So the two flee to their teacher Mr Simmons, a character I genuinely loved and loved even more finding out he was gay as an adult, as he was a kind , supportive teacher who could be a bit softhearted but wasn’t afraid to step the fuck up when needed. But they find his thanksgiving isn’t much better, as his Mother and wont’ stop sniping at his boyfriend peter and clearly isn’t entirely comfortable with her son’s sexuality, his friend keeps snapping at peter and mooching off him, and his uncle.. well he’s just a loud asshole who wants turkey.. The kids naturally realize the meaning of the holiday, reconclie with their families who DID take genuine steps to make up for them being gone and missed them, all is well. It just shows nobody’s family is perfect, and is well done in that but also shows why thanksgiving has grown beyond it’s roots: It’s a day for families to get together and even if they may fight, recognize why they love one another. I also give the show balls for heavily imiplying a character is gay and not slapping a girlfriend on him or any of the usual bollocks: Simmons just very clearly is gay and it’s as transparent as the show could get at the time, with the show making it crystal clear years later with the revivial movie. Nice. We’ll have more servings of thanksgiving classics after the cut. 

7. Slapsgiving (How I Met Your Mother) Oh How I Met Your Mother. You started out really good but boy did that go downhill fast and land in a nuclear inferno didn’t it? But I can bitch about the How I Met Your Mother Ending some other time, and probably will. In the show’s prime before they decided to stick with an ending no one wanted anymore, it was pretty great and while season 1′s also impressive Thanksgiving outing “Belly Full of Turkey” was considered, there was ultimately one slaptastic king when it came to Thanksgiving: Slapsgiving. 

Naturally for this show Slapsgiving ties into the show’s suprisngly deep and rich lore: The season before this, Marshall and Barney made a “Slap Bet”, which is exactly what it says on the tin: A bet where the winner slaps the looser. And due to Barney prematurely slapping Marshall, Marshall got 5 penalty slaps to be dolled out whenever, one in that episode and another in a coda to another. For his next one though Marshall decided to outdo himself and set up a counter.. and it all comes down to thanskgiving.  So we get a good ten minutes of Jason Siegel making meancing slap based refrences while NPH’s barney cowers in fear before Marshall’s wife lily pumps the breaks on the bet as comissoner.. only to reconsider when Barney makes the mistake of tormenting Marshall over it, resuling in the inevitible, and in THE thanksgiving song. 

Basically it’s what happen when you give three really funny people a subplot together. Magic happens. The subplot is not bad either as a pre-totallyinsufferabledouchebag Ted hooks up with Robin again over lingering feelings and thanksgiving prep and the two have to deal with that... though it’s mostly funny for Robin’s new boyfriend, who Future Ted acknowledges is barely older than them, but admits to remembering as decrept old man, which results in a  30 something’s dialouge coming out of a very old man and me laughing very hard. A simple joke but one that really works. Overall a slaptacular good time. 

6. Two Turkeys (Brooklyn Nine-Nine)

NINE NINE BITCHES! I’m honestly shocked I haven’t talked about Brooklyn Nine Nine on here already, but it’s easily one of the best sitcoms in recent memory, if not of all time. It has one of the best ensemble casts, great jokes and timing, yet still ballances things out with a sense of realisim beneath the madness> It’s also noticable for holding it’s officers more accountable than most real world police departments, to the point all scripts that were written up for next season were thrown out post George Floyd. It’s truly a joy to watch. 

So naturally they’ve had their share of Holiday episodes, with them easily having the best crop of halloween episodes since roseanne with their annual heists, and having some pretty damn memorable christmases, opening with this:

So naturally thanksgiving is no exception, with it’s last two being the best and it being a really hard choice wether to go with season 4′s “Detective Santiago” or this one. But as good as the other ep was.. this one inched it out for good reason. 

The episode’s split into two equally good, equally hilarious plot lines. In the B-Plot, the 99′s Captain Raymond Holt, one of the best characters in sitcom history and gay icon, and his husband Kevin take their annual trip to get a pie for Holt’s families thanksgiving and come back with the well crafted pie, even if both prefer their food nice and bland. But the pie go missing and Captain Holt procedes to hilariously drill into each of the other members of the 99 and uncovering holes int their previous thanksgving stories with Rosa’s being suprisingly heartwarming (She’s going to a humilating minons on ice show with her family because they reconnected in jail.. setting up the equally awesome “Game Night” episode where she comes out.) and Boyle’s being utterly pathetic as you’d expect (Cooking his son mac and cheese because he’ll eat nothing else and declaring him a “basic bitch”). The solution however ends up being heartwarming as the culprit is actually Kevin, who hated the pie.. as did Raymond who suggests just taking the drive anyway because they enjoy the silent ride there and back every year. It may be boring to us.. but it’s preicious and really sweet all the same.. as it is hilarous when Kevin treats this as a big endugence and seems turned on by that. What i’m saying is these men are couple goals and Marc Evan Jakcson was awesome long before ducktlaes.  The main plot is also great, as Jake and Amy, now engaged after this year’s halloween episode which is also , coincidentally, the series best, try to unite their families. It just goes about as well as you’d expect as Amy’s are type a control freaks, jake’s mom is a retired hippie school teacher and his dad is a human disaster area who has to be told to put on pants, cheated on his mom constantly, somehow got her back, and in general is barely functional on a good day. The families do bond breifly but things ineveitbly break down, hilarity and severed limbs insue and family comes together. IT’s just a funny, well done 20  mintues that’s also really damn sweet, with this plot ending with Amy’s dad accepting the chaos as that’s’ts what you do with family. Also jake naturally finds out he has a ton of step siblings as his dad was and still is a man whore. Happy Thanksgiving!

5. Bart Vs Thanksgiving (The SImpsons)

Let’s face it: if you follow my reviews at all you knew this was coming. While not one I go back to due to being an emotional kidney punch, i’d be doing this list a diservice if this classic wasn’t on there.  In a nutshell, Bart starts a petty fight with Lisa over her centerpiece that ends with it in the fireplace, Bart sent to his room till he apologizes, and Bart seething insiting he did no wrong. It takes a visit to the homeless shelter after running away, and ending up on the news, to realize what an ass he’s been and one nightmarish dream sequence later, seriously why do you think I don’t revisit this one that often? This thing has traumatized me since I was a kid and unlike the slap song I will not be showing it to you, has a heartwarming reconcliation with his sister on the roof. It’s just a nice, sweet special that gets the holiday just right and i’d expect nothing less from Golden Age Simpsons.  

4. A Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving (Gilmore Girls) Another show I need to talk about more, Gilmore Girls is fucking awesome. The story of a woman who ran away pregnant at age 16 and built her own life for her daughter in the quirky town of stars hollow who finds herself reconnecting with her parents in present day against her will.. is really good stuff. Funny, heartfelt and really damn well acted with one hell of a cast, the show is part of me and I make no bones about that, so it’s big thanksgiving outing naturally belongs on here.  The premise is simple: Rory and Loreli end up having to go to four diffrent thanksgivings, which even for big eaters like them is a massive task, each unique and entertaining. The main event of course is Suki’s, where everyone’s faviorite chef agreed to let her husband cook the turkey.. of course with the plan to sneak in mid cooking and add her own touches. This gets foiled when Jackson and his family decide to deep fry the thing.. probably in part because Jackson knows his wife well and knows what she was planning. Though over the night while our heroines are at their other meals, it devolves into them deepfrying everything they can get their hand son including a shoe, and Suki getting plastered to tolerate it.  While not topping it the other meals and the sheer lunacy of four thanksigvings in one day, are still memorable: There’s the natural posh one at Richards and Emilys, the dour joyless one at The Kims where Mrs Kim forces the band to play the whole time and forces our heroines to eat food as joyless as Mrs. Kim, and Lukes for a nice round of Rory grappling with having PDA with her boyfirend Jess before resolving it at the end. Also dean’s a jackass. No one is suprised. Jess isn’t one at this stage in his character which is. Also Kirk adopts a cat that slowly pushes him out of his own house which works comedically becaus Sean Gunn is a national treasure. Overall a really good episode and if you have netflix and haven’t checked the series out, this is a good one to try out. 

3. The Thanksgiving Special (Regular Show) I already talked about this one in my top 11 Regular Show episodes so i’ll try to be brief. In a nutshell Mordecai and Rigby destroy thanksgiving and genuinelly feeling bad about it, scramble to win a thanksgiving bird from a Thanksgiving Song Contest, going up against an all star super group comissioned by Donald Trump. Yes really. Meanwhile Muscle Man and High Five Ghost go to get sides and the  rest of the park staff’s attemtps to get a turkey are thwarted by a bunch of thanksgiving reinactors who go unexplained in any way shape or form which given how rare that is for regular show, which usually has some sort of explination for the madness, just makes it funnier. It ends with a REALLY touching song, a fight on a blimp with outgoing president trump, and a truly heartwarming thanksgiving meal. All in all a nice special that combines the shows madcap nature with the genuine warm fuzzies of thanksgiving. 

2. We Gather Together (Roseanne) Another series I need to talk about more.. and another series where one of the creators has turned out to be a terrible human being. Seriously Roseanne Barr is is a terible person, she deserved to be removed from her show, and while the Conner’s isn’t GREAT it’s still FAR better without her. That being said I will still stick up for the original as she wasn’t the only one involved (indeed the aformentioned Joss Whedon worked on the show breifly and Gilmore Girls creator Amy Sherman Paladino not only worked there but later adapted one of Roseanne’s insane antics, making all the writers wear caps with a number instead of referring to them by name , to Gilmore Girls.). Her being a bad person even then dosen’t change the fact that the show is sitcom gold, one of my faviorite shows, and a true classic. And this episode helps showcase WHY. 

What makes this episode special, even among Roseanne episodes is it’s structure: While there are things going on it’s mostly a free floating day in the Families life and thus feels like your there with them through thanksgiving. It feels genuine, like past thanksgivings i’ve remembered: Everyone has their own stuff going on, they all eat, and there’s naturally a big blowup.. and one that eveyrone else ignores to eat which I can relate  to. That authenticity really elevates the episode and is why I seek it out every year. 

That’s not to say nothing happens, it just flows in and out like it would in a normal thanksgiving. Roseanne deals with her parents, a pre-abuser version of her dad and her overbearing nightmare of a mother beverly, and the inevetible blow up when Bev’s needling about Jackie’s life goes too far , prompting Jackie to reveal her new job as a police officer before bursting into tears, all to Roseanne’s annoyance. Rosie also moves them to a hotel despite an attempted guilt trip from her mom. 

Speaking of Mom’s we see Dan’s for the only time before the later seasons and the utterly terrible last season, a professional career woman whose moved on well from her ex and brought her new boyfriend there. Ed, despite some comptemplation over it is firmly accepting and instead starts flirting with the Conner’s friend Crystal. Dan, being overprotective because of his Daddy Issues, but ed cals him out on it “Being lonely is a hell of a lot for two people to have in common, you woudln’t knwo anything abotu that son, and I pray to god you never do” A great caper to a fantastic episode.. one I thought was going to top the list... THOUGHT is the key word here...

1. Turkey in A Can (Bob’s Burgers) This one is. Bob’s Burgers is one of the best things to come out of the 2010′s and i’ve fallen way too far behind on it, so I can’t say if any thanksgivings after thankshoarding top this one.. what I can say is this one is the gold standard for thanksgiving episodes, and is filled with great stuffing. 

Thanksgiving is Bob’s holiday. Being a chef he loves the chance to go all out, and really flex his muscles for his families when it comes to cooking up a storm, and it’s endearing when bob gets just as nuts as his family. But this year someone keeps flushing his turkeys down the toilet despite his best efforts, so while Louise hilariously tries to solve things to proe it wasn’t her (though it’s entirely fair they thought it was her consdering.. everything), while LInda, Gene and LInda’s flighty sister Gale try to write THE thanksgiving song. And while it’s no you just got slapped, damn if they didn’t succeed. 

Sailors in your mouth indeed. It leads to plenty of great jokes the best being the guy at the Deli Counter thinking Bob’s into him and bob not being sure how to respond, but being mildly recpetive. But the climax is what makes the episode as when Bob falls asleep we find his medication has been making him sleepwalk.. and thus put the turkey s int he toilet, as Tina’s desire to be at the Grown Up Table, itslef a REALLY funny runner as you’d expect, has him panicking internally and thus reliving her potty training. The episode ends with Bob letting her come to the adults table, and a rather heartwarming thanksgiving feast. All in all an excellent episode. It also leads to the chaos seen above whic hif htat’s not thanksgiving, I don’t know what is. 

Have a happy thanksgiving and check out my black friday sale! Until then there’s always another rainbow!

[onewfantaesy]

Monsters in the Dark (Part 3)

(tw: ed)

It’s once he’s on his own that things get really bad. Not just going solo, but all the others are doing their military service at the same time. He’s completely alone. It allows Taemin to be swallowed up entirely by his own thoughts, allows him to fast for days on end without anyone really being able to notice. Sure, managers get concerned, stylists mention the bags under his eyes, backup dancers have to put a hand on his arm to steady him when he stumbles, but they don’t really say anything. Not like the others would. Taemin takes advantage of it, even if he hates it with every ounce of his being.

He misses them, and it hurts so much, so he drowns the hurt with hunger pains instead.

But after the first few months of what feels like complete solitude, he can’t keep up with the fasting. It’s been so long - so long - since he started all of this, and he’s lost track of time, and he can’t remember when anything started or how or why. But the fasting, he just can’t do it.

He starts binging worse than he ever has before. Weeks on end of stuffing his face with anything he gets his hands on, anything to fill the void in his chest. He gains so much weight so quickly that he’s terrified to step on the scale, but he has to, he has to weigh himself every single morning compulsively.

More binging leads to more purging. It becomes a daily occurrence, sometimes multiple times a day, and his throat burns so bad but he can’t stop.

Then SuperM becomes a thing. He’s suddenly thrust into this group with members he isn’t used to, with members who aren’t used to him, who haven’t grown accustomed to his fucked up eating patterns. With SHINee, his eating had become so fucked up so gradually that no one really noticed; it was like growing taller, you don’t notice when a child grows up when you live with them. But these new members? They send him funny looks when he picks at a salad, when he drinks five cups of black coffee in less than two hours, when he pulls out an emergency cookie from his dance bag and shoves it in his mouth to stop himself from passing out mid-rehearsal.

And Taemin wasn’t used to them, either. He’s grown accustomed to SHINee’s particular brand of bickering, it no longer gave him the stomach-churning reactions it used to. But these six new members? Especially the younger ones? God, they bickered about anything and everything. It wasn’t always serious, it was sometimes very lighthearted, but the way their voices rose so quickly, the way they talked over each other and made things clatter all over the room, it made Taemin’s anxiety spike higher than usual, sending him bolting to bathroom to gag over a public toilet.

He hates nothing more than falling in a public bathroom, bent over a toilet that who knows how many gross fucks took a shit in with their asses sweaty from dance practice sitting on the rim. It made the nausea so much worse. Made his puking so much more violent.

“Are you okay?” Baekhyun asks, and he’s taken over the role of leader rather well, if Taemin is being honest.

“Fine,” he chokes back.

“Do you want a water?” Baekhyun asks. “You should lay down on the couch when you’re finished. Take a rest.”

“Thank you,” Taemin says inbetween spitting out whatever’s left in his mouth. “Sorry.”

Baekhyun holds him upright as they walk back to the practice room, and he lowers Taemin very gently onto the couch in the corner. Jongin sits with him then, running a hand through Taemin’s hair to try and soothe the headache Taemin lied about having. The younger ones are quiet then, speaking softly to each other after shyly asking Taemin if he was alright.

“Just tired,” he says, his eyes closed.

“You should stay at my place tonight,” Jongin says softly.

“That’s alright.”

“Please,” Jongin says, his voice close to pleading. “Just humor me. I worry about you.”

Taemin stays at Jongin’s that night, the two of them curled on the bed with Taemin’s back pressed against Jongin’s chest. It’s comforting. Taemin is glad he went, glad he let Jongin hold him even if he was afraid of him feeling the way Taemin’s hipbones didn’t poke out the same anymore.

But he doesn’t have to live with this new group. Doesn’t have to around them constantly. It’s a freedom Taemin wishes he had cherished more when he realizes just what sharing a dorm in Los Angeles means.

He needs his own room. He desperately needs to get a single room, to not share with anyone, to have his own bathroom, otherwise they’ll find out, they’ll know, they’ll all know. It makes his heart race and he almost falls over and his hands are shaking when he picks a number to pick a room.

He thanks God and all his lucky stars that he managed to snag the room he wanted. Thanks his seniority and the fact that they essentially gave in and let him have it. Falls on the bed while clutching his chest because his heart hurts, it hurts so bad, he’d been so freaked out about having to share a room or a bathroom and having to work so much harder to hide the purging.

He wants the pain in his chest to stop, so he pinches his legs hard, punches them, squeezes them until bruises start spreading across his skin. He punches his thigh so hard it makes him gasp and fall over and hide his face in a pillow. Fuck. Fuck, that had actually hurt more than he meant to hurt it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The others don’t seem to notice the way he drags his right leg when he does finally leave his room. Well, Jongin notices, and he whispers in Taemin’s ear to ask what happened, and Taemin just snorts.

“Hit it on the corner of the bed,” he mumbles, trying to look embarrassed.

Jongin laughs and hugs Taemin close to him on the couch.

“Does anyone want pizza?” Mark asks, having already downloaded Postmates and looked at all the available options.

Everyone else loudly agrees, asks for specific toppings, asks for chicken wings and breadsticks, and the idea of that much bread at one time almost gives Taemin a panic attack.

“No thanks,” Taemin eventually says, and everyone looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “I’m not really hungry.”

“You hardly ate anything on the plane,” Jongin says softly, and everyone else has gone back to talking with each other. “Are you not feeling well?”

“Traveling just makes me queasy,” Taemin laughs it off. “My tummy’s upset, that’s all.”

And he leans heavily against Jongin and closes his eyes and nuzzles his face in Jongin’s neck. Jongin pouts and hugs him and joins in on the conversation while Taemin stays quietly nestled against him.

Taemin ends up eating a piece of cheese pizza and a cinnamon breadstick and it feels like a huge lump in his stomach, he hates it.

He feels his breathing quicken and then he feels the way the saliva pools in his mouth and he has to rush to his bathroom so he doesn’t end up puking on the floor.

“Taemin?”

He hates that Jongin is coming over to him, sitting on the bathroom floor with him, rubbing his back and whispering soothing words to him. He hates that puking always makes his eyes burn with tears, hates that when he pulls his head away from the toilet that Jongin wipes the tears away with his thumbs.

“You worried the kiddies,” Jongin teases, helping Taemin up and flushing the toilet for him, then guiding him to the sink to brush his teeth. “You should take a shower and go to bed. Do you want me to stay with you?”

Don’t let him stay, the voice says.

“Please,” Taemin croaks. “Please stay.”

Traitor, the voice calls him.

Jongin stays with him, makes sure he doesn’t fall over in the shower and crack his head open, and gets him into bed.

“I’m just gonna go change,” Jongin says softly. “I’ll be right back, if you still want me to stay.”

“Don’t leave,” Taemin begs, gripping Jongin’s hand. “Please stay.”

“What’s wrong?” Jongin asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he sits back down on the bed.

“Traveling,” Taemin lies again. “Just makes me sick. And - and-”

He wants to tell Jongin. He wants to tell someone, anyone, that he can’t eat anything without puking, that he hates the way he looks, that he hates food but he loves food but he hates eating but he loves eating and it’s so confusing and he can’t handle it anymore.

“I’m lonely,” he says instead.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin whispers, laying down and hugging Taemin. “I’ll stay here. Can I shower in here?”

“Yeah,” Taemin whispers. “Can wear my other pajamas.”

They’re all too big for him anyway. They’ll no doubt fit Jongin.

He makes Jongin stay with him a few more minutes before he lets him go shower. Then Jongin stays with him until he falls asleep, falls into dreams about bread getting stuck in his throat as he pukes it back up and choking him until he dies. When he wakes up, Jongin isn’t in the bed anymore, but he can hear him whispering just outside the door.

He’s telling Baekhyun that Taemin got sick, that he was lonely and wanted Jongin to stay in his room that night. Baekhyun says they can talk about it in the morning, when Taemin is awake and hopefully feeling better.

Taemin doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to deal with it. He doesn’t want help. He wants to just ignore it all, to pretend that nothing is wrong.

“Traveling,” he continues with the lie the next morning, “just makes me a little queasy sometimes. Especially when it’s international.”

They all seem to believe him. Taemin is thankful, and he pours himself a third cup of black coffee and ignores the way the younger members look concerned and whisper about too much caffeine.

[mcybebailey]

TASK 002: (BAILEY PYO’S) MEMORIES

    /       peeks into her past ,  near and far.

a  memory  of  when  they  felt  HAPPINESS

her and arden hadn’t been friends for very long. it’s only been a few weeks since she’s arrived at cape coral. but the other girl is nice, and smart, and so very warm that  she’s one of the first people that bailey decides to try with. it’s been a challenge, trying to tell herself that arden is not like the people from her past. so her inquiry on what arden plans to do after this is meek, maybe even hesitant. but still, she asks, and her heart is pounding much too fast for something so simple. 

“do you want to come over?” 

the offer from arden takes her by surprise.  it’s small, but it ignites a type of joy she hasn’t felt in awhile. an excitement, more like. seeing a friends place, unlocking a part of the other that maybe could blossom into more. 

she knows she can’t be too excited. it’s too soon, too early to tell, but bailey can’t help herself from smiling. from the possibility of it happening, finding a real friend after so long. it’s perhaps the largest smile arden has seen from her so far, as she nods. 

“i’d love to!”

‏‏‎ ‎

a  memory  of  when  they  felt  PAIN  (  anxiety tw  )

 she doesn’t know what’s happening, really. she just knows she feels like she can’t breathe and it’s too much. too much. too much. too fucking much. she only vaguely recognizes the scenery out the bus window, all vignettes under the filter of her own panic, her own fear. her head is spiraling, thrown off the axis she so desperately tries to cling on to  -  has tried to cling on to since she arrived in that godforsaken school. she feels like the world is falling in over her head, crushing her under it’s weight and leaving her only broken bones and ruptured insides to drag herself back home. she can’t hold it up over her head anymore. she’s not atlas, she’s just a girl. 

but her father expects atlas. expects the strength and perfection, wants the success for her. but she can’t give that to him. so when he finds her crying on the dirty brown couch, back at home in portland, telling him that she doesn’t want to go back, she expects his reaction.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?”

and still, bailey flinches. her heart drops, and the panic she’s felt in ebbs and flows the past ten hours spikes with the way the pain stabs right through her stomach. he screams, paces, cards over the words again and again. ungrateful, lazy, failing. her sisters watch from the stairs, her mother quietly sits off to the side. they watch as bailey feels like whatever is remained of her that she so desperately has clinged on to rip and wash away with the red of her father’s dismay. she shrinks, shrinks, shrinks with the hurt, feeling herself grow small, becoming nothing. disappear with the painting of sheer disappointment in her father’s face etched permanently into wisps of whatever impression she leaves behind sitting on the couch.

‏‏‎ ‎

a  memory  of  when  they  felt  TRUST

when his steps fall in line with her, all bailey can initially do is blink up, confused at him. she’s not sure why this happened. why he’s here, next to her, walking together off to the building for their next classes. 

tybalt song, of everyone in the world? her younger self would’ve thought that was impossible. all these years past, all she knew of him was his strange winking, and words that would make her blush. hell, she didn’t think she’d see him again, at least not for awhile. so when she saw him in cape coral the first time, she didn’t think she’d be someone he’d want to to associate with. yet, he was the one to pull her into conversation, actually engaging instead of regarding it as some business deal.

and strangely, bailey doesn’t push away. it’s only been a few days since he began to hang out with her, and yet, she doesn’t sense any malice from him. they talk casually as they walk. it’s friendly, even. she doesn’t know how it happened, but it did and it’s nice. she thinks, somehow, she trusts him a little now.

‏‏‎ ‎

a  memory  of  when  they  felt  ANGER

she hates this. she’s looking into the mirror, and she hates the clothes she’s being forced into. hates how she looks in them, hates how her father insists on putting her in dumb dresses. ‘look like a lady’, her ass. the pink is ugly, the way it hugs her boobs makes her want to puke. she feels the anger and disgust raise up in her chest, pulling at the fabric with her hands, frustrated and helpless. bailey is sixteen, for fuck’s sake! she should be able to wear whatever she wants, even to some high uppity dinner party. her mom and dad insist on dressing her, obviously having a distaste for whatever she’s going to pick out. she feels like some doll, fit to their liking to be shown off to some dumb rich friend of their’s. bailey tugs at the fabric, tightening her jaw, body heating up with the frustration. 

‏‏‎ ‎

a  memory  of  when  they  felt  LONELY

one week. one week since she fought with them. and yet it feels like she’s never known the at all. was this was she looked like before? whispering and laughing so freely, sharing knowing glances? seeing them as an outsider now makes her stomach lurch. she watches them, walking past her at the lockers, giggling among themselves as they ignore her. act as if she doesn’t exist  --  as if the past 7 years of friendship never happened. never meant anything to them.

and maybe it never did mean anything to them. because that’s what it seems like to her. it never mattered to amanda, or violet, or helena. it definitely doesn’t seem to matter to rose. not rose, definitely not her. what does nine years of pinkie promises and shared tears ever mean to her? the person who got her to speak. to be brave. barely spares her a glance even when they sit next to each other in ap literature.

bailey is disposable to them. she should have known. should have seen the signs. noticed the shared snickers, the secret group chats, the lack of invitations. should have severed herself before they could hurt her. 

but she didn’t. she couldn’t. they mean- meant so much to her that she was willing to bear the pain, bear the signs. and now, she’s paying for it. left in this hallway, watching them walk by her like she’s invisible when they used to stop to wait, like some the rat they so claimed she was   -   feeling completely, and utterly, alone.

 ‏‏‏‏‎ ‎ 

a  memory  of  when  they  felt  LUST

it’s not like bailey hasn’t ever kissed people. okay, well, she’s kissed one person before and that was last year at her old college. but still, she can’t be that bad right? not when she seems to be responding well. sure, they’re in the middle of a party, but bailey thinks they’re tucked off into a pretty dark corner in the kitchen. enough that people wouldn’t be walking in on them anytime soon. so maybe, she lets herself go a little. 

it feels nice, for sure, even if she’s still hesitant. she’s only just met alia properly tonight, despite having some classes together. but she’s cute, and knows what she’s doing, so bailey meekly rests her hand on the other’s shoulder. 

and just as it starts to feel really good, they break away, needing air, panting for breath. bailey looks back at alia sheepishly, smiling so slightly. but all the girl does is stare back. she blinks, maybe a little confused, but eventually, she recognizes the dark look in alia’s eyes. she’s seen it before, mostly in media, or read about it. but to have it directed at her... to know that she feels similarly: the spark, the want, that... hunger. and it absolutely terrifies her.

 “i-i’m sorry, i have to- i have to go-” she blubbers out quickly, clumsily, jumping down the counter, bumping into alia. she doesn’t know why she’s so so scared, pulling back so fast. and before she can hear a word of protest or confusion, bailey’s left the house completely.