#kicking her little foot in the edges of my vision

[grison-in-space]

The face of a little dog very Concerned that I am missing bedtime and torn between accepting small "snooze" bribes to let me finish my episode and bullying me into going to bed and COMPLETING the ROUTINE

[talulajones-stories]

Klonnie Week - First Kiss

Southern Louisiana only has two seasons. Summer and Almost Summer. Summer lasts nine months of the year with a reprieve from the sweltering heat lasting only three months. Almost Summer, that cool part of the year consisting of December, January and February, is when the temperature drops down dramatically to the tepid seventies and people come out their shaded rooms and from under their ceiling fans to engage with one another without fear of heatstroke to picnic and visit their neighbors and sleep on their screened-in porches.

In the middle of September all of this is a distant fantasy.

Mosquitoes bite at the back of Bonnie's legs and the fleshy part of her arms, and she listens to cicadas string a symphony, an ode to heat, and looks out over the entire back yard of the Farmhouse, where Klaus has brought her, and everything is green, green, green. Technicolor green. Green everywhere. Even the pond where Klaus has begun her tutelage and is telling her to walk across is green.

"You can't be serious," Bonnie says, turning up her lip, because even though Klaus may call this grassy hole in the ground a pond, from where she stands on the rickety wooden landing, she can't see the bottom.

"We begin with the basics," he declared, stopping abruptly. "Concentration is key. You'll accomplish nothing if your mind is scattered.," He smirks, "Now come on with it, Bonnie. Walk across the pond." He states annoyed with her reluctance.

He leaves her without the encouragement he had shown her previously when it came time for her to display her magic and she feels a little slighted and insecure despite all the growth she had achieved for herself on her own last night.

Pulling at the laces of her boots, she tosses them to the side, bracing herself at the edge of the water in the clothes he picked up out of the nearest Walmart. Acid wash shorts and a thin t-shirt with the slogan, "Girls Rule, Boys Drool" in bright pink across her bra-less breast.

You’ve set a man on fire, Bonnie, you can do this. You can do this, she repeats in a loop while chiding herself for the childish want she has for Klaus to come over and hold her hand.

He yells at her not to take all day.

She closes her eyes, one-foot hovering over the water when he bellows from the opposite side of the pond, and she sinks.  Straight to the bottom, water filling her nostrils and over her head.

She flails about, splashing around, she kicks and kicks, and a white hand darts in her watery vision, and grabs her by the collar.

She gasps. Sputtering water and turning to her savior.  

He had jumped in, swimming them both to the bank, “We must add swimming lessons to your training,” He says, as they both trudge through the mud to the high dry grass.

She's annoyed and angry. 

"You knew I couldn’t do it." Soaked, she wrings out her hair, her shirt clinging to her breasts and taut stomach, her shorts, damp and dirtied from sitting on the ground next to him. "I can’t walk on water."

Klaus lies back on his elbows, casually picking at the grass while admiring the way her clothes cling to her. “That was the Nazarene, love. I want you to levitate over the water.”

She eyes him, noticing his red mouth curled into a smirk. “Levitate, huh?” she says, glancing back at the pond.

“Connect to your magic.” He urges, taking a blade of grass to gently stroke her arm. 

She looks down at him, remembering how the night before she had bodied her would-be kidnappers. “Those men were trying to kill me, I was scared and full of rage, is that where my magic lies?” 

He sits up, cavalier in his response, “It was the strongest emotion for you to tap into then, but it’s not the only source,” Klaus explains, his voice softening, his mischievous mouth tender in describing, “A witch’s magic has three access points.” He places a finger gently at her temple. “Her mind,” he says, trailing his hand down to the center of her chest, “her heart,” and then, with a sly grin and a raised eyebrow, his eyes lower suggestively, “and from the very source of life itself.”

She likes the way he looks in this moment, his face close to hers, his strong brow relaxed and smooth. It's as if being here with her is the only thing that matters, and she feels warmth spread inside her that has nothing to do with the sun. Without warning, she kisses him—a quick press of her lips to his, a smile almost dancing across her mouth as she does it, knowing she has caught him off guard.

The suddenness startles Klaus; there’s an imperceptible flinch that he quickly recovers from, a glint of surprise and something more in his eyes. Her smile deepens against his lips, and he kisses her back—less playful, more hungry. She responds with a soft moan as his tongue slides into her mouth, his hands pulling at her waist, urging her closer, until she’s almost beneath him.

Needing to catch her breath, Bonnie pulls away slightly, still close enough his lips brush hers. “Okay, I’m ready to levitate over water,” she smiles, determined.

Klaus laughs softly, his voice a low rumble. “I’ll be here to pull you out if you drown again, love.”

[iwaasfairy]

bones and all +hq! (anyone) just something super fucked up with lots of blood 💋🫀

this was so sexyyyy idk I’m very into gross icky blood stuff rn

tw murder, gore, yandere

Red coats the walls. It splatters out into grasping hands with each brutal blow, baseball bat full of nails shattering the bone below it until the whining dies down. Along with the frantic screaming, and you sink to your knees at the sight. Within seconds, your housemate has been reduced to a heap of meat and bone and sinew, leaving her coppery tang in the air. Your legs have buckled, and now you’re on the cold floor, there’s nothing you can do but watch and shake.

The blood pools under her legs, because those are intact -upper body too. But gunk and brain matter is spilled on your floor, and the puddle of red gains surface the longer you stare, trying not to hurl your guts out. If you could look away you would. If you could run, you would. A low puff of air sounds, before the invader turns on his heel and stares you down. “There she is.” It’s faint, almost apologetic in its delivery. He pulls the mask down his mouth as he wipes the back of his hand over his face.

Your hands shake uncontrollably in your lap, and the stinging in your face surges through your bones. Atsumu.

“Ya missed my entrance,” he’s got a grin on his face - but his eyes are so blown out it’s hard to believe it really is him. For a few moments, he looks entirely, sickly unfamiliar. Not long enough to give you time to collect yourself before he approaches though, dragging the bloody bat along with him. “Sorry ‘bout yer little friend. Came at me with scissors… The bitch’s almost as wild as you are when yer upset.”

He has a frown on his face when he looks back, but the slightest curl to his lips doesn’t slip. His hands come up to hold onto your shoulder as he sighs. “So,” he lets out a soft hum, and then thumbs along your cheek with his hands still stained, bloodied as he touches you, “r’ya ready ta go?” You can’t help but feel bad. Even moving your eyes up to look at him feels like it’s taking all the energy you have.

This is all your fault. Atsumu came for you. You’d signed the papers and found a friend to live with, and you had hoped that would’ve been enough - but you didn’t think… you- Nao tried to protect you, and now she’s gone. There was a time you would’ve trusted Tsumu with your life. “Y-you,” your throat locks up when you say it, and the wobbly vision gets too much, spilling over, “wh-what did you do? Why?”

The blond barely pulls up his nose, before giving you a look. “Didn’t ya hear me? I came in through the window an’ she came at me. Couldn’t be helped.” The way his hand is still around the makeshift weapon somehow doesn’t convince you of his perceived innocence. Almost as soon as you think that, he follows your gaze, and slowly starts chuckling as he realizes the same thing. “Baby doll…”

You scramble. Atsumu drops the bat to crash himself into you and grab at your arms, but one well aimed kick onto his knee has him wincing, and it gives you just enough time to get up and dash towards the door. That also means running through the pool of liquid slowly drying on the floor, but your vision’s so blurry that you don’t even register it. You slip as you slam the door behind you and Tsumu curses— your heart’s pumping so hard you don’t hear it.

Not until someone gets a fistful of your hair and yanks you back so hard you think your scalp might come clean off. Until you land in the cold gravel and a foot pushes into your soft throat. Tsumu’s able to make it out narrowly before your vision starts blurring at the edges, and you claw at the limb for air. “Samu, ya’ll hurt ‘er.” As soon as you get a tiny bit of leeway you’re grabbing at the skin and hacking up spit, painfully tight airways burning.

Osamu only glares back at the blond. “‘I got it covered, Samu. Don’t be a bore, Samu,’” he mocks, before crossing his strong arms over his chest. “Yer sloppy, ‘n lucky I was ‘ere ta stop ‘er.”

“Yea, yea,” the other man sighs, before he crouches by you and lovingly brushes your hair away from your face. “Yer cute when ya try so hard, y’know. Gets us going.” He snickers, then raises a brow. “Samu won’t admit it but it gets him goin’ too. But next time ya get caught… we’ll take one of yer fingers. That’s only fair.”

[astarionmademewriteit]

Death Would be Too Easy

Astarion (Unascended) x (unnamed Durge) female reader/tav

Rating: Explicit

MDNI. 18+ ONLY. Blank bios will be blocked.

Wordcount: 5k

Tags: Smut; Act 3 Durge spoilers; Blood, gore and violence; Suicide attempt (tav); Drowning; Fingering; Piv sex; Slight Sub/Dom dynamic; Tiny fluff ending.

Summary: Dark urge tav has had enough of killing and the subsequent loneliness in her life and decides to try and end it. Astarion comes to her rescue, commiserates with her suffering and tries to make her (and himself) feel better.

Author note: This is my first fic so be kind 🥲

I glance around the forest, shrouded in darkness–not a sound save the lively insects and the occasional hoot of an owl. I drag the body of my victim to the edge of an unsuspecting ditch and let them fall to the ground. I huff out of exhaustion, considering I haven’t slept in what felt like ages. I wipe the sweat from my brow and place a foot on the back of my victim, ready to dispose of them for good.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

I glance down at the blood on my hands–recognizing the ways in which my thrill for killing has slowly lost its edge. I send a quick prayer to father, but it is empty–hollow and missing its usual vigor. I sigh deeply, transfixed on washing away the evidence from my brutal killing. The blood seeps into every pore of my skin, almost as if my body invites its welcome essence.

I glance down at my victim, their eyes gouged out of their skull, blood leaking from every stab wound inflicted to their chest and abdomen. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. A wave of guilt washes over me. It has been decades since I felt any remorse for my actions. However, having been displaced from my home and severed from all my familial and cult ties, a little bit of humanity seeps into my very soul. I kick their body down into the ditch, the lifeless husk crashing into roots and stone until it comes to rest on the banks of a ravine.

I turn back to the forest, peering into the dark. I feel something’s eyes on me, traipsing through the dark with a curious gaze. I brush it off–not the slightest concern tugs at my mind. I am the most dangerous thing lurking in these woods. I start back towards camp, looking forward to a quick dip in the lake.

I pass by my companions, sleeping soundlessly around the fire–the others tucked away in their tents awaiting dawn’s kiss. I note Astarion is not in his bedroll, no doubt suckling from some unappetizing beast. It’s almost comforting to know that I am not the only nighttime killer, even if no one else is aware that I too lurk in the shadows, killing innocent lives in the name of a God who has not seen it necessary to save me from this predicament I have found myself in. I cannot help but wonder why I continue to ritually murder fellow vagabonds, especially when I receive no reward–not even the pleasure that used to accompany slaughter.

I shake my thoughts away and walk to the shore, watching as the moonlight bounces off the gentle waves that lap against my feet. I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it overhead, discarding it further up the beach. I move to my pants, unlacing them slowly, savoring the way the cool night air kisses my bloodstained skin. Once my clothes have been discarded, I test the water, it was cool but not unbearable. I let my hair down and wade into the refreshing water.

The blood slides from my skin and tendrils of red swirl along the surface of the water as I venture deeper into the pond. I dive the rest of the way in, ready to rid myself of the violence I committed earlier. I sink to the bottom, and for a moment, I will myself to stay. Perhaps I should die here. End my suffering. Bhaal knows that if I left this world, then it would be saved from any more of the suffering I would be forced to unleash.

My vision goes blurry. If I weren’t under water, tears would surely slip from my eyes. I squeeze my eyes shut. They would be false tears. A cold-blooded murderer does not weep for its victims. That’s all I am after all–heartless, unfeeling, an empty shell for my father to puppet.

Darkness begins to take over my vision, my lungs yearn for breath and my body is in agony. I would be better off dead. I will never love. I will never know a gentle touch. I am doomed to a future filled with blood and gore. At least this way I can save what little soul I have left.

My head grows foggy and I can feel my heart slowing. My body is ready to gasp for air that will not come. Instead my lungs will fill with water and I will sink away, forgotten by the world. I have made my peace with that.

Before I can drift away, a loud splash interrupts my thoughts. I dare not open my eyes or break my concentration. My body will want to reach the surface, and I am unwilling to allow my antagonisms to ruin this world. A pair of strong arms wrap around me roughly and pull me to the surface. I try to fight against my so-called rescuer–beating at their chest and fighting against their grip… to no avail. My head breaches the surface and my body instinctively pulls air into my lungs. I gasp loudly, welcoming the air as it enters my agonizingly painful lungs.

I cough uncontrollably, my head swimming with pressure. Once I catch my breath I open my eyes, only to be met with those dangerous vermillion eyes that I have come to know over the last few weeks.

Astarion looks at me annoyingly, clearly not impressed by my suicide attempt. I glare at him while my breathing calms. I slam my fists into his chest as my anger resurfaces.

“Why?! Why did you save me,” my voice breaks, betraying my hopelessness, “I-I wanted to die you prick.” A tear falls from my eye and my body shakes with unfiltered rage and torment as I continue to scream obscenities in his direction and beat my fists on his bare chest.

Astarion does not let go of his grip around my waist, his arms snake around my waist and interlock into an inescapable prison. His face is set in stone and none of the hurtful things I hurl in his direction seem to phase him. Instead he sits there quietly until I grow tired of badgering him.

My exhausted body cannot take anymore and I burst into tears, the repressed emotions spilling out of me like a dam breaking. I cry, my screams of agony and sorrow flow unfiltered.

Astarions arms tighten around me, “Just let it out,” he whispers gently. His firm grip on me refuses to allow me to fall below the water’s surface once again, so I do as he says. I let my sorrow unfold in the ugliest of ways, letting it crash down in devastating pain.

I nuzzle my head into his chest and unleash all of my sorrow. I cry for the love I will never feel. I cry for the pain I have inflicted on countless people. I cry for the loneliness that has plagued my blackened heart for so long–the feeling of isolation and duty weigh so heavily on my soul that I can feel its crushing burden. I allow myself to unburden my sorrows, not even caring how utterly foolish I must look to the vampire.

Astrion slips an arm under my legs and starts towards the shore. I wrap my arms around his neck, accepting that he will not allow me to drown tonight. We emerge from the water and he sets me on a log and quietly walks to his tent to retrieve a blanket to cover my naked body.

Once his blanket is draped over my shoulder he begins building a fire on the shore and allowing me time to collect myself. His scent completely engulfs me, his embroidered blanket smells strong of his scent–bergamot, brandy, and a hint of musk. I drink it in, letting it soothe the heaviness of my emotions. I watch as Astarion breathes life into the fire–the flames licking up the sides of the logs and illuminating his ruby-red eyes.

His gaze meets mine before he moves to sit next to me on the log. I look at him, half-expecting him to lecture me on my stupidity. Instead, the look he gives me is one of understanding.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks after a moment. His eyes search mine. I break our gaze and turn to the fire, contemplating on how much I should tell him. If I tell him about my need for slaughter, my uncontrollable state of bloodlust, will he still understand? Or will he wish that he had never pulled me from the water?

“I… There’s something wrong with me,” I stammer, unable to meet his gaze out of shame. I can barely bring the words to my lips, “I think it would be easier to show you,” I mumble. I turn to look at him. His eyes search mine once again, a look of worry paints his face. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to intrude on my privacy.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, wrapping the blanket tighter around my shoulders, “I want you to see,” I make up my mind. I open my mind up, allowing the tadpole to reach out to him, waiting for him to latch on to my memories… to my past and my fears.

He nods his head and pushes his mind into my thoughts. I allow him to peer into my past, the thousands of ritual slaughters I have committed in my father’s name. I show him my childhood–bloodspawn teaching me the location of the main arteries, the most precise cuts to inflict, and the reverent slaughter I was to commit in Bhaal’s name. I show him the countless faces of my victims after death, their lifeless gaze, their blood draining into pools in Bhaal’s temple below the city. I show him the aching loneliness I feel, the isolation I subject myself to. The emotional ties I have cut with others, to save myself the sorrow for when I inevitably end their lives. I allow him to feel what I feel, the hate, the sorrow, the anger, the aching loneliness and the hopelessness of my future. I show him that I am a slave to murder, that I am not worthy of his or the other’s recognition. I wish only for death, because it is far better than the alternative.

Astarion unlatches from my memories and I inevitably wait for the verbal lashing. I wait for his rejection. I wait for his blade to kiss my throat once again, all his restraint gone as it slices through my neck as he leaves me to die. I can barely look at him, I feel so ashamed. I am a false hero. Nothing I have tried to correct will ever make up for the lives I have ended.

While I continue to wallow in my self-loathing, Astarion places a gentle hand on my shoulder and forces me to turn towards him. My vision is blurry as tears threaten to spill from my eyes once again. I am not sure I am ready for this.

“You could have told me, you know,” he whispers gently. I look into his eyes and see none of the hatred or anger I expected, “We….We have walked very similar paths, you and I.” He searches for his words carefully, “I do not judge you, if that is what you are fearful of. Actually, I am somewhat relieved to know the truth, especially after coming upon you in the woods earlier,” he confesses, a small nervous laugh escapes his lips. “Regardless, if you are unhappy with your situation… I am sure we can rectify that once we enter the city. Gods know we all have our demons to overcome.” He looks off into the distance, clearly reminiscing over his own troubled past.

I look at him, taken aback by his kindness and understanding. "W-wait. Y-you aren't going to kill me?" His profile is sharp, but his features soften as a smile plays on his lips.

He throws his head back and laughs loudly, "Ha! Kill you? Why ever would you think that, my dear?"

I blush at his little nickname. We have certainly spoken to one another, flirted even. But that was the extent of our interactions. Friendly, if not a little stand-offish, and full of playful banter. Of course, I could never get too close to him, otherwise images danced in my mind of his pretty corpse. I shake the silly thoughts from my mind. I'm sure it was harmless.

"W-well… I'm a monster," I croak.

Astarion chuckles darkly, "A monster? Far from it. Dangerous? Potentially. Scandalous? Absolutely. But a monster?" He strokes his chin in thought, "We are similar, you and I. Never hoping to have full control over our bodies. Committing unspeakable acts of violence in someone else's name. It does not mean we are past the point of redemption."

I watch him contemplate silently, tracing the sharp features of his profile with my eyes. Taking in his beauty and the unguarded expression gracing his face. I’ve never fully had the opportunity to admire him in this way. Furthermore, his usual hardened facade has slipped from his demeanor and I feel like I am seeing his true self. I get the feeling most people do not see this side of him.

He blinks away whatever thoughts were swimming around in his mind and he turns to me, the glow from the fire outlining his face in a beautiful aura–he looks diabolically angelic in this moment.

I blush at my own thoughts. He has no idea how beautiful he is, but his perfection catches in my throat, rendering me speechless. I turn away, unsure of what to say.

“Thank you,” I finally breathe, “Most people look at me with disdain in their eyes. I think… I think I’ve come to expect it.”

He laughs breathily and scoots closer to me–his body mere inches from mine and making me flustered. He throws an arm around my shoulder and pulls me the rest of the way in. He leans in and whispers in my ear, “When I look at you… I do see the bloodlust,” I stiffen, dread filling my body once again–worried that I was doomed to be seen as a monster first and foremost by the ones I care about, “But,” he continues, “more than anything, I see someone who wants to do good… someone who wants to be redeemed. I see your heart, and it is a beautiful thing. I see the true you.” He grabs my chin lightly and forces me to look into his eyes. My breath hitches in my throat. “I see someone who wants–no, needs–to be known. He leans in and places a gentle kiss on the corner of my mouth before pulling away. “You deserve to feel loved. You deserve to be seen for who you truly are. I want to give you that. If… you’ll allow me.”

I look up at him with rounded eyes, completely taken off guard, “I-I didn’t think you liked me… like that.” I fidget with my fingers, suddenly feeling vulnerable and slightly embarrassed. I always had a crush on Astarion, but I pushed those feelings aside to protect him. He couldn’t be on the receiving end of my ritual dagger. I wouldn’t allow it.

“Y-you saw my memories. I’m destined to kill anyone I get close to. How… how could you be okay with that?” I shake my head and bury my face in my hands. “I’m cursed to be alone forever.”

He chuckles softly and his eyes soften, “I have the utmost confidence that it will never get to that point,” He cocks an eyebrow at me playfully, “But if it were to come to that, I’m sure some restraints could go a long way.”

The way he is looking at me now, his vermillion eyes bore into me reflecting a hint of danger–a hint of unrestrained lust. How could I say no to this beautiful man? “I crave more than anything to be touched…” I admit, finding it difficult to meet his gaze.

“Mmm,” his voice is gravelly and heavy with ecstasy, “Where, my love?”

I exhale in amazement, I clearly did not expect my night to end in such a manner. I blush uncontrollably, “Everywhere.”

A devilish grin forms across his face flashing his fangs, sharp as a knife, “Your wish is my command,” he whispers before pulling me on top of him. The blanket slips from my shoulders, and falls unused to the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist and snake my arms around his neck, playfully running my fingers through his perfect ivory curls.

He looks at me adoringly before leaning in and pressing his perfect lips to mine. I haven’t been kissed in what feels like years and I hungrily kiss back pressing my entire body into him. He greedily accepts my desperate tongue, and we explore each other’s mouth with all the passion that can be mustered. His fangs rake against my bottom lip and I moan into his mouth. I press my lips to him harder before he is pulling away and flashing me his gorgeous fangs. Astarion drags a thumb lightly across my bottom lip, eliciting a feral moan to escape my mouth.

His other hand traces down my spine, sending heat directly to my core. His tender traces along my body brings my senses to life–no, he sets them on fire–for I have never felt this good from just a few sensual touches. His hand comes to rest on my ass which he squeezes playfully. I yelp in response which only motivates him to continue.

Astarion begins to guide my hips, rocking them back and forth against his lap. I can feel his growing arousal beneath his pants which sends me into a lustful frenzy. I begin to rock my hips to the pace he has set for me, and I throw my head back when I feel my core grinding against his still growing arousal.

He leans in close and drags his nose up my throat, drinking in the scent of my blood, “That’s it, darling,” he whispers gruffly. I suddenly crave for him to bite me, to drink from me. I want to feel the pain, my essence slipping away as I continue to stimulate myself.

I can barely speak from the pleasure I am feeling, but I manage to whimper, “Take from me, Astarion.” I lean my head back further, offering him my throat for his pleasure. He chuckles darkly, his hot breath pounding against my skin, further lighting my senses on fire. I rock my hips harder, “Please.”

He doesn’t hesitate a moment longer. He sinks his fangs into my soft flesh, the pain like ice in my veins before my warm blood falls from the newly made twin puncture wounds. He sucks greedily, savoring the taste of my blood. I moan against him, taking pleasure in the way my body reacts against him. His hand slides from my throat down my sternum and comes to rest just above my throbbing sex.

I whimper uncontrollably, craving for him to go lower, “P-please,” I beg.

Astarion smiles against my throat and pulls away temporarily, “Your begging sounds so sweet,” he coos. He only makes me want to beg harder.

“I need you,” I cry.

A growl escapes his throat and he latches himself back to my throat and pulls more blood into his mouth, coating his tongue and throat. He has gone completely feral. He drags his fingers to my cunt and begins slowly circling my swollen clit.

I gasp loudly, unconcerned with waking up the others in camp. I haven’t been truly touched in so long that I forgot just how wonderful it feels. His fingers expertly circle my clit, igniting something deep in my core. Pleasure begins to build and I can feel myself ready to fall over the edge. I grind against his fingers, feeling needy begging to be filled.

He laughs against my neck and slides his fingers into my aching cunt. I cry out in pleasure, coming completely undone by his long slender fingers. I can barely handle how much he is already stretching me out and I buzz with excitement and anticipation when I think about what else he has in store for me.

His fingers penetrate me deeply, and his lips on my neck have me spiraling. He slides his fingers in and out of me quickly, using his thumb to stimulate my clit. He pulls away from my throat and looks at up at me through his pale lashes, “Does that feel good, darling?”

I nod my head rapidly, unable to form words as his fingers work their magic. My vision begins to blur and I pant uncontrollably. I can feel myself nearing the edge of no return and it is a delicious feeling.

Astarion smiles dangerously, licking the blood from his fangs, “Come for me, pet,” he pleads darkly.

His voice sends me over the edge, I come undone around him, my cunt tightening around his fingers and my hips bucking of their own volition. My orgasm rocks through me, my body spasms with pleasure and my toes curl to an ungodly degree. I let his name slip from my lips as I cry out in pleasure.

“There you go, darling,” he coos, talking me through my orgasm, “Just. Like. That.”

His thumb doesn’t let up from his ministrations until my orgasm has slowly faded and I come back down from my high. Not wasting any time I press my lips back to his, kissing him deeply and hungrily. I need to feel him inside me and I cannot wait much longer. I move to untie the laces of his pants and he stands, hoisting me into the air as I continue to straddle his waist.

Once I’ve successfully unlaced his pants, his throbbing member springs free. I grab the base of his shaft and begin pumping his large cock. He throws his head back and moans loudly. He places me on the soft sand and hovers over me as I continue to service him.

“I need to be inside you,” he breathes raggedly.

He lines himself at my entrance and rubs his throbbing head against my clit. I’m dripping with anticipation. He enters me slowly at first, and he grunts loudly.

“Fuck,” he whispers in my ear. He pushes himself all the way in, fighting against my tight dripping cunt.

He spreads me out wider than I have ever been before and I cry out with pleasure.

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he growls. He pushes further in until there is nothing left and I wrap my legs around him, not wanting him to pull back out.

He begins slowly pumping in and out of my aching pussy, and my arousal rings out like a symphony.

“Oh god, Astarion,” I whine. The way he fills me so completely as if my pussy was molded perfectly around his cock sends me into a feral frenzy.

“That’s right, darling,” he hisses, “Say my name like a fucking prayer.” He picks up the pace, punishing my pussy with his forceful thrusts.

“Astarion,” I cry again, letting his name fall from my lips in absolute reverence.

He snakes an arm around my back and lifts my hips up slightly which only serves to penetrate me deeper than I ever thought possible. He picks up his pace further, letting his cock slip in and out of me with ease.

I can feel myself on the verge of toppling over the edge once again, “I-I’m gonna… Oh Astarion,” I whimper, unable to fully form a sentence.

“Come for me, love,” he growls in my ear, “I want to feel you come for me.”

His words send me over the edge and I’m falling into another orgasm. I cry out loud, a mix of screams and moans fall from my lips as my orgasm rips through my body. My walls tighten around him and he hisses in response. I keep falling, holding on to my orgasm for as long as I can. My toes curl and I pull back on his ivory curls, eliciting a growl from the depths of his core.

“Gods below,” he growls as I tighten around his thick cock. His thrusts slow as my orgasm subsides. Before I can catch my breath he flips me over onto my hands and knees

I breathe heavily, panting uncontrollably, my body spasming in the aftermath of my release. Before I have time to think, he enters me once again, the new position filling me with unadulterated pleasure.

Astarion grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me to his chest, arching my back to an ungodly degree. He clasps to my neck and pierces my throat once again with his sharp fangs. The pain lances through me and the pleasure I receive from the pain is worth it. He starts to drink my sweet blood once again while thrusting in and out of my pussy. I meet his thrusts with my hips, and the force ripples through my body–my ass bouncing gracefully against his hips.

I ride his cock until I can no longer see. My life’s essence slips from my body and the accompanying delirium empties my mind from all the worries from earlier. I cry against his punishing pace. He pulls away from my throat once again and growls in my ear, “You are invigorating, you know that?”

I nod helplessly, unable to focus on anything but the way he stretches me out and hits my sweet spot. I cry out, his sweet words egging me on.

“I think you deserve to come one more time,” he snarls in my ear, pulling on my hair just a bit harder until my back can arch no further. He continues to fuck up and into me, his thrusts becoming faster than anything I’ve ever experienced. I nod my head pathetically.

“Please,” I beg.

His powerful hips rail into me over and over again and I fall deeper and deeper into his rough embrace. His tongue drags up the back of my neck sending shivers down my spine. He sucks and kisses the back of my neck adding another layer of pleausre.

“Fall apart,” he growls deeply in my ear. It is the only thing I care to hear. I come undone around him all over again. His thrusts become sloppier, and he pounds into me quicker and quicker until he is falling with me.

“Yes,” I cry, “Come for me Astarion,” I whimper. He unloads himself inside me, his panting is the only thing I hear as I fall apart with him. Pleasure ripples through our bodies–our collective ecstasy is the only thing that matters at this moment.

He continues to pump into me until he has spilled all of his spent. My orgasm subsides and he falls on top of me, pinning me to the ground.

We breathe harder, waiting to come back down to Faerun. His body moves in time with mine and I savor the aftermath of my orgasm. I shall never come down from the heavens after that.

Once we have collected our strength, he pulls himself out of me and rolls over onto his back near the fire. I roll over onto my side and memorize his features as he looks up at the sky, a look of satisfaction paints his features.

He turns to me and smiles, his guard completely down and I have never seen anything quite so beautiful, “That was… amazing,” he breathes, licking some of the blood from the corner of his mouth with his tongue.

“I–” I can’t seem to gather the words I want to say, “Thank you,” I finally amend.

He rolls to his side and faces me, tracing small circles into my skin with his cool fingertips, “Thank you,” he whispers. And for a fleeting moment, I wonder what he is thanking me for. I smile in response, not wanting to ruin the moment with my questions.

He reaches forward and tucks some hair behind my ear, his knuckles grazing my cheekbone in the process.

“I–I want you to know,” he says softly, his hand never leaving the side of my face, “I’m glad you’re here. With me. I don’t think I want to be in a world without you,” he smiles softly, “Whatever that may look like.”

I smile shyly, “I’m glad I’m here too. Thank you… for everything.”

He wraps an arm around my midsection and pulls me to him until both his arms are wrapped around me securely. He places a gentle kiss on my temple. I turn my head and plant a soft kiss on his lips.

“Don’t let go until the morning,” I whisper. My smile is gone, but admiration still takes over my features. My savior. My hero. He saved my life in more ways than one. I’m excited to see where things take us. While the future is not set in stone, I have a feeling I’ll be able to get through anything with him by my side.

“I won’t,” he whispers before kissing me softly. “Promise me,” he begins, “Promise me that you will find me the next time you feel like death is your only option.”

“I swear,” I whisper. “Promise me you will open up to me as well… Whenever you’re ready.” I can tell that something weighs heavy on his soul, and I never want him to feel the depth of loneliness I felt.

He chuckles, “I save you…and you save me.” The statement is a promise. I smile knowing that this is the start of a beautiful relationship. I let him squeeze me in his strong embrace until we both drift off to sleep, relieved to have distracted ourselves from the painful reality that awaits us on the morrow.

[sporadicthingcollection]

Last Thoughts (Tech x F!Reader)

Summary: A man's last thoughts are of love.

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader

Rating: None.

Word Count: 739.

Warnings: Spoilers for TBB s2 finale. Character death, description of injuries.

Notes: Thought I'd break your hearts a little. Recommended listening is "Maggot Brain" by Funkadelic.

---

He was hoping the fall would kill him -- a quick, painless splat, to put it crudely. Or, if that didn’t work, the several tons of durasteel would crush his skull and it would be over just as fast.

But sheer dumb luck kicked in just a moment too late to actually save his life. The fall did not kill him. The tram did not crush him. So here he lies at the bottom of a gorge, waiting for death.

He can’t move his legs -- based on the angles, they’re shattered irreparably -- but he feels no pain, meaning his spinal column is partly severed.

He’ll either bleed out internally or his lungs will stop working. Or he’ll succumb to the elements. He’s heard hypothermia isn’t a terrible way to go, all things considered. Hallucinations and paradoxical undressing.

It’s only a matter of waiting.

Hunter and Echo will be fine. They’re well-adjusted soldiers, conditioned from birth to accept death whenever it may come. They will mourn, but it will pass.

It’s Wrecker he’s worried about. Soft-hearted Wrecker. This certainly won’t help his fear of heights.

And Omega. She’s a child. Children shouldn’t have to watch their loved ones die. He doesn’t regret his decision, but he wishes she hadn’t had to watch. You’ve said as much in the past--

His blood chills and his heart jumps into his throat.

You.

Ah, you.

How could he forget about you?

Intelligent, persistent, prescient, patient you?

First love. First kiss. First time.

Never again will he see the sparkle in your eyes as he explains something to you. Never again will he hear your laugh as he says something he didn’t realize would be amusing. Never again will he feel your soft lips against his own as you, in your words, “shut him up.”

He wants to slap himself. This was supposed to be quick, so he didn’t bother with a proper farewell. A brief message while you were asleep, telling you he’d see you in later.

It is now later, and he lies at the bottom of a gorge, waiting for death.

Idiot.

His arm is leaden, but he manages to lay it atop his wristcom. Moving his fingers stings, but he’s able to access his files with little trouble. Recordings, visual, cultural... there it is.

Peninsular Pantoran Wedding Song, dated two months ago.

He opens it. You appear, your hair up in a bonnet and clad in your lounging clothes. You look stunning.

"--you sure it's recording?" you're asking. "The light's not on."

"I am certain." He doesn't mind the sound of his own voice. He's heard it enough over the years.

You inhale, then pause. "Tech, I feel silly."

"Why? This is a document of your culture's traditional choral practices. It is an underrepresented--"

You frown. "My mom is the chantress. Why don't you get her to sing it?"

Here’s his favorite part. He still pats himself on the back for this response. “In addition to her not being here right now, I do not find your mother half as attractive as you.”

And the reason it’s his favorite part? Because your cheeks darken as your gaze turns upwards, and your lips curl into a bashful smile. Little dimples appear -- probably his favorite feature of yours.

And, with a deep breath, you begin to sing in your native tongue. Melodic and rhythmic, punctuated by pops and clicks you make with your tongue.

He doesn’t know the words. And, for the first and only time in his life, he is content to not know. He doesn’t need to know what it means. He just needs to see your beautiful lips move, your lovely eyes sparkle, your weight shifting from foot to foot as you suppress the urge to dance.

He plays the recording again. His fingers hurt.

Void nips at the edges of his mind. His thoughts loosen and crumble to pieces. His vision swirls, twisting and turning like Omega’s Serennan kaleidoscope.

He plays the recording again. Breathing is hard.

He sees you in wedding attire, veiled in a rainbow of beads, your face painted to highlight your eyes, your hair woven with gold threads. 

He plays the recording again. He can’t focus his eyes.

Tears appear. Rips in his vision and in time. Visions of what was and what will never be. Peace. War. Strife. Satisfaction. Love. Hate. Rage. Redemption.

He plays the recording again.

He slips slowly into a long, dreamless sleep.

---

⬅⬅⬅ | "Filled With Things to Say" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

[the-ellia-west]

Help Pls?

I think My action sequences are too long and detailed... Maybe I should try and rework my style? What do y'all think?

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

(Half-edited Chapter 6 Beginning)

Minor Spoilers!

---

However, before she got any closer to deciphering the warning, branches to her right rustled. Kasi whirled to face the sound and had just enough time to prepare herself before a man leaped out of the trees, tackling her. Kasi hit the ground hard, her vision going blurry as the darkness of the night swirled into her lungs. She kicked and scratched at the strange man to get her freedom as adrenaline shot through her veins. Sharp claws dug into the Outlander’s skin but didn’t cut through as she landed a good hit. The man grunted in pain and slammed her head into the ground again. Kasi struggled as hard as she could, just managing to see sharp, gritted teeth through the fingers covering her eyes.

She screamed, “Get off!” 

Kasi kicked at him again and just managed to squirm away. The outlander scrambled out of range of her attacker, panting. She drew her knife from its sheath in her boot. Her opponent narrowed his eyes.

“You’re an interesting one, little outlander.” Kasi flinched away from the unknown figure and his strange gravelly voice as she dropped into a fighting stance. The man extended his huge black wings, one charred and burnt, painting his image against the darkness like a tree in the dead of winter.

“Get away from me!” 

The shade’s wings snapped shut with a whoosh of cold air as he lunged for her. Kasi dodged and stabbed at the shade, who spun out of the way. He swiped at her neck, sending her back a step. The outlander grappled with the shade, trying desperately not to be overpowered.

But in a split second, he grabbed ahold of the seamstress’ leg with his talon and yanked it out from underneath her, throwing her into the dirt. Kasi hit the ground hard but squirmed wildly. If the shade was going to kill her, she at least wouldn’t make it easy for him. The seamstress grabbed the arm that pinned her shoulder and bit down on his wrist as hard as she could manage, hard scales making her teeth ache.

The shade hissed menacingly and Kasi shoved his arm away. She rolled out of his reach and leaped to her feet before he could fully recover. The outlander tucked her hair into her shirt and whirled to face him, breathing hard from her escape. Though bruises and small cuts covered her skin, she still held her knife in a strong defense. The shade growled and hit her arm, knocking her backward. But Kasi caught herself with her hands and propelled her feet upwards. Just as she’d hoped, her boot connected with his jaw in a sickening crack as she tumbled to the ground in a less-than-graceful landing.

Kasi scrambled to get her footing and ran toward him as soon as her feet hit the ground. The Outlander kicked his hand, knocking his claws away from her and brought her leg back for another kick. But he caught the second one and sent her sprawling into the narby bushes.

Kasi pushed back to her feet as he pounced back into the fight and smacked into him, knocking him towards the cliff’s edge. The shade screeched in surprise and gave the outlander a backhand across the face, his scales slicing through Kasi’s cheek. The young seamstress stumbled back and dodged around him as he tried to hit her again. She grunted softly through her teeth as she slammed her fist into the back of his head. The shade stumbled forward with a curse and Kasi wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling him backwards. 

“Let go, you little pest!” He sunk his sharp teeth into her wrist.

The outlander howled in pain just as two very familiar voices called out for her at once, “Kasi!” 

The shade rammed into her, his clawed hand closing around her throat. However, the pressure didn’t last long as Chrin and Xhaazi attacked the shade at once. The pair pulled him away from Kasi, and the shade hissed. The seamstress swiped her knife out of the grass as he yanked his wing out of their grip and flew at the seamstress again, wrapping his wings around her and restraining her arms. Kasi clenched her fist around her knife as the shade grabbed her by the neck, his scales rubbing uncomfortably against her scars as he held her out over the cliff edge. 

Sounding thoroughly annoyed, the shade turned his head back to the two boys, “Neither of you will attack me or I will drop her.”

Chrin and Xhaazi froze. 

He tightened his grip on Kasi’s neck and the tailor’s apprentice froze. She couldn’t stab him or he would drop her. The shade turned to her, his eyes glinting in the faint light of the moons overhead.

“What are you doing? What do you want from us?” Kasi gasped as she glanced down at the wild waves attacking the bottom of the cliff.

@oliolioxenfreewrites @corinneglass @phoenixradiant @sunflowerrosy @kia-is-poisoned @rivenantiqnerd @aesthetic-writer18 @ryahisbored

@nkikio @somethingclevermahogony @mjparkerwriting @agirlandherquill @fantasy-things-and-such

@illarian-rambling @purplehandshumanfeelings @bluberimufim @artsandstoriesandstuff @wyked-ao3

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 22. Lights And Strings [C7]

Pairing: Turpin x Fem!Wife!Reader

POV: Second, Reader

Setting: Turpin’s house

Continuation of: Prompt 4. Sharing, 6. Out Of Care, 13. Shimmering Icicles, 15. Cards And Coals, 17. Bells Of Christmas & 18. Blankets And Snuggles

A/N: It’s the last part of the Turpin serial for this Rickmas, darlings! 🥰👏 It’s currently 07:58 over here when I finish writing this and I’m going to be publishing it right away - it does take some time getting it up on AO3 and Tumblr but I have a packed day so figured I’d kick it off on the right foot while my husband drops off our daughter for her last day at preschool for the year 🥰

This is shorter, like I said yesterday I won’t have the time to write long fics for the last three prompts unless I turn manic and stay up until like 2 am 😂 I hope you’ll like this sweet ending though. After all, HEA was promised and now we are also at the end of Rickmas so these last three need to represent having reached our destination and survived another year I guess 😅👍

Tags/TW’s: Kissing, Embracing, Love, Care, Adoration, Possessive Feelings, Honesty, Changing for SO, Mentions Rough Smut And Proper Aftercare, All The Giddy Feels, Being Self-aware

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 1.2k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

It had been four days since that faithful day of cataclysmic change between you and your husband — your caring, sweet, depraved man of a husband. Waking up alone felt strange, he usually woke you up for a kiss before work nowadays but today you woke up alone.

Stretching in bed, you yawned and felt some kinks straighten out in your back from last night’s odd position. He’d had you bent backwards over the edge of the bed while he delighted in eating you out for several long moments before he decided to claim you while groaning depravities for all in the house to hear. I cannot believe I enjoy such things being said to me— No, no it’s only when he says such things. All other men can go to hell for saying such things to women. Double standard or not, I won’t stand for men treating women like that without their consent.

You giggled at yourself, and your strange thoughts, and kicked your legs under the cover while thinking of all the sweetness he poured over you after everything was said and done. Each time, and he never left you alone in bed afterward either. He always cuddled and held you close, you absolutely loved it — the contrast between the rough lovemaking and the soft aftercare he lavished upon you. You¨d picked up his teaching swiftly, after all, it wasn’t a difficult thing to do when he was such a good leader. You didn’t have to think, only feel.

“Where are you now?” You asked aloud while throwing on your robe and slipping your feet into some warm slippers. “Guess I shall go for a little hunt of my own,” you said with a smile and left the bedroom to find your husband. What you found when you reached the stairs was something else entirely though.

The railing was dressed in garlands and red strings of silk, every surface you could see while you walked downstairs was covered in decorations. Everything you had put up and then taken down was back — not where you’d put them of course, but they were back. There was Christmas everywhere you looked, the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air along with sulphur and you couldn’t stop the wide smile spreading your lips.

You rushed the rest of the way down, nearly bolting toward the office while you tried to take in the fact your home was covered in holiday cheer. You threw open the door, “Richard—” But he wasn’t there. “Where are you?” you asked yourself before turning back, heading toward the parlour. Perhaps you’d find him lounging with a book there.

You found him standing before the roaring fire, a cup of coffee in his large hand and his body dressed in all red. Wine red to be precise, with black detailing and silken details — like his ascot pinned with a gleaming jade pin. He was an absolute vision, yet his eyes were fixed firmly on you while they came to live as swirling grey storms.

“Love,” he said darkly, his eyes travelling along your entire form before reaching your eyes once more. You felt incredibly underdressed compared to him. “Richard,” you replied and walked toward him with fluttering butterflies in your stomach. “What is all this?” you asked while he sat his cup down and reached out to embrace you. “Merry Christmas, love,” he said and kissed the top of your head before tugging you even closer and kissing you deeply for a few seconds before he straightened. “M-Merry Christmas,” you replied and felt no shame about inhaling his scent as if you were dependent on it. His deep chuckle warmed your very bones while he gave you a squeeze before letting you go — only holding your hands.

“You hate Christmas,” you whispered while your eyes travelled all around. The many candles lit, the garlands and silken strings, and the holly and little porcelain decorations all craved your attention. “But I love you,” he replied while grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him. “So I shall endure and make sure that smile of yours keeps shining, love.” “Oh, Richard, sweet husband of mine,” you said gently, appreciation evident in your voice. He chuckled. “Sweet, hm? For you, only.” “Just how I want it,” you confessed. You were too possessive of the man not to feel giddy about being his one and only, his exception, his little wife whom he called all things between a filthy whore and his sweet wife.

Richard led you through the house, showing all the decorations and little details, he appeared nearly proud of his work but if you were correct he was really proud about satisfying you. It was a strange sensation, that lights and strings could make a man such as he puff out his chest with pride while intensely gauging your reactions. You, who were nothing as extraordinary as he, were the most important person to him and only your opinion and feelings mattered to the great judge of London whom all feared.

You were not nothing, of course. You were a Lady, born and raised in a grand family with teachers and instructors, you were a capable woman within the field of being a Lady but that was nothing compared to being a judge by societal standards. So, for all intents and purposes, you were nothing in comparison. To know that little you were of such great importance to a man like your husband had your stomach turning with glee and joy. It wasn’t a feeling you had liked at first, it was selfish, or perhaps self-righteous, but now you adored it. With Richard you were safe to feel however you felt, there was no shaming between the two of you and you absolutely loved that.

Richard led you into the dining room where a grand breakfast was laid out on the table, no servant in sight. “My sweet wife,” Richard said and pulled out your chair before scooting you in. “Thank you.” He sat down beside you, which was odd as he always sat opposite you. But, as soon as he had poured himself a fresh cup of coffee it became apparent why. His hand landed atop your thigh, only separated from your skin by your night dress and robe. You loved having him so close, loved having him touch you, loved feeling his warmth and strength so you only looked up at him with warm eyes while he gave you a half smile before sipping his coffee.

You ate breakfast in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. It wasn’t until you had both finished that he leaned closer, whispering in your ear about how he wanted to take you to his office and use the silky red strings from the decorations to tie you over his desk. You had shot up from the chair so fast it would have toppled if Richard hadn’t caught it when it tipped backward. The smirk he wore told you all you needed to know, he’d make good on the promise and you had never imagined Christmas decorations would ever be part of lovemaking — you would soon find out just how wonderful silken strings could feel around one’s wrists. Perhaps you and your husband would create new Christmas traditions, ones he could love and enjoy too…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Oh how I hope this little ending warmed you right up darling - it's short but so so so sweet and I really just allowed the words to flow this morning. I do love how this shows the HEA they will forever have and the freedom they have with each other. Gosh, it's just so sweet 😍👏 AND IT'S ALMSOT CHRISTMAS DARLINGS!!!!

Q: Have you ever gone skiing? Can you ski? A: I have gone skiing, both distance and downhill (no idea what it's called) but I'm afraid of heights so I stick to distance if I gotta go 😂😂😂

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @elizabeth-baelish @all-art-is-quite-useless @severuslovebot @yellowbadgermole @impulse-anchor @writewithmarites @yan-senna @writewithmarites @lokisbjchnl @ladykardasi @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @a-queen-and-her-throne @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @daddythanatos

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

[the-masked-astro]

Astro-vision short stories

"You are a guardian"

So before we start this short story, I should explain that Astro vision short stories are cannon events that happen within the story. Often I tend to think about random moments in stories, so this is basically me fixiating on one event. These will no be in order, but I will explain at the beginning roughly when they happen in the sorty. These are a way of me practicing my writing skills, as i haven't really done writing like this since highschool, so feel free to give the story constructive criticism, or just regular criticism lol. With that being said let's get into this!

"You are a guardian" takes place at the very start of pt 3, about 1-2 weeks after the end of pt 2.

Warning ⚠️ This story contains mentions of: Alcohol, swearing, existential crisis, unaliving ones self, smg3 being an asshole

Smg3 kicked a rock as they walked along through the dense foliage of the forest. It wasn't all that long ago he along with Smg4 and Mask, had been running through these parts of the woods, ready for the epic battle that lay ahead. However, this was different. Their purpose this time had changed from what it once was. Along with Smg4, it was him, Smg1 and 2, as well as Tari and Meggy, who both seemed to be on edge.

"I get why we're going, but what about them? Didn't you say this was "guardian business?"" Smg3 said with his typical sarcastic tone, as he gestured to Tari and Meggy while air quotes with his hands, also rolling his eyes. Smg1 could only sigh.

"This is guardian business, however I thought it would be beneficial to bring these two along, they're more... suited to this type of situation I feel." Smg1 said as he glanced back, not stopping as he continued to walk onward.

"Yeah, and no offense three but you-" "you really suck at talking to people in a calm manner" smg2 started before smg1 cut him off. Smg3 stopped as he stomped his foot on the ground.

"Hey! I can be nice! Baka!" He said as the threw his hands up in the air in defense. Smg4 could only sigh.

"Come on dude, we need to get moving. We're almost there, no time for a hissy fit." Smg4 said as he walked past. Smg3 could only mumbled under his breath before he continued to follow the group. All of them walked in silence as they made their way through through the forest, the only sound being the crunching of plants underneath their feet.

The stopped at a cliffside, edged into the walls of rock was an out of place door of sorts, made of metal and bolts. Smg3 was the first to step up as he slammed his fists on the door, which made a loud clanging echo that reverberated through the surrounding forest.

"Hey! Astro! Come out, and we maybe won't beat you up to bad!" Smg3 said, before Smg4 huffed and pushed him out of the way.

"Don't listen to him, we just want to talk Astro... please let us in." Smg4 said as they all stood staring at the door. There was a pause before Smg3 let out a huff as he banged on the doors once more.

"Come on, I closed down my shop for this! You better open up, I didn't get dragged out here for nothing!" Smg4 yelled. As Smg4 was about to stop him, the large metal door opened slightly. A loud groan coming from the metal hinges.

"It's... open..?" Tari mutter softly. Her hands clasped together as they fidget nervously. The group looked at each other nervously. Even Smg3 looked nervous for a brief moment before he shook his head.

"Well, good! I don't have all day... Smg4 you go in first!" Smg3 said as he pushed Smg4 forward, to which he let out a gasp before turning to glare at Smg3. Smg4 sighed before looking up. He took a moment before he started walking forward, into the dark maw of the entrance before them. The rest of the group followed, all be it with hesitation.

The room had little light, the only source being from the chamber up ahead. At the end of the room, there were at least a good fifty televisions mounted to the wall, and all of them aside from one were broken, smashed in with a blunt object. Only one was still left untouched. Its screen flickered white with nothing but a snowy static that danced on the screen. In front of the display was a couch that seem to have seen better days, as it was facing the display of broken televisions.

The light from the single television casted down on the couch, illumating the space around it. Littered on the floor were empty bottles of liquor of various kinds. The group made their way slowly to the couch as the sound of the television static grew louder with each step. They were only a few feet away from the couch when they herd a voice spoke, that made them all stand still.

"Why are you here?" It said in a meek and pathetic voice. Its speech slured slightly. Clearly, the owner was beyond intoxicated.

"Astro-" Smg1 started before he was cut off.

"I'm not... Astro" they said with a hint of malice in their voice. A slight shuffling could be heard from the couch. "You saw... you saw the real Astro... I'm just... I'm just..." the figure sat up, looking behind the couch at the group before them. "I'm just... some shitty copy..." they mumbled.

Their eyes were glazed over, their orange hair messy, their Icon mask nowhere in sight, causing white liquid to slowly ooze from their mouth, more so than normal.

"Ast-" Meggy cut herself off. "Look... we need to talk." She said softly but firmly. The figures eyes only narrowed.

"What? You wanna rub my defeat in my face? Re... remind me of how shitty I was. How I... I fucked everything up?" They spat with venom in their voice. "Just leave me alone" they mumbled as they sunk down back into the couch.

The group only stood in silence, looking at one another, trying to figure out what to do. It was Smg1 that gave an annoyed hum before he walked forward, smg2 reached out to stop him, but stopped halfway and put his hand back at his side.

"Listen" Smg1 said as they walked in front of the figure, who was slumped over on the couch, looking down at the ground with their lifeless eyes. "I know you've been through a lot, and we know you've done wrong, but we're here to change that." Smg1 said as they stepped forward. "Good or evil, like it or not you're a guardian. And you need to start acting like one."

Smg2 finally made his way around to stand next to smg1. "Y-yeah! Even if you don't like us, it's your duty as Guardian to protect your avatar! As well as the rest of the islands inhabitants!" Smg1 said, his voice made it clear he was still on edge.

The figure didn't move. They continued to sit there, not responding to anything around them. Smg1 sighed, he looked over at Meggy, his gaze asking her for her help. Meggy hesitated but made her way over to smg1 and 2, Tari, Smg3, and 4 following soon after.

"Look... I know we didn't get off to a good start, and you've been through a lot... I might not know exactly what you're going through, but I know what it's like to... lose a lot..." Meggy said softly, not noticing the figures eyes had narrowed slightly.

"I know what it's like, being in a... new body... not being able to go back home... to lose someone-" Before Meggy could finish, the figure stood up quickly, stumbling a bit as they did so.

"You... you don't know what it's like, you know nothing about me!" They yelled in a drunken rage. "I lost EVERYTHING! I lost my life, my friends, my family, my home, everything! I can't go back, ever! And the only person I cared about... that I... I..." before they could finish, they fell to their knees as they started to sob. "I did EVERYTHING for him, it was all for him! And he abandoned me, he left me to rot in this miserable fucking world!" Their head shot up, as they looked at the group in front of them. Goopy white liquid flowed from their eyes and mouth as they sobbed. "What's the point of living when I've lost everything?" They said, their harsh tone turn to a bubbling mess as they looked up pitifully.

Here they were, the adversary the crew had face not long ago. The one who had gone around, controlling and manipulating the innocent people around them, the one they had stopped, had defeated. An evil so grand, now reduced to a drunken, sobbing pathetic mess on their knees before them.

"Don't talk like that!" Smg3 was the first to speak. "3, please," Smg4 started before they were cut off. "Shut up! Look, so what if you screwed up and trusted that asshole of a tv, who cares? You're better off without him! You shouldn't just end it all because someone screwed you over. What does that say about you? Are you just gonna roll over and give up? And let him have the win? Is that what you want?" Smg3 yelled as he took a step closer. Tari was the one to step in front of him.

"Smg3 that's enough! Can't you see they've been through enough?!" Tari said, raising their once soft voice. Smg3 was silent before he huffed. He didn't say a world before he walked past Tari.

"Whatever, I'm gonna wait outside." He said as he walked past without another word. The rest of the group watched him leave before turning their attention back to the figure before them. Their sobs had grown softer but hadn't stopped. Smg1 walked up to them.

"Look... we don't understand what you're going through, but that doesn't mean we can help." He said softly as he placed a hand on their shoulder. "It's a lot to take in, a lot to deal with, but whats done is done, and the only way to move is forward. Your situation is nothing like ours, but at the end of the day you are still a guardian, you are one of us... 5." Smg1 said softly with a slight smile as he looked into the figures eyes.

"5..." they said softly. "Yes... you are the fifth guardian... I can't say we can call you Smg5... since you're not a super meme guardian, but you're still a guardian like us." Smg1 said as he looked over at smg2 and 4.

"5..." the figure said again. They paused before wiping some of the ooze from their face. They then sat on their knees as they looked down, they seemed to be thinking deeply about something.

"I'm sure we can figure you out something" smg4 chimed in. "Maybe... super... Icon guardian?"

"Oh! Maybe super string guardian?" Smg1 added.

"Why not super orange guardian?" Meggy said with a smile.

"Umm... but aren't they blue and black?" Tari asked, to which Maggy huffed.

"...Astro." the figure said, causing the group to look over at them.

"But... I thought you said-" smg1 one was cut off.

"Astro... isn't just... was my name... it's... the name of the story... the story I started as a kid... this island... all of the characters- people on this island... they are... apart of Astro." The figure paused as they looked at Smg1. "You said... I'm the Guardian... I'm... their guardian?"

Smg1 nodded. "You are the Guardian of your avatar, and by extension, everyone on Astro island."

The figured paused, before getting up to their feet. They stumbled a bit as they walked forward, they walked up to one of the shattered televisions, pulling out their icon mask embedded within. They looked at it before placing it on their face.

"Then call me... Super Astro Guardian five... Sag5"

[fruit-of-infidelity]

💜 Diatober 💚

Day Eleven: Tears

"Insufferable."

Toes dipping into the shallow stream beneath, from the paved edge of the bridge, Kanato did little to acknowledge the voice. He had neatly placed his chestnut loafers beside him, long socks knotted within one another and tucked inside for safe keeping.

Even his garters had been neatly folded inside those same loafers, lest they tumble into the lightly flowing water below to completely ripple and ruin his near crystal-clear reflection.

"If you must ogle yourself like that, I'd appreciate you lending - at least - an ear to me; Mother asked me to collect you."

Only when an unwelcome pair of green eyes peeped over Kanato's shoulder, staring back at him from the stream below, did his toes break the surface of the stream. Destroying the clarity of Ryuuto's reflection alongside his own, he still found himself mesmerised by the surface ripples, and how, even without the stillness from before, he was as much a mirror of Cordelia as ever... Both of them were.

"Before dusk, she said... I'll return to my Mother then."

His stubborn remark served only to frustrate the older boy, who - once hearing his sibling's emphasis as he spoke - interjected with his own carefully phrased reply. Very carefully phrased.

"Fine by me... After all, as her favourite son, I suppose I ought to go and let her know of your objection."

SPLASH! Kanato now kicked the stream with his foot, droplets of water spraying the nearby rocks and his bare calves. His fingers tightened around the wooden edge of the bridges planks, too, knuckles whitening in clear discontent at Ryuuto's chosen words. With deeply knotted brows, Kanato's hardened gaze broke with the stream and snapped in the older boy's direction. Lips pursed, and nose crinkled in fury, he let his words land with great hostility.

"You wish you were."

"I needn't wish for something I already am."

"You don't even look like her!"

"I take after her far more than the three of you combined."

Kanato - barely having lifted himself onto his knees - launched at his eldest brother, fist raised high above his head in hopes of connecting higher than Ryuuto's jaw as he swung.

"Sh-Shut up!"

Unfortunately for Kanato, the opposing party saw such an outburst miles away, dodging his line of attack with ease. Even if it had landed, with thumb caught foolishly in fist, the violet-eyed boy would have done far more harm to himself in his raged frenzy than he had by landing chin-first upon the planks he previously perched upon.

He tasted blood. . .

He was sure he had bitten his tongue upon touchdown.

With faintly dazed vision, and his tears a blink or two away from overspilling, Kanato kept his head down; Ryuuto's shoes were all he glared at now, as they promptly presented their heels to him, and the legs that operated them began to march off.

"I'll spare you anymore tears by keeping your outburst between us. Do hurry up inside, though. Her - and my - patience is wearing thin."

[2dmenenthusiast]

Last Night on Earth Pt. 7

(Ethan Winters x Gn!Reader)

okayyy I wanted this chapter to be longer but I was already taking too long with it so I just wanted to get it out already lmaooo

THIS IS NOT THE END BTW!!! there is more chapters coming after this

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9

“Okay, there’s your tea. Do you need anything else? Another pillow?”

“Momma,” you laughed, shaking your head, “I’m fine. Thank you, really. You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot, ya know,”

She sighed, giving you a tight lipped smile. “When did you get so grown up?”

“Like, five seconds ago, I think?”

She laughed and left the living room, and you grabbed the TV remote to begin mindlessly scrolling through channels. Of course, there was nothing good on. Never was this time of day. Besides reruns of Law & Order: SVU. That was always a good brain killer.

The familiar base and funky guitar riff began to play, but before you could get any further, your brother was jumping over the back of the couch and snatching the remote out of your hand, changing the channel to some raunchy cartoon you had less than zero interest in watching.

“There’s a TV in your room, asswipe.”

“This one’s bigger, shithead.”

“Just because I have a broken leg and a fractured rib, doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass.”

“Hey!”

You turned your head, seeing your father come into the room before taking the remote out of Lucas’s hand and shutting off the TV.

“You two knuckleheads need to cut the shit. Lucas, go do something. Don’t want you sittin’ around all day doing nothin’.”

He cursed and grumbled to himself, storming off like an upset toddler. When he was out of sight, your father took his spot next to you, and turned the TV back on, and switched to American Pickers.

You arched a brow. “Really?”

“Hey, they find some cool stuff on here.”

You shake your head and smile, choosing to watch rather than argue. When Zoe passed by, she grimaced and made a disgusted noise.

“Again?”

“Oh, I’m guessing this one is popular?” you asked.

“He only watched it almost every day you were gone.” Regardless of her opinion, Zoe sat on the couch.

You shrugged. “Well, I wanna see what all the hype is about then.”

You looked up at your father with a small smile, and he just put a hand on your head and mussed with your hair.

“I knew you were my favorite for a reason.”

“Hey!” Zoe cried.

Your father laughed, and you looked down at your cast that was adorned with the signatures of your family. Your mother had written “Mom” in neat cursive with a heart right on the front. A stark contrast to the big, jagged letters of your brother’s name that stretched vertically up the entire side. Zoe’s name was smaller, The Z underlining the rest of her name, and your dad wrote right under your mother’s signature, with a few uplifting words.

“Our strong little soldier.”

  Your fingers gently ran over the rough edge of your cast, and you smiled. Recovery would be rough, sitting around being able to do nothing while your body wanted to stay active. And the promise of sleep without nightmares was almost impossible. But, at least you had your family here to help you get through it. And you couldn’t ask for anything better.

***

The smell of spices and cooking veggies was the first thing to disturb your slumber. Then the muttering of voices slowly trickled in your ears before you lifted your head with a groan.

“Well, look who’s finally awake.”

Your fingers dug into worn leather, one hand reaching up to wipe at your eyes as your vision adjusted to the soft lighting in the room. When you sat up and came face to face with the person that spoke, your breath froze in your lungs.

“You okay, hun? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A gentle hand was placed against your forehead, and your eyes narrowed.

“Momma?”

She smiled, brushing your hair away from your forehead.”Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”

You watched as she walked away before looking down at your hands, and you recognized the living room couch you currently rested on. Everything looked just as it did. Before Eveline came into your lives. The hum of the TV intermingling with the voices of your family in the other room. The smell of delicious food coming from the kitchen.

You pinched yourself.

Nothing. No way this was real.

Standing up, you hesitantly made your way through the dining room and watched your mother as she stood over a big pot of stew, Zoe right beside her pouring glasses of tea.

“Lucas, could you help set the table, please?”

Your brother groaned, shoved his phone in his pocket, and stood from the table.

No. This was all too normal. Too real. But it couldn’t be. You were just running for your life seconds ago with—

Ethan!

Frantically rushing forward, your hand grasped the doorknob of the double doors, but the sound of your mother saying your name had you pausing.

“Oh! Darlin’, could you go fetch your father? He’s down in the garage working on that car again.”

Slowly turning, you gave your mom an uneasy grin and exited the kitchen. Making sure the doors closed behind you, you took a second to take a deep breath, trying to gain some sense of thought. You knew this wasn’t real. You knew it was probably some hyper realistic dream something conjured up in your brain. But, the more you stood there to take it all in, you realized that you didn’t feel uneasy or scared. You felt… calm. Like this was just another normal day in your old life, in your home, where everything was safe and okay.

It felt right.

Taking another breath, you descended the steps to the garage and caught your father bent under the hood of his car, fiddling with something near the engine.

“D… Daddy?”

He lifted his head, giving you a glance. “Hey! Pass me that flathead over there, would you?”

Your head followed his finger to the toolbox resting on the bench, grabbing the screwdriver and placing it in his grease covered hand.

“Momma said dinner’s ready.”

Letting out a grunt, he stood to his full height and faced you, wiping off his hands with a dirty rag. He smiled, and it immediately made your heart ache.

“Best not keep her waiting, then.”

Swallowing thickly, you nodded, casting your eyes to the concrete floor. Your father went to walk past you, but you heard his shoes scrape against the floor as he stopped, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, you okay, kid?”

You tightly pressed your lips together to try and keep them from trembling, but you couldn’t hide your red rimmed eyes from him as you looked up, and his expression dropped.

“Oh, kiddo.”

Choking on a sob, your father wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug whilst you buried your face in his shirt. He smelled like cologne and car oil, a smell you’d never not associate with him. It felt surreal to be in his arms, to feel the warmth of his embrace surrounding you. You almost forgot what it felt like.

“Come on. You gonna tell me what’s troublin’ you?”

You sniffled, shaking your head and gripping the back of his shirt. You couldn’t bear letting him go. Not when you just got him back.

“I’m scared, daddy. I’m so damn scared, and I just— I don’t know—”

“Shhh. We don’t gotta talk about that right now. Whatever it is, you know your momma and I will help you through it.”

Another sob wracked your body, and your father pulled your face out of his chest to brush his thumbs over your cheeks, gently wiping away the fountain of tears pouring down. 

“Hey, don’t you worry about a thing right now. You’re too young to be stressin’ about silly things.”

You willed yourself to laugh, leaning into his hand. His touch was warm, familiar. 

Shit.

You didn’t think this would hurt so much.

You knew none of it was real, but god, if you didn’t want to stay here forever. You’d be blissfully unaware of the outside, living the rest of your life in the warm presence of your loving family. You missed them more than words could ever express, and your heart ached with the thought of what your future with your family could’ve been if that little girl never showed up. 

The reminder hit you like a ton of bricks, and you thought of Ethan. Where was he if you were here? You didn’t even know what here was. Were you dead? Were you dreaming? You wanted it to be real. You never wanted anything more than this. But you couldn’t abandon Ethan. 

You couldn’t say goodbye again, either.

“I… I don’t know what to do, daddy. I feel like I’m just messing everything up, a-and i don’t know how to fucking fix it. I—”

You were cut off with another cry, and your father pulled your head into his chest again.

“Please. Please just tell me what to do, daddy. I don’t know what to do.”

Your voice and sobs were muffled in his shirt, holding onto him tightly as he softly quieted you.

“Well first, you’re gonna straighten that head up.” He made you step back, using his fingers to lift your chin so you held your head high. “You’re gonna wipe away those tears.” You did as he said, swiping your hands over your cheeks. “And you’re gonna be the strong soldier that we know you are.” He grabbed your shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “You are strong. And you will figure out whatever it is because you’re a Baker.”

Sniffling, you nodded and mustered up a small smile for your father. He was right. He always was. But you certainly didn’t feel as strong or courageous as he saw you.

“Now there’s one more thing you need to do, okay?”

You nodded, straightening your shoulders.

“... Wake up.”

***

Ringing.

Ringing

More fucking ringing.

Christ, could someone shut that shit up?!

You startled with a gasp, body shooting up and your hand covering your chest to feel your heart thumping against your ribcage. There were hands on your arms and your name spewed frantically from Ethan. His voice sounded raw and hoarse, and when he gently grabbed your face so he could look at you properly, his eyes were red and his cheeks were stained with tears.

“You’re okay. Shit, you’re okay,” he says, choking on a breath as if he’s about to cry again.

“You’ve been crying.”

It’s all you can say, and he almost looks surprised as he lets out a dry laugh, his hand adjusting its position on your jaw.

“So have you.”

You didn’t realize until he said something that you had fresh tears rolling down your face that he gently swiped away with his thumb. The look in his eyes, it was like he was seeing a ghost. A mix of relief and disbelief swirling around in them.

“You died.”

Your chest seized with a breath, brows furrowing as you shook your head. “How is that possible? I—”

“I don’t know. I-I… I was holding you one minute and then the next you— shit. You just stopped breathing. A-And I couldn’t feel your heart anymore, and you were just—”

“I saw them, Ethan. My momma and pops. And Lucas and Zoe were there. They—”

When you moved your arm, you realized it didn’t hurt as much as it did before. In fact, it didn’t hurt at all. You experimentally flexed your muscles and bent it at the elbow. It felt fine. Normal. Then, you were taking off your bandages, and your eyes widened when you saw that all your cuts and bruises were gone. Faint scars remain where they were.

“Holy shit. Check my back.”

You turned your back to Ethan, and you heard him gasp softly. The tips of his fingers gently brushed against your skin, causing a slight shiver to run through you, and he whispered out a curse.

“They’re healed.”

When you stood on your feet, you felt brand new. Rejuvenated. A wide smile broke out on your face, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was like you could take down a whole army!

“Holy shit,” you laughed, and Ethan stood. “I’m fucking invincible!”

Ethan’s own smile formed at the sight of yours, and before he knew it, you were grabbing his face and planting a hard but quick kiss on his cheek. You pulled away and ran into the next room before you could see the blush take over his face, and he cleared his throat as he followed after you.

“Hey, what are you—”

He cut himself off, and the room felt cold suddenly. It was like your mood did a complete shift, and he carefully watched you as you examined a photo that was resting on a table near an old, shabby couch. He recognised the room from when he first tried to save Mia. That felt so long ago now.

“There’s somethin’ I never told you, Ethan.”

Okay, that didn’t make him worried at all. You sighed, and handed him the photo. He looked at it closely, and saw it was a picture of the old lady in the wheelchair he saw when he first woke up in the house. He always assumed it was your grandmother, but now that he thought about it, you never mentioned her in your retelling of your family memories. Not once.

Then he turned the photo over.

E-001

Holy shit.

“Eveline.”

You nodded, and the look on your face spoke more than any words you could muster.

“I meant to tell you, I just… I couldn't find time to fit it into casual conversation, I guess. You know, with the whole running and fighting for our lives and all that.”

“Not much good the information would’ve done me, anyway. Although, the shock factor certainly has me speechless.”

You shrugged. “Could always do with a good ‘holy shit’ moment.”

“Mm. I think I already had one of those when you died and came back to life.”

“Sorry, I was saving that party trick for later.”

Ethan chuckled, but it quickly turned into a gasp when he reached the top of the stairs of the guest house, and the image of Eveline appeared in front of him. You were shocked to see it, too, knowing these weren’t your memories.

As you got closer, she disappeared, and her voice echoed through the dark, empty space.

“It’s your fault!”

Ethan stumbled back with a breath. “Why are we seeing this?”

You shook your head. Maybe Eveline knew. Knew that her end was getting closer. Maybe this was her last hurrah, a final attempt at striking fear through you to keep you from going after her. You knew she was afraid, herself. Because deep down under all that evil, and all that spite, there was just a little girl. A little girl who wanted nothing more than to have a family of her own, and it was ripped away from her. You could remember when you wanted that, too. More than anything. You just wished she had the similar story you did. Where a family did want you. A family loved you. But she would die, a child trapped in an elderly woman’s body.

What a sick joke.

When Mia suddenly stepped out in front of you and grabbed Ethan’s hand, you jumped back. But she ignored you, and when you looked behind her to see Eveline again, you realized it was another memory.

“Kill him, mommy.”

Ethan was slammed against the wall, and black crawled over Mia’s skin before she was raising a screwdriver and stabbing it through his hand. You almost screamed, terrified that he was actually hurt for a split second. But then she disappeared, and Eveline was right in his face.

“He doesn’t want to be my daddy? Then he can die.”

A deep breath shuddered through Ethan, and you helped him up onto his feet. He gripped your hand. Hard.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just… Feels so long ago when all this happened. Hardly feels real.”

You grabbed his bicep.

“This is it, Ethan. All of this, everything that’s happened tonight, it will be a distant memory. For all of us.”

He looked up at you through lidded eyes, and his hand squeezed.

“All of it?”

You chuckled and pulled away. “Most of it.”

His fingers gently caught against yours when you pulled away, and you sent him a small grin. But it quickly dropped from your face when you heard the revving of a chainsaw and turned to see Mia rushing at you.

“Holy shit—”

When she swung at Ethan, you couldn’t stop the scream that left you that time. But as the chainsaw came down, it just went right through him. He frantically ran a hand over his torso, like he was checking to see if he was still in one piece. And the look he gave you seemed like he was shocked to find out that he was.

“Ethan—”

He rushed by you without a word, taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time.

“Ethan!”

Quickly following after him, you almost cursed him out for rushing on ahead of you. That was until Evie appeared again, and Ethan had the syringe out and ready. She physically recoiled at the sight, screaming her disdain, and the force practically flung you and Ethan right off your feet.

“No, no, no! Stay away!”

When she screamed again, Ethan landed on his back, but not before shoving the syringe in your hand. The glass and metal was cold against your skin, watching it roll in your palm before you curled your fingers around it and gripped it tightly. So tight you thought you might break it, but you couldn’t risk having it fly out of your hands. It was like a brick wall was pushing back against you, that feeling like you were running in a dream where you just couldn’t move forward.

“Get away from me! Please! We can be a family!”

You finally got close enough to grip her shoulder, and you felt sorrowful.

“I’m sorry, Evie.”

The needle sunk into the junction between her neck and shoulder, and she screamed. It was so loud it almost burst your eardrums, ringing deep in your skull and ratling your brain. You winced as a bright light blinded you before the image of the little girl vanished, and in front of you was an old woman in a wheelchair. She looked up at you, tears in her eyes.

“... Why does everyone hate me?”

The words were like a knife striking your heart, and you kneeled down to touch her cold, bony hand.

“Goodbye, Eveline.”

Ethan finally joined you, but you both were jumping back when she suddenly stood out of her chair and began vomiting black ooze at your feet. She was shouting as her features morphed and melted, a look of horror forming on your face, and her body was nothing more than a puddle of mold and goo on the floor by the end of it.

“Damn you! Damn you all to Hell!”

Everything seemed to unfold before your eyes, a horrible situation only growing worse as mold quickly crawled over every imaginable surface around you, swallowing any remaining light, and formed a giant mass right in the middle of the wall. The mold shifted, and a horrible face was revealed under the mass, lashing out and screaming.

“Holy fuck!”

Your finger was on the trigger faster than you could think, pumping as many bullets as you could into the thing. You heard the boom of Ethan’s shotgun go off next to you, the sound making your ears ring, but nothing seemed to work. She was just getting closer and closer, jaw unhinged like she was ready to take a bite out of you.

“Ethan, I don’t think—!”

The floor rumbled under your feet when Ethan shot directly into Eveline’s eye and she screamed, the mold around her forming long tentacle like tendrils. The roof began to collapse, but she was grabbing you before you could run and thrusting you both through the broken roof. Ethan screamed, but you couldn’t see him. The mold had practically consumed him.

But then you were flying. Falling. Your sight full of nothing but clear blue skies.

It was beautiful.

Then the air was forced out of your lungs and you went tumbling through the dirt. It was like your lungs were on fire, desperately trying to suck air back into your body. It was only then that Ethan landed next to you, screaming out in pain. You tried to reach out for him, but he was too far, and you could barely move. Not when pain was shooting up your legs and back.

“Ethan. Ethan!” 

He turned his head, staring at you with wide, horrified eyes. Your attention was quickly drawn away, though, when the mutated Eveline burst through the roof of the guest house and came rushing down at you. She had only gotten bigger, more monstrous. It was unreal.

Pain shot through your leg, and you put a new mag in your gun. “Fuck, this is not how I planned the rest of my day going!”

Bullets seemed almost pointless for something this big. Like it would just absorb everything you shot at it.Your grip tightened around your gun. You couldn’t get this far just to lay on your back and die. Not when you’re so damn close to finishing all this. 

Ethan cried out, and you looked over to see that the mold had pierced through his leg and was lifting him into the air, his gun flying out of his hands. Fear surged through you, and you screamed his name, reaching up like you could grab him and pull him back down. He was flung across the yard, rolling only further away from you. You felt so fucking useless. Like you couldn’t protect him. Couldn’t save him. Your friends' faces flashed in your mind.

You wouldn’t let him meet the same fate.

You struggled to your feet with a strained cry, limping your way towards Ethan with pain shooting up your legs every dragged step of the way. Everything hurt so fucking much. You could practically feel every bone in your body aching and begging for rest. But you couldn’t stop. Not when Ethan was in trouble. Not when he could die if you didn’t do anything.

“Come on. Come on.”

You limply raised your arm, the weight of your gun heavy in your hand, and shot the remaining bullets in your clip. Then you heard the steady beating of helicopter wings, and for a second, you thought you were back in the field. Trying to protect your friends while taking out the enemy. But then you looked up, and you saw them.

They were real.

You couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. You briefly wondered if it was just a trick of the light. If it was a memory Eveline was playing for you. But you knew what her hallucinations looked like. This was too real to be one.

There was a muffled shout coming from Ethan’s direction, and you looked over to see him crawl for a gun a few feet away before shooting at Evie. The gun was more powerful than you’d ever seen a standard handgun be, and you could physically see the kickback even from how far away you were. Evie was hiding her face, trying to shield herself behind her mold, but Ethan was fast, reacting quick and getting a shot in whenever he could.

She thrashed around in the air, screaming bloody murder and cursing you and Ethan to Hell. Slowly, you watched as her face began to turn white, solidifying her features and crawling down her mutated form until she stopped moving. It was like a building coming down when she fell, landing right at Ethan’s feet. Chunks of her fell off and turned to dust at the force, and the ground shook beneath your feet. But holy shit.

It was over.

She was dead.

You were free.

Debris and ash fell around you, and you watched Eveline’s face crumble to pieces. Your legs struggled to move, but you willed them as hard as you could despite the pain rushing through them.

“Ethan!”

His head snapped towards you, and you could see him mouth your name. He struggled onto his feet, and your muscles burned with the fire of your efforts to reach him. Face wet with fresh tears, you steadily closed the distance between you until you were just a few feet away, but the pain in your legs finally caught up to you, and you stumbled on your feet. Ethan was right there, though, and you were crashing into his chest with a sob, hands gripping the back of his shirt.

He held you so tight it hurt, your ribs crushing your lungs as you struggled to breathe through broken cries. But you didn’t care, because it felt good to be in his arms again, knowing you were safe.

He buried his face in your hair, hand coming up to hold the back of your head, and pressed his lips against your temple.

“We’re okay. Fuck, you’re okay.”

You pulled back to look at him, his eyes frantically searching your face, and you laughed. His smile soon matched yours, and he carefully wiped away a rogue tear before it could dry on your face. The sight of people in full body armor sliding down ropes from the helicopters had you stepping away, but you put yourself in front of Ethan when one of them came towards you, his mask imposing and threatening. Not to mention just how big this person looked underneath all of it.

When he pulled his headgear off, it revealed the face of a man older than Ethan, crows feet around his eyes and grey at his temples. His brown hair was cropped short, and stubble surrounded the tight lipped smile he gave you.

“I’m Redfield.”

He held out his hand, and you clapped yours against it for a firm shake.

“What the hell took you guys so long?”

He chuckled, and directed you to a few of his squad members.

“They’ll see to your injuries over there. There’s a helicopter waiting to take you out of here.”

Ethan gripped the man’s arm before he could walk away, worry washing over his face. “Mia, is she—?”

“We found her. She’s fine.”

Ethan visibly relaxed, and you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s go get you patched up, cowboy.”

He smiled, and you both leaned against each other's side for support. But, while you were walking away, you heard the man speak into his com, muttering something. Then you heard a name.

Lucas.

You froze, and before Ethan could express his concern, you told him to go on ahead. He hesitated, not wanting to go too far away from you, but you reassured him with a smile and pushed him forward. Making sure his back was turned to you, you quickly— well, as quick as you could— maneuvered around and walked back towards the older man, loudly clearing your throat. He turned, eyebrow raised.

“You guys are looking for Lucas?”

“You know him?”

“He’s my brother.”

He nodded, as if you confirmed something. “Right. You’re the one the Baker’s adopted.”

Your eyes widened. “How the hell—?”

“We’ve done extensive research and background checks on your brother, including the rest of the family. Military. Special forces. Put on medical leave. Then you disappeared.”

You scoffed. “Yeah. Held captive more like. Look, if you’re going after him, I’m coming with you.”

He shook his head without a second thought. “Absolutely not. I won’t have any civilian casualties on my watch—”

“I don’t believe I was asking,” you said through gritted teeth. You let out a huff. “I can help, okay? I know his tricks, I know what kind of fucked up shit he’s got going through his head to know what moves he’s probably gonna pull. And…” You swallowed thickly, trying to keep your anger from boiling over at the thought of that asshole. “He hurt my sister, the people I care about. He tried to fucking kill us. If anyone’s taking down this bastard, it’s gonna be me.”

Redfield seemed to stew on your words, thinking a bit too long for your liking before letting out a sigh.

“Even if I wanted you to come, you’re in no position to go. You can barely stand on your feet.”

“Then pump me full of adrenaline, give me a super shot, anything. I don’t care. I’m going.”

You turned around and walked to where Ethan was receiving medical attention, his eyes watching that entire interaction.

“You always this stubborn?” Redfield shouted after you.

You raised your middle finger, and the man that was once tending to Ethan stepped to the side so you could tell him the situation. You could tell he was hesitant to let you go off on what he probably viewed as a suicide mission, but your hard stare and unrelenting attitude made him cave, and he was shoving a large needle with a strange green liquid inside it in your arm the within the next few seconds. You winced at the painful pinch, but the sensation that washed over you made you feel like you were back to one-hundred percent almost. He then explained that the next shot he was giving you was the vaccine, sticking it in the opposite arm. If you were honest, you didn’t feel any different after it. But maybe that was because Eveline was dead, and she had no hold on you anymore. “It’s not a permanent solution. You’ll still need a hospital visit and have your wounds properly looked at and dressed, but it’ll do for now.”

You nodded as you had your wounds cleaned and rewrapped with fresh gauze. Ethan looked at you confused.

“Wait, what? What does he mean?”

You sighed. He wasn’t going to like this.

“I’m going with them to find Lucas. I’m not letting my brother get away.”

Ethan stood despite other’s protests, shaking his head.

“You can’t do that! We— shit, we killed Eveline! Let these guys handle him!”

“Ethan—”

“No! Fuck, I’m not gonna stand by and let you put yourself in danger! Not when I just got you back!”

You stood there, shocked. Honestly, if you were in Ethan’s shoes, you’d react the same if he decided to suddenly go off fighting without you. But, you couldn’t let Lucas get away from you. Not after everything he did to you. And Zoe. And Ethan.

He gulped, tears lining his eyes. “Please, I— Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

It was like the air was punched out of you, taking in a shuddered breath as you reached forward and held Ethan’s face. Fuck, his eyes were pretty.

“Don’t forget about me.”

Chapped and bloodied lips pressed against his in an almost desperate measure to memorize him, the feel of his body pressed up against you, his smell, the way he tasted. Ethan sighed against your mouth as his hand came up to carefully hold your jaw. Whereas the last kiss was a reassurance in a moment of doubt, this one almost felt like a goodbye. One final act to remember each other before you were sent off into the void again. Ethan didn’t want to let you go. He couldn’t. Not when this felt so right and you were in his arms and kissing him and you were here. With him. Not off getting yourself killed by whatever your sick, demented brother had planned. You were safe. And he wanted to keep it that way.

But, he knew he couldn’t stop you. Knew that you needed this closure. So he pulled away from your lips with a soft gasp, and rested his forehead against yours.

“You know I couldn’t.”

You smiled, slowly pulling away, and a looming presence appeared behind you.

“Come on. We gotta get you geared up.”

You turned around, giving Redfield a two finger mock salute.

“Yes, sir.”

Ethan chuckled as you walked away, and you heard a low grumble.

“It’s Captain.”

“Sir Captain?”

“Captain Redfield.”

“Ahh. So first name basis is a no go? I mean, you know all about me apparently—”

“Is this really why you got sent home? For running your mouth?”

You turned abruptly, hands on your hips as you tilted your head up to look at this absolute behemoth of a man.

“I’d like to know whose life I’m putting in my hands, if you don’t mind. Little something called having trust in your team.”

He sighed, and you knew you were putting more wrinkles in his forehead and greys in his hair by each passing second. You almost smiled.

“It’s Chris.”

You curtly nodded when he reached out his hand, and instead of taking it, your fist was quick as lightning when it hit his bicep. He barely flinched. And now your knuckles hurt.

The fuck is his workout routine?

“Let’s get this show on the road then, Hercules.”

He wordlessly shrugged as you walked away, and Ethan couldn’t help but look on with a fond smile.

Yeah. He couldn’t forget about you if he tried.

Tagged: @kirbybeanss @xdarkcreaturex

[askweisswolf]

Last Light Loss (Jaheira, Tav)

I'm still very.... hfhrhfhdhhshshshs not happy with this piece but during Spirou's run I fucked up and lost Last Light Inn, and I had a lot of feelings about it, so I wrote it all out in something quick and dirty. Thanks @astarien for giving me the kick with that sentence game to post this properly.

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

There was something comforting about the water.

Spirou wasn’t a fool; he was sure the shadow curse had impacted the water as much as it had impacted anything else in this land. A curse like this couldn’t cling as strongly as it did without blocking out the sun, seeping into the trees and killing anything that tried to grow against it. The water was no exception in that regard, and he knew this logically. There hadn’t been a single stirring of life in these waters since they had set up camp, and he suspected there wouldn’t be any stirring at all until the curse was lifted.

Yet, there was something comforting still about watching the water lap against the sand. The movement, the sound of it; even under a curse, that was still the same. Perhaps it was the familiarity; the idea that the curse may have changed some things, but it hadn’t changed everything.

Or maybe it was just nice to watch, to let his mind go blank after–

After.

“I thought I heard you leave your tent.” He hadn’t known Jaheira for long, but there was already a familiar quality to her voice even rough with sleep. The polite thing to do would have been to look up at her from where he sat, perhaps to offer that she sit with him. Spirou continued to watch the water instead.

“I’m staying close to the fire.” Then, because he felt guilty that he couldn’t look at her, “I had trouble sleeping.”

“Aye, I figure most of the camp heard you tossing and turning.” Jaheira sighed, after a moment, then gently nudged him with her foot. “Scoot, boy.”

Spirou scooted; Jaheira settled next to him, leaning forward and resting her arms against her legs. For a moment, they both simply sat in silence, watching the water lap against the beach. It was easier to shift slightly, to look at her like this, even if in a way it felt more cowardly. Jaheira was quiet next to him, her eyes on the water, and in the darkness the gray strands of her hair looked almost like a beacon.

Spirou swallowed, shifted his gaze back to the water. “My dream visitor came to me tonight.”

“Do I want to hear this?” Jaheira asked dryly.

“Not like that, he just…” He ran a clawed hand over his face, fiddled for a moment with his piercings. “He told me I did a good thing. Rescuing the grove.”

“Ah.” It was soft.

“Only I didn’t, did I?” Spirou felt something burst in his chest, and he didn’t care. “I rescued the tieflings there and they got ambushed by the cultists. Your Harpers did more good for them at Last Light than I did. If I’d just–I don’t know, stayed away–”

His chest was bursting and yet at the same time was too tight; his lungs were beginning to burn, and Spirou blinked back against the darkness that danced at the edges of his vision. He didn’t even realize Jaheira had carefully rested a hand on his arm until she spoke, a little bit closer to him than she’d been before. “I suppose after your show of courage this is almost comforting. Take a breath.”

“I–”

“Breathe, boy. I don’t know how your parasites work but you’re stirring up your whole camp.”

Shit. He hadn’t even considered the parasite. He hadn’t even considered what the others–what Lae’zel–would be feeling through the parasite, with him like this. He blew out a ragged breath and dropped his head into his arms and focused on his breathing, focused on the feeling of Jaheira’s hand on his arm, focused on the sound of the water.

His chest eased. He felt, suddenly, like he was a child again and his aunt had just put a weapon in his hands for the first time. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“Like I said, it’s almost comforting. Nice to know I’m not the only one on the verge of a breakdown.” Jaheira’s voice was light, but her touch stayed; she only drew her hand back when Spirou lifted his head, finally looking at her properly.

Gods. She’d just lost her Harpers, had come to stay with them specifically to recover and lick her wounds, and here she was late at night checking on him. He almost wanted to apologize again, except he had the feeling she wouldn’t have appreciated it.

“As for if you should have come to Last Light or not, well.” Jaheira sighed, shifting in the sand to look back out at the water. “All I can tell you is in hindsight, we would have been ambushed with or without you present.”

“I lost Isobel.”

“We lost Isobel.” It was a gentle but firm correction. “If there’s any blame to be had for what happened to her, we share it equally. You didn’t lie to me, did you? About downing Marcus and losing her to his nightmares?”

“No!”

“Then you did everything you could have done. All you need to reflect on is why that wasn’t enough.”

Spirou let his gaze linger on her for a moment, then turned his gaze back out to the water. “Does that actually help?” he asked finally. “Reflecting on why it wasn’t enough?”

Jaheira laughed; the sound was raw and ragged around the edges, but it wasn’t a sob. “Not really. But I find if I don’t focus on how we can still fix this, I’ll keep going back to the inn. I can’t help anyone when I’m back at the inn.”

Spirou shifted hesitantly, unsure, then made up his mind; she had already closed the distance between them once, had touched his arm. If this wasn’t okay, she would let him know. He shifted again, a little closer to Jaheira, and after a moment leaned in tentatively so his shoulder gently bumped against hers.

Jaheira leaned into his shoulder, ducked her head. Spirou kept his eyes on the water, and didn’t say anything at the sound of ragged breathing, or the muffled sobs.

When it was quiet, Jaheira pulled away with a sigh. “Come,” she said, and they both ignored how wet her voice was. “We should at least try to get some sleep.”

Spirou tilted his head to look up at the sky, squinted. He couldn’t see through the curse, but he nodded.

When he got to his feet and held out his hand, Jaheira took it without hesitation.

[finnified]

“‘s that all you got, golden boy?” finn slurred with a triumphant smile as he twisted his fingers tighter into inigo’s collar. the kestrel looked at him with an unamused expression despite the dark bruise blooming over his nose. the waves crashed unrelentingly against the pier behind them, showering finn’s back in salt spray.

“y’know, back when i was a ke-“ finn’s next drunken speech was cut off as inigo yanked his head forward and knocked the kite backward, catching it off guard. it lost its grip on the kestrel’s shirt-front and went tottering backwards, footing lost. “y’know, finneas, you talk a big game for someone who cant even see a surprise attack coming- finneas?” inigo managed to sound victorious for only a moment before his opponent’s peril became obvious- finn was barely balanced on the edge of the pier, still reeling from inigo’s sudden burst into his chest. “hey, finn- finn-!” the kestrel lurched forward as the kite lost its balance and fell back, but neither was quick enough to mitigate each other’s motion.

finn hit the water with an unceremonious flwoom, immediately choking in a breath of bitter salt water. the feeling was enough to shock its system-

-but suddenly it was 11, not 20-something, and its head was being held under the surf by a pair of pale, gloved hands. finn kicked and coughed as the tide crashed into his face again, the leering and giggling above its head almost drowned out by the sound of the water rushing around its ears.

“come on, freak! we all know you’re not human- breath the water for us!”

the catcall was succeeded by more jeers and sardonic laughter as he was caught with his mouth open by another wave of water. the next time its eyes opened, a cruel, pale face hovered above its own, set with dark blue eyes that stared down at it, stormy with disgust and judgement.

finn tried to conjure some kind of retort, but all that would come out of his mouth was a deluge of choked-up seawater. the boy above him spit in its face before removing his pristinely-gloved hands from its shoulders, allowing it to sit up with a start, but only for a moment before it was immediately pushed back under, the salt water stinging its throat-

finn was yanked out of the memory by the sound of a person-sized splash in the water somewhere next to him, and he twisted around confusedly to catch a glimpse of emerald-dark scales flashing around him.

it wasn’t aware of losing consciousness, but it must’ve, because when it was next aware of its surroundings it was leaning against a barrel on the pier, coughing up its bodyweight in seawater.

two worried faces floated in his vision- joanna in the front, her hair out of it’s typical braided fashion and plastered to her face in a hundred little strands, and inigo behind her, looking conflictingly both annoyed and concerned. the kite’s brain took far too long to process the situation, but it immediately stumbled to its feet when it did.

“finn, what happened, why weren’t you trying to swim to the surface-“ it pushed past joanna as she started speaking nervously, glancing around at the signage in the square to make out the way back to the kite base. “finn-“ he whipped around, mouth half open and ready to say something cruel and dismissive to the concerned nightingale, but the sight of her waterlogged dress and fearful expression made the words wither on his teeth. he settled for giving her a look that he hoped conveyed some fraction of his meaning- really, he was going for “thank you for saving my life, sorry, i’m not mad at you”, but by the look on her face it doubted its sentiment got across. it turned again, setting off for the kite base, and didn’t look back after joanna continued to call his name. —

so, dizzy said one thing about jo having to pull finn out of the harbor and my brain immediately said “ah yes, it’s free angst real estate.” @pacificwaternymph hi dizzy! sorry about this one >:3

both inigo and joanna are lovely characters of dizzy’s creation. finn and his bully are by me :]

[stesierra]

@yesireadbooks tagged me! My words are water, purse, bottle and glass. I'm drawing from Cast Out.

I'm leaving an open tag and also tagging @elizababie and @macabremoons with the words sprint, fire, dirt, and cut.

Water

I came back outside half an hour later and found Thesil and Sefi sitting together, Thesil's arm thrown across the goose's back. Sefi was snoozing in the sun, her head tucked into her own feathers. I smiled.

"What did you run off for?" Thesil said.

"I wanted to see how many days we can afford to hide out here, in quarantine."

Thesil's mouth shut.

"I presumed you didn't want to run on to the next city. Not when you think we might carry the disease."

"No." She looked away from me. "I thought you might insist we do."

"Why? Because I wouldn't kill myself? We told Abursa we could quarantine ourselves. I meant it."

Her nod was slow in coming. "So. How many days can we stay here before we die anyway?"

I sat on her other side, the one not occupied by the goose. "With the small well near the crossroads, we won't run low on water. But I don't know how far our food will stretch."

"We can eat small meals."

"That will help. But how long is the journey to the next imperfecta camp? If we guess wrong–"

"Starvation," she signed, and looked pleased at herself when I nodded. She was picking up sign so well. Then her smile faded. "We have to risk it. We can't carry the disease to camp."

"No," I agreed. "Are you still convinced we'll be dead in a few days?"

She nodded.

"Don't think like that. Think what we'll do afterwards, instead."

"Walk a long way, I guess."

I nodded. "We'll need to find a new troupe as well."

"Why? You could make a good trade off your paintings without one. Paint a few rocks, and we'd be in business."

"Who would buy a rock?"

"If you put holy symbols on them, the pilgrims will."

"They're already starving."

"Soon so will we."

Purse

The perfectas reached our troupe at mid-day, driving a wagon pulled by donkeys, their necks straining against the weight. A tarpaulin covered the wagon bed. The drivers wore laborer's wool and no jewelry. But Abursa wheeled to greet them anyway. One perfecta tossed her a fat coin purse and drove the wagon into our camp.

I rose from under the shade tree where Thesil and I had taken shelter for the afternoon rest. Thesil was rubbing at her eyes as though an eyelash had lodged itself under her eyelid and multiplied. I left her to it. If the perfectas had brought us an automa, then I would need to paint it.

I reached the wagon at the same time as Abursa. She nodded to me and turned to say something to the perfecta man. He pulled the tarpaulin off the wagon bed with a flourish.

A wooden donkey lay on its side in the wagon, its legs longer and more graceful than any real beast's, its ears feather-plumes, its eyes balls of swirling glass. Its torso shattered by some massive impact that had smashed wood and cut a hole as long as my arm.

I caught a glimpse of the exposed core, glowing a subdued ugly yellow, before the scent of the oracle ore hit me. I staggered forward, visions creeping in at the edge of my sight, and fell to my knees beside the wagon.

Bottle

My gaze was on my little house, my refuge. Another step, and my foot glanced off something hard and round. I stumbled, kicking the obstacle out of my way, and wobbled upright. For once my balance had saved me a trip to the dirt.

The tripping hazard was a brown glass jug, its top tightly sealed with wax and tar. It lay on its side a few feet away until an unremarkable brown hand righted it. I shook myself out of my concerns about Grandmother and blinked at my surroundings. I'd nearly stepped on Tamorin and Gadara. They sat on a folded grass mat just beyond the line of automas, a healer's bag and a book open at Tamorin's side. Bandages and bottles stood out clearly against the bag's black weave. Blankets were folded neatly beside them.

Tamorin was holding the jug carefully and checking it for damage. His sister glared at me. "Watch where you're going."

"Sorry," I signed back.

"You're lucky you didn't break that. Then you'd be sorry."

"Was that a threat?"

Her lip curled. "If you want naphtha all over your legs, be my guest. But you might want to avoid the cookfire."

Glass

The house was beautiful. Some builder had stacked slabs of stone into walls and counters inside, and thatched the roof in bark thin enough that the breeze blew in and the sun stained the edges between strips pale. It had a stone floor, the same flagstone that made up the walls, but the windows were free of glass. Instead, someone had glued sheets of mica together to form a patchwork glaze across the view of the town. In points, it was nearly invisible. In others, it was layered thick enough to tint the world golden as honey.

[bbxkruger]

Hereditary Sin: Prologue

Remus Lupin x Platonic!Student!OFC

A/N: My first ever fic omg. Feel free to give this criticism lol. This is on my ao3 too :o @bbforbreakfast

!!REMUS AND THE OC ARE PURELY PLATONIC!! NO ROMANCE WHATSOEVER BETWEEN THEM

Summary: While many students pity Harry Potter for his infamous upbringing, Lorelei Burke salutes him for it. She has a dark past of her own; one that, fortunately, has been able to be kept under wraps by Dumbledore and those who know about it. Entering her third year not long after a terrible tragedy takes place in her family, Lorelei relishes in the safety and positive life Hogwarts gives her. That is until, her past comes to Hogwarts; threatening to unravel the image of herself that she has created for her peers and professors. The new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher soon comes to Lorelei's aid, determined to accomplish what he has failed to do in the past: save a friend.

His head was still spinning when he stepped outside of the infirmary to get fresh air. The rainstorm outside has come down from its dramatic climax; in the open stone arches, mist from the downpour swept in through swift waves. Mist settled upon Remus' face. The smell of wet earth and stone was a strange comfort to him. In such a time of emergency, he somehow immediately felt himself relax. He closed his eyes, his tense shoulders dropping from his ears, the lines of tensions in his forehead dissolving as he felt the muscles in his face become lax. The black cloud swirling and building up in his chest suddenly escaping his lungs as he let out a long exhale into the cold night air.

  When he opened his eyes, he was standing at the edge of the ocean. It was a rigid March day, frigid wind softly whipped through the air. Even in his much-too large jumper, Remus still felt the wind spindling it's way through the wool, looking up at the sky that was a huge globe of pearly white. He flexed his little hands and scrunched up his tiny nose, both of which were red and raw from the cold. All of a sudden, he felt strong arms wrap around his body. A huge weight that felt as though someone had draped a skinned bear over his figure. The cold immediately turned into a cozy warmth as he smelled the musk of his father's giant corduroy jacket and pungent aftershave from behind him. Another huge cloud of cool mist sprinkled Remus' skin and blurred his vision, making him screw his eyes shut and huddle closer against his father's warmth. His father let out a good belly chuckle, which vibrated against Remus' back.

"Look, Remmy! Look at Mummy!" He said through a fit of laughter pointing ahead to the woman standing where the tide swept in. He saw a woman with sandy blonde hair dancing around in the water, her red feet kicking the waves as they came in. "Alright Hope, come on! We'll be eating Remmy's cake in the St. Mungos since his mother decided to get a bloody cold!" He scolded, although Remus could hear the smile in his father's voice from behind him.

"Oh hush" she joked before kicking her foot up at the pair in front of her, sending damp sand in their direction. Lyall Lupin scoffed while Remus giggled, shielding his face. Her mother smiled brightly as she approached her boys

"See Remmy likes when I torture you!" She laughed as she enveloped the two into a group hug. Remus felt intoxicated by the overwhelming yet warm smell of his mother's perfume and the scent of his father's jacket. He never wanted to leave this moment. He screwed his eyes shut even tighter than before and clung onto his parents for dear life, like they would disappear if he was to let go. After a few moments, he felt the wind whip his cheek again before his mother placed her hands of either side of his face.

"Happy Birthday, Remmy. Mummy loves you so much"

It was March 10th, 1965.

A loud, muffled clatter from inside the infirmary slammed him back into reality, it sounds like a struggle prompted a tray of equipment to be knocked over. Even From outside the heavy wooden door he can still hear her screaming the same sentence at Dumbledore and Snape, the sentence which she can barely bring to a whisper when Lupin had first encountered her stumbling into the castle. 

In the hours that preceded the current struggle in the infirmary, Remus was the one to find young Lorelei. It was dinnertime and Remus was on his way to his office with a rather heavy stack of papers that were in dire need of grading. The full moon was to come in another three days, he thought it would be best to get as much work done before it was time. In the soft glow of the torches mounted upon the walls, the moving figure made him do a double take as almost all students were in the Great Hall for supper, as well as professors. Stopping in his tracks, he squinted and opened his mouth to greet the figure. The words died in his throat as his eyes adjusted to the dim hallway. The person was drenched from head to toe from the roaring storm outside, the vast patches of blood on the front of its uniform washing away into a soft pink. The blood smeared on its pallid forehead and hands running down its skin and dripping onto the brick under their feet. The sight made every hair on his body stand on end. He felt as though he had been electrocuted, like someone had poured a sack of lead into his stomach; a hot flash of panic so intense that he felt it spread through the soles of his feet.

On instinct, he whipped out his wand and pointed it towards the intruder; "Who are you?!"

Remus thought he heard whispering, although there was a possibility that the adrenaline rushing through his blood could have allowed him to hear a pin drop. The figure kept inching closer.

"Show yourself dammit! Drop your wand and show me your hands!" A sudden clatter of wood echoed across the hallway, the sudden noise made him jolt.The figure moved painfully slow, the echo of the wand dropping to the floor slowly ceased, bringing the hallway back to its original standstill. It grew close enough that Remus could hear the uneven pattern of its footsteps. It's limping, Remus thought. He held its breath, he felt his eyes dilate and breath quicken with anticipation. Please don't let it be him. Please Sirius, don't be the one I'm about to kill. And if I do end up killing you, please know that it was to protect the children. To protect Harry. The thought made his heart darken. Please-

As if Merlin himself had listened to his thoughts, A bolt of lightning filled the corridor with light. It wasn't Sirius, nor was it a man. It was Lorelei Burke. His third-year student would always crack a joke to ease tension among her classmates. Who would give a bright smile to those who were down or would help a struggling student. The bright student who practically leveled Hermione Granger in her wits, the two having innocent battles of current knowledge of what they were learning about in their charms class. Who would let Harry steal the candy that was Merlin-knows how old at the bottom of her bag. The stoic student who would try to hide her nosebleeds and dark looks from her peers in times of stress; but only few like Remus would notice.

She had secrets. Of course everyone had secrets, but hers were dark; far beyond anything Remus could have expected from one of his brightest students.  Through his efforts to get her to open up to him, he had failed. Oh, Merlin, how he had failed. And now, the living proof of his failure was standing before him. Though the lightning only lasted a few moments, The state of Lorelei would be an image that would be etched into the core of his mind for as long as he shall remember. Her eyes were lost, disconnected, yet full of such fear and alarm. One of the eyes had blood in them, causing her to blind rapidly every few minutes out of discomfort. Her limp was the result of a ghastly gash below her left kneecap. Her hair, which was rarely ever down, was drenched and raggedly framing her face. Her quivering lips were gaping open and closed like a fish breathing for air, which was not far off from what she was trying to do.

"Puh... pro- profes..." She briefly tried and failed to speak before sagging against the wall, stretching a bloody and shaking hand out into the open air. The voice wasn't Lorelei's, nor did it sound like it being so strained and cracked. His mind didn't even register committing to movement any time soon before he saw her lift another trembling arm to shield her face, her rickety breaths increasing speed by the second. She thinks you're going to attack her! Lower your wand, you bloody git! In one swift movement, he placed his wand back into his pocket and raced to Lorelei. The girl sagged against the wall like a sack of potatoes until Remus caught her. Carefully kneeling to the floor, he examined her leg wound before looking back to her face. He touched her forehead, checking for a wound.

"Lorelei!? What-?"

"s'not.. nuhmuhbluh" she panted, her fearful, wide eyes staring straight into his soul. Her hands have come to grip the collar of his cardigan. Her breathing had evolved into a quick, periodic wheeze that echoed into the corridor.

"What!?" He whisper-shouted. Her knuckles turned white from the vice-like grip on his sweater. She jerked her hands towards her chest, bringing Remus with them. Remus had to stop himself from yelping from the sudden action. Understanding, he turns his head so he can hear her better.

"s'not my blood!" She brought her voice to the highest volume she can, which was a shaky rattle. Remus felt his blood turn to ice. He grabbed her by the shoulders.

"What happened? Whose blood is this, Lorelei!?" He couldn't help the tremor that laced his voice. Her trembling ceased for a dull moment. Her breathing stopped before she reluctantly turned to look over her shoulder. Suddenly, another pound of lead was in Remus' stomach. He didn't even think of the possibility that whoever did it has followed her into the castle. At this rate, who knows how close they are to catching up to Lorelei. Without a moment's notice, he picked her up and started sprinting towards the infirmary. His heart was pounding in his ears, his legs were burning in muscles that he hasn't used in years. He cursed himself for not exercising in the last few years. For Merlin's sake, you're only thirty-five years old! MOVE IT! 

Rounding the corner, he nearly collided with another person. It was Snape. Never in his life had he been so happy to see the man. The latter however, looked like he was about so say something before freezing on the spot upon seeing his former classmate with a bloodied nearly-unconscious student in his arms.

"What is the meaning of this, Lupin?" He nearly bellowed, bringing up his hands to inspect Lorelei's leg wound.

"Burke was attacked, Whoever did it is on the school grounds. Notify Dumbledore and get everyone into a safe place, NOW!"

Sending one last look to the girl, Snape hurried down the length of the hallway towards the great hall. Watching him go, Lupin continued his stride to the infirmary as he barely registered Lorelei's final mutterings before slipping into unconsciousness

"Hare.... Hare.. ws'her... m'sry hare..."

Snapping out of his daze, Remus took his first deep breath in what seemed like years. Feeling the ice of the winter air enter his lungs. He could see his breath swirl as he exhaled. Taking one more for good measure, he looked around.

He couldn't understand how everything lead to this. His thoughts were bad enough before the full moon, but chaos seemed to come at every turn nowadays. His best friend betrayed his own friends. Three of his friends were dead. Sirius has come back hunting for his godson at the cost of other students' safety. And soon Remus would have to endure yet another transformation. Now not only was Harry in danger, but also Lorelei. He had once again failed to protect someone who needed help.

He looked up at the clouds, which still threw great rain from the sky. However, he began to see the translucent glow of a waxing gibbous moon. That wretched moon. His chest began to compress again. The struggle in the infirmary raged on as Lorelei kept screaming and objects were sent clattering. He could feel the mist from the rain seeping into his robes, permeating into the fabric and dampening his skin. The storm was no longer comforting, it hissed, and shouted. But he didn't want the rain to stop that night. He would do anything to stop the clouds from dwindling away, revealing that miserable orb.

He clamped his hands over his ears, squeezed his eyes shut, and prayed for silence. Just this once.

[sugarlove-01]

Cold Was The Night Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Jake was definitely with Amber.

She was straddling his crotch like his dick was her source of everlasting life. Her red catsuit and her devil horns were stripped and zipped down from her head and shoulders. Jake slipped his hand beneath the clasp of her bra sticking his tongue down her throat like he was feeding a baby bird. I slammed the garage door behind me and they both stopped and stared at me.

“E? Is that you?” he stumbled forward, throwing her to the floor. She dropped with a loud thud. He scrambled to cover his crotch. “E it’s not what it looks like. I’m just really drunk and she just wanted to give me water.”

My world became dizzy like my vision was hazy from too much heat. My head began to warm up and my cheeks flushed. I was too stunned to speak, so I turned on my heel and walked toward the first place that could give me peace and quiet; the woods. I began seeing red. There was nothing to say. There was nothing else to do but walk and walk into the night. Or was there?

I immediately ran back to the garage door and spat “Fuck you, Jake! Fuck you and you can go to hell! Enjoy an STD from slut-Zilla! I fucking hope you rot in hell and you two just fucking die together because you’re perfect together. Take it up the ass, Jake. Your dick’s small. You suck at kissing and Amber fucked your dad!”

Amber’s eyeliner ran down her cheeks. “I-I-I was just…”

“E, wait! You have to let me explain!”

“Fuck you, Jake!”

“You’re not hot enough to act like this!”

The house suddenly became silent with white noise with so many teens drinking, playing pool, playing darts, beer pong, and stripping naked in the pool. I push past the smell of weed and the naked boys with horse masks kicking a soccer ball in the living room. I shove past everyone until I see nothing but forest. The music of the party could barely be heard as I ran further and further through the trees and far from the backyard of Jake’s house until I was standing behind completely alone. He was supposed to be my first. My lungs were full of hot air and I could barely breathe. My heart…was broken. It was supposed to be special. My hands searched for my phone.

“Tina,” I take two deep breaths; my lungs feeling the fire grow within. “Tina. Tina.”

I grabbed my phone from my pocket and scrolled through my contacts. Dad. Mom. Tina. I scrolled back to Mom and took a deep hard look at her number. Wiping the tears coming from my eyes, I wanted to tell her what happened. But after hearing the whole ‘strong woman’ speech, this was something for my sister to help me with.

The phone rang.

And rang.

“Hello?

“T-Tina…”

“E?”

“T-Tina, you were right. You were right about everything! He was fucking her and I caught them. You were right about everything!”

“E, what happened? Did he do anal?”

I stomped my foot on the ground,” Tina please, you have to listen to me.”

“Stop talking like a fucking psycho! What happened? I can barely hear you! You’re breaking up!”

“He’s a dog! He’s a fucking dog! He is dead to me, T. Dead!”

“I-I can’t—hear—you!”

“Tina!” I screamed into the screen. “Fuck.”

My tears were allowed to fall freely once I was out of the woods and standing on the sandy pebbly beach. I wiped my nose. Be tough. Be strong. Nobody wants a sobbing mess on a night like this. Sniffing, I went to the edge of the pond and threw my basket into the black water screaming. I know my mom told me to be a strong woman but here I was crying over a boy; what a great birthday. I’m sure she would be proud of her little girl. The feeling of heartbreak and embarrassment felt nauseating and my head swam with possibilities it could bring, good or bad. 

My phone rang.

Mom.

“Mom?” I gasp, exhaling a big sigh of relief. Trying to catch my breath, I smile into the phone, “Mom, I’m so glad you called me.”

Thank god!

“Evey! I called Tina. Where are you?” she exclaimed loudly in a panicky voice. “Are you safe? Are you hurt?”

“Mom, I walked off. I saw Jake. I needed some air. It’s really stupid. I just want to come home.”

“Where are you? Are you safe?”

“I-I’m near the river. What’s wrong? You don’t sound right.”

Static came through the speaker. A rough noise came bellowing from my phone like a horn. Her voice faded until there was silence. The noise became a boom making me flinch and drop my phone.

“Mom!” I shouted louder this time, then I suddenly see a shadow move in the woods seen from the corner of my eye. I narrow my eyes to get a better look at this shadowy figure. The air turned ice cold and the hairs stood up on my neck.

��Hello?”

A gust of wind emerged from the woods towards me in a powerful gust. I could see my breath, it was so cold.

“Evey!” her voice came through the rough static. “R-Run, Evey! She’s c-c-oming!”

I knelt to the ground holding my phone,” Mom! What’s happening? Who’s coming?”

“E! E! Get back in the fucking house. Whatever she says she is lying to you! She’s a trickster Evey! She’s trying to take you away!”

Goosebumps prickled over my arms as the cold air had turned into snowflakes, softly falling from the sky. The lake water beside me began to transform into one giant iceberg. The leaves and flowers began to crisp, turn black, and crack into pieces. It was a tall shadowy figure standing against the trees almost as if this thing was wearing a large black coat over its head. My heart raced to watch this thing suddenly move as if it were made of clay, shaping and morphing into a face. It was mom standing against the trees.

“Evey!” my mother’s voice rang through the phone.

I couldn’t take my eyes away from this…thing. Mom, or whatever it was, began to slowly walk into the woods as slowly and as dimly as a shadow. Soon her arms and shoulders were visible to the point where her body figure stood amongst the trees, walking backward, never taking her eyes off of me. A voice in the back of my mind told me to follow her to wherever she was leading me. Her eyes weren’t her eyes, they were black, black as midnight. I took another step forward realizing I was halfway across the frozen lake. My stomach twisted in tiny knots thinking of the worst.

“Evey, come home…”

Its voice sounded so serene. So calm. But another voice came from behind, I turned my head to see my real mother.

My mother, my real mother came running and holding a hand against the wind erupting in a violent storm coming from the clouds circling above the lake pushing the leaves into a swirling vortex. She was still in her black dress with Tina by her side. She raised her voice waving her arms but I couldn’t hear her. I couldn’t hear any of them. The only thing I could see was the shadow and the only thing I could hear was…indistinct whispers. Whispers in all different voices but coming from only one person; her. I followed her farther out onto the lake, under the moonlight, until the darkness was so complete I was sure that I was lost until I saw her walk between a blanket of fog, steadily into thin air.

“Mom?” I called out, clutching the collar of my cloak tighter, protecting my face from the wind.

There was no answer, only more wind and a raging storm coming closer and closer until thunder and lightning broke the roar. Leaves whipped against my face while the lightning struck across the sky in bolts so big it shook the earth, and I shook.

“Mom!” I called out, kneeling to the ground, smashing my hands against the cold dirt. “Mom! Tina!”

The bolts of lightning momentarily lit my path of trees, leaves, and a figure standing among all of it. Somewhere Tina was calling my name and I was calling hers too, trying to find each other in these woods. Crescendos rang in my head until finally all together—it stopped. A silence so sudden I thought I had gone deaf. As soon as I opened my eyes, the world outside the circle was raging as violently as anything I’d ever seen.

Was I in some sort of bubble?

It was as serene and tranquil inside this invisible bubble. I stood up and saw Mom, smiling, with black eyes, standing next to the tree in a black dress and I wanted to say something to her, call out to her for help, and to come back with me to the house—until she disappeared. It’s almost as if the tree opened its mouth to eat her.

“Mom!?” I brought my hand to the tree, trying to find her. “Tina!?”

I bang my fists against the trunk and raked my nails across the hardwood, trying to understand what happened.

“Tina!” I screamed, realizing the lake was gone. I was standing on a pebbly beach and the lake had completely disappeared.

A voice reminds me to breathe, I inhale and a powerful feeling enters my lungs reaching higher and higher up into my head. It was a high feeling that I’d never felt before. A newfound strength rises and moves inside me, like a fire, and it’s getting stronger. With outstretched arms I feel the suction, being pulled into the dark mouth of the void and soon filled with warmth and reverence.

In a matter of minutes, the windy night sky transformed into a bright day. I’m falling, falling, and falling. The ground screams as it comes in contact with my face, I see a flash of white and red, I taste blood on my lip and the pain swells. My ribcage is pounding. I breathe, cough, and roll on my back looking at the sky. I flutter my eyes open and it takes a few seconds to adjust. Birds are in the trees while a cloud blissfully moves across the sky and the sun is warm against my skin.

What the hell just happened?

“Evey! Evey!” a voice, someone’s voice… Mom’s voice whispers in my head. “Evey, he needs you…”

“Mom?”

“He needs you…”

My face still hurts when I stand up and walk towards her voice, wobbling into the woods, reaching out for support. I have to get Tina, find Tina, and get the hell out of here and this nightmare will be over. Suddenly the whiplash sets in and all the contents in my stomach burst from my mouth in a fountain into the bushes leaving the sting of stomach acid lingering in the back of my throat and nose. My world suddenly becomes 2, then 3, then 4 images swirling across my eyesight in a kaleidoscope turning in circles. My knees turn into marshmallows as I fall back into the dirt and my world goes black.

2 Days Later:

I wake up in a cold sweat and kick off my covers, panting as if I ran a marathon. My body aches. I push the bed covers off of me. The furs and pelts fall into a heap on the floor. Sunlight pours in the windows and a rooster crows outside somewhere leaving me paralyzed in my place.

“Mom…” I mumble, holding a hand to my head. “Mom. Mom?”

Was I hungover?

“Be still,” a voice came from the dark, it was a man’s voice. His fingers come in contact with my head. “You’ve been asleep for nearly 2 days.”

His face looks blurry, like big blots of black paint in my vision moving across the room. My head is still swimming and my legs can’t stop shaking. I’ve never felt this way in my entire life.

“Dad?” I murmur, holding my fingers to my lips. “Dad, I had a bad dream.”

There was a pause before the man gently asks,” What’s your name?”

My tongue feels like an alien body in my mouth, dry and making disgusting noises as I try to speak,” Evey…”

Am I in the hospital? Through my lashes, he peers closer. My legs stop shaking and I finally see his face.

“Where am I,” I ask, barely whispering.

His whole demeanor tells me he wants something else, something important, besides knowing my name. I could feel it. The man nods his head pouring water into a cup before placing a hand against my head. He kneels up to leave the room for a moment to return holding a plate of food with a young girl walking beside him. She pulls back a hand before momentarily touching my head informing the man there was no sign of fever. They both look at each other for a moment before stepping out of the room to have a private discussion. He even closes the door. I wipe the crap out of my eyes and take a better look at the room. It’s…not home, that’s for sure. I sit up from bed to look at the beef and bread sitting on the bed table. My appetite is the least of my worries. I can hear the man and the woman argue outside my room before momentarily entering and it looks like the woman had the last word. He moves a chair in front of me.

“Evey,” he begins gently, pausing for a moment, looking back at the woman as if he was getting impatient with acting polite. “What business did you have in the woods?”

I rub my head against my hands, fuck I need some painkillers right now.

He’s waiting eagerly in his chair, tugging on a hair from his chin,” What business did you have in the woods?”

“What?” I whisper. “Oh my god, where am I? Are my parents here?”

It’s his last nerve and he stands from his chair,” The woods! You’ve been sleeping and speaking folly in your sleep. What did you—“

“Why were you alone out there?” the girl asks, holding his shoulder. She pushed him back behind her, separating us. “Especially all alone. You could have ended up in the belly of a bear or at the hands of savages.”

“Bears? There are no bears in Salem,” I look at her through my lashes. My head is still spinning, “I was just… looking for my mom. I just want to go home.”

“Your mother?” the man narrows his eyes,” That deep in the woods? No bears in Salem? Our guest must have struck their head harder than we expected.”

After splashing water over my face, I got a better look at them now and my mouth dropped. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach when I saw… whatever they were wearing. I saw the room. I saw and tried to digest where I was.

What in the fuck happened in the past 2 days!?

The girl rolls her eyes,” You must excuse Mr. Alden, I think the girl is quite parched, don’t you think? She must not be thinking quite clearly. Fetch her water please?”

Everyone in the room knew it was a tactic for him to leave the room which I would enjoy instead of receiving his suspicious glares. He kneeled from his chair and shut the door behind him. I wasn’t getting that water, was I? The girl put on a kind smile on her face and for a moment we both stared at each other, not knowing what else to say.

So, I was going to break the ice.

“Who are you?”

“Who are you?”

We both blurted out.

She straightened her back, “Anne Hale, it is nice to meet you, Evey…?”

“Blackwood, Evey Blackwood,” I nodded my head, rising from the bed and looking out the window. “Where… W-Where am I?”

A rooster screams somewhere in the distance as I look out the window. I see a group of pigs point their snouts in the mud while men and women wearing—whatever the hell it is they’re wearing—walking. Women hold baskets of fruit and bread and walk with their children while the men talk to each other in groups. The rooster’s scream jostles me back to reality and Anne comes up behind me.

“Evey, what is it? Are you ill?” she stepped closer.

I pull my hair into a messy ball on top of my head and grab my shoes at the foot of the bed wiping tears coming down my cheek. Anne is already grabbing the tray of food and closing the shutter window, rushing after me. This house is smaller than I expected, turning around a corner wall into the main living room. On instinct, I touched the wall for a light switch but there were none. There was no sign of modern technology, flat-screen TV, electric outlets, or any sign of indoor plumbing. Warning signs ring in my head as I take a deep breath and open the door to the outside world, but it’s nothing that I expect. I can’t take another step forward and my hand tightens around the door knob.

This is a dream, wake up.

“Wake up,” I repeat out loud, closing my eyes hard, and opening. “Wake up…”

I let go of the doorknob and step out into this different world. I don’t recognize anything! Or anyone! Anne is behind me trying to decide whether to let me wander like a poisoned sheep or help me back inside the house before I lose my mind.

“Wake up…” I repeat, louder this time.

“Oh, dear.”

Anne steps in to hold my shoulder and try to lead me back to the house trying to ignore the people stopping in their tracks to whisper among themselves. She tries to tell me to return to the house, but as soon as I see the body of…--- a body? My blood freezes, instantly, shackling me to the ground in invisible chains as I see the body of a woman hanging from a noose on a platform in the middle of the town. My bottom lip trembles, my stomach sucking up against my spine, while my memory is reeling in every detail of the corpse in high definition. She wore a black dress with a black bonnet over her drooping head with a red apron covered in something stinky, hanging limp as a doll.

Anne came up behind me, swallowing a sob, “I know how you feel. It’s an abominable thing; she didn’t deserve a fate such as this. I am as disgusted as you are,” Anne looked upon the hanging body with grief before scowling at the ground. “It’s madness. Complete and utter madness.”

“Anne!” a voice came from behind us, but I was too frozen to move or look who was talking. The smell of death was right in front of me and the sight of it was there too.

“Anne! What is she doing out here? If any of the selectmen or your father spy her prowling out here dressed like that then it’ll be a swift walk to the gallows! For all of us!”

Instantly, I feel my body being moved from the streets and back into the house. As soon as the door closes behind us, I suddenly feel relief, the world had gotten much smaller and composed of a single room with Anne and his man here with me. I could finally breathe. He shoves a glass of muck water in my hands and has a private word with Anne in the other room, while I decompress from shock. They’re speaking to each other, arguing even, as two parents would over their troubled child.

I’ve never seen something like that before.

In fact, no one should.

But this is Salem, only centuries before anyone I knew was born. Fucking time travel. I sniffle, wiping the tears away from my eyes. The word witch comes to mind and I’m hoping against all the odds that I’m not the century I think I am. That woman’s dead face, her blue dead face wasn’t leaving my mind, the image was still flashing in my head. What’s wrong with these people!? A rooster screams from outside the window reminding me what’s out there and I can’t help but feel alone like I’ve never been alone before.

Please, someone save me!

Anybody!

On The Sea:

It began with a dead blue girlchild, no older than two or three years, lying amongst the festering rats, intertwined among the bodies of her siblings and mother and father. Lifting her eyelids her eyes were white, riddled with red veins, milky, evident of unnatural death. The ship did not rock, nor did it stir, refusing to voyage any further in these deep waters lucidly sitting among the fog underneath the full moon. But it was not the water creatures beneath that disturbed the great witch-hunter Reverend Mather, nor were its dead passengers, but the evil that resided on this ship, living largely on the dead souls it served itself. With a heavy boot, he pushed her body on her back revealing her worm face slick with sea slime, pouring water from her lips, rotting in her bones. The poor girl never had a chance. The Captain, in his state of selfishness, urged the Reverend to return back to the deck explaining a strangeness spreading throughout the ship but Increase, coiled and brazenly angry, snarled and pushed the Captain away from him. The serious matter was not being understood by the Captain, but how could he understand, he had not dealt with forces such as these. Forcefully disregarding his orders to return—only an insidious truth and discovery has been revealed.

“Reverend! These are not your quarters; please return out of this foul place. It has been 7 days becalmed, no wind, with our food and water diminishing.”

“Foul, it is indeed,” the Reverend hissed looking out over the ocean. 

His gloved hand moved the head of an unconscious man back and forth as if checking the head of cabbage, checking, rechecking, dismissing then moving on to the next poor soul that would never live to see another day on this ship nor on land.

The Captain gazed upon the poor souls with a grimace, “Is all of this meant for a purpose?”

“Does this…” he lifted the body of a boy, limp, blue, frozen from his spot. Lifting the body with both arms and shoving it into the Captain’s arms with a shove, sending him trembling in his place. Increase pointed to the boy’s face, dead, cold, and tragic. “Need purpose?”

The Captain huffed, circling in front of him. “We are hopeless. This ship is becalmed between lands, we are stuck.”

“This ship is spelled,” growled Increase, ruling across the floor back and forth, not looking at the Captain, but looking at the faces of the diseased, snarling, feeling, smelling, knowing a demon lurked somewhere here, now, taunting him. Never go weak or weaponless into the darkness and Increase will do just that.

“It’s here.”

The Captain stepped closer, cautious to give the strict Reverend his space, “What’s here?”

Quickly, he fetched his book from his pocket, gripping the leather bind with intense vigor it ought to crumble into dust, and he, at last, gazed upon the Captain, “Make no mistake—I will find him.”

[the-royal-blue-network]

Paula walked through her front door and kicked off her heels. Sweeping them into the corner of the room with her foot, she didn’t even bother to turn on the lights as she made her way across her loft and to the kitchen.

“What, no greeting?” Said a deep and unfamiliar voice. 

Reaching in the back of her pants, Paula whipped out her gun.

“Woah, easy!” Said the voice as the shadowed figure slowly put their hands up.

Paula returned to the door and turned on the lights without taking her eyes off the figure. 

“How the fuck did you get in here?” Paula asked, finger hovering over the trigger.

Her home was a fortress. Her loft was purposely disguised to look like an abandoned building and was accessed using a seven-digit code which she changed monthly. 

“Dad gave me the code.” Said the deep voice.

Paula’s heart nearly stopped dead in her chest. Of her four brothers, she only had two living ones left: Louie, who was currently doing time upstate, and Mikey, the baby of the family. Mikey had been abducted by a rival family when he was ten and Paula was fourteen. Prior to his abduction, Mikey and Paula were as thick as thieves. Everywhere she went, Mikey was right there with her. Their uncles and some of their father’s friends would joke that Mikey would turn out to be gay if he kept spending so much time with his older sister but, one day after Pauly pistol-whipped one of his oldest friends for making such a comment, the men quickly learned to shut up about the matter.

To Pauly, the sexual orientation of his children never mattered but in the face of the outside world, Pauly needed to set an example. He needed his friends to know that he wouldn’t tolerate anyone talking shit about his baby boy.

Paula flicked on the lights and found her baby brother sitting in the black lazy boy tucked in the corner of the room. His hair was long and unkempt, some of it falling over into his eyes. His face was covered in hair as well, his beard perfectly shaped with a straight edge. 

Standing in the middle of her living room, Paula stared at the younger spitting image of her father. 

“You’re not a little boy anymore.” She said, frozen in place.

Mikey laughed. God, he even laughed like their father.

“Nope. Not anymore.” He said.

The air around them was tense as Mikey shifted his weight from one leg to the other. 

“What are you- how did you-” 

So many thoughts were popping into Paula’s head, that she couldn’t even think straight.

“I was hoping we could talk. Do you have time for that? I made dinner.” He said pointing his thumb behind him to the kitchen.

Paula laughed.

“You broke into my house and cooked?” She said, shaking her head.

Mikey rolled his eyes.

“I told you, I didn’t break-in. Dad gave me the key.” Mikey said.

Paula shook her head once again before patting her brother on the arm and making her way to the kitchen, Mikey close behind. After making their plates, the siblings made their way to the living room where they sat down on the carpet and ate at the coffee table.

“So yeah. I decided enough was enough. That night, when everyone else was asleep I packed my shit and I got the fuck outta there.” Mikey said finishing up his story.

Paula saw red as she envisioned her mother allowing some asshole to hit her baby boy. The thought of it alone made Paula’s blood boil and her vision to turn red.

“So where’s this asshole now?” Paula asked as scenes of what she wanted to do to the man played out in her mind.

Mikey sighed.

“Come on Paula, don’t ask me questions I can’t answer.” Mikey said.

Seriously? He was still willing to protect their mother after all she’d put him through? 

Paula bit her tongue; Mikey already seemed upset and she didn’t wanna make it worse by arguing with him.

“So how long are you gonna be in town for?” She asked, changing the topic.

Mikey smiled a tight smile.

“Well, I was thinking of moving back. I still need a ‘face job’ and hell, I don’t even know if dad will even let me into the family business, but I’m pretty good with numbers. Maybe I can work with some of the accountants or something.” Mikey said.

Paula could see the stress and worry in Mikey’s eyes as he spoke about their father. If there were two things Pauly valued above all else; they were family and loyalty. If Pauly told you you were dead to him, that was it, you might as well pack your bags and ditch New York State altogether.

“Mikey, you were a fucking baby! Dad’s not gonna hold what that bitch did against you. ” Paula said.

Mikey sighed and Paula could tell that’s exactly what her baby brother needed to hear.

“I sure hope not.” He said with a nervous smile.

Paula patted her brother’s cheek lovingly.

“Tomorrow we’ll go to the safehouse and talk to him.” Paula said.

“Don’t you mean today?” Mikey said, nodding his head in the direction of the clock behind her.

Paula turned around and looked at the clock; it was four in the morning. Shit, she had to be up in four hours.

“Fuck. Yeah, today. We should get some sleep.” She said with a laugh.

Grabbing his face in her hands, Paula pulled her baby brother in close, pressing a kiss on his forehead.

“Welcome home baby brother.” She said.

Grabbing some clothes her father usually kept at her place just in case, Paula handed them to her brother along with a towel. Then, as he went to take a shower, she set up the couch.

Not wanting her baby brother to be alone, Paula set up one side of the sectional for him and the other side for herself. Then, when Mikey got out of the bathroom he laid on one portion of the sectional while she laid on the other.

Staring up at the ceiling, Paula could feel all the thoughts and questions buzzing around in her brain. There was so much she wanted to know. But they had more than enough time. So, setting all her curiosities aside, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off to sleep. 

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