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deluxewhump · 19 days

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Gameday

Early/middle-ish timeline Z2. Zee is taken to a football game and left out in extreme heat.

CW: BBU, deliberate neglect, collared, tied, overheating, heat exhaustion, alcohol, complicit caretaker

It wasn’t until Sunday that Alex would learn all the details of what happened the previous afternoon. He’d been with Claire all day on Saturday, until he left to go to the game. It was August— the start of football season. Fall classes started Monday, and he’d had Claire on his mind lately. He hadn’t seen much of her over the summer, but she seemed as eager to meet back up as he was.

Later, he told himself that was why Zee hadn’t been on his mind at all that day. It didn’t make him feel better.

He didn’t notice that Zee wasn’t there when he stopped off for a change of clothes at the house. He decided to leave his car and Uber, giving him free rein to drink.

He got to the stadium twenty minutes before the game was set to start, the Panthers versus New Sovereignty. It was nearing ninety eight degrees without so much as a gentle breeze to alleviate the oppressive heat. The sun beat down on his head the moment he stepped out of the car, and he could feel a sheen of sweat on his face only a few steps later.

Outside the stadium was a large fountain that was dyed green every St Patrick’s day. Around it, grassy squares were sectioned off with sidewalks. Despite kickoff approaching, there were still throngs of people walking towards the entrance, in line for the various food trucks, and tailgating near their vehicles or under canopy tents.

Paul had texted him that they’d be under one such tent until gametime, and gave him vague directions to find it. He almost walked right by it, but recognized Tyler’s matching set of hot pink camping chairs that usually sat outside on the back porch. It looked like everyone had already cleared out for the game, except some guy he didn’t recognize who was sitting directly next to a bluetooth speaker, beer in hand. He looked wasted, sunglasses askew on his head and his face red from the inescapable heat of the afternoon.

“They head in?” Alex asked him, gesturing to the stadium.

The guy nodded along to the music, but more exaggeratedly so, as a yes to his question. He wouldn’t have seen Zee at all if he hadn’t stopped to open one of the coolers and grab a beer. When he did, he dropped it right back into the cooler. That it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been was only due to the fact that he’d arrived when he had. Another hour or two and it would have been much worse.

“Shit,” he muttered, stepping outside the canopied shade and into the direct heat again. He bent to his knees beside Zee.

Zee flinched away.

“Hey,” Alex said. “It’s me. It’s just me.”

Recognition filled not only Zee’s eyes but his entire posture. He was sitting on the ground, in the sun, wearing long pants, a thick jersey, and a football helmet of all things. Alex pried it off, noticing how his hair was as drenched as if he’d just stepped out of a shower and how red his face was. He had on his thick collar, and a slim cord of climbing rope was tied from the ring to a stake in the ground.

He tried to pull the stake but it didn’t budge. He gave that up quickly, going instead for the knots around the collar. They were tight, and his fingers were slick from the drink he’d taken out of the cooler. He wiped them on his pants and tried again, leaning in and using his teeth to start loosening the knot. He was beginning to wonder if by some miracle he’d find a knife anywhere when it came loose, and he was able to untie it. The rope fell from the collar and he stood up, dragging Zee backwards under his arms into the shade of the tent.

“What the hell is this?” he asked over his shoulder. The only other occupant of the tent was still drinking, still oblivious to everything but his music. He looked their way and shrugged innocently.

Zee lay on his back as Alex reached into the cooler and pulled out a handful of ice. He opened Zee’s right hand and placed it inside, bringing it to his face for him. Zee got the idea and held it against his forehead, his cheeks, his neck. His whimper of relief made Alex’s stomach lurch with useless anger. He rummaged in the cooler for water, but found none. He opened a second one and dug through the ice with the same results.

“Is there nothing but Coors goddam lite in here?” he asked the straggler, who leaned forward and pointed at a third cooler underneath a folding table. He opened it to the blessed sight of bottled water. After pulling Zee back to a sitting position he held it to his mouth to let him drink. Zee dropped the ice and grabbed at the bottle, squeezing it inelegantly so water went not only into his mouth but down his chin and the front of his shirt. Alex peeled the thick polyester jersey from his ribs and up over his head. Zee seemed glad to be rid of it, and leaned back against one of the coolers, half naked and breathing deep deliberate breaths.

"I couldn't get that knot untied," he said. "It was too tight."

He knew better than to ask Zee any questions. He’d likely not get much of an answer. After his first few admissions regarding Cam, he learned quickly that sharing details among the brothers resulted in arguments, and that discord always returned to him eventually, with him painted as some sort of snitch.

“You’re okay,” he said instead. “You’re good now, Zee. It’s okay.”

Inside the stadium, the band began to play. The words of the announcers were too far to make out, but they echoed across the hot air. He picked an icecube off the grass and circled it over Zee’s face. Zee closed his eyes.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re still sweating,” he said, and Zee nodded as he took another swig of water. He let Alex feel his pulse with untrained fingers, unsure exactly what to look for but compelled to do it anyway. It felt fast. He got up and cast a glance around the tent. The remaining guy was probably too drunk for the game, and volunteered to stay behind with Zee and everyone’s belongings. Zee wasn’t much of a guard on his own if he was tethered to the grass outside the tent like a dog. Except if it was a dog, he thought bitterly, some passerby probably would’ve noticed and helped it by now.

“Hey!” the would-be guard frowned as Alex began rummaging through belongings.

“Shut the fuck up,” returned Alex.

After searching two bags of items that were no use to him, he pulled a handheld mechanical fan from a third. He returned to Zee and held it in front of his face, the tiny blades whirring and blowing his sweat-drenched hair with cool air. For the first time since he’d found him, Zee looked at him directly. A mixture of relief and something else was in his eyes. What that other thing was, Alex wasn’t sure. It might have been where were you? Or perhaps I told you so. Maybe he imagined it entirely, because with his next breath Zee thanked him so earnestly he found himself shushing him and getting a new piece of ice to run over his skin.

“There’s an ambulance by the entrance,” he said, and no sooner were the words out of his mouth than Zee was shaking his head weakly. Alex held the ice midair.

“I can ask them to look at you,” he insisted. “You don’t have to go anywhere with them.”

Still Zee shook his head. “M’okay,” he whispered. He took another swig of water. After second thought, he dumped the rest over the top of his head and closed his eyes. Alex kept the fan on him.

“Do you feel sick?”

“Not now. Just hot.”

When Alex took out his phone to call another Uber, he noticed two missed calls from Paul, probably asking where he was. He had no doubt Paul was one of the ones in the tent who abandoned their boxboy in the heat to go inside. He ignored them, and chose the soonest available pickup. He couldn’t bring himself to put Zee back in the thick jersey he’d found him in, and told him to wait while he walked to a nearby vendors tent and bought him a cotton tshirt. He didn’t think Zee would appreciate being paraded through a crowded event shirtless with that thick collar locked around his neck, even just to get to the curb for the driver. He couldn’t say he would relish the attention, either.

In a crisp New Sovereigns tee, he walked dutifully beside Alex to meet their car. Alex opened the door and let him climb inside first before going into the backseat after him. Zee sat in the middle and slumped over into the far seat, his head pressing against the door.

“Hey,” Alex muttered automatically to the driver. To his dismay, the driver looked in the rearview and turned around, beaming.

“Alex!”

He recognized Alexander Katz from biology lab and forced his mouth into a friendly smile. In that class, Alex was Clair and Alexander was Katz. “You’re missing the game,” Alex said, automatically making casual conversation. It made the entire situation feel worse, somehow.

“Ah, I need a few extra bucks,” answered Alexander. “You’re gonna miss it too, though, by the looks of it.”

Yeah, boxboy duty. My friends left him tied to a stake in record-breaking heat. “My buddy’s drunk,” he lied. “I volunteered to take him back to the house.”

Alexander rolled his eyes knowingly. “Heard that,” he said, and consulted his side mirror before pulling out into the street. He had to stop for a throng of polo-wearing boys and their cowboy-booted counterparts to cross, headed for the stadium. Alex took the opportunity to check on Zee like one might check on an egregiously drunk friend. He was awake and breathing normally now, and Alex noticed he had pulled his new shirt up to hide his collar.

After fifteen minutes of slow gameday traffic and painful smalltalk with Alexander, the car arrived on their residential street near campus, only a mile and a half from the stadium.

Alexander reached back for a fistbump and offered a helping hand with his drunk buddy. Alex declined, saying he was still good enough to walk, just blacked out. Zee played his part, keeping his shirt lifted to hide the collar and looking like a wasted college student might as he stumbled out into Alex’s arm and let him guide him to the front steps. He dropped the shirt the moment Alexander was out of the driveway and stood up straighter, decidedly less drunk-looking. Alex felt more shame than gratitude that he’d played the part he was assigned so willingly. Even in the state he was in, after what he’d just been through. Just to save him some hypocritical sense of embarrassment.

The house was cool. The airconditioning was on, and fans spun lazily in the high ceilings. Zee headed straight for the shower, but Alex asked him to wait. He did so, staring stone faced at the floor as Alex took the stairs two at a time. He returned with his copy of the key he’d negotiated from Cameron, and unlocked the collar so it fell away from Zee’s sweaty neck. He rubbed at the indentation it left, but said nothing.

“Go,” Alex nudged. With his permission, Zee continued to the downstairs bath and turned on the shower.

He sat on the couch for a full five minutes with his elbows on his knees, staring at the muted television. The game they’d just left was on. He couldn’t help but watch for Dominic.

Zee came out of the shower and sat on the sofa, on the opposite end, as far as he could have possibly sat from him.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Alex asked gently.

“You saw it,” he said blamelessly.

“Who tied you out like that?”

He was reluctant. “…Does it matter?”

Alex couldn’t look at him. If he pushed, Zee would tell him. But he was right. It didn’t matter who specifically. It was a group effort. He watched the Panther’s coach spat on the ground and make a frustrated hand gesture in the direction of the field. Not one quarter in and the home team was pulling far ahead, just as Alexander had predicted in the car.

“I guess not. Where is Cameron?”

Zee shrugged. With both Alex and Dominic gone, Cameron was Zee’s last line of defense, as dubious as that was. It seemed to be working lately, as much as Alex hated to admit it.

“You can catch most of the game if you go now.”

He forced himself to look at their boxie. He looked better now, if tired and a little sunburned on his forearms. At least that heavy jersey they’d had him in had protected him from more of that. “I’m not going to the game.”

“I’m fine now. Thank you.”

“I’m staying here, Zee. I don’t care about the game.”

They watched in silence as the camera panned the crowd.

“Do you want to come with me tonight? I’m going to Claire’s house.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah. That’s why I asked.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“I don’t need to be babysat. Cam will be back soon.”

“That’s not why I offered. Claire likes you. I thought you might want a change of scenery tonight. I’d like you to come with me.”

Zee laid sideways on the sofa, much like he had in the back of the Uber. “Okay.”

Alex stood up. “You need some gatorade, or a snack or something.”

Since it wasn’t a question, Zee offered no reply. And as always when it came to Alex, no resistance.

#bbu #heat whump #complicit caretaker #fits alex better than carewhumper i think #alcohol mention #Alex and Zee #I never give my whumpees medical attention because I don’t know what I’m talking about <3 #you understand #I just fixed like eight typos that didn’t exist before I swear

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bby-bo · 1 year

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When the Boss Comes Knocking pt. 2

the love on part one has been so wild ❤️ thank you guys sm for reading, I hope this drags you on an even wilder emotional rollercoaster than last time 🤠🤠

I sure as fuck have no proper explanation for my actions here, brace yourselves.

Summary: Sakusa knows he screwed up, but he’s quick to get on his knees to work for your forgiveness.

Warnings: solid combo of angst, fluff, and smut, reader is all over the place, Sakusa eating p*ssy 🫶🏼

“Always Yours, Kiyoomi”

The note had sat on your desk for 3 days, staring you down with the heat of hell tucked into the ink scratched on the paper. It was Friday, the day the Sakusa Group was to officially purchase the small publishing house you wrote for, but the man himself had yet to show up since your last encounter.

3 painfully slow days of no contact or sign of Sakusa had felt like 3 years, and you couldn’t help but feel angry. Angry that he thought he could come back into your life at his own convenience, with no explanation of his leaving for so long. Upset that you wanted him to come back. Pissed at yourself for letting him treat you like this.

The back and forth in your own brain was clouded by the memories of him, one hand on your throat and one in your hair, pulling you in. The look of satisfaction on his face when you finally called him by his first name again. The sweet bliss of his deep voice directed at you. It was inescapable even on your morning commute to work.

Opening the door to the lobby, you greeted Josie as always.

“Morning Josie”

“Oh good morning! There was a message left for you, actually. Mr. Sakusa’s secretary called and mentioned setting up a lunch meeting today around 1 pm.”

Surprise and irritation shot through the fog in your brain. He couldn’t even call you himself?? His behavior was getting ridiculous, and at this point you were going to completely miss the next 4 deadlines for the book you were working on if this distraction kept up.

“What?! Don’t respond please, I’ll just eat lunch here like usual” A guilty blush immediately spread across her face and you just dreaded whatever she was about to say.

“Um… I already scheduled it. Sorry! It felt like maybe you guys got along last time since you spoke for so long in your office and I thought maybe it would be a good idea to-”

“What??? Josie NO!” Complete horror washed across you like an ice bath, and you immediately realized that you were not dressed for a CEO level lunch date.

“I’m sorry to spring it on you like this. But hey, at least he’s sending a car to bring you, right?” She finished her sentence with a bright smile, totally not understanding why this was the absolute worst thing in the world.

You gave her a fake laugh and a smile, trying not to be too mean to her in your mind before heading straight into your office and slumping into the seat.

“Always Yours, Kiyoomi”

The note stared back at you, and you narrowed your eyes at his name. Fuck. Off. Sakusa. If he wanted to play this game, you certainly weren’t going to make it easy on him.

You had no time to let the regrets from your last encounter stew when time was not on your side today. Stealing your nerves, you got to thinking of all the things you’ve been wanting to say to him, all the things you’ve been dying to ask. But time raced against you, and when Josie knocked on your office door it felt as though no time had passed at all. You were still just as nervous as before, but an unfamiliar man in a suit followed behind Josie, ready to take you to your demise- a.k.a the Sakusa Group headquarters.

It was 45 steps from your office to the car, 30 minutes in the car between offices, and now only 10 steps from the car into the massive lobby of the tower where the beast resided. Someone greeted you straight away, and escorted you all the way to Sakusa’s door.

Shit. Shitshitshitshit. Your mind and heart were racing, but you took in a deep breath and reminded yourself to resist his efforts to win you over. Yea right, resist the irresistible. Great plan.

The door opened, and there he was. Goddamn this was going to be more difficult than you thought.

Sakusa’s deep voice rang out, smooth and rich like dark chocolate. His usual black button down and slacks made him the picture of all your work romance fantasies- not that you were thinking of anything like that. Certainly not.

“Thank you George, you may go.” Your escort bowed in respect, and closed the door on his way out. Sakusa said nothing, just smirked as he stood and walked toward the door, and locked it.

You stood frozen, feeling the heat of his chest warming your back. A large hand brushed your hair away from your face on one side, exposing your neck as Sakusa planted a soft kiss beneath the corner of your jaw, letting his breath tickle over your skin. You could just feel the smirk widening across his face. But as much as your knees were already growing weak, your anger refused to be forgotten this time.

Your figure’s sharp turn cut his growing smile off into a small frown, those dark brows furrowing slightly.

“Stop that. You owe me an explanation and I won’t let you near me until I get it.” Your voice was shaky, but you got your words out clearly.

Sakusa just closed the space between you again, towering over you with slight irritation on his face. This was obviously not how he expected this meeting to go.

“What is with these horrible greetings each time we meet? I’ll teach you this lesson as many times as I need to-”

“YOU were the one who told me not to call you Kiyoomi all those years ago, so don’t gimme that bullshit!! You don’t get to break up with me, be a total dick during our last conversation, disappear with no contact then return into my life like nothing happened years later! There is absolutely no way I can accept anything you offer me when you have completely shattered the very foundation of our relationship, Sakusa!”

The pent up energy, anxiety and ire that had slowly been collecting in your heart and mind this week was at its boiling point, finally spilling over as angry tears gathered in your eyes, your finger jabbing into his chest.

His demeanor changed entirely as he listened to your rant, and a serious look crept over his face, but he made no move to interrupt you. Even now, when you were so worked up that you couldn’t see straight, you couldn’t decide if you wanted to push him away or wanted to cry into his arms. He let you finish before speaking.

“So this is how you’ve been feeling. Come here, sweetheart.”

Simple acknowledgement was all it took for your tears to fall, and strong arms gave you comfort as he tucked your head beneath his chin. His fingers stroked your hair, and that damn cologne filled your senses as you tried to contain your emotions.

He brought his palms to your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the salty tears beneath your eyes as his gaze softened into something you’ve missed so desperately since high school. His tone was serious but gentle as he spoke his next words.

“I know you’re angry, yes?” You nodded aggressively, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I hear you. I want you to look at me sweetheart, tell me how I can make it up to you. What can I do to fix this?”

“I don’t know if this can be fixed Sakusa, I thought you just walked off and forgot about me after high school and I-”

“You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“If I’m wrong then prove it! Some explanation, anything is better than the nothing you left me with!”

Sakusa let out a heavy sign before pushing his hands into the roots of your hair, and kissing your forehead. He took your hand, fingers intertwined with yours as you swiped at the last of your tears.

“It doesn’t excuse the way that I’ve treated you, and I sure as fuck am not proud of it but I can give you an explanation. Let’s sit while we talk, yeah?”

You followed him into a connecting room, a dining room of sorts, complete with cushioned seats and a glass coffee table. Sakusa settled in a seat next to yours and turned to set his serious gaze on you, so you might understand his sincerity.

His chest expanded as he took a deep breath, and released it slow.

“My family has always been demanding, and I knew their wish for me was to take over the Sakusa Group as early as possible. But I was young and dumb, and I didn’t have the confidence that I could actually do it. I know it’s no excuse for leaving you like that, but I was scared to fail. Disappointing you was something I couldn’t handle, and I wanted to prove to myself that I could become someone worthy of taking care of you one day. So I made sure to cut ties and cut them sharp so that if I did fail, you would hopefully never find out.”

This… this was not what you expected. Had he always been so concerned with your judgment of him? Why did he not let you support him? You had every confidence in your Kiyoomi back then, and you had always tried your best to show that, so why..? Did you not tell him enough? How could you ever possibly be disappointed in him?

“I didn’t forget what I said to you back then. I’m sorry I was so selfish, sweetheart.”

Tears threatened to spill over again, and you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes. There was a soft shuffling sound and the scraping of a chair across the hardwood, and when Sakusa tugged your wrists from your face he was kneeling before you. Still tall enough on his knees to be nearly eye level with you.

“Don’t cry baby, look at me.” His fingers tucked beneath your chin, raising your head slightly.

“Tell me what I wanna hear. Come on love” You knew what he wanted immediately.

“Kiyoomi” Your voice was just above a whisper, but enough understanding was translated in that one word. Not quite forgiveness, but understanding.

This had always been a thing between you two, even in high school. When first names were used after an argument, you could both recognize that things were back on the right path. So it wasn’t quite forgiveness, but it was a step.

“Again.” But he was still just as greedy as ever. Gripping your chin a bit tighter, he brought his face right up to your neck and softly nipped at the skin on your jaw, tongue laving over the skin to sooth it.

“Kiyoomi”

“That’s my girl. Now, how should I make it up to you, hm?” His hands gripped your thighs just above your knees, squeezing into the flesh.

The tone of his voice switched, dripping with honey and saturating your mind with memories of twisted sheets and bated breaths.

“I think I know just where to start” Shit, that voice. You were sure it would be the death of you one day, but right now, it was your lifeline.

One of his thumbs hooked under the hem of your dress, baring one thigh ever so slowly, as his other hand guided your fingers into his hair. His gaze held yours as he began to kiss and bite a trail upwards following the exposed skin.

If there was one thing your romance readers raved about, it was the smut that some of your books contained. But you could hardly claim any credit when your inspiration for those scenes came from Kiyoomi. The Kiyoomi who loved seeing you flustered and blushing beneath him, hand around your throat and embarrassment crawling up your cheeks. Loved seeing tears of overstimulation roll down so he could lick them away. That was this Kiyoomi, the one that knelt before you now.

A hard bite on the inside of your thigh brought you back down to earth, a yelp of surprise escaping as your eyes snapped open.

“Be a good girl and keep your eyes on me.” You nodded as you tried to catch your breath, small bits of air coming out in light pants.

Pushing your dress all the way around your waist, Kiyoomi gripped your ass roughly with both hands and tugged your body to the edge of your seat, legs thrown over his broad shoulders. His eyes closed as he turned to bury his face into the thickness of one of your thighs, fingers dipping into the waistline of your panties. He watched completely enamored as he pulled them off your body, the evident wet spot sticking to the source of your arousal.

In one quick movement, he sat back on his heels and rid you of your panties entirely before settling back in on his knees. Two thick fingers swiped at your slit, gathering the stickiness there and bringing it to your mouth.

“Open.” You did as he asked without hesitation, and you could taste the saltiness on the pads of his fingers as he pressed down on your tongue. But you knew better than to wrap your lips around his fingers- knew to wait for instruction. His smirk returned in full as he realized you hadn’t forgotten his rules.

“Suck.”

His grip around your thigh tightened as you obeyed. Taking his fingers from your mouth, he pressed them back at your entrance, teasing you up and down as he finally, finally, brought his mouth to your clit. His tongue circled the nerves as he watched your eyes roll back, your mouth open just slightly.

Now Kiyoomi was never a religious man, but he would’ve prayed to any god to never forget this sight. Legs open for him, pretty face silently begging him to touch you. He wanted it permanently imprinted in his memory, wanted it to be the only thing he saw every time he closed his eyes. His control snapped.

Fingers plunged forward into you and Kiyoomi was lost in your tight heat as he set a quick pace, teeth tugging lightly on your clit before circling it with his tongue over and over again. He still knew your body so well even after so much time had passed, and he knew exactly how to drive you over the edge.

“O-omi”

“Hm?” He refused to pull his face away from your sweet pussy, humming against you in response, sending light vibrations that tickled up your spine.

“G-gonna cum Omi” His fingers curled upward and hit that spongy spot, as he pulled his mouth away for just a moment to respond. He pressed a thick forearm down across your hips, not letting you escape.

“Go on baby, cum in my mouth. Wanna taste you”

Kiyoomi shoved his tongue inside you, nose buried right up against that sensitive bundle of nerves as he reached up to fill your mouth with the fingers that had previously been fucking in and out of you. His other fingers gripped your jaw roughly as he pressed down on your tongue, sliding them further and further back into your wet mouth. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, doing your best to take what he gave you without gagging.

The release that spread over you had you crying out around his fingers, legs shuddering on his shoulders as his forearm held you in place, never pulling his tongue from you until he was satisfied he had tasted every drop.

But he only allowed you a moment to catch your breath.

Kiyoomi tugged your whole body straight off the chair, pulling your thighs to sit over his where he knelt. He secured his arms around you and slotted his mouth against your lips, tongue slipping against yours to let you taste yourself on him. Crushing you against his chest, he let out a low groan and let a large palm tangle into your hair, tugging it slightly.

“Always been Omi’s favorite girl, you know that? Missed you so much sweetheart. Promise I won’t leave you again. Ever. And I’m so sorry I upset you my love”

And as he pressed his forehead against yours, you realized the signature on his note had always been true, more so than you realized.

“Always Yours, Kiyoomi”

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littlefreya · 2 years

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Danse Macabre

Summary: She cannot tell who she is anymore, nor where she is. All that she knows is that Sherlock is not the man he pretends to be and that every night he comes to her bedroom to feast on the delights of her body...

Pairing: Vampire!Sherlock Holmes x Virgin OFC (no mentions of body type or ethnicity)

Word count: 2.2K

Warnings: 18+, Dark, horror, dubious consent, sex, supernatural themes, I guess we can say monster sex? Mentions of blood, hinted Stockholm Syndrome, loss of virginity, metaphors, obsession, hinted hypnosis, bites, vampire sex, mind manipulation.

A/N: I don't own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes. Many thanks to my angels: @agniavateira for beta'ing my work and supporting me, and to @notabronte for giving me feedback and encouraging me to post. Please reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed it. 🖤

Danse Macabre 🕯️

How long has it been; a month? A year? An eternity?

Time swayed differently in Mister Holmes’ mansion — if it moved at all.

The nights seemed endless, and the days… she couldn’t remember the last time she was awake during daytime. Perhaps this was a nightmare, or maybe it was the cold tentacles of death that pulled her into an abyss; but then, if the dead couldn’t feel pain then why did his kisses hurt?

It was in the bawls of midnight when Sherlock stalked into her bedroom— his jaw stern, cheekbones sharp and strikingly distinguished by the flame of a single candle held in his hand. Hunger filled his careless face, and his eyes flickered brightly like glowing orbs of ice.

Unable to scream or move, she watched him behind the ghostly veils of her bed. Hot wax dribbled down his fingers—little white tears of sorrow that she wished she herself could cry, but Sherlock had not only drained her of such force but by some enchantment, coaxed her to submit to his sacrilegious desire

“Undress,” he demanded from the doorway where he stood, shrouded by the crimson haze of the poorly lit corridor. Whatever was behind him, she could never see, the width of his bulky figure blocked the path like a monster from a children’s tale.

‘Monsters are real, Momma. They look like men in tailored vests and shiny leather shoes.’

Her fingers trembled, hands stiff and heavy. Yet she did what she was told without question, allowing the straps of her nightdress to fall down her shoulders the way a dying leaf falls from a branch.

Eyes a shade colder than ice, his glare fell to her breasts, and his chest puffed with a rumbling growl. Slowly he stalked forward, treading like a spider on its web. The tips of his fingers turned black as if dipped in poison whilst his nails grew long and sharp at every step.

“The duvet. Set it aside.”

His voice was the rumble of an inching thunder, an echo inside her head that made her bones rattle. Whenever he spoke, it felt as if invisible strings wrapped around her wrists and persuaded her limbs to do as he commanded. Even when her soul begged her to give a sliver of resistance, her hands still lifted to obey this dark ventriloquist and pushed the blanket away.

The stem of Sherlock’s throat clenched at the delicious splendour: bare, youthful skin, so tight and so supple. A thing that should have never been touched, should have never been spoiled and yet he yearned for nothing but to leave his marks at the depth of her soul.

The scent that emanated from the flesh between her thighs elicited a guttural groan from his chapped lips. In his throat pulled the ghastly hunger. Setting the candle on the wardrobe, he stalked toward the bed, his shadow metastasizing and devouring every shred of light that dared enter the chamber.

Both the mattress and her heart sank once he placed a knee on the bed and began to crawl between her parted legs, slowly and predatorily, dragging himself closer to her heat. Black, sharpened nails graze their way up her inner thighs, admiring the pureness of the forever-young flesh.

Encased in a glass coffin, his young ward would forever be protected from famine, disease, and time; and what was Sherlock if not a warden fulfilling his duty?

‘A monster! God, please! There is a monster in my bed!’

If only she could scream, if only God hadn’t abandoned her. Instead, all she could do was shiver, her heart giving no sound as Sherlock forced himself between her thighs. One razor-sharp fingernail traced the plumpness of her breast, tenderly circling and caressing the nipple.

“Mine,” he growled and slipped his nail down the valley of her torso, casually tugging the remains of her gown to expose her pure mound. Red glinted on those piercing shards that replaced his eyes—red like a flicker of fire from a match. “Look at me,” he demanded, though there was no need for him to ask.

That same gaze that possessed her had sliced through the tendrils of her mind.

Nodding, she lifted her gaze to meet his, her lips parting in a quiet plea as the ghastly, pointed talon made careful strokes amidst the swollen petals to collect the honeyed dew that gathered at the seams of her untouched cunt.

“My poor little dove, it’s so lonely in there…” he keened, attempting to slide his long monstrous finger inside of her. But her maidenhood, still obstinate to protect her from the vile urges of men, forbade him access.

Foolish.

What strength did her flesh have against such a sinister entity if even iron locks and carved religious figures couldn’t keep him away? Huffing with scorn, he drew an icy fingertip around the outlines of her slit, further spreading the sinful wetness across the seams of her cunt.

She mewled, despite herself, her waist moving in a smooth tidal sway.

Sherlock could never tire of this, not of the terror in her eyes whenever she saw him at her bedroom door nor the moans she emitted as he traced her engorged flesh with a finger or his tongue. But what he favoured above all was the sensation of his cock as it tore through her seal and those heavenly pained cries that eventually turned into the moans of a whore.

What a great fortune it was that they had an eternity of this dance.

Hovering above his prey, he propped his knees between her legs, the fabric of his trousers brushing against her inner thighs as he lowered his weight upon her. If there was any air in her lungs, she would have let out a shuddering breath; but what came instead was a silent gasp, and only her lips quivered as she prepared herself for the familiar twinge of his invasion.

Reaching for his groin, he freed his hardened cock and stroked a hand across its length before nudging the heart-shaped crown at the gates of her purity. Not yet pushing in, he teased himself up and down her narrow slit, treating her the way a lover treats his delicate mistress— the way a cat toys with a mouse.

Lips swollen and tingling, she whimpered, her yet-empty hole twitching as if heeding a primal call. How could she fear and need him at the same time? Did she loathe herself so much that she wanted him to defile her? Tears began to rim her eyes, and from quivering lips, she whispered, “please…”

Letting out a low rumbling chuckle, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead before whispering in her ear, “You, my ward, are such a mystery…”

Her mouth opened to speak but a scream followed instead. One unceremonious thrust and he sunk into her lush depth, his girthy cock devouring the sweetness of virginal flesh. Indifferent to her pain, he pushed further and deeper past her folds until every inch of him was buried within.

Cries and squeals sputtered from her mouth—the monster had tore her innocence, the pain had seared, and in pathetic pleas for mercy, she slapped against his bare chest and tried to shove him away. But Sherlock knew no mercy, for truly he was a beast, not just by the breadth of his shoulders and untypically muscular figure, but by his blunt absence of elegance and heartless mien. Giving her no moment to adjust, he had already began to pump himself inside of her now-defiled cunt.

Such a mask of virtue did her warden wear; to the world, a perfect, eloquent gentleman. But behind closed doors, lurked a sick, sinister man who only wished to desecrate this tender maiden in this dark sacrament.

Over and over, he pulled away only to plunge into her again, each thrust harder than the last, each thrust ending with the slap of his sack against her cunt. And the moans that came from him - had the most debauched resonance, as if she was a long anticipated feast to a voracious man.

Unable to meet his vigour, her walls whined a protest and squeezed around him in a futile battle to drive him out; yet for Sherlock, this tightness was nothing less than an aphrodisiac. If any, her insubordination did nothing but provoke the ungodly creature within him. Reaching a clawed hand to her chin, his fingers pressed into the hollow of her cheeks, forcing her to stare directly into his bright-red eyes as he began to fuck her in a punishing pace.

“I am already inside you, little dove. There is nothing that can be done,” he rasped while his hips continuously snapped into hers, every second rut bringing her closer to surrender as friction drew that which she so religiously wanted to resist.

“Give in to me, and I will give you pleasure like no other.”

His words were but a spell. Briefly, unbidden, a spark inside her womb ignited, giving life to ecstatic flames that cascaded through her canal. While a part of her wanted to stay pure and deny this vicious man, an unbearable ache for his return struck her every time he pulled out from her slit. In mindless despair to hold him close, she had finally caved in and wrapped her legs around his waist to hold him near.

Triumphant grunts rumbled in his throat. Appeased by her surrender to his whims, he lifted his upper torso, his taut abs flexing as he rose to hover above her. With his hand still around her jaw, he pressed her deeper into the mattress while pummeling her cunt.

“Make us whole…” he begged, his voice a husky—almost pitiful—groan.

“Make us whole again.”

Depraved as an animal, he ravaged her with the selfish degenerate intent of a man yearning to impregnate his mate. Though this union could result in nothing of that sort, still she thrashed against him in an archaic frenzy, her screams unfurling into the night as her body became enslaved to the same foolish wanton. Soon her trenches began to tighten around him in demand of his seed, and the whispering embers that smouldered in her womb had suddenly imploded into a wave of molten fire that scorched through her completely.

It was in that moment when her cunt devoured him completely, when he felt her heat gush and hug around his shaft so longingly that his eyes glowed bright red, and his fangs flashed sharply before her dazed eyes. Even though she had seen this play out numerous, endless times, she couldn’t help but gasp as he lowered his mouth to her neck and drank her pleasure-tainted blood.

Eyes staring into the ceiling with shock, she trembled like a thing that was about to be shattered. The waves of her ecstasy ebbed away as Sherlock stole from whatever maw of force she had left. Black mists began to waft around her, blurring her sight and pulling her down below. And suddenly, she was limp and heavy at the same time while a cold, strange tingle jittered through her veins.

‘Death…’ she smiled with her eyes half-shut, ‘Oh, finally… Release me!’

Just then, a secondary implosion spasmed through her core and caused her entire body to jitter with delight as the sensation elicited from his bite was an unlikely aphrodisiac. Mouth agape in a silent cry, she threw her head back and stared through the open window while the monster inside her continued to feast on her throat.

The moon—it was covered in blood, painting the room in a crimson shade.

Lost in this trance, Sherlock hummed; the blood of a newly deflowered virgin was sweeter than ambrosia; after decades and aeons of searching, he could sense the wind on his skin, feel the thrum in his veins and abruptly… in a moment passing, he felt a rumble in his chest as his heart pumped once again.

‘Make us whole.’

‘Make me whole.’

‘Make me feel alive again.’

Losing his control entirely, he thrusted into her with a few last powerful strokes and then finally lifted his head with a savage-like shout while his thick elixir overflowed her womb. Cum seeped around his cock at the same manner of the blood that trickled down his square chin.

He licked the corner of his lip, eyes red and sated, peering down at his prey.

“Oh, my sweet little flower,” he murmured and carefully lowered his head to kiss her. She returned the kiss, uncertain if by choice, little did she care now. Her body still tingled and the taste of her own blood had an odd sweetness to it that had made her thirsty. Once he broke from her lips, she suckled them dry.

Like petals plucked from a rose, she laid raw beneath him. Not dead. Not yet. Not ever. She no longer remembered her life before him, no longer remembered who she was. All she knew was that when she would wake the next day, it would be night again.

And he would return to claim her, again.

His fellow companions warned him of such abomination; it was dangerous to drink from his own kind, or so they claimed. It poisoned the mind and the body according to the myths, but whether it was true or not, Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to care.

No matter the fashion, he came every night, drank from her veins, deflowered her and left.

And every night, she woke up a virgin again, clueless as to who and what she was.

But Sherlock knew the one and only true answer.

She was his.

For all eternity.

#henry cavill #enola holmes #enola holmes 2 #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill x reader #sherlock holmes x ofc #henry cavill fanfiction

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motomamita · 2 years

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Blood, Sweat and Ice.

Part. 2

Pairing: Dark!Eddie Munson x Female!IceSkater!Reader

Summary: Before finishing her off, eddie is determined to fuck her one way or another, even if he has to fake his identity to get it done.

Warnings: smut, +18, false identity, unprotected sex, creampie, mask sex, mentions of drugs, alchohol and blood, violence, idk sis.

A/N: Somewhat inspired by the Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan scandal. Ofc, this is more dark.

Do not translate or copy this!

With a joint dangling from his fingers and several litres of alcohol inside of him, Eddie Munson thought his afternoon was going to end the same as all the previous ones: with him sleeping on the bathroom floor, a puddle of vomit around him and his album favorite playing all the way in the background. However, Nancy Wheeler knocked on his door with a favor she needed from him.

"I just need it to be a scare, like an warning that makes her miss the competition this Saturday." The girl clasped her hands in front of her chest, as if she were praying. "Please, Eddie! I'll pay you a good dough!"

Nancy Wheeler has been ice skating since she was 8 years old. She was good, she tried hard and, just like in school, she was diligent. However, that was not enough to guarantee a place in the competition that would take place that weekend. It wasn't if she had to compete against that girl.

"What do you mean 'a little warning'?" Eddie leaned against the old refrigerator and took a drag on his joint before speaking again. "Do you want me to send her a threatening email? To bug the wheels on her bike? To shit on her doorstep and leave a sign saying 'don't you dare enter the competition, bitch'?"

"Yeah, it could be something like that. As long as it ensures it doesn't steal my first place, it's fine." The calmer Wheeler spoke "Please, Eddie. I know you've done worse in the past, Mike told me about it."

And yes, he had.

Alcohol and drug abuse, along with the fact that he dropped out of high school, had given Eddie a need for constant adrenaline. That adrenaline was obtained by carrying out unlawful and unethical acts. He first started stealing cars that were staying late in the Starmall parking lot. When he didn't get something of value, he had fun breaking the windows and scratching the doors. Then he went on to steal inside houses and spend hours hiding inside them even with their owners going about their daily lives. That unleashed in Eddie the interest to watch people closely without them knowing it. It was amazing how much one could find out about a person just by following him for a couple of hours in his day.

Last but not least illegal were street fights. Eddie had become addicted to them. When he felt boredom eat him up, he'd grab his truck, a couple of beers, and wait outside the town's strip club for some old or young man who wanted to fight him. As the weeks passed, Eddie stopped having opponents and that led him to look for other ways to have fun. He waited for his, now, victims in some dark alley and silently pounced on them. In a matter of minutes he left them almost dying in a pool of blood until some citizen found them the next day. Sometimes he used a weapon like a baseball bat or a heavy wrench that was used to repair his truck, other times he only used his hands.

Soon those acts alerted the entire town to the existence of an individual who beat his victims almost to death. Nobody knew who it was, just a few people, like Mike Wheeler. For that very reason, he wasn't surprised when Nancy visited him days ago in his trailer with a tempting offer, and not just for the money.

As he drove downtown to the ice skating rink that Thursday, Eddie Munson thought about his next victim. He knew quite a bit about her, all kinds of information he could get in a whole day of following her around. He knew her hours, where she lived, who she was dating and her weaknesses that would serve him for his 'mission'.

She was the only child of a middle-class family. Her parents moved to Hawkins when the little girl was 6 years old and continued to live there, with no plans to leave. Her parents both work at the mayor's office in not so high positions but enough to be able to travel every summer to Houston, where she was from. She had practiced ice skating since she was 4 in almost professional rinks, which favored her compared to her other opponents in Hawkins who had to settle for their most basic rinks. She was an excellent skater by nature, Eddie could see as he watched her skate from a dark corner of the place.

From the way her coach gave her instructions, he assumed that this routine full of jumps and somersaults was the one she was going to present on Saturday in front of the judges. Nancy Wheeler definitely had no chance against her.

He stayed until she was the last to leave the track. By that time, the other girls had already left several minutes ago, leaving his target alone for a few minutes on the track.

Walking out, Eddie caught a keen eye of the conversation she and her coach were having as she walked to the locker room. She planned to stay the next day, Friday, a few more minutes on the track to prepare as much as possible for the big day. Her coach, a woman with curly hair and brown skin, agreed with her decision but informed her that she would train alone because she had paperwork to do. They talked a bit about topics not very relevant to him and then they said goodbye. Eddie a few meters behind the coach and prepared to smoke in one of the seats outside the place while he saw how the woman got into her car and headed home.

After 25 minutes counted by the clock, she left the place with her wet hair and her heavy bag. The instant she stepped into the parking lot, a blue Camaro pulled out of the parking lot and came up to where she was standing. Billy Hargrove. Eddie laughed bitterly. She and Billy had been dating for a few months. It was not known if they were already a couple but evidently something was going on between them and it was very intense. They were like 'Beauty and the Beast'. She was a flower, so delicate and fragile, while Billy was anything close to a boundless animal.

Billy grabbed her bag and put it in the trunk and then opened the passenger door for her, like a real gentleman. The couple avoided all physical contact until they reached the lovers' lake, where the show for Eddie began several meters away.

As the temperature rose in the blue Camaro, so did Eddie's truck, who was not only seized by fever but also by jealousy. It had been weeks since he had been with a woman intimately, and years since he had fallen in love with one. Of the girls he had met in high school none had managed to capture his attention, not even Chrissy Cunningham who on more than one occasion had tried to reach more with him. Getting so involved in that skater's life had awakened such a strong desire within him, something he had never experienced before. He wanted to feel her the way Hargrove was doing right now. The memory that he had to hurt her at some point crossed his mind and it made him a little sad. However, his own body called his attention to the growing problem forming in his pants and he had to take charge.

...

That Friday he arrived at the track around sunset and stayed in his truck for a couple of minutes. Soon, the same people who had been yesterday were now leaving the place with their bags in the direction of their cars. He waited a few minutes before getting out of his truck and stealthily entering the area. Luckily for him, despite wearing long hair and unusual clothes, Eddie had always managed to go unnoticed everywhere. That served as an advantage in situations like this.

From a distance he saw her on the track, alone and without the slightest idea that he had been watching her for minutes. She was wearing a light green sweater and black leggings that accentuated her figure. Her white skates kicked up the ice with every hop and turn she took. Eddie smiled seeing her so focused on her routine, as if that were the only important thing in the world.

He walked to one of the vending machines when he noticed how she left the track and collected her things with the intention of going to the locker room. Eddie lowered his gaze and counted 3 times the few coins that lay in the palm of his hand, acting disinterested when she passed behind him and was lost among the aisles. He put two coins in the machine and took out a Dr. Pepper which he drank carefully as he looked around. He was practically alone in the place, him and her. The manager who closed the track was now up on the machine that cleaned the track and which in turn made an annoying and loud noise. It was perfect to carry out his mission. No one was going to hear her scream.

Eddie tossed the can into a nearby trash can and walked purposefully toward the women's locker room. The sound of water falling from the shower led him through the wide space to the area where she was. Eddie stood in the middle of the hallway, motionless until the sound of the water stopped completely. Delicately, he took out a ski mask that he kept in one of the pockets of his jacket and put it on, hiding his characteristic long hair and revealing only his lips and eyes.

She wrapped herself in her towel and got out of the shower. A scream escaped her throat at seeing him there, standing with his face covered and staring at her. The shock lasted a few seconds, seconds in which she hugged her towel even more and looked around in search of something or someone that would help her. Eddie remained silent, forcing her to speak for the first time.

"What... what do you want?" She asked, not quite sure that he would answer her. "Please don't do anything to me." She whispered taking a few small steps back and walking to her clothes on a bench.

Eddie didn't answer and watched her movements carefully in case she tried to run away, although he was going to catch her anyway before she went out the door.

"Aren't you going to answer me?" Unanswered. "Who you are?" Unanswered. "Billy?"

Bingo. She had fallen into his trap.

"Billy, this is not funny. Stop right now." She asked a little less upset but still with her agitated voice.

Eddie had discovered more about the couple than he would have imagined. He knew that her parents didn't want Billy and that's why they saw each other in the lake of lovers after each practice. She knew that Billy was annoyed when she drenched the seats of his Camaro with her wet hair and that's why he placed a towel on the seatback before looking for her. As he also knew how much she liked him to fuck her with a ski mask he had under the seat of his car.

The place wasn't fully lit and Eddie had taken it upon himself to dress in the most similar way to Billy's. So he could easily fool her.

"Didn't you hear me? Wait for me in the parking lot." She removed the towel from her, exposing her body.

Eddie swallowed hard and carefully admired the body of the naked girl in front of him. Now the distance between them was shorter and that made it possible for him to memorize every curve of her body. Soon his member woke up and he knew he had to act fast before someone discovered them.

He approached and hugged her from behind, placing his hands on her stomach, caressing her wet skin. He brought his nose to her hair and discreetly sniffed at her hair and the sweet shampoo she had used minutes before.

"Billy, stop!" She spoke now laughing when Eddie's hands tightened on her hips, digging his fingertips into her skin. "Do you really want to do this now? Here?" she asked as she felt his hard erection against her bare ass.

She turned to look at him, not closing her distance. Eddie nodded and prayed to all the saints that she wouldn't notice the chocolate color of his eyes, very different from Billy's blue. The girl let out a loud sigh and looked at the clock hanging on one of the walls.

"Okay, we have some time."

Eddie didn't wait any longer and pushed her slightly against the wall causing her to let out a moan almost in surprise at the abrupt movement. He knelt in front of her and brought one of her legs up to his shoulder, leaving her pussy available to him. Without thinking twice, he brought his mouth to her clitoris, sucking lightly on it and then massaging it with his tongue. She moaned loudly and then covered her mouth with her hand, she didn't want them to be found out. With his hands he massaged her thighs, supporting her from the way her legs trembled.

"Shit, Billy..."

Gradually, his ski mask began to soak with her fluids, impregnating her sweet taste and aroma into the fabric. Eddie went from the clit to her entry which was already fully weat. He licked her with his tongue, collecting all the fluid and bringing another wave of pleasure to the girl.

He glanced at the clock and knew he had to hurry. As much as he would have loved to continue savoring her, he wanted to feel her even more. He quickly got up from the ground and she had to grab the wall to keep from falling from how weak her legs were. She tried to kiss him but Eddie dodged her, avoiding any contact that would give him away.

"Baby, let me feel you..." she begged with her breath coming fast.

Hearing her, Eddie whispered a 'shit' only audible to him, he was too hot. He approached her again, grabbed her by the thighs and supported her again against the cold wall. For her part, she began to unbutton his pants and lowered the same along with his boxers, releasing his hard cock. Eddie rushed into her before she realized it wasn't Billy. She moaned again when Eddie's member mercilessly entered her and began to move at an accelerated pace. The girl tried to kiss him again but this time Eddie had to place one of his hands on her cheek, moving her head to the side and avoiding as much eye contact as possible.

Eddie's gaze was now fixed on the way her breasts bounced with each thrust, inviting him to taste them, which he did.

"Mmh, so good.." Eddie's wet tongue tasted first her left nipple and then moved to her right, continuing to move inside her.

The sound of their skins colliding and her moans were enough to drive Eddie to the extreme, who had been dreaming of that moment for days. He would have liked to have given her more pleasure, massaging her clits and whispering dirty words to her but it was not the moment. The only thing that was going through his mind was the need to come, even though he knew that he would have to break her legs later.

Eddie did his best not to make a sound but to no avail, the walls of her were sucking him so deliciously that when he came inside her, her name slipped from his mouth.

It took him a few seconds to understand what had happened and how much he had screwed up, all to fulfill his sexual desire. Eddie came inside her and released her without any finesse, letting her fall on the locker room floor. He pulled up his pants and adjusted his ski mask that had moved slightly from all the action. When he lowered his gaze, he met hers, she was scared.

"Who you are?" She whispered on the verge of tears, covering her body with her towel and feeling how the hot semen of that stranger came out of her.

Again Eddie didn't answer and stared at her. So fragile, so defenseless, so corrupted. He smiled slightly as he imagined Hargrove's face when he found out that a son of a bitch had ended up inside his girlfriend, and in the amount of money that Nancy would give him tomorrow after the championship.

She tried to get up from the ground but Eddie stepped on her hard on one of her ankles. The girl screamed that went unnoticed by the manager who was still cleaning the skating rink. Eddie provided more pressure on her, who was trying to get his foot off of her unsuccessfully. He was much stronger than her, it was clear. Eddie looked around for something that would hurt the girl even more, and he found it.

Eddie slipped his foot off her ankle and walked over to where her skating shoes were. The girl tried to stand up and escape but she couldn't, her ankle was already beginning to swell. Eddie grabbed one of the shoes and removed the safety band that covered the sharp metal blade.

She whimpered when she saw how he approached her with her shoe in hand, she knew what was going to happen to her. She had no escape, she was finished.

Eddie gripped the shoe tightly and landed the first blow on one of her legs, cutting her both clean and deep. He repeated his action several times with both legs, making sure not only to make her unable to walk for a long time, but also to leave marks for a lifetime.

When he was satisfied, eddie left the place with a smile and the sweet scent of her on his face.

#eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #joseph quinn #eddie munson smut #dark!eddie munson

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addamvelaryon · 1 year

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DEAD THINGS IN THE WOODS. DEAD THINGS IN THE WATER.

I was once again thinking about how Patchface has a tendency to say some rather odd things, and if you view the phrase "under the sea" as an indication of death/afterlife, the things he says take on a more sinister connotation:

Patchface rang his bells. “It is always summer under the sea,” he intoned. “The merwives wear nennymoans in their hair and weave gowns of silver seaweed. I know, I know, oh, oh, oh.”

— A Clash of Kings, Prologue

Patchface was capering about as the maester made his slow way around the table to Davos Seaworth. “Here we eat fish,” the fool declared happily, waving a cod about like a scepter. “Under the sea, the fish eat us. I know, I know, oh, oh, oh.”

— A Clash of Kings, Prologue

“Under the sea the old fish eat the young fish,” the fool muttered at Davos. He bobbed his head, and his bells clanged and chimed and sang. “I know, I know, oh oh oh.”

— A Storm of Swords, Davos V

They found Her Grace sewing by the fire, whilst her fool danced about to music only he could hear, the cowbells on his antlers clanging. “The crow, the crow,” Patchface cried when he saw Jon. “Under the sea the crows are white as snow, I know, I know, oh, oh, oh.”

— A Dance With Dragons, Jon XI

Patchface jumped up. “I will lead it!” His bells rang merrily. “We will march into the sea and out again. Under the waves we will ride seahorses, and mermaids will blow seashells to announce our coming, oh, oh, oh.”

— A Dance With Dragons, Jon XIII

“Under the sea, men marry fishes.” Patchface did a little dance step, jingling his bells. “They do, they do, they do.”

— A Dance With Dragons, Jon XIII

Patchface drowned but survived under mysterious circumstances:

The boy washed up on the third day. Maester Cressen had come down with the rest, to help put names to the dead. When they found the fool he was naked, his skin white and wrinkled and powdered with wet sand. Cressen had thought him another corpse, but when Jommy grabbed his ankles to drag him off to the burial wagon, the boy coughed water and sat up. To his dying day, Jommy had sworn that Patchface’s flesh was clammy cold.

No one ever explained those two days the fool had been lost in the sea. The fisherfolk liked to say a mermaid had taught him to breathe water in return for his seed.

— A Clash of Kings, Prologue

The previous passage almost seems to echo the following:

He had been the thirteenth man to lead the Night’s Watch, she said; a warrior who knew no fear. “And that was the fault in him,” she would add, “for all men must know fear.” A woman was his downfall; a woman glimpsed from atop the Wall, with skin as white as the moon and eyes like blue stars. Fearing nothing, he chased her and caught her and loved her, though her skin was cold as ice, and when he gave his seed to her he gave his soul as well.

— A Storm of Swords, Bran IV

That's not the only connection that exists between the merlings and the white walkers:

Mormont was deaf to the edge in his voice. “The fisherfolk near Eastwatch have glimpsed white walkers on the shore.”

This time Tyrion could not hold his tongue. “The fisherfolk of Lannisport often glimpse merlings.”

— A Game of Thrones, Tyrion III

Which of course reminds me of Cotter Pyke's ominous letter to Jon Snow:

At Hardhome, with six ships. Wild seas. Blackbird lost with all hands, two Lyseni ships driven aground on Skane, Talon taking water. Very bad here. Wildlings eating their own dead. Dead things in the woods. Braavosi captains will only take women, children on their ships. Witch women call us slavers. Attempt to take Storm Crow defeated, six crew dead, many wildlings. Eight ravens left. Dead things in the water. Send help by land, seas wracked by storms. From Talon, by hand of Maester Harmune.

Cotter Pyke had made his angry mark below.

“Is it grievous, my lord?” asked Clydas.

“Grievous enough.” Dead things in the wood. Dead things in the water. Six ships left, of the eleven that set sail. Jon Snow rolled up the parchment, frowning. Night falls, he thought, and now my war begins.

— A Dance With Dragons, Jon XI

Dead things in the woods. Dead things in the water. Here's the description of the white walkers and the merlings:

Will saw movement from the corner of his eye. Pale shapes gliding through the wood. He turned his head, glimpsed a white shadow in the darkness. Then it was gone. Branches stirred gently in the wind, scratching at one another with wooden fingers. Will opened his mouth to call down a warning, and the words seemed to freeze in his throat.

[...]

A shadow emerged from the dark of the wood. It stood in front of Royce. Tall, it was, and gaunt and hard as old bones, with flesh pale as milk. Its armor seemed to change color as it moved; here it was white as new-fallen snow, there black as shadow, everywhere dappled with the deep grey-green of the trees. The patterns ran like moonlight on water with every step it took.

— A Game of Thrones, Prologue

They tell of pale blue mists that move across the waters, mists so cold that any ship they pass over is frozen instantly; of drowned spirits who rise at night to drag the living down into the grey-green depths; of mermaids pale of flesh with black-scaled tails, far more malign than their sisters of the south.

— The World of Ice and Fire, The Shivering Sea

Pale and black and grey-green. All frozen.

There is also this similarity of both being said to lay with human women to sire terrible offsprings:

He remembered the hearth tales Old Nan told them. The wildlings were cruel men, she said, slavers and slayers and thieves. They consorted with giants and ghouls, stole girl children in the dead of night, and drank blood from polished horns. And their women lay with the Others in the Long Night to sire terrible half-human children.

— A Game of Thrones, Bran I

An even more fanciful possibility was put forth a century ago by Maester Theron. Born a bastard on the Iron Islands, Theron noted a certain likeness between the black stone of the ancient fortress and that of the Seastone Chair, the high seat of House Greyjoy of Pyke, whose origins are similarly ancient and mysterious. Theron’s rather inchoate manuscript Strange Stone postulates that both fortress and seat might be the work of a queer, misshapen race of half men sired by creatures of the salt seas upon human women. These Deep Ones, as he names them, are the seed from which our legends of merlings have grown, he argues, whilst their terrible fathers are the truth behind the Drowned God of the ironborn.

— The World of Ice and Fire, The Reach

We know the dragons are contrasted against the white walkers, but perhaps the merlings are too:

The big man looked out toward the terrace. “I knew it would rain,” he said in a gloomy tone. “My bones were aching last night. They always ache before it rains. The dragons won’t like this. Fire and water don’t mix, and that’s a fact.”

— A Dance With Dragons, The Dragontamer

Although no one can say for certain exactly what kind of creatures Euron (who, while not exactly THE NIGHT KING, is still very Night King coded) plans on summoning from the sea, but perhaps the merlings are part of his plan.

#valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #dragons #merlings #white walkers #the others #patchface #euron greyjoy #meta #asoiaf meta #text #I would say I'm back on my bullshit but I never did leave it #though this time I'm writing out my thoughts on this a bit more comprehensively #honestly if the merlings are the white walkers of the sea it would confirm quite a few theories of mine #also grrm is a genius but we all knew that #can't believe this idea came to me because I was originally thinking about 2 very unrelated (but actually still very related 🤭) characters

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hallucinateonpaperspines · 26 days

Note

Currently going insane over ‘of timelines and trolleys’ again!!!!

Could we possibly get a spoiler or sneak peak for the next chapter? 👀

(Feel free to say no ofc!! Just thought I’d ask because the implications of ratchets mental state for the next arc is making me insane,, can’t stop thinking about that sad depressed old man and his kidnapped baby charge)

Aww, thank you!

*looks around, and pulls out a piece of paper from my trench coat*

this is between me and you, ya hear? shhhhhhhhhh, just a lil somethin small... don't go blabbing now kay?

SPOILER WARNING, because I am weak for compliments

Some of the worst things happened on ordinary days. Jack had started to forget that.

Maybe part of it was having his ordinary become so utterly extraordinary. For the horrible and the terrible to constantly be lurking nearby, seconds, a footsep, a choice behind the moments that made up his day. Ordinary was what they made of the terrible truths that blasted around them.

Sometimes Jack thought he was the only human that realized that. Miko who sought out the horror like an adrenaline junky, Raf that was absorbed by the the newness of this reality, Ashlyn who seemed to thrive off the chaos. Even Agent Fowler seemed in denial. As if the world they all knew kept spinning and hadn’t been completely remade the moment aliens step foot in its dirt.

Sometimes Jack felt like the only one who saw the change, the flip between normal and not. Sometimes he forgot and the world sought out to remind him.

Jackson Darby had been having an okay day. It wasn’t particularly terrible, Vince had thankfully been keeping his distance ever since the racing fiasco, the only times they talked was when he asked if his “cousin” was in town. The relief on the red-head’s face was was both concerning and exhilarating to behold.

Ashlyn, what did you do to him?

Sierra talked to him during third period, leaning against her locker and twining hair between her fingers as she asked when the next history test was due and what he’s chosen for his art project.

It all seemed so dull now. Pointless, when people where dying and a war was being fought for their planet.

But was that any different from the before?

Wars had always been fought. People had always been dying. The world kept on spinnning, the normal staying ordinary and the extraordinary regulated to a far off terrible dream. That didn’t make the truth any less real. Ordinary any less subjective. Why should it matter to him now?

Because people you know are at risk. Because your heart is exposed. Because now their pain is yours.

Jack shrugged his shoulder and rolled his neck, but the tension remind and the bad feeling in his gut stuck around. It had been a normal ordinary day. An okay day. Not bad but it wasn’t brimming with good luck either. It had just been a day. Normal and completely ordinary.

Well, except for Miko carrying around two giant duffles, but that was an exception that he could understand. The girl was resolute in her plan for a sleepover and Jack could not wait to see how Ashlyn would try and get out of it again. He had on good authority from Raf that they had Ratchet’s support.

So, Miko dragged around her supplies and cashed in a few favors. Jack had some Super Clash Combo Nachos that should be ready for pick up from K.O. Burgers later, he’d do a pizza run too, maybe grab some ice cream bars if he was feeling generous and indenial enough to believe Miko’s promise not to run off for the next five missions was true.

He’d probably grab the ice cream anyway.

Still debating, Jack sat in his history class as his teacher ranted on about the Roman’s and their habits. Impressive architecture, murdering emperors, extending trade routes, taking conquered nations as slaves, bring Pax Romana, and the gladditoral arenas. Surprisingly, most of it sounded familiar. He wondered if it was from one of those history rants Ashlyn and Optimus had been having recently.

They seemed to be getting along better. It was weird how they avoided each other, not that OP was the most cuddly bot out there, but… there was something there. Something different. Something awkward.

But what did he know?

A flash of blue caught his periphery, and Jack spotted a familiar motorcycle parked outside.

What was Arcee doing here?

His partner was a stickler for promptness, but she never appeared in the middle of a school day before.

The sinking feeling grew.

His teacher ignored him when he raised his hand. A disgruntled huff and eye-roll was gifted to him with permission to use the restroom after he waved the limb around for a good minute. Jack was out the door before the teacher could change his mind.

It was hard not to run through the building, but he resisted. Walking not to fast but not too slow, smiling to a passerby, Jack made his way to the front doors. Jackson Darby was a good boy, a smart boy. A hard working kid that didn’t skip class or do anything remotely illegal.

His reputation was fraudulent on one claim already, why not ruin his attendance while he was at it?

Arcee’s blue paint was speckled in thin layers of ice, the blue paint unusually shiny as water drip drip dripped down and sizzled on the pavement. The seat was still cold when Jack sat on it, the fake leather smelling of smoke.

“Arcee? Why are you here? I’m at school right now I can’t-”

“J₳₵₭,”

He recognized the language, the sounds, but not from Arcee. He’d never heard his partner speak Cybertronian before. Never heard that bitter tone except for when…

When he first met her… and when they ran into Airachnid. "I’m sorry, Jack… I just- I need, ₣Ɽ₳₲ł₮, I need you to come to the base with me.”

And that's all you're getting right now! But seriously, thank you y'all for reading and being so positive about this story. It means a lot :)

#ao3 author #ao3 #tfp #transformers prime #aligned continuity #of timelines and trolleys #fic update #fic spoilers #sneek peak

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avaritia-apotheosis · 1 year

Text

Phantom Children: Redux | III. Nothing is Bred that is Weaker than Man

A DPxDC crossover // Read on [AO3} or [FFN.net]

← Previous Chapter // MASTERPOST // Next Chapter →

CW: BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF GORE

Three Years Ago…

Danny could not sleep though the chill of the ship invited him to rest his eyes.

No, he could not.

Though the coolness of his room and the layers of blankets cocooned around him would be tempting enough to knock him out for a couple hours on a regular day it was the cold that kept him wide awake

The freezing, numbing, blessed cold that made the back of his left knee ache and any attempt at sleep fitful.

He tossed and turned in his bed. When was the last time he slept, anyway? Was it in the car ride to the docks? The plane? The hotel they stayed at two—three?— days ago?

Danny couldn’t remember. That was… Jazz would say that was a bad thing if she were here.

It was kind of stupid really but—

He curled in tighter on himself, burying his head beneath the blankets.

When he was younger, his parents bought him a stuffed animal; a brown monkey in a space suit. He named it Albert, after the first monkey to ever go to space. Well, go to space and survive. The first monkey to go to space was Albert II but he died coming back to earth because of a parachute complication. Albert VI (also called Yorick, but Danny preferred Albert) was the first monkey to go to space and survive the landing. Anyway, that stuffed monkey used to be his favorite thing in the whole world. He used to drag it everywhere until he accidentally left it in a hotel during summer break when he was nine.

God, he was absolutely inconsolable when that happened. Couldn’t sleep for anything more than a few hours and when he woke he was the most snappish nine-year-old to ever walk on the face of the earth. His parents offered to get him a new one but he didn’t want a new one. He wanted Albert.

But then there was Jazz. Jazz who snuck into his room at night and tucked Bearbert under the blankets next to him.

“Sleep is important if you wanna grow taller,” Jazz said. “I know he can’t replace Albert, but maybe Bearbert can keep the monsters away until we get Albert back.”

The memory warmed his chest for a brief moment.

And then the reality of it all came crashing down again.

Jazz was dead. His parents were dead.

Lost for all eternity like Albert.

And both times were his fault.

If he just looked underneath the blankets or on the side of the hotel bed, he would have realized that Albert wasn’t in his backpack.

If he hadn’t given in to Dan’s taunts, then he would have been fast enough to everyone.

If he never cheated on that fucking test—

God, he just did everything wrong didn’t he?

Good ol’ Danny Fenton, fucking everything up as usual.

Fucker can’t even die right.

◆◆◆

It was sunset when Danny found himself wandering onto the deck of the ship. The sun resembled a red giant as it sank into the sea, less so in size and more so in the intensity of its color. Visceral and raw and blinding , dying the ocean a deep violet-red.

His mania had abated, somewhat. It seemed to fluctuate in intensity. Sometimes the cold felt all-consuming; frost would crawl up the walls of his little cabin, his skin tinged frostbitten-blue, and the cold would seep beneath his flesh and war with the fever that made him delirious to the world around him. Sometimes it manifested as nothing more than an occasional shiver. What made each day different, he didn’t know. But those calm days, those good days, he savored like a bittersweet drink.

Today was one of those good days. He wasn’t feverish, wasn’t nauseous, and his head didn’t hurt like Skulker had elbow-driven him from 500 feet in the air.

Sure, a shiver would occasionally crawl up his spine, and sure there were a couple moments where his powers froze the waves as they crested, but it never lasted long. The shivers would go away and the ice would break as the wave slammed down again.

“Ah, young Danyal.” Dusan stepped up beside him on the railing, the sea breeze catching a few tendrils of his white hair in the wind. “Your mother told me you had been feeling better.”

He gave a noncommittal hum beneath his breath.

There was a wrinkle between Dusan’s brows and instantly, Danny straightened, hands squeezing the railing. “Yes, sir.”

“Hm.” Dusan pulled a sleek black phone from his jacket pocket, unlocking it with a few taps of his thumb. He passed it to Danny. “You will be pleased to note that our ruse has succeeded, and you are now free from the clutches of the law.”

It was an article from the Amity Park Angle. It was short, only a couple paragraphs long, and had his school picture posted beside it.

Daniel James Fenton, 14, passed away tragically last Wednesday.

Ah. His jaw tightened, skin tingling though not from the cold.

This was his obituary.

He returned the phone to Dusan, not wanting to read the rest of it.

How did you do it? He wanted to ask. How did you kill me?

Instead, he gave a strained sort of laugh. “You think I’ve set a record? I’m probably the only one in the world who managed to technically die and remain alive three times.”

The corner of Dusan’s mouth quirked up. “Needs must, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He scratched the back of his neck, eyes drawn to the lull of the darkening waves.

“What is it that occupies your thoughts?”

He pursed his lips, shifting his arms so that they laid crossed on the railing. “I don’t— I just…everything happened so fast.” He dropped his head into his arms, fingers raking through his hair. “A few weeks ago I was, well, not normal , but close enough to it. I had my parents, I had my sister, I had my friends, and the most I had to worry about was the next ghost attack and making sure I remembered to do my homework. And then the explosion happened and everyone died and I became an orphan but it turns out I’m not? Because my real mom found me but I can’t— you guys had to fake my death to get me away!”

Frustration coursed through his veins with the same intensity as the waves slamming against the side of the ship. He leaned back, hands holding the railing in a knuckle-white grip, frost creeping from beneath his fingers. Not that he noticed. Not that he cared.

“I’m dead. I’m dead but I’m not and I’m constantly flipping between being fine and becoming a human popsicle. I’m on a ship in the middle of the ocean and I have no idea where we’re going because people won’t tell me!” The red sun glared hatefully into his eyes. Red red red like Dan’s eyes, like Plasmius’ eyes, and burning so, so bright . He had half a mind to wish that the sun would just extinguish itself so he’d never have to see that color again.

The sun did not extinguish, but Danny’s anger did. Left as quickly as it arrived, leaving him hollow.

He slumped against the railing.

What was he doing unloading all this stuff on Dusan? Dusan didn’t ask for any of that. He didn’t deserve to listen to all of Danny’s baggage. Not when Dusan was already doing so much for him.

He should have kept his mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said quietly. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Dusan laid a warm hand on his shoulder as they both stared at the sun. “Tell me, my boy, have you had the chance to read the Odyssey?”

Danny shook his head. They were supposed to, though. On the first day of school, he remembered Mr. Lancer’s quiet pleasure as he passed out the class syllabi of how they’d be covering the Odyssey in the spring. Poor Mr. Lancer. He was a hardass, sure, and he had his faults, but he genuinely did try with Danny.

“And if some god should strike me,” quoted Dusan “out on the wine-dark sea, I will endure it, owning a heart within inured to suffering. For I have suffered much, and labored much.”

He continued: “Like Odysseus, you have found yourself cast adrift into the world, far away from all that you knew. And like him, you will endure this. You must. For the world is a vast and cruel place, Danyal, and you must either bear against its weight or it will see you crushed and broken beneath it.”

“But what if I can’t?”

“You can,” he stated, resolute and firm like his grip on Danny’s shoulder. “You can endure because your family is here to support you.”

◆◆◆

Danny opened his eyes.

The sky was an endless expanse of swirling gray clouds. The ocean rocked the raft to a punishing rhythm, murky green-gray waters slapping against the rotting planks.

Danny was tied to a makeshift mast, the rope crossing over his abdomen and tied tightly behind his throat, digging into his jugular. He could not speak. Could not breathe .

“Do you remember, Danny?” Sam stood at the head of the raft, her back turned to him. “Do you remember that story I told you about The Raft of the Medusa?”

Eighth grade. A field trip to the Amity Park Museum. Their teacher wanted to show them the new art exhibit since it was only available for a short while. He remembered the painting Sam was talking about; it was hard not to when The Raft of the Medusa seemed to overpower every other painting in the exhibit.

It depicted the aftermath of a ship wreck. A morbidly beautiful painting of a raft lost at sea, its few surviving passengers desperately trying to call for help, their faces gaunt, eyes manic and wild.

“There were originally 147 passengers on that raft. One hundred and forty-seven people and only fifteen survived at the end of it.”

A large wave smashed against the raft. It filled Danny’s nose with salt-water and his mouth of the taste of asphalt. He gasped, coughing out the smoke in his lungs.

Sam was still rooted to her spot, back turned to him.

“Do you remember, Danny? Do you remember who they blamed for the entire disaster?”

The ocean carried the raft up and up and up . High into the air that they rose. He could almost touch the clouds if it weren’t for the ropes digging into his skin.

“They blamed the captain.”

The raft plummeted into the sea. He couldn’t scream, his heart was lodged in his throat.

The raft slammed into the ocean, pieces splintering off upon impact. Thunder roared around them like the clashing of cymbals and the sound of laughter.

Danny strained against his confinement, but the ropes tightened around him, the harsh fibers burning his skin.

He could hear the mast creak. Hear it splinter as it fought against him.

He was almost there. Almost there .

“Look at me Danny.”

Danny opened his eyes—when did he close them?

Sam was in front of him and— oh god.

Oh god.

Her face.

Her flesh was melted, plastered against her blackened bone. Eyes nothing more than empty sockets in her head. Her skeleton hands held his face, forcing him to look. To look at what he had done to her.

“Why didn’t you save us Danny?” She asked. Asked with the voice of six people he had failed, their voices conjoined in some deranged siren song. “Why did you kill us?”

He could see it now. He could see that they weren’t alone on the raft. There, being slowly dragged into the depths, were the burned and waterlogged corpses of his victims.

He screamed, and the sky answered with his own manic laughter.

◆◆◆

Danny opened his eyes and his skin was on fire.

He yelped, tearing off the weights that pinned him down and tumbled onto the floor.

He can’t—

He can’t breathe—

Tucker suffocated to death, chest caved in and choking on air.

Someone was calling his name.

Who was it?

He can’t—

He doesn’t—

Mom?

“Focus on my voice, habibi . I need you to breathe, can you do that for me?”

There’s something warm enveloping his hand.

“Breathe in, Danny, come on. Inhale through your nose for four.”

One. Two. Three. Four.

“Hold for seven.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

“And exhale through the mouth for eight.”

She counted out loud, and he tried to focus on her voice.

In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight.

Each second felt like an eternity. Some part of him laughed and said that this was Clockwork’s doing. Retribution for daring to interfere with the timeline. Punishment for whatever future atrocities he committed.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out.

Talia gave him a closed lip smile, rubbing circular motions across his back. “There is nothing to be sorry for, my son. Now, let’s get you back to bed. Perhaps I’ll get you something warm to drink, would you like that?”

◆◆◆

Talia slipped her son something to ease the pains and make him drowsy. Carding her calloused fingers through his hair, she watched as Danny sank further and further into sleep’s sweet embrace. His breath evened out, the tension loosening from his frame. She continued her soft ministrations on his dark hair, but slowly her fingers moved to stroke the lines of his face, the slope of his nose, and then the curve of his eyes.

She cataloged his features and compared it to her own. He had her nose. Her mouth. Her skin. He had a more lean figure like her, built more for speed and agility than brute strength— though currently, Danny could be considered more ‘lanky’ than lean, but training and a strict diet will correct that. The rest of Danny was all her beloved’s, from the wide too-bright-too-blue eyes, to the sharp jawline, to the exact shade of black in the hair.

Was this what her beloved looked like in his youth?

Was this what Damian would grow to become?

The ship rocked gently along the waves. She smoothed down Danny’s hair and pressed a soft kiss to his head before rising from her seat at his bedside.

She could not say the same for Bruce at that age, but she was quite certain that Damian would never be as trusting as Danny was. Though she could not blame it entirely on the boy. He was raised in a rather…inferior household, per se. What innate skills he might have inherited from his bloodline were left to rust under the mundanity of civilian life. Had circumstances been more favorable, Talia would have whisked Danny away the moment Dusan had discovered him all those years ago.

Alas, such was not the case.

She left Danny’s room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

The League had too many enemies at the time that bringing Danny in would have made him too tempting a target. Though Talia was not naive enough to believe that concern for his first grandson would be Ra’s al Ghul’s only motive for not having recovered sooner, she did see why it would have been more beneficial to keep his existence and any connection to the League wrapped under secrecy.

“It seems that our father’s investments have paid off.” She looked to her left at where Dusan seemed to materialize from the shadows of the ship’s passageway. “Now, we have the makings of a great assassin at our disposal.”

“Do you think that he planned for this to happen?” She asked, matching his stride, the pair of them slowly making their way to the bridge.

“I cannot even begin to fathom the mind of Ra’s al Ghul. How he could have predicted this , I do not know, but he must have expected some kind of result by keeping your son with the Fentons. No— even that was an accident, wasn’t it? This…this is fate.”

Talia doubted that even the great Ra’s al Gul could predict this outcome for her son. However Ra’s was not one to so carelessly sacrifice a potential asset unless he had a particular gambit in mind. What future did he envision when he made that decision all those years ago?

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “The Rosa disanthus produced mixed results. The worst of the chills and fever abated about half an hour after he imbibed the tea, only to be replaced by nausea and vomiting.” Talia raised her hand, contemplating the lines of her palm for a moment. “There was frost when he had a panic attack. Frost coated his palms and covered his arm all the way to the elbow—I don’t believe he even realized it—but when he drank the tea, it receded.”

“Hm.” Dusan furrowed his brows. “His condition affected his physiology to a greater extent than we thought. No matter. Hopefully enough exposure would mitigate much of the effects. Neither of us are strangers to mithridatism; we would have inevitably tested for all his potential weaknesses, and starting early would prove fruitful later on.”

“You have spoken to father, then?”

He inclined his head in affirmation. “He has given me the task of training young Danyal.”

Talia’s fingers curled into a fist, hand dropping to her side. “I would have thought that I, as his mother, would be in charge of his lessons.”

“Take no offense, sister, this is not meant to be a punishment.” He smiled, a cunning gleam in his eyes. While Ra’s al Ghul normally paid more attention to his daughters for their strength, not even he could deny that, above all his other children, it was Dusan who inherited Ra’s ruthless cunning. “Danyal is young and naive, but he is powerful . Simply isolating him in Nanda Parbat will do nothing if he could simply fly away whenever he wanted. We must teach him to love us. To choose to stay.”

Talia thinned her lips, jaw clenched. She nodded, leaving the conversation at that.

Dusan would be a harsh master to learn under. He would strip Danny and of all he used to be and break him down into nothing . It would be cruel and unkind— but it would be efficient.

Well, no matter. Talia would always be there to pick up the pieces; the honey to the vinegar; the carrot to the stick. She would take what remained of the boy known as Danny and rebuild him with loving words and her motherly embrace, fill the cracks with love and loyalty for the League and their family and shape him until he becomes her son and no one else’s.

She had been forced to give up her eldest son once. Never again.

This child was hers.

◆◆◆

A light fever clouded Danny’s mind during the last stretch of their journey.

Talia said it was the tea that caused it. A little something that they picked up at their last port stop that she and Dusan believed would help with his mania .

Danny didn’t like that tea. It had a pungent aroma to it that made his nose wrinkle. He couldn’t place the scent, but the strength of it was like walking past a Bath & Body Works at the mall mixed with the smell of cherry-flavored cough syrup. Its taste was about as pleasant as its smell, considering that his stomach fought the tea at every step of the way.

He didn’t want to drink it, but Talia and Dusan insisted and Danny didn’t really have much right to refuse. They did so much for him already and in return all they really wanted was for him to drink some tea.

Despite his revulsion for it, Danny could admit that the tea did work. Sort of. It kept the worst of his chills away, thawing the bitter cold deep within his core.

It kept the dreams away too.

So maybe it wasn’t so bad.

He couldn’t remember much of what happened in the interim. Only the rocking of the ship, the quiet lull of his bedroom, Talia’s soothing voice and her hands carding through his hair.

Dusan came at one point with the intention to prepare Danny for his meeting with Ra’s al Ghul, his grandfather and his parents’ benefactor. There was a degree of reverence in Dusan’s eyes as he spoke, his usually impassive face split into a wide grin.

“He is a remarkable man, your grandfather,” Dusan began. “Powerful and intelligent. A self-made man of means.”

A visionary, Dusan described him. A man with dreams of a better future, of freeing the world from the corruptions of society and the clutches of greedy and vicious people who only want to drain the world of its vitality to feed their voracious gluttony.

“Too long have the scum of the earth been allowed to exist in the light of day,” Dusan said. “And so it is from the shadows that Ra’s al Ghul means to rectify it.”

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, trying to take it all in. “That sounds…” His foggy brain couldn’t find the right word. “Intense.”

Well, at least it was safe to say that Ra’s al Ghul wouldn’t like Vlad.

Dusan chuckled. “Indeed. But do not make the mistake of assuming he lacks benevolence. Ra’s al Ghul is ruthless because he must be. But to those who are worthy, he is merciful and just. You have already taken the first step in proving your strength to Ra’s al Ghul, but now, you must leave yourself in his hands. Present your case. Tell him what you seek. Trust that he will help you—for you are of his blood—and that he will help you best.”

It’s those words that Danny—through all of the sudden influx of new sights and sounds and scents around him and the anxiety crawling beneath his kin— tried to remember as they traveled through the mountain fortress of Nanda Parbat.

Exactly where Nanda Parbat existed on the map, Danny had no idea. It was surrounded by snow-capped mountains, built atop a large plateau that dropped off into a deep canyon. The fortress was palatial. Tall towers framed the high walls that encircled the fortress, sunlight bounced off the deep blue tiles of the steeply sloping roofs and gleamed against the golden spires atop the main buildings.

There were three courtyards from what he could tell, each one hidden behind the other and separated by a thick wall. The training yards, Talia called them.

“Who are they?” Danny said, gazing down at the hundreds of people below from their helicopter. They appeared to be doing a series of some kind of martial-art exercises, one form smoothly transitioning into the next in an intimidating display of synchronization.

Dusan answered, “They are those who believe in the world Ra’s al Ghul would bring.”

Trepidation settled in his gut. There was a voice at the back of his head that sounded like Jazz that told him that something was wrong. That this was a bad idea.

His core smothered the thoughts with a brief flicker of grimace, happily humming that warm family-here-home-wish.

Talia and Dusan led him up the lengthy staircase leading to the main compound and through a dizzying series of hallways and stairs that led to the office of Ra’s al Ghul. He barely noticed anything as he walked, too busy trying to keep in pace with his guides. The main building was a huge square tower. The hallways were made of polished wood, rows of shoji screens on Danny’s right and a railing looking down into the courtyard in the middle of the tower to his left.

“What is this place?” he asked. His other question— who are you?— remained unsaid.

Dusan smiled, the overhead lights casting shadows across his face. “This, young Danyal, is home.”

The screen door slid open to reveal a large and spacious office. An antique desk sat in the middle facing the door, piled high with all manner of books, scrolls, ancient tomes, and artifacts. The walls were filled to the brim with even more books and miscellaneous items— some familiar, and some completely unknown to Danny.

Sat behind the desk, a gold bird-shaped magnifying glass held steady above some ancient manuscript, was Ra’s al Ghul.

“You are here,” Ra’s al Ghul remarked. He set down the magnifying glass and gently flipped a page of the manuscript spread out on his desk before standing. He clasped his hands behind his back and leisurely made his way around the desk.

To Danny’s surprise, Ra’s al Ghul did not look like a grandfather. Not that Danny had any other grandparents to compare Ra’s to, and Dusan’s descriptions certainly didn’t give off the vibes of some friendly and sage man who doted on his grandkids and talked about ‘the good old days.’

Yeah, Danny didn’t really know what to expect, but he certainly didn’t expect Ra’s .

Ra’s al Ghul looked, at most , a decade older than his mom and dad. Hell, even Dusan looked older than him. Built tall and broad-shouldered, the indication of whipcord muscles visible beneath his dark green and gold embroidered shalwar kameez. He had the same cool tawny skin as Talia’s, his strange green eyes marked by crows feet. He had dark gray salt-and-pepper hair with a receding hairline and sharp widow’s peak, the back of his hair tied tightly and low against his head.

At his acknowledgement, Talia and Dusan greeted Ra’s al Ghul with a salute. Right hand curled into a fist and pressed against their heart, head bowed. Startled, Danny was quick to do the same.

He bit back a cringe when he realized how sweaty his palms were.

Ra’s inclined his head and they were allowed to drop the salute. He approached them at a measured pace, movements so unnervingly silent even as Danny was watching him move right in front of him.

He stopped in front of Danny, looming over him with narrowed eyes.

Was Danny…was Danny supposed to meet his gaze or lower it? He knew that in some cultures it was rude to look someone directly in the eye. Or was it supposed to be a sign of respect?

Ra’s al Ghul suddenly straightened. Smirked. Danny really hoped that was a good sign.

“So this is him, then,” Ra’s said, walking back further into the room. He turned abruptly on his heel, head cocked to the side. “Come closer, child. Let me get a better look at you.”

His heart jumped into his throat, and he pushed it back down with a painful swallow. A tingling sensation overtook his arm, the urge to try and scratch it away needling his mind. He caught Talia’s gaze as he moved past her and felt a flicker of reassurance as she subtly brushed her knuckles against his, calming his frazzled nerves.

Dusan tilted his head slightly, features impassive but assessing.

Ra’s al Ghul, worryingly enough, reminded him of Vlad. Appearance wise, they looked nothing alike. But there was this… presence , this certain gravitas about them that emanated both great wealth, resources, and the cunningness of which to use them.

Though while Vlad came off as comically villainous and, well, kind of pathetic at times, Ra’s al Ghul possessed an overwhelmingly intimidating aura that seemed to engulf the room. This was a man who did not demand attention but commanded it. One could not help but obey.

Gut instinct told him to not show any fear.

Gut instinct told him to leave .

Ra’s al Ghul’s flat affect broke into a small, soft smile that peaked from beneath his goatee. Gentle. Kind. Almost what Danny assumed to be grandfatherly .

His core hummed excitedly. The anxiety at the pit of his stomach subsided somewhat.

Ra’s loomed over Danny—too close—eyes sharp and assessing. “Do you know who I am, boy?”

“You are Ra’s al Ghul,” he answered.

Family , his core replied.

His smile grew. “That I am, boy, that I am. But I am also your grandfather.”

Grandfather, his core sang.

He straightened his posture, settling a firm hand on Danny’s shoulder.

This time, Danny could not help but flinch.

“No need to be so nervous,” Ra’s chuckled. “We are family, the two of us. My blood runs through your veins as surely as it does your mother’s, no matter that you were once lost to us. And besides that, the doctors Fenton were an invaluable asset to us, both in their research and in caring for you.” He shifted his hold, arm now across Danny’s shoulders as he led Danny in front of the desk. “Dusan and your mother were rather…cryptic with their reports. I have heard that you have a rather unusual situation and would like our help.”

“Yeah— I mean, yes, sir.” Best behavior Danny, best behavior.

Ra’s detached himself from Danny’s side and sat behind his desk once more, elbows rested on polished wood and hands steepled in front of him. Curiosity gleamed in his strange green eyes. “Do tell.”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck, craning his gaze towards Talia.

Talia gave a reassuring smile.

He swallowed a hard lump in his throat, trying to remember what Dusan said.

Present your case. Tell him what you seek. Trust that he will help you.

It was— he never had to tell this many people before. Hell, he never had to tell anyone this story at all! Personally, Danny would like to keep it that way, but it made sense that Ra’s al Ghul would want the whole story. To know what mess he found at his doorstep.

And wasn’t this the reason he came with Talia, anyway? To look for help?

He raised his head once more, meeting Ra’s with a resolute gaze. “Some months ago, I was caught in an accident in my parents’—um, the Fenton’s—lab. Long story short, it turned me into a meta…or at least meta-adjacent? Sorry, I didn’t really have enough time to get too deep into ghost biology.”

Ras raised an imperious brow. “Ghost biology? Yes…If I recall, that was where your parents’ research lay. So you claim that you are a ghost?”

“Yes. Maybe?” Danny shrugged. “It’s kind of been what everyone’s been telling me and what all the signs have been pointing to.”

“I was under the impression that death was a prerequisite to becoming a ghost.”

“There’s been a running theory that I did die in that lab accident. It just didn’t stick.”

Ra’s blinked, giving Danny another appraising look. Danny fought the urge to squirm. Then Ra’s threw his head back with a loud, raucous laugh. “Fascinating!” He stroked his goatee, amused. “What a brilliant little enigma you are. What a wonder my grandchild has become! Though taking his blood into account, perhaps I should have expected it.” He leaned forward in his chair. “So, what request is it that you will make of me?”

Danny bit the inside of his cheek, mind racing for the right words to say. “I want…I was told that you would be able to give me a new life.”

“A new life.”

“I need— I don’t know what I need, really, but for certain reasons I can’t stay in Amity and I certainly can’t trust the law because I know where they’ll put me if I go back and if that happens then—”

Red eyes. A city in ruin. A world on fire.

“Then, what?”

Danny looked away, shoulders hunched as if he was Atlas himself, carrying the weight of the world on his back. “Something really, really bad will happen.”

Ra’s al Ghul beheld him, fingers drumming on his desk in a steady thump-thump-thump . Danny felt stifled under that gaze.

Trust in him , Dusan had said.

Grandfather , his core said. Family-here-trust-together.

After what seemed like an age, Ra’s al Ghul nodded. “Your request is doable, and I will excuse your ambiguity for the present, though I will require a full and detailed explanation at a later date.”

Danny let out a shaky breath. Relief coursed through his veins.

“But,” Ra’s al Ghul said. “I do not give you this new lease on life for free. I require payment.”

“I don’t— I don’t have anything to give.”

Ra’s waved off his concerns. “Worry not, boy, the price I seek is not so steep. What I want is for you to take your proper place in this family.” He stretched out his hand. “Do we have an agreement?”

Danny stared at the hand.

Was it…would it really be this simple? A new name, a new life, a new family all in one fell swoop?

It was almost too good to be true.

Take , his core hummed. Chance-take-family-mine-whole-take.

He took Ra’s al Ghul’s hand and shook it. “We do.”

From that pact, Danyal al Ghul sprang into existence.

And at that moment, though he did not know it yet, Danny Fenton well and truly died.

#dpxdc #phantom children: redux #my writing #cw: gore

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themculibrary · 6 months

Text

70k Masterlist 2

part one

accepting the tides (ao3) - Emma_Anacortes T, 78k

Summary: Tony had dragged Peter from the depths of despair after May’s death. It was normal that he’d grown to care a little about him, right?

Yeah, okay. He freaking loved the kid.

So naturally he would feel a little weird when Richard Parker randomly shows up in Peter’s life. Naturally he’d feel protective, nervous, and confused because where has Richard been all this time? And why does Tony feel sick every time he sees him around Peter?

All he knows is if Richard hurts his kid, Tony’s gonna give him hell.

A Few Tricks Up My Sleeve (ao3) - notapepper leo/jemma T, 70k

Summary: Take two competing performers on the birthday party circuit in a small town. Add a pinch of false assumptions, a dash of miscommunication, and a smidge of sexual tension, and presto! One hot, fresh, snarky, fluffy Kids' Entertainers AU, comin' right up!

Carry The Ocean Back To Me (ao3) - EclecticMuse leo/jemma M, 71k

Summary: Leo Fitz is a poor shipyard worker from Glasgow, looking for a fresh start. Jemma Simmons is a daughter of the British nobility being forced into a marriage she doesn't want. When the two of them cross paths on the world's greatest ocean liner, they both feel like they've finally found a kindred spirit in each other. But with the ship sailing toward its infamous destiny, things are bound to get complicated. AU of the 1997 film "Titanic".

Cosmic Love (ao3) - emquin steve/tony N/R, 74k

Summary: Set after the events of Captain America: Civil War, Tony and Steve have been broken and torn apart by the Accords and the choices they've made. But those that are meant to be have a way of making their way back to each other specially since it won't just be the two of them any longer.

First, Do No Harm (ao3) - BarqueBatch, SkyisGray steve/bucky E, 77k

Summary: James Barnes should be just like any other patient Steve sees in his Brooklyn clinic, but the mob enforcer bleeding all over his waiting room chair apparently didn’t get the memo.

god loves everybody, don't remind me (ao3) - napricot M, 70k

Summary: N’Jadaka didn’t believe in the gods of his people. But belief was not a prerequisite of the gods’ attention, and the blood of the Panther tribe ran in N’Jadaka’s veins. Bast took hold of his soul in her mighty jaws and lifted it free of his body. She gave him a warning shake, just as she would a misbehaving kitten, and set him back. With one careful claw, she tweaked his path through time into a twisting loop. Wayward and abandoned though he was, N’Jadaka was still of her tribe. He could set things right, if given the chance.

Erik gets a do-over. Erik gets a lot of do-overs. Or: Erik Killmonger's own personal version of Groundhog Day, only with a lot more murder, dying, trips to the ancestral plane, awkward family conversations, and divine intervention.

Holiday Spending (ao3) - isfan bucky/tony T, 70k

Summary: Winteriron collage au w/fake relationship; Tony asks Bucky to be his fake boyfriend, either to shake off some matchmaking friends or to piss off Howard. Turns out Bucky is all Tony ever wanted in a boyfriend. Too bad it’s not real (extra angst if Tony paid for Bucky to act as his boyfriend, now Tony wonders if it was all for the money). Happy ending?

James Barnes, Agent of SHIELD (ao3) - Kala_Sathinee steve/bucky E, 75k

Summary: Bucky never fell from the train. When they storm the final HYDRA base, he’s there at Steve’s side. But Steve still goes into the ice, and Bucky is left to deal with a world without him. A world in which he tries to find a purpose.

Love Alight Like Electric Touch (ao3) - dioncchusmic steve/natasha, steve/wanda G, 71k

Summary: Liberal lawyer Natasha Romanoff is doing everything that she can to prevent the community ballet center from it's destruction, wherein the said ballet center is bought by SHIELD Industries, aka Steve Rogers' company.

They come into an agreement that he won't destroy the community ballet center as long as she works for him as his Chief Counsel, what happens when Natasha agrees and finds out more than what she's bargained for?

Oh, Hey There, Mister Blue (ao3) - iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid T, 75k

Summary: There are certain things one learns to expect when dealing with the Mad Titan. Ending up on an unfamiliar ship surrounded by a bunch of aliens is one thing. Loki can handle that.

Ending up on an unfamiliar ship surrounded by a bunch of aliens who are actually on his side is quite another.

Re-Engineered (ao3) - Opy3332 bucky/tony M, 73k

Summary: “Tony blinks. He blinks and his entire world changes.”

Tony is sent back in time from mid-Infinity War to just after returning from Afghanistan.

How different is Tony Stark, and the MCU, with all that knowledge of the future?

Haunted by the guilt of Rhodey’s injury, the betrayal and pain of Steve, the fear of Wanda, the loss of Jarvis, and the foreknowledge of Thanos, this Tony is one the universe hasn’t contended with before. And he is more than ready to re-claim his title of genius, billionaire, and philanthropist in ways unexpected.

Reverse Games (ao3) - MsMoonstar G, 75k

Summary: Thor and Loki have been arguing since they arrived back on Earth and the Avengers are tired of it. Tony Stark comes up with a brilliant plan to make the two Agardian gods get along.

Second Time Around (ao3) - BeneficialAddiction clint/phil T, 74k

Summary: Upon learning that Phil Coulson is still alive, something breaks in Clint, maybe permanently. Leaving behind his team, his home, and his identity as Hawkeye, he falls back on an old name, living separately from the Avengers until SHIELD demands they begin looking for someone to take the missing archer's place and their sights turn to the rogue assassin Ronin.

What are the chances of being recruited by a shady government division of superheroes twice?

The First Avenger (ao3) - shestepsintotheriver steve/bucky M, 73k

Summary: "Steve Rogers neither begins nor ends with Captain America. Before all that, before the fame and the horror and the loss, Steve is just another hungry kid from Brooklyn. Braver than most—or more bull-headed, depending on who you ask—but pretty average. Discounting the bad heart, the bad lungs, the bad temper, or at least that’s what Bucky always says when Steve does something really stupid, but he'll always add ‘the best guy I ever known’ at the end of the list."

The story of the First Avenger with almost all the bits from the movie, then several additions to canon.

The Many Doors of Níu Heimar (ao3) - nixajane loki/steve M, 77k

Summary: In the weeks before Thor's coronation, Loki almost dies, not once, but twice. (An AU in which events conspire to keep Loki from the choices he made in Thor, a war is on the horizon and the chosen battlefield is Earth, and the Avengers assemble with an extra teammate and one less villain to fight).

Time Falls Away (ao3) - NotEvenCloseToStraight bucky/tony, steve/peggy M, 79k

Summary: The Battle of New York: Tony flies himself and the nuke through the wormhole and when his suit shuts down and he starts to fall, he knows he's going to die. But then he wakes up in an alley in Brooklyn, two strangers staring down at him in confusion and Tony is sure he is dreaming when he shakes hands first with pre-serum Steve Rogers, and then Bucky Barnes. Trapped in 1942, Tony befriends Steve, and falls in love with Bucky but America is at war, and Bucky and Steve ship out to join the cause. Tony knows all the stories about the Howling Commandos and knows what’s coming for the soldiers, and has to live through history as first Bucky falls, and then Steve disappears. Tony is left alone in the 40's, crying himself to sleep in the house he had shared with his best friend and his lover. But then he wakes up on the pavement in New York, the Hulk roaring in his face, Steve staring down at him, and he has to wonder if it was all a hallucination. When Tony fell through the sky, did he fall through time as well? Why does Steve act so cold towards him? Were he and Bucky really that happy together?

Did it all really happen, or is Tony in love with a life he can only have in his dreams?

Under My Skin (ao3) - Poetgirl925 skye/grant E, 70k

Summary: AU Skyeward. As a specialist, Grant Ward values control and order in his missions. But when he's paired for a long term undercover op with Skye, a former Rising Tide hacker he previously butted heads with, his infamous control is tested. Posing as a newly engaged couple, they're wary partners in a mission that could prove fatal if they can't learn to trust each other.

Unwanted Celebrity (ao3) - Kryptaria, zooeyscigar steve/bucky T, 72k

Summary: Fifteen years ago, a skinny kid from Brooklyn went to an arts summer camp, where he met child movie star Jimmy Barnes. Their unlikely friendship faded as the years passed. But now, a threat to Barnes' career brings Steve back into his life, in the most unexpected of ways. Or, the one where Bucky is a smooth celebrity, right up until Steve the snarky photographer shows up, and Bucky's whole world gets blown to pieces.

Walls Come Tumbling Down (ao3) - lambchop33 steve/bucky E, 74k

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a successful contractor with an unsuccessful dating history. His boyfriend of many years cheated on him, and he's determined not to repeat that mistake. Enter Steve Rogers, the gorgeous neighbor he discovers in his new apartment building. Companion piece to The Match Game, told from Bucky's point of view, from the beginning. And in the beginning, the thoughts inside Bucky's head are radically different from those inside Steve's head, save for one thing. Bucky thinks Steve is hot, so he's got that going for him. But at this stage, that's all he's got.

Who Has Known Heights (ao3) - MountainRose, szzzt steve/tony E, 72k

Summary: Before his injury, Tony had been a fast, intuitive flier: agile in the air, as those of his wingshape usually were, able to tumble and swoop and then trade back the speed for lift, and always get the best of the bargain.

That was how he referred to it; not 'abduction' or 'captivity' or 'maiming' but injury, the most neutral word possible. Though Steve had never, not once heard him call it an accident.

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #masterlists #70k #70k masterlist #superlong

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 2 years

Note

Are u looking for smut prompts?!!?!? Cuz if so 13 for Jacob/Kit, but if not uhhhh disregard and have a cool day :p

I am so sorry this took me so long to get to, sometimes the smut just doesn’t want to come (excuse the pun) and this has sat in my wip folder half finished for forever. But it’s finally here and it’s definitely on the darker side of things.

@strangefable also asked for this one. So without further ado, the prompt fill for “Get back down here, we’re not done yet.”

Taste the Pain

18+, NSFW (Minors DNI)

Warnings: NonCon, References to torture and starvation, Fingering, Finger Sucking, Exhibitionism, Threats

Words: 1799

Pairing: Jacob Seed x Female Deputy (but Staci’s there too)

Read on AO3

Muffled groans were held back behind duct tape, like the sad sounds of a dying animal. By all accounts he was, or at least that’s what he was intended to be. Wide eyes searched the room desperately, trying to find something to focus on other than the cold stare that struck him full of so much fear.

Staci's mewling bit at her, burning through the ice that had frozen her veins for so long. Seeing him so worn out, so broken, and thin. He was emaciated, made weak since the last time she'd seen him, Jacob hadn't lied about what he intended to do with the traitor. He’d been trapped down here for seven days, the same seven days she remembered waking up to, feeling as though her stomach would start eating itself any given second, knowing that her brain had already started the process, and having that same sadistic grin looking down on her while she suffered.

Here they were all together, down in Jacob's bunker. The steady dripping of a pipe in the corner caused water to pool in the middle of the room where a small drain sat. Staci's cowboy boot slipped against the slick concrete, his foot kicking out as Jacob grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head back, exposing his throat. A temptation for the killer instinct in Kit.

"Look at him, this pathetic piece of meat has been sniveling for days. Just won’t die though, so sure you'd come for him."

She closed her eyes, dragging them away from the bound man before her. His brown eyes brimming with tears. Snot running down in streams making the grey tape glisten in the gloom of the bunker’s lighting.

"Leave him alone, Jacob." She warned, not sure if her words would mean a damn thing at this point.

"You hear that Peaches, she's lookin’ out for ya." A cold chuckle drifting from him at the small defiant glance Staci shot in his direction. He hadn’t broken entirely yet, he was stronger than he looked, he had to give him that. "But you and I both know she didn’t come back here for you.” He squeezed Pratt’s shoulder, fingers digging into the space below the collar bone. “She's here because of me."

"This is fucking sick!" She snarled.

Jacob stalked around Staci, leg swinging with each prideful step. His pet had been the perfect bait to catch her, to get her to come back home, and now he’d get his chance to gloat. "Doesn't he deserve to know? His hero, the Deputy, is with the enemy." He pointed his finger at her as if she were on trial, a witch about to be burned at the stake.

Pratt's eyes went wide as a calf's at the revelation. A tear slipping down the side of his face while he looked at her with a furrowed brow. She could only imagine the things he was thinking about her now.

“Doesn’t he deserve to know about the things you’ve done for me? With me?” Jacob smirked and white teeth shone from the corner of his mouth.

She was of the mind to punch the look off his face. “No. I'm not...not like this.” She turned to climb the stairs back out of the bunker, back to where the fresh air blew, where she could think clearly again.

“Get back down here, Deputy. We’re not done yet.”

That growl of his stopped her feet dead in their tracks. Something that spoke to the most basic part of her. He knew how to command her, and just like how an animal is able to obey, understanding only the tone of voice, so too did she come to heel.

“Good girl. Now get your ass back where Peaches can see ya.”

She dragged her feet along the concrete floor, jaw clenched as her fists were held at her sides. Her heart pounding in her chest thinking about what Jacob might have had running through his head right now.

He circled behind her and she went rigid like she was under inspection, her muscles tensing, reacting to his proximity. Cold fingers wrapped around her neck and then grabbed at the collar of her jacket as he ripped it down her shoulders and arms, throwing it into a dark corner of the room. She wore just a tank top and dozens of scratches and bruises scattered across her chest, neck and arms suddenly came to light. He ran his thumb over the freshest of the batch, deep and purple, right at the curve of her neck causing her to wince as a twinge of pain shot through her muscle.

“Ya see I heard a rumor about our little pal Peaches here. I heard that he liked to flirt with ya."

Staci's head dropped, chin pressed to his chest. In a moment of weakness he had confided in the wrong person. Shoulders lifting and then falling with a heavy sigh.

Jacob's cruel grin made his eyes narrow, taking so much joy out of the deputy’s suffering. His nose pressed to Kit’s neck as his hand grabbed the chunk of hair at the nape just above her braid making her teeth grit. "Can hardly blame him."

He pushed her forward, legs stumbling under her like a foal. Grabbing at her sore point, he pushed her down to her knees. She could look nowhere but up at Staci, at his broken skin, all bruises and dried blood. The guilt began to eat at her and all she could do was mouth she was sorry - what little good that would do either of them now.

"From what I hear Peaches has been around the block a time or two. So I'm sure he can tell where all these marks came from." His hand slid from her shoulder, calloused palm rubbing against the tattooed flesh of her back. “Stay right there. Don’t you move a muscle," he whispered to her, his voice creeping into that part of her brain that aimed to please.

She didn’t try to run, didn’t try to fight. There was no point. Doing that would only mean harm would come to Staci, not to her. That was the unspoken rule, she already knew it. Staci was the errand boy, she was the real pet.

Returning to Staci’s side, Jacob grabbed at the corner of the tape on his mouth. Ripping it off in one foul swoop, like tearing off a bandage, portions of Staci’s stubble coming away with it. Patches of red scattered around his mouth, while the tape residue clung to his black whiskers.

His scream echoed around the confines of the damp basement, but Jacob didn't notice, he just kept right on talking. Unfazed by the horror he inflicted on others. "I'm willing to cut a deal here. I'll let Peaches live, hell he can even stay in the bunker, but he needs to know his boundaries, he needs to know where the line is drawn."

Kit could feel the swell of anger bubbling up to the surface once more. "I'm pretty sure he has an idea. You've made your point. Right, Stace?" She looked at Staci with pity in her eyes, knowing all too well that the young Deputy only had so much left in him after all that he'd been through.

He nodded his head fervently at her in return until Jacob yanked back on his hair, holding him in place once more. "He needs to know that what's mine is mine and it better stay that way, and the best way of doing that is getting used to a scent."

Her eyes flared up at Jacob, disgusted by the insinuation of what was going to come next.

"I don't share. And knowing that he's already been sniffing around you, well I need him to be aware of just who you belong to."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" She snapped.

"He set you free thinking you'd come back for him. Thinking you'd escape together. I think Peaches here has a crush. Let's give him a taste of that freedom." He clapped his hands on Staci's shoulders, his cold stare directed at her. "Stand up."

She rose to her feet, swallowing heavily, dreading the soldier's next move, but unwilling to disobey.

"See how well she listens, Peaches. I never have to tell her anything twice. That's why she's not tied to a chair like you are."

Jacob chuckled to himself as he strode back over to her side, standing behind her, his pale stare focused now on Staci as his hands slid down her hips and over her curves. Unbuttoning her jeans, his hand slipped down the front of her panties.

A breathy, shaking sigh escaped her as his fingertips began to toy with her clit, rubbing rough circles against it. Sliding down her slit, petting her, slipping up into her until she was soaking wet and his digits were dripping with her slick.

Her eyes squeezed together tightly, wanting to grab his hands and pull them away, a bright red flush overtaking her. Turned on by the way he made her feel. Embarrassed to have an audience. Shocked to learn how much she enjoyed being taken by him as others watched.

Pulling away from her, he left her empty and wanting. His fingers glistened in the dark as he shoved them under Staci's nose, forcing him to smell the scent of her upon them.

Kit's heart sank as his eyelashes fluttered, his eyes closing as he took in her scent. Her salty sweet musk was a kind escape from the scent of wet earth the basement had surrounded him in.

Grabbing Staci by the jaw, Jacob forced his mouth open, shoving his fingers inside the younger man's mouth, allowing him a taste of her. Swirling his fingers against his tongue, stroking stripes against it, pressing down and making Pratt gag.

"How does she taste, Peaches?"

Staci tried to speak around the fingers in his mouth but it was no use. Saliva dripped down from the corner of his mouth and settled into the hairs of his beard as more tears fell down his cheeks.

"You better get every last drop of her, pup, because this is the one and only time you're going to get this."

Dragging his tongue between thick fingers, Staci’s cheeks concave as he sucked his master's digits clean.

"Good boy."

His eyes rolled back into his head, the conditioning still having an effect on his mind. Even as Jacob yanked his fingers free with a wet pop, Staci was not yet ready to have them leave.

"Now I hope I've made myself clear." Jacob wiped his fingers on the arm of Staci's shirt, smug as ever, his focus returned to her. "She's mine."

#far cry 5 #fan fiction #jacob seed x female deputy #jacob seed #staci pratt #oc: kit cross #dark smut #lemon

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aphroditestummyrolls · 10 months

Note

If you're still doing the WIP game, can we have some more Time for a Spare Prayer please? :)

Hellooooo I absolutely am still doing the WIP game! Send as many as you like!

The man at the door was a hulking blond thing. Looked like he’d spent too much time in prison somewhere— maybe the Ice Court itself. Somewhere cold and mean. Colm would be lying if he said he was the type of person he’d ever seek to speak to. But, he was the only person standing under the sign of The Crow Club, and Colm was desperate.

There was blood soaking through the arm of his jacket, seeping between the buttons of his waistcoat to his shirt. The lad on his arm had only grown heavier and heavier. He was practically dead weight.

For some reason, the idea of this stranger dying was an untenable thought. Colm couldn’t let it happen.

And they were so close to safety.

He didn’t even need to speak in the end— the blond saw them before he could manage a single word, and took off running to them. If the look on his face was anything to go by, he recognised Colm’s bleeding street urchin. His eyes were terrified and blue, softer than Colm thought he’d find in this part of town.

He was less intimidating than his first impression. The unruly shag of his hair fell in his eyes in his desperation to reach them, but his big hands were tender as he reached for the dying boy. Colm blinked— the man was handsome and young, younger than he had thought. Why did everybody suddenly seem so young?

“Wylan?” He cupped the lad’s face, but the boy— Wylan?— barely whimpered. It was enough proof of life, though, to drag Colm into the present moment. “Oh, Djel— what happened?”

“He ran right into me!” Colm managed. “Chased and, and shot. He’s badly hurt.”

The blond scooped the lad’s smaller frame into his arms, as gently as urgency allowed. Saints, he’s a big fella. Though, he supposed, he looks bigger holding him. Wylan is a small one. The blood pouring from his back saturated his clothes, so dark it looked nearly black. It made him look so frail.

So, Colm followed into the shadowy threshold to The Crow Club, unable to do anything but trail along behind his stranger. He couldn’t leave him now.

“NINA!” The blond cried, calling over a plump young woman from behind the bar. She must’ve been preparing for that night's opening, but she certainly wasn’t anymore. She came rushing over. “Nina, it’s Wylan!”

The pretty girl gave a curse that would’ve made Colm balk on any other day. That day, though, he was one minor inconvenience away from snapping himself. He almost appreciated her candor.

“Saints— his heart’s weak. Get him upstairs to the Slat, hurry.” She had an accent. It wasn’t as thick as her tall companion’s, and different, too. It curled around words like incensed smoke, didn’t clomp around like Fjerdan snow boots, like the man’s.

If he were a betting man, he’d say she was Ravkan.

A Kaelishman, a Fjerdan, and a Ravkan all walk into a Kerch bar… holding half a corpse. He felt a bit ill at the thought, a touch delirious. It was like the set up to a bad joke.

Thanks for playing! A lot of people are asking for more of this story, I’m so glad people have been enjoying it so much! ❤️

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #six of crows #wylan van eck #colm fahey #matthias helvar #nina zenik #time for a spare prayer #aka #the crows witness protection program for wayward fathers #thanks for playing!

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bekoobove · 1 year

Text

Fazbear Fears #6: The First Year

...Charlie desperately tries to keep her new friends from descending into madness, only to realize she’s being dragged down with them…

MAY 13th, 1983

The rain was so cold.

This was supposed to be her special day. Her birthday.

And she was spending it outside, hands pressed against the window, watching her party go on without her.

“What, you think just because your dad owns the place you can tell me what to do?” Robin had asked, mockingly raising the cup far out of reach.

“This isn’t about my dad, it’s my soda, give it back!” Charlie had pleaded.

“Wah, wah, wah. Like I’m going to be bossed around by some three year old.”

She’d been so angry. Birthdays only came once a year, and he was ruining hers. She charged into him, headbutting him in the stomach.

He’d fallen back, spilling the soda and ice all over himself, much to the amusement of his bully buddies Fred and Jane. “Wha- don’t just stand there you morons, grab her!”

They’d quickly complied, each grabbing an arm. They were less than ten, but easily old enough to get the better of a toddler.

“You think you’re hot stuff, huh, Charlie? Maybe you need to cool off!” Robin opened up the heavy metal EXIT doors and gestured to his cronies. They wordlessly tossed Charlie outside, into the muddy alleyway.

“We’ll let you back in a little- however long it takes for you to get who’s boss. Until then, happy birthday!”

The doors had slammed shut, and Charlie had been out there ever since. The door wasn’t locked, but was too heavy to move. It’d been almost ten minutes, and she was freezing. The kids had made their way to the arcade room, and were nowhere in sight.

Her dad said he had made something, he’d said. Something to keep her safe, that would work as long as she kept her green bracelet on. But it wasn’t helping her. She was stuck.

There was the sound of muddy footsteps behind her. She turned to see William Afton, dad’s friend and business partner, walking towards her.

He’d changed a lot over the last few months. Once, he had been a kinder man, more heavyset and with more life in his eyes. Ever since the deaths of Elizabeth and Evan, though, he’d lost weight, and just seemed more tired and angry.

“Charlie?” he grumbled. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Some older kids did this. They threw me outside.”

“Hmm.” he said. He seemed to be thinking, like he was wrestling with something difficult. Finally he responded. “Alright. Follow me.”

She moved to follow William, but something caught her eye in the window. She swore she saw some lanky shadowy figure moving behind the door. Honestly, it was creepy.

Seeing William was already several steps ahead she plodded after him.

Within moments, Charlie realized that they were going deeper into the alleyway. She was pretty sure it was a dead end.

She looked up at him. “Hey, why-”

He grabbed her by her throat and slammed her into the brick wall. Again. And again. And again.

Pain shot through Charlie’s increasingly bludgeoned form. Her blood mingled with the rainfall as her skull cracked.

Finally he released his grip. She fell onto the ground, limp.

His face, now splattered with blood, was a twisted mosaic of a million emotions. Sadness, anger, horror- but they all eventually conglomerated into one horrible expression of victory.

Whistling, looking more alive than he had in months, he walked back onto the street, letting the rain wash the blood away.

Charlie laid there. She knew she was dying.

A figure appeared over her. It was the one she’d seen inside the pizzeria. Through her haze, she recognized it as an animatronic of sorts, wearing a white mask with rosy red cheeks. It had eyes that glowed green, which focused on her bracelet.

The rain was doing something to it. Sparks were flying out of it, and it seemed to practically be coming apart at the seams. It was breaking down, just like her.

It curled up around her, trying to comfort her. It was warm, while everything else was cold. Charlie leaned into the robot, trying to put everything she was into it, hoping she’d be warm too.

She succeeded, but she only got colder.

TWO YEARS LATER

JULY 24th, 1985

There were five of them. Five little souls, all so different, but all united in death.

Charlie couldn’t control her body at first. It was, after all, the new programming of the Puppet: give gifts to the children, especially if they were looking sad.

So the animatronic prodded them with the box it carried, waiting for them to wipe the tears from their eyes and grab it.

They didn’t.

Finally, the Puppet’s programming gave in to Charlie’s influence. She stretched out her lanky limbs, and peered through the mask’s small eye holes at the bodies before.

Rather than giving gifts, she began to give life.

First, a young girl. The squashed cupcake in her hand and yellow hair on her head made her just right for Chica.

Next, a boy with darker skin. He wore a fake tuxedo t-shirt and held a branded Freddy Fazbear™ toy microphone. He certainly seemed worthy to be the leader of the band.

A pale boy with fiery red hair was splayed against the wall. He wore a t-shirt that proudly displayed Foxy the Pirate, and had an eyepatch to match. He’d be content with his new form, if this was anything to go off of.

Beside him there was another young man, with olive skin and an action figure of Bonnie in a literal death grip. That one was easy enough.

Each she evaluated, and each she took, forcing them into the powered down animatronics on stage. Blood and flesh oozed out of the pushsuits as the animatronic parts pierced their bodies. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was necessary. Perhaps their families would prefer them as they had been (relatively unmutilated), but for what? So they could preserve them in a casket, giving them the illusion of living. Charlie was giving them the opposite: they didn’t look alive, but they were.

Within seconds she could feel it, the remnants of their souls sinking into the metal. It would take a while, but the results would be eternal.

Finally only one child remained: a girl with warm beige skin and black hair. She wore a pretty yellow dress, and held an old Fredbear plush.

Her vessel was easy to decide (especially since it was the only animatronic left), but something felt odd- namely, the plush. It was worn and well loved, which made sense since these things hadn’t been produced since the Diner shut down. But why would she bring it here, since Fredbear himself wasn’t on display?

Besides that, the plush itself had a strange feeling about it. Its plastic beady eyes caught the light in a way that made the toy look aware. Even outside of physical appearance, Charlie felt an aura that just seemed inexplicably off emanating from it.

Perhaps it was just the girl, or her emotions powering it. Either way, Charlie wasn’t taking any chances. If there was a piece of her in there, then she couldn’t leave it trapped.

She dragged her into the backrooms, and heaved her into the suit. She gingerly placed the plushy in after.

Charlie returned to the prize counter, and settled into her box. She could feel the Puppet’s powerful daytime programming taking over, and it was easiest to get whatever kind of rest she could during that time.

As wrong as it was, though, Charlie couldn’t help but be a little excited about the nights to come.

Now she had someone to share them with.

JULY 25th, 1985

They woke in the order they were placed.

First the blonde girl winced at the light shining in her eyes. She tried to rub them, only to feel unyielding plastic instead of squishy eyelids.

Startled, she bumped into Freddy, waking up the darker-skinned kid. He snarled. “Hey, knock it off…” He too stumbled backwards in surprise, because the voice that came out of his mouth was not his own- though neither was his mouth.

In the distance, a ragged cry of confusion echoed out. Charlie guessed it to be that of the red haired boy, all alone in Pirate’s Cove.

Finally, the last child on stage yawned, and scratched his head. The path of his hand across it was interrupted by two protruding ears.

The children eventually all entered the main dining area, where Charlie sat, waiting patiently.

The Foxy animatronic lunged at her. “Who are you?” it growled. “Did you do this to us?”

“Yes and no.” Charlie responded.

“Um, pretty sure you can only say one of those.” the Chica robot said.

“It’s complicated. First off, let’s introduce ourselves. I’m Charlie.”

“Susie.” responded Chica.

“Jeremy.” Bonnie said nervously.

“Gabriel.” Freddy contributed hesitantly.

Foxy gave her a cautious look before answering. “Fritz.”

He continued. “With that out of the way, why are we like… this?” He gestured at himself and his friends with his hook.

“Well, you’re dead.” Charlie figured it was best to rip that band-aid off quickly.

The silent pizzeria grew even more quiet, as if the building itself was stunned.

Susie looked around, and fearfully eyed her fuzzy robotic hands. “Is this heaven?”

“My dad said there isn’t heaven- or anything after.” Gabriel countered.

“Clearly he was wrong.” Charlie said curtly. “But this isn’t heaven either.”

Jeremy gasped. “Is this...the bad place?”

“No. It’s Earth.”

Fritz stared. “But we’re dead.”

“You’re sort of in between. You’re dead, but not all the way. The animatronics are your new bodies, since your old ones are destroyed.”

“How long will we be here?” he pressed.

“Don’t know.” She briefly worried. “You aren’t in pain, right?”

All of them shook their heads. “I don’t feel hurt, I just barely feel anything.” Gabriel whispered.

Suddenly, he gasped. “Wait, where’s Cassidy?”

They all swiveled their heads, scanning the room for a fifth animatronic.

“Oh, her.” Charlie smiled as much as her mask would allow. “Just follow me.”

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

“See, she’s fine!” Charlie pointed at the limp furry form splayed against the back room wall.

They all stared in shock.

Fritz roared in anger. “What’s wrong with her?!”

Charlie calmly explained. “This is a springlock suit. It’s an animatronic whose insides can be retracted so the suit can be worn. Right now it’s in suit mode.”

Jeremy frowned. “Can we get her in the other mode?”

“We’d need a springlock crank to do it. No dice right now.”

“If the robot isn’t working, can she even… think?”

Charlie paused. “I’m pretty sure...but I can check to be certain.”

She gently placed her hand on the thing’s dusty forehead. It was easy to hear the voices of spirits, if you listened enough.

Sure enough, the sound of a young girl speaking quickly echoed through her head, as if the noise was reverberating up her arm, into her robotic mind.

What she wasn't expecting, though, was another voice. It was a young boy’s. Vaguely familiar, but she just couldn’t place it.

She fell backwards in shock. Another soul, somehow lurking inside the suit?

“Hey, you OK?” Susie asked.

Charlie considered telling them, but decided against it. These poor souls were so worried, and looking to her for guidance. It would terrify them if there was something she couldn’t explain.

“Um, yeah. Don’t worry, I heard your friend’s voice. She’s fine. Or, y'know, as fine as anyone can be under these circumstances.”

Gabriel smiled. “Well I've been thinking, maybe this isn’t too bad. We can spend as long as we want at Freddy Fazbear’s!”

The other kids agreed. “Race you to the arcade!” Fritz challenged.

The four possessed animatronics ran off laughing.

Charlie sighed. One day at Freddy’s was magical. One eternity, not so much.

She’d learned the hard way.

And they would too.

AUGUST 27th, 1985

The month had been a whirlwind of arcade games and pizza, of fun and games. They didn’t need to rest (though the arrival of day forced them to). Every night was an unending barrage of childhood fantasy- and that’s where the trouble began.

You can only get the high score so many times before it begins to lose its exhilarating effect. Pizza’s flavor was dulled by the mechanical middlemen it had to go through. No matter how much fun anything is, it becomes trite and boring given enough time.

They lasted longer than Charlie had before apathy began to set in. Of course, she’d spent much more time here than them in life, and had been all alone. It took a lot of work to keep from going crazy in these circumstances.

Nevertheless, it was on this day that they finally asked her for help. She had offered it a few times, but they had always denied needing it, as children were prone to do.

They all gathered around the stage, Charlie sitting on its edge.

“Ok, the most important thing about living like this is that your emotions become incredibly powerful. They govern the way you think and act, since you’re no longer restrained by your mind or body.”

Fritz raised his hook.

“Yes?”

“What kind of emotions? Just bad ones?”

“No. Good feelings can affect you for the better.” She hesitated. “But negative emotions are more dangerous than good ones are helpful- especially since the former are more likely to leak out.”

Susie gave an incredulous look. “Leak?”

“It’s something that happens all the time, but us being stripped down to spirits made it much more powerful. When those emotions get out, they can infect objects.”

“What kind?”

“Anything. A toy, a doll, candy- anything it can latch on to. Though, when given the opportunity, it’ll grab something with some kind of intelligence. Usually artificial, like an animatronic”

Gabriel gaped. “How do you know all this?”

“It was something my...dad’s friend...used to study. My dad helped out sometimes, though he was never as obsessed as him.”

“Could we get his help with all this spirit-feelings stuff? I know we can’t leave the pizzeria, but maybe he’ll come in!”

Charlie chose her words carefully. “I don’t think he’ll be helping us.

“For now, we just need to try to stay calm- keep our emotions in check. Otherwise, we could lose ourselves. Now, let’s just try to relax. How about some breathing exercises?”

Jeremy frowned. “We can't really breathe…”

“Well, it’s really more like flexing your joints for us. Just- try not to let your servos lock up. Doing nothing can only worsen your mental state- make your emotions more volatile.”

As Charlie said that, she couldn’t help but catch the empty eye sockets of Fredbear- of Cassidy- through the barely opened Backroom door. They bored into her, like two shadowy spotlights.

Even though there were no eyes, Charlie could tell they were watching.

She excused herself briefly and went in to look.

The bear sat there, surrounded by discarded robotic pieces.

“Everything ok? Or, ok as it can be?” Charlie asked.

She didn’t know why. It wasn’t like Cassidy could answer.

One thing did stick out to her. From the left socket, a single drop emerged, streaming down the suit’s cheek. It was a sticky black substance, like runny tar.

Charlie wasn't sure what it was. She tried to wipe it off, but the moment she touched the liquid, a streak of pain ran up her lanky striped arm, like a needle had been jabbed through it.

She quickly pulled it back, shocked. That black ooze...it was some kind of slurry of emotional energy. There was rage, sadness, and confusion, all of which were bound together by agony.

Even now the substance was evaporating, turning to black steam in the air.

In a panic, Charlie pushed all of the animatronic parts away from the bear. If that emotional energy got a hold of them, horrible things could happen.

Keeping an eye on the mascot, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

NOVEMBER 3rd, 1985

“I have a surprise for all of you.” Charlie said excitedly.

The four animatronics had all been sitting at one of the long dining tables, looking rather downcast. While morale could be worse, it was nowhere near the level of energy and enthusiasm present during that first month.

Jeremy raised his head off the table. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Ta-da!” She pulled out a small mechanical box from behind her back. The cube had lots of strange wires and cross beams sticking out of it.

“It’s a voice box- more specifically, a voice box I designed to work for an open springlock suit. Since we can’t get the suit’s parts to compress, I figured giving your friend the chance to talk might be the next best thing.”

(For you guys, and anyone who doesn’t want to be killed by agony infested robot scraps) Charlie thought.

Susie stood up, excited. “That’s awesome! I’ve been missing Cassidy so much.”

“Just follow me to the backroom.” Charlie grinned.

Quickly enough they had all crowded into the small space.

“Hey.” Fritz asked. “What’s this black stuff on the ground?”

Charlie looked to see more of the agony energy pooling around the golden bear like blood.

“It’s- it’s just oil. Try not to touch it, these suits stain easily.”

Careful Charlie leaned forward, balancing on her pointed feet to avoid the ‘oil’, and began to rewire the animatronic to allow the voice box to be put in.

It took some time- the animatronic systems were split apart by the springlocks- but she succeeded.

“Alright.” she said. “Let’s get her talking!”

She flipped the voice box’s switch.

Nothing.

“Hmm.” Charlie muttered.

“Maybe she just doesn’t feel like talking.” Jeremy suggested.

“She hasn’t talked to anyone for over three months.” Charlie said- though her mind turned to that second voice she had heard long ago.

“I might have just wired something wrong. Let me try to fix it.” She reached for the box.

As she did, the thing sprung to life, and started to produce a sound- but it wasn’t words.

The noises from the box were unearthly- a mix of muttering and screams that were heavily distorted. It wasn’t the voice of a child- it was closer to the whispers of the devil.

All of the others began backing away, scared.

Gabriel gulped. “I’m not a robot expert, but this isn’t supposed to happen, right?”

Charlie was stunned silent. She looked at the box, trying to see if she’d forgotten some important part.

The box was complete, but it was falling apart. That agony energy was pulsing right through it, bursting through the seams- like that distorted audio was it trying to escape.

The noise finally crescendoed at one last scream, and the box exploded.

Dark liquid splattered over all. Charlie’s mask was marred with the shadowy substance, and the other animatronics had black spots over the torsos.

Within seconds, the substance seemed to be sucked into their plush skins.

“Oh my gosh! Guys, are you ok? Do you feel- well- any more murderous?”

Susie frowned. “No. That black stuff is gross but we’re fine.”

The three boys all affirmed that.

“But is Cassidy ok?” Susie said timidly. “That doesn’t seem normal.”

“I guess I don’t know.”

There was silence for a second, then Gabriel screamed.

“Hook! Hook!”

Fritz sighed. “Yeah, I know. I miss having two hands.”

“Not your’s! That one.”

Gabriel pointed at a robotic Foxy arm in the pile. It was rather unremarkable- except that it was moving.

Charlie stared in horror. More of the agony goo had splattered onto the part, and was being absorbed into it. Now it was alive.

It wiggled out of the pile, and dragged itself towards them.

“Everyone, out!” Charlie yelled.

The five animatronics dashed out of the room, and Charlie slammed the door behind her.

“Wait! What about Cassidy?” Jermey asked, concerned.

Charlie leaned against the door. She tried to calm down.

“I think your friend will be fine.” Charlie muttered. She heard scratching from behind the door.

“What do you mean? There’s an evil robot arm in there!”

“It won’t hurt her. She made it with her own emotions. It’s like an extension of her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” Charlie snarled, balling her fists. “Who’s the expert here? You all should trust me more- and so should she!”

Gabriel got angry. “She’s just scared and confused! We all are!”

“You shouldn’t be! I’m here to keep you safe.”

Susie raised a robotic eyebrow. “Well, you’re not making me feel safe right now.”

The four walked away, leaving Charlie alone at the door to keep the monsters at bay.

FEBRUARY 13th, 1986

Cassidy was evil.

Charlie knew it. The others kept trying to defend her, but they were wrong- blinded by their so-called friendship.

They had quieted down about it over the last few months, but they’d quieted down about most other things too. They seemed more somber, more hopeless. Once or twice Charlie had caught them with agony dripping off their endoskeletons.

Cassidy had to be doing this. Infecting them with her agony, trying to turn them into her dark minions. It was so obvious, why couldn’t they see it?!

She was already causing damage. One day while Charlie gave out presents to the children, she’d seen an employee carrying a box full of animatronic parts, including the Foxy arm. He had brought it outside, put it in the back of his truck, and drove off.

She assumed it had been taken to repair a Foxy at another location. Who knew what monster the animatronic would turn into once the agony infected the rest of the body?

All of these things she thought about as she paced around that night. The others were hanging out in a party room coloring pictures, leaving her alone in the main dining area. She’d kind of forgotten what it felt like to be the only person here at night, and it wasn’t pleasant to remember.

“If they would just listen to me…” she muttered to herself, “everything would be better. But they keep taking your side.” Charlie added that last part as she glared at the backroom where Cassidy sat.

She opened the door, just to show how angry she was to her.

The bear was gone.

Horrified, Charlie glanced around, scanning the area for the suit.

It wasn’t too hard to find it.

It was behind Charlie’s Prize Counter, a spot that had been empty when Charlie last looked moments before.

Charlie walked over, stunned. Her surprise quickly turned to anger.

“What are you doing here? How did you even get here!?”

Anger morphed again into horror when she saw more of that agony goo spilling out onto a box of toys.

It was an odd collection, with no particular theme- or that’s what most people would think. In reality, these were some prototypes of toys her father had designed.

The most simple was a plastic doll of a chubby child holding a sign and a balloon. It was apparently based on some plans for a future character. A robotic dog and rabbit leaned against each other, as if comforting one another for being sent back to development for the same reason: too-sharp teeth. Lastly, and most personally to Charlie, a porcelain Ella doll like the one Dad had designed for her laid limp against the box’s cardboard wall.

All of them absorbed the goo, practically drinking up the shadowy stuff.

They began to move.

Charlie was beyond furious. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?” She screamed at the golden bear. With all of her animatronic strength, she heaved the suit out of the Prize Corner. It slammed against a table, its limbs ragdolling.

Charlie grabbed the box and dashed into the kitchen. Quickly she opened the oven door and put the box inside. Slamming the door shut again, she turned it up high.

Fire filled the window as the box and everything inside caught ablaze.

Charlie sighed in relief. She prepared to go outside to confront Cassidy, but something stopped her.

Her eyes caught the oven’s digital clock as she fell over.

6 AM. Her animatronic programming took over again, and she blacked out.

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

Alex stared at the strange scene. He’d seen some strange stuff as the first person in for the opening shift, but nothing like this. The Puppet animatronic laid there, splayed out on the kitchen floor, and the oven had exploded open, seemingly short circuited from the heat. Strangest of all there were the remnants of cardboard inside the oven, most of the box burnt to a crisp- but the objects that had been inside, an odd looking collection of toys, were barely touched.

“Ok, let’s see here…”

First he dragged the Puppet to its proper position in its box. He grabbed the phone mounted on the wall nearby and dialed in a number.

“Uh, hello? Hello, hello? Yeah, we’re gonna need an appliance repairman by- um- soon. We open in a couple of hours, so if you could- oh, yeah? Great. Uh, see you then.”

Alex hung up.

Finally, he scooped up all those toys, and dropped them in the dumpster out back. Even if they looked mostly fine, their wiring might be burned.

He sighed, “What a morning…” and walked back inside.

Of course, the toys didn’t stay put for too long.

But their stories have been told.

FEBRUARY 27th, 1986

Charlie was not feeling so good.

She’d spend most of the last two weeks staying up all night to watch Cassidy. If she took her eyes off her for even a second, she might teleport again to who-knows-where and infect more objects. Charlie was pretty sure she’d destroyed them- but what if next time she didn’t?

She didn’t really need to sleep, but there was something about doing nothing that was exhausting.

It didn’t help that she was conscious during the day right now. Normally she’d fall sort of asleep when the animatronic systems took over. But for some reason she was awake- probably out of stress, or something Cassidy was trying to do to confuse her.

Nevertheless, she was aware of every present she gave out, and saw every kid’s smiling face.

It was kind of nice, to be honest.

Until she saw a face she recognized.

Robin’s.

He looked different, sure. He looked paler, and had dark circles under his eyes. Only two years had passed, but he looked older, like something heavy weighed on him. Still, it was unmistakably him.

He looked nervous as he reached the front of the line- no, scratch that, he looked petrified.

His mother (Charlie assumed) put a hand on his shoulder and smiled kindly.

“It’s ok, honey. The Puppet isn’t mad at you. He just wants to give you a gift.”

But she was wrong.

Anger coursed through every thought of her mind, filling her soul with hatred. She tried to reason with herself: Robin had been a jerk, but he never wanted her to be murdered. William was the one to blame.

But Charlie’s defense of him crumbled before the overwhelming persuasions of the darkest part of her. Robin put her through this. If he had been a better person, she would not be suffering through this painful prison, free from this twisted form of metal and wires.

He took her happiest day from her.

Now he’d get what he deserved.

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

Alex kept an eye on the Puppet while he scrubbed the tables. Ever since that strange scene he’d come inside to a few weeks ago, he’d been wary of it. If there was a glitch in the system, and it struck during the day while the robot was surrounded by kids, that would be bad.

That nervous looking kid (Robin, Alex recalled. He was the older brother of the birthday girl) stepped up to the Puppet’s box.

It looked him over. Then it behaved just like normal- it turned ninety degrees, grabbed a wrapped-up prize from the shelf, and turned back. It extended its arms towards Robin, encouraging him to grab the gift.

Looking relieved, Robin reached for it, but the box fell out of the animatronic’s hands.

Alex sighed. Were the finger joints loose again?

Apparently not, because the Puppet grabbed Robin by the throat and began to strangle him.

Everyone watching began to scream. Robin’s mother tried to hit the robot with her handbag, but it knocked her away. Two of the kid’s friends kicked at the box, but the Puppet raked its long fingers across their faces, drawing blood. It lifted Robin off the ground, keeping a firm one-handed grip on his neck.

The boy was panicking, trying to draw breath, but the Puppet’s hand was like a vice, squeezing tighter and tighter.

Horrified, Alex considered running over to grab the kid, but had a better idea. Dashing through the arcade, he came upon a small control panel built into the wall. He fumbled his key into the lock and turned it, causing the glass covering to raise.

In one quick movement, he pulled the lever labeled PUPPET EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN.

Across the room, the Puppet’s eyes glowed a little brighter. In that moment, Alex felt like he saw something behind them far more than artificial, like it was aware and thinking. However, that lasted only a moment, after which they blinked into darkness. Its limbs and fingers went limp, and it released its hold on Robin. He tumbled to the floor and scooted away, tears running from his eyes.

Alex sighed with relief.

After the hubbub calmed down, Alex made another call.

“Hello? Hello, hello? This the Fazbear Entertainment animatronic repairs department? We‘ve got some, uh, serious problems over here.”

FEBRUARY 28th, 1986

Charlie woke up.

She was in her box.

She tried to lift up the lid. It wouldn’t budge.

She kept trying, but no luck.

She began to scream.

JUNE 1st, 1986

Hours had turned into days.

Days into weeks.

Weeks into months.

Charlie woke up once again. As was her ritual she pushed against the lid.

For the first time in months, it opened.

Shocked, she crawled out of her box, stretching her limbs out.

The other kids were chatting at the table, and were surprised to see her.

“Oh- uh, hey, Charlie.” Gabriel muttered.

Then Charlie realized: they were surprised that she’d come out now, but not surprised that she’d been in there.

Charlie pounced at Gabriel, stopping an inch from his metallic muzzle. “You all knew I was in there? Why didn’t you get me out?!”

Gabriel was stunned silent. Fritz glared. “Why? Because you tried to strangle an innocent kid!”

“That ‘innocent kid’ was responsible for my death! If he hadn’t locked me outside the restaurant, William couldn’t have gotten me!”

The four kids stared at her. “William?” Susie echoed. “Is that the man who killed us?”

“Yes, ok? But that doesn’t matter.”

All of them seemed to chew on that information, that name, as if filing it away for closer inspection later.

“Alright.” Jeremy admitted. “But he didn’t mean for that to happen.”

He was right, of course.

“I know.” Charlie conceded. “But it’s not my fault! It’s her’s!” She pointed into the backrooms. The door was open, so it was easy to see Fredbear, shaking around in his sitting position.

“Why’s she doing that?” Gabriel asked.

“Because she knows she’s been found out!” Charlie walked over and picked up the suit, as if by its collar.

“You think you’re so smart? Well, you never fooled me!”

The others all leaped up from the table.

Fritz growled. “Hey, what the heck are you doing?! And what do you mean it’s Cassidy’s fault?!”

“She infected me with her agony!” Charlie held the suit out at them. “Can’t you see? She’s evil, and she’s trying to make us evil, too! She’s trying to infect all of us.”

Black agony dripped from the bear’s mouth as she said that. “See?”

Gabriel balled his fists. “If this is about that ‘agony’, or whatever, that was leaking from us, I’m pretty sure that was our own. And even if it was Cassidy’s, there’s no way she did it on purpose.”

He pointed at her face. “I mean, there’s some coming out of you right now!”

Startled, Charlie stroked her face. Her hand came away covered in shadowy emotional energy, tears that leaked right out of her own eyes.

She hesitated for a moment, but then doubled down. “I don’t know how she’s doing this, but I know it’s her. Maybe her infecting us has turned us into her own evil factories! I mean, why would you be experiencing these emotions?”

Susie gaped. “Why? WHY!? We’re dead. We’re trapped in bodies that aren’t ours, and we don’t know if we’ll leave tomorrow, in ten years, or never!”

“I had to deal with that prospect, too. Did I create bucketfuls of negative energy? No!”

“This is an insane situation. Everyone would react to it differently!”

Charlie ignored her, continuing her rant “I tried to help her, but she rejected me. I wish I’d left her dead!”

A stunned silence fell over the room. What she had just said fully sunk into her. “I- I’m sorry, that was…”

Jeremy couldn’t take it anymore. Roaring, he ran at Charlie and swung his fist at her. She instinctively slapped him across the face, the force sending him flying backwards.

He skidded against the wall and yelled in...pain?

“It hurts,” he whispered.

She had hurt him- something that shouldn’t have been possible.

Her vision shifted, and her perspective altered. For just a few moments, she didn’t see the dead-eyed robots- she saw the kids.

She saw Jeremy trying to prop himself up against a wall, holding his knee as if he’d skinned it. Gabriel and Susie both tried to comfort him and help him up, their skinny arms interlacing with his, even though their physical bodies couldn’t. And Fritz gazed at Charlie, the freckles on his face squeezing together as he glared, daring her to try something.

Finally, Charlie turned around, to look at the suit she’d dropped when Jeremy charged.

A vaguely familiar boy with a striped shirt stood there- holding the Fredbear plush she’d put in the suit so long ago. She didn’t dwell on that too long, though. He was standing in a defensive stance, his arms in a ‘stay back’ position.

Said position was directed at the figure nervously peering over his shoulder- Cassidy.

Charlie stared at Cassidy, who cringed in fear.

Part of Charlie desperately wanted to find proof of what she’d suspected for the better part of the year. But she soon realized there wasn't any.

Cassidy wasn’t evil. Her eyes weren’t filled with malice, they overflowed with tears of confusion and fear. She was scared and lost.

Charlie looked down at the hand that wiped her own shadowy tears, and her vision snapped back to normal.

Only now did she realize what she’d done- the monster she’d become, pinning her own flaws on this innocent girl.

While she had been looking at Cassidy stunned, Fritz went over to help Jermey. His knee was covered in the agony goo that had coated Charlie’s hand, which explained why it actually hurt him.

It began to dissolve into nothingness. Confused, Fritz asked, “You ok?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Jeremy said, in a way that suggested otherwise.

Fritz turned back to Charlie and snarled. “What on earth is-”

She wasn’t there. He looked out the door to see her slinking down the hall.

“What’s going on with her?” he asked.

Susie sighed. “Maybe she just needs to be alone for a little while.”

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

Alex stared blankly at the security camera footage. These robots had been acting weird, but this? Actively attacking each other? He really thought that they’d fixed whatever was wrong with the Puppet- though the awareness he’d caught in its eyes continued to haunt him.

He came up with a new idea. As soon as possible, he’d hire a night guard to keep an eye on them and record their behaviors. Maybe then they could fix them properly.

What could go wrong?

JULY 21st, 1986

Charlie had spent most of the month on her own. Whether pondering in the bathroom, meditating in the closet, or simply hiding away in her box like now, the time had been used to think.

She partially thought about what she could do to make things up to the others, especially Cassidy. Not that she was even sure she could…

But the main thing that troubled her were Susie’s arguments. How long would they be stuck here? Charlie had always taken it one day at a time, but now that it wasn’t just her soul at stake, she truly realized the insanity of the situation.

Before, she’d thought she knew everything that could be useful to her. That, really, was probably why she’d blamed all her and their problems on Cassidy- she was the unknown factor. That other presence, which had thrown her off so badly whenever she sensed it, especially so. Now she knew it was that familiar boy, and that both him and Cassidy were not intentionally hurting them.

Charlie twisted and stretched her way out of the box, only to see Jeremy walking around looking agitated. Well, she thought, I have to say something eventually.

“Um, hey, Jeremy.”

He jumped, only to relax once he saw her. “Oh, hi.”

“Listen, I wanted to apologize for how I treated you, and Cassidy. I was-”

“Yeah, sure. There’s no time, you have to follow me.”

Confused, Charlie lightly stepped out of her box and followed him through the darkened halls.

He walked into one of the party rooms and removed the covering of a large vent.

“In here.” he growled. “You won’t believe this.”

“Um, this vent goes to the old office.” Charlie said, now completely baffled. “There’s a hallway that leads right there, why not just take that?”

“Too risky. He might see us.”

“Who!?”

Jeremy didn't say another word, and began to crawl through the metal tunnel.

Charlie continued after him.

The vent was open on the other side. Jeremy pointed out. “See?”

Charlie gazed through the square window to see a bored looking security guard clad in the Fazbear security guard purple uniform. He had some sort of tablet he was looking at, and was occasionally writing something down in a notebook beside him.

He didn’t notice them since the vents were dark, but he had a flashlight. If he heard something, he could look and see them.

“It’s him.” Jeremy whispered, pure anger dripping from his usually collected voice. “The man who killed us.”

“What?!” Charlie muttered incredulously. She quickly pushed him back through the vent, into the party room, following closely behind.

She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “What do you mean? That’s not William. Besides, how could you even recognize him? He was wearing that Spring Bonnie costume when he killed you.”

Jeremy gazed at the wall, as if trying to bore a hole directly into the office with his eyes. “He took it off while he was arranging us into that stupid party scene. It’s the same uniform, similar face- even the way the shadows cover his face. It’s him. There’s no doubt.”

Briefly the image of the man flashed through Charlie’s mind. Jeremy was right, there was an uncomfortable resemblance…

She shook her head. “That’s just the security guard uniform. William was probably working here when he killed you. I think you’re just imagining the rest.”

Jeremy paused. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes.”

Silence. “Then we should probably tell the others.”

“They think it’s him too?”

“Yeah.” He hesitated, as if wondering whether to add anything. “Oh, yeah, they are trying to kill him.”

Charlie gasped. “THEY’RE WHAT!?

Where are they?” she demanded.

“Close.”

Charlie ran into the hall, only to see Fritz and Gabriel creeping down it, staring intensely at the security guard. She dove forward and grabbed both of them, quickly pulling them into the party room across the way.

Needless to say, their clanging metal bodies made a bit of a ruckus, causing William- no, the innocent security guard, Charlie reminded herself- to look into the hall with his flashlight. By then, it was empty. He nervously jotted something down.

“What are you doing?” Charlie asked, enraged. “How can you not tell who it is!?”

“It’s William.” Fritz snarled.

“No doubt.” Gabriel agreed.

More metallic sounds echoed through the room, this time from this room’s vent. Charlie caught Susie’s legs disappearing into the vent. Grabbing them, she yanked her out.

Susie shrieked. “Why? I was so close to avenging us!”

“That man didn’t hurt you. Listen, I get that you’re mad, but that’s not your killer. It’s not fair for you to kill someone for looking like a person who wronged you.”

Charlie spun around to make sure Jeremy wasn’t trying anything funny. Instead, sitting in the middle of the hall, she saw Cassidy and the familiar boy, their suit body in its normal slack-jawed position.

She reached out and pulled it into the room as well. As she did, more corrosive agony dripped out of its joints.

The others were overflowing with the black stuff as well. For a moment, Charlie wondered if she’d been right about Cassidy all along, and the others were all infected.

But she quickly understood the truth. They were all equally at fault, all too weak to keep their own agony and hatred from flooding their minds- including Charlie.

The faces of William and the security guard began to seem more alike. The beads of sweat dripping down his brow blended together with the raindrops that had freely flowed over William that stormy evening. The freckles that dotted the guard’s face may well have been the blood droplets that splattered him as her body cracked open. Those teeth- slightly yellowed, with one crooked- matched with the ones exposed during William’s final smile of twisted, murderous joy.

Luckily, the morning arrived within minutes, and they all fell down, limp. But Charlie just wasn’t sure she could hold the others off much longer.

JULY 22nd, 1986

The night was like a dream.

A half asleep, groggy stumble through a dark restaurant. Charlie tried everything- reasoning with them, distracting them, fighting them- but it was hard to convince them not to kill someone she half-wanted to as well.

She couldn’t make out the name on his tag, but she couldn’t help but read it as William. His midwestern accent morphed into the British one that was present in every deceptive word her murder had lured her away with.

The day arrived, but Charlie was barely holding on. She felt her true self receding into mindless, murderous madness more with every second.

Finally she succumbed, and the world grew a little darker.

JULY 23rd, 1986

Walter clicked through the security cameras frantically. Where were the animatronics? They’d only begun to get more erratic over the last few nights. The day technicians claimed they were getting closer to a solution, but they were clearly lying.

He’d seen them peek out from around the corners at him, heard them skulking through the halls, smelled the disgusting rotten odor that clung to their cartoonish animal bodies.

Walter was a logical person, and he knew how ridiculous the idea that they were hunting him sounded. Still, if things got much worse, he might quit. He could certainly get better pay than $3.35 an hour.

Groaning metal echoed from the right vent. Nervously, Walter shined his flashlight at it.

A robotic bunny’s face stared back.

Startled, he flashed the light at it. “Wha- go- go away!”

He flashed the other vent quickly, only to double take as that chicken robot climbed out of it.

Fear turning to horror, he began to back out of the office, into the hallway. He was about to break into a sprint when he saw Foxy and Freddy marching towards him, with aggression and purpose.

Walter tried to get back into the office, but Bonnie and Chica blocked the way. He was surrounded.

He frantically grabbed his taser from his holster and zapped Freddy with it. It knocked him backwards, and seemed to stun him.

“Leave me alone! Or else…”

Before he knew what happened, the taser was smacked out of his hand. It skidded between Bonnie and Chica, back into the office.

The hand that had done that grabbed him by his collar, and heaved him high in the air. It was that Puppet thing Alex had warned him about.

It examined him, looking at his face from every angle. He screamed and kicked at it, but to no avail.

Finally, it waved Foxy and Freddy aside. They cleared the hallway for it. Behind them sat another bear animatronic- though the way it was slumped against the wall, it looked more like a suit. Walter was pretty certain it hadn’t been there before

The Puppet walked Walter over and began to force him into it. To his confusion, he felt his body scrape against mechanical parts- and then begin to be pierced by them.

His screams of pain rung through the otherwise silent halls.

He looked at the animatronic in its eyeholes. “Please…” he managed, as blood began to clog up his throat and sharpened cross beams pushed into his skull.

The mask shifted ever so slight, for just a moment. From its small smile, a scared girl’s voice whispered, “I’m sorry…”

But it didn’t stop pushing.

One last horrible crunch sent a streak of unimaginable pain through Walter’s body. He shrieked one last time.

The light consumed him.

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

Alex dumped the bloody mop water down the drain. He was still shell-shocked at the scene the manager had called him to check out an hour before.

Speaking of him, Mr Vernon stood in the entrance of the supply closet. “I informed his family,” he said. “Told them it seemed like a freak accident.”

“It wasn’t.” Alex insisted, trying not to vomit from the awful memory. “Walter was stuffed into that suit intentionally. There’s something wrong with the animatronics- something that we can’t fix.”

“I know.” Vernon said. “We’ll be closing down for a while, but Fazbear Entertainment headquarters is working on some new models- real advanced technology. Nothing like this- or like the incident from a year ago- will ever happen again.”

Alex nodded numbly. “And the old models?”

“They’ll be kept for parts. Company policy.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“We won’t use any of their mental processors, just their body parts. There’s no way any glitch could transmit from those. Trust me, Alex, I know this year sucked, but it's over.” He walked away.

As much as he wanted to, Alex didn’t believe him.

In fact, he felt like it was only just beginning.

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