#tw: hint of death

[bleedingichorhearts]

Hi Ichor,

I would like to request something about your World Eater, Spartak (he's my favourite of your boys). It doesn't have to be a story, it could be headcanons you have for Spartak (SFW or NSFW). Here's a few questions that might give you some ideas:

So when 'reader' left Spartak, where did she go? How did they 'escape'? Did she go walk, drive, plane? How far did she manage to go and how long did it take for Spartak to find her. Clearly she was afraid of him. Did she find a city to live in? Did another space marine (or the young Night Lord) find her to live with or live nearby her, who also may or may not have his eyes on her too?

"OMG HIII!!! Curious about Spartak, eh? More so the 'reader,' but I don't blame you for the details. Details are good. I’m put this as a lil’ talk and a lil’ short story! :D" - Ichor

“Anything Done Is Going To Be Prior Of The Story.”

“@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000.” - Tagged

TW / Yandere, Hint Of Death.

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°|

Where did reader go I cannot really answer this one without spoiling too much. The best I can give you is somewhere where there isn’t a lot of other Astartes. Yet, you would think you would want to be in an area full of Marines, huh? Yeah, not you.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

How did they escape? Did they walk, drive, plane: They have escaped plenty of times by various ways: bus, running, taxi, hitchhiking… you name it.

One time, you were simply waiting for a bus. You form a bit shivering as you try to cuddle up into yourself from the midnight cold that bites at you through your clothing. You didn't have the best clothing before. You were... inexperienced on trying to ghost your own Astartes'. Not truly knowing the honesty of what those being could do until you find yourself experiencing it yourself. At least in very mild forms.

The hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stand up, and you're not sure if it was just because of the cold or not. Your eyes glancing up to look around you in the dark, seeing nothing but some flickering streetlights and an on-coming thunderstorm that occasionally flashes in the distance: near the mountains. Another sigh leaving you as you try and convince yourself that you were just being paranoid... Until you look in front of you, your heart stuttering in your chest.

There he was. Simply standing tall on the other side of the street, not even under a streetlight. His maroon armor almost blending into the shadows of the dark. That glowing visor of his being the only thing bright of him in the moment as he doesn't move, and that itself was eerie as hell.

How far did they go: Honestly? The farthest they went before was another (American) state. Only because you had a head start.

Again, you were very inexperienced on escaping at this point of time. So, you can't absolutely be sure that you have escaped, but it was just a mistake to learn within time as you give a sigh of relief. Believing that you could finally have a normal life without him stuffing you close to him whenever he can.

Your fingers press a button on a vending machine to simply get something to drink after a long travel of evading many things in the world. Your hands being stuffed into your jacket as you watch the machine work its magic on getting you what you have paid for before the disastrous thing decides to give you a strange whirr and gets stuck on the beverage it was trying to deposit to you.

Your grumble under your breath before you suddenly freeze. Your eyes scanning the reflection of the vending machine. Seeing a replica of him in it, just more faded. His helmet so close to the right side of your face, and you swear you could feel his quiet, heaving breaths on your skin.

How long did it take for her to find her: Didn’t take long for him to find out, and it didn’t take long for him to go into a rage and locate you as soon as possible.

For him to find out is not many things a human, even an Astarte's want. Weather he would be getting word or a certain milli second twang in his soul. He would not be happy despite his silence of trying not to fuck everything up in the area around him. You can just feel a dark, dangerous aura around him. Tis just best to leave the World Eater alone when he emits just an aura. Don't get in his way.

Why were they afraid: A bit of social phobia, but I’m having to leave this one alone for I would like to eventually make some past/lore stories.

~⚜️♞⚜️~

Did they find a city to live in: They don’t even have time to set up shop. They have to keep moving if they were to avoid him properly.

A bit further in with your expertise in escaping. Your figure jogging through a random, forest park. You have learned quite a few things. One of them being: never, stop, moving. It's a very critical decision to make, not only for your health (in good and bad ways,) but for your... sanity as well. You wish for a second of peace? Run. Run as fast as you can, maybe put a few evading tactics in there too.

Though, who truly could outrun an Astarte's?

You yelp as your suddenly picked up from the scruff. Your hands' extending out in surprise of such an action. Your neck abruptly titled in an opened angle as a cold metal meets your sensitive skin there. A low, almost growly purr escaping him while he inhales your scent through his own helmet. To any on lookers, this just looks like a mischievous marine annoying their bonded.

Did another marine find them, did they live with them: There was one marine, but they didn’t live long enough to make a nest with them…

Another marine has and they have offered you a friendly/platonic time within their nest. To this random Marine, you almost look like a... lost child to them. You're fidgety and look around yourself a lot as if you were looking for something, someone. Which should have been the first and only alarm bells for the Marine. The second would be your refusal because you know what he could do to them, and it wouldn't be long before you see this nice Marine disappear.

Do they have other admiring eyes on them: Oh, they do, but not many are stupid enough to challenge Spartak out of all Astarte's for your hand. Those who dare are quickly... eradicated or if they are lucky enough... a wounded pride and physicality would surffice.

[thatsbelievable]

[justdrawlynn11]

The first drawing…

When Moon carried Sun around the daycare when Sun was first made, Sun noticed other kids drawing friends and family and showing their parents. One day Sun decided he wanted to draw too and show Moon. Moon and Monty were his main caregivers, so he wanted to draw them… Moon’s never gotten rid of this drawing, no matter how ripped it got throughout the years.. no matter if Sun was or wasn’t alive anymore…

(LBS won this poll for me to draw today)

(Random fun fact: This is a redraw of a drawing I did of Moon from the night/possibly morning, after he... lost Sun a second time, here’s the first one since I never posted it-)

[starlightwoofwoof]

🍭💖✨ Yapping about Random Things from my SM x MLB AU : Kevin/The Sweetener Edition ✨💖🍭

that’s right, I wanna talk about the loser now (love how I talked about all of the Wage Gang first in this series lol)

Anyway, the first thing I wanna talk about is Kevin’s nightmares, which I have kinda ‘sneak peeked’ at in previous posts :3

Of course, as we’ve learned, Kevin seems to have some pretty spooky nightmares (not sure if they’re frequent or not, but he has nightmares) and just as he said in one of the Ask the SM x MLB AU posts, they keep happening. And not only that, they just got even stranger

Imma use the nightmare from Kevin’s Dream Job as an example here-

His nightmares go on as ‘normal’, until it reaches the point right before the future happens. The ‘time lapse’ abruptly stops and Kevin sees The Sweetener right in front of the Candy Club entrance. It’s unusually dark, and they just … stare at each other until The Sweetener starts his usual villain speech crap- (y’know, like, ‘I’m apart of you’, ‘You would be better off as me’, ‘You’ll always be a monster’, ‘You hate those kids, why are you still holding back’, etc etc)

Kevin doesn’t really know how to react during these nightmares, he usually either just stands there in shock, or he gets angry and defensive, especially when the kids are mentioned in that way-

Although, unfortunately, no matter how Kevin reacts, he usually ends up becoming The Sweetener or dying at the hands of him anyway ……….. 😀

(also fun fact : if I made this AU after Kevin’s Dream Job, I would’ve DEFINITELY made Kevin’s reason to become The Sweetener one of his nightmares- but I guess it’s too late to change that cause I already did Sweetener’s part of the fic 🥲)

(……… unlesssssss there’s some kind of alternative universe where he did- or maybe he could turn into The Sweetener again idk 😳)

okay enough of that uhhhh

Here’s an idea- soooo

I’ve kinda always had trouble figuring out what The Sweetener is even made of, I’ve always thought he was, like, some kind of weird form of bubblegum, or maybe even ice cream

but here’s another idea

what if he’s just made up of a bunch of melted bubblegum gummies

I mean, it could explain why he looks like he’s melting and all-

so yeah heh

Okay, to end this off, here’s a cute little fun fact I thought of

Radford helped Kevin think of his hero name (didn’t expect to see Prince Piggy in this too did you-)

Rad thought it would be a cool name and kind of help ‘deter’ people from thinking it’s Kevin, cause y’know, it was Radford’s idea-

okay I think that’s it- see you l8terrrrrr

[echo-the-artist]

Trigger warning! Mentions of death

What especially scares Petra the most is the fact she can very easily see herself in both perspectives. In Xara's place, She can imagine running towards Romeo, sword in hand with no regard for her own safety. She can imagine Romeo using his powers to lift her up... Imagine every painful second of her windpipe blocked and her lungs demanding air in desperation... And her final moments staring into the man wearing Jesse's face, using his voice and twisting it into something corrupted and wrong "Give my regards to your friends."

In Romeo's place, she can imagine herself killing Jesse, her closest friend, in cold blood, turning her back on everyone she ever cared about, even if her own reputation would be forever ruined. She still doesn't know if Romeo killed Fred on purpose or by accident but she doesn't care. The image still stands, as clear as glass, and she feels like a monster for it.

As Petra gazes down at her gauntlet, it's such a clear image. It's almost as though it could have actually been her instead... And with the path she was close to, she could have...

Inside Jack's ransacked map shop, another place ruined because of her Romeo, Petra is silent. Everyone is. They can't find the words.

"I can't believe Jesse just did that..." Olivia finally speaks up.

The fury that has been simmering in the pot, damn near overflowed. "That was. not. Jesse..." She wants to shout, but her words left in a low growl. Some part of her, still furious, desperately wanted to attack Olivia for so much as believing Jesse would ever do such a thing, but then the image of staring into Jesse's eyes while the warrior is in Romeo's place flickers and she's still once more.

"That... wasn't Jesse..." Petra repeats, shivering...

Romeo must pay, but She has to be smart about this now... Running towards Romeo, out in the open is a guaranteed death sentence, and knowing him, simply being spotted now can also lead to an untimely end. The book she found, the word of passage... The weapon Fred created, that's her last hope now.

[hmtaxidermy]

A fancy leggbird

[mylittlestims]

Day 9 of heartnosehalloween: something / someone you’d love to dress up as for halloween

(X) (X) (X)

(X) (X) (X)

(X) (X) (X)

[thatsbelievable]

[justdrawlynn11]

Loss is hard… no matter how many times you lose them…

Why did it have to be him..?

I can’t bring him back this time… and I hate that fact…

[kitty-silly]

"Do it again, do it again, Again and again"

alt vers under cut

[fluffclan]

Driftpaw,your father is Tansysplash?!

[fartemis-crock]

in relation to this mandatory ship nonsense

i just need one ONE singular ship in a verse where Artemis is a widow to have the dumbest argument of

SB: "your husband? you didn't think to mention you're MARRIED?" Artemis: "yeah to a dead guy??? I didn't think it was relevant???"

bc she will simply just refer to cameron as her husband with absolutely no context out of nowhere

[myra-the-ishkia]

F,M,K with Basilio, Fidelio and Louis

"Y-You're going to make me pick..!?"

Truly, she should have seen this coming. Myra looked down at the ground in deep contemplation, weighing choices and consequences on multiple scales all at the same time. What was only a few minutes felt like an hour....Before she sighed and looked back up.

"Please, d-don't tell any of them I said this, but...Ffffff...Ahem, bed Fidelio, marry Basilio, and kill Lord Louis." She rubbed her arm as she spoke, then looked down once more before muttering, "..Choosing between those two is so hard.."

[the-snake-and-the-statue]

"Achilles??"

Odette knocks on his door, trying to not slam their fists against it like most people normally need to in order to grab his attention from in there.

Achilles doesn't open the door. They knock again, a bit louder. This time, the familiar click and creak sound out from the inside as the door opens and light penetrates the shadows inside.

The two stand nearly face to face as he looks up at them and slowly blinks, expression void as ever. Odette crosses their arms.

"Yume's garden is missing. She is distraught and currently looking everywhere for it.... And you, as you were the last to accompany her. Hexe destroyed the garden, yes?"

He nods.

"Do you know where it is?"

Achilles hesitates before opening up the door more and stepping aside.

Odette steps into the room; this is probably their third least favorite room, given the tower it's in and how closely it resembles the dungeon. His bed looks like it's been made but slept on top of for years. There's dust covering the few pieces of furniture, and the chandelier above is shattered.

The only true source of is the candle on the desk, which flickers gently and reveals flashes of green and pink to Odette. Their eyes widen in surprise.

"After Hexe destroyed it, I figured perhaps I still could fix it for Yume. I used to do that a lot, in the real world," he mutters, walking over to his chair and sitting down. Odette reluctantly follows, the uneven, rocky ground serving awfully for their balance.

Achilles uses a spoon to shovel some dirt up, before placing one of the mini trees back into place and packing the dirt back around it. He covers the patch with a little moss, making sure it fades well into the rest of the ground.... Odette can see sections of the wall where he scraped the moss from.

The two sit in silence as Achilles continues to work... Odette hasn't seen him engage in anything like this since before Hexe, and even then they're sure that back then he would have laughed it off as 'childish' or 'unimportant.'

"Are you just going to watch or are you going to yell at me for what I said to Yume?"

"That was my initial idea, yes. But yelling has never really had an effect on you. By now I am plenty sure you know what you did was wrong and are ashamed."

Achilles nods, a bitter undertone washing through his blank face as Odette sits on the bed..... they note that compared to their own, it feels like wood.

"Truly, I just.... I simply do not understand, and I doubt anyone in this kingdom could. Just because she has the understanding of an adult does not mean you can vent to her as one, she is still a child."

Another silent nod.

"You have been unwilling to tell most about this, in fact as far as I know she and maybe 'her' are the only ones who know. Hexe found out by incident, if I remember correctly. Yet you turn around and tell the one member of the kingdom who you absolutely should NOT be telling any of that stuff! What were you thinking, unloading such weight on a child?"

"........"

"Well???"

"I didn't realize what I did until she left. I got lost in my mind, in the words. It's not an excuse, I understand that, but once I started, I...... I couldn't stop myself."

Odette looks out at the blocked out window, covered by bricks that don't match the rest of the interior.

"I think she heard it as well."

"..... heard what?"

"The sounds."

"What sounds?"

"The sounds of the crash."

As soon as the word 'crash' leaves his mouth, Odette's ears prick to something distant and hollow..... screaming. No.... squealing?

"What was that?" They look around frantically, confused.

"That was one of the sounds," Achilles replies, staring at the almost finished garden in front of him. He sets down his tools and faces Odette.

Odette feels a shiver run down their spine. They hadn't heard a sound like that since they were young...... what was it again, what was it.....

Suddenly they realize.

Tires.

"..... Achilles. Tell me what happened. Tell me now."

"You'll hear all the sounds as well. You won't look at me the same way. It's not pretty."

"I often attempt to refrain from talking about this, but I have experienced many harsh trials in my life, Achilles, that I would say have brought me resilience to hearing of most things. I do not take pride in that, per say, but I know if no one else can listen know, I certainly can. Perhaps it would help you-"

He gives them a skeptical, annoyed glance.

".... alright, maybe it would not help... but it would ensure you are not carrying such a burden fully alone. Someone would understand a bit more."

He's quiet for a long, long time. Odette holds their breath, both hoping and dreading to know this information. Maybe it's much worse than they thought.

"... I don't know where to start."

Their heart skips as they simultaneously sigh a breath of relief. This is actually going to happen.

Achilles speaks up again before Odette can. "You had a family, correct?"

".... I did, yes."

He closes his eyes. "I was getting ready to start one with my wife."

".... you had a wife?"

Achilles nods and looks up at the ceiling, leaning back in his chair. "... Galene. We met at college, and she was my tutor at first. I always was working through life, quickly, feeling like I had to do something.... but not with Galene. The silent moments in each others' company were worth more than the world, more than the galaxy, more than every star in the night sky. Her company settled the waves of thoughts crashing into my mind into calm, elegant seas that were still hardly comparable to her grace and tranquil nature."

He smiles, such a lovesick yet heartbroken grin filling his face. "The day we got married, I sobbed at the altar, watching her walk down the aisle with that shy, loving grin that I always wanted to be the cause of. I wanted to give everything to her, and I worshipped the very ground she walked on and the air she breathed. No amount of words in any language could describe her and the peace she brought to my life."

Odette looks up at the shattered chandelier as Achilles describes Galene..... he talks with more pure love and emotion than he had ever once expressed. She can almost feel that calm presence he spoke so highly of, easing the room around them.

His smile grows more.

"And then...... we found out we were expecting."

Odette's eyes light up, forgetting the heaviness of the situation for a moment. "You were going to have a child?!"

Achilles chuckles, thinking back on the memory fondly.

"I was about your age, 32. Seeing the test and Galene's smile was the second greatest day of my life.... doctors said it would be a miracle if she would be able to have a child. Our praises to the heavens and gods above that day were endless. We were going to be parents. I was going to be a father."

Odette feels their smile grow.... he was married. And a to-be father.

....

Was.

His smile starts to fade. Odette hears something in their ears again.... the low, nostalgic hum of a car.... followed by some faded voices.

"We learned we were going to have a girl... me, Galene, and her sister Maharene, all in the ultrasound room. Maharene was more like me. She was loud and confident and oh so protective of her sister.... a fighter. Never afraid to speak her mind... we fought sometimes, but she ended up being my best friend."

They nod slightly as one of the voices grow clear.

"@;#>@^×, keep your eyes on the road!"

"We were driving home from the clinic where we learned our baby's gender... and I was talking with my friends. They wanted to meet up for drinks and games at our favorite bar that night."

"Were you... calling them?"

"No.... texting."

Odette felt their blood run cold. They had forgotten what texting was until that point.... and also the horrors of what happened when people texted and drove.

They suddenly realize what must have happened. Suddenly, knowing this doesn't feel like such a good idea anymore.

A flash of green passes by in Odette's vision, as Achilles closes his eyes. He barely seems to realize they're there anymore, just talking to no one in particular.

"Texting while driving was the one habit Galene couldn't get me to fix, I thought I was a natural. Maharene nearly slapped the phone out of my hand that day. Galene stopped her but kept telling me to get off the phone. I didn't. I kept trying to make plans with my friends."

Odette blinks slowly, and the vision of a car interior down a road fills their mind. The voices are louder and clearer.

"@;#>@^×, get off the damn phone, you almost hit that lady!!!"

"Please, you can message them when you get home, just- please- get off the phone!"

"And I didn't."

The pleading gets louder, as well as the sounds of the car.... Odette feels their breath escape them and mind grow dizzy. They feel like they can't open their eyes, and every direction looks wrong and distorted. Somewhere in the distance, they hear Hexe's taunting laughter.

"I didn't see the intersection. And I didn't notice the red light as I typed out my message."

"HONEY- PLEASE!!!"

"@;#>@^× PAY FUCKING ATTENTION!!!"

Odette sees the shape of a large pickup truck appear from the right side of the vision.... it appears so fast they hardly have time to react.

"@;#>@^×!!!!"

*CRASH*

......

.....

....

...

..

.

Odette gasps as the vision vanishes, not realizing they were blocking their right side. It ended right as the truck made contact.... right as the crash rang out. It looked so real. It sounded so real. It felt so real.

Hexe cackles loudly from afar, a bitter sound added to the ringing in their ears. They look over to see Achilles staring straight ahead at the wall, tears rolling down his horrified face.

"The next thing I see is Galene with half her head missing, and her stomach burst open.... something with one of the truck parts stabbed right through her. Her lap was a mess of guts and what I assumed was Halia..... for once, I didn't recognize her."

His voice is low and dry, as if forcing his vocal cords to work.

"I killed everyone in that crash. The driver.... Maharene... Galene and our daughter. Everyone. I was the only one who lived. And I spent half our savings trying to save any one of them.... but they were all dead on impact."

"It led to prison for 8 years. During that time, everyone in our hometown learned of what happened. I lost everything. Everyone left me. My family. My friends. My job. The rest of our savings. Everything and everyone."

Achilles looks down, voice catching on a sob as he stares at his hands.

"They told me to stop. They told me to put it away. It was only a 20-minute drive, I could have waited. But I didn't. I didn't listen."

Odette feels sick to their stomach. They don't have a good response.... how does one even go about responding to such a thing?

"I think she left me in the afterlife.... I don't feel Galene around me anymore. The silence is just.... silence. No comfort. No love. Just a deafening reminder of what I did. Only reason I didn't kill myself and join her was because it all felt too.... easy. I didn't deserve to see my family again like that. I couldn't."

Odette swallows back a cry and whispers, barely audible.

"... how did you... end up here then? You didn't remember anything when you got here, right?"

Achilles somewhat realizes Odette is still listening. He's a bit surprised they're still there.

"No. I heard that one of my coworkers, who died a while back, his son had taken this job and gone missing... heard sketchy things about that company, figured it was time to die and I'd let them choose how to do it. Not like anyone would care if I disappeared. So I went in, faked some things, got the job."

"The day they put the headset on, I was on some pills that fuck with memory for a bit. Guess it fucked with the headset too.... 'cause I was back to how I was. And I couldn't remember a damn thing."

Odette nods. They remember how Achilles used to be..... bold, brave, loud, confident, cocky... some would even say a bit insufferable. He still played his role of "hero" perfectly, helping people however they needed and not resting until the job was complete. He and Icia shared that sentiment with each other.

"How did you remember...? Was it because of Hexe?"

"No. Dunite."

Odette's quiet for a moment.

".... Dunite?"

"I was curious to know. Everyone was talking about their old lives and... I couldn't remember any of mine. So I asked if she could do something about it.... she could. And she did. Remembering everything all at once was probably worse than any punishment Hexe could dish out."

"I've tried every way under the sun to undo that spell. You've seen the extremes I've resorted to." He stares at his wrists, faded scars along the length of his forearms. "Though, now that you know, can you really blame me...? You'd want to die too if you were forever subjected to remembering the worst mistake of your life, over and over, every minute of every day. You stop fearing seeing your victims in heaven and just want to go to your punishment in hell."

Achilles stares ahead, tears falling onto the greenery of the garden. All the emotion is completely overwhelming him, talking about such an event in depth after so long of keeping silent.

"Every day... every hour... every minute.... every second. I just remember it all and ask myself why. Why didn't I listen...? Why did I think it'd be fine...?"

"Why did I do it....?"

Odette says nothing.

Achilles adds the finishing touches to the restored garden. "Look... I'm not sorry for hiding this, but I am sorry for letting it spiral into this. Yume didn't deserve to hear all of that..... neither did you, although you were persistent. I wish you weren't, It doesn't benefit anyone in any way..... though, I suppose someone understanding a little more makes this kingdom feel a little more like something of a home again. A little less foreign and cold.... even if that's really all this place is now.

"......."

He picks up the garden and turns in Odette's direction without looking up at them. "You should probably bring this back to Yume now...... she didn't deserve to hear all of that. She's a child. Doesn't matter her maturity.... I shouldn't have told her any of that, and I'm hoping this can serve as something of an apology to her. She'll probably know that it was me. She always knows."

He finally looks up at Odette. They're staring at him with the widest, most heartbroken eyes he's ever seen on another person, face stained with blackish tears that soak into their shaking hands folded in their lap. They shake as they swallow a little, trying to hide the sheer devastation on their face. It's a sight that catches Achilles very, very off guard.

"..... Ode...?"

They glance away and wipe their tears with a hand, taking a few shaky breaths and nodding.

"... I'm alright."

"... No, you're not. Don't hide it. No one is okay just... hearing all that. Especially when they see and hear exactly what I'm talking about."

They look back up at him, fresh tears taking their place down their face. Achilles gives them a grief-filled smile. A smile of no happiness, no joy.... simply hollow, dead, unending pain and grief.

"..... I'm so sorry, Achilles. I'm so sorry for you and your wife and y-your daughter and...." They try to continue before their voice catches on a sob, and Achilles holds up a hand.

He shakes his head. "Be sorry for them.... not for me. It's my burden. This is...." He lowers his head, tears lightly plinking against the stone ground. "This is my fault, and my consequence. It doesn't make up for what I did... but if I can't get them back, what's the point of trying to make it better....? It won't get better. I've accepted that. You should, too... being sad over me won't make a difference. Just gives you one more thing to worry about."

He offers them a hand, and after a few seconds, they take it and stand uneasily. Achilles carefully places the fixed garden in their arms.

"Bring this to Yume.... she'll appreciate it."

"... what about you?"

"I'll do what I always do. Like I said, talking about this doesn't make it better for me. Just makes the memories a bit louder," he replies.

They nod and look down at the garden.... it looks good as new. Even the fish are alright and happy.

".... are you going to be alright?"

".... in due time, yes. Will you...?"

"I suppose as okay as I can be." He still has tears slowly rolling down his face. "Go see Yume now.... she's probably looking for you. And one more thing.... please don't tell anyone. This is one bit of gossip I don't want getting to Mirobelle and the twins."

They nod slightly; not that they would even think of letting such a private, horrifying secret reach anyone else's ears. After a few seconds, Odette sets the garden on the bed and approaches Achilles, pulling him into a hug.

He noticeable freezes in their arms as a choked sob escapes their lips.... the hug only lasts a few seconds before they pull back and attempt to smile at him.... it's more like a grimace.

".... farewell for now, Achilles. T-thank you for this talk... I... I hope to see you again soon."

They pick up the garden once more and walk out of the room, desperately trying to stop their tears as the light from the hallway almost blinds them.

Achilles just stares at the open door for a few seconds before looking down at the ground.

A small chuckle escapes his mouth.

It turns into heavy laughter.

And then melts into agonizing, mournful sobs as he falls to his knees, the blunt force of memories whaling on his mind.

(I'm sorry... I'm sorry..... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry....)

Achilles continues to wail out for his lost family, alone in his room, wishing for nothing more than to undo what was done or pay the cost for it with his life.

A price he will never be able to pay.

Meanwhile, the sound of heavy footsteps walking away from the hall rings out from an unknown location.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Home Sweet Home AU: Martyrdom

Thatcher gets a late night call from an unknown number, saying they have something they need to discuss.

TW: blood, mentions of/implied character death

Notes: around 3'800 words long, being the shortest HSH fic so far. I don't have much to add here, but hope you like it!

February 12th, 1995. 10:24 PM.

Thatcher was awoken that night by the sound of his cell phone ringing in his office.

He couldn’t recall falling asleep on his couch, lying on a pile of discarded papers and dirty clothes. If he had to guess, it was due to exhaustion and/or sleep deprivation, though he could barely remember anything aside from staring at the wall for an hour or so. He groggily sat up, holding his head and wincing when an all-too-familiar headache pounded in his skull. Everything felt sore, with his right shoulder feeling as if it was ripped out of socket again. He looked down at his shoulder, pulling away his shirt to see that his collar bone was still pressing against his skin awkwardly, causing a bump in his shoulder. He sighed, remembering the reason he no longer laid on his side as he tried to ignore the deep pain shooting from it.

Oh right. The phone.

Thatcher stood up, letting out a deep, somewhat annoyed groan as he made his way to his office, pushing open the door to see the phone on his desk. He stood still for a moment, pondering whether or not he should simply let it ring and go to voicemail. Despite his best efforts not to care, he sighed in defeat and answered the phone, expecting to hear the sound of one of his co-worker’s voice, telling him to come into the station for some late-night incident or something.

“Thatcher Davis, MCP—”

“I already know who you are.”

A familiar voice, though not one that felt necessarily comforting in that regard.

“Who is this?” Thatcher furrowed his brows, absentmindedly beginning to pace back and forth in his office.

“That doesn’t matter right now.” The man on the other end of the phone stated. “St. Gabriel’s Church, as soon as possible. I need to talk to you.”

Thatcher paused in place, staring at the floor before speaking quietly yet urgently. “…I won’t do that until you tell me who is speaking.”

Silence for a moment.

“You know me.” The man said. “You ruined my life.”

“…I d—”

“Meet me at the church, tonight.” The man commanded. “This is an urgent matter. I’ll be waiting in the west bell-tower.”

The caller hung up, leaving Thatcher in a confused haze as it attempted to figure out who it was, or why the voice was familiar. The man’s somewhat raspy, yet desperate-sounding voice resonated in his head, despite the concern and almost fear of taking the call. He stood in place, staring at his phone before flipping it shut and shoving it into his pants pocket. He took in a breath as he silently approached his desk, opening a drawer and seeing nothing but junk inside. He brushed it all away before he finally found what he was looking for; his pistol. He grabbed it, checking the magazine to see that it was loaded before looking back into the drawer and fishing out his gun holster. He threw the holster over his left shoulder before sliding his gun into it, deciding not to change into a better outfit aside from his worn jeans and faded, oversized shirt.

He walked back into his living room in silence, grabbing his grey, shabby trench coat before pulling it over his arms. He tried to ignore how it too was oversized, nor the fact that he had received it as a gift from a friend, despite it being a reminder of her every time he wears it. Perhaps it was a good thing to be reminded of her. He snapped out of his train of thought, realizing he stopped moving for a second before he finally walked into his kitchen, grabbing a pair of leather gloves to somewhat protect his thin hands from the cold. He let out a deep breath as he grabbed his keys and headed for the front door, pausing as he turned his head to look behind him. He looked towards the dining room table, one that had multiple chairs despite no one coming over. On it was nothing but a single police radio, resting in the middle of it. Thatcher stared at it for a moment, pondering whether he wanted to take it, just in case, before he decided against it. He shook his head, walking through the front door into the night, only hoping he wasn’t walking into another trap.

He at least had some comfort in knowing he had a weapon.

11:03 PM

Thatcher wished the radio in his car worked as he drove down the dark, damp road to the church. The sound of his barely functioning heater blowing through the vents was the only sound that even remotely replaced the music that would’ve been playing, though it wasn’t enough to drown out much of anything. Thatcher stared forward, seeing the snow-covered trees pass by on the sides of the road, along with the snow landing on his windshield. He glanced at his right hand, wishing he could just take a break and scratch where his prosthetic rubbed against his skin under his glove, though he decided that getting the call over with was better; at the very least it meant he could go to sleep earlier.

If he’d be able to go home at all.

After all, he was working off of the assumption that the man on the other end of the phone was a human; a real person that knew Thatcher in the past and genuinely wanted to talk about something important. Thatcher felt a sense of uncertainty wash over it as it turned down a gravel road, wondering if he was going to be lucky again and that if the man wasn’t who, or rather what, he claims to be, the gun pressed against its left set of ribs would be enough to scare it off. Though perhaps Thatcher was stupid to think it was capable of being lucky.

Thatcher slowed to a stop when it saw the tall steel gate that led into the church property, barely seeing the church behind it through the trees and snow. Light from the lamp-posts bled into the gravel lane as Thatcher exited its car, looking around before approaching the gate and pushing it open, happy to see it was unlocked. After he swung the gates to the side, hearing the shrill squeaking coming from its hinges, he jogged back to his car, hopping inside and slamming the door shut. He glanced into his rearview mirror, checking that his back seat was vacant before he drove through the gate, finally driving onto asphalt as he pulled into the large parking lot.

He parked in one of the spaces, seeing a short fence between him and the church in front of his car. He exited his car, locking it before shoving his keys in his pocket and staring up at the towering cathedral before him. It had two large wooden doors at its entrance, along with a giant circular, stained-glass window above it, with many smaller circles surrounding it. A large, metal cross was to the left side of the entrance, seemingly rusted despite the church still being active from what Thatcher remembered. He looked up towards the slanted roof, seeing two giant bell towers, with one to the right, and one to the left, reaching towards the pitch-black sky. Thatcher couldn’t help but notice the pit in his gut he felt looking up at the giant building; it almost felt like vertigo, despite not looking down. He shook his head, letting out a breath as he turned to the right, following the fence towards concrete staircase that led down to the entrance. As he walked, a figure stared at him from the west bell tower, watching him as Thatcher walked towards the entrance, pushing the heavy doors open and walking inside.

The first thing Thatcher noticed aside from the deafening silence was the vastness of the inside of the church. It had a domed roof, with painted patterns on the walls. He looked forward, his shoes clacking against the marble floors as he looked around. Lines of pews ran down both sides of him, all facing a stage to the front of the room, one with a large organ front and center.

“Hello?” Thatcher called, his voice echoing off of the tall walls. “Thatcher Davis, MCPD. You called me here?”

No answer aside from his own voice reflecting back at him. He looked to his left, seeing a few archways that led to other parts of the church, deciding it was the best place to start looking for a way into the west tower, like the man had said to meet him. He walked in between pews and walked through one of the archways, being met with a hall that led into a few smaller rooms. However, when he looked to the left, he saw a stairwell, one he presumed to lead into the tower. He paused, thinking of the inevitable pain his knees were going to feel before beginning to scale the stairs.

He walked, further and further up into the dimly lit tower as he pushed his trench coat to the side, exposing his holster and firearm in preparation in case something other than a human was up there. He could smell dust and an overall musty smell as he pushed open the small door above him that led into the belfry, poking his head into the room to see a small electric lantern in the corner, lighting up the room. Thatcher huffed, pushing the door to the side, letting it clatter off of the floor as he hoisted himself up into the room. The belfry was larger than he expected it would be, with one large, brass bell hanging in the middle of the room. He looked around, seeing a large, arched window in front of him, with the cool wind hitting his face as he approached it.

“You actually came.”

Thatcher turned around quickly, the voice startling him enough to instinctively hold his hand close to his firearm. He turned towards one of the corners, seeing a man leaned against the wall, holding his arms close to his torso, clearly cold despite wearing a thick, turtleneck sweater. Thatcher looked up at the man’s face, his intense stare and low brows feeling familiar, though it took a few moments for Thatcher’s mind to finally connect the dots.

Arthur.

“Mr. Heathcliff.” Thatcher stated, almost surprised to see the man after so long.

Arthur’s eyes had dark rings around him, and his blank, yet irritated stare didn’t wane. “Lieutenant.” He responded, as if saying the word was some sort of profanity.

“Why did you call me here?” Thatcher questioned as Arthur stepped away from the wall, approaching Thatcher yet keeping his distance.

“I needed to…talk about some things.” Arthur said. “With you.”

“How did you even get my number?”

“Asked around.”

Thatcher remained silent, not super confident that who he was looking at was human like it seemed.

“…It’s…quiet tonight, isn’t it?” Arthur stated, looking through the window, past the parking lot and towards the lights in the distance from the town.

“What are you even doing up here?” Thatcher questioned, standing beside Arthur as he stares at the priest with a look of mild annoyance.

“It has the best view.” Arthur stated simply. “I come up here to…get my mind off of things, y’know?”

Thatcher gazed out into the distance through the window; Arthur was right about the view being nice at least, though it was hard to make out anything outside of the light from the lamp-posts.

“Though tonight, I couldn’t help but think.” Arthur continued, turning to face Thatcher with the same, almost angry look in his eyes he’s had the entire time. “…It’s been…what, nearly 3 years now?”

“…Since what?”

“…Since Mark went missing.”

The mention of the Mark Heathcliff case sent a shock to Thatcher’s system, making him skip a breath. He couldn’t respond, with an all-too familiar feeling of dread and guilt beginning to creep up inside of him.

“I’ve…been thinking about it…nonstop lately.” Arthur explained. “And I just…is he…dead, or not?”

Thatcher remained silent, staring at Arthur with a tinge of sadness added to his tired stare.

“…Well?” Arthur appeared impatient. “Is he?”

“We did all we could.” Thatcher stated, trying to cover up the uncertainty in his voice. “We…never found anything.”

“…Of course.” Arthur said under his breath, barely audible enough for Thatcher to hear.

Thatcher felt the weight of the thick air of guilt and anger around him, with the silence making it feel heavier than ever. Arthur crossed his arms, looking through the window as he thought to himself.

“…God teaches to…forgive and forget.” Arthur said quietly. “To love thy neighbor…to forgive thine enemies.” Arthur turned towards Thatcher, his face barely lit by the light outside and the light from the lantern. “But for some reason I can’t bring myself to forgive you.”

“I’m not asking to be forgiven.” Thatcher responded plainly. “…I understand what—”

“No, you don’t.” Arthur glared at Thatcher, lowering his arms as he faced the lieutenant. “Do you know how much I’ve lost? Mark runs off, and because of that, I lose the only people in my life that matter.” Arthur paused, taking in a deep breath. “…Leah and Sarah moved to Bythorne recently, you know that? Left me here…to just…rot. To try and figure out how to…fix all this.”

“I tried to help you and your family the best I could,” Thatcher responded. “I’ve done all I possibly could to try and solve this case, but I’ve already told you, we found nothing.”

“Right.” Arthur nodded, though it didn’t feel genuine. “So you ignoring the many disappearances in this town and brushing everything under the rug is you giving your all?”

Thatcher couldn’t even get a word in as Arthur continued.

“I’ve tried to forget about this; to move on and just live my life the way the Lord above wants me to,” Arthur stepped towards Thatcher, who backed away a few steps. “But it keep coming back to me, ALL of this. I’m trying to keep up a sense that I’m alright even though everything in my life is falling apart, all because you couldn’t do your God damned job.”

“You don’t think I’ve given everything to solving this case?” Thatcher snapped back.

“You failed to find him, Davis.” Arthur accused. “You barely did anything to help aside from twiddle your thumbs and take some of Mark’s junk. At least the other cop tried to help Leah as she went through the worst event of her life; but what did you do?”

“Arthur, you don’t understa—”

“I’ve lost more than you could ever know due to your negligence,” Arthur interrupted, standing in front of the window, the light from outside hitting his back. “I lost Leah, and now I won’t even be able to see my own daughter grow up. All because you didn’t do anything to he—”

“Ruth is dead because of this case.”

Thatcher felt the words leave his mouth, his tone sour and hateful. Arthur appeared to pause for a moment, at least giving Thatcher time to speak. “At least…that’s what everyone else thinks. She…I lost her, and…I don’t know where she went. I tried my fucking hardest to fix things, but now only more people are gone because of it. Arthur, I know what it’s like to lose what’s closest to you because I’ve gone through the same thing.”

Silence fell between the two, leaving them to stare at each other in a hateful silence. At least, until Arthur started speaking again.

 “…All I want is to have my family back, yet you won’t even help me with that.” Arthur continued. “If you find Mark…then maybe I’d be able to have it back—”

“You talk about Mark like he’s a burden.” Thatcher stated. “Like he’s just a prop that will fix everything in your life. Do you truly even care about him?”

Arthur stood in shocked silence, staring at Thatcher with an appalled stare for a tad too long for comfort.

“Do you?” Thatcher questioned. “Or did you just want to make another you.”

“I did.” Arthur claimed. “I…I did love him. He was my son; you think I didn’t love my own flesh and blood?”

“I never got the impression that you did.”

“God damn you, Davis.” Arthur said quietly. “I hope God will have mercy on your soul.”

“I’m not religious.”

“You bastard.” Arthur said, his tone hateful as he clenched his fists. “I’ve tried all I could, and I can only hope God will forgive me for having the hate I feel towards you. This town is in shambles because of you! All because you refuse to help those you claim to protect!”

Arthur stepped towards Thatcher, who stood his ground as he grew closer.

“If you won’t do anything, I will.” Arthur claimed. “And I know that God will reign by the end of this! I know that these ‘alternates’ will cower away from his light! And by the end you will be left alone, all because of your own mistakes!”

“Get away from me.” Thatcher growled as Arthur continued to step closer.

“By God, I’ll show everyone just how much of a coward you are!” Arthur yelled. “You failed to help the vulnerable, and now you will suffer the consequences of your actions!”

“Step BACK!” Thatcher shoved Arthur away with one of his arms before turning away. He went to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of a surprised yell behind him. He swung around, seeing that Arthur was gone, leaving only an empty, cold room behind. He heard screaming outside of the window, fading away for a second before he heard the sound of a sickening crack that sent a chill up Thatcher’s spine.

Its wide eyes stared at the open arched window in silence. Its face was a shade paler, with its eyes unblinking and its jaw slack. He couldn’t even believe just what happened, wondering if it was just a dream or nightmare. It went to fast for him to even process the events that transpired, with all that was left being a feeling of pure shock and a rapidly beating heart.

Thatcher couldn’t even bring himself to move as he stared at the open window, with the silence feeling all encompassing, choking out whatever words Thatcher could possibly say. He stumbled backwards, looking down to see the trapdoor leading into the stairwell before he silently, yet hesitantly, began stepping down the stairs, shutting the trapdoor above him.

As he frantically descended the stairwell, only one thought ran through his head, over and over like a skipping record: “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” He couldn’t even process what he was feeling as he entered the auditorium, running into the middle aisle before rushing towards the front doors. He froze when he reached them, staring at the wood before he pressed down his sudden pensiveness and pushed open the door.

He walked out of the church in silence, staring at the pavement, feeling as if he couldn’t even force himself to look to his right in fear of what he’d see when he did. It continued to stare at its feet before forcing itself to look up and forward, his eyes not blinking once despite the growing stinging feeling from the cold. He turned to his left, walking up the stairs to get to the parking lot, staring at the ground as he walked to his car. He unlocked the driver’s side door, opening it and stepping into his car as he silently stared at nothing in particular. He started the vehicle, finally looking out his windshield, staring towards the bottom of the west tower. He froze, staring at the crimson blood dripping onto the pure white snow from above. He quickly looked away, hands trembling as he grasped the steering wheel. He drove out of the parking lot the fastest he could. He knew the guilt of what happened was going to take hold of him later on, but at that moment, he thought of nothing more than going home and trying to grasp the situation.

All he knew was he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon.

February 13th, 7:16 AM.

Thatcher blankly stared forward, his mouth covered by his hand as the light from the television reflected off of his wide open, bloodshot eyes. He sat in a dark living room, all the curtains pulled over the windows and the lights off. He watched, not blinking once as the news program played in front of his face.

“—Right now we are following the breaking news at the St. Gabriel’s church, where the priest of aforementioned church, Arthur Heathcliff was found dead on the property just this morning. Our reporters are at the scene now, with the most up-to-date news on the situation.”

The camera changed to shots of the church from a distance as another broadcaster spoke over the footage.

“We are currently at the St. Gabriel’s church, right on the border of Werksha and Mandela county, where a nearby home-owner reported that they heard screaming at around 11:45 last night. The scene is closed to the public until further notice, with the circumstances of the death remaining unkno—”

Click.

Thatcher shut off the Television, delving the room into near complete darkness. He stared at the black screen, his breath quiet and his mind blank. He was going to be called about this as soon as he went to work; he knew it. He didn’t move from his spot on the couch, instead hunching over and clasping his hair with his hands. He thought to himself, wondering how many more people were going to die due to his own mistakes; how many more people were going to suffer while he was on the force. The image of Arthur’s body, hanging from where it was impaled on a metal cross was burned in Thatcher’s mind, refusing to leave no matter how hard he tried to get it out. He hadn’t slept the previous night, remembering the hauntingly vacant stare and look of horror on the body’s face.

He couldn’t. He just couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t handle being the cause of more and more pain and death. The next time he went to work would be his last. Thatcher was a coward, and now, he knew it, so the only option he felt would help people, was to quit. He was sorry; so deeply sorry for everything he did, and everything he failed to do. He just hoped the next lieutenant would be better than he was.

He was no lieutenant, just a scared boy with a gun.

How ironic.

[dramioneasks]

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