#tw: implied threat

[selineram3421]

*sleepy*

Courting Pursuit

Part 2

Part 1

Alastor X Deer Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ gender neutral (gn) reader, mule deer reader, assuming Alastor is a marsh deer, Spanish translated, stalking-Vox, cussing, implied/suggestive, italics=thoughts, ha..watch out for the end ⚠

You continued to act affectionate towards him.

Even the others noticed and most of them would often ask you to do their work if it was related to him.

Niffty doesn't care and does her work as usual.

The thing is, you don't mind one bit and take up the work.

"Hola Alastor.", you'd greet him every time.

Today you were helping someone else, Husk to be exact, putting away some bottles in storage.

And then he heard that obnoxious voice of the sad excuse of an entertainment performer through his radio next to the television shop, Vox.

"Top of the hour! Today I have a special little treat for you, though the image is sadly glitched out, you can still see what is going on in the photo.", he says. "It's the Radio Demon, receiving an affectionate peck on the forehead from another deer!"

What a creeper. Alastor rolled his eyes and waited for the perfect moment to jump in and make the flat headed piece of tech look like a complete fool.

"From the looks of things, Alastor has a fuck buddy.", the TV demon grinned. "Wouldn't be surprised if he was taking it from behind.", he laughed and continued to rant on about innuendos like an idiot.

Turning a few knobs and flipping some switches, the Radio Demon was live.

"Salutations!", he greeted his listeners. "What an interesting start to the day! An overly cocky man acting like a news anchor when he doesn't have all the facts!", his smile widens. "For a demon asking his viewers to trust him, it's quite bold that he so blatantly lies to their faces."

"That's bullshit! I only provide the best-"

"Vox is so insecure and craving for attention from a powerful Overlord like myself, it's obvious that he's jealous.", Alastor laughed.

"Am fucking not you old timey prick-!"

"Why would he make such an announcement if not for that? Its clear to me that he wants someone to focus on him all the time.", he chuckles. "No wonder he always something new on his screens. But they lack so much that he has to resort to childish news broadcasts to seem important."

"Childish!?"

"As for the demon in the photo, that is a hotel guest and they do not understand English that much. There was a misunderstanding in translation and well..I'm not allowed to kill hotel guests.", then his voice switches. "This does not mean that I will let such an action pass, I will do something mμc# ￦θrs€ than death."

"You lying piece of shit! Tell me them the truth!"

"I should announce that the Hazbin Hotel has its doors open for all sinners who want a shot at redemption! Try to climb your way out of this fiery inferno, some might try to drag you back down, or you'll have trouble all on your own trying to redeem yourself! Anything is possible!", he put in his two bits for advertising the hotel. "And with that my wonderful listeners, I shall bid you all adieu~"

He switched on some jazz, not wanting to hear anymore of Vox's whining.

Something still irked him however..

Perhaps I should pay Rosie another visit. He thought. This time without them knowing.

As soon as he walked through the door of the emporium, his friend waved him over and pointed to her office, letting him know that she'd be there soon.

Once entering the office, he sighed and sat on the couch, already tired of what else would happen later in the day. He didn't want any other unnecessary conversations.

Rosie entered the office not too long after, setting her hat aside as she closed the door.

"You won't believe the gossip I've stumbled across today. Betty, the one with the pooch, not the one with the scar. She-", the woman started but then took notice of his mood. "What's wrong? You look worn out already."

"I don't know what to do with them. Vox, that piece of shit tech, has already made comments but I already put him in his place.", he sighed and ran a hand down his face.

"I heard.", Rosie let out a short laugh.

"The deer is still doing things, not as bold as the first time but I don't want them near me. It's-", he growled and made a choking motion with his hands.

"If it's bothering you that much, you know you can tell them to stop.", she says.

He looks up at her with a wide eyed stare.

She dead pans.

"Alastor. You know you can tell them to stop. Right?"

"The thought hadn't crossed my mind.", he simply says.

"Oh for crying out loud-!", she tosses a pillow at him. "You are unbelievable! Go and speak your mind! You've never had a problem with it before!"

She was right. Why had he been so bothered about something like this?

He should have spoken up about it from the start.

It was late when he returned to the hotel. The lobby was empty and he could only assume that everyone had long been asleep. Walking to the dining room, he spots the kitchen light on.

Angel is probably making an abomination of a hangover cure- He thought and opened the door, only to find the mule deer leaning against the counter half asleep.

You perk up when noticing him.

"Bienvenido. Hice la cena y te guardé un plato.", you wave and smile. (Welcome back. I made dinner and saved you a plate.)

"What are you doing up at this hour? Granted, it is Hell and there are barely any rules around here, sleep is still important.", he says as you pick up a plate covered with tin foil.

Taking off the foil, you give him a plate of food.

Your fingers brush against his, making him flinch back and drop the plate, causing it to shatter on the floor with a loud crash.

Instead of focusing on the mess, you looked at him with worry.

"¿Estás bien? No estás herido, ¿verdad-?", you reach out to him but he smacks your hand away. (Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you-?)

"Don't touch me.", he hisses out. "I am not comfortable with your advances, so I advise you to stop NOW before I tear you apart and make you into tomorrow's dinner."

With that you took a step back.

"No quería incomodarte. Me detendré. Perdóname por no tener en cuenta tus sentimientos.", you muttered and looked away. (I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I will stop. Forgive me for not taking your feelings into account.)

Alastor didn't bother trying to translate your response in his head, just walking around you and to the door.

"Lo siento.." (I'm sorry..)

He heard you whisper as he walked out of the kitchen, leaving you alone.

With a sigh, you kneeled down and began to clean the mess.

Sad times means cookies.

~Seline, the person.

Part 3

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @willowshadenox @aria-tempest @alastor-simp @nonetheartist @gallantys @i-3at-kidz @luxky-aish @ceafighter @xalygatorx @xangel-8 @sleep-7372 @wat4r @lustylita @xdolls-crownx @lonelysimp18 @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @dap11 @al1fers-haven @futureittomainn @random-3455 @+?

ML II Alastor🎙 | CP ChL🦌

[psychobulimic]

No one cares until you’re dead!!!

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Mahito x AFAB!Reader

SFW (ish)

Word Count: 2'060

Warnings: Yandere, Previously established (forced) relationship, Invasion of privacy, Nudity, Threats, Implied stalking, Nonconsensual touching, Reader eats shit in the tub (as in they fall).

Additional Notes: Reader is a foreigner in Japan.

You decided to leave the door open this time.

There wouldn’t be much point in shutting it, you had decided. The door to the bathroom was there for privacy, and while this wasn’t your home, you were alone so shutting it would’ve felt redundant.

The scent of eucalyptus filled the air as you sat on the edge of the tub and poured a generous amount of foaming bath soap into the water as it filled.

The house you were in was more Western-styled than the rest of the neighborhood. Part of you found it funny since, if someone were going to move to another country, you’d think they’d embrace the cultural differences that came with it - including home design.

That being said it did make a few things easier for yourself since you were also a foreigner, however you hardly ever complained when it came to your line of work.

Your job was a simple one. While the residents were away on vacation, you’d stay and take care of their home as well as whatever plants or animals that occupied it.

The owners got peace of mind while they were away and you got both a free place to live and paid to do almost nothing. Wins all around, in your opinion.

The cat you were looking after sat just outside the entrance to the bathroom, the tip of its tail twitching back and forth as it watched the water level in the tub rise.

“Don’t worry, Ashy, this isn’t for you.” You said as you put the cap back on the soap bottle and tested the temperature of the water with your right hand.

Ashes, the sleek Russian Blue feline narrowed her eyes in apparent scrutiny and her tail thumped against the carpet a little harder. The sight made you chuckle lightly.

“It isn’t, I promise.” The assurance in your tone was the same one would use when talking to a toddler. “See?”

You stood from the tub and began undressing, making quick work of your shirt and pants. Your amusement only grew when Ashes immediately got up and walked away, presumably to find a place to lay down that wasn’t near temporary bodies of water.

Once the water was about six inches from the top you shut it off and removed the rest of your clothing. The sigh that left you was low when you stepped in and settled amongst the bubbles, the hot water enveloping you in a gentle embrace that made your eyes close and your head rest against the edge of the tub.

The bathtub was nice - nicer than anything you had ever previously owned. It was long enough that you could properly stretch your legs out while being deep enough that the water came just above chest level. The only thing that could have possibly made it better was if it came with jets, but you certainly weren’t complaining with how things were.

Taking in a deep breath, you sank under the water and resurfaced a second later, letting out a long exhale while wiping the water away from your eyes.

It felt good. Being surrounded by warmth and not having to think about anything you had to do.

“Well, this is an interesting sight.”

The unexpected voice caused you to startle - jerking up straight in the tub while your head snapped towards the doorway.

It was him again. The stitches lining his skin were unmistakable, as was the mirth in his bi-coloured eyes while he leaned against the frame where Ashes had been only a few minutes ago.

Indignation quickly came up to replace the majority of the embarrassment, and you scooped up the bubbles around you to cover your chest.

“Get out.”

“Why? I’d say the open door was more than enough of an invitation.” 

Mahito’s nonchalance was infuriating and your knees drew up as he approached the tub.

“Well, it wasn’t.”

Mahito giggled, both at your answer and your vain attempt at more modesty. He stopped about three feet away from the tub to lean against the sink and he shrugged “Could’ve fooled me.”

“What are you doing here?” Your tone was sharp, no-nonsense, although most of its bite was reduced due to your current state.

“What am I doing here?” Mahito parroted back, idly going through the items on the bathroom counter - picking through your perfumes and skin care products. “I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I meant.” You snapped, irritation further clouding any mortification you felt. “You couldn’t find someone else’s house to break into?”

“Now that’s just it.” Mahito looked back towards you, a shit-eating smile on his face. “This isn’t your house.”

Fury and annoyance burned in your cheeks and Mahito giggled.

“You look like an angry, wet cat.” He said, toying with a bottle of your perfume. It was one of your favourites, cherry scented. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“I’d be lying if I said yes.”

“Awwee.” Mahito cooed with faux, overexaggerated hurt. “That isn’t very nice.”

“How did you even find me?” You asked, deciding to break off from the line of dialogue that was clearly leading nowhere. “The last place I was in was on the other side of the city.”

“Yes, it was.” Mahito sighed, like the reminder itself was exhausting and he pouted. Like an actual child. “Rather upsetting of you to not tell me you were moving around.”

Your teeth dug into the flesh of your cheek. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Your questions are boring.” He replied, “In any case I’m glad I’ve found you again, you’re definitely a sight for sore eyes.”

Something curled in your gut at his words. It felt heavy, like sludge, and your lips pulled back into a sneer. “Horrendous.”

Mahito chuckled once more at your comment, clearly unbothered. “Now, now, is that how you treat a guest?” He set your perfume back on the counter and took a step forward to crouch next to the tub.

Your arm came over to cover your breasts automatically and he rolled his eyes.

“You know, there’s no point in covering yourself. I’ve already seen everything.”

Pure, unfiltered mortification burned in your face and you glared at him. “Go to hell.”

He feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart. “How rude, and here I thought humans were more welcoming to their guests, especially in this part of the world.”

He chuckled again, his glee-filled eyes fixed on yours. “But I imagine that’s lost on you.”

“You’re not a guest.” Your reply was harsh, angry embarrassment still driving your words.

“No?” He leaned over the edge of the tub, getting far too close for comfort. “Then what am I?”

Dozens of answers sprang to mind. He was awful, for one. You often wondered if the stitches that ran along his skin were the only things that kept the rot in his soul from physically bubbling to the surface.

Repulsive was another. Abhorrent. Nauseating. Terrifying. Incredibly unwelcome in ways that caused words to fall short.

“A pain in the ass.” Was the savory answer you chose.

Mahito let out a bark of laughter - the sound loud and harsh in the acoustics of the bathroom and it caused you to flinch with how close he was to your face. Internally you were thankful when he drew back to sit cross-legged on the tile.

“A pain in the ass, huh? Can’t say I’ve heard that one before.” He said, his smirk widening. “You know, it’s always fun when humans try to be feisty.”

The fruit was low-hanging, but you took it anyway, albeit reluctantly. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” His grin widened to the point it was a marvel his stitches didn’t rip. “It makes it more enjoyable when they realize nothing can save them.”

The heavy feeling in your stomach quickly turned to ice. You sank a little lower in the tub, although warmth did nothing for the goosebumps that blossomed along your skin at the threat.

But that wasn’t quite right, it wasn’t a threat. No, it was fact, and he stated it like one. Mahito enjoyed destroying people, peeling back layer after layer - both physical and psychological - to see what was underneath. It was entertainment disguised as research, since - even despite being shown what he was capable of - you refused to believe even someone as vile as him got any knowledge out of what appeared to be pure torture.

Mahito sniggered at the look on your face and he waved a hand dismissively

“Oh relax, nothing’s going to happen to you.”

The unspoken ‘yet’ at the end of his sentence lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of eucalyptus and poisoning it.

“Anyway, that’s enough of that.”

You looked at him quizzically as he stood back up, but the confusion was short-lived as you saw him reach for the hem of his shirt.

Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“Uhm, what the hell are you doing?!”

“There’s more than enough room in there for two.” The casualness of Mahito’s voice was slightly muffled when he pulled his shirt over his head. “And it’s been a while since I’ve had a bath, the hot springs aren’t exactly close, you know?”

He wasn’t wrong. The house you were looking after belonged to a couple, and it was clear the bathtub was bought with the intention of having more than one person in it, but the mere thought of being near Mahito that way made you want to vomit.

When he stripped out of his pants your eyes immediately moved to the bubbles surrounding you. It was a hopeless situation since, even if you did move to get out, not only would he truly see you in all your glory, he’d likely drag you right back in anyway.

When he stepped in, the water was displaced so greatly that some of it spilled over the edge and onto the tiled floor. A grimace crossed your face and your eyes narrowed at the bubbles. You’d have to clean that up later.

Mahito was quiet for maybe a minute maximum, shifting around here and there and displacing more water onto the floor until he sighed dramatically.

“This isn’t comfortable.”

The urge to snap at him that he was more than welcome to get out clung to the tip of your tongue and nearly leaped off of it, but any kind of response was replaced with more of that awful but familiar embarrassed outrage as you felt cold fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you forward.

It threw you off balance horribly, and your free hand shot out instinctively to catch your fall a moment too late. Water went up your nose when you went underwater for a brief moment and you came up just as fast as you went down, coughing and sputtering as Mahito pulled you against him - twisting you so you were settled between his legs with your back against his chest.

His giggle mixed with the ringing in your ears.

“Whoops.” He said, apology non-existent. “But this is more comfortable, don’t you think?”

You didn’t want to think. You didn’t want to think about any of it. Not the way one of his arms was wrapped around your waist, locking you in place, or the way the bone in his chin dug into the muscles of your shoulder.

Each cough from you made more water spill onto the floor and Mahito sighed again while he smoothed the wet strands of your hair away from your face.

For a moment you wondered if this is what Ashes felt like whenever you bathed her.

“Humans are so fragile, it’s a wonder there’s so many of you.” His words were muttered like he was thinking out loud, and it was very likely that he was. “A bit of water and your soul is already down to seventy percent.”

It was more than just some water, you wanted to yell at him. It was the fact he was here in the first place, the fact he was holding you naked against him so you could feel as much of him as he could of you.

The fact that you were beginning to realize that no matter what house you took care of, he’d always be there.

And there’d be much more than water to clean up after.

© absolute-flaming-trash 2024. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[the-real-loser-otaku-girl]

Call me suicidal the way i want to die 24/7

[minecraft978-blog]

So hey @support can you guys ban this guy who at this point has 19 alts telling people to harm themselves. 19 all in the name of a horrible person who goes by @wonkytoons.

[eunoiassoldiers]

the hammer wails for the heads of living robloxians...

//slightly based off this tweet i liked

//also i may or may not have um accidentally sent this without replying to the ask beforehand and scrambled to delete it... if u saw that NO YOU DIDNT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO AWAY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 45: Thanatology

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

Leo has never moved with such panic and speed in his life, he thinks.

He cradles Mikey's body close to him as he runs down the halls, screaming-crying for 'April, Casey, somebody! Help us!!'

As soon as Mikey had crumbled, Raphael had created a ginormous hologram around him, Leo, and Donnie. Secure in his arms, Raph then jumped down the hole that had been created in the building not a five minutes ago.

The trio are now running frantically through the halls as Mikey bleeds out in Leo's arms, searching for the others in a panic. They need help.

"He's getting cold!" Leo shouts back to Donnie. "How are his vitals, will he make it?!"

Donnie -- who is literally hovering over them as they race down the corridors -- flips his goggles over and examines the dying child.

"...Not looking good, chief," Donnie states. "He's lost a lot of blood, the barb pierced his neck pretty deep. We have to hurry or else --"

Mikey suddenly starts coughing violently, spewing blood from his mouth as he lurchs in Leo's arms from the force.

"... He might choke on his own blood," Donnie groans.

"J-just hang on, buddy," Leo begs, readjusting his grip on Mikey. "Hang on..."

Mikey's eyes open and close. His eyes are clouded over, his vision far away and blurry. Leo thinks he hears Mikey mumble something, reaching up softly.

"...l....leo....?"

"I'm here, I'm here," he repeats over and over and over again. "I'm right here, just stay with me -- k-keep talking, just keep --"

"....leo......" he murmurs, hand still shakily rising to meet Leo. "...did i do.... d-did i do good, l...leo.....?"

"You did so good, buddy, you did so so good, and --"

Leo chokes on his tears. He bites his lip as he tries (unsuccessfully) to keep from crying, to stay strong.

Mikey's hand reaches up just enough to touch Leo's face. His hand is cold. His bloodsoaked hand leaves a sanguine fingerprint against Leo's chin, before slipping back down, dangling limply by his side. Leo keeps on babbling, talking on and on and on in a panicked ramble of instructions for both himself and his brother.

Mikey's head rolls to look back at Raph and Donnie, and he manages a bloodstained smile at them.

"...hhhhiiiiii, rraphieeeee....... heyyy, d....d....dee-dee...."

Neither of them can hear Mikey's ghost of a whisper voice.

"wh....why so...... scared, i-i'm not.... going any....where...."

His eyes lose focus.

".......................right....?"

They still don't hear him. Raph manages to meet his gaze and tries to smile back at him, though the smile is wobbly and his eyes are wet.

"Hey, king," Raph shudders, his voice cracking and breaking. "You'll be fine."

Mikey's eyes feel so heavy. He tries to nod or hum to show Raph he trusts him. He's not sure if he ever does either of those things...

He... he wants to say something.

He knows he wants to say something.

If this really is the end... then he has to say SOMETHING, right?

"....i....."

His eyes start to drift closed.

Say something. Anything. Hurry.

There isn't any time left.

"...i-i... i..."

Mikey tries to lift a finger, a hand... his whole body feels cold, staticy nothingness replacing every cell and bone and scale.

Apologize for leaving.

Apologize for dying like this and worrying them.

Apologize for allowing yourself to forget them, allowing yourself to believe that they wouldn't care about you to come back for you.

Mikey's breath is clogged in his throat, his heartbeat a flutter in his chest that is just about to fly away.

SAY SOMETHING, PLEASE! YOU WON'T GET ANOTHER CHANCE, MIKEY!!

Mikey musters up as much strength as his feeble and broken body has left. He wishes he could think of something cleverer... something more meaningful... something that would make up for everything.

In the end, there's only one thing he wants to make clear for eternity. Only one point that he wants to get across. Only one message that he needs them to remember...

"....i.... i l.... i lllllovvvve y...."

That'll have to do it...

Mikey exhales softly before his eyes close.

Leo looks down just in time to see Mikey's eyes droop closed as his chest falls.

"No... No, no! #%@& NO!! You can't just --"

Leo sees a door cracked open and hears voices from the room inside.

He makes a break for it.

Inside, several heads turn around and gape in surprise and utter terror as they see Leonardo scramble inside and drop Mikey's body onto a table.

"H-help me," Leo begs. "Please... please!"

April screams a horrifying and broken cry as she runs to her baby brother, taking his face in her hands and examining his wounds.

Casey is by their sides in an instant, mask pulled down so his Genius Tech™ built-in goggles can find what needs to be taken care of first. Leo's words spill out faster than he can process, desperately explaining the situation.

"...We need to make sure his airways are clear so he can breath," Casey announces. "Donatello, get me a... a-a a ventilator and a tube to clear his airways. N-next, we..." Casey starts hyperventilating, his hands shake as he tries to pinpoint what to do.

"Case?" Leo begs, reaching out for him. "Please, tell us -- "

"I-I don't know," he admits, trembling. "He... S-Sensei only taught me so much, I never got to Stab Wounds 101! I... I-I know that we shouldn't take the barb out, that'll just cause the bloodflow to... l-like a cork in a bottle, i-it's the only thing keeping the blood inside, but -- I, uh, we need to close the wound, s-s-so --"

Bishop runs over and Pulls Casey aside.

"You're okay, kid. Look, wounds this bad need immediate treatment. I know a few things for dealing with stabs, but... that might not cut it. He's lost a lot of blood and we'll probably need to perform a transfusion."

"I can do that," Leo nods, swallowing. "I know how."

"But w-who's gonna donate?" Casey asks.

All three brothers raise their hands at once.

"It should be me," Donnie announces quite seriously.

"Don, you can't stand stuff like that!" Raph argues. "I should be the one; Raph's the biggest, and I have more than enough blood --"

"I can do it!" Leo argues.

"You have to perform the actual transfusion process! You can't do that when you're giving --"

"It should be ME," Donnie reiterates very vocally. "Raph, yes you are the biggest and the strongest, which is why we'll need you to carry both Mikey and the blood donor home. Leo has to do the transfusion, so he can't do it. It needs to be me."

Leo and Raph exchange a glance before reluctantly relenting.

"I can try to treat the wound," Bishop says, looking at it carefully. "But... I'm afraid I'm not well-versed in mutant biology..."

"Meaning?" April asks.

"ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴍɪᴋᴇʏ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅ ɪꜱ ʀᴇᴘᴀɪʀᴇᴅ," Honeycutt chimes in.

"So... s-so even if we save him..." Raph says, pausing for a dramatic and anxious gulp, "Mikey will still die?"

Honeycutt doesn't answer, except to hang his head in shameful defeat.

"NO," Leo snaps, slamming his fists on the table by Mikey's side. "There HAS to be a way! I'm not letting his rescue and weeks of recovery go to waste like that! Mikey is coming home, END OF STORY!"

The group exchange glances between one another.

"Leo... None of us can do anything. None of us know what to... how to treat him, or..." April tries, though the tears stop her midway through the sentence and she breaks down crying in Raphael's arms, who buries his face in her curls to hide his own tears.

Leo looks around the room with a determined fury before his gaze falls on a horror-stricken Cassandra... guarding Dr. Finn.

Leo storms over to her, feet stomping so hard against the floor that he shakes the room.

He towers over her, commanding every ounce of burning anger to make him look as intimidating as possible and not reveal himself as the terrified and desperate child that he really is.

"YOU," he growls, pointing at her face. "FIX HIM. NOW."

"Excuse me?" Dr. Finn scoffs. "Why should I?"

"My brother is about to die. You were one of the head geneticists here, right? I want you to save his life."

Abigail Finn rolls her eyes and smirks at him.

"I repeat, why should I?"

"If you save him, I'll let you go," Leo promises dryly. "Simple as that."

"Leo--" Raph tries.

Leo raises his hand, effectively silencing Raph. This negotiation is happening, and he's gotten Finn's attention.

"Intriguing," she chuckles. "So, I save your little runt of a brother, I get to go? What assurances do I have that you won't follow me or something?"

"I don't have time to make a thousand promises to you," Leo growls, grabbing her shirt collar and lifting her off the ground from where she sits. "I will only say this once. You WILL save his life, because if he dies, then so will you," Leo threatens. "I'm not playing nice anymore. I'm not being the hero today. I'm just here to save my brother. You can either keep him alive, patch him up, and then leave by yourself, or I WILL kill you with my own bare hands."

Abigail stares him in the eyes, her face going pale. She rises to her feet and nods. Leo cuts her free from the phone cord used as a temporary restraint, and drags her by the arm to Mikey.

"Now. Save him."

"By any means?"

"Just," Leo heaves, his breath a growl as he glares the fear of God into her, "Save. Him."

"Fine," she grumbles, "You get the other one ready for the transfusion. You, kid," she points to Casey, "go find one of those frost guns and fast."

"F-frost gun?" Raph contests. "You're not gonna freeze him, are you?"

"If we can get his body to enter a cryogenic state, it will assist with the injuries while also keeping him sedated. The mutations on his metabolism will cause all functions to essentially be paused while his body is in the diapause state, and his heart rate will also be on hold, which should be in our favour as well..."

"Should?" April grills.

"Look, do you have an advanced degree and PhD in biology, genetics, and mutations? No? Didn't think so. Now go make yourself useful and find me a syringe. We need to drain the excess blood from his throat and possibly his lungs..."

The room erupts in missions -- Leo prepares the tourniquet and blood bag for Dee's donation, and Raph helps mentally prepare Donnie. Despite his readiness, Donnie cannot hide his absolute displeasure at having his fluids drained from his body like a juice box.

April finds the medical equipment Finn needs just as Casey comes running back in with a frost gun.

The operation begins...

Dr. Finn blasts Mikey with the gun. He doesn't react.

That's not a good sign...

Mikey's skin ices over, his hands clench in place, his limbs go rigid.

"Will... will he be okay?"

"He'll have one heck of a headache once he wakes up," Abigail sighs as she tosses the frost ray to the side. "And he might have a slight case of hypothermia or frostbite, but he'll be okay. Provided he actually survives the surgery. We might be too late."

"Then get. On. With. It," Leo snarls.

Abigail nods and starts to work, directing Casey Jones Jr. and Agent Bishop on what to do when removing the spike from Mikey's neck and how to patch it up. Abigail gets several vials of goo from a medical freezer and uses them in her treatments as well.

She tells Leo when to start the transfusion.

Donnie looks away from the needle and tube as his blood is harvested. Raph tells him not to think of it as 'harvesting'. Donnie snaps in irritation and waits a beat before apologizing to Raph for the snippy remark. Raph forgives him and holds him close.

April paces back and forth as she watches, trying to offer medical advice she'd learned from her mother. Eventually she gives up and goes to help Dee, who is not handling the transfusion very well and looks quite peaky.

Casey works as the nurse, assisting Dr. Finn with whatever she needs. Leo is not allowed to help since he's too much of an emotional wreck. He instead opts to go into a different room and trash the whole place while screaming to let off some steam before coming back in, a bit calmer. But not by much.

As Abigail works to cauterize and stitch up the wounds on his throat and abdomen, everyone takes the opportunity to approach Leo about what he meant by letting Abigail go free.

"You didn't actually mean that, right?"

"You were just saying that to get her to cooperate..."

"Do you have some big plan in mind? Is this a Leo scheme? It's a Leo scheme, isn't it??"

Leo's answer is almost always the same.

"I meant what I said."

Raph seems to be the only one to focus in on the second half of the promise he'd made.

"Would you really kill her if she didn't help us?"

Leo stays silent. Raph reaches over and pulls him into a side hug as he continues to hold Donnie, who had fainted from the experience of giving blood. He's currently drooling on Raph's arm. Leo sees this and huffs an empty chuckle at the sight.

Raph smiles and rubs his back. Leo looks back to Dr. Finn as she operates on Mikey. His smile fades quickly.

"...I was mad," he whispers.

"I know," Raph whispers back.

"I... I know it would be wrong. It wouldn't help anyone. It would just make it worse. I'm not that kind of guy."

"I know."

"...But yeah. If she had said 'no'... I think I would have snapped."

Leo starts crying at the realization.

"I'm not a bad person, Raph," he whimpers. "I'm not a killer... I-I'm not a spiteful or vengeful guy, I mean sure I pull the odd prank and yeah I can hold a grudge longer than the average Joe, but... b-but I promise I-I'm not -- I'm not --"

"I know," Raph repeats, bringing Leo closer as he continues to hold a Drowsytello. "I know. And I know that even if she said no, you wouldn't actually kill her. You're not that kind of person, no matter how much it feels like the world wants to break you. You're not that kind of person, Leo."

"I just want Mikey to be okay," Leo weeps. "I don't want it to be for nothing..."

"I know," Raph cries cradling his family, all too aware of how incomplete it feels without the youngest. "I know... I want him to come home, too."

.

.

.

Mikey wonders where he is. It's kinda dark... the world around him feels like it's moving in slow motion. Trapped in a deep and dark abyss of sleepy nothingness.

He tries to move, to speak, to think. It's all so exhausting. His mind is tar, clinging to his arms and legs and tail and keeping him engulfed in the exhaustion.

His eyes open.

A light....

There's a light above him...

Mikey reaches for it.

The light gets brighter, driving away the darkness and the sticky sludge that encompasses his form. The light grows and evolves, the rays giving off beams of blue, purple, red, and orange.

The light blinds him for a moment. When he opens his eyes again, Mikey finds himself in a familiar place.

Though he knows he's never been here before.

It is warm, loving, bright, and spacious. The air shimmers with sunlight, and yet there are stars and galaxies that sparkle in the sky.

Flowers that he's never seen before blossom and bloom in the fresh green grass beneath his feet. The wind is cool, the sun is warm, the ground is soft. It feels like a dream... and yet too real to be a dream.

Mikey feels a hand take his.

He turns to see a middle-aged woman with raven hair and a storm blue robe smiling at him. He feels like he knows her somehow. He smiles back at her, unsure why he's so comfortable around her but accepts it regardless.

"Hello."

"Hello, dear one," she replies with a kind and rosy chuckle. "It's lovely to see you again. Would you me show you around?"

"Yes please," Mikey nods.

She gently pulls him along, directing him down the rolling hills to meet the others that wait for him...

.

.

.

Abigail Finn works under anxious stress as every single pair of eyes in the room watches her with anticipation and furious hate.

Well, she can hate them right back.

Once she finishes patching up Mikey's neck abdomen, she turns to Leo.

"How much did you get?" she asks, in reference to the transfusion.

"A pint," he says dryly.

"Let's get it ready, then," Abigail nods, pulling the blood bag close and having Leo assist with the tubing and needle. "But first we need to thaw the body out."

Leo nearly gags at her calling Mikey 'the body'. It makes it sound like he's a carcass, already dead...

W-which he isn't. Most definitely not. Mikey's going to make it.

"ɪ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ," Fugitoid says, volunteering for duty to thaw him out. "ɪ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴɪɴɢ ᴜɴɪᴛ ᴏʀ ʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴀᴅᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʟ, ᴀɴᴅ --"

"That's great, Tin Man, just hurry and warm him up please," Leo interjects.

Abigail and Honeycutt exchange awkward glances at each other before she backs away and allows him to heat up Mikey, melting off the permafrost that adorns his epidermis.

Mikey's body is pale, ashen scales and spotted skin shockingly desaturated. But little by little, as he warms up he regains colour.

His chest rises a microscopic amount as he weakly inhales. But his pulse is slowly falling.

"Once his body reaches a normal temperature," Abigail explains, "then you can administer the transfusion."

"Meaning you won't do it?" Leo spouts off, glaring at her.

"Meaning, I held up my end of the deal. Now I think you can handle it from here, right?" she challenges. "I want my get-out-of-jail-free card."

Leo inhales deeply. His hands clench into fists as he tries to control his rage.

He exhales deeply.

"Fine. Get out of here."

Abigail's eyes widen before she runs to grab her bag and jet. As she hurries out the door, Leo snags her by the elbow.

"But if I ever see your face again, I'll make sure you experience every pain you caused my brother. Got it? ¿Entiende eso, señora?"

Abigail nods slowly, her face dead-set but white as a sheet. She pulls her arm free from his grip and walks away, disappearing down the hall, never to be seen again.

"...Leo?" April whispers, nervous for her friend. "You okay?"

He slowly turns around, expression dark but determined.

"...Let's get the blood exchange started before his heart rate drops any lower... Oh, and someone should call Dad and Draxum."

.

.

.

Mikey is dazzled by the wondrous and simplistic beauty of this place.

It's so calming and pure. The woman shows him around the fields before bringing him to a tiny series of houses and cottages built in a traditional Japanese style. There are elderly people in cloaks and hoods, young men dressed as samurai, women and their families. There's even a few kids here, which makes Mikey sad for some reason.

His eyes fall on a young woman in green, her hair pulled back in a long ponytail. She's laughing with an older bald man, who holds her close and laughs with her. They turn and see Mikey, and wave hello to him. He finds himself waving back.

"Who are they?" he asks.

"Hamato Karai and her father, Oroku Saki," the woman explains.

"Oh." Mikey feels like that should clear things up, but it doesn't. "And... sorry, who are you?"

"My name is Hamato Atsuko," she replies with an airy giggle. "You wouldn't remember me anyways, so don't feel bad. We were never properly introduced. But I would recognize my grandson anywhere!"

"Grand...?"

"Follow me," Atsuko says gently, patting his hand and gently tugging him along the path.

Mikey wonders why everyone here is so familiar... why this place feels like home... Why he feels like he's dreaming...

"Am... Am I dea--"

"Here we are!" Atsuko proclaims, extending her arms and showing off a very beautiful minka.

There are vines of blossoms hanging from the roof, draping like curtains that follow the wrap-around porch. Multi-coloured lanterns adorn the pagoda. It's not a mansion or a castle, but it's still pretty big for just one person. Mikey notices that there are several doors around the house, each one painted a special colour.

Red. Purple. Blue. Grey. Even Yellow, a darker Burgundy, a deep Teal, and a Magenta.

Mikey approaches a bright Orange door with a symbol like a turtle shell and nunchucks carved into the door.

"This is our stop," Atsuko says, as Mikey places a hand on the smooth wooden aperture. "Go on, go inside!"

Mikey takes in a breath, and pushes the door open.

Another bright light engulfs him.

Prev || Next

[areiacannaid]

Declination

I have finally been able to finish this short story inspired by this prompt/story idea from nilswolf8 where Halt joins Morgarath. Here is the final chapter.

Previous chapters

Read on AO3

Chapter 4

Halt hadn’t wanted to send him on this mission, he’d said that Will wasn’t ready for it—that he was too young. It was something which, at the time, had rankled, stung. He was fifteen now; old enough and well-trained enough to handle himself. It had made Will more determined than ever to prove that he could complete what would be his first solo mission, and complete it well. But now, with the agonizing clarity that so often came with hindsight, he had started to wonder if Halt had been right. Things had gone far worse than he could have possibly imagined and now he had no idea what he would do.

Restless energy lent itself to his muscles as he found himself pacing the length of the safe house, trying to shove aside the sense of panic that built steadily within him as the minutes passed. Gilan was supposed to meet him here after he finished his own mission, but he was already hours late. Will worried at his lower lip as he found himself wishing for and dreading his brother’s arrival. After all, Gilan, like Halt, always seemed to know what to do. But, at the same time, explaining to him just how badly he had failed, wasn’t an appealing prospect. 

The coded knock sounded suddenly on the door, shattering the eerie quiet of the room. Will finally stopped pacing, letting out his breath as he unlocked and opened the door, moving aside so Gilan could enter.

“Where have you been?” The words tore from Will’s throat with much more force and anger than he’d intended.

Gilan tilted his head to consider him a moment, eyes narrowed, before a slow smile spread across his face.

“Out,” he said finally, stepping past Will, the sarcasm in the words contradicting the smile.

Will rolled his eyes in response, despite the pounding in his heart that constricted his chest. There had been no malice in Gilan’s reply, he knew. There never was. He watched as his brother headed to the back of the room to place down his supplies. The twisted feeling in his stomach couldn’t bear the silence anymore and so he drew breath to speak, an effort that was stymied by the realization he had no idea where to begin or what to even say. He was gathering himself to try again when Gilan beat him to it.

“Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” he asked Will quietly without turning around. It was as if he was somehow privy to Will’s thoughts or, perhaps, he had merely read Will’s expression when he came in.

“Yes,” Will admitted softly.

“Are you alright?”

“For now, but not for long.”

Gilan did turn then, calculating gaze seeking answers as much as asking for them.

“I killed Morgarath’s men. The ones sent to assassinate the Courier and her apprentice.”

One eyebrow rose at that announcement.

“Why?”

The question was curious, not accusing. Gilan didn’t seem to care much that Will had just admitted to the cold-blooded murder of their allies, but he did want to know why Will had made such a glaring tactical error.

“I couldn’t let them kill her, kill either of them!”

“The Courier and her apprentice?” Gilan asked blankly, eyebrow still raised.

Will could only nod.

“Again, why?”

“I had to get close to them both for my mission: to get into Baron Arlad’s court. And I… I love her, Gilan, the Courier’s apprentice—Alyss. I couldn’t let her die.”

Gilan searched his face as if looking for there to be some sort of punchline to this. But, when he realized there was none, that Will was serious, the other eyebrow went up to join the first. He grinned, closing the distance between them.

“I have to say, I’m happy for you Will, but you certainly picked the worst way possible to fall in love.”

“This is serious, Gil!” Will protested, put out, and more than a little frustrated by his brother’s casual attitude. “Did you not hear what I said about killing Morgarath’s men?”

Gilan merely shrugged. “If they’re all dead they can hardly go informing Morgarath of what you did. It was risky, but not irreparable. We can come up with a cover story.” He began, but stopped as he became aware of Will’s expression. He narrowed his eyes. “They are all dead, aren’t they?”

“One may have gotten away.”

Gilan blinked at him, disbelieving.

Will felt a flush of anger. “The fight got a little complicated and, at the end, I had to choose between saving Alyss or killing the last man!” He took a breath, hands trembling, before adding in a small voice. “I don’t know what to do, Gilan.”

For a brief moment, Will saw his own fear reflected in his brother’s eyes and now entirely serious face.

“Morgarath won’t tolerate treason. And if you run, you know he’ll do whatever it takes to hunt you down. Revenge seems to give him a certain… pleasure.” He made a crude gesture not bothering to hide the sneer that curled that last word.

“I know,” Will said, holding his head in his hands. “He’ll never stop trying to kill me.”

“Unless you're already dead. I’ll report to Morgarath that I saw what happened after the guard fled, report that I killed you for your treason, and then completed your assassination mission for you. It will give you and the Couriers the chance to run, disappear.”

~x~X~x~

Halt made no sound as wove through the shadowed wood to the small cabin that served as their safehouse in this area of the Kingdom. He moved with the shadows of the clouds overhead so that he seemed to weave fluidly around the patches of silver moonlight. He was, for all intents and purposes, invisible to any eyes that might be watching. 

Hearing the sound of urgent voices coming from inside the cabin, he didn’t head towards the door but instead to the windows. They had only shutters and a latch to close against the chill of the night. They weren’t very well made and sound carried clearly through them.

He froze to listen and was just in time to be made aware of everything about the results of Will’s mission. But in light of everything that had happened, that outcome seemed almost trivial. Or, rather, like another log to be added to an inexorable bonfire. 

His old adage of always expecting something to go wrong in order to avoid disappointment had clearly been far too conservative of a saying. If this situation taught him anything, it was that he should have expected absolutely everything possible to go wrong all at once. 

Biting back something that was half a sigh of exasperation, and half a breath to calm a racing heart, he reached up to silently undo the latch of the cabin’s unlit back room window and slip inside.

 “So we’re set on the plan then?” Gilan’s voice carried to him as he stood in the shadow of the back room's door jam. “We will fake your death and I will report it to Morgarath.” 

“There’s only one problem with that,” Halt interposed his voice into their conversation, causing both of them to wheel around, more with surprise than fear, he knew. He was pretty certain that, even distracted as his two apprentices had been, there were very few people who could sneak up on them, of which Halt was one. 

“Halt!” Will said as he and Gilan both turned to face their mentor.

One glance at his students showed that neither had expected Halt to be here. After all, he was supposed to have still been at Morgarath’s stronghold.

“I’m sorry, Halt,” Will said, realizing a little belatedly that his mentor had obviously heard everything.

Halt’s steely gaze flicked away from Will when Gilan found his voice, caught on the substance of what their mentor had said first.

“Why can’t I fake Will’s death? It’s too late to stop the man who escaped, and I won’t let Will be hunted down for Morgarath’s pride.”     

Halt let out his breath, his arms uncrossing to hang loosely at his sides.

“It won’t work because Morgarath will sooner kill you than listen, Gilan. He found out about Malcolm’s little rebellion and it won’t be long until he finds out that you both were helping him.”

Though it hadn’t seemed possible, Will’s expression shuddered even further at that announcement.  

“Helping?” Gilan asked innocently.

Halt glared, not falling for it. “Yes, helping. Malcolm told me about your little project.”

“He did?”

“Apparently, he was under the misapprehension that I already knew about it. What he’s been doing: taking up the guise of Malkallam, stirring up the populace against Morgarath. That was never going to end well.  It turns out he was betrayed by someone he trusted, someone who was completely loyal to Morgarath. It won’t be long until it comes out that you two helped him: gave false reports to Morgarath about his movements to protect him. What were you both thinking?” He demanded.

“I was thinking that Malcolm is family,” Will admitted stubbornly.  

And Halt couldn’t argue the point. Will was right. As the years had passed, the bird-like healer had grown very close to them. 

“He needed help. I couldn’t just not help him.” 

For as long as they had known him, Malcolm had been the equivalent of a slave, captured and forced to serve at Morgarth’s whims. Halt knew that had never sat well with his two apprentices. All told, it really should not have come as a surprise that Will and Gilan had risked themselves to help him when Malcolm had managed to set himself up as Malkallam, rebellion leader among the suffering peasantry in Morgarath’s lands. Halt felt the anger slowly drain from him as he thought it. Though it just as quickly sparked again as he swung his gaze towards Gilan.  

“And I suppose that’s the same reason you decided to move past simply currying favor with the soldiers and the army?” He demanded, words scathing.

Halt saw Will shoot a confused glance between himself and Gilan. Halt knew Will was well aware that Gilan was often sent by Morgarath to lead his troops. Gilan was skilled at it, and the soldiers respected him—likely far more than they respected most of the other commanders like Foldar who cared nothing for their men’s safety and would stay behind, protected, during battle while they threw away the lives of their own men. Will, however, clearly didn’t see what Halt was upset about until he spoke again.

“I know it was you who got word to the 8th infantry and helped them escape.”

Will’s eyes widened, then widened further still when Gilan didn’t deny it. 

“I served with them for years. Their reward for those years of service and being among the most elite of Morgarath’s troops was a false accusation of treason followed by the guarantee of a painful death. And it was all for no other reason than Morgarath’s pride and paranoia at their strength.” Gilan was silent a moment before he looked Halt in the eyes. “The truth is, Morgarath was right to be paranoid—and now the 8th are indebted to me. And they aren’t the only ones. I’ve made connections and curried favor with several of the top divisions.”

“Did you ever stop to consider doing that was treason?” Halt demanded angrily.

Gilan looked genuinely confused by Halt’s fury, confused and frustrated. 

“I thought that was what you wanted me to do?”

Halt’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You thought I wanted you to stage a military coup?”

“You can’t have expected that I would ever actually be loyal to Morgarath.” Gilan looked almost offended by the mere notion. “Especially not when you told me yourself that you weren’t loyal to him either—that you were just using him to get what you wanted.” The shadow of a vicious smile twisted his lips as he leaned forward. “Well, I wanted something too.” 

Halt felt his blood run cold, a horrible twisting sensation racing across his scars to settle in his chest. He couldn’t believe his ears. “You would betray our position here, everything we have worked for, for the sake of the Kingdom?”

Gilan’s eyebrows rose in surprised incredulity before drawing downward in anger. He shook his head adamantly.  

“I don’t care about the Kingdom and its politics; I care about us! Growing up with King Oswald, I saw nothing much better than Morgarath and we have suffered because of it. Training under you, I realized that the only way that we can truly stay safe and free from the wars, whims, and powerplay of others is to be the ones in power. And what about the people like us, those caught up in this and left to suffer and try to stay alive while other people play games with their lives?” 

Gilan hadn’t raised his voice but Halt felt himself flinch as if he had. Truth had a bite sharper even than hatred. It was something that had been whispering in the corners of his own mind, a whisper that had grown steadily louder as the years passed by. But now that it had been given voice, it was chilling. 

How many of those innocents ruled by Morgarath and King Duncan had loved ones they cared about as much as Halt cared about his apprentices? How many of those people had been like his little sister Caitlyn, who just wanted to live in peace and carve out some small measure of happiness from the world? 

Caitlyn had cared about people… so had Crowley. Halt closed his eyes as another truth rang in his mind…. He had started to care again too. As the years passed, he had slowly started to realize that not every person was a potential threat… and that there were things worth protecting—things far more precious than his own survival and safety. 

Gilan shook his head softly. “I wanted it all to stop, Halt. I’ve been moving pieces to that end ever since I was given my first command. But if the game is up for me as well before I could finish it, then so be it. Will and I will run together.”

“No.” Halt said firmly, stepping forward and placing a hand on each of his students’ shoulders and squeezing gently. “We will do what we can to help Malcolm and then we will all run together. Morgarath no longer has anything to offer me that I would value more than I value the two of you.”

They couldn’t defect to the Kingdom, that much was certain. People like them, ones who had served the enemy for so long would never truly be trusted. Once a traitor, always a traitor after all. Besides that, Halt had no desire to put himself at the service of a King—none of them would ever be worth trusting. 

But if they left the country entirely it would do nothing to solve the problems of the people here. They would have to try something different, and Halt thought then that they might just have the connections they might need to do so. They had the network for gathering information he and Will had set up in King Duncan’s land. They also had the networks that Gilan and Malcolm had set up in Morgarath’s lands. 

~x~X~x~

Crowley urged Cropper down the wooded path, coaxing as much speed from the little horse as he dared, considering the low light of the late hour. His mission was of some urgency after all. He needed to get to Baron Douglass of Highcliff Fief before first light if at all possible. The plea the Baron had sent to the King was nothing short of an emergency. If it was wholly accurate, it could spell disaster for the Kingdom as a whole. 

Baron Douglass was many things, but he’d never been one for undue panic or exaggeration. This was why he, and King Duncan, had decided it would be safest to respond immediately. Duncan had already mobilized a small force and they were only a day behind Crowley. His task had been to ride ahead and provide any necessary immediate assistance and gather all the necessary intel to send back to the army so they would be fully ready when they arrived. 

His mouth set itself in a grim line at the thought. Things had been relatively stable for the past year and he had no desire to return to the chaos and near constant warfare of the many years before. And this news was akin to an ill omen, boding its inevitable return. 

It had seemed for a while that they were on the back foot against Morgarath. Defeat had been all but guaranteed. All they had been doing was staving off the inevitable—something Crowley had been more than willing to do… up to his last breath. But then, things began to change. Morgarath’s kingdom had begun to destabilize, piece by piece. It had started with the peasants' Rebellion in Morgarath’s lands, and then with the disbanding and would-be execution of the 8th infantry. 

The 8th were of Morgaraths most elite troops. They, along with their commander, were the only unit in Morgarath’s army that had earned his grudging respect for their skill, discipline, intelligent tactics, and shocking lack of brutal, cruel, or dishonorable conduct when compared to any other of Morgarath’s divisions or commanders. He supposed that might well be the reason Morgarath had wanted to get rid of them. However, the 8th infantry escaped Morgarath’s judgment and had, along with some more disgruntled troops, joined the peasant uprising. This left Morgarath to fight a war on two fronts, from within and without.

But the change wasn’t just in Morgarath’s lands, it was in the King’s lands too. For them, however, it wasn’t destabilization but its opposite. Key generals of Morgarath’s had been taken out before or during battles. There had been destructive raids on enemy encampments and supply trains undertaken that they had not been a party to. There had been advanced warnings of attacks and plans given, along with the foiling of several assassination attempts. The few reports given back to him of those who had done it were vague, nothing more than rumors of a ‘hooded man’.  

And not everything had been on a large scale either. He’d heard more vague reports of people being helped or saved by a ‘hooded man’ all over the King's land and even Morgarath’s. After looking at the reports of these incidents, their locations, and timing, Crowley had come to the conclusion that this… vigilante… for lack of a better word, could not be one man alone, but rather two or three men working under the guise of the ‘hooded man’ to the same end. 

It could be that the ‘hooded man’ had started as one individual and the others were copycats. However, their actions and movements were too professional, consistent, and organized for that to be the case. To what ends the ‘hooded man’, or rather 'men', were operating, he was not yet certain. And that unsettled him almost as deeply as the means behind them. To have access to the amount of intelligence needed to pull all that off suggested an information and informant network that would rival that of the Rangers and Couriers combined. And that was a terrifying prospect. His only solace was that they did not seem to be currently acting against the interest of the Kingdom. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by a warning rumble from Cropper, some scent or sound causing the little horse to warn of potential danger. Alert now, his eyes were able to pick out the obstacle of several fallen trees and branches spanning the length of the highway ahead. A trap. He pulled Cropper to an immediate stop, turning his head to his left even as he began to wheel the little horse in that direction. 

Even amateur roadside bandits would know that most warriors were right-handed, and so they would give themselves an advantage to approach from the left, where a defender would have to wheel or reach awkwardly across to defend. They likely would try to block his retreat as well. 

Sure enough, he caught sight of movement from the left and behind. Crowley had an arrow knocked and aimed at the closest shadowed figure on his left, letting his arrow fly even as Cropper pivoted gracefully around. This gave him a larger view of the area. That was when he saw it. They weren’t just coming from the left and from behind, they were coming from all sides and there were far more of them than he had anticipated. Even in the moonlight, he could see that they were also far better armed and armored than any average highwayman group had any right to be. 

These men were soldiers. Crowley’s next arrow felled another man and he had only just enough time to roll from his horse’s saddle in order to avoid the quarrel flung towards him from one of the three crossbowmen he could make out. He fell and heard the bolt hum past his ear. He hit the ground in a recovery roll and rose smoothly into a crouch, another arrow drawn aimed, and fired at his enemies, first to one side of the road and then the other. The crossbowman fell along with a swordsman. 

That was when reflective defense gave way to grim understanding. Even with a Ranger’s speed and accuracy, he knew there were too many, and he had no cover. Another bolt whizzed past his face, opening a gash across his cheek in its flight. Cropper reared and kicked in a desperate attempt to protect his master from the approaching men, but it wasn’t enough. Crowley set his teeth then, determined that if this was going to be his end, his attackers would pay dearly for it. 

Then suddenly, several of the men nearest him fell in quick succession. He could see the glisten of a broadhead arrow protruding from one of the bodies, along with the clothyard shaft from a longbow—vastly distinct from the short quarrels of his adversaries. 

It gave Crowley the space and breath he needed to rally, and move to some cover. He once more aimed and shot at blinding speed. The unseen archer that had come to his aid was dropping as many enemies as quickly as he did, if not quicker. Ranger-level shooting, his mind supplied. And it was exemplary Ranger-level shooting at that.

From behind their respective cover, he and his ally were able to take on the last of the soldiers until the clearing was once again silent. Hearing and seeing nothing of the strange ally that had come to his aid, he was about to open his mouth to address the night at large when a voice spoke first. 

“Baron Douglass of Highcliff Fief is working for Morgarath—has been for some years now, in secret.”

Crowley easily pinpointed the voice’s location in the dark, turning swiftly in that direction, bow still partially drawn for the sake of caution. Having honestly expected one of the voices of his Rangers, he was taken a little aback. The voice did strike a chord in his memory, but not enough to belong to one of the men he’d been working closely with and leading for the past 10 years. 

As he watched, he saw a figure slowly melt into view, once again unsettlingly Ranger-like in his movements. His right hand was raised in a gesture of peace, his left hand still clutching his strung longbow. His shape was reminiscent of a Ranger as well. His ally was a cloaked and hooded man… perhaps one of the ‘hooded men’. 

“Morgarath’s been getting pretty desperate lately. And all this was his idea of a trap… an assassination attempt.”

“Damn near successful too,” Crowley said with some feeling before adding, the thanks apparent in his words, “if not for you.”  

The hooded man offered a nod of acknowledgment. Despite Crowley’s genuine gratitude at the man's intervention, there was something about him that whispered in warning in the back of his mind. It was something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Something wasn’t right. But he had precious little time to dwell on it as the man turned to make his leave. 

“How did you find out about this? Do you have any proof of what you said about Douglass and Morgarath?” he asked then, his words stopping the man’s planned retreat. 

The hooded man stopped, offering only a shrug as he turned back around to face him.

“Who else knew that you’d be on the road this late?” he asked eventually instead of answering. “These were clearly no simple highwaymen. If it's physical evidence you need, you might find it if you search the bodies for correspondence, or got a confession from one who is still alive.”

The man’s voice was quiet, the barest edge of a Hibernian burr lilting the words in a way that was… so familiar. That was when it hit him; the recognition caused a pit to open up in his stomach even as an old pain flared up near his heart.

The hooded man, the one who had been destabilizing Morgarath’s holdings, aided the kingdom, and assisted the peasantry on both sides of the war. Crowley knew him. His fingers flexed on his bow, undecided whether or not to draw it further back. This man was his enemy… but he had not always been. This man had wreaked havoc on the King's land… but he had also just saved Crowley’s life. 

“Halt,” he said, the name coming out tight with a painful mix of emotions he could not hold back.

“Crowley,” came the quiet reply, his words thick with an emotion of his own.

A soft breeze rustled the forest branches overhead as they faced each other, a question unanswered riding with the breath of the wind.

[artandhijinks]

My experience with the worst most toxic parts of the IWTV fandom

Okay, there are going to be details here that are changed or admitted for obvious mostly safety reasons. And I personally don't care if you think I'm lying, but it was still a scary experience and I do think there are people in the fandom that need to be aware this crap goes on all over fictional characters. So warning they're going to be mentions of threats a violence, doxing, harassment, the works, It was bad.

Okay a few months ago. I kicked the hornets nest when it comes to the worst part of the interview with the vampire fandom. I had engaged in some fan discourse. Made a couple of posts. A lot of it had to do with defending the added diversity with the casting of Assad and Jacob. Theorizing about possible characters in the future that can be race swapped how it could be a good thing and how it could be historically possible. You get the idea. I love what the show is done with all the race swapping it has added so much to the story.

And then all the sudden I woke up to my inbox being full of over 100 anonymous ask that ranged from the average calling me evil racist. I didn't know the books. How dare I it was ruining the story. I should kill myself. The usual online internet harassment. It was horrible. And they kept on coming and would not stop until I shut off anonymous ask. And they will remain off because of this but again I had well over 100 messages to go through. And it took me well over a week to go through them but when I got to like the last I think 10 one of them stuck out. Not because it was particularly bad because apparently I pissed off the Armand people who don't realize how creepy it is and kind of comes off as pro pedophilia when all of you insist that he has to be 17 much less the racist issues. There's a reason it took me over a week to go through all the messages they made my skin crawl. But this particular message scared the crap out of me it was a death threat with my home address. Someone cared so much about a fictional character. They tracked down my address and threaten to kill me. So guess who immediately started screenshotting the rest of the messages. And had to make a police report. Do you know what it's like having to explain to cops? Yes, I got a death threat with my address over a fictional gay vampire. No, getting death threats over Tumblr is not new to me unfortunately, but my address was new and that I want documented. So being harassed by a couple racist book purists turned into a police report and me buying security cameras. Thank you Tumblr. I nearly deleted the app.

I don't even know if I want to finish the Vampire Chronicles books now because of you idiots you took it way too far. And the worst part is I'm white. I can only imagine what you idiots are doing to the fans of color. Again someone tracked down my address to threaten to kill me. But again it's documented. I filed a police report and if any of you idiots try something I got cameras now.

And for all those who are going to be demanding proof well I thought about sharing a redacted screenshot or maybe a redacted version of the police report. But I decided I would ask the cops what they thought just to be safe. I'm glad I did because they advised me not to do that and they explained to me there is technology out there that if someone really wanted to they can remove that redacting. And I already have one crazy person that knows my address and is threatening to kill me so I don't want another one. So everyone is just going to have to take my word for it. However the cops were all for me sharing my story because of the rise of things like swatting. A in a nearby police department had to deal with a middle schooler (so a 11 to 13-year-old) who made a bomb threat at their school because they didn't want to take a test. So, they think this would be good for people to hear because what you do on the internet does have real life consequences.

So remember people the internet is real life. These things have real life consequences. And I'm pretty sure these people thought it was a joke. But now I have to worry about things like someone breaking into my house killing me or swatting. Which is something I didn't even think of until the cops brought it up. And it does affect my real life. I'm looking to move and hopefully we'll be out of my house soon. So, thank you, Internet stranger

So to sum it all up. The fandom needs to take a bunch of chill pills and calm down. Because we are literally harassing, bullying and threatening people out of the fandom. Again, I thought about leaving Tumblr due to this experience and now I'm having to move. Thank you. Interview with the vampire fandom please do better.

[the-real-loser-otaku-girl]

If i die tonight ima make it look pretty

[byyliss]

Congrats twitter, you might have driven someone to suicide. Like, what the fuck is genunely wrong with all of you?

I get that all of you who still for some reason believe in Ven and DB don't like that people are pointing out the amount of bs they put in that Google doc and follow up posts that just proved that they aren't victims of shit. But to go out and harrass anyone that points that out? Send death threats? Tell them to k*ll themselves?

Genuenly, what the actual fuck is wrong with all of you?

Stop pretending you want to fight against pedophiles, that you want to help victims. This is bullshit and you all know it.

The reason that you are doing all of this is because you guys want to hurt people, you want to feel morally superior while doing so. So whenever an allegation comes out that dehumanizes a popular person, you get trigger happy and jump on the mob to drive that person to the edge, along with anyone that tries to keep calm and actually stay neutral.

If you guys have no issue sending death threats to someone just because of an internet disagreement, you are all worse then Alex kister and anyone else you persecuted.

At least Kister isn't proven to be a rotten asshole. You all on the other hand

If you think this is ok in any fucking way, you are genunely devoid of humanity. I cant even say that you are broken because that could imply that you had some humanity to begin with.

Fucking rotten.

[im-jesus]

if you died once than you can do it again. you're disgusting. fuck you. go kill yourself. i hope you die

bold of you to assume i haven't tried

kudos on spelling everything well, though. have the day you deserve, nonny! <3

[twilighttrekkie]

Winslow Leach being one of my favorite characters ever compilation [TWs in tags!!!] YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE THE HELL I WENT THROUGH TO HAVE THIS POSTED TO ANY SOCIAL MEDIA AT ALL

Mostly made this for a friend who wanted reference as to what Winslow's like since they haven't seen the movie :3 Just used clips of his Phantom persona for this since it was already getting too long lol, also once he becomes The Phantom he gets a million times more bird-like, it's great If y'all want me to make a shorter comp of pre-Phantom Winslow at any point, lemme know!! Anyways GO WATCH PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE IT'S SO PEAK YET SO UNDERRATED PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TRUST ME IT'S SO GOOD

[nanaboo-pumpkaboo]

i'm surprised it's not been brought up more that azelf is kind of a fucking asshole. they really just spotted A Guy and spent a million eons trying to orchestrate the perfect plan to make him their backup body. which included ruining his life over and over

Yeah. It's really fucking great. Another guy getting fucked up by another fuckin legendary, fan fucking tastic

[Willpower] Ah but it worked out in the end, Mr.Grimshaw is much happier with the person he has become, he is better, no?

[VENGEANCE] What if we didn't want to get better? What if we wanted to get worse? What if we wanted to live a life not worrying if some deranged bitch is going to kill us and everyone we love. What about that?

[Willpower] I sup-

[VENGEANCE] Take that stupid fuckin red chain of yours and string yourself up by it. You are a disgusting beast and I would spend the next few eons beating you until my hands were reduced to stumps. Never speak again and it will be too soon.

[the-real-loser-otaku-girl]

wow thats so interesting lol what if i killed myself :3

[disco-self-ships]

So so self indulgent Proximus/Tacitus drabble. My god.

Tacitus tenses as he hears Proximus's footsteps approaching. He stands very still as two thick arms wrap around him and Proximus's body presses tight to his back.

Proximus's mouth nearly touches Tacitus's ear as he speaks in a low tone, "If you ever let anyone else touch you, ape or human, I will have them publicly executed. You will watch. And I will punish you personally."

Tacitus sucks in a panicked breath. He knows that becoming involved with anyone else is forbidden; he doesn't need to be told. He would never risk it, not when he knows better than anyone how brutal and possessive Proximus can be.

Proximus reaches down to catch one of Tacitus's slender wrists in his hand. He briefly tightens his grip, making Tacitus flinch.

"Maybe..." Proximus keeps his mouth to Tacitus's ear, letting his breath wash hot over his skin, "I would snap one of these pretty things. Maybe both. You would be remiss to lose these clever hands."

Tacitus lets out the breath he'd been holding in a shaking exhale. He says, in a small voice, "I'd never... I would never betray you like that, my king."

Proximus smiles and murmurs, "You would never betray me, at all, isn't that right?"

"Of course not." Tacitus's voice comes louder now. He forces himself to take a deep, slow breath as he turns to face Proximus. "I would never betray you, my king. Never." He forces himself to look into Proximus's dark, hungry eyes as he says it. That gaze being aimed at him never fails to send a shiver down his spine, occasionally of pleasure, more often of fear, and sometimes of a sickening mixture of both.

"That's good, pet. I'm glad you understand."

Proximus exits the room without another word, leaving Tacitus to collapse into a chair and bury his face in his hands until his breathing finally slows.