#you cant worry about a leak in a storm

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

they wern't lying this pain and exhaustion sure is chronic

[monkiebois]

Headcannons masterpost

Tw's-Sun wukongs headcannons include alot of violence and torture from his past. Nezha's headcannons include him unaliving himself.

General Worldbuilding-

to release excess magic, some characters can exhale a smokey substance. The thickness of the smoke depends on how much magic they exhale. Each character's "smoke" looks different.

characters that can do ^^^ that are. Sun Wukong, Macaque, Mei, Mk, Pigsy, Azure, Redson, DBK

Sun Wukong-Aroace-Genderfluid-He/She/They

Aroace, She only likes Macaque, everyone else? meh couldnt care for them. Macaque though. Yes perfect, small, perfect tempurature, huggable size, kinda sassy sometimes but its cute. He is Aroace and only wants Macaque around-relationshipwise.

gonna draw his Hc desing sooooon

Because of his time in the furnace not only was his magic sharpened but his apparanced changed as well

Of course his eyes turned red, the sclera a dark and deep crimson and his pupils gold.

The his fur was permanently changed as well, parts permanently burnt to an dark orange/crimson color.

Since his magic was sharpened as ell he was of course stronger as he left the furnace, because he became stronger his magic leaks out of him in multiple ways when worked up.

When calm he has strands of gold at the front of his scalp.

the more he gets worked up/the more magic he uses without glamour, the more the gold spreads throughout his fur, tracing his scars.

His scars are normally a lighter shade of the crimson color of his burnt fur.

Macaque-Trans-He/Him

Nezha-Aroace-He/him

Nezha is eternally twelve. he has an adult form simply because he doesnt want to be condescended by his peers in heaven or anyone else. its also easier to do adult things in this form so he uses it very often.

Nezha was born with white hair in Investiture fo the gods but he is often interpreted with black hair. So I HC he was born ith white hair and after he came back from the dead his hair turned black and he only has a small section of hair left thats white. its a small section and easily hidden

you can interpret Aroace Nezha as either a twelve year old wanting to stay away from cooties or Nezha being sex/romance repulsed. either one works.

Theres one person they let close and thats thier fellow young immortal Longnu (i dont know much about her so ill add stuff about her later)

Nezha is Autistic.

they are Magically disabled.

In Investiture of the gods Nezha kills himself to stop the dragon king from throwing a tsunami and a storm into his home. Also as an act to keep any blame from thier parents for killing Ao Bing.

its alot of graphic stuff that i wont mention here but because of this after Nezha was reborn into a lotus body scars remained of that on his body.

primarily on thier neck and around thier torso.

another fact about the lotus body is that its not strong enough to contain his powers.

He was born with powers and strength of a god but the lotus body is not enough to contain it.

Nezha can use thier powers like a normal god but also uses alot of weapons to assist them because if they use too much it will strain the lotus body.

remember when Bai He's body started cracking because lbd's power was too much for her. the same thing but pink happens to Nezha.

they have a war form that is bassically engulfed in pink flames, two extra arms and sometimes two extra heads. along with more accessories, thier eyes turn pink as well. i need to draw this.

well they cant use this form for too long, if he does his body will start to crack and crack until it shatters and they turn into a lotus to rest and heal. kinda like the crystal gems

you can really tell when Nezha is upset when his hair starts turning pink and flaots like fire (god form leaking through). like he has to be REALLY exited (good or bad exited) for that to happen.

He has taken Mk as his little brother, he will kill for Mk

Same for Mei but she seems more feral unlike sweet Mk. So he's not very worried about her.

little form Nezha likes to jump onto Mk's back and be carried. they also like to do this with Wukong

Wukong adopted Nezha, she has a room in her house for Nezha to come and visit and stay whenever he wants for however long they want.

Wukong is Nezha's emotional support monkey and before Mk came around he was the only emotonal support monkey. Now Nezha has two. Mk and Wukong.

Mk-Trans-Pan-He/him

Mei-Lesbian-She/her

Redson-Gay-Genderfluid-He/she/they

Pigsy-Gay-He/him

Tang-Trabs-Gay-He/him

Lady Bone Demon-Aroace-She/her

Mayor-He/him

Spider Queen-Lesbian-She/her

Bai He-?????-She/her

[anon-e-miss]

AU where Jazz runs a TON of charge. It takes ten spike overloads to satisfy him, and he doesn’t have a refractory period. After ten overloads in a row, he tends to go utterly feral—as if he’s in rut. Just mounting and clawing and biting and rutting away until he finally knots his partner and blacks out. This is only occasionally a problem, because basically no one can handle getting him off ten times in a row anyway.

Prowl, SiC, sees how this endless charge is impacting Jazz’s work (and quality of life). He has a crush, but he tells himself that’s not his motivating factor. Jazz needs someone he can trust to see him to blackout. Someone who won’t tap out three overloads in. Someone who won’t judge him for getting increasingly desperate and feral and possessive as he frags them.

Jazz maybe thinks no one could tolerate that kind of behavior. He might feel ashamed of the fantasy he has of ruthlessly fucking someone completely helpless. Someone who trusts him. (Possibly someone who would trust him enough to knowingly drink drugged energon hand fed to them)

Fortunately for him, Prowl thinks that fantasy is HOT AS A SMELTER.

Time for Jazz to finally get some satisfaction.

Despite the war ravaging the planet, Cybertron was seeing a mixing of frametypes like never before. It was by in large a positive as cultures that once stood well apart rubbed one side by side. It was not entirely positive. The differing needs if frame types could class, as Praxian Prowl had experienced this firsthand but at the moment he was not worried about himself or his framekin. He was worried about Jazz.

As Praxus had segregated itself from its neighbours with the great dome, Polihex had itself been segregated, the nomadic and semi nomadic groups had roamed the Wastes and the Rust Sea without fear of heat or storms where no other frametype had. Their frames had developed their own quirks and one of Jazz’s was coming into play.

He needed to frag. But Jazz did not trust so much and so easily as mechanisms thought. Why anyone believed a spy would be trusting, Prowl could not begin to understand. There were Bots Jazz trusted, his team, of course but his team did not comprise mecha capable of taking what Jazz had to give them. He was starting go get snappy, standoffish. It was effecting moral, that seemed like a good excuse.

"You need to frag," Prowl declared as Jazz smacked the datapad he was fiddling with. The Polihexian's visor flashed white.

"Not really yer business, Prowl," he replied. Prowl flicked a single doorwing.

"It is affecting your productivity," Prowl said. "There is no way in Pit I will authorize your deployment when you are in such a state."

"Ya can't order me to frag," Jazz said. "OP would have yer helm."

"Why would I order you?" Prowl asked. "We both know how well you listen to my orders. I am offering my assistance."

"I would ruin ya in two overloads," Jazz said. "Not worth the effort."

"You will find I was forged for endurance," Prowl replied. "I could take anything you give and more."

Jazz stared at him and cocked his helm as he looked Prowl up and down. Prowl did not flinch from the hungry in the mech's expression. He had won, and he knew it. At the best of times Jazz was hard pressed to resist a challenge. This was far from the best of times.

"We'll see."

There was something to be said for Jazz’s self-restraint, he had more of it than anyone, including Prowl would have guessed. He did not push Prowl down on his desk and frag him, but made an honest to Primus appointment for the coming dark-cycle and suggested Prowl take them both off the schedule for the next mega-cycle. Prowl had never gotten so thoroughly fragged that he could not work the next mega-cycle but he acquiesced. It was not as if he could not put himself back on duty as it suited him.

They met in Jazz’s quarters rather than Prowl’s, though Prowl’s rank afforded him best quarters; he had never changed from the original suite he had been afforded as a tactical officer. All he used his quarters for was recharge and the narrow berth was adequate for that. That berth would not serve a marathon interface. Jazz’s would serve that purpose far better. Prowl was not clear of what expectations he had possessed prior to his arrival but every preconception fled as soon as he stepped through the door. That unexpected self-restraint he had observed in Jazz in the light-cycle was gone and as soon as Prowl entered, Jazz was there. Prowl gasped with start as Jazz effortlessly disrobed him.

“Nice tits.”

Servos cupping Prowl’s wells, Jazz pushed Prowl up against the wall and covered his mouth in a crushing grip. He hiked up Prowl’s leg, hooked it over his hip and shoved Prowl’s modesty panel aside as it was still retracting. Prowl moaned into the brutal kiss as Jazz’s ground his palm into his node as his digits spread his folds. The preparations were quick, rough and Prowl was at a loss to do anything but cling to Jazz’s shoulders. He was embarrassingly wet, just dripping with slick before Jazz’s digits ever entered him. His valve made an obscene squelch as Jazz digit-fragged him, spreading his too long empty lining. Apart from the squelch all sounds of Prowl’s overload were muted, swallowed by Jazz’s hungry mouth.

With the nip of his swollen lower lipplate, Jazz broke the kiss and stared into his glassy optics. Prowl dug his digits into Jazz’s shoulders as the other mech suddenly pulled his leg over his shoulder and drove his spike deep into Prowl’s frame. The speed and the force knocked the intakes from Prowl and the sudden stretch burned but along with the burn was a sudden scalding pleasure as his internal sensors and nodes were quickly triggered. It was embarrassing how quickly he overloaded, screaming Jazz’s designation, before Jazz had even sheathed himself in his quickly spasming valve. His leg, the one still on the floor felt like gel and he trembled. Before he could fall, before he could even secure his grip on Jazz’s shoulders, Jazz yanked that leg out from under him and held him up as he thrust up into Prowl’s valve, carving through his internal seal, carving him open. Prowl’s mouth fell open in a shocked O. His doorwings smacked back against the wall. Jazz groaned, denta clenched as he took his pleasure. Blistering hot transfluids flooded Prowl’s tank. He panted. That was one for Jazz. How many did a Polihexian usually have in a session? Oh yes, ten or twelve.

Jazz’s spike was already pressurized again before he pulled out of Prowl. He tossed the Praxian over his shoulder and carried he over to his berthroom. Prowl squeaked when he was tossed onto the berth. Flushing madly, he shuffled back so his helm rested on Jazz’s pillow, then through his legs open and canted his hips as he reached between his thighs and he moaned as he held the rim of his oozing valve open. When Jazz fell over him, Prowl cried out with ecstasy. Jazz held Prowl’s legs up and open as he filled him in one great plunge. He caught Prowl’s nozzle between his denta and nipped and sucked.

With his helm pulled back by the firm grip Jazz had on his chevron, Prowl grunted and panted as Jazz reamed out his aft pipe. He had always enjoyed aftplay and nothing at all had changed here. Prowl dug his digits into the blankets below him and he pushed back into Jazz’s churning thrusts. His wells, too large for his frame, swayed under him. Jazz covered Prowl’s long neck with denting bites. When Jazz pulled out, transfluids drooled Prowl’s slack rim. That was three.

“New ya’d have a tight aft,” Jazz groaned as he watched his spend leak out of Prowl’s afthole.

A mech possessed, Jazz gave Prowl quarter, there was no respite. Prowl braced himself on Jazz’s taunt belly as he rode the Polihexian’s spike. Jazz tugged and pinched Prowl’s nozzles. He was rough as he played with Prowl’s heavy wells and fragged up into Prowl’s well fragged core. As his node ground into Jazz’s array, Prowl round Jazz harder, faster. His glossa lulled from his mouth as he moaned deliriously. Jazz reared up, taking Prowl’s nozzle into his mouth again as his digits drove into his drooling afthole.Prowl’s optics crossed and he overloaded with a wail as Jazz’s splattered his gestation tank with more transfluids. That was... four? Five? Prowl had lost track already.

He was not sure if he was overloading anymore, or if he just never stopped. Prowl panted as he twisted the pillow under his helm in his servos. Another pillow was beneath his hips as Jazz pinned him down, servos folded over his shoulders and drilled him deep. Prowl moaned softly as Jazz ran his servos over his back and doorwings and squeezed his round aft segments. He sucked a denta into the edge of Prowl’s doorwings. Somehow, Prowl found the energy to wail as he overloaded. His protoform rounded slightly as Jazz released into his tank again. Prowl panted. He spent. Jazz rolled him  and pushed his legs open. Jazz was not.

Jazz stood up on his knees and rutted into Prowl’s sloppy valve.The angle he was using dragged Jazz’s spike against Prowl’s gamma cluster and his internals clenched  as sparks flew across his vision. HIs peds curled, Prowl reached between his own legs to furiously, rub his anterior node. With a shrilled shriek, Prowl overloaded but Jazz never stopped stimulating Prowl’s gamma cluster and soon Prowl was overloading again, his valve sprayed lubricants out around Jazz’s spike.

Prowl drooled against the pillow as Jazz crouched over his upturned aft and growled as he plunged his spike into Prowl’s quivering channel. His protoform was bloated, inflated with Jazz’s transfluids. It was going to take orns for the swelling to go down, Everyone was going to think he was carrying. Something heavy and solid ground against Prowl’s slack folds. The knot. He still needed to take Jazz’s knot. Prowl sobbed as the thick swelling at the base of Jazz’s spike butted against his rim. As it was, he was already so full. Overwhelmed, Prowl tried to wriggle away but Jazz bit his doorwing and hiked his hips up, and forced the knot passed the last of his internals’ resistance.

Jazz’s overloaded with a grunt, the force of his spill so much strong and the amount so much greater. Prowl dragged his servo under him and felt his swollen belly where he was inflated with Jazz’s spend. Groaning softly, Jazz collapsed against his back and his spike twitch with another spurt of transfluids as he fell into stasis lock. Prowl tried to push himself up, to get himself out from under Jazz but he was too tired to dislodge the mech. His optics grew dim and he resigned himself to recharging with Jazz pinning him to his filthy berth and his spike knot deep in his tank.

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Wrong Move

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Word Count: 1500

Warnings: Kidnapping, slight mentions of drug and physicall abuse (If you squint, but lets just be cautious, shall we?)

Author’s Note: I am once again killing two birds with one stone. This was submitted by the lovely @emmice9 for my 1500 follower challenge. And I’ll be using this for @hellotvshowtrash ​‘s #february2021promptchallenge. I would also like to say that this is A BRIEF LOOK into a new series that will be coming later on in this year. All because my brain cant keep ideas to one shots. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy. 

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. 

The world has changed drastically over the centuries. The world people used to know had changed when the creatures that roamed the darkness had come out of hiding. Vampires became the superior species, creating a completely different hierarchy within the world. Those that came from money were free from the torment and slavery of the Vampires. Werewolves and witches were far and few between. And when they emerged they were a force to be reckoned with that the vampires let them be. So long as they weren't attacked, they never retaliated and stuck to their own.

For the L/N family, they had come from money. Their wealth bought their freedom from the vampires. For the two children in the family they'd never have to fear being human. For the eldest, Alexander, he wished to continue their bloodline to ensure there was a truce between the vampires and the humans of their family. But for the youngest, Y/N, she wished to become a vampire and when she was younger, her parents made a deal with the Mikaelsons to ensure her status would carry over as a Vampire.

While most girls in her age dreamed of becoming something of themselves in the world that was created around them, Y/N wanted nothing more than to be a vampire. One that wanted to change things for the better. And the way the L/Ns had it, their children were going to mend bridges.

Unfortunately, the matriarchs of the L/Ns were killed in an accident that left them as orphans. Alexander being the eldest was given the burden of being the head of household and he uncovered his parents' secrets. Before their death, his parents made a deal with another Vampire. And with their death, it broke the deal between them. It left them on the verge of bankruptcy and being tossed in with the other humans.

Y/N stood outside the double wooden doors as she listened to the muffled sounds of her brother arguing with a vampire. Alexander was in there for more than an hour speaking with the vampire that held the deal with their parents. Seeing as it was a matter for the head of house, Y/N couldn’t be in the room. But where she stood she could pick up on her fair share of things.

Most of it had been about money, or the lack thereof. Being in debt to a vampire left any human feeling unease and Alexander was no different. Especially as he looked across the table at Tristan De Martel. If there was one thing they learned, the De Martels were the downgrades of the Mikaelsons. Where the Mikaelsons held their deals in good faith, the De Martels could find a loophole within the contract to work in their favor. And that was what happened with their parents.

Y/N’s heart dropped when she heard her name being brought up in the conversation. While She couldn’t hear what was being said, she knew it had upset her brother. His voice had raised while the vampire’s remained calm. The longer her brother yelled, the more worry filled her. And the words she picked up on hadn’t made anything easier.

When the doors opened, a chill ran through Y/N as she looked over at her brother, attempting to ignore the way Tristan had gazed at her as he walked passed. The look on her brother’s face had told her this wasn’t the end of things. That the conversation he just had wasn’t an easy one and he was left with hardly any choices.

“Were you able to come to an agreement?” She asked as soon as she knew Tristian would be out of earshot, even for a vampire.

Alexander nodded as he ran his hand over his face. “One that I do not fully agree on.”

“Well?” She asked after a moment of her brother not saying anything. While she may have been able to pick up on bits and pieces of the conversation, it wasn’t everything she needed to know. And when her brother hesitated once more fear filled her.

“What did you promise the De Martels?” She asked as she took a step towards him. He didn’t know how to answer her. Not when it had to do with her. But the guilt she saw written on his face had told her everything, causing her to shake her head. “No.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He said as he kept his eyes on hers, even as they filled with tears.

Y/N took a step back in disbelief. “No.” She repeated. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I had no other choice.” He said as he watched the tears form in her eyes.

“I have a deal with the Mikaelsons, you can’t just go and make a deal with the De Martels to hand me over.”

“If it means keeping our family name in good standing, I’ll do what is needed.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. But they had been true. Tristan had offered a deal and Alexander jumped on it. Tristan would clear the family’s debt and void out his parents contract if he got Y/N in return.

“You’ve sentenced me to die.” Anger began building within her. “Tristian’s humans never last.”

“You were going to die anyway.” He responded quickly, earning a hard slap across his face.

“On my terms!” She yelled. “Not by the hands of a vampire that keeps his own psychotic sister locked up! When Elijah finds out-”

“Your ties with Elijah no longer matter. Yes he gave our parents his word that you would join them. Your infatuation with each other sealing that deal. But this decision can’t be easily taken back and you know that.”

While they both know going against either families was a risk. But with the De Martels, there was a deadline that was fast approaching them. Y/N ran her hand along her face and shook her head as she turned away from her brother. She couldn’t handle this.

“Elijah might know how to get-” Before Y/N could even finish her sentence, her brother knocked her over the head with the nearest object he could reach, leaving her unconscious.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." He said as he crouched down beside her. "But I refuse to become one of them."

_____

The De Martels knew what Y/N would ment to the Mikaelsons. She was to be their saving grace. A chance to mend the world with siblings as a Vampire and her Human brother. She was also Elijah’s soon to be wife. Tristan knew he was playing a dangerous game. And because he knew her worth, he kept her hidden, away from any prying eyes that could possibly leak where she was.

Much like the other humans in De Martel's care, she had been drugged, used and abused by those within Tristan's circle. As she laid in the dark damp cell, all she wanted was to die. Her colorful dreams of the future faded to black and white wishes of death and peace as time passed.

Anger had filled Elijah the moment he stopped by to see Y/N and Alexander told him what happened. While furious with her brother he knew he'd always keep his word to Y/N to not ever harm him. It took him over a month to find Y/N's whereabouts. The moment he had her location there was no stopping him.

Elijah stormed through the De Martel home. Anyone that dared to stand against him had their hearts ripped out in a split of a second. Bodies and hearts had been left in his wake as he made his way through. Each one brought him closer to finding Y/N.

When the door keeping her in was forced open, Y/N whimpered in fear at the sound, unable to see who walked in from her position. She hadn't even begun to heal from the last time that door opened. But even as the footsteps neared, she couldn't get herself to move, her body too weak to try. Panic filled her as the footsteps ceased right next to her.

"Shh, shh," Elijah began, trying to keep Y/N calm. "It's me."

As he did, it wasn't hard to see how beaten and bruised she had been. Bite marks covered her body in several places. He had never felt so much anger before at seeing her injuries.

"'Lijah." It had been a whisper, but he heard it loud and clear.

"I got you. I promise I'm going to take care of you, okay?" He had every intention of never letting her leave his sight. He even made the promise to himself that he'd kill the De Martels with his own two hands.

But before the comfort and relief of being free set in, Y/N was rudely awakened by the sound of the door opening and shutting by the unwelcome guest.

Always and Forever Tags:

@taylordrunkonwhiskey @thewolf-and-thesheep @wayward-dan @neeadinghugs @fafulous @kenmen02 @elizamonet @dora-the-grownup @mschellehitt @xanderling @fandom-princess-forevermore @buckysarm4 @hi-my-name-is-riley @helenasingers @alka16555 @hellotvshowtrash @dpaccione @dumble-daddy @theactressstaringinyourbaddream @maldita-world @nikmikaelsonswife

Stag Tag:

@elejah-wonderland @xxsovereignsarayaxx @asiaaisa77 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @marvel-at-stucky

The Originals Tag:

@zillahvathek @obsessedwithvampires @mikaelson-emma

Bold tags mean for one reason or another I cannot tag you in this. If you would like to be added or taken off the Tag list please do so here

[craftypeaceturtle]

B is for Baby Time!

Summary: They finally get to meet the newest arrival for their family.

Note: Part of a series but can be read alone! The ABCs of their little family! Demus and Royality. 

The beginning- A is for Arrival

Next part: C is for Choas!

.

They got the call at exactly midnight. The second it turned to December they had prepared everything ready in case the baby would be early; they would not run around like headless chickens when the moment came. They had a baby carrier filled with blankets and a change of baby clothes that stood guard over their front door. But the 10th of December passed without any update. Remus was particularly insufferable but then again Janus had his own special brand of impatience. But all of that fell to pieces when they finally got the call at midnight that their surrogate had gone into labour. The baby was coming.

Janus blanched as he violently slapped Remus’ arm to get him up. He got up and started storming down the stairs all while silently gaping at the phone. Remus slunked after him before it suddenly dawned on him why Janus would be panicking at a phone call. 

The plan had been to sit at home and wait until the baby was born then drive carefully and calmly to the hospital. That lasted a good... 20 minutes? “Do you want to go and wait in the hospital?” Janus finally sighed. Remus’ fidgeting stopped for the first time since the call.

“Why? Do you wanna sit in a waiting room for hours on end?” Remus kept staring ahead. 

“Well I don’t know about you, but I can totally just sit here for several more hours.”

“We...” Remus sighed and wiped at his eyes, “We should be making the most of this really. Our last night of uninterrupted sleep.”

“Okay then, go to sleep then,” Janus laughed. Remus chuckled.

“Okay, let’s get going shall we?” Remus got up and held out his curled arm like the gentleman he was. 

“We shall... after you put actual clothes on. I’m sure the nurses don’t want to see your manky boxers,” Janus chuckled and pulled and flicked him with the waistband.  

They launched themselves at the car and only just remembered to actually grab the baby carrier. Sitting in the hospital room both felt like a relief and horrifically underwhelming. There were here now! They were here ready for any and all news. No need to keep anyone hanging. They felt productive just sitting there. But also... Both of them were just sitting there. In their rushed on jogging bottoms and baggy jumpers, with Remus’ wild bed head and Janus’ own frizzy hair lying limply against his back. They were both shivering as the December weather leaked into the waiting room. “Just time to wait...” Remus smiled weakly. 

An hour passed awkwardly. The second hour passed both quickly and also as painstakingly slowly. 

Remus’ phone vibrated from his pocket:

Evil Twin Bro- Hey, you know lots of weird stuff about getting different stains out right?

- yep

-also it really isn’t that weird. 

-it’s called being an adult.

Evil Twin Bro- Do you know how to get blood out of t-shirt material?

-is it dried or nah

-soak in cold water

-wash like loads of times

Evil Twin Bro- I’ll kill you if this doesn’t work. Also, why are you awake at 2 in the morning you maniac!

-could ask you 2

Evil Twin Bro- I asked you first. 

-baby’s coming.

Evil Twin Bro- Wait really??????!!!!!!!!!

Evil Twin Bro- Congratulations!!!! 

-haven’t got the baby yet. waiting 4 surro. 

Evil Twin Bro- Are you at the hospital?

-yea

Evil Twin Bro- How long have you been waiting?

-like 2h

Evil Twin Bro- Woah, that’s rough. How you holding up?

-dunno

Evil Twin Bro- You don’t know?

-feel like I’m gonna vomit. but also excited. 

-well I don’t know if it’s good vomit or bad vomit y’know?

Evil Twin Bro- I really don’t. What are you lot doing then?

-J fell asleep. I’m trying to save battery on phone. 

-So just sitting here.

Evil Twin Bro- Do you want me to drop stuff off for you? Pat was planning this whole thing for when you lot got the baby. He was going to cook you lot some fancy dinner and take it to you three. So I don’t mind helping you out! I could give you some muffins (trust me you’ll start to get hungry) and I have an iPad with a few films downloaded so you won’t need wifi. 

-jesus why cant you be like everyone else and send a sentence at a time

-we’re all goiufhgb   

-Hello Roman. This is Janus. Yes, we would greatly appreciate you bringing some stuff. 

Evil Twin Bro- Haha, no problem!

“I can’t believe you’re dragging him here,” Remus sighed as Janus wordlessly passed his phone back. 

“Why not?” Janus answered honestly. His whole being looked dragged down by sleepiness. Remus shrugged and looked ahead. Janus usually put so much effort into his appearance. Even the most basic ‘going to the shop’ outfit was a dramatic black and yellow gothic Disney villain who actually did crimes look. But he was simply shrugged over in the chair. He looked sleepily up to him through his hair. 

“Why was he even asking all that at 2am anyway!” 

“You don’t want him to come?” Janus asked, Remus heaved a sigh and plopped his head on top of Janus’. 

“I dunno... I think I’m just tired and panicky. It’s all good,” Remus muttered off to a whisper. He pressed a kiss to his hair and closed his eyes. 

He didn’t actually sleep. He just wanted to stop all conversation. People continued bustling in and out and Janus managed to fall asleep again with his chin propped up against his chest. He was even letting out a steady stream of snorty snores. Remus kept his eyes closed hoping no one would try to start a conversation with him. Janus was the talker to other people of their relationship. He only opened his eyes when he felt a firm prod to his shoulder. 

“Hey Reem,” Roman whispered before flicking his forehead. 

“What do you want dickbag?” Remus answered without thinking. Janus thankfully stayed sleeping. Roman only gave a pity smile and held out his bag. He pulled out some muffins and bottles of flavoured water alongside the promised ipad covered in glittery space stickers. Remus was too busy dumping the bag on the floor to notice Roman trying to get him to stand up. 

“C’mon.” He gestured to over where the reception was. Remus nodded heavily and gently prised himself from Janus. 

Now that they were further away, Remus saw that another hour and a half had passed. “Woah, you took ages?” 

“Yeah, I thought about waking up Pat and then you have no idea what a nightmare it was trying to find a 24 hour shop. Like it was so much harder than I thought!” Roman now spoke loudly with his on brand gestures.

“Right...” Remus fluffed up his hair and slumped into another chair. Hmm, just as uncomfortable as the other. 

“You okay?” Roman lowered himself to his eye line, looking like he was talking to a spooked dog, “Like really?”

“Dunno. I-I just don’t know. I feel a bit all over the place to be honest,” Remus flung his head back, “What did you lot feel?”

“Pretty much the same,” Roman giggled, “Patton was a mess. I think it’s always one person does fine while the other has an existential crisis. That was definitely Pat. But he calmed down the second he got to see Logan.”

Remus nodded, not entirely sure if he was actually listening or just getting lost in the sensation of his heavy head tipping up and down. “Fair,”

“What’s going through your head right now?”

“Dunno... D-Do you...” Remus started before whipping his head to face the wall behind him, “do you think I’ll be like... I dunno a good dad?”

“Of course,” Roman slapped an hand on his shoulder. He was looking forward at the waiting room with an awkward wonky smirk. 

“Okay listen. Let’s be honest. Being emotional and gross with you just feels weird. I’ve been fine with having a baby before this. This is purely me panicking right now. As you said, I’ll be fine. So we can we not do emotional conversation?” Remus laughed awkwardly but he lightened up once Roman relaxed as well.

“Oh thank god you said it!” Roman laughed and melted back into his chair.

“Why were you coated in blood in the middle of the night anyway?”

“I wasn’t coated in blood,” Roman gasped way too loudly which Remus cackled at. Roman blushed bright red and nodded at the concerned receptionist, “I got the most random nose bleed out of nowhere and I knew you were the entire person in existence who wouldn’t question me.”

“You make me sound like a total weirdo! I would question you!”

“But you didn’t!” 

They settled into silence for a bit before inevitably Remus felt the need to speak, “How the hell did mum ever cope with twins? Like that seems like a lot...”

“Right?! Right after we had Logan, I think my mother’s day presents probably tripled in cost. She deserves it. Like all the same build up and worry but then you have another baby to come!” Roman shook his head.

“Aren’t babies are fairly gross as well?” Remus grimaced.

“Oh yeah! Don’t be put off from it! Oh, I feel so awful but the first time I saw Logan my first thought was ‘ew’. They don’t look anything like babies at first. Like Logan was blue with a traffic cone shaped head.”

“Their head is all fragile and mouldable. Janus made sure to show me pictures of newborns,” Remus stared off into nothing before turning to him with his signature smirk, only a little more tired, “But I am so telling Logan you thought he was an ugly baby.”

“Ahem,” Janus stood before them with an expectant look. Remus smiled and held out his arm which Janus jokingly shoved aside to sit down on the chair, “Hello Roman, I’m guessing you’re responsible for the pile of stuff that was at my feet.”

“Yep! How are you doing?” Roman smiled awkwardly.

“Tired but that’s to be expected. Are you staying long?” 

“No, actually that’s a good point! I really shouldn’t stay out longer. Pat will actually murder me for butting myself in,” Roman stood up with an exaggerated old man groan, “But... please text when you finally say hello to the little guy! I expect pictures!” 

Once Roman left, they wandered back over to their stuff and settled into a long night. Janus tried to stay awake. He knew that Remus was having a freak out. You would think it would be easy with the bright harsh lighting in the waiting room and the constant buzzing of conversation. Yet, his head bobbed lower and lower before Remus finally guided his head to his shoulder. He really tried but the tiredness and mix of emotions left him helpless. Remus only smiled at his useless husband before settling himself into Roman’s ipad. He settled into the Incredibles without much else to do. 

It was 5am when Remus saw the husband of the surrogate walk over to them. He didn’t think about it has he flung himself upwards, flinging Janus wide awake. The guy looked exhausted. “Hey, Remus and Janus?” He asked, thoroughly mispronouncing Janus, with his hand held out. Remus nodded awkwardly before thrusting a still waking up Janus at him.

“Yes, hello.” Janus shook his hand firmly. 

“Hey so the baby’s arrived,” He spoke softly as he walked back into the winding corridors he emerged from. They quickly followed after him, “He’s 6lb and about 20 inches. A little small thing but all healthy and average.”

“Aw, that’s all good to hear. Congratulations,” Janus sleepily smiled.

“Thanks but I think I’m supposed to be saying that to you two!” The guy chuckled awkwardly before he opened a door for them. 

Inside was the mother looking absolutely exhausted, curled up into her pillow with her frizzy hair thrown about the place. Janus subconsciously flicked his hand through his own hair, only now realising that he never brushed it before coming out. Ah well, not like anyone was looking their best for the demon of the baby that woke them all up. And of course there was the star of the show.

The baby was fussing a clear plastic crib looking thing, his reddened arms flinging around with his tiny little feet occasionally kicking. His face was screwed up but at least he wasn’t crying. He was simply laying there. The little boy that would change everything. 

Janus managed to pull away from the sight and say something to the mother. Remus deserved the first moments with their son. 

Remus looked at the mother but she was busy talking so he quietly shrugged before holding his hands out. It felt bad. They baby was clearly still fussy but quiet. What if picking him up set him off? But his hands were also hanging over him now. Sighing, he gently lowered his hands so they just about touched the tiny baby. He was warm to the touch and Remus grimaced at his thoughts that erupted from that. Maybe it was just because he was in a warm room. It felt like he was five years old all over again. It was like when a relative you barely know has a baby and just dumps the baby in your arms because it’s cute but you have no idea how to hold this fragile floppy new human. 

The baby sniffled at feeling his hands slowly worm underneath him but Remus then swiftly took hold of him and brought him to his chest, quietly shushing him without thinking. Thankfully, he settled down instantly. He was somehow both tiny and way heavier than he thought. “Heya little fella,” He cooed as he tried to uncurl his fist. The baby’s tiny little fingers uncurled and pressed back against his own finger. 

“He’s gorgeous,” Janus sighed as he came up behind Remus.

“Aw, he is. What are you guys naming him again?” The mother quietly asked.

“Virgil,” Remus answered but he kept his eyes glued to his baby. Janus smoothed his hand over the baby’s head. 

“Oh that’s a unique name!” The mother chirped.

“Has two people with unusual unique names, it only felt appropriate,” Janus muttered but his focus was completely enraptured by the baby, “Reem, do you mind doing the last of the paper work, then we can leave you all to recovery.”

“Cheers,” The father smiled awkwardly. Remus held out the baby and graciously lowered him into his arms. He perked up when he felt Remus press a kiss to his cheek, god he was clearly felt so sappy today. Not that he could really blame him.

They brought the baby carrier into the room ready to take him home and of course his eyes caught on their supplies. They brought a infant onesie- the cutest and non-halloween themed one they bought- but yet Janus frowned at the thought of trying to wrestle this baby into clothing. He looked much more comfortable pressed to his chest that he did lying down but he still looked like he could be seconds away from crying again. Of course, he couldn’t even begin to understand how stressful birth must be. The poor thing. He awkwardly bent backwards and grabbed the same blanket they bought about a month ago. Despite how much he tried, he couldn’t get out the black marker stain. It was just the first blanket they grabbed when preparing. Obviously. Of course. The first thing they grabbed. He grappled with the baby to gently cocoon him in the purple blanket. The spider web spiral sat in the middle of his back making him look like their little spider sitting in the middle of his purple spider web. 

He didn’t track when Remus came back in. He didn’t even think to keep up conversation with the biological parents. All he knew was that he was slowly stepping back and forth while pressing his face into Virgil’s own squishy cheek. 

Their little baby Virgil. 

[recurring-polynya]

saw your tags and I’M BEGGING YOU something about the rukia vs as nodt fight maybe just a drabble however you see fit 🥺🥺🥺

I am sorry this took so long!! Anyway, this ask was in reference to this post about the fears Rukia experienced during the As Nodt fight. I honestly don’t know why I have never seen another fic about this, but if you know of one, send it my way!!

In any case, I don’t usually write dark stuff, but I am good at it, actually, so this one gets a TRIGGER WARNING: Intrusive ideation of the gruesome death of a loved one. Eight times. Probably some spoilers for the TYBWA.

PS: If you want to know more about the time Renji broke his arm in Inuzuri, it’s a shoutback to this.

Rukia is running, her filthy bare feet pounding against the hardpack. She can hear the echoes of other feet behind her, but she can’t tell how many. She skids to a halt, panting, and turns, eyes wide and panicked, ready to count one, two, three, four heads. Four plus her means that everyone is safe.

She is alone.

---

Rukia flinches, waiting for the lead pipe to splatter her brains across the dusty Inuzuri street. But there is no pain, only the sound of bone crunching, followed by a soft grunt.

She has been rescued. Renji, as is his way, has placed himself between herself and the consequences of her actions once again. His arm now hangs uselessly at his side, dripping blood steadily onto the ground. “Fuck you!” he screams at her attacker, who raises the pipe for a second swing.

This isn’t right, Rukia tells herself. This isn’t how it happened.

Hot blood splashes across her face.

---

They stayed too late in the 77th. Renji kept eying the pale clouds gathering overhead, but Rukia thought she could score a few of scraps of food as the vendors in the market were shutting down. Not only was she wrong, but the snow had started falling when they were still a mile north of the Inuzuri border.

Now they were huddled against the bole of an old, half-rotten oak, under a pile of what little brush they were able to gather before the visibility went down to nothing.

Rukia’s brain feels fogged and sleepy. She honestly can’t tell if she’s hot or cold, temperature has become some alien concern. Renji’s arm, wrapped around her, pulling her close, feels heavy, too heavy.

“Renji,” she mumbles. “Renji, don’t go to sleep.”

Her eyelashes are crusted with snow, she can barely see. She shoves her ear against his chest, and listens for his heartbeat.

There is nothing.

---

It is raining, but she can still hear shouts from the courtyard.

“I just want to see her, you flash bastard! I just want to know that she’s okay!”

Rukia tries to make her way to the front entrance, but the hallways of the manor are foreign and seem to reconfigure themselves as soon as she picks a direction. It isn’t right, she tells herself over and over, trying to control the feelings of terror that course through her. I sent him away. I sent him away so this wouldn’t happen.

By the time she gets oriented, Brother is returning inside, his haori dotted with rain. He is wiping down his sword with a cloth that is stained very, very red. “The disturbance is dealt with, Rukia,” he informs her. “You may return to bed.”

---

“I won’t let you take her,” Ichigo snarls, and plunges his sword into Renji’s heart.

The rage melts from Renji’s face, leaving only disbelief behind. His eyes meet Rukia’s briefly, before they roll upward and falls, face-first, onto the street.

Her feet are frozen to the ground, a scream is lodged in her throat, unable to come out. She doesn’t want Ichigo to die, but she doesn’t want this either.

“Unfortunately, that is not up to you,” her brother’s voice echoes in her ears, and suddenly, there is a sword tip protruding from Ichigo’s chest, and an equally surprised expression on his own face.

A strangled sound, not yet a scream, emerges from her throat.

---

Rukia is walking across a bridge. Her thoughts are wrapped up in her own pending execution, when she feels it like a stone plunging into a lake.

Renji is gone.

She grasps frantically for his reiatsu, for a trace, a wisp. The guards are prodding her, yelling at her. Her reiatsu sense is becoming flooded by Ichimaru Gin, walking steadily toward her, smiling his snake-like grin, but she sifts for the tiniest sandgrain, trying to find some evidence that Renji lives.

There is none. Renji is gone.

---

Renji’s body cants forward, he can barely hold himself up, but his grip on her does not falter. Aizen’s shadow falls over them both. Aizen is talking, talking, talking, but his words are just empty buzzing. Rukia is pushing against Renji’s arms, his chest. She’s not sure if she’s trying to get him upright again, or trying to free herself from his grasp.

Just once, she thinks. Just once, let me put my body in front of yours, you bastard, just once.

“Please, Captain Aizen!” she begs, her voice desperate and shrill. “Please, I’ll--”

“No.” Renji’s voice gurgles in his chest. One of his lungs is punctured. “I told you to shut up… Rukia,” he murmurs, and she recalls that he often says “shut up” when he means “I love you.”

Not again, I can’t take any more, please not again.

“I’m not letting go of you,” he curses her, before raising his eyes to Aizen. “I’m not leaving her,” he swears. “You bastard.”

“I see,” Aizen replies. “That’s unfortunate.”

This time, no one intercepts the blow.

---

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez saunters down the empty Karakura Street. “So, which is it?” he drawls. “Which one of you three is the strongest?”

Renji sidles a step in front of Rukia.

“No,” Rukia murmurs. “No, you weren’t there. You were off getting gored by Yylfordt Granz, you bonehead.”

“Not you,” Grimmjow decides, ramming his hand through Renji’s guts.

It’s not pleasant to watch, but Rukia forces ice through her veins and refuses to look away. It’s not real. Renji lets me fight my own fights.

Renji coughs once. His body hits the ground with a wet smack.

---

The Arrancar, this pulsating mass with Shiba Kaien’s face, levels Nejibana at her, when Rukia feels Renji’s reiatsu storming through the hallways of Las Noches, his footsteps pounding like a heartbeat against her spiritual senses.

“Give it up,” Rukia growls, forcing herself to remember clasping his hand in the desert, making him promise.

“I swear on my sword,” he’d agreed, reluctantly.

“Say it. Say the whole thing.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically. “I swear on Zabimaru that I won’t die for you, okay, Rukia? Of all the stupid--”

“It’s not! It’s not stupid! I can’t fight all-out if I have to worry about you throwing your stupid body in front of me the minute I start to lose! I’m strong, Renji, you have to have a little fucking faith in me!”

“I do!” he had protested. “Of course I do! I always have! That isn’t why… that’s not… I…”

“It’s not the time for that.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. “But I know why. You don’t have to say it.”

One side of his mouth quirked up in a humorless smile. “Yeah. Well. You got your way. I promised. Do me a favor in return and at least try to stay alive, would you, Kuchiki?”

The promises were real, and Renji kept his. She didn’t then, and she doesn’t now, either.

“Sorry, Renji,” she sighs and throws herself forward onto the trident.

---

Rukia is screaming. She is screaming and screaming and she can’t stop.

Suddenly, there is a loud crack, and As Nodt’s Tatar Foras begins to shatter around them. Daylight leaks through, at last. Rukia has access to her senses once again.

She scrabbles, desperately feeling out with her reiatsu, trying to find Renji. She doesn’t know exactly when it happened that she became perpetually aware of him. Maybe sometime during the Winter War, she spent so much time groping around for him that he became lodged in her head, a half-forgotten song she couldn’t knock loose. Since the Royal Realm, though, he’s been a noisy, omnipresent companion, a rhythmic bassline steadying the tempo of her own soul.

He is halfway across the Seireitei.

He was napping, but he’s waking up now.

Napping.

It wasn’t Renji that came to her rescue at all, but Brother, whom she supposes also has a right to a piece of As Nodt.

Renji is sure to get in another fight sooner rather than later, but at least if he dies, it will be because he wasn’t strong enough, not because she wasn’t. That’s a bit of a weird thought, Rukia realizes, as the paralyzing fear slowly recedes from her body. She doesn’t want Renji to die at all.

The solution is obvious. She and Byakuya will just have to finish this quickly, and then she can go protect that bonehead with her own strength. He will likely chew her out and then she can tell him to shut up.

“Do you still have any fears?” Byakuya asks her, trying to gauge if she has shaken the aftereffects of As Nodt’s spell. “Rukia?”

Rukia adjusts her grip on her sword. “No!” she replies.

[emily-strange]

Second Chances

So with some encouragement, I thought I’d start the John x reader fic I’ve had in my head for ages! I’m not forgetting about my Micah fic at all, for those who care ;) I just really can’t shake this idea. 

For the premise of this story, Jack is a little bit younger. I just can’t hurt that boy’s feelings!

Summary: You're Sadie Adler’s 18 year old daughter who was visiting from school when the O’Driscolls attack. How will you cope with gang life and your increasing feelings for someone who, on the surface, isn’t up for grabs?

Pairing: John Marston x female reader

Warnings: None

Chapter 1

It’s freezing. The world outside blanketed in snow and ice.

Everyone sits huddled into the small Colter shack covered in blankets and large coats; doing whatever they can to stave off the bitter chill that leaks inside.

Mrs Adler is situated between you and Mary-Beth. She cries into her hands and lets the tears drop freely onto her skirt.

“Mama, you have to try and calm down” you say softly. Only to be met with more wailing. You take a deep breath and make your way to the other end of the shack where John, you think his name’s John, lies in a terrible state after his wolf attack.

You can’t help but sigh and rub your forehead, trying to ease the tension that keeps building. You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a croaky voice.

“Things really that bad?” John quietly asks before letting out a small laugh; followed by a hacking cough. You rush to sit on the little stool near his head and ease him up to help him cough better. After he’s done you lower him back down and smile.

“Oh you know. Been better.” you smile softly and place his freezing hands underneath the blanket that’s draped across him.

“Yeah I bet.” is all he can manage to say before wincing and you decide that a bit of light conversation might be a good distraction for you both.

“I just needed to breathe you know? Grief….it’s suffocating at the best of times let alone when you’re stuck with a bunch of strangers. Not that we ain’t grateful! I’m not saying that. Just….it’s….” you trail off struggling to find the right words but John jumps in with an answer.

“It’s like you’re being crushed.” he says and you give him a small, sad smile.

“Yeah…that’s about right….you know I haven’t even cried yet?” you whisper and hang your head in shame. John reaches out his hand from under the blanket and lightly brushes your hand to get your attention.

“Won’t lie. I don’t know everythin’ that brought ya to us, been kinda out of it. But…don’t beat yaself up so much. Can see it in yer eyes….won’t do no good. Ya doin’ all you can ‘n thatsa nuff.” he says through his broken, chapped lips.

You find yourself drawn to his eyes. Beautifully vibrant eyes that tell you he knows all about beating yourself up. You wonder what happened to him.

You give him a tired smile, “How did someone so wise get beaten by some wolves eh?”

It makes you happy inside to see John smile despite the terrible shape he’s in.

“Nah we’re tha same. Not beaten. Justa bit bruised” he huffs out.

Before you can say anything else, the woman who’s been sitting with your mother the most, bursts through the door with her little boy. If you had to guess you’d say he was about 2 or 3. The topic of children has never been one you’ve been interested in. You usually just nod and smile as people discuss them. You’re happier to actually have a chat with the children rather than the parent.

Abigail storms her way over to John and you jump up and out of the way.

“John” she says rather curtly, “the boy wanted to see ya.”

You look at Jack and to be perfectly honest, the kid doesn’t seem interested in the slightest. He’s looking at the blonde woman who’s sat in the corner drinking with an old man. She’s making faces and little Jack is loving it.

Your attention is snapped back when John answers Abigail. You weren’t aware that they’re a family. In all fairness your mind has been elsewhere the last couple of days.

“Yeah, well, now he’s seen me.” John grumbles at her, not even looking at Jack. You can tell that Abigail is instantly pissed off by this.

“Guess I was hoping to see a corpse!” she shouts before walking Jack away to be in front of the fire.

For a moment you stand shocked at what you’ve just seen. It’s clearly a very messy situation and with everything that’s going on, you’re staying far away from it.

John looks at you and you smile awkwardly before moving back to sit with your mother who collapses onto your shoulder. You put your arms around her and rock her back and forth, like she used to do to you as a child.

You can’t help but notice that John is still straining his neck to look at you before giving up and relaxing into the thin cot underneath him.

Days pass and you move on with the gang. The 'Van der Linde’ gang you learn.

You arrive at Horseshoe Overlook and begin helping unload the wagons. You can hear Miss Grimshaw screaming already and the sound cuts right through you. As you’re carrying a large bag over to one of the tents you see Arthur walking away from Dutch. From what you’ve gathered by listening, and what you’ve been told, Arthur is his right hand man.

The bag is taken from your hands and you look up to see your mother.

“Go on” she motions towards Arthur and you smile; jogging off to catch him before he mounts up.

“Umm excuse me, Mr Morgan?” you call out and he stops, turning to look at you. He genuinely seems like a nice man. Fatherly almost. You’ve not seen him lose his temper yet as you have with the other men. Well, other than kind Hosea of course.

“Yes, Miss Adler, what can I do fer you?” he asks and you smile.

“Y/N. Please.” you say and he nods, saying in that case you’re to call him Arthur. You nod.

“Okay, Arthur. Well I was wondering if you could put in a good word with Dutch for me?” you start, “See, my skills don’t really lie with sewing and washing. I’m happy to do that of course, you’ve all been so kind to me and my mom. I just….I’m a really good hunter.”

“Is that so?” Arthur says smirking, but not unkindly.

“Yeah. Living where we did, I had to be.” you laugh.

You don’t see it, but Arthur looks across the camp and see’s your mother watching you both. She nods and mouths “please”. He subtly nods back.

“Well, hows about this. The woman’ve been yappin’ at me that they’re bored. So when I get back from runnin’ this errand, I’ll take you all inta town 'nd we’ll get some supplies. We’ll go huntin’ and if I like what I see I’ll talk ta Dutch.” he smiles and turns to mount onto his horse.

You smile a real smile for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Thank you Mr..Arthur” you say correcting yourself.

“No problem. Now, go help out before Miss Grimshaw gets ta ya” Arthur chuckles before riding out of camp.

As you walk back toward your mom you hear a grown from inside a large tent. Curiosity gets the better of you and you glance inside to see John struggling to turn over on his cot.

“Hey, need a hand?” you ask quietly as to not make him jump.

“Ya know what. A hand would be mighty helpful” he laughs and you cant help but laugh too when you see the mess he’s gotten himself into trying to get comfortable.

However while entering the tent you can clearly see that John’s only wearing his union suit without the blanket covering him.

“Umm” you clear your throat, “Maybe I should go get Abigail?” you say trying to avoid looking in his general direction. You point outside of the tent and move to exit before John jumps in.

“God, no. Please just….just help me shift downa bit. Please?” John sounds so fragile and you just can’t find it in you to refuse him. You meet his eyes and fight a smile.

“Okay” you say and go over to help him move down the cot. He gets his legs into a comfortable position and holds onto your arm while you use your other one to support his upper-back. Once John’s comfy you find yourself just watching his relaxed face.

“Ah thanks. Much better.” he sighs and you smile.

You take a moment to study John in the light of his open tent. The scars on his face are healing well but still look sore and angry, as do his bruises. He looks almost frail. There wasn’t much to eat up in the mountains, everyone seems a bit gaunt but having been missing for so long John seems to be the worst.

John snaps you out of your trance.

“Haven’t seen much of ya.” he notes.

“Um, yeah, you know. Its all been a bit manic” you laugh humorlessly.

“I was uh, kinda worried Abigail said sumthin’ to ya.” he adds awkwardly.

That takes you aback.

“What? Um no….no she hasn’t said anything” you say quickly while glancing through the gap in the tent flaps. You can see Abigail ushering Jack into their newly designated area of camp. Your eyes snap back to John as he manages to prop himself up on his elbows.

“He….he ain’t mine.” he starts and you find yourself fiddling with your hands, “She tells everyone he is. 'nd I got nothin’ against the kid but….he ain’t mine.”

This really is none of your business. But you can’t help the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.

“Why…why would she lie?” you ask quietly but before he can answer, the flaps of the tent are pulled open.

“John!” Abigail shouts before coming to a sudden halt in front of you. Your eyes go wide and you can’t help but stutter like a child who’s been caught stealing candy.

“I…was just helping…John….but I um” you say quickly.

“But you was just leavin'” Abigail finishes for you which John admonishes her for.

“Abby for God’s sake” he starts but you cut him off.

“No, I was just leaving. B…bye John.” you say even quicker and give a clearly angry Abigail a small, awkward smile as you sneak past her. She doesn’t give you any extra room so you have to make yourself as small as possible to get past.

Soon as you’re on the other side of the tent she drops the flaps and starts whispering harshly to John. You stand for a few seconds trying to work out what they’re saying before you give up and make your way over to your mom.

“You okay baby?” your mom asks when you join her on a large rock just outside camp.

“Oh yeah. Fine.” you sigh and rub your tired face.

“You weren’t made to be cooped up like this” your mom says before she starts crying again, “I’m sorry this happened”.

“Oh mama don’t say that” you say before hugging your mother tight, “We’ll be okay.”

You hold your mother as she cries. Rocking her back and forth, all the while watching as Abigail storms back out of John’s tent. She catches your eye and you look away from her. You can’t deal with all this drama right now. You have to get yourself back on your feet; to start rebuilding your mothers life. The one that was so cruelly taken from her.

“We’ll be okay,” you repeat quietly.

[diamondcamefromhell]

Timeless love

Jaskier x female!reader part 4

[PART 1]  [PART 2]   [PART 3]

Summary: This is an AU, where Y/N is a young woman, trying to make ends meet with her freelancing writing job. She lives in her small Nottingham studio apartment along with her cat Apollo. Things change when one evening as she is waiting for her taxi, she meets what she thinks is Joey Batey, but the man in front of her is convinced he’s Jaskier, a character from her current favorite show. Y/N now has to figure out what to do.

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 2,124

A/N: first of all, thank u for positive reviews and kind comments on this story so far, again, it is kind of a slow burner, everything is moving slowly but this is what the story really is, as its taking place in our world, where no dragons or strigas exist and the biggest monsters are, well.. humans? ya kno

but anyways, any and all feedback is appreciated <3

I have to cut our loses. We spend a good hour outside, wondering around my apartment building. But we find nothing, not even a smallest hint of what happened to make Jaskier end up here. The bard stays quiet for most of the search, as I can tell he is still very much worried about me.

He only speaks when he sees a car pass by, as it startles him so much he immediately jumps behind me. I explain to him what it is, or try to, and he relaxes a little. Still flinching whenever a car goes by, though.

We rush inside, before Dave decides to visit again, as I lock the door. Apollo comes to greet us, meowing, but I ignore my friend, as anxiety washes over me and I can barely contain it. I know my companion feels it, as he glues himself to me, following my every step as I rush to the kitchen.

I see Jaskier sit at the couch again, not saying anything. I want to break the silence, but know my voice would shake, and I didn’t want to worry him even more. I throw some toast in the toaster, I will offer him a meal as an apology. I put butter and cinnamon on toast, bringing it to him. I set the plate on the coffee table, sitting down.

“I’m sorry.” I apologize, as the man looks at me. I can’t put my finger on it, but his expression makes me feel weird.

“Don’t be, I over-stepped.” I shake my head, pressing my lips together. I am willing to swallow a bit of my pride for this man.

“No Jaskier. I just… I made a promise. To the stars.” I close my eyes, scared of him judging me. This way, at least I don’t have to see it. “That I would make it on my own. Whatever that it may be. I don’t like it when people help me or try to be nice to me. Makes me feel… weak.”

“But everyone needs help from time to time.” There is no judgement in his voice, so I open my eyes. He gives me a kind smile, as Apollo jumps in my lap, purring. “You are helping me, does it mean I am weak?”

“No.” I say, biting the inside of my mouth, trying to stop the water works from leaking.

“Then why are you weak, if I help you a little?” I can’t answer that, so I just look down, at my cat, who is now napping, soundly. He has a point. “You’re being unfair on yourself. Allow me to say this, Y/N, even my great friend Geralt needs help sometimes. And he’s the bloody Witcher. It does not make him any weaker, if anything, it shows strength.”

“I know.” My voice shakes a little, as I wipe my nose. My eyes may be dry, but nose was runny. “It’s just, I prefer to be alone.”

“I used to say that.” His mind drifts far away. I cant help but admire how beautiful he manages to look. “But I hated nothing more than being alone.”

“I have Apollo.” I argue. He sighs, looking at me.

“Y/N.” He speaks to me like I am a child. We lock eyes, and I see so much care in his gaze, I want to run away. But I stay. “You need people.”

“Either way.” I say, ignoring him. I am barely holding back the tears. “Eat your meal. I have something to show you.”

I spring to my feet. Showing him moving pictures may be a good enough distraction for now. Introducing him to some of the great Internet, so we can avoid the sensitive topics. I look down to see my hands still shaking, so I rush to the bathroom.

There I see Jaskier clothes in a pile on the floor. I sigh, folding them, as tears escape my eyes. I turn on the faucet, making sure the bard can’t hear my heavy breaths and sniffling. It takes me a couple of minutes of crying to clam down. I wash my face, avoiding looking in the mirror. I stop the faucet and flush the toilet, purely because I am scared to go out just yet.

When I do, however, he doesn’t look at me, and I feel relieved. I rush to the bed, grabbing my laptop, soon landing next to him. Our legs touch and I feel the build up static shock me, so I jump back. He giggles, but I ignore that, opening up the computer, entering my password in a quick move.

One glance at him, and I see how mesmerized he is, my heart feels like it will burst. I take a couple deep breaths, wondering what I could show him.

YouTube and Netflix both were dangerous, as they could have his show on the main page, I still bite the bullet, turning the screen from his eyes, going to youtube. As expected, my feed is filled with recommended videos from Joey Batey. I stare at Jaskier for a moment, wondering if somehow he could be Joey, just very confused and lost one. But then I remember the Instagram story, and know I’m grasping at straws.

I search for cat videos, not sure what else to show him. What would interest a man who thinks he is from a fantasy world?

“Look.” I say, pressing play. It seems like his eyes are about to fall out as he stares at the screen, I giggle landing my hand on his. “Relax.”

“What is this magic?” I pause the video, pulling my hand away. Our eyes meet.

“This, Jask, is video. Moving pictures, if you will.” He still seems confused. “We have these things called cameras, that can take not-moving images of a moment, so you can cherish it, or can take moving things, like this cat video. There is even more, people create characters and stories and film them.”

“Do you have a camera?” I nod, putting laptop on the table, as I rush to get my Canon. I come back, turning it on. I decide to use the view finder. I sit next to him. “Here.”

“How do I use it?” He asks, twisting it around, before he begins staring at the screen.

I explain. Then he takes some pictures, of my room, me, my laptop and Apollo. I take some of him, and we even try to take some together, as we both laugh, trying to fit in that small space.

Then I show him some films. I start with my personal favourite and a classic – Titanic. Stopping whenever he get’s to confused, explaining things. We move to more and more films, only taking a break when we both get hungry.

I take the chance and sacrifice my wallet and order us some pizza, which he seems to like. He tries his first fizzy drink, Sprite, and at first he hates it, but I see him sip it more and more as the day progresses.

It keeps up for a couple of weeks. We spend days watching movies as he slowly learns more about the way my world works. We spend some of my savings as I order different take out, but eventually he helps me cook some dinner for us. He slowly, but surely adapts.

Until it all crashes down.

I go to use the bathroom, leaving Jaskier at the laptop. When I come out, however, he is on his feet, anxiously walking around. I stop, my heart dropping to my feet. I see Joey’s face on the screen. No, not his.

I see Jaskier. A video of him, in the tavern, signing.  

He probably went to YouTube And found a video of himself. And a whole lot of questions.

My gaze goes from the screen, to the man, who has stopped pacing, and now is staring at me. His eyes burn, as I see betrayal written all over it. I don’t know what he even thinks is going on and I don’t know how I can explain it to him.

“Jaskier, please.” I point to the couch, but he just shakes his head. I put my hands behind my back, so he wouldn’t see them shake.

“What does that mean?” He asks, as his voice breaks. I feel my heart shatter.

“Please, sit down.” I try to plea, my voice slightly shaky.

“Just tell me what it means!” I flinch at his yell, fighting back the tears. No matter how much it hurts me, I know that he was hurting so much more.

“I don’t know.” I say, and that is the honest truth. His shoulders hang low. “Jaskier, I don’t know.”

“I’m a character.” His voice fills with disgust, as a sudden rush of bravery washes over me. I step to him, grabbing his shoulders.

“You’re so much more than that. You’re here.” I plead again, forcing him to look at me. “You’re you.”

“I’m not even real.” He hisses, escaping my grip. I wrap my hands around myself, as I continue staring at him, as he walks around. Looking for something, anything probably. Wanting things to make sense.

“Then am I crazy and just imagining you? Dave saw you too, Jaskier.” I raise my voice, which makes him stop pacing. Our eyes meet. “You are as real as me. This world just isn’t yours. How that happened, I don’t know, and we will get you home.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There is so much hurt in his voice that I want to hide under my bed. Run away. Escape. But I choose to stay, for him.

“There is no easy way to say something like this. I don’t even know what this is!” My voice cracks, and that makes Jaskier’s expression soften a little. The storm is passing. “Yes, I recognized you as Joey because he plays you. But you are more than Jaskier we can see on tv. You’re more.”

“Y/N.” Tears escape and that completely washes any and all anger the bard might have had. He comes to me, pulling me towards himself, until we are in an embrace.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.” I sheepishly say, as he rubs my back. “Hiding it wasn’t right. But explaining this… it’s just unexplainable.”

“I can’t expect you to have all the answers.” I shake my head, as he hugs me tighter. I hear him sigh. “I’m sorry. I scared you. You were trying to protect me.”

“You had a right to be mad.” I say, as tears finally seem to stop. I wipe my eyes and nose to my sleeve, but Jaskier doesn’t let me go just yet.

“You’ve been nothing, but kind to me. You gave me a home.” He lands a kiss on my forehead, as my heart melts. “I should be thanking you.”

He now lets me go. I wrap my hands around me, as I watch him go to the laptop, give it one final look, as he closes it. My heart breaks and I know he probably will look at it more. When I leave him alone, or at night. He will hurt himself more but he will never show me.

Because he knows it would hurt me too.

“When you said who you were, Jask, I didn’t believe it. I’ve seen the show. That’s how I knew about Geralt and Yen.” I confess, as he looks at me. His face expressionless. “That’s also why it was so easy to take you home. It felt like I knew you. Because if you were who you said you are… I’ve seen you. You were already part of my world.”

“You liked me?” He asks, crossing his arms. I can’t help but smile.

“I did. You were truly my favourite.” That makes him smirk, but his eyes remain sad. “Getting to know you, only furthers that.”

“I want to watch the show.” He says, and I knew he would. I bite inside of my mouth, as I think about it.

“I can’t stop you from watching your own story, Jask.” I say, hugging myself tighter. “I cant try and protect you anymore.”

“Watch it with me.” Our eyes lock as my heart skips a beat. He seems so sad and scared.

“Of course.” I say, swallowing back more tears.

So we watch it. We watch his story unfold. I avoid looking at him during these eight hours, scared of what he may look like. After the finale, I pause the show before another one starts. There is silence between us as I finally look at him.

He has tears in his eyes, and for a second time today, I feel my heart shatter.

[PART FIVE]

~~~~~~~~~~

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[siribear]

‘let glory take point,’ deacon says. ‘she’s the one with the armor.’ it’s true. glory’s the only one even remotely defended, her heavy jacket modified with metal plates stitched within the padding of the tan coat. she and deacon are only dressed in their plain shirts and jeans, for lack of any other armor available at hq.

‘after you, ma’am.’ whisper gestures, falling in line behind glory.

‘don’t call me ma’am,’ glory mutters, leading them through the metro.

thankfully, they only encounter raiders during their trek. the unorganized group doesn’t stand a chance against the three trained agents. glory draws all the attention while whisper and deacon sneak around to pick off the distracted raiders.

‘nice to see that even with your sneaky shit, you haven’t lost your touch, dee.’

deacon, almost in response, finishes off a raider with a clean shot to the head. ‘i aims to please.’

whisper slings an arm across his shoulders, now that the area’s cleared. ‘it’s why i keep him around.’

glory frowns and makes to flick at her glasses. whisper flinches backward, slinking behind deacon. ‘and he made you into a deacon 2.0.’

‘i have to admit, she’s the better looking between the two of us.’

whisper turns around to call the elevator and to hide her growing blush. only made worse when glory openly agrees. the elevator dings, and an automated voice announces its arrival to bzzt floor. ‘after you, miss glory.’

‘being pretty doesn’t make that any less annoying,’ she says, but still enters, and whisper can only smile.

down in the basement, they’re greeted by the haptic sounds of gunfire. immediately, deacon and whisper duck down and behind the minuscule cover the open elevator doors provide. glory ducks, winding up her minigun. no sudden gunfire slams into the elevator, but they can still hear the gunfire, followed by screaming. the only voices they hear are human, over the unmistakable sound of laser fire.

‘more synths,’ whisper says, low. ‘sorry, glory.’

glory sighs. ‘let’s just get this over with.’

glory takes point again as they slowly make their way forward, down a short hallway that ends in a left turn. slowly, at least, until glory charges forward, whisper and deacon on her heels. a handful of raiders, whatever’s left of the group that took over the metro, faces off against a squad of synths. unfortunately, the raiders are trapped behind their makeshift wooden structures, and even with the high ground granted by their constructed lofts, they’re no match for the synth’s lasers and glory’s minigun. the synths, on the other hand, have taken advantage of the stalled subway car, peering through broken windows and metal doors.

between the sharpshooters, the synths are picked off, sparks lighting the dim subway with every one that goes down. glory ends the remaining raiders in a bloody shower of red. all in all, they did well. no injuries on their side, but the carnage turns her stomach. they probably thought the trio could help them; everyone turned against the synths - but the raiders would have turned on them right after, no doubt. some dimming part of her feels - terribly guilty.

‘what’s going through your head, partner?’ deacon asks from his crouched position, hands deep in the pockets of a dead raider. he passes her a handful of pistol ammo, the bullets tinged red with blood.

‘idealism,’ she says, softly.

‘go on.’

she groans, frustrated. ‘just - wondering how many people we can prevent from turning to raiding, you know? no lack of food, water, safety. no need to turn to chems. that sort of thing.’

deacon stares at her for a moment, silent. then, ‘watch that bleeding heart of yours. most people are content to let you bleed out.’

‘yeah, i’m figuring out that much.’ the world pre-war was by no means perfect, but it still shocks her how bad things have gotten. but maybe it’s always been this way, just under the surface, the bombs blowing away the top level of society, peeling back the layers, leaving them with this. she doesn’t take part in the looting, this time.

when the scavenging is finished, glory stands near the door that will lead them back to the surface. ‘you know, this was actually a pretty good run. you two aren’t so bad. guess i can say it was good seeing you two, but i should report back to griswold.’ on the way up, whisper quickly runs her through the updates from the day’s earlier meeting. ‘hey, you find a way back into the institute, i want to be there.’ she cracks her neck. ‘storm the place, give my last fuck you to the assholes who created me.’

‘top of my list, glory, don’t worry.’

‘and keep an eye on the brotherhood,’ she says, motioning to the sky. ‘i’ve been seeing those vertibirds flying around. who knows what they’re looking for.’

‘duly noted, mademoiselle gloire,’ whisper says with a grin. deacon chuckles.

glory isn’t as amused - or not that she’d admit. there’s definitely a smile she’s fighting. ‘and you were doing so well.’

‘what was it? i aims to please.’

glory points between the two of them. ‘i’m getting out of this pair. right now. before i strangle the both of you.’

‘you know we’ll miss you terribly, gloria.’ deacon receives a friendly middle finger in glory’s wake.

-

whisper hardly needs his help maneuvering around the city these days. it almost makes him feel useless. almost. until he stops her from walking right into mutie territory; the mutants have moved further into the city, set up their favorite, bloody decorations along the buildings like christmas lights.

but his partner likes to walk the old roads, likes to wear away the poor, centuries old pavement. ‘save some road for future generations,’ he begs her, and, bless her, she takes to a sidewalk. leave it to her to think of the future.

so, maybe that’s why he appreciates her. it’s been far too long since he’s thought of the future. can’t appreciate the seeds you’ve sewn for the future if you don’t survive the day. she makes him think there might be an end to that.

whisper stops at the entrance to goodneighbor, hand stilled on the metal door.

‘take a hit to the head back in malden? forget how to use doors?’

she spins on her heel, puts her back to the door, and all deacon can think is: uh oh. he knows the look; she wants to talk. and he’ll talk, sure, but -

‘why didn’t you tell me about the tech you picked from kellogg’s brain?’

- deacon is, unfortunately, finding it more difficult to lie to her. she’s picked out enough of his bullshit, gone along with the rest of it. the act itself isn’t difficult - deacon’s been lying for years. but there’s a little part of him that whispers (ha) don’t lie to her.

‘didn’t seem important.’

she cants her head to the side. ‘try again. you can do better.’

see, he can. but he doesn’t want to. so he gives her the truth. part of it, anyway. ‘it might have been a waste of time. i figured, between tom and carrington, they’d find out if it was a lead worth pursuing.’

he notices the tension begin to drain from her shoulders. a leak, not a release. ‘so it wasn’t because you don’t trust me?’

so that’s what this is about. carrington must have gotten to her more than she let on. ‘of course not. i trust you.’ more than he probably should, but deacon still considers himself a good judge of character.

she catches her genuine smile, turns it into a grin, and he can hear the wink in her voice when she says, ‘thought you can’t trust anyone?’

he rolls his eyes even though she’s turned her back to him to push through to goodneighbor. ‘just you, partner,’ he mumbles, low enough that she can’t hear.

-

amari looks between the two of them before pulling away from her paperwork. the memory den is empty today, likely in preparation for what they’re about to do. though, irma had apparently been told who to look out for, because she had simply waved them on to the back.

‘do you have a geiger counter?’ the doctor asks.

‘mine is in the shop,’ whisper answers dutifully. the doctor’s hands return from under her desk and away from a pistol she no doubt has hidden. deacon has taught them all so well.

‘i recognize you.’ amari nods at deacon. ‘you’re the other one?’ when whisper introduces herself, amari’s eyes widen. ‘ah, i see. h2 mentioned you.’

‘he’s why we’re here. malden center is open again for one last run. desdemona is working on another route.’

amari closes her eyes and nods. ‘i thought as much. thank you. it was getting dangerous holding him here.’ she rises from her desk. ‘i’ve kept him the back room, but we’re going to need it if we’re going to go through with this procedure.’ she holds out a note with another shorthand - different from deacon’s own - scribbled in drummer boy’s handwriting. ‘your other friend isn’t here yet. i’ll go have h2 move to another room.’

‘no!’ whisper near-shouts. ‘i’ll get him, it’s no trouble.’

‘i don’t think that’s - ‘ amari begins, but whisper is already halfway to the back. ‘is this her first?’

deacon nods. ‘they got particularly close. she took a bullet for him.’ he remembers the look in her eyes when they were sitting in the lobby in ticon. like a mother looking at her son. how it didn’t hit him then that she’s a mother - ‘she’d find out one way or another.’

he can’t protect her from this.

‘he left this for her.’ amari pulls a holotape from her pocket. ‘that’s how i knew who she was.’

-

whisper is breathless, half-skipping down the stairs to where h2 waits. she takes in that mop of brown hair, his padded blue jacket, though he’s grown a beard since the last time she saw him. he sits on a couch at the edge of the room, staring down at his hands.

‘hey - ‘

‘whoa, lady.’ it’s h2′s face, but not his voice. this man’s voice is rougher, not the soft-spoken young man she met in the church. ‘doc said i’m in quarantine. i might be contagious or something. what’re you doin’ down here?’

there’s no recognition in his eyes when he looks at her. just confusion. ‘i, uh, i work with the doctor. she said you’re clear, and we’re moving you to another room. she’s - she’s upstairs.’

‘oh, hey, cool. i was gettin’ bored down here. only so many times you can count ceiling tiles, y’know? was tempted to take a little nap in one of those pods. anyway, upstairs, you said?’

whisper’s glad for the sunglasses when he comes closer. somehow, she keeps the tears out of her voice. ‘yeah, upstairs. she’ll get you set up to leave.’

‘thanks again, lady. nice meetin’ you.’

she doesn’t turn, just listens to the sound of his retreating footsteps. ‘yeah. nice to meet you.’

it’s where deacon and nick find her moments later, standing in the middle of the room, staring at the two memory pods in front of her. the former puts a hand between her shoulders, leans around her. ‘you okay? i should have warned you - ’

‘no, i needed to find out myself. i get it.’ she’s since dried her tears.

‘this is for you.’ he takes one of her hands in his, places something cold and metal in the center. ‘from h2. before.’ it’s a small holotape with her codename written on it.

she puts it in her pocket. ‘thank you.’

nick passes by the two of them and runs a leathery hand over the glass of one of the pods. ‘from what i understand, we’re jumping into kellogg’s memories. sounds crazy, but knowing the institute - ’ he looks to her. ‘you ready?’

the pod looks like the one she stepped into two hundred years ago, though cushioned and inclined. the top half is entirely glass, with a single monitor hanging from the top. static hums on the screen.

whisper takes one step toward it, then freezes. what if it doesn’t open when it’s over? what if she’s stuck again, two hundred years - she grabs deacon’s hand without thinking, grips it like she’s holding on for dear life.

maybe she is.

‘we’ll all be right here,’ he reassures her. ‘it’s just memories. kellogg can’t hurt you in there.’ he turns to someone walking by, and she sees dr. amari has joined them downstairs. ‘he can’t hurt her somehow, right? this is just routine memory viewing?’

dr. amari sighs. ‘routine is not the word i’d use. unorthodox, yes, but no more dangerous. mr. valentine here is the only one in danger of complications.’

‘nick - ‘

‘it’s all right, doll. i agreed to this.’

she sighs heavily. deacon leads her over to the pod and doesn’t let go of her hand until it begins to close. it hisses shut, the hinges clicking as it locks. locks.

‘your heartbeat spiked. i need you to calm down or the memory sync won’t work,’ comes dr. amari’s voice from a small speaker near her head.

calm. breathe in, breathe out. count to ten. breathe in - deacon taps on the glass next to her. the closed pod muffles the sound of him dragging a chair over next to her. i’m right here, she reads his lips.

‘that’s better. this is your first time, so i have to tell you: it might feel a little strange. the static on the monitor is white noise, that’s all. you will be viewing these memories, as if you’re there. but you will be viewing them from kellogg’s perspective. okay?’

‘okay,’ whisper croaks. her voice barely sounds like her own. like h2′s didn’t sound the same -

‘no, no, calm down. we’re almost there. mr. valentine is ready when you are. are you?’

breathe out. ‘i’m ready.’

‘good. sunglasses off, close your eyes, and - ‘

whisper feels a sharp shock at the base of her skull, and the world goes black.

-

deacon watches whisper through the glass, eyes closed like she’s sleeping, but her eyes move back and forth rapidly. her breathing is even, at least. he props his chin in the palm of his hand, and waits.

-

she’s in a bedroom, looking down at child drawings on a bed, worn out crayons spread across a threadbare blanket. a woman sits next to her, smelling of cigarette smoke and something - something else, something familiar, but she can’t place it. she wants to turn her head to look at her, see why she seems so familiar, but she can’t. instead, she flinches at a loud knock on her bedroom door and a louder, male voice screaming on the other side of it.

the woman slides a gun into view, the revolver she’ll come to know, and places a hand on hers. ‘connie,’ the woman says, and finally she looks up. mousy brown hair, bruises on her face, a split lip. ‘you can’t rely on anyone else, honey. this is the only thing you can trust.’

the gun is heavy in her small hands. the man bangs on the door again. she aims the revolver at the door, hands shaking. the man screams and yells, and she doesn’t pull the trigger.

i ran away from home, kellogg’s voice is soft in her mind. i think she wanted me to kill him, but i didn’t realize until i was older and it was too late. don’t know what happened to her. maybe she got out.

oh, whisper thinks.

‘that’s not it. we’ll move on to the next memory.’

-

she’s older now, a prominent scar on her face and leather jacket reflecting in the kitchen window. she watches her wife clean up after breakfast. she has a job to get to in the afternoon, but until then - she wraps her arms around the woman’s waist, presses a kiss to the top of her head. sarah, this she knows. she remembers her, because how could she possibly forget her? her face, the sound of her voice.

and then their daughter coos from her high chair, tosses around crumbs sarah will be finding around the kitchen for months. mary. almost two years old. thank god she’s got her mother’s face. don’t know what she’d do if mary inherited this mug.

surprised to find out i had a family, once upon a time? we aren’t so different, you and i.

‘another memory, then.’

-

she stalks down a hallway like death. she’s the reaper. she’s deliverance. justice. revenge. there will be no mercy when she finds them. the revolver fits perfectly in her hand. a voice calls to her overhead: ‘they died like dogs. and you weren’t there to protect them.’ she knows this voice. she hates this voice. she’s going to tear his throat out with her teeth. she kicks down a door and fires. one, two, three, four, five, six. one was enough. two through six were for sarah and mary. it doesn’t bring them back, but it feels fucking good.

not so different.

‘getting closer.’

-

she nurses a beer. or was it a whiskey? maybe it’s rum tonight. she doesn’t know the name of the bar, but it never matters. what does matter: there’s always a drink.

this was the start of it, she remembers. remaking a name for herself. answering to no one but herself. having someone else lord over her makes them think they own you. and, well, when you have something they can take away?

she takes the job from the drifters. kill some family upriver. names don’t matter. caps do. keeps the liquor flowing.

kellogg is quiet, contemplative. all she gets is the soft buzzing in the back of her mind, and then she’s shuffled off to the next memory.

-

she stands in front of a woman in a clean, white suit. not many people like that around here, anymore. and she’s got two robots flanking her with a third hovering just over her own shoulder. she’s already calculated every way to make it out of this alive if it goes bad.

institute. boogeyman. and apparently she’s gotten on their bad side. not her fault, really, if the institute’s been pissing off people with enough caps to buy her help to get back at them. the only solution she can see: the institute pays her more than that. no more problem.

so the scientist doesn’t believe her at first, that’s fine. she believes after she single handedly takes out three of their skeleton-looking synths before any of them can get a shot off.

minutemen for you, institute for me, kellogg says. how close we were to becoming the same person.

-

‘manual override initiated. cryogenic stasis suspended.’

no. no, no, no. please, she can’t watch this again.

she stares at the faces of the people as they begin to wake up. first, the confusion. then, the panic. they don’t need to open any of these pods. just one. a man wakes, a baby held in one arm. that’s the target. the man looks at her, then past her, and when she turns, she sees - herself. the back up. the pod hisses open, and the man coughs and sputters, never letting go of the child.

cruel. she wonders what the fuck she did to the institute to deserve this job. the old man could have done this himself. not hard to steal an infant from a man whose muscles have been held in stasis for two hundred years.

she raises her revolver when he won’t let go, though, and maybe that’s why she’s-he’s here. do the hard job no one else wants to do. she pulls the trigger, and the man slumps forward. the scientist with him takes the baby who cries loud, echoing off the vault walls. she wonders if that’s what mary sounded like when they took her. oh well. that was years ago and she was a different person, then.

she looks to the woman with murder in her eyes. she grins. this woman would be her justice. her deliverance. her reaper. if only they’d let her go. as it is, she’s the back up. the other scientist down the hall puts her back to sleep. the other poor suckers stay trapped in their pods, forced to suffocate until their end.

‘are you okay? your heart rate increased again.’

‘dr. amari,’ she whispers, throat laden with tears, ‘next memory.’

-

their little house in diamond city has started to become a home. shaun has started to pin his drawings everywhere. some of her, down to her distinct scar. some of his parents he can barely seem to remember. she hasn’t had the heart to tell him what she did. because she’s rather enjoyed - this. what she could have had. shaun’s got the floor covered with his comic books now, and he knows he’ll have to clean them up before dinner.

he’s a good kid. looks like a perfect mix between his mother and father. shaun laughs at travis rambling on the radio, or maybe it’s something he’s reading in his books. she’s busy cleaning her revolver, breathing in the moment.

it ends, though, as do all things. the institute’s courser steps through the door, and everything changes. shaun is to go to the institute, for good. and she’s to hunt down virgil, hiding out in the glowing sea. shaun looks up at her with confused, but understanding eyes. she doesn’t even get to say goodbye before he and the courser disappear in a flash of blue light, teleported back to the institute.

she spins the chambers on her revolver, listens to it click and whir. with a flick of her wrist, it’s done. she’ll set up in fort hagen for now. the old man will have her house cleaned out the moment she leaves, so she packs only what she needs. her guns, ammo, armor. her favorite cigars and booze, because if she’s going to the glowing sea, she’s going to enjoy herself before setting foot in that radiation bath.

she picks up shaun’s pile of comics and stacks them neatly on the desk. maybe whatever courser that cleans her place will take them back to shaun. she laughs, realizing how stupid that sounds. so she picks up the stack herself and throws the entire thing into the trash can.

she shoulders her bag and turns off the lights, locking the door behind her. at least she had the taste of her perfect little family.

good riddance.

now get out.

-

‘that’s it!’ amari shouts, but deacon isn’t listening.

he’s watching whisper wake up slowly, electrodes at the base of her skull falling as she pulls away from the chair. she touches her cheek, follows the trail of her tears from earlier. whatever she saw bothered her. a lot. she practically jumps when the pod clicks open, and he’s there in an instant, helping her out of it and steadying her shaking legs.

‘that’s why we could never find an entrance to the institute. there isn’t one. at least not an obvious one.’

‘teleportation - that’s,’ whisper starts slowly, tries to reform words. ‘how?’

‘i assume that scientist the courser - ‘ deacon stiffens. ‘ - mentioned, virgil, will know something. he’s your best bet. the glowing sea,’ amari says to him, the only one not privy to any of this, ‘that’s where you’ll find him.’

the glowing sea. a heavily irradiated expanse of land. great.

‘where’s nick?’ whisper asks.

‘he was up before you. i’m going to check on him, make sure there’s no side effects from that procedure. then i need to get ready to move h2. excuse me.’

amari leaves in a rush, but whisper stays where she is, looking dazed. he remembers the first time he used the memory pod, and he ended up much like this after it. though reliving the memories of an institute hitman couldn’t have been easy on her.

‘whisper,’ he tries, bringing her focus back to him, instead of the chair she’s burning a hole into. ‘you okay?’

‘deacon,’ she stares up at him, eyes wide. she opens her mouth to speak, cups his face like she’s trying to see if he’s real, and then her eyes shift down, and suddenly she’s kissing him.

his hands instinctively go to her hips, but the rest of his body is two steps behind his brain that is currently short circuiting. it’s over, as quick as it was unexpected, and he has a hell of an internal war trying to convince himself that he isn’t disappointed.

she pulls away slowly, eyes half-lidded, and she whispers, ‘thank you,’ against his lips, still so close he can trace out the syllables. whisper comes back to herself, eyes back to his, bright and hopeful. ‘thank you, thank you,’ she repeats.

‘wait. what?’

she’s still grinning when she bends down to pick up her sunglasses, fallen to the floor of the memory pod, and it doesn’t fade even as she drags him back upstairs to the main floor of the memory den.

[hey-hamlet]

BNHA AU Ideas: Power Transfer

Also on AO3!

TL;DR: 

One for all is a power that has been passed down for generations. Turns out the most recent generation can afford to be a whole lot more liberal with his sharing. Also turns out sharing quirks runs in the family.

An AU where Izuku can share OFA full cowling with multiple people at once.

shared power ofa,

izuku giving aizawa 5% of one for all durring the usj or izuku giving toshinori 99% of OFA durring the last fight

cause consider the world never finding out about small might, all might retires but izuku knows

the rescue team all having the max amount of ofa they can use, which is around 2% each, cause a lil sparking team of heroes

izuku using kirishima to give bakugo some too n them using it to get away

izuku having two quirks is my favourite goddamn thing bc him being able to share his quirk but not having anything to share is great

he gives bits to allmight, like a constant 1% so he can teach classes and do press stuff

some rando wants to do an "all might" where is he now segment and it spans a good few months so izuku is continuously in the background just

conspiracy theory starts that izuku is a villain or allmights son

a villain and all might's son

izuku has no double toe joint but the doc cant find any evidence of a quirk? so he tells them izuku is either quirkless or has an invisible quirk. something subtle, or specific enough to have not activated by now

bakugo kinda,, is chill with izuku. he was waiting for izuku to develop a quirk till he judged him, but he never did so he kinda withheld judgement long enough for them to become decent friends

anyway, izuku likes to ramble about different things his quirk could technically be, bakugo likes to join in. they can go at this for h o u r s cackling about stupid hypotheticals

they workout together, they both do boxing and try out random moves they see on the internet on each other. they have a pile of gym mats in the woods like the weirdos they are

bakugo is like,, convinced izuku's quirk is actually an intellect up but he just shrugs

izuku has to grab something before he heads home so he takes the underpass and we get basically episode 1 from there. all might says no, the villain gets away, attacks Bakugo. izuku runs in, throws dust in the villain's eyes and pulls at bakugo's hands. all might jumps in, saves the day yada yada

some background for u about all might bc his past is a touch different here. during the battle with afo, afo was distracted. all might sustained the same injures but won more easily.

night eye never looks into his future because "my purpose is done, nighteye. let's live like everyone else, no fate of the world on our shoulders" he never looks into all mights future again at his request

they stay together

so instead of the big argument they go get ramen and get drunk because they don't have to be superhuman anymore, they can relax now

back to the main timeline-

so izuku is already fit, cleans the beach in 8 months, nighteye supervises

all might gives izuku the quirk 2 months before the entrance exam, nighteye is there to "oversee" (he wants to see izuku choke on a hair and laugh at this kid hes become pretty fond of)

also mirio! is izuku's bro because i love he

izuku eats the hair and gets the quirk like, instantly which?? is confusing nighteye and all might. nighteye has like,,, hidden behind a car because hes the only person with self-preservation

allmight touches izuku and the lightning climbs up his arm and he just pOofs out into swolmight. hes ShooK, so is izuku

anyway, he manages to turn it off and izuku is just standing there like "oh my god what the fuck"

"izuku,, what,, happened there"

",,,, one for all??? leaked out??? into allmight????"

...

"nighteye come over here."

"izukU nO"

"STAND STILL NIGHTEYE I JUST NEED TO TRY SOMETHING"

nighteye is forcibly given a little of ofa and regrets a lot of stuff

anyway, izuku breaks an arm trying to use ofa and hes muttering trying to work out how to use it, nighteye basically says "well, think back to how ofa came about" and izuku is like ",,, what"

and nighteye screams because TOSHI YOU DIDNT TELL HIM?????? and allmight ",,, o o p s"

so izuku gets to hear the story of all for one while hes being driven to UA for recovery girl hes,,, really quiet for a second

"when did you fight him?"

"six years ago, april?"

",,, this has to be a coincidence"

hisashi went out on a "business trip" 6 years ago and they haven't seen him since. he calls, but hes never visited and izuku has this terrible feeling

because izuku cant calm down and because nighteye thinks this kid might be on to something they call tsukauchi and he agrees to meet them at UA

izuku gets treated, naomasa is in v quickly afterwards before he calls his dad he turns to nighteye, allmight and Naomasa

"i've never been able to lie to my dad. i thought he was just really good at reading me but,,"

"if hes afo he might have a quirk"

"yeah. so i'll just twist the truth. im good at that, but thats all i'll be able to do"

anyway, he calls up his dad and slaps this big grin on his face. the phone is on speaker

"hey dad!!!!" "izuku! is something wrong?"

"oi, cant i call my dad for no reason?"

"you, willingly calling someone? dont make me laugh"

izuku giggles despite himself

"anyway, you'll never guess!!"

"did youuuu,,,, hmmmm, meet all might?"

they freeze but izuku just laughs

"yeah,, but thats not the most exciting thing!!! my quirk came in finally"

"oh?"

"yeah! imagine the worlds most basic power enhancer, but i can share the energy! you have any idea where that could have come from?"

"no! i can't think of anyone in our family with a quirk like that! sounds crazy!"

naomasa looks grin, and mouths "liar"

izuku pales but keeps his smile

"do you think you could visit, id love to show you!! oh, maybe we could test it together! you always had the best ideas for my quirk notes"

"id love to izuku, but im stuck in america for the near future, you know it is. i'll see what i can do tho, ok champ?"

naomasa shakes his head again "lying" izuku looks like hes going to be sick. nighteye is pale, all might looks stunned. izuku grits his teeth but his voice is still light and happy

"i'm gonna make it into UA so you can watch me kick butt from america! you better cheer me on!"

"im looking forward to it. say hi to your mother from me."

naomasa nods. hes telling the truth. that makes nighteye feel the sickest

"love you izuku"

",,, love you too dad"

izuku hangs up the phone and retches into the bin. nighteye is shaking. all might storms out. naomasa punches the wall

izuku looks up with tears in his eyes

",,, does my mum know?"

nighteye wants to cry

"i dont know kid"

izuku tells katuski that his quirk finally came in! but,,, in the worlds biggest mess of a way

basically hes lying in bed, trying to work out why he can't use it without breaking bones but the people he shares it with can, he bolts upright

"POWER MODULATION OH MY GOD"

he runs out his door all the way to bakugos house and climbs in through his window, grabbing a sleeping bakugo by the shoulders

"KACCHAN ITS POWER MODULATION"

"IZuKU whAt tHE fuCK"

"my quirk!!! i was breaking bones because i wasnt modulating it!!!"

",,,,q QUiRK/???/?"

",,,, oh yeah oops"

mitsuki runs in with a frying pan ready to murder a villain but its just izuku

"carry on"

izuku doesnt tell him its ofa but he explains his quirk has finally showed up, bakugo asks him if hes registered it yet

",,,noooooo"

"wait what? you, breaking the law? mister "i cant kill an ant because all might himself will call me a villain""

izuku, w the most shit-eating grin, explains that you only legaly have to register your quirk when it shows up, or after you are tested when you are five, whichever happens first so, legally, he doesnt need to register because it would be seen as voluntary updating

cut to the enterance exam

aizawa is holding the papers for the kids hes observing right then

"quirkless? that kid doesn't look quirkless"

and yagi sighs

"of course he didnt,,,"

"all might? do you know him?"

"NO NO IDEA WHO MID- THAT YOUNG CHILD IS"

",,,, r i g h t"

“aizawa listen i have never seen young midoriya in my life ever”

basically, izuku is hiding the "transfer" part of his power from most people bc hes stubborn and thinks it could be useful

also,,, in this au shinso makes it in on hero points thanks

bakugo is about to rush the 0 pointer but shinso can see its going to fall on him shinsou yells

"HEY FUCK FACE"

"HA-"

"MOVE MOVE MOVE GET OVER HERE BEFORE YOU FUCKING DIE OH MY GOD MOVE I DONT WANT TO SEE SOMEONE DIE TODAY"

shinsou and bakugou are the type of friends that flat out have no love for each other but would punch anyone who says anything bad abt the other. like shinsou walks into school and bakugou s just

“dammit i thought u fucking died smh”

“i wish i did then i wouldn’t have to look at ur ugly ass”

in this au shinso and izuku bond when they are standing outside they door bc izuku looks like hes gonna fucking cry hes so scared and shinsou is like "wow big mood"

shinso is not shinson in this au! bc izuku is gonna do a soft

basically, quirk test? shinsou is s w e a t i n g bakugo looks a little worried for his new friend but no one would notice if they weren’t izuku

shinsou turns to him like "my quirk is mental im going to fa I L"

izuku grabs his hand and he feels this rush of energy, you can almost see it dancing along his skin. izuku grins

"i think you'll find you do just fine"

(izuku gave him like,, less than a full 1% but hes like doubled in strength and speed and hes??? shook?? bc whats happening)

aizawa is lost bc shinso has a mental quirk he shouldnt be doing this well, so he tries to cancel it

nothing happens and aizawa is so lost??? bc shinsou is kinda reedy and not super fit but hes placing solidly in the middle

and he noticing that shinso’s eyes seem to be glowing and so are they eyes of the kid coming in second and gives a big "hm,mmmm"

anyway, ball pitch, he cancels izukus quirk and turns to look at shinso, his eyes are dim. izuku looks sheepish but also like hes ready to throw down and its an interesting look

aizawa just sighs "you know what? just throw the ball."

izuku g r i n s and yeets it into next year using more of his quirk than he like,, really should have? to prove a point (his finger is bruised, not broken. he used 25%)

anyway aizawa shows the results, shinso is in the middle, izuku second, hagakure is last and sadly shes not getting expelled bc plot reasons – im sorry I have a thing against her shes perfectly valid probably im just still convinced shes the traitor even tho its totally a teacher

he calls izuku out on it but does admit he didnt say you couldnt help eachother, so its kind on him. shinso looks like hes going to pass out with relief

Hagekure is the traitor in this au though, 100%

during the camp she is at the pick up zone, hiding. izuku pulls bakugo out of the way, they all seem safe

but

she pushes izuku in through the portal as it closes

fyi afo takes her quirk and leaves her braindead in the nomu factory bc shes not useful anymore. also because now he needs to have a really awkward conversation with his son he was hoping to avoid

also usj? is really melodramatic

he gives aizawa 4% which is the max nighteye could hold without it hurting

aizawa takes a hit from the nomu and he reaches out his hand

izuku cries as he gives him an extra 4% and aizawa gets free but he can see bruises forming with every step his teacher takes

[fipindustries]

ward beta

im going to do something incredibly gauche and rewrite the plot of ward according to my own personal taste of how i think i would have enjoyed the story better. im not saying this would have been better than what wildbow would have done but it is what i would have liked to see if we MUST use these characters. this is mainly inspired by alexander wale’s ward fanfic

so first and foremost, my main change is that victoria is done with being a cape. done, not going back to it, she is a rouge from now on, a kind of parahuman that i feel has been woefully un-explored thuse far. we had parian and canary and victoria’s uncle and that was it. she doesnt want anything else to do with powers, powers are bullshit, the life of a cape is bullshit and she wants nothing else to do with it ever again.

what’s more, this story would be much more heavly focused on the civilian side of things. we’ve seen the world from the side of the capes in worm, we saw everything there was to see. now we are going to focus on the humans in parahumans, specifically the humans trying to rebuild civilization basically from scratch. negotiating with cheit, the problems that you face having to reclaim nature, having to rebuild a city in the wilderness, having to deal with living in places that were built out of cardboard and a prayer, having to mantain an economy and establish a currency where half the people is inventing ten new currencies and the other half is working exclusively on bartering.

victoria would become part of this small neighborhood which is basically a bunch of apartment buildings that are one storm away from falling to pieces, there is barely any insulation, it leaks constantly, there is intermitent electricity, not to mention human drama, friction, frustration, etc. she gets involved in her small community trying to help here and there with construction, counseling, reparations and neighborhood watch. for the most part she desperatly tries to hide she has superpowers and she is constantly trying to supress them, as anti-parahuman cape sentiment intensifies around her she is worried about what would happen if she reveals her true nature. and this is all further complicated because after what she went through she almost kind of agrees with them.

no cape fights. we are done with that. we had enough. instead the conflicts that arise are like that very first discussion in the very first chapter of this story. just human drama trying to survive after the end of the world, and how sometimes you dont actually need a superhero to solve those problems. small neighbours fighting, discussions over land administration, small city politics, and because victoria cant stop herself from being the hero, even if she refuses to use her powers, she still gets involved in all these things trying to help.

cut down on the interludes and the shifting points of view, they might be the best parts of the story but if you want to make this story about victoria i feel it doesnt help to try and diffuse the attention across an ensemble cast. this is about exploring vicky first and foremost and that is where our main focus should reside.

if you MUST have breakthrough, we would introduce them gradually, one at the time, instead of all in one go. and not all of them would be capes either. kenzie is already a handful by herself. rain is just a powerless fallen boy and he is much further behind in his progress, when we meet him he is still somewhat bigoted and barely just starting to question himself.

sveta is still sveta, she is our thoguhline to the cape scene, she comes visit every now and then to give us updates on what is happening out there. capricorn is a small time, street level superhero helping on the comunity vicky lives, trying to redeem himself. ashley is your lovable oaf small time villain, like she used to be as damsel of distress.

chris, considering how the book did fuck and all with him and mostly side lined him and took a huge dump on him, is gone, might as well.

and here comes my most controversial change, are you guys ready? amy is not presented as a cartoonishly deranged stalker. she is basically what we thought she was at the end of worm. a scared, confused, dangerous but ultimatly well intended girl trying to do her best to redeem herself. victoria is still scared witless of her but it doesnt turn into this corrosive hate. what they went through was a shitty situation but neither is the clear black and white villain like in ward. im sorry but what ward did with amy is just the most boring thing imaginable and i prefer this version, fight me.

the rest of the events in the story happen more or less the same but we are constantly focusing on the civilian side of things and vicky triying her best to plug the holes that show up there. small fires, building evacuation, crowd control, first aid. the only arc that stays more orless the exact same is the one where she pairs up with tattletale to investigate teacher’s psyops.

there would be a chapter dedicated to an incursion on earth bet where vicky decides to help with salvaging technology that cant be acquired on earth gimmel, helping refugees, etc. somehow she rises in the politics of her community and at one point she is sent as an ambassador to earth shin where she deals with amy for the first time.

when the shit hits the fan she goes alongside the other civilians to drop the bombs on the crystal land.

i think focusing on the struggle of powerless humanity to rebuild and the rise of anti parahumans from the human side would play a lot better to the themes of recovery and forgiveness.

so there you go, that is the story i would have liked to see. go hate me if you will.

[shinos-artblog]

Please don’t forget me

“O-Oowada-kun...please, tell me you remember something, anything...?” Kiyotaka’s eyes never shimmered so hard. The little droplets of water building and stacking until eventually they would overflow like a broken dam. Gazing onward it was hard enough to see the state in which his boyfriend already was. Broken bones from head to toe, head wrapped tightly in bandages that still bled every now and then. He wiped the snot leaking from his nose, trying to be professional but at this moment there was no such thing. 

“M’ s’rry Kyoudai...th’ only thing I remember s’ us knowin’ eachother, am I suppose ‘ta know more than that?” Mondo cocked his long brows into a question, he didn’t seem to understand the question Kiyotaka was asking him. The answer he wanted to hear come from his mouth. He had gotten into an accident, a head on collision with a truck that frankly, the perfect blamed himself for. The only reason he was out, why he was drunk trying to drive in rain, was because of him. 

That day they had gotten into a fight, a big one. Words were exchanged, some not very nice and Mondo had left in a fit of rage. Kiyotaka felt awful, he tried to call him back over and over again but he wouldn’t respond and all he could hope for was a call back soon. Maybe when he released all the pent up frustration they could have talked and said ‘I’m sorry’ to eachother but that was not the case. Kiyotaka stayed up all night, worrying as the storm grew rougher that was until he got a knock on the door. Thinking it was the hot headed biker only to reveal it was some police officers to bring him the news. 

He rushed as fast as he could to him, he was destroyed. Body mangled, covered in blood, it made him want to gag and vomit but he held on and stood with Mondo until the bitter end. “Please don’t leave me, please don’t die! Mondo! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Shouting anything he possibly could just in case of the worst, he wanted the carpenter to know he was sorry, that it was his fault, to please not die on him and leave him alone. 

And it was a month later when he came out of the coma. Kiyotaka was the first to be there for his awakening. He seemed fine, he remembered his name, his birthday, brother, past friends, all except. Kiyotaka. Of course he recalled him, knew his name and where they met, how they became friends but after that he says it was all a blur. He doesn’t think there was anything else, not that he can think of and it made the perfects heart shatter into a million pieces. He cried for hours alone, where no one could see until he had the courage to face him again but failed and ended up sobbing anyway. At least not as bad. 

Kiyotaka walked up close, sat down beside his bed and gently slid his fingertips onto the others, scrapping at Mondo’s fingernail with the pads of his index finger and thinned his lips out trying to think of a response. He doesn’t blame anyone but himself, he probably cant remember because he was so angry at him during the time of the accident. Closing his eyes tightly Kiyotaka looked into those bright, lavender eyes. “Don’t worry about it Kyoudai, I promise we’ll get through this. Together!” 

[hellomelusine]

Rooftops and Raindrops

Written for day 4 of @reylo-week-2018. Mythology. Bit of a spin on the usual vampire!Reylo I’ve read, just for fun.

A storm is coming; Rey can feel it prickle against her skin, can scent the ozone from somewhere far off as she passes through the drunken masses spilling from bars. She follows from a distance, always at a distance; doesn’t even need to see him anymore, so familiar she is with the beat of his heart and the scent of his skin.

It’s not like him to be out this late, the early hours of weekend mornings typically found him asleep - when he wasn’t alternating between binge watching shows and porn. She had been perched on the roof across from his building when he jogged down the stairs and took off at a brisk pace. Rey followed from above.

He turns into an alley and Rey walks past, always wary to not startle him. He is still walking. Rey sends out a strong wave of compulsion to the drunks around her before she scales the wall of the nearest building. They all ignore her, and the compulsion fades once she finds her footing on high.

She find him again easily enough, darting through more alleys and doubling back and Rey finds herself scanning his path for someone else who might be following him. There is no one.

The building he comes to is nondescript, but the paint is peeling from it’s facade and it smells off. Rey cannot follow, so she settles in to wait for him to come back out. Whatever he does in there doesn’t take long, and then he’s tracing the route back home.

Rey prides herself of being careful, of not being caught, after all, she’s existed for nearly 300 years and the only time she got caught, it landed her in this mess. So when her foot catches on a loose roof tile she’s surprised, she’s doubly surprised when she makes a noise to accompany her fumbling. He stops walking to turn towards the sound - towards her - and for the first time since she first set her eyes on him two years ago he sees her.

“What are you doing up there?” A funny thing to ask in the middle of a moonless night, Rey thinks, but then again, Kylo Ren has always been a little bit funny. She flounders for an answer that isn’t immediately incriminating. “You’re following me.”

The fact that it isn’t a question at all makes Rey smile before dropping down in front of him. He looks shocked and she tells him so.

“How did you do that?”

“Anyone can jump.” Rey cants her head to the side, eyes drifting over his neck. She can hear how quickly his heart is beating now, can smell the curiosity overlaid with fear leaking from him. “You don’t need to be afraid.” She soothes, eager to move towards him, to touch, to taste, to take. She stands still, looking far more relaxed than she feels.

“I’m not.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest and oh, he’s a delight.

“A pretty lie, from such a pretty mouth,” he gapes at her and Rey grins again, a flash of pointed teeth catching on her lower lip before he stumbles backwards away from her. “You don’t need to be afraid,” she repeats, “I promise I won’t bite you.”

“This isn’t real,” he mumbles, running hands through his hair trying to still their shaking, “this can’t be real, this is a dream, it can’t be you.”

Rey watches him in wide eyed wonder as he paces the narrow width of the alley. She knows she should try to help him. Her body aches to soothe him in some way, but she’s sworn off using her thrall after experiencing disastrous results with it, and that’s not something she would ever try to use on him anyway. She takes a deep, unneeded breath, and that’s when she smells it. Death and decay and the one scent that has haunted her, lingering somewhere just out of reach at all times, but always there. Snoke.

“Hey.” Rey interrupts his increasingly panicked mumblings. “I’m Rey.”

He halts mid-step to look at her again. “I beg your pardon?”

“My name,” she takes a small step towards him, a test, he doesn’t flinch and she smiles again, “is Rey.”

She doesn’t expect his short bark of a laugh, but his amusement rolls over her and she revels in it. “It’s a bit ironic, isn’t it?”

Rey lifts a shoulder. “I wasn’t born like this you know.”

“So you admit it.”

“Admit what?” Rey teases, walking around him now to leave as the first raindrops begin to fall.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“It’s raining.”

“You really aren’t going to eat me?”

Rey rolls her eyes, “Would you like me to? I’d rather not.”

“Why, not good enough for you?” he taunts. Rey turns and is on him before he can blink again, pressing him up against the rough brick of the building. “Shit!” he winces away from her as she leans against him. “I was kidding, I’m sorry.”

She shifts so she’s standing on her tiptoes to better align herself with him and runs her nose along his neck before catching his earlobe with her mouth. “It’s the opposite,” She whispers, and feels his body shudder against hers, “you’re too good, something that’s better savored.” She pulls away from him to find his eyes wide, initially she thinks it’s shock, but then she scents the arousal on him. “Come, you’re going to get all wet.” She tugs him forward and he obeys immediately, it’s so quick Rey worries that she’s accidentally activated her thrall, but no, this is something else.

“I’m Kylo,” he finally manages after a few moments, “where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe.” Rey growls, stalking forward through the rain. Snoke’s scent had been faint, but that building Kylo had been in had to be his. She didn’t even know he was back, and it spelled bad news for everyone, especially her, and Kylo moreso. She hoped that bastard didn’t scent her on Kylo, if he had, she knew he was just biding his time.

“Why should I even trust you to take me anywhere safe?” Kylo asked, taking steps away from her and towards his apartment when they made it out of the alley.

“You don’t have to,” Rey said with a shrug, “but that man you’re working for is bad news.”

“What are you talking - how long have you been following me?”

“Long enough. His name is Snoke, right?” Rey doesn’t even have to look at him to know she’s right, can feel him grow angry. “He’s not who you think, or what you think.” She turns now, eyes as gentle as they can be with a circle of crimson red around the iris, “He’s what made me,” he frowns at this but she keeps talking, “and he’s going to do the same to you.”

“You don’t know that, I’ve barely met him, I just run odd jobs.”

“Don’t you feel it though?” Rey asks, “I always did, that I was meant to be more somehow.”

“That’s a pretty standard human feeling.”

Rey shakes her head before sighing. “Come on, you’re going to get sick or something if you stay out in this.” She sees him shiver and she starts walking, “It’s easy to forget sometimes, what things feel like.”

“You can’t feel the rain?”

“I’m not sure if you’re asking obtuse questions because that’s just the way you are, or if you’re still in shock and denial about talking to a vampire.” Kylo grunts at this and Rey laughs. “Of course I can feel the rain, it just doesn’t feel like anything, other than wet. There’s not temperature to it, it just exists.”

“Where are you from? Originally.”

“London.”

“So not a fake accent, then. How old are you?”

“I was twenty-six when I was turned, and that was 253 years ago.”

“Holy shit.” It’s a sharp inhalation of words and Rey rolls her eyes. “How many people have you killed?”

“Ugh, what a rude way to put it. More than one, enough to make you uncomfortable, but I don’t kill everyone I drink from.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s messy, because dead bodies draw questions, because it’s not super sustainable if I want to stay in one place for more than a handful of days, I have more reasons, you want those?”

“No.” He grunts and Rey eyes him long enough to watch him shove his hands in his pockets and almost sulk for the rest of the walk. They arrive at her building and she unlocks the door. “You live in a house?” he asks, hesitantly stepping inside.

“Figure that one all out on your own, did you?” She flips on the lights and tosses her keys into a small dish waiting by the door. “Take off your shoes, I’ll go get you a towel.”

“This all looks so normal.”

“We don’t all live in crypts, just the deranged ones.”

When she comes back, he’s in the living room, looking at the art on her walls and she hands over a towel. Their hands touch, just a brush of contact and he stills, eyes going wide. Rey knows then, that he’s the one, she knew it when she first saw him, but now there’s no doubt in her mind, and she sees it reflected in his gaze, and it will bring ruin to Snoke, once and for all.

Kylos fingers catch hers again as he drops the towel to the ground. “What is this?” he asks, looking scared, and for the first time tonight, just a little bit hopeful.

“Don’t be afraid, I feel it too.”

[unsettlingshortstories]

Sunbleached

Nathan Ballingrud (2011)

“We’re God’s beautiful creatures,” the vampire said, something like joy leaking into its voice for the first time since it had crawled under this house four days ago. “We’re the pinnacle of his art. If you believe in that kind of thing, anyway. That’s why the night is our time. He hangs jewels in the sky for us. People, they think we’re at some kinda disadvantage because we can’t go out in the sunlight. But who needs it. The day is small and cramped. You got your one lousy star.”

“You believe in God?” Joshua asked. The crawlspace beneath his house was close and hot; his body was coated in a dense sheen of sweat. A cockroach crawled over his fingers and he jerked his hand away. Late summer pressed onto this small Mississippi coastal town like the heel of a boot. The heat was an act of violence.

“I was raised Baptist. My thoughts on the matter are complicated.”

The crawlspace was contained partially by sheets of aluminum siding and partially by decaying wooden latticework. It was by this latter that Joshua crouched, hiding in the hot spears of sunlight which intruded into the shadows and made a protective cage around him.

“That’s why it’s so easy for us to seduce. God loves us, so the world does too. Seduction is your weapon, kid. You’re what—fifteen? You think seduction is pumping like a jackrabbit in your momma’s car. You don’t know anything. But you will soon enough.”

The vampire moved in the shadows, and abruptly the stink of burnt flesh and spoiled meat greased the air. It had opened a wound in itself, moving. Joshua knew that it tried to stay still as much as it could, to facilitate the healing, but the slowly shifting angles of the sunbeams made that impossible. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out a shape, but it was useless. He could sense it back there, though—a dark, fluttering presence. Something made of wings.

“Invite me in,” it said.

“Later,” Joshua said. “Not yet. After you finish changing me.”

The vampire coughed; it sounded like a snapping bone. Something wet hit the ground. “Well come here then, boy.” It moved again, this time closer to the amber light. Its face emerged from the shadows like something rising from deep water. It hunched on its hands and knees, swinging its head like a dog trying to catch a scent. Its face had been burnt off. Thin, parchment-strips of skin hung from blackened sinew and muscle. Its eyes were dark, hollow caves. Even in this wretched state, though, it seemed weirdly graceful. A dancer pretending to be a spider.

For the second time, Joshua laid himself on the soft earth, a-crawl with ants and cockroaches, centipedes and earthworms, positioning his upper body beyond the reach of the streaming sunlight. The light’s color was deepening, its angles rising until they were almost parallel to the ground. Evening was settling over the earth.

The vampire pressed the long fingers of one charred hand onto his chest, as delicately as a lover. Heat flushed Joshua’s body. Every nerve ending was a trembling candle flame. The vampire touched its lips to his throat; its tongue sought the jugular, the heavy river inside. It slid its teeth into his skin.

A sharp, lovely pain.

Joshua stared at the underside of his home: the rusted pipes, the duct tape, the yellow sheets of insulation. It looked so different from beneath. So ugly. He heard footsteps overhead as somebody he loved moved around inside it, attending to mysterious offices.

• • • •

Four days ago: he’d stood on the front porch of his home in the deep blue hollow of early morning, watching the waters of the Gulf roll onto the beach. It was his favorite time of the day: that sweet, lonesome hinge between darkness and daylight, when he could pretend he was alone in the world and free to take it on his own terms. In a few moments he would go inside and wake his five-year-old brother Michael, make him breakfast, and get them both ready for school, while their mother still slept in after her night shift at Red Lobster.

But this time belonged to him.

The vampire came from the direction of town, trailing black smoke and running hard across the no man’s land between his own house and the nearest standing building. There’d been a neighborhood there once, but the hurricane wiped it away a few years ago. What remained had looked like a mouthful of shattered teeth, until the state government came through and razed everything to the ground. Their own house had been badly damaged—the storm had scalped it of its top floor, depositing it somewhere out in the Gulf—but the rest had stood its ground, though it canted steeply to one side now, and on windy days you could feel it coming through the walls.

It was over that empty expanse the vampire fled, first billowing smoke like a diesel engine and then erupting into flame as the sun cracked the horizon.

The vampire ran directly for his house and launched itself at the opening to the crawlspace under the porch steps. Oily smoke eeled up through the wooden planks and dissipated into the lightening sky.

Joshua had remained frozen in place for the whole event, save the rising clamor in his heart.

• • • •

Their mother would be late getting home from work—and even later if she went out with that jackass Tyler again—so Joshua fed his little brother and directed him to his bedroom. They passed the stairwell on their way, which was capped now by sheets of plywood hammered over the place where it used to open onto the second floor.

“You want me to read you a story?” he asked, reaching for the copy of The Wind in the Willows by the bedside. Michael didn’t really understand the story, but he liked it when Joshua did the voices.

“No,” he said, leaping into his bed and pulling the covers over himself.

“No story? Are you sure?”

“I just wanna go to sleep tonight.”

“Okay,” Joshua said. He felt strangely bereft. He reached down and turned on Michael’s nightlight, then switched off the lamp.

“Will you cuddle with me, Josh?” he said.

“I won’t ‘cuddle’ with you, but I’ll lay down with you for a little bit.”

“Okay.”

Cuddle was a word their dad used before he moved away, and it embarrassed him that Michael held onto it. He eased back on top of the covers and let Michael rest his head in the crook of his arm.

“Are you scared of anything, Josh?”

“What, like monsters?”

“I don’t know, I guess.”

“No, I’m not scared of monsters. I’m not scared of anything.”

Michael thought for a minute, then said, “I’m scared of storms.”

“That’s silly. It’s just a bunch of wind and rain.”

“ . . . I know.”

Michael drifted into silence. Joshua felt vaguely guilty about shutting him down like that, but he really didn’t have it in him to have the storm talk again. That was something Michael was going to have to get over on his own, since logic didn’t seem to have any effect on his thinking.

As he monitored his brother’s breathing, waiting for him to fall asleep, he found himself wondering about how he would feel toward his family once the transformation was complete. He was worried that he would lose all feeling for them. Or, worse, that he’d think of them as prey. He didn’t think that would happen; everything he’d ever read about vampires seemed to indicate that they kept all their memories and emotions from life. But the thought troubled him nonetheless.

That was why he wouldn’t let the vampire into his house until he became one, too; he wanted to be sure it went after the right person. It couldn’t have his family.

The question of love was tricky, anyway. He felt protective of his brother and his mom, but he had a hard time aligning that feeling with a word like love. Maybe it was the same thing; he honestly didn’t know. He tried to imagine how he’d feel if they were gone, and he didn’t come up with much.

That thought troubled him even more.

Maybe he would think of Michael and his mother as pets. The notion brightened his mood.

People loved their pets.

• • • •

Michael pretended to be asleep until Joshua left the room. He loved his older brother in the strong, uncomplicated way children loved anything; but recently he’d had become an expert in negotiating the emotional weather in his home, and Joshua’s moods had become more turbulent than ever. He got mad at strange things, like when Michael wanted to hold hands, or when Mom brought Tyler home. Michael thought Tyler was weird because he wouldn’t talk to them, but he didn’t understand why Joshua got so mad about it.

He listened as his brother’s footsteps receded down the hallway. He waited a few more minutes just to be sure. Then he slid down and scooted under the bed on his stomach, pressing his ear to the floor. The house swayed and creaked around him, filling the night with bizarre noises. He hated living here since the storm happened. He felt like he was living in the stomach of a monster.

After a few minutes of careful listening, he heard the voice.

• • • •

Joshua opened his window and waited. He didn’t even try to sleep anymore, even though he was constantly tired. The night was clear and cool, with a soft breeze coming in from the sea. The palm trees across the street rustled quietly to themselves, shaggy-haired giants sharing secrets.

After about half an hour, the vampire crawled from an opening near the back of the house, emerging just a few feet from his window. Joshua’s heart started to gallop. He felt the familiar, instinctive fear: the reaction of the herd animal to the lion.

The vampire stood upright, facing the sea. Most of its flesh had burnt away; the white round curve of its skull reflected moonlight. Its clothes were dark rags in the wind.

A car pulled into the driveway around front, its engine idling for a few moments before chuckling to a halt. Mom was home.

The vampire’s body seemed to coil, every muscle drawing taut at once. It lifted its nose, making tiny jerking motions, looking for the scent.

He heard his mother’s laughter, and a man’s voice. Tyler was with her.

The vampire took a step toward the front of the house, its joints too loose, as if they were hinged with liquid instead of bone and ligament. Even in its broken, half-dead state, it moved quickly and fluidly. He thought again of a dancer. He imagined how it would look in full health, letting the night fill its body like a kite. Moving through the air like an eel through water.

“Take him,” Joshua whispered.

The vampire turned its eyeless face head toward him.

Joshua was smiling. “Take him,” he said again.

“You know I can’t,” it said, rage riding high in its voice. “Why the hell don’t you let me in!”

“That’s not the deal,” he said. “Afterwards. Then you can come in. And you can have Tyler.”

He heard the front door open, and the voices moved inside. Mom and Tyler were in the living room, giggling and whispering. Half drunk already.

“He’s all I’ll need,” the vampire said. “Big country boy like that. Do me right up.”

Someone knocked on his bedroom door. His mother’s voice came through. “Josh? Are you on the phone in there? You’re supposed to be asleep!”

“Sorry Mom,” he said over his shoulder.

He heard Tyler’s muffled voice, and his mother started laughing. “Shhh!”

It made Joshua’s stomach turn. When he looked back outside, the vampire had already slid back under the house.

He sighed and leaned his head out, feeling the cool wind on his face. The night was vast above him. He imagined rising into it, through clouds piled like snowdrifts and into a wash of ice crystal stars, waiting for its boundary but not finding one. Just rising higher and higher into the dark and the cold.

• • • •

The school day passed in a long, punishing haze. His ability to concentrate was fading steadily. His body felt like it was made of lead. He’d never been so exhausted in his life, but every time he closed his eyes he was overcome with a manic energy, making him fidget in his chair. It took the whole force of his will not to get up and start pacing the classroom.

A fever simmered in his brain. He touched the back of his hand to his forehead and was astonished by the heat. Sounds splintered in his ear, and the light coming through the windows was sharp-edged. His gaze roved over the classroom, over his classmates hunched over their desks or whispering carelessly in the back rows or staring like farm animals into the empty air. He’d never been one of them, and that was okay. It was just how things were. He used to feel smaller than them, less significant, as if he’d been born without some essential gene to make him acceptable to other people.

But now he assessed them anew. They seemed different, suddenly. They looked like victims. Like little pink pigs, waiting for someone to slash their throats and fulfill their potential. He imagined the room bathed in blood, himself striding through it, a raven amongst the carcasses. Strutting like any carrion king.

• • • •

He was halfway into the crawlspace when nausea overwhelmed him and he dry heaved into the dirt, the muscles in his sides seizing in pain. He curled into a fetal position and pressed his face into the cool earth until it subsided, leaving him gasping in exhaustion. His throat was swollen and dry.

“I can’t sleep,” the vampire said from the shadows.

Joshua blinked and lifted his gaze, still not raising his head from the ground. He didn’t think he could summon the strength for it, even if he’d wanted to.

The vampire was somewhere in the far corner beneath the house, somewhere behind the bars of sunlight slanting through the latticework. “The light moves around too much down here,” it said, apparently oblivious to Joshua’s pain. “I can’t rest. I need to rest.”

Joshua was silent. He didn’t know what he was expected to say.

“Invite me in,” it said. “I can make it dark inside.”

“What’s happening to me?” Joshua asked. He had to force the air out of his lungs to speak. He could barely hear himself.

“You’re changing. You’re almost there.”

“I feel like I’m dying.”

“Heh, that’s funny.”

Joshua turned his face into the soil. He felt a small tickling movement crawling up his pant leg.

“I remember when I died. I was terrified. It’s okay to be scared, Joshua.”

That seemed like a funny thing to say. He blinked, staring into the place where the voice was coming from.

“I was in this barn. I was a hand on this farm that grew sugar cane. Me and a few others slept out there in the loft. One day this young fella turned up missing. We didn’t think too much about it. Good natured boy, worked hard, but he was kinda touched in the head, and we figured it was always a matter of time before he went and got himself into some trouble. We thought we’d wait for the weekend and then go off and look for him.

“But he came back before the weekend. Sailed in through the second floor window of the barn one night. I about pissed myself. Seemed like he walked in on a cloud. Before we could think of anything to say he laid into us. Butchered most of the boys like hogs. Three of us he left though. Maybe ‘cause we were nicer to him, I don’t know. He decided to make us like him. Who knows why. But see, he was too stupid to tell us what was going on. Didn’t know himself, I guess. But he just kept us up there night after night, feeding on us a little bit at a time. Our dead friends around us the whole time, growing flies.”

“Why didn’t you run when the sun came up?” Joshua had forgotten his pain. He sat up, edging closer to the ribbons of light, his head hunched below the underside of the house.

“Son of a bitch spiked our legs to the floor of the loft. Wrapped barbed wire around our arms. He was determined, I’ll give him that. And no one came from the house. Didn’t take a genius to figure out why.” The vampire paused, seemingly lost in the memory. “Well anyway, before too long we got up and started our new lives. He went off god knows where. So did the other two. Never seen them since.”

Joshua took it all in, feeling the shakes come upon him again. “I’m worried about my family,” he said. “I’m worried they won’t understand.”

“You won’t feel so sentimental, afterwards.”

This was too much to process. He decided he needed to sleep for a while. Let the fever abate, then approach it all with a fresh mind. “I’m gonna lay down,” he said, turning back toward the opening. The light there was like a boiling cauldron, but the thought of lying in his own bed was enough to push through.

“Wait!” the vampire said. “I need to feed first.”

Joshua decided to ignore it. He was already crawling out, and he didn’t have the energy to turn around.

“BOY!”

He froze, and looked behind him. The vampire lunged forward, and its head passed into a sunbeam. The flesh hissed, emitting a thin coil of smoke. A candle flame flared around it, and the stench of ruined flesh rolled over him in a wave, as though a bag of rancid meat had been torn open.

The vampire pulled back, the blind sockets of his eyes seeming to float in the dim white bone. “Don’t play with me, boy.”

“I’m not,” Joshua said. “I’ll be back later.” And he crawled out into the jagged sunlight.

• • • •

He awoke to find his mother hovering over him. She was wearing her white Red Lobster shirt, with the nametag and the ridiculous tie. She had one hand on his forehead, simultaneously taking his temperature and pushing the hair out of his face.

“Hey honey,” she said.

“Mom?” He pulled his head away from her and passed a hand over his face. He was on the couch in the living room. Late afternoon light streamed in through the window. No more than an hour could have elapsed. “What are you doing home?”

“Mikey called me. He said you passed out.”

He noticed his brother sitting on the easy chair on the other side of the room. Michael regarded him solemnly, his little hands folded in his lap like he was in church.

“You’re white as a sheet,” his mother said. “How long have you been feeling bad?”

“I don’t know. Just today I guess.”

“I think we should get you to a hospital.”

“No!” He made an effort to sit up. “No, I’m fine. I just need to rest for a while.”

She straightened, and he could see her wrestling with the idea. He knew she didn’t want to go to the hospital any more than he did. They didn’t have any insurance, and here she was missing a shift at work besides.

“Really, I’m okay. Besides, we’d have to wait forever, and isn’t Tyler coming over tonight?”

His mother tensed. She looked at him searchingly, like she was trying the fathom his motive. She said, “Joshua, you’re more important to me than Tyler is. You do understand that, don’t you?”

He looked away. He felt his face flush, and he didn’t want her to see it. “I know,” he said.

“I know you don’t like him.”

“It’s not that,” he said, but of course it was that. Tyler had to be here so he could feed him to the vampire. He had a feeling that tonight was going to be the night. He didn’t know how he could go on much more, as weak as he was.

Michael piped up, his voice cautious yet hopeful: “It doesn’t matter anyway, ’cause Daddy’s coming back.”

His mother sighed and turned to look at him. Joshua could see all the years gathered in her face, and he felt a sudden and unexpected sympathy for her. “No, Mikey. He’s not.”

“Yes he is, Mom, he told me. He asked if it was okay.”

Her voice hardened, although she was obviously trying to hide it. “Has he been talking to you on the phone?” She looked to Joshua for confirmation.

“Not me,” Joshua said. It occurred to him that Dad may have been calling while he was under the house, talking to the vampire. He felt at once both guilty that he’d left his brother to deal with that alone, and outraged that he’d missed out on the calls.

“You tell him next time he calls that he can talk to me about that,” she said, not even bothering to hide her anger now. “In fact, don’t even talk to him. Hang up on him if he calls again. I’m going to get his number blocked, that son of a bitch.”

Tears piled in Michael’s eyes and he lowered his face. His body trembled as he tried to keep it all inside. A wild anger coursed through Joshua’s body, animating him despite the fever.

“Shut up!” he shouted. “Shut up about Dad! You think Tyler is better? He can’t even look at us! He’s a fucking retard!”

His mother looked at him in pained astonishment for a long moment. Then she put her hand over her mouth and stifled a sob. Aghast, Michael launched himself at her, a terrified little missile. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her chest. “It’s okay, Mom, it’s okay!”

Joshua unfolded himself from the couch and walked down the hall to his room. His face was alight with shame and rage. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to feel. He closed the door behind him, muffling the sounds of the others comforting each other. He threw himself onto his bed, pulling the pillow over his face. The only things he could hear now were the wooden groaning of the house as it shifted on its foundations, and the diminished sound of the blood pumping in his own head.

• • • •

Their father left right after the hurricane. He used to work on the oil rigs. He’d get on a helicopter and disappear for a few weeks, and money would show up in the bank account. Then he’d come home for a week, and they’d all have fun together. He’d fight with their mother sometimes, but he always went back out to sea before things had a chance to get bad.

After the hurricane, all that work dried up. The rigs were compromised and the Gulf Coast oil industry knocked back on its heels. Dad was stranded in the house. Suddenly there was no work to stop the fighting. He moved to California shortly thereafter, saying he’d send for them when he found another job. A week later their mother told them the truth.

Joshua still remembered the night of the storm. The four of them rode it out together in the house. It sounded like Hell itself had come unchained and was stalking the world right outside their window. But he felt safe inside. Even when the upper floor ripped away in a scream of metal and plaster and wood, revealing a black, twisting sky, he never felt like he was in any real danger. The unremarkable sky he’d always known had changed into something three dimensional and alive.

It was like watching the world break open, exposing its secret heart.

His father was crouched beside him. They stared at it together in amazement, grinning like a pair of blissed-out lunatics.

• • • •

Joshua heard a gentle rapping on his door.

“I’m going to the store,” his mother said. “I’m gonna get something for your fever. Is there anything you want for dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.”

He waited for her car to pull out of the driveway before he swung his legs out of bed and tried to stand. He could do it as long as he kept one hand on the wall. He couldn’t believe how tired he was. His whole body felt cold, and he couldn’t feel his fingers. It was coming tonight. The certainty of it inspired no excitement, no joy, no fear. His body was too numb to feel anything. He just wanted it to happen so he could get past this miserable stage.

He shuffled out of his room and down the hall. The vampire needed to feed on him once more, and he wanted to get down there before his mother got back.

As he passed by his brother’s door, though, he stopped short. Somebody was whispering on the other side.

He opened the door to find his little brother lying prone on the floor, half under the bed. Late afternoon shadows gathered in the corners. His face was a small moon in the dim light, one ear pressed to the hardwood. He was whispering urgently.

“Michael?”

His brother’s body jerked in alarm, and he sat up quickly, staring guiltily back. Joshua flipped the light switch on.

“What are you doing?” Something cold was growing inside him.

Michael shrugged.

“Tell me!”

“Talking to Daddy.”

“No.”

“He’s living under the house. He wants us to let him back in. I was afraid to because Mom might get mad at me.”

“ . . . oh, Mikey.” His voice quavered. “That’s not Dad. That’s not Dad.”

He found himself moving down the hall again, quickly now, fired with renewed energy. He felt like a passenger in his body: he experienced a mild curiosity as he saw himself rummaging through the kitchen drawer until he found the claw hammer his mother kept there; a sense of fearful anticipation as he pushed the front door open and stumbled down the porch steps in the failing light, not even pausing to gather his strength before he hooked the claw into the nearest latticework and wrenched it away from the wall in a long segment.

“We had a deal!” he screamed, getting to work on another segment. “You son of a bitch! We had a deal!” He worked fast, alternately smashing wooden latticework to pieces and prying aluminum panels free from the house. “You lied to me! You lied!” Nails squealed as they were wrenched from their moorings. The sun was too low for the light to intrude beneath the house now, but tomorrow the vampire would find the crawlspace uninhabitable.

He saw the vampire, once, just beneath the lip of the house. It said nothing, but its face tracked him as he worked.

The sun was sliding down the sky, leaking its light into the ground and into the sea. Darkness swarmed from the east, spreading stars in its wake.

Joshua hurried inside, dropping the hammer on the floor and collapsing onto the couch, utterly spent. A feeling of profound loss hovered somewhere on the edge of his awareness. He had turned his back on something, on some grand possibility. He knew the pain would come later.

• • • •

Soon his mother returned, and he took some of the medicine she’d bought for him, though he didn’t expect it to do any good. He made a cursory attempt to eat some of the pizza she’d brought too, but his appetite was gone. She sat beside him on the couch and brushed the hair away from his forehead. They watched some TV, and Joshua slipped in and out of sleep. At one point he stared through the window over the couch. The moon traced a glittering arc through the sky. Constellations rotated above him and the planets rolled through the heavens. He felt a yearning that nearly pulled him out of his body.

He could see for billions of miles.

• • • •

At some point his mother roused him from the couch and guided him to his room. He cast a glance into Michael’s room when he passed it, and saw his brother fast asleep.

“You know I love you, Josh,” his mother said at his door.

He nodded. “I know Mom. I love you too.”

His body was in agony. He was pretty sure he was going to die, but he was too tired to care.

• • • •

A scream woke him. The heavy sound of running footsteps, followed by a crash.

Then silence.

Joshua tried to rouse himself. He felt like he’d lost control of his body. His eyelids fluttered open. He saw his brother standing in the doorway, tears streaming down his face.

“Oh no, Josh, oh no, oh no . . .”

He lost consciousness.

• • • •

The next morning he was able to move again. The fever had broken sometime during the night; his sheets were soaked with sweat.

He found his mother on the kitchen table. She had kicked some plates and silverware onto the floor in what had apparently been a brief struggle. Her head was hanging backward off the edge of the table, and she had been sloppily drained. Blood splashed the floor beneath her. Her eyes were open and glassy.

His brother was suspended upside down in the living room, his feet tied with a belt to the ceiling fan, which had come partially free from its anchor. He’d been drained too. He was still wearing his pajamas. On the floor a few feet away from him, where it had fluttered to rest, was a welcome home card he had made for their father.

The plywood covering the open stairwell had been wrenched free. The vampire stood on the top stair, looking into deep blue sky of early morning. Joshua stopped at the bottom stair, gazing up at it. Its burnt skin was covered in a clear coating of pus and lymphatic fluid, as its body started to heal. White masses filled its eye sockets like spiders’ eggs. Tufts of black hair stubbled its peeled head.

“I waited for you,” the vampire said.

Joshua’s lower lip trembled. He tried to say something but he couldn’t get his voice to work.

The vampire extended a hand. “Come up here. The sun’s almost up.”

Almost against his will, he ascended the stairs into the open air. The vampire wrapped its fingers around the back of his head and drew him close. Its lips grazed his neck. It touched its tongue to his skin.

“Thank you for your family,” it said.

“ . . . no . . .”

It sank its teeth into Joshua’s neck and drew from him one more time. A gorgeous heat seeped through his body, and he found himself being lowered gently to the top of the stair.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” the vampire said.

His head rolled to one side; he looked over the area where the second story used to be. There was his old room. There was Michael’s. And that’s where his parents slept. Now it was all just open air.

“This is my house now,” the vampire said, standing over him and surveying the land around them. “At least for a few more days.” It looked down at Joshua with its pale new eyes. “I’d appreciate it if you stayed out.”

The vampire descended the stairs.

A few minutes later, the sun came up, first as a pink stain, then as gash of light on the edge of the world. Joshua felt the heat rising in him again: a fierce, purging radiance starting from his belly and working rapidly outward. He smelled himself cooking, watched the smoke begin to pour out of him, crawling skyward.

And then the day swung its heavy lid over the sky. The ground baked hard as an anvil in the heat, and the sun hammered the color out of everything.

[the-pan-ace-writings]

Fallout February ~ Aftermath

  A/N this is a continuation of Delirium a little bit into the future, so this does hold a similar warning to Delirium but its much less actual violence 

Fallout February    Main Masterlist 

    It took months for Riona to be able to sleep through the nights again, and almost every waking moment she could spend alone and working out she did. She didn't want to look at anyone disgusted and ashamed that she had been captured and reduced down to a pathetic weeping mess. 

   She only communicated with Codsworth and the general on occasion outside of the security of the darkness. She was fortunate that Preston had enough tact to not bring up her sleepless nights and his comforts. He was worried about her, she might have been able to survive in the world before but he's seen her push herself too far too many times. She had a bad habit of discovering things that were dangerous to her. He was convinced that her more than normal weakness to radiation was due to her being pre war, which they had discovered after a feral encounter but was confirmed the first time she was caught in a rad storm. 

    She was high strung all of the time, she couldn't stand cramped spaces anymore and would anxiously rub at her wrist when she was stressed. She refused to wear anything less than a full shirt and would refuse any assistance in healing up her back. And the sound of heavy boots still unsettled her.

    Preston had made it a habit to stop by her home every evening at the end of his patrol to check on her, and oftentimes would have to convince her to go to bed or at least just sit and relax. He had to talk her down from going off back to the Corvega plant multiple times, they needed her to get better and heal fully before he even dared allowing her out of Sanctuary and while she resented it she could understand it. 

    Preston was finishing up his patrol around the settlement, shift change coming up allowing him to go check in on Riona. When he got to her door he knocked twice and walked in, noticing a distinct lack of light. 

    “Mum, you must come out!” Codsworth was half shouting through the bathroom door clearly fumbling with the lock. He made a sound of frustration and knocked on the door again half bumping into it. 

   “Codsworth what going on?” Preston had set his boots down near the entrance to the hall and put his hat on the shelves there. Codsworth turned around in surprise throwing his limbs in the air in exasperation

    “She's locked herself in the restroom! I don't know what happened, she worked herself into a tisy and now wont come out.” he sounded panicked, “I cant open the door with my hands, either.” 

   He frowned and walked over to Codsworth and the door. 

   “I'll deal with this, why don't you step out for a little bit?” Codsworth hovered hesitantly his eyes bobbing anxiously between the door and Preston.

    “Please help her,” he sounded defeated and glided away. Bumping into the walls on his way out, Preston only moved to knock on the door after he heard the front door shut with a thump. 

   “Riona?” He pressed his ear against the door trying to hear for her. He could hear the sound of running water and sniffling now that Codsworth wasn't blundering at the door. “Riona? Are you okay?” He knew for a fact that she wasn't, she hasn't been since they rescued her. “You know I'm going to have to come in if you don't say anything.”  He waited, waiting for any sound of movement to indicate that she was going to unlock the door and just let him in, instead he heard the sniffling go silent. 

   He crouched down to look at the handle of the door, and took out a lock pick set similar to the ones the Riona used. He had been okay unlocking doors before he met her but over time she's shared her knowledge of lock picking with him, and thanks to that he got the door open in record time. He was careful opening the door, and specifically moving it slowly making sure he was in sight right away. 

    Riona was tucked into the corner between the sink and the wall, her head was pressed to her knees and her arms came up to cover her ears while she covered the back of her neck with her hands buried into her hair. It was a similar pose to what he had found her in when they found her. She was in sleeping shorts and surprisingly a tank top, her arms were bloody leaking from what looked like scratches. 

   The shower was on filling a few basins instead of being wasted down the drain. The room was lit with a few piles of melted candles that were coming close to being completely burnt out. Preston leaned over to turn off the water  and with the silencing of the shower he could hear her gasping like she was trying to control her breathing. He looked her over again, his forehead creasing with worry as he pulled out a med kit from the cupboards. 

   He sat down adjacent to her and waited. He's learned that it was best to let her uncurl from things like this, otherwise it was likely to send her mentally back to the janitors closet she had been locked in for so long. 

   When he heard her moving he made it a point to not look over at her and instead waited for her to respond. She slowly raised her head slightly uncurling herself and stared at Preston.  He was always calm no matter what was happening and she envied that, she remembered that she used to be like that. Had a grip on everything and could manage herself and the darkness but instead she sat on the floor of her restroom, arms torn apart from her own hand and in a half panic set off from staring at her scars from the room. 

   She sat up further her hair falling forwards messy from her handling and some sections slightly stained with the blood that smattered her hand. She had moved forwards unwedging herself from the sink, grunting quietly as knobs and other stuck out parts were dislodged from her and planted herself next to Preston. She reached out to grab his hand before pulling it back staring at the blood that was speckled there, and she inspected her arms that had become a blotted bloody mess, she moved away. 

   He started opening the med kit pulling out cleaning alcohol, cloth and bandages before he looked back over at her. 

   “What happened Riona?” His voice was compassionate and quiet, he put his hand out waiting for her to hand him hers. She looked away from him and found her reflection in one of the wall mirrors. She looked tired, and the lighting in the room only deepened her eye bags, her face was creased with stress lines and she watched as her face crumpled tears coming to her eyes before she turned away. She felt Preston’s had wrapped around hers and pulled into his lap, she could smell the bottle of antiseptic and she closed her eyes as preston cleaned up her hand moving to clean her arms. 

   He hadn’t questioned her further and just worked on cleaning her up and bandaging her. It had not taken long but she was starting to sag with exhaustion, he had adjusted them so that he was settled behind her and she leaned back on his chest while he cleaned up and bandaged her other arm. 

   “Every time I see them it sends me back.” She whispered as he had finished up, “it's just so much sometimes. I don't know.” she shook her head and had brought her knees back up to her chest. 

   “You don't need to know anything right now Riona, you'll get there.” She could feel his voice rumbling through his chest and she pressed further into him taking in the comfort. 

   “I'm sorry.” She turned further into him and she felt his arms wrap around her, they were swaying again. It was pulling her into sleep again and when he noticed he stood them up and collected her in his arms bringing her to her bed. 

    He had her all settled on top of the bed and a went over to her closet and pulled out one of the thicker long sleeve tops, helping her into it before tucking her into the bed. He was starting to step out of the room for the night when he felt her hands grip his fingers. “Can you stay?” her voice was quiet and sleep laced but her eyes were pleading and he just smiled softly down at her and nodded. She made an affirmative sound before rolling onto her stomach wrapping her arms around the pillow beneath her. 

    She felt the bed dip beneath his weight and once he was settled on his back, he placed his hand on her back feeling her breath. It took both of them moments to fall asleep comforted by the presence of each other. 

[mellowdave]

Fixs and Things –

Or “The Exciting World of Old Landcruiser Ownership”

So friday as I left for work, I suddenly got every warning light in my truck lit and beeping, telling me “she cant take na more!”. I thought it was just an error from having washed pollen off and heavily spraying the area around the cowl, but pretty quick, almost as fast as I turned onto McNeil the temp gauge went up and it became apparent that something was wrong. Since the temperature was involved, and you cant play with overheating on these vehicles, I pulled over and shut her off. As soon as I stepped out I heard the bubbling and knew it really was hot, not just an erroneous error light, so I popped the hood and one of my two alternator/water pump belts was hanging in pieces, and the other was wrapped around the crank pulley. Since the truck has two, I could have reset the remaining good one and limped along, but I was only a couple of blocks from home so I let her cool and then drove home in two stages and parked her.

that’s not right…

The lights weren’t wrong…

I ordered the belts from Toyota of Cedar Park, and of course they wouldn’t be in til Saturday (life with a 25 year old truck). Saturday we had Jack’s Drill Meet, Hal Aaron, and it ran late, and I didnt get out there to pick them up (they close at 5) but even so, luck had more in store for me, when we came out of the drill meet, all happy and pleased with ourselves, we found the right rear tire completely flat and the Buick sitting hard on the pavement. Upon pulling it off I found two things, one it has a large screw broken off inside it, and two, the inner sidewall is trashed, and the tire isn’t fit for use. Clearly it had been driven on low pressure for a while, heating up the sidewall, and causing it to fail. Meh.

yeah, thats flat…

There’s a big ugly screw in there…

So my truck was down, and now Sam’s too, combine these two and you get a stressful week. I’ve been driving her car pn the donut spare all week waiting on additional Toyota parts, and she’s grumpy about not having wheels, I’m grumpy about not having MY wheels, and all in all it’s upsetting the normal flow around here. Everyone in this family is very resistant to change of any kind, except maybe for Jack, he doesn’t care, blissfully cruising through life.

We finally got out to Toyota of Cedar Park (Great dealership btw) on Monday morning and picked up the belts so that evening we started buttoning things back up.

New parts are so lovely…

Jack and I were making good progress til we test fit the radiator shroud and we very carefully broke the bypass nipple off the radiator. We had to MacGiver a fix since I couldn’t really wait two more weeks for the replacement radiator to arrive, 25 year old Landcruiser parts like that aren’t usually in stock at your local shop…

Nice clean threads

We ended up drilling out the area where the nipple attached, and tapping it for a 1/2 inch NPT fitting with a barb for the hose. There are few smaller options, and I was worried about not having enough material to make suitable threads with a smaller diameter fitting. It was somewhat stressful punching a big hole were only a tiny port was supposed to go, but since the radiator was broken, I couldn’t really make it worse, and we dove right in. We used a heat gun to soften and stress relieve the plastic around the fitting, and very slowly drilled the hole with a step bit to prevent bind cracking.

right before I epoxied it in

That went without a hitch, and we re-warmed the plastic, and slowly turned the fitting in to make threads in the plastic tank. Once it setup I screwed it back out, coated the threads in epoxy and screwed it back in hopefully permanently.

So far so good.

Its been 210 miles now and no leaks, so I think this will get me through a bit til I order the replacement radiator. I would have ordered it straight away but I had the unexpected expense of new tires for the Buick as I said, so wait we will. It has just been a perfect storm of vehicle issues this last week, and the pain is that I knew the belts needed replacing. I put it off last month and just tightened them to reduce noise. We had a lot going on with birthdays and work and inclement weather so I just pushed them a little too far.

This guy…

I would not have completed this work with my mental faculties intact without my Son Jack’s help. The guy is a trooper, and Mr Positivity on projects like this.

J removing the oil filter

He can just get in there and almost immediately see what needs to be done, and a good way to do it. Among other things, when I couldn’t get the stainless elbow for the thermostat to line up with the housing, and sat above watching me struggle with it til he saw what was happening and just reached down and slipped them together. I would have fought it for another hour at least. He says sometimes that he wants to be a mechanic, and I honestly can’t fault him, it’s a solid profession with the right training.

Mama got new shoes…

We put new tires on the Buick yesterday, and despite being about 1500.00 poorer, between the tires and various Toyota parts, my peace of mind is increased immeasurably. Cest ‘La Vie.

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