#and barely prevented himself from calling before dawn

[k-odyssey]

Later that day...

#destined with you #kdrama #jo bo ah #rowoon #kim seok woo #gifs #i imagine he stayed up all night asking himself #am i thinking about her? #am i? #no #and barely prevented himself from calling before dawn #so he could hear her voice #and tell her he hadn't thought about her at all

[starsreminisce]

The bonus chapters do provide context and throwbacks to the main books, and it's frustrating to think they wouldn't impact the overall story. After all, the ACOMAF bonus chapter cemented Nessian's relationship and added depth to their story. SJM excels at weaving these elements seamlessly. Therefore, it feels like a step backward to argue that Elain will face a choice when the bonus chapter clearly shows Azriel's feelings for her and his developing friendship with Gwyn.

Elain demonstrably showed interest in Azriel, but he rejected her. Rhys reminded Azriel that Elain and Lucien still have a bond, and Lucien has the right to defend it. Elain returned his necklace, which Azriel then gave to Gwyn.

Both ACOSF bonus chapters establish context. Azriel's chapter clarifies his sullen behavior at the solstice, and Gwyn starts calling him "Shadowsinger" after he reveals the title. Feyre's chapter explains their choice of the name Nyx for their son.

Therefore, it's confusing why SJM would regress Elain and Azriel's interactions. The bonus chapter clearly showed Azriel hurting Elain to the point of returning his gift. Additionally, it focused on his growing investment in Gwyn. Elain's book likely won't start with a love triangle involving Lucien and Azriel. The bonus chapter suggests Elain has already made her choice.

Ideally, Elain's book will explore her reasons for accepting Azriel's rejection and delve into her feelings for her true mate. Most importantly, we should see Elain stand up for herself against Azriel. This is the third time he's acted without considering her, similar to how Tomas motivated Nesta to overcome her fear.

ACOMAF Bonus Chapter:

He didn’t care. Didn’t give a shit as she rose up on her toes, her mouth nearing his— Pain exploded between his legs, knocking the breath from his chest as that gods- damned knee of hers indeed found its mark. Cassian staggered back, swearing viciously. She snorted, looking down at him as he fell on his ass into an armchair, clutching his stomach, trying to reorder his brain— “You’re all the same,” she said, imperious as the night and cold as the dawn. “Perhaps being an immortal makes you predictable.”

In ACOMAF:

I’d had one break from Cassian’s brutal training—just one morning, when he’d flown to the human realm to see if my sisters had heard from the queens and deliver another letter from Rhys to be sent to them. I assumed seeing Nesta went about as poorly as could be imagined, because my lesson the following morning was longer and harder than it’d been in previous days. I’d asked what, exactly, Nesta had said to him to get under his skin so easily. But Cassian had only snarled and told me to mind my own business, and that my family was full of bossy, know-it-all females.

In ACOSAF:

He didn’t know why the hell he cared. Why he’d bothered. Even from the start. Even after she’d kneed him in the balls that one afternoon at her father’s house.

ACOMAF Bonus Chapter:

No, she had not been with any male, Fae or human. Tomas had wanted to, and she . . . some part of her had known no future lay with him. Knew about his hateful father, and that he did nothing to prevent the man from beating his mother. She had barely let Tomas kiss her, and that day when she had ended it, he’d . . . She swallowed, shutting out the memory of what he’d said and done. The sound of her tearing dress. No—it hadn’t gone that far, but . . . The blind terror in those moments he’d tried, before she’d screamed and clawed her way free. And never told anyone. Something must have shown on her face, in her scent. Because his annoyance vanished—no, it shifted. Into something else, something . . . Rage. That’s what stilled Cassian’s face. Pure, burning rage.

In ACOSF:

Three days afterward, Nesta broke it off with Tomas. Enraged, he’d launched himself at her, pinning her against the enormous woodpile stacked along the barn wall. Spiteful whore, he’d growled. You think you’re better than me? Acting like a queen when you haven’t got shit. She’d never forget the sound of her dress tearing, the greed in his eyes as his hands pawed at her skirts, trying to raise them as he fumbled with the buckle on his belt.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #antie/riel #antielriel #gwynriel

[i-cant-sing]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTR5jyERH/

Wholesome ish au where Dabi got custody of his daughter.

God- this is the best tik tok to exist 😭😭 like I just know that the man gonna give her the best life and its so beautiful 💕

As for Dabi, bro- he's way more emotional. My dude has tears streaming down his face as he finally hugs you.

Like I'm seeing Rei and Enji had gotten custody of you after Rei framed Dabi and made him kill cops. And maybe it took a couple of years (maybe 5, maybe 10) before Dabi was finally able to come out of hiding and with proof that he was framed or something to prove he was innocent. And then it was the start of a year long custody battle, and all the odds were stacked against him, especially since Enji and Rei had a whole firm working for them while Dabi only had 1 lawyer (someone like Saul Goodman lol) that he had blackmailed into working for him.

Dabi had to see Rei drag you to court and have you witness as the lawyers pulled up his past criminal life and all his villainous activities to prove that he was unfit to be a father. He hated the way they brainwashed you, the way they tried to turn you against him. He could bare it all, but he couldn't live with you fearing him. Not you.

Rei had gotten a restraining order against Dabi that prevented him from reaching out to you in any way until the custody battle was over. He couldn't even talk to you, defend himself, tell you that it's all a lie.

After 6 months of court hearing, Dabi earned ti feel that he was gonna lose the case. So he decided to do something he never wanted to do.

He went to Enji for help.

Dabi asked him to drop the custody battle, that they could both have joint custody of you, to help his son that he knows isnt as vile as they potray him. But Enji told him "I know, son, I know. But your mother- she wants full custody of Y/n. She wants you out of her life, forever." And Enji didn't budge, as much as it hurt him to watch Dabi beg on knees to help him, he couldn't.

Another month passes and the reality of losing you forever to Rei is dawning on him. It makes him depressed, he stops eating, stops sleeping, stops taking care of himself.

It isn't until the doorbell rings and his siblings walk in. They're shocked at his state, and immediately start taking care of him. Fuyumi cooked food, Shotou cleaned up around the house and Natsuo checked on Dabi.

Dabi only played around with food as he kept thinking about you. "So, how is Y/n?" He asks Natsuo, and he sees how the 3 of them share a concerned look.

"We haven't seen her... in a while."

Dabi's eyes flick up at them. "What?"

"Dabi." Fuyumi grabs his hand. "Mom- she hasn't allowed us to see Y/n for a long time now."

"How long?"

"A year."

"What?!"

"She's been keeping her at home too. Locked up ever since you demanded custody." Shotou said. "She's not a nice person."

Dabi looked at his youngest brother. "What do you mean?"

The 3 shared another look before Natsuo spoke. "Mom... she's not in the right state of mind. She's very paranoid, and as much as she loves Y/n, sometime.... her paranoia gets the best of her, and Y/n gets hurt because of it."

Dabi couldn't believe what he was hearing. Rei- she'd been hurting you? All this time, all this time that she insisted that she loves you- she's been hurting you.

"Dabi." Fuyumi called out to him. "We need to save Y/n."

"How?"

"We've got some stuff that'll help you." Natsuo smiled.

"We'll show up at court even if we have to." Shotou promised.

And for the first time in months, Dabi felt like he had a fighting chance against Rei.

"Okay."

-

Natsuo pulled some strings and got Rei's past medical history (aka the part where she was put into an asylum). Fuyumi had a few pictures of wounds on your body that you'd gotten from Rei (and Fuyumi took these pictures in the past to ask Natsuo for medical help). And Shotou? He spoke up as witness to Rei's abusive behaviour towards you, and to him in the past when she'd thrown hot water on him.

And just like that, Dabi had won the case.

All I can see is you just being frazzled as Dabi hugs you to his chest, and starts crying. You're confused and scared because Rei had told you that he was a bad man. But... he doesn't feel like it. He feels so warm, so familiar.

He feels like home.

Reluctantly, you put your arms around hum and burry your head into his chest, sobbing.

"D-dad?"

Dabi just crumbles to his knees right there and then, pulling you down with him. It's been far too long since he heard you call him that.

"Its me, baby. Its me." He hugs you tighter. "I told you I'd come back, didn't I?"

You cried harder. And Dabi could understand why. He just kisses your forehead and rocks back and forth with you. "I'm sorry I took so long. But its gonna be okay now."

His siblings run over and join in on the hug, and Dabi feels complete.

It's gonna be okay.

And then you live happily ever after with your father and his siblings💖💖💖

#yandere dad dabi #yandere dabi #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere todoroki clan #yandere endeavor #yandere rei todoroki #yandere rei #yandere shoto x reader #yandere shotou todoroki #yandere fuyumi #yandere fuyumi todoroki #yandere natsuo todoroki #yandere natsuo #yandere todoroki family #todoroki clan #Todoroki clan x reader

[hearts444karma]

helloooo! Saw your requests are open!

Would love to request a Zali x reader where he's frustrated with something that happened during his outings as a hero. Could be either SFW or NSFW! I just wanna destress the babygirl ^_^

「　𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 ！」　☆彡　vezalius bandage

💌 : YEAAAAAAAA COMFORTING THE BABYGIRLLLL!!! there’s a snippet of angst in the beginning (if you wanna call it that-) BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT <33

in a bustling city, where heroes soared through the skies and villains lurked in the shadows, there was one medic hero who stood out among the rest – vezalius, known for his unwavering dedication to saving lives.

yet, beneath his heroic facade, zali carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. every life he couldn't save haunted him, every failure etched deep within his soul. 

one particularly grueling day, where despite his best efforts, he couldn't prevent a tragedy, zali returned to his humble apartment feeling defeated and frustrated.

as he slumped onto his couch, his mind replayed the events of the day, the faces of those he couldn't save haunting him relentlessly. just then, a gentle knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"you okay in there, zali?" your voice was soft, filled with concern.

zali managed a weak smile as you entered, your presence a welcome relief. "hey, thanks for coming," he said, gratitude evident in his tone.

"saw the news. rough day?" you asked, settling beside him on the couch.

he nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. instead, he leaned into your comforting presence, finding solace in your silent support.

sensing his distress, you knew he needed a way to release his pent-up frustration. with a mischievous glint in your eye, you suggested a distraction – a game of cards, a simple yet effective way to take his mind off the day's events.

"come on, let's play something," you urged, pulling out a deck of cards from your bag.

zali hesitated for a moment before nodding, grateful for the distraction. "alright, sounds good."

as the game progressed, laughter filled the room, easing the tension that had gripped zali’s heart. with each smile that graced his lips, you felt a sense of relief wash over you, knowing you were able to provide him with a moment of respite from his duties as a hero.

"this is nice," zali admitted, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

you returned his smile, feeling a warmth blossom in your chest. "yeah, it is."

as the night wore on, the atmosphere between you shifted, the air thick with unspoken desire.

"hey, zali?" you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

"yeah?" he turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

without a word, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss. in that moment, all the frustration and pain melted away, replaced by a rush of desire and longing.

in each other's arms, zali found the solace he had been searching for, the weight of the world melting away as he lost himself in you.

and as the night faded into dawn, the two of you found comfort in each other's embrace, knowing that no matter what challenges the future held, you would face them together.

"i’m glad you're here," zali whispered, his voice filled with gratitude.

"always," you replied, intertwining your fingers with his. "i’ll always be here for you."

#nijien #nijisanji en #nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji #.karmadelulu #vezalius bandage x reader #nijisanji krisis #krisis x reader #vezalius bandage

[shinigamimailjeevas]

So I have seen a lot of 5B/6A rewrites done, but I have had a few ideas sitting in a folder for almost two years now... should I even bother with them?

Fic (A): is (supposed) to be shorter, more comical. 5B accidental fake-dating.

"Jfc Liam! You are literally sleeping with the enemy and now you're trying to convince me he's Good?" Stiles voice reaches an impressive--if also painful-octave towards the end, and if Liam wasn't rubbing his ears whilst also scurrying to offer a retort that nets him a favorable response, he would laugh. 

It dawns on him, much slower than it should, that Stiles has actually given him the answer. "Yes. I- we are sleeping together. That's how I know he's not lying when he says he wants to help us. You can't manage your heart rate during sex. He couldn't lie." Of course they have engaged in no such activities and Liam has no idea if what he spouts about is true, but he only needs Stiles to believe it. Scott probably can't confirm or deny it, and with Derek and Peter out of the picture currently there really is no one qualified enough to disprove him. Theo, the unhelpful bastard, snorts softly from behind him. Thankfully too low for Stiles to hear but it makes Liam want to mule kick him. He's debating on trying when Stiles stops his anxious, rightfully furious fidgeting to bore his crazy eyes into Liam's. He forces himself not to squirm. 

"Say I believe this insanity," Liam nearly collapses with relief and it is only by Theo's hand carefully touching the small of his back that prevents it, surprises him so fully he goes rigid. "Say that I think for one second you haven't been corrupted right along with him, Why? Why would he suddenly decide to help."

Liam nearly snarly in frustration. "I told you-"

"Because no one else has ever given me a chance and meant it." Theo says quietly. For once, Liam actually believes he's telling the truth. "I can't let them hurt Liam. Or Scott. Or even you, Stiles." 

Stiles groans, tipping forward to shove his head into awaiting hands. His next string of words are so muffled that Liam can barely make them out but for the ending "Okay. We are calling Scott."

Liam grins.

.

Theo pushes him against the closet wall the second Stiles is out of the room, phone pressed to his ear as he tries to cajole Scott and the others into a meeting without expressly telling them why. Arm braced across Liam's collarbone he bares his teeth and flashes golden eyes. "We are sleeping together. That's the best you could come up with?" 

Liam shoves at the slightly older and taller teen, growling when he barely manages to budge him. "I didn't see you trying to dig yourself out of that hole. Do you even want to be saved? Because I'm not seeing it." The pressure at his chest goes slack and Liam uses the chance to flip them, slam the chimera into the wall. He has to look up to catch his gaze, which has hardened. "We are in this together now. I want my pack safe and you want out from under the Dread Doctors' boots. So put your damn manipulation skills to work and help me convince them you give a shit about something other than yourself." 

"You're hot when you're angry." 

Liam sighs. "That's a start I guess." 

-------

Fic (B): is a bit more involved and a lot darker. 

Blood drips from his extended claws back into the body beneath him. Chest still heaving with exertion, still stuffed full of too much Rage, he barely has any time for hysteria to creep in as his actions—and the consequences—make themselves known. Scott's eyes flutter one last time before stilling, frozen half open as alpha red flickers and fades from his eyes. Thump thu-

What had he done? Breaths coming quicker, he shoves himself up and away, stumbling backwards in horror. He feels it as he flares his eyes, that extra boost of power only alphas contain. He tips his head back and Roars—pain, grief, and disbelief warring for dominance in the cry. The sound cuts off with a choked gurgle and searing agony. Ten points of sharp, dagger like pain explode through his back. With a swift sideways motion his spine is severed and his legs give out, dropping him to the library floor in a heap, blood spilling rapidly outwards around him. 

"Well, looks like the beta with anger issues pulled through. I wasn't sure if you could do it in all honesty. Bravo." Stood above him is Theo, grin wide and mocking as he slowly claps his hands. "Now, I think I will take what's mine." Confusion barely has time to settle before Theo strikes. A clawed hand pushes into Liam and the last thing he sees as his vision wavers, grays out around the edges and goes dark- is the sinister, if a bit apologetic, twist of Theo's lips...

Liam wakes to the smell of cooking meat. His brain feels scrambled. Left hand twitching and along with it, the realization comes that he can't currently move. Why? As more senses come online and more feeling returns to his limbs he is still confused. What happened? How is he alive?

.

"Don't... Just don't do this to the others. Please." Head hung low, and knelt before the new alpha, Liam begs quietly. The chuckle surprises him. "Oh, Liam. Liam. Liam." A hand drops to his head, scratches lightly at his scalp, enough that he feels like a damn dog. "The others were never on my radar. Just you." Liam snaps his gaze to the older teen, wide eyed and hunted. "I never imagined the bond with alphas and betas could be so strong. And your anger burns bright and hot at all times. I wonder," Theo grabs a fistful of his hair and sharply yanks Liam's head back. "If Scott ever felt this way. Ever wanted to pin you down, strip you naked and claim you..." Theo leans into his space, breathes warmly across his lips, and Liam swallows. 

"Get undressed."

Liam hesitates. 

“Do it, and maybe the others will get a nice hot meal today.” The smirk thrown his way makes Liam's stomach roll, nausea and anger and utter despair- he strips off his shirt first, under the alphas ever watchful gaze.

-----

Fic (C) The final one (if we are ignoring the Thiamott time-travel one I originally had and just... haven't gotten to) is where Theo comes out of the skinwalker prison a little different. Dirt fills his mouth with earthy clods that choke his lungs when he gasps, hands and claws gripping the edge of a hole he's had to dig out of. Wildly he looks around. Confused, anxious. Where was Tara? Blue eyes. That exact shade he will never not recognize, so he barrels into Liam Dunbar, Scott's angry little beta and pins him to the nearest wall with the intention of demanding to know where is his sister. All that comes out is a snarl through parted lips. Nausea crawls up his esophagus and settles heavy in his mouth. Trying to speak floods his mouth with saliva until he is pushing away from the confused beta, to hunch over and empty his stomach. Vaguely he hears a disgusted sound, a pair of voices and feels a hesitant hand at his back. The weight is enough to sweep what little control Theo had of his body away from him, sending the chimera to his knees. The pain of his shins hitting concrete is real, so very real. More real than whatever pain he felt with the endless sessions with his sister and her hand plunging into his chest. He came back wrong. Or maybe right. It hurts to even think of speaking. So Theo doesn't.

#Poll #my polls #teen wolf fanfiction #Thiam #5B #should I do any??

[homerforsure]

Hi Allison! If you're inspired anytime, "Washing their hair for them when they can't," from the prompt list?

Hi Morgan! Thank you so much for this! It got wildly out of hand but I promise the prompt is in here. I just had to get all the hurt out of the way before I got to the comfort. 😉

Long Way Down

Summary: A rope rescue gone wrong leaves Buck fighting to save a hapless victim. And himself.

Rated: T

Word Count: 11959

They don’t talk about it on the drive home. Eddie keeps the radio down low and the window cracked to let in a breeze and his eyes are on Buck almost more than they’re on the road. Buck pretends he doesn’t notice. 

He shifts his feet and the floor mat slides up as he does, bending awkwardly under the dash. Slouched down in the seat, Buck’s knees knock against the glove compartment and he can’t change his position without bashing them against something else. He doesn’t know how Eddie manages to sit like this all the time. They’re basically the same height. Buck shouldn’t feel like he’s been flat packed for shipping just trying to sit in the passenger seat of his car. 

Reaching for the lever under the seat to move it would hurt too much. Getting annoyed about it almost hurts too much. Buck’s muscles tense and then retreat immediately from the threatening snarl of pain. He flops back against the seat, making a sound that’s part sigh, part whimper, and part curse and Eddie’s hands tighten around the steering wheel.

“We’re almost there,” he says. 

Buck nods. Painfully. And picks at the bandages on his arms.

*

The call came in just before dawn, the alarm rousing them all from the sleep they’d finally managed to settle into only a couple hours earlier. A man had gone for a hike in the dark, hoping to reach the peak in time to take in the sunrise, and the trail had fallen away beneath his feet. He’d plummeted, along with a dump truck’s worth of rock and dirt, and had somehow landed in one of the shrubby trees that grew out of the rocks all throughout the hills. A witness had been able to confirm that he was alive. 

Due to the narrowness of the trail, they had to leave the trucks in the parking area and double-time it up to the accident site. Thankfully, it was barely more than a mile and the popular path was flat and easy to run. Forest service said that they might be able to rout an ATV out that way in time to help cart the victim out, but no one was planning on it. 

“You know. I could get into nature if it wasn’t always trying to kill you,” Chimney mused as they hustled toward their destination. “The problem is: you stop to admire the view and POW. A squirrel bites your ankle and a rock the size of a Volkswagen lands on your head.”

“Or a large boulder the size of a small boulder,” Ravi said.

He got five matching looks of confusion and almost stopped running.

“Come on,” he said. “None of you remember the boulder?”

“If it’s the size of a small boulder, doesn’t that just make it a small boulder?”

“Forget it,” Ravi sighed and picked up his pace again. 

The original witness met them a few yards from the scene. Her entire front was covered in dust, but she didn’t look hurt.  

“911 told me not to stand right where he fell,” she explained as the team approached. “I was laying down so I could see him, trying to keep him calm, but he’s kind of losing it a little.”

“You did good,” Bobby assured her. “We’ll take it from here.”

Sheepishly adjusting the straps on her backpack, she said, “I guess the trail to the top is probably closed for the day, huh?”

They walked the rest of the way. Everyone assumed the same cautious gait as if tiptoeing would somehow prevent the rest of the trail from giving way beneath them. Without really meaning to, Buck found himself drifting just a little closer to the edge, trying to sneak a peek down to their victim and the path he’d be rappelling in a few short minutes. Eddie reached out and tugged his belt, pulling him back onto ground that at least looked a little safer even though none of them had any way of telling if it actually was. 

“Help! Get me out of here! Help! Heeeeelllllllllp!”

As they turned a corner, the voice of their victim came rising up from some two dozen feet below. It wasn’t difficult to see where he’d fallen. The trail went from being wide enough for two people to pass beside each other to barely having room for one. An enormous bite was taken out of the side of the cliff and the normally sloped and grassy drop was now nearly vertical. 

Holding out his arms to stop them, Bobby said, “Alright, we’re gonna consider all of this ground unstable. Unless you’re on a rope or holding a rope, I want you back away from the edge.

“Buck, we’re gonna send you down there. Just get him secure and get him back up. We’ll assess any injuries here at the top.” 

“Easy peasey, Cap.”

Because of the amount of the cliff that had been sheared away with the landslide, there was no way to drop a straight line down to where the victim lay, draped over the skinny tree trunk like a sheet hung out to dry. It was a miraculous landing (though Buck was sure the man below would have preferred something slightly more miraculous) and it must have knocked the wind out of him when he landed. His backpack had slid toward his head and the weight prevented him from looking anywhere but at that long, long way down. 

His position meant that he couldn’t help with his own rescue at all. Buck would have to come down a couple yards to the side and scramble his way across the crumbly cliff face. Eddie would manage the winch at the top, carefully letting out enough line to let Buck move without giving so much that he dropped too low. It was a little tricky with the loose stone and the shrub bushes that grew out of the hill, but nothing they couldn’t manage. 

Of course the man didn’t stop screaming the entire time. 

“I’m coming to you,” Buck announced, leaning backward over the edge of the cliff and nodding to Eddie that he was ready to start his descent. “Just keep calm and I’ll be right there.” 

“Get me out of here!”

“Or keep yelling and make everything harder,” Buck muttered under his breath. “That works too.”

Without a stable rock ledge to balance on, Buck had to pull himself along using the remains of tree roots. Every large rock he tried to grab just fell away under his fingers and he was grateful for the gloves that let him keep a tighter grip than his bare hands would have managed. 

“I’m almost there. I’m Buck; I’m gonna help you out. You’re doing gre- Ah! Fuck!”

One misstep and Buck had let go of his safety root before he knew he had a solid grip on the next handhold and he was falling. He had the harness and he had Eddie, but Buck’s stomach still dropped and he gave an undignified yelp as the ground rushed toward him. He swung like a pendulum, grasping wildly at anything he could reach as the scrape of the rope sent a shower of dirt and rocks falling down on his head.

Read the rest on AO3

#911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie fic #evan buckley fic #evan buckley whump #hurt/comfort #rescue gone wrong #allison writes

[bellsplit]

` ❅ ||   fallesto.  »   (  FROM.  )

a  single  eye  cracks  open  to  greet  the  dawn,   even though he can't actually stand in the sun.     a yawn to initiate the awakening of his mind is given,  flashing the full length of wicked fangs that had been tucked away so neatly the night before,  never once ghosting against his beloved's skin.     the rough pads of inked fingers press against that scarred skin with a foreign sweetness,  careful when they touch anything that feels  swollen  or warmer than usual to indicate the presence of a bruise.     there's a slow tilt of his head so he can pillow his striped cheek against the crown of fiery hair that rests against his chest,  which noticeably sinks as he exhales a long,  bone—deep,  weary sigh.

"  ...mm ... you weren't supposed to hear that,  kyojuro.  "

he'd genuinely thought the slayer to still be deeply asleep when he'd idly said that  —  you're  all  that's  left,   we  can't  live  this  lie  forever.     it's an honest admission,  painfully so,  & the lie is not these feelings that are blossoming between them ... feelings that had driven him to prevent the execution of the closest thing that he'd ever felt that he could call  friend.     no,  the lie is the farce that they'll be able to  carry  on  like this,  with their backs turned on either side of a war that's raged on in secrecy for centuries.

that  man  could kill him in an instant.     akaza knows it,  but he isn't so sure that  kyojuro  knows it too.

the oni shifts a little when his lover momentarily sits up to stretch,  taking the opportunity to move just a bit closer to the center of their shared futon to soak up kyojuro's warmth as another yawn bares his fierce maw to the faint glow of his eyes.     leave it to kyojuro to have remembered to block up each crack in the little house to prevent any shafts of light from getting in ... he's endlessly grateful for that amount of care.     the idea of being touched by the sun again is not one that he relishes.     that's why he gives a painfully fond smile when the pillar lays back down,  easing an arm beneath him & resting his chin atop his head once more  —  for the first time in his long life,  someone is doing something kind for him without expecting to get something in return.

kyojuro ... cares  about him.     it's something that the oni had never expected to come to terms with,  nor is it something that he's certain that he deserves.     but akaza doesn't dwell on that,  choosing instead to angle his head & look down at the human couched so comfortably against his side.     demons do not sleep,  no,  but after last night's ... events ... the crescent moon had been so comfortable beneath kyojuro's warm weight that he'd allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts.

he's never ... made  love  to anyone before.

sex is usually a boring affair for akaza.     with lesser demons it's always the same attempts to curry favor,  bodies offered for him to destroy in their master's name ;    however,  the brutalist treatment of his own body by the two kizuki above him to keep him in his place is so wretched that he refuses  down  to  his  last  cell  to remember it.     but with kyojuro ... everything had felt different.     electrified,  his heart pounding in his chest,  his nerves singing ... alive,   just like when he uses his blood demon art,  only ten times heightened.

"  kyojuro.     i'm  the one who will do all the fighting,  got it?     you just focus on getting yourself  right  so we can keep going.  "

he shifts when his lover rises to look at him,  but the weight on his chest & behind kyojuro's singular gaze pins him firmly in place.     cornered,  like kyojuro had been that night in the courtyard beneath the pouring rain & vicious allegations levied against him.     powerless  against the forces working against him,  unable to escape what the powers that be had deigned to be his fate.

& yet ... akaza had intervened.     akaza had stepped in  knowing  that  it  wasn't  his  place,   knowing  that  this  would  end  in  nothing  but  tragedy.

inked fingers brush against kyojuro's left cheek & up so he can cradle it in his cool palm,  a gesture that he'd only ever seen in passing & never actually been able to do.     hm.     it feels ... nice,   even if this is only a fleeting respite from the cursed path that they have to walk down.     after all,  that  man  can choose to destroy him at any time ... can't he?     it's been  far  too  quiet  lately ... there's no way that his master doesn't know what he's done.

it hangs heavy over him,  his personal sword of damocles.

"  i just——  i can't risk losing you.  "

#fallesto #` ❅ || ᴛ ʀ ᴜ s ᴛ ғ ᴀ ʟ ʟ . » ( V001.2. ) #` ❅ || ғᴀʟʟ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʟᴛᴀʀ. » ( CONTENT WARNING. ) #has to make this extra sappy.

[azriels-angels]

Series Masterlist

Even with his sleeves rolled up and the first few buttons undone on his shirt, Eris' back and abdomen was still damp with sweat. 

The mid-day sun began to set, shining through the orange and yellow Maple trees surrounding him, accentuating his red hair against the bright colors. Eris sat on the brown stoned steps of the Autumn Court palace, his white Blood Hounds next to him and at his feet, still panting from the hunt they had just embarked on. 

It was dawn when Eris was alerted that there was a lingering presence at the Autumn Court borders. He didn't need to investigate who it was; he already knew. Though, that did not stop the cunning male from dressing for the occasion—silk, button-up, caramel dress shirt with auburn slacks and a pair of brown, knee-high boots—before winnowing into the Redwood Forrest at the edge of the border, leaving Aurelius to sleep with Bellatrix and Adonis. 

However, by the time Eris had met his hounds at the borders of the Autumn and Winter Court, the musky scent of night-chilled mist and cedar was the only essence left, indicating that someone was lurking. 

Shadowsinger.

Annoyance warmed Eris' head while his hounds continued to sniff out the area. With a taut jaw and flared nostrils, he began to walk back to the Manor to appease his mind.

Two years ago, Eris swore his allegiance to the Night Court behind his father's back. Now, a High Lord and a father, the loyalty with the former rival court still stood vigorous. Though no one outside the Autumn Court other than his mother and Lucien knew of the babe, Eris still trusted Rhysand and his Inner Circle. By the Cauldron, he even befriended the brute Illyrian General after many nights of drinks and raw, unrestrained words shared between each other. Eris and the Illyrian had found that they had more alike than expected. Eventually, this led to Eris and Lucien being allowed to enjoy Starfall in the Night Court; and the Night Court receiving annual invitations to the Autumn Equinox Festival, Thesmophoria, that the Autumn Court held. 

Which circled back to the topic at hand. It was routine for the Shadowsinger to stick his nose into the Autumn Court a few weeks before Thesmophoria. Though, the Festival wasn't till three months from now. Mother spare him; it was still fucking Spring. So why was the shadowsinger inspecting this early? It was as if he was deliberately trying Eris' patience. Even after befriending the male he called bother and making amends with the majority of his court, the Shadowsinger still seemed to have a sense of animosity towards Eris. Although, it didn't help that Eris could barely prevent himself from making snide remarks and teasing insults.

Eris sighed through his nose, winnowing himself into the nursery, where he knew his brother waited. Lucien was not expected to visit today. He always came and left the Palace whenever he pleased, never notifying Eris beforehand. But Eris hadn't ever needed a warning. The magic Eris built into the Palace wards let him know who came and went and only allowed the ones who shared the same blood as him to winnow in. That being just his mother and Lucien. 

Dressed in a white, sheer sash with golden embroidery across his tan, muscled chest and matching white pants, Lucien said nothing as he stared at the massive black burns staining the deep forest green walls. His nephew was in his arms, all attention consumed by Lucien's gold, mechanical eye.

"What happened to the crib?"

Eris tucked his hands into his pant pockets, biceps flexing. "The bassinet got stained,"

"So you lit it on fire?" Lucien turned towards his brother, a scarred brow arched.

Was that amusement? Concern? Judgment? Eris only shrugged before a small smirk tugged at his lips as he assessed his brother's fine clothing.

"I assume you're here to gossip over tea and crumpets?"

Lucien mirrored Eris' teasing grin as he made his way towards the door, carrying Aurelius into the dining hall as he assessed his brother with a quick once-over. 

"I can wait while you change into more suitable clothing,"

Eris only scoffed as he took Aurelius from Lucien's arms and sat him on the high chair before seating himself at the head of the glazed, redwood table. Lucien took seat at the right of Eris, humming in approval when the ridiculous amount of food appeared, covering the entire table. 

Throughout the meal, they filled each other in on everything that had happened this past month. She's doing great, very happy Lucien had said of their mother, between a mouthful of stuffing after they'd talked about Helion, the Night Court visiting Autumn, and very briefly of Elain. 

"She still worries about you," 

Eris cocked a brow as he cut into his portion of the turkey. 

Lucien carefully added, "It's not news that being a lone parent can be difficult,"

Eris only chuckled, "I'm doing perfectly fine on my own, brother. No need to mother hen," 

Lucien looked at his nephew, excitedly stuffing mashed potatoes and pumpkin into his tiny mouth, small pieces of food somehow ending up on his bare head.

"When's the last time you've had a full night's rest?"

Eris sat to his full height, sizing up the male.

"Two nights ago,"

Lie. Lucien's golden eye shimmered as if knowing.

"And the last time you got work done?"

"This morning,"

"Had a court meeting?"

"Two weeks ago,"

"Proper alone time?"

A pause.

"Last week,"

Lies, lies, lies.

But his brother did not yield. "You need help."

Eris sighed, pouring himself a handsome amount of whisky in his wine glass before downing it whole. "I don't need help; I need a nice fuck,"

Lucien's booming laugh echoed throughout the dining hall, startling Aurelius and making him release an unpleased whimper.

"That you do," Lucien grinned to himself as the display of food disappeared, a grand pecan pie replacing it. 

Eris had been celibate ever since Aurelius was born. Four months of no fucking had left Eris' sex drive low, only becoming high in more stressful, aggravating times. Like now.

The aroma of night chilled mist and cedar still lingered in his lungs.

Lucien's brows crossed, frowning in disapproval, "No blueberry pie?"

Eris only clenched his utensils tighter, his eyes quickly scanning his son, tiny hands grabbing at the pie. "No blueberries." 

Lucien's brows rose, and the scar cutting through his left eyebrow lifted with it as he made the connection before his booming laugh echoed through the hall once again.

#the burn you left inside me #eris x harmionia #eris x oc #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar #acosf #acomaf #acofas #acowar #acotar series #fanfic #sarah j maas #acotar smut #eris acotar smut #eris x reader #eris smut #eris x reader smut #eris acotar

[depressedbagpipe]

The Freak and the Jedi (Eddie Munson x female!Henderson!reader)

Chapter four: Dear Billy

Words: 3920 Warnings: foul language, the entire episode is a trigger warning in itself, canon-typical violence, a little misogyny i guess, robin running. also, i can't remember if i proofread this :/ A/N: so I kind of forgot about this chapter when I first thought about the plot of this fic, so I had to figure out what to do with the reader. i left out victor creel's story because, a) we all know it by now, and b) the chapter would otherwise be too long. Taglist: @authorlovers, @angiewhoohooo, @thatsamegirl, @lizzy-95, @elleeeee21, @tanyaherondale, @le-who-zer-her, @toobsessedsstuff

Series Masterlist Previous chapter <> Next chapter

Chapter four: Dear Billy

“It was here,” Max’s voice trembled. “Right here.”

We were now standing before an empty wall, our flashlights pointed to the tiles as Max recited her vision.

“A grandfather clock?” Nancy asked.

“It was so real. And then, when I got closer, suddenly I just… I woke up,” Max explained.

“It was like she was in a trance or something,” Dustin spoke.

“Exactly what Eddie said happened to Chrissy,” I finished for him.

Max turned around, facing us. “That’s not even the bad part,” she said before walking back to the office, her fingers slightly trembling as they scanned Ms. Kelley’s handwriting. “Fred and Chrissy, they both came to Miss Kelley for help,” Robin took Chrissy’s file while Nancy took Fred’s. “Uh, they both were having headaches, bad headaches that wouldn’t go away. And then… then the nightmares. Trouble sleeping. They’d wake up in a cold sweat. And then they started seeing things,” Robin’s arms tensed below me, as I was sitting on her lap on the only chair at the desk. “Bad things. From their past. And these visions, they just… they kept on getting worse and worse, until eventually… everything ended.

“Vecna’s curse,” Robin confirmed.

“Chrissy’s headache started a week ago,” we were all looking at her intently, most of us speechless. “Fred’s, six days ago,” Max wasn’t looking at us anymore. “I’ve been having them for five days.”

Just then, the glass seemed to break. Realization dawned on us like cold water. 

“I don’t know how long I have,” Max was crying now. “All I know is that, for Fred and Chrissy, they both died less than twenty-four hours after their first vision. And I just saw that goddamn clock, so…” her breath was shaky. “looks like I’m gonna die tomorrow.”

A distant clang distracted us, making all of us turn our heads towards the door of the office on high alert.  

“Stay here,” Steve said before walking to the door, grabbing the tall lamp by the door and holding it ready to attack whoever was coming our way. 

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s go,” I said as I stood from Robin’s lap, all of us walking out and following Steve with tentative steps. 

A figure quickly appeared in front of us, the sudden movement making all of us in fear before realizing it was Lucas.

“It’s me!” Lucas yelled too, extending his arms out to prevent Steve from splitting his head open.

“Lucas?” Nancy and I called, his unexpected presence throwing us off.

“Jesus, what’s wrong with you, Sinclair?” Steve screamed at him, his hair pointing in different directions.

“I’m sorry!” Lucas was breathing heavily.

“I could’ve taken you out with this lamp!” Steve kept going as he tried to calm down.

“Sorry, guys, sorry. I was… I was biking for eight miles. Give me a second. Shit,” he kept panting, holding a finger out. He was barely holding himself up but kept talking regardless. “We’ve got a code red.”

“What?” Steve asked.

“Dustin,” Lucas ignored Steve and walked directly to my brother. “I’ve been with Jason, Patrick, and Andy, and they’ve gone like totally off the rails. They’re trying to capture Eddie, and they think you know where he is,” Lucas gulped. “You’re in terrible danger.”

I froze on the spot, looking at them with an alarmed face.

Dustin only shrugged. “All right, yeah, that definitely sucks, but we’ve got bigger problems than Jason right now,” he answered as he looked back at Max, her face reflecting everyone’s fear.

“Okay, so…” Nancy looked at us with a wide smile. “We have a plan.” 

Nancy, Robin, and I quickly descended towards the basement, freshly printed files in our hands as we excitedly delivered the news to the guys.

“Thanks to Nancy’s newspaper minions, we are now rock-star psychology students at the University of Notre Dame,” Robin said as the guys looked at the files.

“I’m now Ruth,” said Nancy.

“I’m Ruby,” I said.

“And I’m Rose,” Robin concluded, with a rather disgusted face.

 Steve looked at Nancy with a funny look. “Ruth?”

“Nice GPA,” said Dustin with an impressed face. “Not that far from your actual one,” he winked at me.

I winked at him back. “Thanks.”

“So we called Pennhurst Asylum, told them we’d like to speak with Victor Creel for a thesis we’re co-writing on paranoid schizophrenics…”

“To which they said no,” added Robin.

“But we landed a three o’clock with the director.” Nancy finished.

“Now, all we have to do is charm him and convince him to let us talk to Victor,” I concluded.

“Then maybe we can rid Max of this curse,” said Nancy, looking at her from her place across the basement.

Max hadn’t even lifted her head when the three of us came in, quickly writing something down that she wouldn’t let us see until she was finished, so we just left her to her own until she was ready to speak.

“Yeah, about that,” Steve interrupted, lifting his eyebrows as he went over the newspapers Nancy and Robin had retrieved from the library. “We’ve been doing our Victor Creel homework, and, uh, we got some questions.”

“Lots of questions,” Lucas confirmed.

“So do we. Hopefully, Victor has the answers,” I responded, bringing my hands together and trying to make my point across.

“Wait… wait… wait a second. Uh, where’s mine?” Steve was holding our files in his hands, waving them in the air as he looked at the three of us expectantly.

Steve was already chasing after Nancy upstairs. Robin and I followed them while we laughed at his antics, complaining about being the babysitter yet again. 

Robin’s eyes opened wide as she took a look inside Nancy’s room. “Oh my god, you have a Tom Cruise poster!” she stopped dead in her tracks, looking at her with a knowing smile. “You have a Tom Cruise poster,” she repeated while Nancy went through her closet, ignoring Robin as she tried to keep Steve at bay.

“Can you please not touch anything?” Nancy yelled at Robin, who was looking through Nancy’s mixtapes by her bedside table.

“I can’t do anything here, Nance,” Steve tried. “Uh, maybe I can be helpful with this asylum director dude. I don’t know, I could like turn on like my… my charm,” I snorted at him.

“Like you charmed Mr. García?” I offered with a grin, enjoying Steve’s glare.

“Not the charm we need,” Nancy concluded.

“Ouch,” Steve added, facing Robin, who kept touching things.

Nancy looked apologetic. “No, I just… Look, I did a little digging last night, and it turns out this Dr. Hatch is a distinguished fellow of the American Psychiatric Association and a Harvard visiting scholar, okay? This is a lifelong student of the world, and if we’re gonna win him over, we’re gonna have to convince him we are too.” Nancy looked at us. “That, like him, we are true academic scholars.”

Robin was now holding Nancy’s music box in her hands, looking at Steve and me with a surprised look on her face. “Holy shit, there’s a little ballerina in here,” she whispered while I laughed, going next to her and also gushing over the little box.

“Academic scholars? They’re giving you academic scholar vibes? Yeah,” Steve protested.

Nancy sighed. “No, but…” she held a couple of dresses for us to see, the bright pink contrasting over our clothes as we both groan at the design. “They will.”

“Oh, please, tell me that you’re joking,”

“I gotta admit, it’s been a hot minute since I last wore a dress,” I said while I adjusted the collar of my neck, the bright color contrasting with my usual attire.

“Junior prom, right?” Nancy asked while she drove.

“Homecoming,” I answered. “We skipped junior prom,” I answered, smiling at the memory of the sleepover at Steve’s house, watching movies and eating pizza all night.

“Back to the Future was funnier when we were high,” Robin added, her voice tight at her attire. It didn’t take a genius to know she hated it. “Didn’t you have something more uncomfortable, Wheeler?” she complained from the passenger seat.

Nancy rolled her eyes at her.

“I really hope we get the answers we need,” I added, hoping to ease the tension. “Too many people have already suffered because of this,” I said, thinking back to Max, sitting on the chair with a concentrated look on her face, fear evident in her eyes.

“Ooh, let me guess, you want Eddie to walk free, don’t you?” Robin winked at me from her rearview mirror, momentarily forgetting her own discomfort.

I blushed in the backseat. “I did not say that, Ro,” I excused myself, not meeting her eyes.

“But you meant it,” she turned around in her seat to face me.

I scoffed. “Whatever,” even though I knew Robin would not let the conversation go.

“Admit it, you kinda like him,” she was pushing buttons.

I snapped at her. “That’s not it.”

“Then what is?” Robin kept going, her mischievous face never ceasing.

“I just… I don’t want Vecna destroying another life, okay?” I looked out the window at the speeding landscape, trying to avoid Robin’s interrogation.

She smiled at me. “Like Eddie's was?”

“Robin!” I yelled, trying to shut her up completely.

“What? I’m just saying, you were getting kinda cozy at the shed,” she threw her hands up as if feigning innocence.

Nancy intervened, her back tense with how much we were talking. “God, please, not Eddie Munson, I already told you, he’s a dealer!” she shot me a glare from the mirror, her hands gripping hardly the steering wheel.

“And he’s hot,” Robin winked at me again.

“Damnit, Robin!” I repeated, my words dying in my throat at the prospect of possibly outing her without her consent. 

“God, not for me, but for you? I mean, he’s totally your type,” Robin pulled at the neck of her blouse once again.

“I’m not having this conversation now, Ro,” I looked at Nancy, wishing to catch her eyes so she could help me put an end to it all.

“We totally are, unless you wanna hear me complain about these clothes,” she looked at me expectantly. She continued when I sighed in defeat. “So, you and Eddie?”

I shook my head. “There’s no ‘me and Eddie’ anymore,” I turned my head to the side once again, freezing as soon as I processed my words. 

“Wait, did you say ‘anymore?’” Nancy suddenly perched on her seat. Shit.

“…no?”

“You totally did,” Robin’s mouth hung open.

“Shut up.” Damnit.

“You did!” Robin yelled, gripping the backseat in excitement.

“Alright, I did!” I gave in, yelling back at her.

“Oh my fucking god!” Robin put her hands over her mouth, laughing in shock as she stared at me.

Even Nancy was constantly looking at me from the mirror, making me fear a possible crash.

“Shut up, Buckley,” I pointed my finger at her, trying to get her to calm down before she exploded.

“Spit it out, Henderson!” she copied my actions. 

“What are you not telling us?” Nancy asked, only calmer.

I sighed as I stared at them both, already regretting my mistake. “Eddie and I used to date.”

I was met with silence, both girls seemingly coordinated not to move a muscle at my confession.

“What?” they finally both said at the same time.

“What you’ve heard,” I answered.

“When?” Robin was ready for gossip.

“How?” Nancy asked, something that looked like disgust evident on her face.

“It was a couple of years ago, before Will, and El, and the Upside Down. Actually, I broke up with him the night we fought the Demogorgon at Jonathan’s house,” I added, looking at Nancy.

“Wait, is that why you were crying before we left the school?” Nancy asked, remorse lacing her words.

I nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Why did you break up with him?” Robin’s voice was now softer, barely a whisper.

I shrugged. “It wasn’t safe for him. I didn’t want him in this mess, it wasn’t fair to him,” my voice broke a little.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Nancy asked, her eyes reflecting the pain.

“Does Dustin know?” asked Robin, always one step ahead.

“We didn’t tell anybody, so no, not even Dustin knows about us. We were both going through our stuff and we just kinda… fell in together, you know? We’re not that different. And we kept each other company. And I was happy,” a single tear fell down my cheek, but I quickly brushed it away.

“And now what?” Robin asked sympathetically after a couple of seconds of silence.

“It was Eddie’s idea not to tell anybody after we broke up. He was being targeted by half the school and said he didn’t want me to run the same fate,” I smiled at the memory, of how his hair was growing out and the big ketchup stain in the middle of his Hellfire Club shirt.

“Shit, I… I’m sorry,” Robin said, taking my hand in hers and stroking it softly in comfort.

“I’m really sorry, too. I should’ve not judged him as I did,” Nancy too joined in the apology. 

“We won’t tell anybody, we promise,” Robin added, extending her pinky to me. “Pinky promise?” she offered.

I chuckled at her, feeling my chest fill with warmth at my friends. “Pinky promise.”

In a twist of events, Robin Buckley saved our asses by convincing Pennhurst Mental Hospital’s warden Anthony Hatch to give us ten minutes with Victor Creel. He walked us around the facilities, my blood growing cold at the sight of so many people trapped inside their own heads, living in the shell of who they once were. Entering one of the biggest wings of the building, soft classical music received us as we walked among the many patients dressed in white robes.

“This is one of our more popular areas. The listening room,” he motioned us inside, walking behind him. “We found that music has a particularly calming effect on the broken mind,” he whispered as he led us across the room. “The right song, particularly one which holds some personal meaning, can prove a salient stimulus. But there are those who are… beyond a cure.”

I shared a look with Nancy and Robin, the uneasiness of his words sending shivers down my spine as he exited the room via a different door and walked downstairs towards the basement.  

“Uh, Doctor Hatch, do you think it might be possible for us to speak to Victor alone?” both the doctor and the guard outside the restricted area looked at us in bewilderment. 

“Alone?” he asked.

“I… I think that we would just love the challenge of speaking with Victor without the safety net of an expert such as yourself. Then we could really rub it in Professor Bradley’s face when we get back to class…” I internally winced.

Dr. Hatch was shaking his head in confusion. “Professor Bradley? I don’t believe I know a Professor Bradley.”

“Brantley. She… she meant to say, Brantley,” I laughed as I looked at Robin with wide eyes, scared that we had just blown our cover.

“Didn’t I say Brantley? What did I say?” we nervously laughed at her, keeping up the charade. “Sorry, silly me. Words, letters,” Robin crossed her arms as the three of us stared at him with big smiles. “Guess I’m just nervous. I mean, excited,” she corrected herself. “So excited to speak with Victor. Preferably, as she said, alone?” 

We kept smiling at him, my heart beating rapidly at his silence.

At last, he smiled. “Yes, why not?” but even his smile held something. “You’ve caught me in a rebellious mood,” we all chuckled at him. “And there’s something rather urgent I need to check on anyway, so… sure.”

With a nod he walked up the stairs, not giving us a second glance. 

“Thank you so much, Dr. Hatch,” Robin started, followed by Nancy and me even well after he was out of sight.

The guard then opened the door to a dark corridor that pretty much resembled a prison. How fitting.

“Do not startle him. Do not touch him. Do not pass him anything. Stand five feet away from the bars at all times. Is that clear?” the guard said as he walked us to Victor Creel’s cell, pulling out his nightstick and hitting the bars to wake him up. 

“Yes sir,” we all answered, fear gripping at our edges.

“Victor,” the guard mocked the man. “Today’s your lucky day! You got visitors. Real pretty ones,” I glared at him at his words, wishing he would just leave so that I wouldn’t have to punch him in the face. The sound of metal being scratched drew our attention to the man sitting at the desk at the far end of the cell. “Must be in one of his moods,” the guard said as he walked away. “Have fun.”

We waited until he left to walk to the bars.

“Victor? My name is Nancy. Nancy Wheeler. And these are…” Nancy looked at us to follow her lead.

I said my name in a small voice.

“Robin Buckley.” 

“Um, we have some questions,” Nancy tried.

“I don’t talk to reporters; Hatch knows that,” the man spoke, yet he still didn’t turn to us. He kept scratching the desk.

“We’re not reporters,” I answered. “We’re here because… we believe you. And because we need your help.”

“Whatever killed your family, we think it’s back,” Robin continued. 

Victor Creel then turned to us, the sight of his scratched eyes forever imprinting itself into my head. 

Being arrested for breaking in into a top-security cell at an asylum was not on my bucket list.

“You’re not listening, our friend is in danger!” Nancy walked behind Doctor Hatch, pleading to let us go as we desperately explained our situation.

“Do you really expect me to believe anything you have to say at this point?” he led us once again through the listening room, the patients ignoring us as we hurried to the exit.

“It’s the truth!” I yelled at him, trying to keep up in Nancy’s ballerina flats.

“You are free to tell your sob story to the police,” the doctor said.

“Move along,” the same guard that took us to Victor’s cell pushed Robin forward when she stopped for a few seconds.

“Don’t touch me!” she put her arm away.

Clair de Lune was slowly playing in the background, the ballad contrasting to the anxiety we all three were experiencing. 

As we reached the gardens outside, Robin stood next to us, whispering rapidly into our ears.

“Victor said the night of the attack, everything went on in the house, but he made specific mention of music, he said music was playing. And then, when we asked him about the angel, he started to hum,” Robin spoke.

“Dream a Little Dream of Me,” I answered, finally recognizing the song he hummed. “Ella Fitzgerald.”

Nancy gasped. “The voice of an angel.”

“Yeah,” Robin spoke. “Hatch said that music can reach parts of the brain that words can’t. So maybe, that's the key, a lifeline.”

“A lifeline back to reality,” Nancy continued.

“It’s worth a shot,” I concluded, looking back at the two guards that followed us a few steps behind us, looking bored out of their minds. “I think we can beat them,” Nancy nodded at my words.

“What?” Robin panicked.

“To the car,” Nancy continued as well.

“Okay, I’m warning you right now, I have terrible coordination,” Robin kept panicking.

“I know, I’ve seen you in gym class,” I grinned at her, sheer determination on my face.

“Like, it took me six months longer to walk than all the other babies,” she complained, but Nancy was faster.

“Just follow our lead,” and with that, she bolted towards the parking lot. 

I ran after her, tugging Robin’s wrist so she wouldn’t stay behind.

“No, my God!”

We ran across the grass, dodging the patients and sprinting towards the car as we tried to outrun the guards. I saw one of Robin’s shoes fly next to my head, yet we couldn’t stop to retrieve it for we were running out of time. The guards were hot on our tails when we reached the car, practically jumping inside and blocking the doors as we sat down, Nancy quickly starting the car ignoring the guard on her window and hitting the glass for her to stop. 

“Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!” Robin exclaimed as we both looked back, with Nancy focused on driving away from the place.

“You really are a weird runner,” Nancy laughed in shock.

I chuckled, but the moment was interrupted when our walkie went off, an anguished-sounding Dustin yelling on the other side.

“Where the hell are you? This is a code red! I repeat, a code red!” I grabbed it and placed it on my ear.

“Dus, it’s me. We copy,” I answered.

“Holy shit, finally! Please, please tell me you guys have this figured out!” Dustin kept screaming into the radio.

I paled, knowing what was most likely going on. “Play her favorite song! Now!” I yelled into the radio, shaking a bit in place after Dustin’s response of approval, the line going dead.

We all stared at each other in silence, praying that we were right, and that Max could still be saved.

“Thanks for doing this, guys. It’ll be just a minute,” I said appreciatively as I closed the car door behind me.

“Be quick, we can’t be seen here,” Nancy pleaded, but there was softness in her eyes.

I nodded at her before turning around and walking towards the shed.

I knocked on the door a few times. “Eddie? It’s me. I’m coming in,” I said before opening the door, and finding Eddie on the other side, his hand stretched.

“Sorry, I was about to open the door for you,” he grinned, letting me step inside and closing the door behind me.

“Right, I should’ve called. Sorry, I don’t have much time, I…” Eddie interrupted me.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he looked me over, heat rising to my cheeks as I remembered I was still dressed in Nancy’s clothes.

“These aren’t mine, don’t worry. It’s a long story, too, I just… I just wanted to check you’re alright,” I said, my arms limp.

I didn’t know why I was so nervous, but after everything that had happened at Pennhurst, I didn’t want to go to sleep without knowing he was fine first.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m running low on supplies but I’ll live another day,” he joked.

I stared at him, my breath hitching in my throat. Out of impulse, I threw my hands around him, hiding my face in his chest as I closed my eyes, gripping his torso tightly.

“Woah, you okay there?” he reciprocated, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me even closer to him.

I nodded, but remained silent for a few minutes, simply enjoying his warmth and his company.

“Yeah, yeah, I just…” I pulled away from him, redness around my eyes. “I just really needed that,” I said. “You sure you’re okay?” I asked him, knowing my time was running out.

He nodded at me, his hands twirling the sleeves of his jacket. “I’m okay.”

With a nod and a sigh, I said goodbye, leaving a dumbfounded Eddie in the shed, as I felt my heart break a little more with each step toward Nancy’s car.

Next chapter

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #dustin henderson #steve harrington #eleven #eddie my beloved #stranger things #eddie munson fic #the freak and the jedi

[wildfluffyappeared]

Wrote a follow up to some Genshin Impact Ragbro angst I wrote a while back (you don’t have to read the other one first though this one is good to stand alone)

***

Kaeya took another swig directly from the bottle. It hadn’t been this bad in a while. And of course it had to be today.

Today. Diluc’s birthday. The anniversary of the death of the closest thing Kaeya could remember to a father.

Earlier that day, Kaeya had decided to join Outrider Amber on a routine patrol of the Mondstadt countryside, just to… get away from everything at home. He didn’t need Jean’s sad glances at him, making sure he was okay. He didn’t need anyone making a big deal over his feelings. And he certainly didn’t need to see Diluc.

About halfway through their patrol, Kaeya and Amber encountered a small patrol from Springvale. Upon hearing that the patrol was searching for a father and son who had gone missing, the two set to searching. And they found them.

A small group of hilichurls had attacked the small family. The father, while not an accomplished warrior by any means, had used his hunting bow to fight back. He actually held his own well enough to drive off the hilichurls, but the wounds he had sustained were still too much. When Kaeya and Amber found the scene, the father lay dead in the young son’s arms as the son cried silently.

Amber ran in to help, to comfort the child, anything. But Kaeya was paralyzed. The scene was familiar to him. Viscerally, uncomfortably familiar. He and Diluc had been much older when it happened, but… This was still like a mirror image for him. It took him back in a flash to the day it had happened, when he had arrived too late to help his father, to help his brother. To the night after, where the last family he had left had struck out against him, leaving him with a Vision and a broken heart.

Amber had noticed Kaeya’s distress, and in a moment of silent understanding, she had simply nodded at him, as if to say, “it’s okay if you need to go. I’ve got this.”

And now here he was. Kneeling in front of Crepus’s grave, on the Dawn Winery property, with a half empty bottle of dandelion wine clutched in his fist and tears streaming down his face. *Imagine how furious Diluc would be if he found me here,* Kaeya thought, before choking out a mirthless laugh. Who cared what Diluc thought? He couldn’t prevent Kaeya from mourning his father. Their father.

Kaeya lifted the bottle and drank again, deeply. And then he cried some more. And sooner or later, the time seemed to slip away, and the bottle seemed to empty, and all sense left Kaeya’s mind.

***

Kaeya felt his body being shaken roughly, and an anxious voice calling his name. He slowly cracked his eyes, internally wincing at the throbbing in his head.

As his eyes opened, Kaeya saw a blurry figure above him, a man in formal wear with long red hair tied back. Still disoriented from the alcohol, Kaeya laughed, and said, “Oh, good, it’s you, Diluc, help me out, Dad’s gonna be pissed if he finds out I’ve been drinking again—“

He was interrupted as Diluc threw him back to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. “What, is that supposed to be some kind of sick joke?” he asked, barely contained fury in his voice.

The shock of hitting the ground had jogged Kaeya’s memory, and he felt himself remembering when it was, what had happened. “Diluc… I’m sorry, okay? Today’s been hard, and I’ve been drinking, and I just…”

“Forgot?” Diluc scoffed. “How I wish I could forget what happened so easily.” He turned his back to Kaeya and started to walk away.

Kaeya bit his lip, unsure of what to say. “I could never really forget. Not really. Please believe that of me, at least. I’m just… not handling the memories very well this year, if I’m being honest.”

With his back still turned, Diluc clenched his fists in anger. Unable to hold it back anymore, he turned back. “Why is it I’m supposed to keep it together, to be strong, but YOU’RE allowed to fall apart like this? YOU’RE the one living up to everything Father wanted for us!” Diluc shouted.

Kaeya glared back, tears beginning to roll again down his cheeks. “Everything Father wanted, like his own son trying to kill me? I became a knight not to best you, but because Jean cared for me when you wouldn’t! I lost a father that night too, Diluc. Except for me, it was the second time.”

Diluc laughed and said with a bitter edge to his voice, “Oh, you’re referring to your first father, the one who left you in our midst as a Khaen’rian spy? And you came to me after the death of MY father to tell me all about how you were placed here to undermine us if Mondstadt ever went to war with—“

“SHUT UP!” Kaeya screamed. Between the ragged sobs that racked his body and tore at his throat, he choked out, “Diluc… how could you not understand? When I came to you that night. To tell you of my true origins. I wasn’t telling you I was there to betray you. I was telling you because I needed you to know I’d chosen Mondstadt, the family who took me in and raised me, over Khaen’riah, and the father who left me alone in Master Crepus’s grape fields. But I couldn’t get that out. Before I could even explain to you what my true feelings were, you, my brother, the ONE person in Mondstadt I trusted deeply enough to share my darkest secret. You turned your blade on me. And at that moment, I lost the last of the family I had. Can you fucking BLAME ME, Diluc? Can you blame me for running, for not trusting, for hiding every fucking part of myself again, for falling apart? And now I come to you, and I just want my brother back. And you tell me I have no reason to be upset? Diluc, please… I’m… too miserable to let pride stand in my way, and I’m too drunk to care. I’m begging you to just try to understand how I’m feeling…”

Diluc turned away from Kaeya. It was always hard for him to show vulnerability to anyone, even as a child, back when it was easier to trust Kaeya. But what he had just heard, from the man he once called his brother, shook him. How had he never stopped to consider how Kaeya had felt? Diluc, too, now felt tears rolling down his cheeks. “Kaeya. I’m…”

Diluc took a deep breath to steady himself. “It’s cold outside and you’ve been drinking. You don’t want to make yourself sick. Let’s head back to the winery. Adelinde will make your old room up. Let’s each take some time to rest and process everything, and… we can talk things out in the morning. Okay, Kaeya?”

Kaeya nodded. “Y-yeah. You’re right. This is too sudden. We both need time to process.”

As they walked back to the winery, Kaeya muttered, “Hey Diluc?… Thanks.”

Diluc simply grunted and rolled his eyes. But he had to turn his head away to hide a smile.

#Genshin impact #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr #ragbros #ragbro angst #my writing #angst #genshin kaeya #genshin diluc #tw alcohol #tw death

[kradogsrats]

I could not get the “Soren and Viren!Harrow work out together” idea out of my head, so here, have a BIG OL’ CUP of dad feelings, drenched in ALL MY TEARS.

--

The doctors had recommended Harrow exercise regularly. It will help restore your sense of ownership over your body, one had said. You’re used to doing things that he never did. The muscle memory isn’t there.

Neither, Harrow reflected for probably the hundredth time in just that hour, was the muscle. He had by no means ever thought of Viren as being frail or weak, but certainly no one would ever have called the man physical.

But the exercise was helping. Both to build the muscles, and with his other symptoms--he didn’t spend his first moments awake every morning convulsively dry-heaving, anymore. Looking at his hands no longer gave him vertigo. He could even think of them as his hands, his shoulders, his--well, he still had some work to do to get to face.

It wasn’t Viren’s face. He wasn’t sure anymore whose it was.

A drop of sweat landed on the ground in front of him. He lowered himself toward it, arms burning, then raised himself back up.

“Come on, King Harrow!” Soren, doing two, possibly three push-ups for every one of Harrow’s, was barely out of breath. “I want to see that nose touch the ground! You’ve got five more in you, I know it!”

The first few times Soren had joined him in the hazy pre-dawn light of the practice yard, they had both stayed silent. Harrow’s critical mistake had been that the first time Soren tentatively corrected his form, he’d been grateful. Apparently that had given Soren license to devise a multi-day full-body workout routine that Harrow knew was impeccable in its balance and intensity for building muscle and endurance.

Knowing that did not stop him from hating every second of it, however.

Harrow struggled through five more push-ups, with Soren’s encouragement or in spite of it. You’re the one who wants to be able to swing a sword again, he reminded himself grimly.

“Next up, it’s your favorite,” Soren said with a sing-song voice, springing lightly to his feet. Harrow also stood, but with significantly more effort and not a little reluctance. He would rather have stayed lying face-down on the ground.

Soren beamed at him. “Squats! Let’s go!”

Harrow sighed heavily, but assumed the starting position--feet spread, hands raised to his head.

Legs had been a frustration from the start. The old injury dealt by Thunder had never seemed to impede Viren much, and Harrow had always assumed he carried the elegant staff everywhere for show--then he had found himself barely able walk without assistance. Even now, his gait felt unnatural, and the muscles still cramped at odd times, locking the knee and rendering the entire limb useless.

Building up to the point of being able to do squats had been long and hard-earned, with the reward of... more squats. But the strengthened muscles helped with both preventing pain and keeping his balance reliable, so it was worth it. Probably.

Soren was already moving, working up and down on only one leg with the other held straight in front of him. Harrow sighed again.

His first few squats were fine. Then his leg abruptly seized and dropped out from under him.

He landed hard, knocking the wind out of himself. Before, he could have rolled, or at least been able to properly break the fall. Now, he had to just lie there and wheeze for a moment.

“Dad!” Soren cried. He was at Harrow’s side immediately. “Are you okay?”

He sat up slowly, with Soren’s concerned support. The leg was still locked, muscles painfully knotted and unresponsive. Wonderful.

“Here, hang on,” Soren said. “This will help.” He lowered Harrow back until he was resting on his elbows. Then, starting with the calf, he began to slowly work it with his hands, alternating brisk squeezes and pressing deep circles with his thumbs.

Harrow hissed at the sensation of muscles being coaxed to un-knot, letting his head fall back to face the slowly lightening sky.

“Soren,” he said, “You know I’m not--”

“Yeah,” Soren interrupted quietly. “Sorry. It just... slipped out.”

“It’s all right. I miss him, too.”

He wanted to say more. I’m sorry. He should be here, instead. It was supposed to be me. I failed. Empty words that sought comfort, but brought none. All that he could do was add this to the weight of his sins and carry on.

Soren silently worked his way up the leg, going more slowly as the muscles got larger. He paid extra attention around the site of the original wound, circling it thoroughly with touches that began gentle and built until Harrow grunted with pain through his gritted teeth.

“Did you do this for him?” Harrow asked, closing his eyes against a particularly vicious assault from Soren’s thumbs.

“No.” Soren snorted a mirthless laugh. “That’s why I learned it, I guess--but he never let me.”

His hands stilled. “I loved my dad,” he said, finally. “How could I not, right? But I didn’t--I didn’t really like him very much.”

Harrow raised his head to look at him. “He was a difficult man to like,” he acknowledged.

“And,” Soren swallowed and looked away. “I know he didn’t like me.”

Harrow didn’t know what to say to that. Could he deny it--tell Soren that of course Viren had loved him completely, fiercely, the way he deserved, but couldn’t show it? Was it his place to deny it?

Would it even be the truth?

Soren returned to massaging his calf, working back down to finish at the ankle. “What I’m saying is that--that Callum and Ezran are very lucky to have you,” he said. “And I’m happy that they still do.”

He stood, extending his hand down to Harrow. Harrow looked up at him, silhouetted against the morning sky--the sun would creep over the castle walls, soon--and took it, letting Soren help him upright. Once on his feet again, he didn’t release Soren’s hand, instead pulling him into a tight hug.

“Your dad didn’t know what he was missing,” he said quietly. “I wish he’d had the chance to find out.”

Soren, who had stiffened when Harrow embraced him, slowly relaxed. Then he buried his face in Harrow’s shoulder and hugged back.

They stayed that way for a long moment, Harrow releasing the hug only when Soren did. He kept one hand on Soren’s shoulder for balance as he shook out his leg and pretended not to see him swipe a hand across his eyes. “Thank you,” he said when the moment had passed, indicating his leg as he flexed his knee. “It feels good as new.”

Soren cracked a smile. “Oh, does that mean I don’t have to go easy on you tomorrow, then?”

Harrow groaned. “Never mind, I take it back. You’re awful.”

The sun spilled down into the practice yard, warm and dazzling. “I know,” Soren laughed. “The worst.”

#the dragon prince #harrow #soren #no editing we cry like men #OH NO I MADE MYSELF REAL SAD #DID NOT THINK THIS THROUGH #kradogsfic #ouroboros au

[madcatdaderpydrawer-blog]

Solstaire’s used to it, just like Clipsy. And Lunara fortunately did not see. Things would’ve gone much worse if he’d seen. I did, actually, mean physically poking him as well as verbally. Peanut’s getting his tummy poked while Lunara tries to dig into his trauma. The ray won’t be perfect, because it’s made of scraps, but it’s either that or Lunara trying to fix it. And Lunara fixing it is a bad idea.

Poor Piper, having to explain the actual serial killers in the sewer. And the fact that there’s a new Bloodmoon under construction in there. And then Pyroclas, scoops him with all four arms and nuzzles him mid-explanation, purring loudly. It looks up at them and announces “You weren’t Moon’s. Ours now. It’s free family!” While rubbing its cheek against Piper’s face like a cat.

The MR’s are just… horrified. Their first experience with other dimensions, and it’s learning about Clipsy’s dimensions. Moon, Eclipse, KC, and Solar Flare scramble to try and figure out how to blacklist dimensions. Earth and Lunar hug them and tell them they’re safe now. Bloodmoon want to fight the bad Moon. And Sun offers to take Clipsy to P&S to get that ray fixed.

Toddlunar will be calling Peanut “Bubba” by dawn. The other kids will follow suit by the end of the week. Congrats to Peanut for becoming a big brother.

Torp tells Clipsy that if he wants, he can do whatever to the security. It’s one of Moon’s old bunkers, so it should already have some nasty defenses. He just needs to patch him and Peanut into the system.

Antumbra pouts. He’ll still be a bitch to Clipsy, but he won’t go for the throat anymore. Peanut gets much more pleasant treatment, but Antumbra’s default is sarcastic bastard.

“Buddy, as someone who’s died before, been betrayed before, been tortured before, and been Moon before, and as someone who actually goes to *honk*ing therapy, I can tell you, with certainty, that you are very traumatized. Just take the *honk*ing bed.”

Clipsy is snickering in the background while Peanut struggles hard not to laugh from the repeated tummy pokes. XD trying to answer whatever questions he’s asking about his past while also barely preventing himself from bursting into giggles. It’s barely working too, because it’s clear he’s trying to stifle his giggles. He is not hiding his ticklish ness well.

Piper pats Pyroclasm on the head as best as he can, explaining that it likes to collect children from people who don’t seem to deserve/want them. And that it’s what happened to him as well.

Peanut gives him a “I told you so” look and tells Clipsy that he knew that would freak them out and he just grumbles that he didn’t mean to. He didn’t realize it sounded so bad when he thought it up in his head, he just wanted them to be informed!

Oh he’d absolutely love being called big brother!! He’s used to being the younger sibling so being the older one for once would be so exciting!

Clipsy will definitely take up his offer to check the security, if not just to ease his own paranoia. He knows if it’s one of moons bunkers it’s likely pretty secure but better safe than sorry.

Peanut finds the snarky bastard personality slightly amusing, Clipsy can tolerate it. His default is usually on passive aggressive dick with strangers so he gets it.

So much of that statement would leave them very confused as to what the fuck happened in this dimension. But they can unpack all that later, resting is definitely the priority

#sams au #trapped forever au #good tf eclipse #crossover stuff

[antics-pedantic]

RALLY CO. #9: THE ASHES OF ALDRAGAR

Last time, on Rally Co….

          The crime-lord sorcerer Othulok, nemesis of world-renowned occult detective Solomon Callahan, attacked the Rally Co. team directly at home with help from the assassins Giligan Diligent and Othulok’s own unwilling thrall, known only as ‘The Wrap.’ When Tycho and Esme struggled against the assassins, Solomon used deadly magic—not unlike those of Othulok’s to save them. In the process, revealing that he in fact was once a follower of Othulok himself!

          With assistance from Blockhouse the construct and vigilante treasure-hunter The Junker, Rally Co. was able to repel the attack. Now, the group races to deprive Othulok from the secrets of the ancients, to prevent him from conquering the world.

X

          Some years prior…

          The antechamber was filled with an eerie glow, from bowl torches atop tall golden stands. There were people here, worshipping: Wearing ancient-styled garb over their modern finery. Just then, a wholly separate group would burst in: Two prominent figures taking the charge included a shorter man with messy reddish hair and a full beard, clad in a wrinkled suit with a bow tie and white labcoat, red in the face with consternation. And accompanying him was a Pakistani woman drawing a service revolver, fending off one of the cultist minions. In the process, an INTERPOL-sanctioned special task force badge she wore on her jacket’s front pocket was damaged, just barely deflecting a dagger.

          “It’s over!” exclaimed the youthful Inspector Malika Basra. “We’ve finally tracked you down. A hundred of your followers couldn’t stop us now!”

          A figure in a cloak, and a Roman-style helmet stood up from his throne overlooking the ceremony area in the center. The stone sarcophagus lay there, being adorned with offerings and marks of power in codes even the most seasoned linguist would be hard-pressed to find commonality with in all known languages.

          “And what may I ask, do you think Rally Co. could possibly do now? You’ve only turned the tide so many times at the dawn of this hideous war that plagues the continents. If you should even stand a chance—”

          “IF!” howled Malika’s companion, one Professor George Edward Gallagher. “That ‘if’ sir, is the highest degree offensive! For that, I’ll feed ye the plume off yer helmet!”

          The leader of the secret society sneered, before rising to face them: He removed his helmet, revealing a dark brown mane with a grey streak through the middle, and eyes for whom the surrounding skin showed off coal-black veins, from improperly practiced necromancy. Spells stolen from various corners of the globe.

          “You troglodytes. There is a new world on the way. One where the things that live in hallowed lore and darkness will no longer tolerate mankind’s arrogance!” thundered the mysterious leader, as he extended his free hand and used it to gather some mystical power. “I’ve simply leapt forward before I could be struck down as well.”

          He fired lightning from his fingertips to stave off the adventurers and investigators that came to challenge him, before directing another arc at the sarcophagus.

          “And I, Solomon Callahan, the Acolyte Absolute shall wield the very powers of the ancients to do so! I will succeed the dread shame, Othulok!”

X

          The airplane reached Switzerland by dark. Felix Basra pinched her russet-brown nose ridge, wishing she could deal with the jet lag enough to properly call her aunt Malika.

          “Should have taken some milk of magnesia like I suggested. I never board an aeroplane without one! Your friend was much wiser--” proclaimed Malika. Felix listened to her go on for a while, fretting over every little thing. “--And your girl Georgia keeps insisting on staying with me until you return, you know.”

          “Yes, Malika auntie.” sighed Felix. “I’ll let her know in just a moment not to heckle you too badly: You know as well as I do she just wants to make a good impression. No problems with your health? I hope you’re still exercising.”

          “Bah! For what? The most excitement I have anymore is telling old stories to dime novelists. I don’t think they really know I change up the details each time so they argue with one another afterwards.”

          Felix burst out laughing. She was liable to hurt her sides.

          “That is devious!”

          “Nothing less!”

          But then, there was silence. It had not been very long since the sorcerer crime lord known as the Golden Shadow had mounted an attack on Rally Co.’s base of operations—their home. And in the process, they also revealed a shocking secret of the man who owned the estate, and served as their mentor: Solomon Callahan.

          “How are you all doing, my little snoop?”

          “Don’t call me that.” said Felix. Normally she loved when Malika called her that, but this hardly felt like the time for jokes. “Solomon called you before we left, didn’t he?”

          “… He told me everything. Hung up before I could tell him to wait up for me. And now here you are, off to the Alps.”

          “How?”

          “How what, child?”

          “How did he… he followed the teachings of our greatest enemy. How the devil can you bring someone like that into the fold?”

          There was silence again. Though this time it was diffused by a low hum.

          “We deathly needed someone who knew magic, ESP, weird things no ordinary soul had mastered. But past that he was a terrible headache to work with, in those early days. The only thing that really kept us together was the fact that everyone was doomed unless we kept at it. Then he cleaned up, and then… well. We trusted him to be a teacher of all things.”

          “Your own children, we became his students.”

          “Yes. Oh—here’s Georgia.”

          Before Felix could say anything else, her aunt passed the phone off to her sweetheart.

          “Malika told me some of what’s going on. It seems a bit hasty, but… you’ll be alright? I haven’t even had the chance to meet your new friends yet, you’ve all just been so busy with your modern-day round table and your chivalrous ways.”

          Felix chuckled.

          “You make it sound so romantic.”

          “That’s the job, isn’t it? Being in love and all.”

          “Of course. I’ll phone again after we’re settled in, before we make the climb.”

          Felix said her goodbyes. The first up was a short Irishman, currently weaponizing his grouchiness into resolve: His was a messy head of hair with full sideburns on his cheeks, that self-proclaimed ‘muscle’ of the group as well as its resident cryptozoologist, Tycho Gallagher.

          “The others?”

          Tycho nodded aside: A taller woman with umber-toned skin was fidgeting—usually cheery, bio-chemist Esmerelda Broughton was currently in desperate need of a good coffee blend. She was accompanied by a shorter figure whose sleepless eyes were a more common occurrence compared to Esme’s jet lag woes, the psychic Katrina Kafka.

          “And I says ye should have gotten yer own milk of magnesia!” said Tycho, waving a blue bottle where he kept the relieving drug that helped settle his stomach during the flight.

          “Woe!” scoffed Esme. “As I have to share a laboratory and travels with you—you miserable little combination of an orangutan and an emperor penguin!”

          Usually, Felix and the others would eventually break up the rivalry’s bickering. But this time, Rally Co. was too overwhelmed with the goal ahead. Katrina gestured to Felix, who shared with her some of the local currency so that she might purchase more medicine, water bottles, whatever they needed to ease the difficulty of travel this time. With that done, the group’s serious-minded leader stepped aside to wait next to an old-fashioned telephone booth, one in a row. There were also a couple of teletype computer terminals for public use among the booths as well, uses ranging anywhere from a mere digital typewriter to transferring essential data over long range, once the terminal was rented out. Or simply for a brief amusement, if any pinball machines or vigor testers were not available.

          “Updates.”

          Solomon Callahan, esteemed occult detective these days—formerly a dread magician, pulled out a notepad with which he copied some details.

          “The ruins of a castle in the mountain terrain. Snowcapped… drenched in rumors.”

          “Ghost stories as well, no doubt.”

          Solomon didn’t much enjoy this. Felix was usually more enthusiastic to discuss matters with him pertaining to their latest mystery or adventure as the Rally Co. group. But the circumstances of their last epic had created a considerable rift. The group had always known Solomon to be a practitioner of magic. But recently they had discovered that he commanded deadly powers similar to those of their collective nemesis, the immortal crime lord, Othulok.

          “What significance is our destination, Callahan?” said Felix, tilting her head. “Or should I say Acolyte Absolute? Self-styled enemy of the modern world, and all.”

          Solomon looked aside to see if anyone heard that, before sighing.

          “Felix. The matter at hand: I have the utmost certainty from my colleagues in academia that the late Lord Aldragar Covington’s personal collection housed ancient relics, and rudimentary machinations salvaged from the darkest corners of the Earth.”

          “What in particular do you suppose the Golden Shadow—Othulok, wishes to acquire from there?”

          “A rare ore, Felix. My colleagues called it by a certain name: Orichalcum.”

          He looked to Esme, beckoning her over. Not only did she have a background as a prodigious chemist, but it was under Solomon’s tutelage that they studied findings pertaining to the alchemists of old.

          “That’s the stuff.” said Esme with a nod. “They say if there ever was an ancient locale like all that science fiction about Atlantis, they had a few tricks like that. Orichalcum is supposed to be a miracle metal. You could send heat or an electric current through it, and even a small amount could return the force multiplied. How they refined any of the ore is beyond me at the moment. But if anyone does have the stuff…”

          “It would be dangerous. Message received.” said Felix with a nod. “Let’s get our things at the hotel and move as soon as possible. If such a thing exists, it cannot be allowed into the hands of that sorcerer, devil dog that he is.”

          Felix waved to Tycho and Katrina, who were gathering up suitcases.

          “Tycho, my friend?” said Katrina, holding a case close, and dragging a couple of others along with her telekinesis. “Might I ask you something troubling? Before we are to be in earshot of the others again.”

          Tycho could see Esme and Solomon going to hail a taxi outside. The stalwart cryptozoologist nodded to the girl.

          “When you saw Monsieur Callahan use his magicks… what was it like?”

          Tycho scratched his head. Suddenly he regretted agreeing. But only halfway: He cared too much for his friends not to try.

          “Thing of it is sister, that I’ve grown up treading the grasses of the wilderness in all sorts’er places with dear old ma and pa. In them wilds I got a pretty good sense for determining danger, as animals often give warning. And mortal-folk… well, folk react some kinda way to the defeatin’ of an enemy. That, and one other thing.”

          Tycho performed a sort of dramatized hypnotic gesture, as a stage illusionist might gesture at a box where they pretended to saw their assistant in half.

          “The magic Solomon used before that was always pretty tame-like. Our pal Ribeye Renzo and even that weirdo The Wrap didn’t have nothin’ that potent. The mystic arts just aren’t practiced like they used to… it’s only been against Othulok he’s really gone all out. Ye didn’t hear me complaining, fightin’ fire with fire an’ all. But when he damn near killed that assassin, Giligan Diligent, it was like he’d come back to his hometown to settle accounts with fellers what crossed him.”

          Katrina looked forlorn. Tycho nudged her.

          “Chin up, will ya?”

          Katrina sniffled. “Does it not bother you?”

          “Yeah, it bothers me plenty!” huffed Tycho. “But I’m gonna wait an’ see for a while. Just like I did when Felix ran off to try to get revenge on her own. Or when you went all out with your ESP. And of course, whenever yers truly has to rip some joker a new one for callin’ him funny names. Tumultuous is practically our middle name!”

          She finally chuckled. Tycho offered a snicker of his own, as they made for the doors to the street outside.

X

          The trek up the mountains was unpleasant for all. The whole of Rally Co. were bundled up in heavy winterwear, boots with ice cleats and thick parka jackets with face masks and goggles. Felix and Tycho had climbing axes and gear if they needed to traverse the troublesome terrain. The early morning sunlight shined on the white snow, making everything terribly bright. At least until they arrived at the castle, majority of the estate being in ruins.

          Solomon went up to the entrance arch, where one of the doors had fallen and biting winds could enter at night. Entire sections of the walls had their bricks blasted apart. Felix and Esme took to points of impact for a forensic examination. Tycho was lighting a fire in a spot where they could set down some of their things. Katrina was feeling around with her sixth sense, telepathically probing for any presence living or dead. Some hidden trap that might prove fatal if they accidentally activated a pressure plate or other mechanism. And course most importantly, if there were any remaining samples of the orichalcum and the strange machinery that utilized it. She was so intent on her goal, Katrina wandered off into the darkness.

          There, she found a small bead. She levitated it towards her hand with telekinesis, not touching it with her hand until she knew it was safe. Unfortunately, as the decaying hands reaching out from the shadows indicated, it was not safe whatsoever.

          She did everything she could to keep the fright she felt inside. The cold didn’t help at all. And in a split-second she immediately launched the undead assailant into the wall with a sickening ‘SPLAT!’ that seemed to echo throughout the hall. She readied herself in the event of others, and she did see two more of these ghoulish servants sauntering around. Mindlessly, one more outwardly rotten than the other. It was as if whatever directed them was no longer all there.

          Seeing that the threat was low, Katrina hurried back to look for the others. She’d startled Tycho just as he was putting on some coffee, the liquid nearly sloshing out of the aluminum pot as he slapped it aside.

          “KATRINA!” howled Tycho, catching the rubber gripped handle with his opposite hand, then nursing the slapping palm that had briefly swatted at the heated metal portion. “What the devil are ye doing, sister?!”

          “I would not be hurried if it wasn’t important, Tycho!”

          The others hurried back over to listen as well. Katrina pointed back to the direction she went investigating, and the entire group went together. Tycho and Esme kept themselves trained on the two undead that remained, while Felix and Solomon examined the body of the one Katrina had squashed. Still, they found nothing there or around the castle to work with. Until Felix beckoned for Katrina to provide the small bead she had acquired. Stepping past Esme and Tycho, she held out her hand, and the ghoulish servants seemed to respond to the bead, as though it were of some importance.

          “A miniscule little thing like this bead can’t be much on its own, can it?” said Felix to herself, while Tycho shoved off one of the roaming undead. It was at that point that the aspiring detective tossed the bead with some force. The ghoulish servants hurried to catch it, and when it landed, a small shockwave knocked them off their feet.

          “The orichalcum!” said Solomon, preparing a small leather pouch from within his coat to contain the bead. “Yes, it makes sense: I recall a study suggesting that the ancients carried it in this smaller form.”

          “As what, some kinda funny money?” said Tycho. Esme just sneered at him.

          “Hardly! Think of it, my hirsute little colleague: The orichalcum is easier to carry this way. You could gather several beads, but their worth is too great to distribute like coins. I believe that they carried these around to activate their mechanisms.”

          “Like what? Like our tellerphones and such?” mused Tycho, half-mockingly.

          “Mm. Perhaps more in the realm of secure doors, like on a vault for example. They could use a heavier door because they could afford the energy to move such a thing around. In regards to other technologies, let’s keep it strictly to theory, shall we?”

          “It ought t’make discovering they’ve got damnable death rays layin’ about all the more pleasant!”

          Solomon took the bead at last, once Esme was finished looking it over. Of course, when they returned, they found their campfire had been put out: Behind the smoke was a robed figure. Collectively, everyone seemed to notice two boar-like tusks sticking out of his mouth, and it caused the whole Rally Co. group to prepare for battle. All save for Solomon Callahan.

          “Lord Aldragar. I thought you had died.”

          The boar-like tusks retracted, and the castle master lowered his hood. He was even paler than Katrina, his hair maintained save for a few stray strands that would not stay put. Like the very image of an old time English gentleman, if frayed at the edges.

          “This… is no deception? Is that you, acolyte?”

          Solomon frowned at the name, while the Rally Co. team all looked over to their mentor. Yet another secret of his that had come to light.

          “Everyone. I would like to introduce to you Lord Aldragar Covington. Another mastermind of ill-intentions. A vampire.”

          Tycho’s eyes widened.

          “He gets near me with them tusks, I’ll do some amateur dentistry!”

          But the vampire lord simply laughed.

          “You have nothing to fear from me. I am quenched at this time. But I see you have found some of my orichalcum.”

          He beckoned aside with one arm with the theatrical flair of a jester, before bringing his hand around to take back the bead. Felix looked at it one last time, and offered the orichalcum back, despite the others seeming apprehensive.

          “Wotcha do that for?!” whispered Tycho.

          “He knows Solomon. That gives us an ‘in’ to negotiate. Besides: you saw his undead. The pitiful shambling things. Even as a vampire, I’m confident we could all take him on.”

          Then, she turned to look at Solomon.

          “And I’ll do the talking.” said the older man, nodding and moving to catch up with Lord Aldragar. “Stick together, everyone.”

X

          Now, Rally Co. was in a great dining hall not yet ruined like the rest of the castle. They were able to light a main fireplace. They hesitated to put on any sleeping bags, but Tycho was back to brewing coffee and using provisions. What little food could be offered by Lord Aldragar was under severe scrutiny by Esme, for willful poisons and forgetten mold.

          But Aldragar himself was at the head of the table, and his laughing was hearty.

          “Remarkable development!” he rasped, a cough taking him. For a moment, some of the youth he’d regained seemed to depart his body, but no thirst was apparent. His vampiric physiology was no longer functioning neatly, not after the strife he’d put himself through in pursuing victims. “You mean to tell me, acolyte, that you made a foe of the Golden Shadow? And you’ve gone on to join his enemies in Rally Co.?”

          “What’s more, Lord Aldragar…” said Solomon, leaning in his seat, and pointing an enthusiastic finger. “I taught each of Rally Co.’s latest successors. Everyone here has been a student of mine in a different field.”

          A sentiment not gladly echoed. There were quiet nods and shrugs that lacked commitment.

          “In any case, Callahan: Revel! You have been accepted by these mortals, you’ve taken Othulok’s own magic to use against him. Glory finds its way to your house, and mankind will soon realize it does not stand atop the food chain.”

          “And what does that mean, exactly?” said Felix, interjecting.

          “I mean no offense!” said Aldragar. “But your larger world is content to disregard the old myths. In some cases, they have been driven away crudely… such as your Blockhouse. He was not always treated with such welcoming.”

          “Yeah? An’ why’s that?!” spat Tycho.

          Solomon set a hand on Tycho’s shoulder and spoke:

          “There is no good reason, my boy. There are those who favor their control too greatly to relinquish the reins willingly. As it is, the world can barely treat its own, more ordinary people with dignity. Even the most minute difference can be blown out of proportion into an aberration.”

          And then Aldragar laughed hoarsely.

“I am content to try and make my own unspoken kingdom here in Europe, over all the secret things which live here… but your Solomon Callahan however, sought to usher an era of enlightenment. By any means necessary.”

          Katrina could not help but feel something awful in herself. Solomon was teaching her to safely harness her abilities. She wondered if he might have demanded she wield them against humanity. She wondered if the others had similar concerns: Felix could have been a great hunter of dissidents, Esme could use her chemistry knowledge to form the alchemy of war, and Tycho’s zoology might have been put towards taming and commanding cryptid creatures, the way the Golden Shadow directed them towards malice, but without expending magic.

          “Blazes to that!” howled Tycho, shaking a fist. “A thousand thundering typhoons! But he didn’t. He joined up with Rally Co. an’ changed directions fast-like!”

          Esme stepped up beside the loyal cryptozoologist, and crossed her arms. Only adjusting to fix her hair, to look as refined as possible.

          “What my colleague said. It would have been better received if we’d heard this sooner. But he’s sort of our expert on the magic… not many of those going around at the moment. We’ll take what we can get until Othulok is put to rest once and for all.”

          Felix looked to Katrina. Katrina looked back. And while they couldn’t bring themselves to say much, they both nodded and stood by their friends. And perhaps, some small part of them would not abandon Solomon altogether, provided he made it up to his charges this way. Each and every one of them. Solomon himself continued to say little: he did not want to push his luck. But he felt something like a small hope just then.

          Lord Aldragar watched the entire display for a moment, before taking up a goblet and gulping down half the contents all at once.

          “A shame I never started a coven.” said Aldragar. “What prowess and loyalty I might have cultivated if you are any example… but no sense dwelling on what could have been. I trust after resting fully, you’ll wish to see my machinations? Destroy my hard work?”

          “Would you stop us?” said Felix. Her Jutte was a blunt weapon, but if she had to run it forcibly through his heart like a stake, she was prepared to do so. But Aldragar shook his head.

          “Before I might have. Now my dreams of overcoming the vampire’s weaknesses are doomed! However, if throwing it all aside might infuriate Othulok, I say bring ruination to all that I have left!”

          And he cackled, before entering a violent coughing fit.

X

          There were boots marching in the snow. To every uniformed man, a rifle or other armament. Armored cars on tank treads instead of tires, being navigated up, with troops on standby to assist the journey of their support vehicle. At the helm of the operation was a commanding officer in a cap with a silver piece pinned to the front, fashioned in the shape of an albatross. His uniform was newer than that of his troops, signifying his connection to a small, but rapidly expanding nation-state.

          “The damnable bloodsucker is ours, Over-Commander Sallow.” laughed a subordinate officer, his shaky hands attempting to light a cigar. “He should have taken your offer… first the visit, then the letter. He is a fool twice over—he would have a death wish to refuse you now.”

          Over-Commander Sallow just made a disgusted sound.

          “I recall your file, Lars. You received commendations for quelling a would-be resistance cell with little in the way of casualties.”

          The officer called Lars just grinned.

          “But of course, sir.”

          Sallow pulled off a glove from Lars’s hand, stealing away his cigar with similar dexterity, and bringing it down quickly, before halting just over the back of Lars’s hand where the mere drop of ashes was enough to strike fear into him.

          “I know not your methodology for accomplishing that. But I challenge you to demonstrate superior bravery for your country! Where it may be *seen,* yes?”

          “What the hell is wrong with you, Over-Commander?! I am loyal! Always loyal.”

          “Always?”

          “Yes, always!”

          Sallow just sneered, and offered a half-hearted salute. But when Lars attempted to provide the same, he was greeted with the gleam of a knife halfway out of its sheath. The silver blade gleamed in the moonlight.

          “Glory to Arkavalia.” said Sallow, as if providing instruction to a child, before shuffling off.

          “*Ulp*… Glory. To Arkavalia.”

X

          Katrina perked up. She nudged Solomon while he pored over the machinery Aldragar had introduced to them to offer notice as to her precognitive flash just now.

          “Soldiers upfront.” said Katrina. “Heavily armed at that!”

          Tycho scowled. Aldragar was not far off.

          “What is the meaning of this?” said Solomon. “You haven’t sold us out, have you?!”

          “Silence, Acolyte!” spat Aldragar “It is the Arkavalians. After my own downfall and their rise to power, they have heckled me for my secrets. I’ve few ghouls left to stave them off within the castle walls.”

          Felix beckoned for the others to join her.

          “If they do not know this yet, then these men might still be susceptible to doubt. Quickly!”

          Everyone hurried upstairs and lined up to look at the troops from overhead. Felix had both her revolver and impellet gun out, trying to decide which one to expend first, and what tactics the group could take.

          “Really makes a feller wish Blockhouse was here, huh?” said Tycho.

          “Undoubtedly, my hirsute colleague.” said Esme.

          Felix had a feeling if they lingered too long, the Arkavalian forces would call their bluff. Esme could probably rig up some explosives to lob from their vantage point. Tycho preferred close range, perhaps if they made it into the building, he could perform an ambush. Solomon and Aldragar had magic and vampiric powers, but they could still be cut down by weapons if they weren’t careful.

          Over-Commander Sallow on the other hand, had time and resources with which to pour continuous pressure onto Aldragar’s estate. He would proceed to point forward, gesturing for Lars to communicate.

          “By will of Arkavalia itself, our detachment demands your audience, Lord Aldragar Covington! You have the opportunity to utilize your unique gifts in service of a glorious new homeland!”

          Aldragar spat at Lars’s feet. Felix would be the one to speak back.

          “His response seems unanimous, no?”

          Lars perked up.

          “Who the devil are you?!”

          “The woman telling you to turn around. Aldragar and his ghouls do not fight alone.”

          Lars looked back at Sallow, who tilted his head to look down on Lars.

          “I want an armored truck to ram into the front doors at once! All troops, ready your weapons for those rotting saps!” exclaimed the red-faced Lars, who turned around to address the Rally Co. group, and Lord Aldragar. “Your lacking welcome will be your undoing, leech! And those young degenerates!”

          “You’ll dive deeper through hell than I, pig-dog!” exclaimed Aldragar. It was at that point one of the armored vehicles began advancing, while a hail of gunfire covered it. The Rally Co. team kept their heads down, Felix closing her hand into a fist and opening it again to gesture for explosives, for which Esme was all too eager to provide: In Arcadia, the city the group considered home, she was often cautious with the output of her test tube grenades. Still the case with this mountainous terrain, but considering the uneven odds on which they fought, she took on the task of cobbling together something potent enough to disable the armored trucks.

          “HI-HO SILVER!!”

          Esme tossed a test tube grenade down at the oncoming vehicle, halting it momentarily. Felix fired on some men trying to feed a belt of ammunition to a machine gun encampment. The second armored truck approaching moved as quickly as it could, this time a gunner emerged from a hatch on the roof, taking aim with a rifle. Esme’s next toss was thrown off from landing within the hatch, as the tube rolled along the roof near the hatch instead. The gunner had ample time to leap out as the vehicle collided with the front doors, the automobile motor whining with stress in its ongoing attempt to break inside. Felix directed Tycho to move ahead of the group.

          “It won’t be long before they’re inside. Aldragar, you go with my man Tycho and try to thin the ranks. We’ll meet you at your laboratory.”

          Aldragar did not enjoy taking orders, even reasonably measured ones such as this. His pride was wounded enough by mortals before. From the academics he invited into his home to feast upon before he used the secrets of the ancients to overcome the weaknesses of the vampire, to the Arkavalian fascists that harassed him endlessly. But with the provision that they would make Othulok suffer, he acquiesced to Felix’s word.

          “So be it. At least I will go out with the glory of battle!” said Aldragar, taking on his tusk-like fangs. Tycho fished through his things for a large knife he sometimes wielded while on excursions through the wilderness.

          “Save some for me, ya wiseguy!” bellowed Tycho, pointing at Aldragar with the tip of his blade. “I ain’t no kinda pushover in matters of stompin’ goose-stepping goons!”

          Aldragar lead the way towards a hidden passage, Tycho scurrying after. The Arkavalians had breached the front door, and began sending squads to comb through the halls. Gunfire ripping through the frigid night as they fought against what few ghouls remained. The two fighters burst from the shade and into the attacking force, picking them off before hurrying to another area of the castle to continue their guerilla warfare. Tycho plunged his dagger with a handle-twisting depth, and Aldragar did likewise with his tusk-fangs to the nearest vein, before swiping his nails across the torso to split the body apart. Rinse, and repeat.

          Solomon tackled into a trooper on his way past Tycho and Aldragar. Lars was about to face him, but Sallow put a vise-grip on his subordinate’s shoulder.

          “The orichalcum and the machines, Lars. I will address the world-famous occult detective.”

          “Yessir!”

          There was some relief that Lars did not have to face the man himself. Sallow on the other hand seemed to savor the encounter. It was as though he had something: any seasoned adventurer knew an ordinary man would not have such confidence without the proverbial ‘ace-in-the-hole’ to guarantee their survival. But try as he might, Solomon’s ESP could not probe Sallow right away.

          “You’re probably wondering why your powers of mind, or perhaps magic now fails you, is that right good sir Callahan?”

          Solomon brandished the small sword blade hidden within his silver-headed cane, and swiped at Sallow. Every time he approached, he couldn’t glean anything from his thoughts, or precognitively. He even tried a spell to melt the rubber soles of Sallow’s boots onto the stone floor, and only received a brief puff of smoke.

          “Yes! I have long desired to put you pitiful believers to death.” exclaimed Sallow. “I am without blessings or curses, Callahan! None of the gods will have me in their domain. Hell’s devils loathe my presence! A hundred rituals have freed me from the faiths interfering directly with my very being!”

          Sallow produced a set of brass knuckles, as well as a fiber wire garrote. He began his retaliation by knocking the blade from Solomon’s hand with a great punch. While he could not induce anything within Sallow, Solomon tried projecting a mystic arc of lightning, and found it was not wholly resisted. And Sallow still had to physically fight back when Solomon ushered forth another spell, which turned dirt beneath the castle stone to muddy clay that hardened after wrapping around Sallow’s ankle.

          “Give my regards to the fellows in Limbo, Over-commander!”

          Solomon angled for a punch, only for Sallow to meet his bare fist with the brass knuckles. Solomon cried out in pain, followed immediately by a strike to the nose. Blood gushed down over his mouth, leaving his front teeth crimson-coated. It was in that moment that Sallow grabbed Solomon by the jacket, and got to wrapping the garrote around his throat. Along with the profuse bleeding, Solomon would be unable to breathe very much—and soon, almost not at all.

          “Not yet, old man. I’ll not let you go under yet.”

X

          Felix kicked over some tables. Esme was gathering up Aldragar’s alchemical equipment to try and create new explosive concoctions right away. Katrina was handling the orichalcum, packing each sample of the miracle metal in such a way that they would not be jostled or their amplifying effect activated by unexpected turbulence. Tycho and Aldragar raced through the open doors as a shower of gunfire trailed after them—Aldragar taking dozens at a time as he shambled forward to hang off of the makeshift barricade weakly. Tycho was jumping over a crate Felix had pushed into place when two shots fired by the pursuing Lars connected with him, sending his body crashing down unceremoniously. Esme was first to set aside the flasks to check his wounds.

          “Hold still—I’ll get the bullets out. Try not to cry, as you do!”

          “Would that I could focus on my revenge upon you!” howled Tycho, while Esme got to work, and bandaged him as quickly as she could. Felix was right beside them, laying down covering fire.

          “Aldragar—get over here!”

          The vampire lord attempted to rise again, but not before someone charged him with a battering ram, adorned with a golden cross at its striking face. The implement gleamed as it was repeatedly driven into Aldragar’s back, lined up with his spinal column until he began to die a slow and ignoble demise. It was at that time that Solomon was brought in. The entire group was mortified by his bloodied state. Aldragar felt the thirst of the vampire, but he was far too weak to do anything now.

          “Rally Company. I believe you’ve forgotten something in your haste!”

          “Don’t listen to him!—” sputtered Solomon. Katrina stopped what she was doing to try and force Sallow away. But her mistake was to try and grab him telekinetically instead of creating an external wave of force. Any unusual power centered upon his being was for naught. Magic most of all, but that extended to psychic powers to some degree.

          “Drop your weapons, children. Or your teacher ends class early for the day, yes? Good, good. Now for the orichalcum, and surrender of Lord Aldragar’s machinery.”

          The team followed along with Sallow’s first demand of putting their weapons down. Katrina could see that Lars was angling to shoot again, and instinctively she reached out and gripped Lars’s weapon telekinetically. Causing it to explode in his hand as he stumbled aside screaming. The startled Sallow let up as Solomon let off a crackle of mystic static from his hand—although he couldn’t induce any effects onto Sallow’s immediate being, he was still vulnerable to forces that began within the external world, his resistance only keeping him from dying immediately.

Agony flared throughout the Arkavalian Over-Commander’s body as he dropped his garrote, and attempted to strike Solomon again. This time his brass knuckles were superheated by the mystic static.

          “I die in glorious service!” howled Sallow. “I will not be the last. ANOTHER, and yet more may participate in the same practices I have. And they too will be beyond your powers!”

          “But not THIS!”

          Katrina levitated a small marble of orchicalcum, before sending it forward. Not as a projectile, but guiding it right into Sallow’s mouth. At which point Solomon received a telepathic signal. With a snap of his fingers, he generated a small mystic spark next to the orb just as Sallow continued with his platitudes with an open mouth. A small explosion erupted from his cheek, and then elsewhere as the orichalcum marble was involuntarily gulped down, causing total combustion as Over-Commander Sallow was reduced to a skeleton coated in rags and ash.

          Solomon had dived out of the way. Tycho had risen back onto his feet, only to fall down again in his attempt to avoid the explosion. A few troops had caught the gruesome display and retreated, screaming for the comforts of their childhood homes. Aldragar sputtered as everyone reclaimed their things:

          “Callahan. Take whatever you require: But destroy what remains of the castle before you go. With my last breath, I laugh at Othulok! I cackle at the Arkavalian mortals! All that they seek will never be theirs.”

          Solomon produced his handkerchief, and wiped some of the blood off of his own face, and from his glasses.

          “You will have a place in history, Lord Aldragar. From a time when we were mankind’s greatest opponents. And the only goal, to take back the night and foggy days for all that lurked there.”

          Aldragar let off a hoarse snicker.

          “And where the corpses of lesser giants and rusted tanks now grow flowers. I know your idealistic rants well, former Acolyte…”

          With those final words, Solomon drove his sword-cane blade into the heart of the vampire lord. Felix walked over to watch him turn to dust.

          “Sir. I trust you’ll guide us in what equipment to take?”

          Solomon surveyed the laboratory, and nodded.

          “Yes, my dear: With haste. We must deprive Othulok of a source of refined orichalcum, such as Aldragar possessed. At least then he will be unable to amplify the energies of his magic as he casts it upon us in battle.”

          “And we’re done, right?” said Tycho. “We get the miracle metal outta here and whammo—then we stick it to the dead tosser?”

          Of course, Solomon simply adjusted his glasses. Esme had a feeling there was something else involved here.

          “Mr. Callahan…” said Esme, with an uneasy start. Felix’s eyes widened as she and the other looked to Esme for answers. But Solomon gestured first: It was high time he exercised greater honesty himself.

          “What Esme feels concern for, everyone, will indeed be the last of our great search... then, I promise you, we will strike back at Othulok once and for all.”

X

UNTIL NEXT TIME…

#web fiction #rally co. #rally co. 9

[casspurrjoybell-21]

Pirate Chains - Volume 1 - Strong Tides

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 6 - Desperation - Part 1

Ace

"Ace," the summoning echoed. More voices on the Martina took up the call and shouted for the Captain's second.

"Ace."

"Ace, wake the fuck up."

"The Captain's calling you."

Moments later, Ace walks into his Captain's cabin. Ace is a tall man in his late twenties, with handsome looks and straight black silky hair. He held a strong figure with impressive scars on his bare arms that screamed years of experience in piracy. He walked in sleepily while carrying a small lantern.

"Captain. Dawn hasn't woken up yet..."

"Get in here and take a look at him."

Ace frowned as he took in the scene in front of him. Nyx was sitting motionless on the floor with his back against the wall and Agenor's hand on his neck, preventing his head from drooping. Ace walked towards them and the closer he got, the ghastlier Nyx's expression appeared to be. His skin was pale, his eyes hooded yet unblinking and his lips were slightly open. He set the lantern on the floor beside them and knelt next to them. Then, he held Nyx's right wrist and remained silent for a moment, feeling his pulse. He frowned in concern and checked the pulse again.

"What's wrong with him?" Agenor demanded.

"I'm not sure..."

He checked Nyx's eyes, lifting his eyelids one after the other with his free hand.

"Spit it out Ace, why is he like this?" Agenor asked with a hint of desperation that surprised his friend.

Ace moved his hand to press two fingers on the side of Nyx's neck. Checking his pulse once more before answering his captain.

"His heartbeat is very faint. He's physically conscious but mentally, I'm not certain."

"What does that mean? He's either conscious or not. Quit fucking around and check his pulse again."

"Captain, I already did. He's breathing but his Qi is very slow, barely flowing."

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"He's dying."

Distress replaced anger in Agenor's look.

"What? That can't be."

"His body is extremely weak. His energy isn't flowing properly. I've only seen this a couple of times before when sailors barely survived a shark attack. They were badly hurt. Most of them eventually died of shock and blood loss."

"Un-fucking-believable. Do you see sharks on this ship? Or in my cabin, Ace?"

"Something must've happened."

"He didn't leave this room. Didn't even walk the plank or anything, so how would he even see a shark?"

"It's not about sharks per say. I think it's more about experiencing an intensive shock or something."

Ace looked at Nyx and let his eyes travel his body. The young man was topless but another detail caught his attention.

"Why are his pants around his ankles?"

Agenor glared at him. This wasn't the time to discuss unimportant details. Nyx wasn't well. Ace had even said that he was.... Dying. Agenor stared at Nyx and felt very frustrated, along with an emotion he was quite unfamiliar with, guilt. He reached forward and tapped him on the cheek again while calling his name and ordering him to talk. Ace watched his Captain curiously. Then he noticed a familiar dagger lying beside them. He stared at it and his eyes widened in disbelief.

"Agenor, did you use that dagger to threaten him?"

"No, I didn't. This has nothing to do with the dagger."

Ace looked at him skeptically. Threatening was a very preferred pastime to his Captain and he wouldn't put it past him to use the dagger against the nobleman.

"I did no such thing. I really didn't," Agenor defended himself.

Then he smirked and added...

"It was actually the other way around."

"Wait, he attacked you?"

"Surprising, right? He hesitated at first but went for it eventually."

Ace knew that Agenor's smirk hid something else.

"It's odd for you not to kill someone who attacked you, captain. So, what did you do to him when he attacked you? And why did he attack you in the first place? He doesn't look like someone who'd take a swing at a pirate."

"Uh? We were just enjoying ourselves. I'm not sure what upset him."

Ace saw easily through the lie. He had known Agenor for so long now. He looked at Nyx again and as if the conversation sobered him, he realized that they were both very naked, save for the pants that pooled around the younger man's feet.

"Did you sleep with him? A man?"

A cheeky smile on Agenor's face revealed the answer. But it wasn't just the act that was an oddity in this case. The nobleman had tried to kill Agenor and was dying from shock or whatever had happened to...

"Agenor, did you rape him?"

Agenor glared at his subordinate.

"Why the hell would you call it rape? We fucked. Hard. Like you didn't heard us."

"I was dead drunk when I passed out. You know I can sleep through a cyclone. But that's hardly the point... He's a kid Agenor."

"Not according to his unworthy stepfather. I saved him. His life is mine. HE is mine. So don't you fucking let him die now. Without me, he would be nothing but a drowned corpse, starved and drowned at the bottom of the ocean. Pretty crappy luck if you enter the land of the dead on an empty stomach."

"Wait, he was starved? For how long his stepfather say they kept him from food and water?"

"I'm not sure. He said he interrogated him for at least a couple of days. Wait, where the hell are you going?"

[bigtopveggie]

When Midori returns, he's in for quite the sight. Chiaki sent Midori away on purpose to collect them some drinks and snacks, rather than him. A smile of no need to worry plastered on his face. It's the Christmas season! Of course, he chose specifically to spend it with Ryusei Green. He'd visited his parents a little while ago, so it's no problem at all! The room was left to them, as young adults there'd be nothing to worry about, of course! A silent call in the back of his mind to release that Chiaki secret move of fiery passion!

Chiaki swiftly got himself changed in the short duration of time from his winter attire: pants removed, shirt swapped out, underwear removed.

Ryusei Red grabs a hold of Midori's special Sanrio hoodie for personal use as he throws it over his head. Peering down, it covers up his nether regions exceptionally well - certainly it does considering their height and stature difference. Hand tugs against the bottom hem with a small hum. "Excellent!" He mutters something incoherently under his breath before giving himself an extra little boost in moral. Then, he picks up a plush wormon he found online. It's a bit of a bootleg honestly, but he figures Midori will appreciate it anyways.

Thus, when Midori returns, it's the sight that welcomes their eyes!

Chiaki, standing only in the Sanrio hoodie, hugging the plush to his chest. A beaming smile upon his features as he strikes a small pose. "Merry Christmas, Takamine!"

After a family lunch in the company of his brother, Midori's parents were out for holiday vacations, having planned a small hot springs inn trip for the two of them as a couple on the most romantic holiday of the year. It was something both siblings had encouraged ; both parents worked so hard for the shop and their children, it was heartwarming to see them take a bit of respite for themselves. Spending Christmas this way, it felt so ... adult. It was during those moments Midori truly dawned on himself that he was a senior now.

Dinner had actually been with the whole of Ryuseitai-M at the Takamines'. It had been noisy, but ... nice. A whole hot pot, where everyone brought something to eat. It was warm and comforting, in more ways than one.

What Midori had not expected was Morisawa wishing to stay even when everyone was gone to spend the rest of the evening and night with their loved ones. His senpai's words when graduating echoed in his mind : Chiaki had enough time to spend time with everyone ... and he wanted to be here.

Of course Midori could not stop his heart from rising to his head, thinking about which holiday it was. Especially since, as of late, ever since they had some time apart, with their solo career growing, so caught up in their personal growth, as well as Ryuseitai-N ... his feelings never wavered, they only strengthened ... and for this, he was in so much trouble.

Those thoughts were rolling in the green hero's mind while he was stocking on snacks for the both of them, given they might stay up late, still up on the previous party's adrenaline. He was able to calm himself down, focus on them as friends, just spend the night appreciating how they were more and more on equal footing ...

... Everything he had built up with his composure was gone the second he opened the door to his bedroom. The hoodie, the plushie, Chiaki Morisawa, Chiaki's Morisawa bare thighs in his bedroom. His eyes immediately spot what he assumes is his gift : it absolutely delights him, but there is no way he can focus on that.

" S-S-S-Senpai ?! " And here he thought he had grown more confident and fixed some of his stuttering.

His whole face turns red, and the bags of snacks are dropped at his feet, both of Midori's hands reach to his face, covering his nose and mouth ( to prevent yet another Morisawa induced nosebleed ). Had Chiaki never heard of the boyfriend shirt concept before ?! Everything felt like they were adding up with the past months, but when adding the context of how they had spent the past years together, their whole dynamic, there was no way Midori could be sure how aware this obnoxious and dense captain could be ...

The Ryusei Green took a deep breath, before walking towards his senior. Both his hands grasped on top of Chiaki's, so the both of them would hold the wormon together. He then proceeded to push forward, until they'd hit the bed and showing no sign of stopping ; all this until the older was laying down with the plushie in his hands, while Midori was now on all four, on top of him.

" Sigh ... d―didn't I tell you before to watch out, because those kind of things might cause a misunderstanding ... please put on some pants. "

He remained silent for a moment ; not only to make his point better known, but also since he himself needed a second. He hated to admit it, but Morisawa was awfully cute right now. How dare this annoying senior was turning his love for mascots against him ?! It is not like he could control his beating heart and butterfly in the stomach when seeing things that appealed to his aesthetic ... !

And then, even if he had just asked him to put on pants, it wasn't like he was allowing him to move from this spot.

" ... You think Wormon fits me ... ... ... I love it, they are so weird and adorable ... ... ... thank you, Senpai ... but why the whole getup without pants ... I'm going to think Akehoshi is right and that you are a pervert ... "

He did manage to give his genuine reaction to the gift itself, despite their horizontal position ... it was very cute. So cute in fact that it was able to keep his attention despite having his crush half naked on his bed while wearing his hoodie ...

" W-well, now I feel like I need to give you yours, even if I was waiting for tomorrow ... ah―but I guess I can give you the one I was thinking about giving you in private ... "

Slowly, Midori starts to lean in, one hand on the Wormon while the other position itself next to Chiaki's head. Anxiety rises, and he instinctively closes his eyes, unable to meet the other's gaze. The tip of their nose graze against one another, meaning their lips are getting closer. The green hero's mind race : despite it not being the first time they'd be like this, but the first time ... let's say he did not have time to fully realize ...

... but all the tension was for nothing, because he cannot do it. Because he is too much of a coward. He can only roll on the side and grab onto the Wormon, covering his whole face with it―dammit, it even has the lingering scent of Morisawa. His revenge was trampled by his own guts.

#akaisentouki #.shinmeyuutsu ( ic )

[penitentbeggar]

( reconciliation ) ;o;

The comfort he sought for days was not enough to sedate the dreadful heartache that threatened to swallow him whole. He lay in the arms of friends, and the remorse sloshed within his chest like stormy waters against sea walls. He distracted himself with carnal pleasures only to be sorely reminded of his cruel deeds. Zhang San coveted solace, only to be met with great despair. He could not eat, he could not sleep, he could not live… truly, he became a walking phantom upon the waking world.

In the peaceful hours of the night, Zhang San contemplated what could be done to find peace in the turbulent time. Every thought circled back to Sukuna, and the detest upon his face. The pure disgust over the weak mortal lay at his feet, yearning for consolation. Zhang San grappled with why Sukuna despised him, constantly reliving the moments before blood flowed from his throat.

A pact has been broken.

The slow recognition of severed trust dawned upon Zhang San. In the Summer night, illuminated by multi-colored explosions, the two men made a promise to live despite all odds. Zhang San broke his side of the pact, welcoming death so quickly in hopes of finding solace beyond the boundary. Now he has discovered the other side to be akin to a vacuous maw, a doorway to a lifeless void, offering nothing. Zhang San had been selfish, denying the fact that some exist who wish to see him live. 

For all his life, he yearned for someone to wish him to live. He desired one person in his life to beg him to exist and see through the empty soul that lies within a bleary vessel. Yet, when that someone did, and believed in Zhang San, to go so far as to decree a pact, Zhang San denied him. Zhang San barred the notion that someone could desire to see him live, only to spite himself. In his vicious battle with self-loathing, he injured a bystander and broke the fated pact.

Soon as he came to his conclusion, Zhang San forced his fatigued body out of Eiden’s bed, running past his good friend in the living room without a word. He could hear his friend call out to him, attempting to receive an answer for the sudden burst of energy; though Zhang San could not falter, he needed to find Sukuna. 

Zhang San sprinted through the crowded streets. He rammed into people when he could not out-maneuver them, barely gasping out a word of apology before he continued forward. He searched in every seedy part of the city. He searched dark alleyways, seedy bars that collected the most suspicious folk, and even the pier where the two mandated life. 

The ragged breaths prevented him from continuing. He lurched over and released heavy coughs, spitting out as he did. Only a week ago, he felt his lungs collapse underneath Ilseong’s blade; the pain he endured now doubled in intensity. Zhang San released a painful yell, roaring in anger over his selfish actions. Another burst of energy, and he began to sprint again. His muscles throbbed with every lunge. 

In the distance, the Sun began to set, and the city’s lights illuminated the approaching darkness. He continued regardless of the time; regardless of the pain, he persisted. The solution was made clear, and he became determined to see it through till the end. No matter how long it took or how much he destroyed his body, he would find Sukuna.

Before he knew it, the moon loomed above him, radiating a pale glow over the thick, mangled forest. The moon’s beams shone through the openings of the canopy, lighting the unscrupulous market. He has checked half of the city, not including the locations on the outskirts. It did not matter how long it would take him; he would see his objective completed. Though his body expended all of its energy, he barely waddled through the unfriendly market, noticing the animosity radiating from the frequent visitors.

Zhang San remains steadfast, ignoring the sneers and unsavory looks he receives as he navigates through the dimly lit market. He continues until he suddenly recognizes the teenager with pink hair adorned in traditional robes. Zhang San’s breathing hitches, and his body trembles in fear. The phantom pain strikes his throat, and he reaches to hold the invisible blood that pours from his wound.

He drops to his knees, unable to fathom the fear that succumbs him. He can’t breathe; he’s suffocating. His hands begin to vibrate, and his vision blurs. He’s dying, he knows he’s dying– but after all this effort, he can’t die. Zhang San made a promise, he broke that promise, but that promise still held weight over his heart.

Abruptly, Zhang San screams, and he gains control of his body. He slams his hands into the ground, smashing his head against the gravel with immense speed. He can feel the ragged rocks pierce flesh, embedding into his skin. He feels the hot liquid bloom from the silvers of the open wounds, dripping onto the ground. Zhang San stares at the tiny puddles on the ground, a mixture of sweat, tears, and blood. 

“I BROKE OUR PACT.”

A powerful voice rips through the market, deafening all noise around him. Zhang San hears the silence grow around him, and he fears Sukuna has made his departure. He takes another deep breath, inflating his lungs to their max capacity, and again he cries.

“I BROKE OUR PACT OUT OF MY SELFISHNESS AND MY OWN WEAKNESS. I GROVEL BEFORE YOU NOW, BEGGING FOR YOUR FORGIVENESS.”

Zhang San feels his eyes burn as tears bubble from his eyes, and his lips tighten and curl. Once again, his body begins to vibrate.

“I AM SORRY, SUKUNA. I AM VERY SORRY.” 

Zhang San tries to push his head through the ground. He forces his forehead deeper into the rocks, feeling a pebble press through his flesh and against his skull. The vibrations begin to settle as the guilt begins to ease. He becomes remiss from the remorse, sinking into a moment of clarity. The fear and the sorrow he felt did not derive solely from the understanding that death is not the end. No, his pain manifested in failing a person who believed he had the right to live, regardless of his cursed origins. He denied everything he ever wanted, and now in this moment of acceptance, Zhang San feels alive.

“Whatever punishment I receive,” Zhang San continues, his voice immensely at peace, “I am deserving. I subject myself to you, Sukuna.”

#bimeval #answered ask #tw: depression #tw: depressive thoughts #tw: depressive episode #tw: panic attack #tw: blood #tw: anxiety