#brief mention of blood

[saurexhas]

Feast of 1000 Beasts (Not Literally)

Butcher’s birthday was back in January, but this was still so much fun to write up. I don’t think I’m catching up any time soon though XD

Once again, this is set in the @nightmare-castle universe, with a guest appearance from Utotale! Hope you all enjoy!

“Excuse me! May I have everyone’s attention?” Pyre looked upon his brother’s teammates… coworkers? Associates? Whatever… Cross, Killer, and Dust were all in the lounge, playing cards. Well, Dust and Killer were playing, and Cross was about three seconds away from turning the table into a lawn dart. Why the ex-soldier continued to play cards against these two never ceased to surprise him, considering that it almost always ended up with Cross being broke and angry at the world.

At the very least, it seemed that his announcement would save him from having to replace another table. All three of them looked up as he spoke out in his usual loud voice, with various amounts of actual interest in whatever he had to say. Still, he had their attention, which is exactly what he asked for, so no time to complain about all the little details!

“As I’m sure you’re all aware, today is my brother’s birthday!”

“Oh… was that today?” Cross chimed in with uncertainty.

“Butch has a birthday?” Killer added.

“Don’t care,” was all Dust mumbled, placing down a card from his hand. “Ono.”

“Dammit! How the hell do you always win?!”

“Cross, if you don’t break the table, I shall forgive you all for forgetting my brother’s birthday,” Pyre sighed, looking to the three in exasperation. “Never fear! The great Pyre always has a backup plan to account for things such as others forgetting birthdays! I’ve already planned a great feast as my brother’s present, with our king’s permission of course! And you three are going to help me!”

Killer’s skull moved as if he was rolling his nonexistent eye lights. “And why would we do that? What do we get outta helping ya?”

With the most serious look he could muster, Pyre calmly stated, “Only those that assist will be allowed to enjoy the feast.”

“Wait, so if we don’t help you out, we go hungry?” Cross seemed to be the most upset… er, well he seemed to be the only one that was upset about that possibility. That meant that he’d have to plan around Killer and Dust’s obvious reluctance.

The taller skeleton’s usual grin was back on his face as he waved off the soldier’s worries. “Oh, not to worry! Your task is relatively easy Cross! All you need to do is keep my brother occupied whilst I shop for and prepare the feast! As for you two…” His gaze turned to the others, ignoring how the monochrome skeleton clearly didn’t think that entertaining Butcher would be easy. “You two will be coming with me to the Uto market! I’ll be in need of help carrying the groceries and picking out the best selections!”

“Why don’t ya just take Butcher hunting?” Killer piped up, leaning back in his chair as he casually threw down a skip that left Cross fuming. “Don’t you Horrortale variants love fresh meat? Just throw him in some safari or nature preserve and call it good!”

“Oh, now that is just verse-ist and you know it.” He waggled his finger disapprovingly in the emotionless skeleton’s direction, even if his scolding would have little to no effect. “If you wish though, think of the trip to the market as a civilized hunting trip! And we shall be doing the hunting so that my brother can enjoy his birthday without having to worry about food!” Even if his brother might truly revel in the thrill of the hunt, he wanted to pamper him and allow Butcher to enjoy a meal with no work or strings attached for once.

“I’m in,” Dust shrugged his shoulders, turning his focus back to the single card in his hand as he threw it down. “And I win again.”

“Wait, you’re actually gonna go along with this?” Killer seemed surprised that the normally reclusive skeleton was up for it, everyone ignoring how Cross was tugging on his uniform’s straps and trying desperately not to scream in rage as Dust scooped up all of his G on the table.

The hooded skeleton was focused more on counting his winnings, only glancing up slightly between Pyre and Killer. “It’s a day off, right? The king gave permission, and we all know better than to argue with Pyre.”

“Huh, good point… okay, I’m in!” Killer hopped to his feet, with his quiet teammate legging behind as he scooped up his winnings. “So, we heading out right now?”

The tallest skeleton of the bunch was thrilled that the two were willing to assist on the promise of a day off, clapping his hands a bit and nodding. “We can if the both of you are ready!”

“Wait, how the hell am I supposed to distract Butcher?!” Cross cried out, looking at the group as they started heading out.

Killer was the one to respond, turning around and sneering, “Maybe play cards against him! It’s always fun watching you lose over and over again!” Dust snickered quietly at the remark, with Pyre sighing once again as he ignored all of the curses slipping from the soldier’s mouth.

“Very well, let us get going then! The sooner we get there, the sooner we can procure everything we need!” Leading the way, Pyre turned back once to wish Cross good luck in his quest, missing the look of desperation directed at his back as the three skeletons teleported to Utotale.

Cross knew that he was screwed. Why did he get this assignment?! Didn’t Pyre like him? He was way more responsible than the other two, so why was he the one left on babysitting duty while they got to go to Uto? Groaning to himself, the ex-soldier looked down to where Butcher was sitting in the garden, sharpening his axe and humming some tune to himself. Maybe he could just leave the big guy alone? Surely Butcher would be able to entertain himself for a while… though he’d get suspicious the second he went to the kitchen and found his brother missing. Stars, he really was about to do this, wasn’t he?

Descending the steps, he noticed the subtle movements of his teammate’s skull, indicating that Butcher now knew he was here. “Whatcha doin’ here, marshmallow? Come ta smell the roses?” The larger skeleton clearly thought that he was funny, whereas the marshmallow nickname just left Cross once again considering to bail on this plan and fend for himself for dinner.

“I told you not to call me that,” he growled back in response, shooting the other a glare as their gazes finally met. Taking a breath to calm his temper, he tried to seem as casual as possible. “I was just… curious about what you were working on, that’s all.”

That one red eye narrowed suspiciously at his words, Butcher putting his whetstone in his pocket as he stood up. “Yer a horrible liar, little Oreo. Mind tellin’ me why yer really here?”

He didn’t know which nickname was worse, but at least Oreo didn’t imply that he was soft and squishy like marshmallow did. Steeling his nerves, he stood as tall as he could… even if it did nothing to minimise the height difference between them. Well… Killer had said that they love seeing him lose… “Fine, you caught me. Had a bit of a challenge for ya. I need to practice dealing with more aggressive monsters, so… how about a hunt?” Oh stars, this was a horrible idea! “I run off into the garden, and you hunt me down. I get my practice, and you get… whatever you get out of hunting other monsters down.”

It seemed to take the scarred skeleton a moment to process his request, though his eye was quick to dilate as if trying to take all of him in at once. “Y’sure ya wanna do that, Oreo? Can’t say I’ll hold back if ya really get me going.” Swallowing down his fear, Cross nodded, the action causing Butcher to let out a raspy chuckle. “Alright tidbit, I’ll give ya a head start. Better hope ya can run fast, or this won’t be any fun~”

Blinking a couple times, the monochrome skeleton quickly processed the predatory look he was being given, and bolted. “I’m such a fucking idiot, I should’ve gone with cards!” He hissed at himself, hoping to put as much distance between himself and his hunter as possible before his head start was up. He could only hope that things were going smoothly on Pyre’s end of things.

“Here we are, the Utotale market!” Pyre announced with glee, gesturing to the many stalls and shops filled with monsters bustling about. This utopic world welcomed anyone so long as they didn’t cause trouble, including those among Nightmare’s ranks. As such, nobody spared them more than a glance before continuing on their way. It was nice to not be scorned for their political associations for once, the tall skeleton enjoying the peaceful view for a moment before getting on with the day’s mission.

Fishing out a pen and notebook, he turned to the two skeletons he’d recruited with his usual enthusiasm. “Alright! I want my brother’s feast to be memorable, and as such I want to collect ingredients from several AUs! The main focus shall be meat, as it’s my brother’s favourite, but we’ll need all sorts of supplies. Killer, can you please start looking around for more rare and exotic meats? I want the main dishes to be special and memorable! And Dust, can you look for unique produce? There should be plenty of options here. I shall be acquiring a few of the items I already know that I need, but do not hesitate to get my attention if you find something!”

Feeling confident in his instructions, he waved as the pair wandered off to explore, watching them mutter to themselves before snickering. Part of him was worried that the two were planning to cause trouble, but he figured that neither of them would be foolish enough to provoke a fight in this world. Just because it was a utopia, didn’t mean that the world was void of talented fighters. It was practically a requirement, given how often multiversal travellers and outcodes stopped here.

As the papyrus went about his shopping trip, he wasn’t too surprised when Killer flagged him over quickly. When he went to see what he’d found though, Pyre was left unimpressed as the emotionless skeleton pointed to a piece of gum on the sidewalk. “Hey look, I found something! Think this’ll work for your feast thing?”

“Killer… that’s a piece of gum.”

“Yeah? Just because I don’t have eye lights doesn’t mean I’m blind. Besides, you said for us to call you over if we found anything, and I found something. It’s even edible, so bonus!”

Already regretting his earlier wording, Pyre’s attempt to chastise Killer for being a smartass was interrupted by Dust flagging him down. “Hopefully it’s something good…” Turning back to Killer, he glared as he clarified, “Alright, how about I reword things? Call me over if you find a meat product that I can use in the feast.”

Ignoring the snickering coming from behind him as he turned away, Pyre rushed over to where Dust was, only to sigh as he saw the same shit-eating grin on his face. “Found a good napping spot. This bench is pretty comfy.”

“Nyeh! You’re supposed to tell me if you found any decent produce!” Grumbling to himself, it became clear quite quickly that the pair had planned this. “Only call me over if you find good produce, understand? I have a lot of shopping to get done and I cannot spend all of my time chasing after you two!” Huffing, he quickly walked off back to where he’d been shopping originally. He really hoped that Cross was having better luck on his end of things.

“Ready or not, here I come, marshmallow!” It took every bit of training Cross had to not snap back at Butcher for the comment, knowing that doing so would give away his current location. Lucky for him, the garden was vast and had plenty of ground for him to hide in. Still, he knew better than to stay still; keeping moving would be best considering who was chasing him. If he just hid in a bush, then Butcher would sniff him out in no time.

At the very least, his plan was working to keep the big guy occupied and distracted from his brother’s shopping trip, though he was still questioning his sanity given the plan he’d ended up going with. There wasn’t any way to change it now though, so all he could do was keep going, running deeper and deeper into the gardens in the hopes of buying himself more time before Butcher actually made contact.

Every twist and turn through the maze-like garden left the ex-soldier more and more disoriented, the thought that he’d gotten turned around and was actually heading towards his hunter having come up more than once. Sighing, all Cross could do was keep going and hope for the best at this point… best being that he didn’t get an axe embedded in his ribcage.

After however long he’d been going, Cross figured that if he hadn’t already been caught by now, he’d put enough distance between them for a break. Despite his training, he knew that he couldn’t go on forever at the same pace. It would be better for the monochrome skeleton to take a break now while he could, ensuring that he’d have enough energy to run when the time came.

Yet just as he sat down and leaned up against a tree, his instincts started screaming at him to move. Cross was quite thankful that he listened when he did, rolling out of the way just as a familiar axe went flying through the air and embedded itself in the tree he’d just been against.

“Oh bollocks, looks like I missed,” Butcher purred, slow steps taking him directly towards his axe and his quarry. Taking the hint, Cross scrambled to his feet and took off once again, all thoughts of taking a break now completely gone from his mind as he realised that his teammate would pounce on him the second he stopped. No, he had to keep going, and just pray that he wasn’t making some horrible mistake.

Pyre was finally starting to make some headway, having purchased a few essential ingredients, when he noticed that Killer was trying to get his attention. Seeing that the shorter skeleton was actually standing near a shop this time, he felt that this trip would turn out to be more promising than the last one.

He was so wrong. While Killer had indeed found a meat product as instructed, he was proudly gesturing to a regular old butcher shop with the more common meats found across the multiverse for sale. Beef, chicken, pork, and various fish all filled the counter, and Killer was acting like he’d found a cornucopia of goodies.

“Killer… we have all of this meat available to us at home,” he pointed out, frowning at the chuckle his words received.

“Not my fault someone wasn’t specific with their instructions, you just told me to find meat.”

“I told you at the beginning of our trip to find rare and exotic meats! Not- ugh, I don’t know why I’m wasting my energy arguing with you when you’re doing this on purpose.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure why you are either,” Killer shrugged, waltzing out of the butcher shop and leaving behind an annoyed Pyre and one very confused butcher. Apologizing to the people present for the disturbance, he quickly fled the shop and tried to get back to his shopping, ignoring the laughter echoing from the emotionless skeleton nearby. For someone with muted emotions, he sure did get an annoying amount of joy out of making others miserable.

He was half-expecting Dust to pipe up with some annoying misinterpretation of his instructions as well, only to see no sign of him. The taller skeleton cautiously went about his shopping, though he was distracted as he kept expecting his sullen friend to pop up with another joke to tell. But… nothing. There was no sign of him anywhere, and Killer even commented on his absence.

Growing worried, Pyre wondered if Dust had simply taken a nap on the bench he’d found earlier. But instead of finding the familiar sight of a sleeping skeleton, all there was at the bench was a hastily scrawled note. Got bored. Too many people. See you later. - D

“Oh no! Dust has wandered off somewhere! Oh, what if he gets lost? Or hurt? Or lost and hurt?! Oh nyoh-hoh-hoh, why did he go off on his own?!”

“Pyre, relax!” Killer commented, appearing beside him and clapping a hand against his back. “This is Dust we’re talkin’ about! Dude’s a one-man army, so if he gets in trouble, he won’t be the one hurt.”

“ … That’s somehow even worse! Oh, what if he hurts someone? We’ll be banned from ever shopping here again! And the king will be so mad! Oh, Killer! We have to find him before everything goes wrong!”

The smaller skeleton shot him a wry smile, looking at him as if he’d grown a second skull. “What part about relax did you not get? Ya gotta stop looking at all the things that can go wrong… and instead look at that sick-ass pachinko parlour! I bet I can double my G in there!” And off Killer went, waving for the other to follow him before he disappeared inside.

Sighing, Pyre went to check if he had enough to pay for the inevitable gambling debt that would come, only to frown as he patted his pocket. It. Was. Empty. “Killer, you scoundrel! How dare you pickpocket the great Pyre?!” Maybe Killer was right and Dust could take care of himself for a while. Even if the hooded skeleton was moody and prone to outbursts, he knew well enough to not cause a disturbance in a place like this. With that justification, Pyre found himself chasing after Killer in the hopes of getting some of his G back before the idiot spent it all. He just had to pray that he wasn’t making some horrible mistake.

“Ohshitohshitohshitohshit! Fucking shit!” Cross was left cursing up a storm as he dodged swing after swing of Butcher’s blade, the larger skeleton cackling behind him as he swung his weapon haphazardly. Each strike came perilously close to hitting him, leaving him struggling to dodge and weave around as he struggled to see both where he was going and where his attacker was aiming.

In one of his moments of looking behind himself, the monochrome skeleton failed to see the one tree that he was coming towards. As a result, he crashed straight into it, the air fleeing his chest and leaving him winded as he collapsed back into the dirt.

He half expected to open his eyes to find a blade buried in his chest, only to find himself alone once he looked around. Sitting up, Cross looked to the surrounding foliage in disbelief. There was no way that Butcher had given up hunting him… no, this had to be a trap, or… or something.

His teammate’s cackling laughter seemed to echo from all around him, causing his head to whip every which way until he was certain that he’d give himself whiplash. “Why don’t we… change things up a bit, marshmallow? Chasin’ ya’s no fun if ya can’t see a fuckin’ tree in the way. So instead of gettin ya glasses, we’re gonna see how well ya can find where I’m coming from.”

“Oh, fuck…” Cross groaned, pulling himself to his feet and surveying his surroundings. In the time that he’d been winded on the ground, the other skeleton had hidden somewhere within the gardens, waiting to ambush him. This was most definitely not what he’d expected when he’d come up with this idea, his hate for such a stupid plan only growing. But there was nothing that he could do now except live with the consequences of his actions… even if that meant having Butcher stalk him like a piece of meat.

As the monochrome skeleton tried to get his bearings, faint rustling could be heard behind him. Whipping around, he saw a bush rustling nearby only for it to go still shortly after, no indication that the larger skeleton was in there. Another rustle behind him led to the same result, and once again he was left spinning in circles, with a raspy cackle echoing through the air as if to taunt him.

Well… at least someone was having fun, and more importantly was staying distracted to buy Pyre all the time he needed. Gritting his teeth, Cross decided to be proactive for once and summon one of his swords, knowing that he’d most likely be needing it to better fend off attacks. “Ooh, look who’s gettin serious?” Butcher’s voice was crystal clear, coming from right behind him. Whipping around with his sword ready, the shorter skeleton intercepted the incoming attack, their weapons clashing against each other with both skeletons in each other’s faces. “The marshmallow’s finally fighting back~ I love it when my prey struggles.” A tongue snaked out from between Butcher’s parted teeth, licking along his mouth as he looked at him with hungry eyes.

Even as part of Cross grew worried at the predatory gaze locked on him, his temper flared at the demeaning nickname directed at him. Pushing the scarred skeleton off of him, he jumped back before lunging at the other with a snarl. “I told you don’t call me that!”

Snickering, Butcher fell back behind the shadow of a nearby tree. By the time Cross rounded the corner, his opponent was already gone, disappearing into the nearby dark foliage. “This is what I get for trying to hide from a Horror variant,” he grumbled, fully expecting the rest of their night to be full of jump scares and the two of them clashing. If he got out of this without a few wounds, he’d honestly be surprised. About all he could do now was make the best of a bad situation and hope things turned out like he’d planned.

“You spent HOW MUCH MONEY?!” Pyre blurted out, about ready to wring Killer’s nonexistent neck. “We needed that money to buy the ingredients! Why would you spend all of our money?!”

“Technically I spent all of your money,” Killer snickered, looking pretty pleased with himself as he was forcibly dragged out of the third place he’d bolted into. Contrary to his claims, the emotionless skeleton had not doubled his money in the pachinko parlour. In fact, he’d hadn’t even broken even, resulting in Pyre grumbling as he dragged the other from his seat. Insisting that he could make back the losses, Killer had then darted into a shop to find some rare, one-of-a-kind item that he could sell for a ton of cash… only for them to come out of there with more junk to carry around and a replica of some rare, one-of-a-kind item that was utterly worthless.

Now Pyre’s companion was apparently in the mood for snacks and junk food, disappearing into a convenience store where he spent an ungodly amount of money on scratch tickets, cigarettes, and some local drugs that were legal. The skeleton had been just grabbing his snacks for another round of purchases by the time Pyre got his hands on him.

“This is just great,” the Papyrus variant muttered, slumping down to look at what his money had been spent on. “I’m broke, have none of the supplies I needed, and Dust is still missing! Can this day get any worse?!”

As if the universe saw fit to punish him for testing fate, thunder rumbled in the distance, and the first few drops of rain started to fall. “You had to say it,” Killer sneered, looking to the sky. “Though I gotta admit, I’m surprised that the rain didn’t start until you opened your big mouth. Woulda thought stuff like that only happened in the movies.”

“You are not helping my mood whatsoever, you good-for-nothing pickpocket!” Grumbling to himself, the tall skeleton knew better than to stay out if it was truly going to rain. “Come on, let’s find a place to shelter and wait out the storm. I refuse to add being soaked to my list of reasons for being miserable.”

The two dragged Killer’s purchases along as they hunted for an overhang to hide under, hoping that the storm would blow past and they could continue on with their shopping. Judging by how the local monsters were closing up shop and seeking cover though, Pyre didn’t have a ton of hope. “Oh, I do hope that Dust will be alright!”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Came a familiar voice right beside Pyre, the suddenness of said voice causing a screech that may have cracked some nearby glass. Dust didn’t look impressed as the Papyrus turned to greet him, a bored look plastered on his face as he tugged his hood down a bit to keep out the growing wind. “I told ya I’d come back, right? Besides, why would you worry about me? I can take care of myself.”

“I told ya so!” Killer chimed in with glee, waving to his companion. “Heya Dusty! Where ya been?”

The other Sans variant just shrugged his shoulders. “Had a nap until someone woke me up. Then got bored again and went and played cards.”

“Please tell me you aren’t broke like Killer is,” Pyre groaned, wondering why all of his brother’s teammates seemed to have gambling problems.

“For the record, you’re the broke one Pyre. I’ve still got all of my G!”

Ignoring Killer’s comment, Dust just smirked and pulled out a large bag. The contents clinked against each other as he shook it, hinting that the whole thing was full of his winnings. “I don’t lose at cards.”

Before Killer could drool all over the bag, it disappeared back into Dust’s inventory. A book was then pulled out in its place, the hooded skeleton quickly tossing it to Pyre who fumbled and barely managed to catch it. “Found you a fancy cookbook. Thought you might like it. Picked up a few of the things the book said ya needed a bunch of too.”

When shown some of the ingredients that had been procured for him, Pyre felt ready to cry out of pure joy. “Oh Dust! You’ve saved the day, my mood, and my brother’s birthday feast!” Unable to hold back, he launched his arms around the shorter skeleton and hugged him close, missing the look of confusion, pain, and discomfort on the other’s face. By the time they pulled away, there was no sign of his expression having been anything but the neutral boredom from before.

“Right! With all of this and what we have at home, I should be able to pull the feast off! This book should help me turn even the most bland and basic ingredients into a dish for the ages, nyeh-heh-heh! Come now, let’s go home before the rain really gets going!” He didn’t have nearly the supplies that he’d hoped for, but the rain was shutting down the market so there’d be limited options for him to get more ingredients. That, and he had no money to get anything else thanks to Killer’s antics. Between what he managed to get earlier though and what Dust had got him, he’d hopefully have enough. About all he could do now was make the best of a bad situation and hope things turned out like he’d planned.

When the group returned home, Butcher was thankfully nowhere in sight. It seemed that Cross was still managing to keep his attention, giving Pyre all the time he needed to prepare the feast. Killer was almost immediately relieved of duty, the taller skeleton not wanting him to ruin anything else with his juvenile behaviour. The emotionless skeleton had just snickered and walked off, as if he’d accomplished his goal.

Dust wasn’t much help either, but he at least stayed around to sort and prep ingredients upon Pyre begging him to do so. There was simply too much work to get done in time for dinner. Had someone not used all of the tall skeleton’s savings to gamble and buy useless junk, perhaps he’d have more time like he’d planned for. But as it stood, he figured that Cross could inevitably only hold his brother’s attention for so long before the smell of food would steal Butcher away.

Thankfully, the castle had a wonderful kitchen that allowed him to cook many of the dishes at once, speeding up the process as Pyre used his boundless energy to run this way and that. It was the fastest he’d ever prepared a meal before, especially when factoring in the fact that many of the dishes and ingredients were foreign to him. Thanks to the cookbook Dust got him though, several mouth watering delicacies were prepared and set on the table by the time Butcher made an appearance.

The scarred skeleton came in with Cross slung over his shoulder, the ex-soldier wheezing and covered in dirt and bleeding cuts. Plopping the short skeleton in one of the dining chairs, Butcher stuck his head around the corner to find his brother coming through with another armload of dishes.

“Oh, Brother! Welcome back! And Happy Birthday! I do hope you enjoy the present we prepared for you!” As he went to set the dishes on the table among the other ones, Pyre finally caught sight of a barely conscious Cross slumped over in his seat. “Oh goodness, what on earth happened to him?”

“Lil marshmallow bit off a bit more ‘an he could chew, is all,” Butcher chuckled, fingers reflexively hooking onto his dead socket before Pyre made a point of swatting at him for the bad habit. “So what’s all this then? Ya said somethin’ bout a birthday present?”

The younger of the two brothers just grinned and gestured at the table, his smile only growing when he saw recognition and understanding fill his brother’s gaze, followed shortly after by awe and hunger. “Stars know I understand how much food means to you, so I figured what better present than a feast! Everything at the table is yours to taste and devour as you see fit, brother! Most of these dishes or the ingredients used are from foreign universes too, to make the present more exciting! Do you like it?” He was practically bouncing in place as he waited for feedback, paying no mind to Dust bringing the last few dishes in to fill in the few empty spots on the long banquet table.

Butcher remained silent for a while, looking over the various dishes while visibly drooling. He seemed to be struggling to take in such abundance, which made perfect sense to the taller skeleton, given that they’d gone without for so long. “Heh,” his brother finally spoke up, turning to his brother with a wide grin. “Best present I eva got, thanks bro. I’ll be sure ta enjoy it.” With that, his brother took Nightmare’s usual seat at the head of the table. Given that their king had no interest in participating or assisting with the events, there was no harm in the action. In fact, it was almost like it was the king’s gift to Butcher, giving him an evening where he was the most important and the center of attention.

Instead of taking a seat himself, Pyre remained standing to help keep his brother’s plate full. He brought the older skeleton various dishes from all over the table, allowing him to taste a bit of everything that was prepared. At Butcher’s insistence, he helped himself to a few servings as well, not wanting to upset the scarred skeleton on his special day.

Dust remained quiet as he ate, taking a modest helping from a few of the nearest dishes. When some of them weren’t to his liking, a bit of blue magic served to bring other options to him, allowing him to remain seated at the other end of the table and away from the chaos.

Killer must’ve heard the ruckus in the dining hall, because it wasn’t too long before he appeared and started stuffing his face. While Pyre would’ve scolded him for his lack of manners, he quickly thought better of it as the end result would likely only be a headache with no change in behaviour.

And poor Cross just sat there, groaning something about pain and hunting and stupid. Whatever he’d been up to as a means of distracting Pyre’s brother, it might’ve been a bit too effective from the looks of things. Ever appreciative of his efforts, the tall skeleton made sure to save him a plate to thank him for his hard work. Hopefully the intent poured into all his meals would help soothe whatever pain he currently found himself in.

While his plans hadn’t gone as expected, Pyre found himself thrilled with the result. His brother was full and happy, and Pyre himself even had a new cookbook and several new recipes to add to his repertoire! All in all, things turned out better than he’d hoped. Now… all that was left to do was dump dishwashing duty on Killer as payback for the stolen G.

#nightmare castle #pyre #horror papyrus #butcher #horror Sans #killer sans #dust sans #cross sans #butcher's birthday #utotale #tw gambling #tw hunting #brief mention of blood #cross comes up with a dumb idea and pays for it #lots of food #epic feast #killer definitely did not do the dishes #dishes miraculously ended up in cross' room #saurex works #saurex drabbles

[taiso]

a Rarotongan Express article, detailing filming conditions between late August and early September in anticipation for the (then upcoming) release of Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence (1983).

Clipped from a 1982 issue of Soundall Magazine, scanned from my personal collection ^^

#soundall magazine #merry christmas mr lawrence #mcml #戦場のメリークリスマス #ryuichi sakamoto #坂本龍一 #takeshi kitano #北野武 #nagisa oshima #大島渚 #david bowie (brief mention) #1980s #my scans #fake blood warning for an image on the first page #(just to be safe)

[corfisers]

i really need to finish this one day

#one of my fave ideas but i keep getting stuck or starting over. third time's the charm hopefully #anyways. posting it as an excuse to rant because i'm losing my mind over this rn for no reason #incoherent but i just need to Talk or my brain won't shut up #you ever think about how fucked up it is that aoi feels guilty over what happened. i do. i think about her a lot #he can't even look at me. we aren't even blood related but he still had to go to jail because of me. i still love him #in reality none of it is her fault. it shouldn't be about doumeki in the first place. baby girl you were 15 when it happened. #you can say that yashiro is cruel in his dismissiveness (on the surface) of doumeki's trauma but you can see where he's coming from #you got a glimpse of what your sister was going through? of what i went through? and now you're sooo guilty over it? and who does it help? #doumeki's so focused on his own feelings that he ignored aoi when they were living together. “saves” her by pure chance #proceeds to focus on his guilt and ignore her again. if yashiro didn't get involved she'd be sitting in the rain for god knows how long #yet she still loves and to some degree idolizes him #yashiro and aoi both saying that doumeki isn't the type of person to be a yakuza too. doumeki's good doumeki's better than that #and then ch 24 happens. where yashiro says that he's going to throw up and doumeki's response is “i probably won't stop even if you do” #“guess i am like my father after all” and yashiro still goes “you're not. you're pure and im the problem” #(touches doumeki's face. rare gentle gesture. he's gentle afterwards too before leaving. man.) #he's not cruel enough to repeat what he said in the earlier conversation and he doesn't actually believe it anyway #but i wish yashiro was cruel there. it shouldn't have been about doumeki and his feelings. again. #something about yashiro throwing a knife at another person and it flying back at him huh #for all the talk about how doumeki supposedly romanticizes yashiro it really is the other way around. always has been #which is a whole other conversation but yeah. everything about aoi and yashiro in relation to doumeki makes me so fucking sad #but this is also what i mean when i say that aoi doesn't haunt the narrative per se but still has this weird presence? #she's in the parallels. she's in the brief but important mentions. she's in the “your sister was lucky she had you”. #wips tag

[whentherewerebicycles]

it's good news thank god 😭😭😭

#iui tag #last time this was the first indication that things weren't going right #because it was only a 30% increase and it needed to be 60-100% for her to think everything was normal #but this time my levels went up by 216% 😭😭😭 #i am weeping in a study room #maybe it's all going to be okay #my ultrasound is next thurs (week and a half) #i am going to try SO hard to stay in the headspace of joy during this brief window where i have no medical encounters #she mentioned that if i am feeling really anxious about the utlrasound i can have one more blood draw done in the meantime #and i think i will try to be chill but will keep that in reserve if i really need confirmation that things are going ok #but JOY JOY JOY #anyway in other news i think i might have a bit of light pregnancy loss trauma 🫠 #the degree to which i was out of my fucking mind all weekend and all day today was just uh #it was a lot #i was so sick with adrenaline i was shaking on the drive to work #but okay #just gonna #focus on the joy of right now

[icycoldninja]

He failed (Angeal x reader angst)

TW: Blood, death, brief mentions of guns, dark themes, and angst themes. If you are not comfortable with these themes, DNI.

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

It was late at night; you were returning from visiting a friend's house, though you probably should have stayed the night. It was dark, the streets were empty, and most people, save for a drunken man crying on the curb surrounded by empty beer bottles, were asleep. You sighed, wrapped your arms around yourself, and kept walking down the cold roads.

"Probably should have stayed at F/N's house..." You mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself when a chilly wind whipped past you. You continued down the street, nervously glancing around, making sure you weren't being followed. Several minutes of unsettling silence passed before you heard a loud clattering from somewhere behind you. Startled, you whirled around and peered into the shadows, not finding anything. Disturbed, you turned and broke out into a mad dash, heading towards a busy intersection. It was then when you heard them approaching.

"Heya, baby girl. You look lost."

You turned and saw three burly men, far bigger than you, standing there with weapons. You gasped and turned, trying to run away, but one of them rushed forwards and grabbed you by the arm. It was so fast, so sudden. You were scared out of your mind right then--how could anyone move like that?! You struggled, but their grips were like iron vises; escape was impossible. You screamed for help, but didn't get to for long, because one of them clamped their meaty hand over your mouth, silencing you.

Still, you continued resisting, all the way until you caught sight of a white feather falling from the sky. Your eyes widened in surprise as you watched it delicately land on the ground, unnoticed by the thugs. Hope rose in your heart as a familiar figure crashed to the ground, startling your assailants.

"What the-?! Who the hell is that!?" One of them shrieked, unhanding you and staring up at your rescuer with fear.

"Angeal!" You squealed, happily running into his arms.

"Y/N," He greeted, wrapping you up in his beefy biceps and pinning you to his chest with his fluffy, white wing. "Are you alright?" You nodded, turning back to look at the terrified street punks who'd run off crying for their mommies.

"I'm so glad you're here. I was afraid..." You sighed, burying your face in his pectorals. Angeal chuckled softly and kissed your forehead.

"Don't worry, I'm here now." You nestled deeper into his touch.

"Thanks, Angie. I love you." Angeal kissed you again, then wrapped an arm around your shoulder and led you down the street.

"I love you, too, Y/N. I'll always be here to protect you." You laughed and hooked your arm around his lean waist, snuggling against him as you walked.

"I'll hold you to it."

About a month or so later, Angeal huffed out a worried sigh and checked his phone. 12:45 A.M.

You were late. Too late. He sank back into the couch and folded his arms, trying to calm the uneasiness brewing in his heart--a feat that proved impossible.

"This doesn’t make sense." He grumbled. It really didn't. You hadn't gone anywhere except to work. Coming home shouldn't take until midnight! Angeal stood up and headed for the door, sure that something bad must have happened. He was already halfway down the road when his phone rang. It was from your phone. Relieved, he answered the call. "Y/n, I've been so worried-"

"Hello, S.O.L.D.I.E.R." Rasped an unfamiliar voice. Angeal's pulse suddenly went into overdrive. He'd been right, something had happened to you. His white feathered wing burst from his back and he rocketed down the street.

"I bet you'll be excited to know that we have your little girlfriend," Continued the thug. Angeal's breath hitched at these words, but he continued speeding onward. "If you want her back, you'll meet us by the old warehouse in the Sector 8 slums. You come alone. Bring anyone with you, and we'll kill the bitch." The thug then laughed and hung up.

Angeal's heart throbbed in his ears as he raced towards the location the thug had described. He didn't care what he was running into, saving you took top priority. He was a S.O.L.D.I.E.R. anyway, a few punks meant nothing to him. He soon landed in front of the warehouse, finding it to be dirty and decrepit, though that was hardly a surprise. As he approached the door, shock and panic overcame him, for on it hung a note with the words "Fooled ya!" Scrawled on it. Angeal stared at the note and knew what it meant: He'd been tricked.

"Y/n!" He shouted, literally ripping aside the door. "Y/n, where are you?!" It wasn't until he heard a weak voice call out his name--your voice.

"Angeal...."

Internally panicking, Angeal followed the sound of that tiny voice to a stack of steel boxes supposedly filled with sand in orderto make them difficult to move. Adrenaline fueling him, Angeal threw the boxes aside, revealing the bleeding, bound woman behind them.

"Y/N!" He shouted, dropping to the floor and hastening to undo your binds. When you didn't respond, he shook your shoulder gently. "Y/N...look at me, please."

Your eyes drifted in the direction of his voice; glassy and dull.

"Angeal....that you? I...I can't see...it's so dark..." Angeal pressed you closer to his body, tears starting to run down his cheeks.

"Shh, save your strength. I'm here. I'll get you help." Wearily, you reached out a blood-soaked hand, struggling to close it around his large forearm.

"I...I...just wanna tell you..." You paused to slowly take in a deep, agonizing breath. You felt so unbelievably winded, as if you'd just run a marathon even though you hadn't done anything. You were aware of the cause of this--the bullet wound that burned and ached in your lower abdomen, as well as the river of blood that bled out from it.

"Y/N, please..." Angeal begged, clasping you so tightly, it hurt. "You cannot die. I-I promised you...." A weak, soft, barely noticeable smile crept across your face.

"I want...you...to know I...love...you...Angie..." You tried to hang on, but you felt so, so, tired. Your breath left your body in a long, slow exhale, feeling the pressure and pain coursing throughout your body slowly dissipate as you did so. The last things you heard were Angeal's stifled sobs as he clutched your corpse to his chest.

The man who had once promised to keep you safe now held your dead body in his arms, crying over it because he failed.

#Ff7 #Ffvii #Final fantasy 7 #Final fantasy vii #Ff7 angel #Ffvii angeal #final fantasy 7 angeal #Final fantasy vii angeal #angeal x reader #Ff7 angeal x reader #Ffvii angeal x reader #Angst #Sad #Tw: death #tw: blood #tw: dead body #Tw: brief mention of guns #Fanfic #Angst fanfic #Sad fanfic #icycoldninja writes #Ff7 angst #Ff7 angeal x reader angst #angeal hewley #angeal hewley x reader

[orbmanson7]

What do Herbert's experiments represent?

In Bride of Re-Animator, we see a variety of experiments Herbert has created, outside of his initial work in reanimating corpses, and there are a few separate moments where we see the actual process of these experiments in action. Surely these experiments have some kind of meaning to them, right?

But what could that meaning be?

First, let's talk about the finger-puppy or eye creature, whatever you wanna call it... I like to call it finger-puppy.

Finger-puppy consists of five fingers and an eyeball that Herbert likely acquired from the hospital they work at. He unveils these laid out pieces to Dan, excitedly showing him as he assembles the pieces together and uses his reagent to bring it to life.

I think it's important to note Herbert's demeanor here in this scene. First, he is excited and eager to share this with Dan. So much so that he lays everything out like a presentation, neatly organized and ready for assembly. He had intended to show this to Dan, he had planned this moment out.

But throughout this part of the scene, he is mostly focused on the task at hand and not what Dan is trying to talk to him about.

Everything leading up to this moment also indicates to us that Herbert is in good spirits, he seems happy and content. He spooks Dan from behind the wall and laughs, he excitedly explains how they practically share a wall with an old crypt in the cemetery, and even when Dan stops him to talk (to ask what he did with the last cadaver, to which he simply says he was 'finished with it'), he determinedly shows off the progress he's made on their 'work', and then ends on displaying and constructing his finger-puppy experiment in front of Dan... which then prompts Dan to finally drop the ball about how he wants to move out, and Herbert looks up at him, confused. When Dan reiterates his statement, Herbert loses any excitement and happiness that was present just moments before, now seeming upset.

This is a great scene to show that Herbert has been content and satisfied with their work lately, but also that his focus has been so primarily on that work that he's been neglecting Dan's concerns and needs. He's also still using misdirection when Dan asks him questions, manipulating him by bringing Dan's attention back to their work so he doesn't have to explain himself about the cadaver or why they would need to block the hole in the wall.

Dan isn't stupid, so even if he has gotten caught up in the moment by what Herbert's doing in the past, he likely realizes later that he didn't get his answers and that he'd gone back at square one in trying to address things. In this particular instance, Herbert's misdirection doesn't work, that's why Dan is able to relay information Herbert is stating right back to him, because he's heard it before and understands it. He's not fooled this time, and is determined to just get to the point of telling Herbert that he wants to move out.

And this scene really set all that up perfectly, ending it off with Herbert's newest experiment, through bringing life to mere parts, hence the finger-puppy.

While I don't think this is the first time he's done this kind of experiment (he'd been collecting parts before this, after all, and also purposefully lied about why they needed to block the wall to the crypt), it's important to note that he is presenting it to Dan here and wants to see what he makes of it. Not just the finished product but the entire process, how he constructs it, applying the reagent, and then watching it come to life.

This seems to be something he wants to share with Dan specifically, whatever the experiment itself represents for him.

Now, fast forward to his other experiment where he connects a leg to an arm. The scene makes it clear that the experiment itself isn't as important as Herbert's motivation for conducting it.

In this moment, Herbert has been left in the basement alone after working with Dan because the doorbell rang and Dan went to answer it. Dan had forgotten he'd invited Francesca over for a date and they would be cooking and eating a meal together, so he stopped his work with Herbert to go enjoy his time with Francesca.

Herbert is clearly shown to not appreciate this, as the scene starts with him frustrated and annoyed, seemingly unable to focus on whatever work he's doing. He doesn't like that Dan's attention was taken away from their work and now that he's stuck down there, he has the thought to connect these two parts together, seemingly on a whim.

Throughout this experiment, he consistently stops to look up at the ceiling, indicating he's extremely aware of Dan's activities upstairs.

What's also interesting is that, unlike the finger-puppy, this leg-arm experiment is not given much focus from him at all. He's very distracted by what he is assuming of Dan's activities upstairs (which he obviously can't see or hear from where he is in the basement, but he can guess pretty easily). This lack of focus shows that this experiment has absolutely nothing to do with his work, it's not really about creating life at all, it's meant to be a distraction from how he feels about what Dan's doing without him. He also goes from tinkering about with the experiment to aggressively pouring the reagent on the combined body parts, the aggression matching his growing annoyance at Dan's behavior upstairs.

And after Herbert completes the leg-arm experiment and it retaliates against him, he immediately shoves it into a biohazard bag and tosses it into the crypt to get rid of it.

We see later on in the film that he must have been doing this kind of thing a lot because the crypt is full of these experiments, these bizarre amalgamations of parts. And considering his insistence on moving the metal cabinet in front of the loose bricks to the crypt that he was purposefully using to dump these experiments, it also means he's hiding these experiments and wants very little to do with them.

And also considering he showed Dan the first one he made, this means that the rest of these experiments are specifically being hidden from Dan.

So what does that say about the first experiment, the finger-puppy? Why was it so different from the others? If the leg-arm was merely a distraction to avoid his feelings in the moment, and he's purposefully hiding this from Dan, then what does that mean?

Well, not counting the finger-puppy, he's been hiding these experiments, and hiding implies shame. He's not proud of this particular work, it doesn't technically add to the overall work they're doing (it's something superfluous) and it was initially something he was happy with until Dan showed distaste for it and then almost got them in trouble with a cop. So it needs to be kept hidden so they're not both seen as suspicious, but Dan already knew about the first experiment, so he doesn't need to hide it from Dan.

And yet, Herbert doesn't want him to know about the other experiments. He can't let Dan see evidence of these experiments lying around with their shared work, so he hides it in the crypt, and this is either because he doesn't want Dan to be disgusted again or because he doesn't want to bother him with it.

This puts a whole new perspective on what these experiments represent, because Herbert's actions regarding them are always specifically about Dan. The first one, he shared with Dan excitedly, the next one, he was jealous about Dan leaving to spend time with someone else, and after that, he apparently added a human arm to Francesca's dog for some fucking reason, likely as a thoughtless retribution of sorts considering Dan and Francesca spent the night together. All these other experiments are hidden away from Dan, meaning they occurred when Dan wasn't around, which further implies their existence stems from Dan's absence, and especially in Herbert's feelings about Dan.

A very long-winded way of saying it, but, yes, I think these experiments are a representation of Herbert's romantic feelings and interest towards Dan. It's why he's so excited to show him at first, why he's upset that Dan is bothered by them once he knows about them, why he's so quick to hide them afterward, why he gets angry when they retaliate against him, and why he calls them "rejects" and mistakes. He's ashamed that he has them at all, despite the fact that he can't seem to stop himself from making them (and also never chooses to kill them, he just hides them away instead).

And coming back to finger-puppy again, it's interesting to note the natural curiosity and slight mischievousness that's very prominent in this little creature. It seems to want to wander and explore, something very different from the other experiments who seem to want to attack Herbert directly.

Maybe it's because it's so small in comparison and therefore mostly harmless, but finger-puppy seems to represent a more hopeful and positive concept than the other experiments. And if these experiments are representations of Herbert's feelings for Dan, well this little finger-puppy could probably be compared to a crush, or the initial spark of romantic interest, something small and simple that doesn't mean any ill-will.

But Dan rejects it outright and calls it "morbid doodling" when he sees it. And then, immediately after, he tries to shoo it away and get rid of it when the cop shows up at their house. Dan himself has to act suspicious to try to keep the cop from noticing this thing running around wherever it damn well pleases, and eventually Herbert picks up the book the cop slammed down on top of the creature to see that it had been crushed to death.

Hell of a way to show that someone's hopes were dashed.

So if Herbert then keeps up these experiments afterward, not really focused or thinking about them as they happen, and then wants to remove and hide them once they've come to life, it could imply these experiments are coming from his own emotions bubbling over, combined with carelessness and whims that match those emotions, all things that have no place in their work in reanimation, and yet he can't seem to stop himself from making them. The more they keep popping up, the more he has to hide them, after all, so why not just stop making them...unless he can't?

Working under this assumption, this could mean that these feelings for Dan refuse to go away and also that Herbert doesn't exactly hate them (or that he doesn't want to outright kill them), but he still sees their existence as a mistake. He doesn't want these feelings because Dan didn't want them from him and they don't actually contribute to their work anyway, right? He believes the science should be more important, so why does he keep coming back to these pointless experiments unless he can't help it? After all, it's not like you can just will emotions and feelings to go away if you don't want them. It just doesn't work like that.

And, of course, this all eventually culminates in the whole lot of Herbert's experiments getting out. Notice that the scene in which these experiments get free and attack (mostly) Herbert only happens after Dan rejects the Bride that he and Herbert worked on together throughout the film.

It's not until after the Bride starts to come apart that Herbert's experiments get loose and shit really hits the fan. Despite thinking he could be proud of their work in creating the Bride, once Dan rejects it and calls her a monster, Herbert is quick to agree that she's just a bunch of parts.

But...well, so were all his experiments this whole time, right?

The only difference was that this one was supposed to work - this one was supposed to appeal directly to Dan, to give him what he wanted. But, in the end, he said he didn't want her, and that likely means that he couldn't accept what Herbert could give him, either.

It's been said before, so this isn't a new concept, but the Bride being Herbert's way of expressing his feelings for Dan makes a lot of sense. And alongside my theory here, I think the Bride really was one big, intentional experiment, and maybe leans to why Herbert takes so much ownership of her ("I made you!") up until the moment that Dan rejects her.

Dan's reason for rejecting her simply being that she's "not Meg" also doesn't bode well for Herbert, either. He can't be what Dan wants, so nothing he does will ever work to change that.

Harkening back to the scene near the beginning of the movie, where he asks Dan what it was he loved about Meg, this ending moment shows that it didn't matter what parts Herbert tried to use or recreate, he could never give him Meg back and he could never be her for him.

And it's a sad ending to the movie, emphasized by Herbert's experiments all attacking him at once, as though knowing he can't escape them, falling to the consequence of those actions. Sad, but telling, because if those experiments represent his feelings for Dan, then that's a hell of a way to go out, succumbing to those emotions.

All in all, I think it makes sense to interpret Herbert's experiments throughout Bride of Re-Animator as a representation of his romantic feelings for Dan, and that the creation of the Bride itself was a genuine attempt for Herbert to appeal to Dan in that way.

The Bride's sole focus on Dan appealed to what he wanted, what Herbert wasn't giving him before. The desperate scream of asking Dan "then what do you want?" certainly lines up with Herbert's misunderstanding of their situation, not understanding why his methods didn't work. And going so far as to pull her heart - Meg's heart - out of her chest and offering it to Dan, paralleling Herbert's actions earlier in the film, can be seen as Herbert's efforts to do so much of this for Dan and it all going to waste, simply because the Bride - and Herbert - cannot be Meg for him.

#bride of reanimator #reanimator #reanimator analysis #herbert west #dan cain #long post #how do i tag this omg #gif #blood #body horror #gore #death #violence #a brief mention of animal death #uhhhh #flashing lights #anyway yeah maybe i should've touched on how this definitely makes it seem very canon that herbert is asexual as well #but that's already basically canon so i guess there's very little point in going into it here

[lanayru-the-water-god]

After healing

Lanayru wakes up slowly, the weakest she’s ever been, but still realizes that Nerin isn’t quite right. Something happened…and Nerin won’t tell her.

(Lanayru is ~900 years old)

Word count: 1301

“…..ru?”

“…wait…takes a minute…”

“Lanayru?”

Slowly, the first feelings of consciousness emerge from the peaceful dark void.

“Lanayru.”

The Water Goddess groans, stirring only slightly.

“Shh…give her a minute…”

“Are you with me?”

…Nerin?

The black void begins to dissipate, pieces of awareness floating into her mind. Lanayru groans again, eyes too heavy to open and body melting into a soft surface…Where’s Nerin?

“….she’s coming around.”

Huh?

Who’s…that?

Her hands are cold, so cold, tucked under something warm and fluffy…her entire body seems to be covered. Almost like…a blanket.

Something, or someone, is pressing down on her chest, moving softly. Cool hands touch her face, making her wince, and she takes in a slow breath.

“Hrrmphhh…” With what little energy she can muster, she peels her eyelids open halfway, lifting her head only slightly. Through bleary eyes she can make out an incredibly blurry mass of white atop her blanket. “Wha…?”

“Lanayru!” The white shape moves suddenly, making her head spin. “Hi, waterdrop! Can you hear me?”

“Mmm…” She rests her head back down, closing her eyes. “…yeah.”

“Oh, thank goodness! It is so good to see you, my darling.” The pure relief is evident in Nerin’s voice…telling her something has happened. Her friend had been waiting.

“Lanayru, welcome back.” The other voice is speaking now. “It’s me, Starlight. Just relax, okay? Take it easy.”

Another groan escapes her lips, and she can no longer feel Nerin’s weight on her chest. It’s just the three of them, right here, in what she assumes is her bedroom…everything before that is…gone.

“What…happened?”

Nerin takes a second to answer.

“You don’t remember, waterdrop?” A hand nudges on her shoulder. “Come on, look at me.”

It takes an immense amount of effort to open her eyes, her blurry vision swimming, but she can see the outlines of her best friend standing above her.

“Here, what’s the last thing you can recall?”

Lanayru gazes blearily at Nerin, growing ever more fatigued from the attempt to think…

Nothing.

Nothing is coming to mind.

“I…” she croaks. “I don’t—“

“There has to be something! Please think, waterdrop!”

“Nerin, darling,” Starlight’s calm voice interjects. “I am afraid Lanayru’s memory has been compromised. You must tell her what happened.”

“No…no, I-I can’t…”

“She deserves to know. Please.”

Wh-what’s going on?

Something horrible must have happened. If only she could remember what…

“Lanayru?” A soft hand touches her chin, turning her head on the pillow. “No, don’t fall asleep, come on—“

Slowly she peels her eyes back open- when had she closed them?- and her gaze is once again met with Nerin’s blurry figure. From what little she can make out of her friend’s face, something stands out to her, something running down her cheeks…

Tears.

Nerin is crying.

“Hmmm….you’ok?” she slurs out, the deep exhaustion still evident in her voice.

“Am I—Lanayru!” Nerin gasps. “Look at me…look at you! Please…try to remember?”

She wants to remember, more than anything…but oh Gods, her fuzzy brain won’t comprehend.

“…‘can’t…’m sorry.”

Somehow, Nerin won’t tell her. It’s almost as if her friend is…dreading the thought of it? Her head pounds slightly and her weak body threatens to drift off once again…Stay awake, Lanayru. She keeps her bleary eyes open, heart aching at the sight of Nerin in such distress.

“Okay,” The Swan Goddess sighs, wiping the tears with her hand. “RuRu, you saved my maiden’s life. Ivory would have… died if it wasn’t for you, waterdrop, but you’ve been gone for…” She sniffles. “…a long time.”

“Thirty-five days,” Starlight adds. “Four less than last time, but your Swan Goddess couldn’t wait. She was desperate, she’s been waiting here for days—“

Nerin holds up a hand. “That’s enough, please, don’t overwhelm her.” She then moves her delicate fingers to Lanayru’s forehead. “Now, anything coming back to you yet?”

Lanayru racks her muddled brain, things sounding so familiar…you saved my maiden’s life…Ivory…thirty-five days…last time? Whatever she had done, it happened before, but what…

In front of her, a hazy image appears. Her body glowing white, the life seeping out of her, a woman’s pale form lying on the ground…

Healing Grace!

Lanayru lets out a quiet gasp.

“I…healed her,” she chokes out, and Nerin lifts the hand off. “…Iv’ry.”

“There you go, that’s it!” The Swan Goddess sighs, in what seems to be relief. “You just finished recharging, waterdrop. I know you’re still out of it, but I’m here, Starlight’s here…you’re gonna be okay, you’re back with us. With me.”

Lanayru blinks, as her companion’s face comes more into focus. “Mrmmph…” she mumbles, keeping the warm blanket over her ice-cold fingertips.

“How are you feeling, Lanie? Do you need anything?”

“…’m tired…” The image of a bleeding Ivory drifts through her mind again, the last thing she can remember. “…’s Iv’ry ok?”

“Yeah, she’s doing much better,” Nerin replies, smiling through the tears. “Back on her feet and fully recovered. Thanks to you, waterdrop.”

“But…you lost me…”

“Yes.” Another tear runs down her friend’s cheek. “It was a horrible situation, Lanayru, trust me that you did the right thing. No matter how hard it was for us.”

The Water Goddess groans again. She doesn’t know if it’s the exhaustion talking, but Nerin just seems…off. Almost like she’s hiding something.

Healing Ivory must have killed her. It had to…right? And Nerin’s tears are not of joy but of agony. Something happened. Something else happened…

Was she there?

Did she…

Lanayru whimpers, vision continuing to clear. The look on her friend’s face is enough to break her heart right in two. She almost wishes she was still unconscious.

“Hey, are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“I-ugh, I…don’t know.” The more she tries to gather fragments of her memory, the more her head spins. “Y-you’re upset…”

“I’m sorry,” Nerin mutters, quickly wiping her eyes with one arm. “I shouldn’t overwhelm you, Lanayru. You’re still so weak, and chances are you won’t remember this conversation later. That happened last time—“ The Swan Goddess briefly buries her face in her hands. “Argh, I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay, Lady Nerin,” Starlight assures her. “And Lana, your friend is right. You should just focus on resting…I should have considered how you may not recall much of this, my apologies.”

Ignoring the Dweller’s comment, the Water Goddess continues to gaze at her companion with tired eyes.

“Lil’one…if I won’t remember this…then—tell me what’s wrong.”

“Lanayru, I can’t. It will upset you too much. Just listen to Starlight, okay? The sooner you recover, the sooner we can get this all sorted out.”

“But…’m recovered…”

“No, you are not.” Nerin’s voice is surprisingly firm. “You’re fighting just to stay conscious, I can tell. You are too weak to even sit up, waterdrop. So I would hardly call that recovered.”

Lanayru sighs, her heavy eyes drooping again. If Nerin really was there, then—

She thinks back to her friend’s head on her chest, and her own heart sinks.

Then Nerin saw me…stop breathing.

“Urrgh…’m so sorry, lil’one…” she groans, rubbing her pounding head. “So sorry…”

“For what? Oh, Goddesses—“

The darkness begins to welcome her with open arms…

“Lanayru?”

Slowly she blinks her eyes back open. “Hmm?”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Ivory is okay, I’m okay…soon you’ll be okay too. You saved her, waterdrop, never forget that.”

“Nerin…were you there?”

The Swan Goddess falls silent, eyes widening. She seems to be struggling to respond, but that is all Lanayru needs. The answer is finally clear.

“You watched me…”

“Shh…relax, waterdrop.” Nerin gently soothes her. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

No…

I died and she watched me.

Floating on the edge of the comforting darkness, Lanayru feels the sharp pang of guilt in her chest, taking over her senses…

“You can go back to sleep, okay? I’ll be right here.”

#the goddess lanayru #bailey writes #nerin the swan goddess (by the amazing trippy!) #ivory the swan maiden (also by trippy) #<- only mentioned #lanayru ✨suffers✨ in this one #nerin suffers #everyone suffers :) #dweller starlight (they/them) #tw temporary death #tw (very brief) blood mention

[orbitfalls]

Hello! I’m a new follower but I would love to hear more about how you view walaburga (I never know how to spell her name). I don’t often see her written as a complex character so that sounds super interesting!!

Hi love, welcome to my blog<33 if there's one single person out there i'm ALWAYS ready to talk about then it's the loml Walburga Black so buckle up!!!!!!

I'm very much with you on that she's rarely depicted as a complex character, which, sure enough, is certainly partly bc she's a horrible person, but robbing her of all complexity simply for the crime of being a bad mother doesn't sit right with me and never has... i feel like there's a lot of depth and anger and fear to be explored in her as a woman raised in a victorian-resembling patriarchal family and forced to marry- and have children with her own cousin. To me, she was - like most abusers - a victim first, and an abuser as a consequence of being so undone by trauma that she's unable to overcome centuries and centuries of generational trauma.

Okay to maintain structure in the rambles here comes some hcs of mine:

the way i view her, i think it makes a lot of sense that her control issues stem from experiencing sexual abuse throughout her childhood

due to this, she's very wary of people having power over her, and her greed for power - as well as her need to assert her power over her children, sirius in particular - is above all else a (deeply twisted obv) way of protecting herself

i think her and bella share some VERY fundamental similarities, HOWEVER the major difference, to me, is that walburga has the mind of a ruler whereas bellatrix will forever be a soldier

walburga's the oldest sister, she's incredibly protective of Alphard and cygnus, however her definition of protecting someone isn't always particularly in line with everyone else's

she's literally the tiniest little medieval princess-type of beauty, yet simultaneously the most absolutely loaded powerhouse of magic seen in a long fucking while in the history of magic

the point above is a well-known but rather shushed upon topic within the pureblood families due to her being the housewife of Orion, who's the real heir, and god forbid a woman outdoes the heir lmao

in relation to that, no one fucks with her. like genuinely, no one ever out right admits the terror she evokes in the pureblood ranks, but boy oh boy.

mountain lion patronus. no one talk to me okay this one's dear to me idk. this one i can't explain without frantically typing out a 2k analyzing essay that i'll spare you from tho ssjdjsjdh<33

ANYWAY if youre interested in walburga as a complex character with plenty of depths to explore (very dark ones tho, so tw!!!!), then she's one of the main characters of my black family character study Ultraviolence, in which all of the hcs above play a major role in her character and her relation to her brothers, children and husband<33 (not to mention to the black sisters, bella in particular!!)

#THANK YOU FOR THE ASK FOR THE RECORD I LOOOOVE YAPPING #walburga black the loml the absolute love!!!! of my life!!!!!!!!! #ultraviolence tag #walburga black #tw sa mention #you: asking a brief politely intrigued question #me - panting: *desperately hands you a crumbled old piece of paper full of frantic scribbles and blood stains in the corner* the loml

[odette-abbott]

and enter wonderland... (self para - odette abbott)

she had ben enamoured with the flower festival. each of the displays proudly beaming with colours, the flowers in full bloom out in the daylight. it had been a lovely day of getting to catch up with people and taking a day to enjoy what the town had to offer.

odette gathered with the crowd when the winners of the flower royalty was due to be announced, however something had caught a flash of something at the corner of her eye briefly. shrugging it off, she tried to focus back on the announcement but it then she saw it again. knowing it was going to annoy her now that she noticed it, odette weaved her way through the townsfolk and found herself at the edge away from the group and it allowed her to finally answer her question of what did she see.

it was a hare.

curiouser and curiouser!

she couldn't let a hare pass the commune by, not when she was this close to being able to grab him. she waited until the hare had came to halt and she took the opportunity to creep forward as quietly as she could, careful to not spook it.

it was so close. just within reach. almost there.

odette lurched forward to catch the animal but it had just managed to slip from her grasp. with her judgement clouded by the desire and determination to catch the hare, she blindly followed after it into the woods. the deeper the hare went into the forest, odette followed and she soon found herself in the middle of nowhere with the sudden realisation that it was going to be dark soon and she had no strategy to get back to town on time. even if she did, it was highly likely that she wouldn't make it. even as a hunter, she was in a part of the woods she didn't recognise. panic had started to set, she reminded herself to keep calm.

"shit"

as if to taunt her even more, the hare had stopped right in front of her. the crossroads between turning back or grabbing the hare. against her better judgement for the second time today, odette pressed on and went to grab the hare but before she could grab it, it had darted into a hole in a tree.

it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!

nightfall loomed over and the idea of the hare became far less appealing than it did five minutes ago. in a split decision, odette had the idea of hiding in the tree and waiting it out in hopes to survive the night. with no other choice she followed the hare into their bunker for the night.

odette entered the tree and there was no hare. but there was no other exit, she was sure of it. right? she shuffled as far into the tree as she could, but the tree bark suddenly didn't feel like bark anymore. was that metal? it was metal and the space felt smaller than it did when she entered. it felt tighter, narrow, claustrophobic. a dire fear of small spaces had the panic kick her adrenaline into overdrive and her breath became ragged. what the hell was happening? where was she? and where did that bloody hare go? she wriggled and clawed her way forward, fingernails scraping at the metal until she reached a dead end.

"nonononono"

she frantically slammed her hands on the metal grate, again and again with no use. noises were going on around her, they felt like they were getting closer. paranoia was kicking in. her hands raw and bloody from hitting the grate, she mustered up all the energy she could find and gave it one last smack, leaving the metal swinging open and odette to break down in tears in triumph. she gripped the edges of the grate, yanked herself forward and she tumbled into a heap on the floor with her dress in tatters.

desperately gasping for air, she let out a cry of relief and hauled herself up to sit and gather her bearings. old beer barrels and wine bottles? wait, that can't be right. she was in a tree and now she's here? how the hell did she get here? looking up she realised that she had crawled from a vent. how the hell did she go from the woods, to a tree, to a vent, to what looks like a basement?

"what the fuck?" she mumbled to herself through her tears.

odette clambered to her feet and dusted herself off. bounding forward to a door when she noticed it, she practically ripped it off its hinges, begging for this ordeal to be over. finding her way to some stairs, she climbed her way up and pushed open the hatch above her head. odette once again climbed through, slamming the hatch closed to keep out any unwanted additions to the already confusing time she was having and she found herself standing behind the bar of the empty bar the sasquatch.

odette was baffled at what she had just experienced. she was still considering the possibility that it was some sort of fever dream. maybe there was a flower at the festival that caused some hallucination? that was logical and sane and not at all crazy, right? and for a moment there she almost convinced herself that that was the case, but then she looked down at her dress and saw it shredded to oblivion. unable to contain it anymore, odette stood shaking on the spot full of pent up emotions that hadn't been relieved yet and she did what anyone would do, she screamed.

"what the fuck?!"

i could tell you my adventures–beginning from this morning, but it’s no use going back to yesterday, because i was a different person then.

#huntsvilleevent02 #event: flower festival #and into wonderland - self para #headcanon #huntsvilleplotdrop #huntsvilleplotdrop2 #brief blood mention tw #claustrophobia mention tw

[tj-crochets]

A series of events: 1. I unloaded the dishwasher and danced around the kitchen (putting dishes away is just more fun with good dancing music) 2. I sat back down at my desk, and my blood pressure was a little high, so I took my temperature (because my weird health issues mean being cold can raise my blood pressure a bit but so can allergies, so I have to check in case I need a benadryl) 3. the thermometer (one of those touchless forehead ones) said I had a fever 4. I called my dad and was like “oh no, should I take a covid test?” 5. I remembered I’d just finished unloading the dishwasher, which was still very hot when I opened it 6. I took off my glasses and took my temperature again. No fever! 7. the steam from the dishwasher made my glasses hot enough the thermometer thought I had a fever 

#the person behind the yarn #medical mention #covid mention #I did not actually have covid I just thought for a brief moment I might have #my blood pressure is fine now I just raised my heart rate dancing and for once that actually raised my blood pressure #which is a good thing! that's what's supposed to happen! it just usually doesn't for me #(all of that is very simplified do not take it as medical advice) #(I know my medical issues are weird but I genuinely don't know HOW weird so idk what baseline info about stuff like this is) #(except that people without my health issues absolutely should not eat as much salt as I do. That one I'm confident on)

[newts-and-sharks]

ok, so i decided to post what i had for modern noodles here, its unfinished and kinda cliff hangs, but im not really feeling up to finishing this :/

starts under cut :P

Well, this was…unexpected.

One second, you were just sipping on some water, enjoying the beautiful scenery that was your backyard that you had put so much blood, sweat, and tears into. Quite literally, too. It was a long and very painful process to get your yard into the pristine condition it’s in.

Or it was in.

Before some sort of meteor crash landed into the yard in a fiery blaze, leaving a good sized crater in the middle of it.

Now, here you are, trying to put out a multitude of white glittery flames that had made their homes in the willow tree and among the grass with only the old, dusty gardening hose you had. 

Great.

Not like you spent months, almost a year, making this yard the best looking damn yard on this whole shit show of a planet. Not like you have spent well over a reasonable amount of money on this small sliver of land. Not like you didn't toil tirelessly for months on end, landscaping under the sun, only for it to become carved out and set ablaze by this mystery aerial projectile.

Well, to be fair, it has been set on fire once or twice in the past, but that was because you had accidentally walked in on the pygmy drakes that had made their home under your shed. You’ve tried removing them, but that turned out not so well, so now you have some story time scars and new scaly neighbors that you feed from time to time.

But you have never seen fire like this. Usually fire is a shade of yellow, orange, or red. This fire was a platinum white, emitting yellow and blue smoke that would fade into the darkening night sky. Definitely strange, and definitely required some research later, but right now you have to get this fire out.

You were spraying furiously at the flames, and soon all of the flames had died down. You breathed heavily, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins as your hands shakily put the hose down and glared at the damage.

Well, the wyvern nest in the willow tree was safe at least. The tree was the first thing you saved from the flames, specifically because those wyvern eggs still had yet to hatch. Plus, that tree was still fairly young, and you were planning on having it around for a few more years at least.

A few branches were understandably burnt, some more than others- but that just meant you had to prune away the dead ends. Not too bad. The lawn however, had bald spots here and there, not to mention the large crater right in the middle. The pond was fine, it didn't look like it took any damage. But you could say goodbye to the Begonia, Lily of the Valley, and Dahlia flowers.

You sprinted over and salvaged as many bulbs as you could, and tried to find a few pips from the Lily of the Valley. You swiftly deposit them in a nearby bucket, and make a mental note to rip the charred and damaged flowers and stems from the ground sometime tomorrow.

You turn back around to deal with the crater in the center of your yard. The impact had sprayed dirt everywhere, as well as sent a few good sized rocks through the fence. You walk over to the dent in the ground, sighing in exasperation, only to jump when you see what was in the crater.

You quickly run to the shed, swinging the door open, ignoring the hissing drakes, grabbing your trusty shovel (and narrowly avoiding a bite from a particularly grumpy drake), and sprint back to the hole.

Brandishing the shovel, you experimentally and slowly dip the shovel inside and give a quick jab, pulling back just as quickly. The lump of…whatever that is, twitched, so it was reacting to external stimulation. That meant it was alive-

You try to wave away the smoke that was constantly pouring out of the crater, giving you more of a chance to actually see what you were doing. If there was a chance that whatever crashed into your yard was alive, you were going to try and bring it back to health. Yeah, it fucked up all your hard work, but just letting something die over that would be fucked up, too.

You gently prod around, carefully watching the formless shape for any negative reactions before scooping it out and gently laying it on the ground.

Well.

You were not expecting this.

In front of you were two oriental dragons. You thought those guys went extinct a long time ago, but maybe you were wrong-? There was a fluffy yellow one that appeared to have a crown of horns and a plated stomach, and dark blue-ish and white one with deer antlers and a glowing bulb at the end of its tail. Both of them had complex patterns of fur and scales, more complex than any other dragon you’ve ever seen. The most interesting thing about them was the area on their necks that appeared to be rubbed raw, like they had worn a collar that was way too tight for way too long. They looked almost sickly, skinny enough to see their bones, and they also appeared as though  they hadn't slept well  in about ten years. And they were so tiny, about the length of a small belt-

A sharp growl sounded from the tree. When you turned to look, you assumed that the wyvern would be growling at you, given that there was a fire and you were spraying water everywhere like a mad man. It was a stressor and you were the only human around, and you were directly involved. Of course the locals would be pissed. However, she wasn't looking at you-

She was staring, growling, and hissing at the two noodles in front of you.

“Hey, knock it off Becky, I'm trying to get them out of your feathers for you!”

More hissing, this time it was aimed at you.

“Hey hey hey! What did I just say? I am literally trying to get them out and away-” Geez, wyverns take ‘territorial’ to a whole new level. Becky’s partner, who you have dubbed Ron, poked his head out and started hissing too. You threw your hands up in the air in defeat. Why were you trying to reason with these flying lizard chickens. They can't understand you. 

You step away from the dragons and quickly grab the nearby bucket, dumping out all the bulbs and pips inside. Once you return, you scoop them into the bucket as gently as you can. Any harsh or brash movements might injure these two even more than they likely are. 

As you reach the back door, the wyvern couple give one more indignant screech, to which you give them a little bird over your shoulder. Even if they don't understand it, you feel a little less peeved off at them and their bad attitudes.

Once inside, you quickly get to work. You grab a few rags, a pair of towels, and make your way to the bathroom. You set the bucket down on the tiled floor and turn on the bath water. You're not exactly sure what you are doing, but you had to nurse an injured wyrm once, and these two looked kind of similar. Just cross your fingers and pray to the medicinal gods that you can do this.

You turn off the water once it is enough and carefully- CAREFULLY- pick up the yellow one, and very gingerly lower it into the shallow water. You did the same for the darker one, watching for any signs of obvious discomfort or pain. Their breathing was quick and shallow, which meant you had to act fast. 

Once they had been placed in the tub, you took one of the rags and dipped it in the water. Gently, you cup the face of the golden serpent and wipe away the dark blood from the wounds you could see, but…

It looked like he had healed a little bit, like he had had these wounds for a few days now. Did he- or maybe even both of them- have fast self healing properties? You would have to pin that question for later, suddenly remembering that he could still get infected.

Quickly, you get back to work. His breathing was still ragged, but once he was clean, you laid him down on a nearby towel. You repeated this with his darker counterpart, noticing the awkward angle of one of his back legs. You would definitely have to fix that later. Even with self healing, if it was dislocated or broken, it could heal in the wrong way.

After you set him down on his own blanket, you drain the tub of the bloody water and initiate a health check. Usually, this was to deal with wyrms, lindwurms, and sea serpents, but again: you had no idea what to do. They aren't lindwurms, because those guys only have two front legs. These aren't wyrms, wyrms have no legs. And that goes for the sea serpents, too. So, this was entirely new to you.

For once, you are very glad that you grew up with two dragon vets for mothers. You could hear your Ma’s voice as you inspected the two:

‘First, check the head for any obvious signs of damage.’ Well, the blue one did have this sort of…weird thing going on with his face. Upon closer inspection, his face was half white and half dark blue. Nothing except some light scratches that seemed to have healed slightly, so it was safe to move on. Inspecting the golden one though, you notice a crack in one of his primary horns. It was small, but it might still ache when he awakes. You make a mental note to put some horn repairing ointment on it later. Neither of them seemed to be severely injured on the skin, so you moved on.

You check their eyes, pulling out a small flashlight from one of the nearby cabinets and gently prying their eyes open. The golden dragon's eyes were bloodshot and completely white. You could barely see the even paler pupil, and that was definitely cause for concern. You should take care of that first when you're done, but in the meantime you need to continue and make sure there was nothing else that required your attention first. When you checked his counterparts' eyes, it was a bit harder to tell. His eyes were a natural ruby red with a black sclera, so it was hard to spot any blood or cataracts. You couldn't check the dilation of the eyes for his friend, but this should be easier. After a quick check, his slitted eyes responded normally to the light.

Finally, you went on to the final step: ‘Gently feel along the body for any lumps, bumps, or any other abrasions.’ You could only feel a few bumps, and those you could feel were from their ribs, which you fully intended on giving these boys a proper meal after, and the area on their lower necks that had been slightly rubbed raw, and it hurt just to look at it. It was a miracle they survived that crash when they were already this unhealthy. Whoever they belonged to previously had clearly not cared about these dragons in a healthy way, if at all. It made you furious, if it had been any one else's yard they had crashed into, you aren't quite sure they would be exactly welcomed and taken care of the way you are currently doing so. Their current condition would have left them defenseless against drakes, wyverns, true dragons, anything really. A rather common thing you noticed on the pale dragon was a swelled pyro sac, the organ that produces flames. The not-so-common detail that you noticed was that an agitated pyro sac was usually warm, and glowed like an ember. However this one was rather cold, and while it was slightly swollen, it didn't glow at all.

Well, that absolutely mystifies you, and you’d have to check in with your mothers’ about that.

You were surprised to find no burn marks. The crater, including themselves, had been smoking, and the fire all around them should have at least given them heat burns. But their scales were just really dehydrated, which is a miracle given the circumstances. 

You reach into the cabinet under the sink and pull out the emergency first aid kit that your Ma gave you before you moved out. She insisted on it, saying that you would never know when you would have to take care of a dragon. Back then you were slightly exasperated, but now you were very grateful.

Aaaaaaaaand that’s all I got for Modern noodles, i got burnt out by the end and didn’t know where to take it, hence me writing swords and scales instead

#noodle au #dragon au #noodle moon #noodle sun #dragon moon #dragon sun #noodle sun n moon #dragon sun n moon #tw injury #tw brief mentions of blood

[journalofimprobablethings]

There was a conversation in the magnus writer's discord about Jon coming back to his office after being on the run and seeing the desk where Leitner was killed and it made me feel so many things I wrote 500 words about it.

--

Jon can feel the others watching him as he moves through the Archives to his office. It's ironic, given all he's learned recently about the entity they all apparently now serve, how intently he can feel all their eyes on him. Even without meaning to, it seems, they all feed the Beholding.

He doesn't look back, tries as best he can to keep his shoulders straight despite the pain in his leg and his hand and his throat. He can feel dried blood flaking off his neck but it is too late to change course now, to go to the washroom to clean up. He continues forward, and tries not to meet anyone's eyes.

His office door clicks shut behind him with a terrible finality, and Jon shudders at the sound. It reminds him too much of the sound of a lock clicking into place, trapping him inside.

He knows can leave the office, of course, physically. He can even leave the Archives; he can and should go back to Georgie's at some point, though he doesn't know what in the world he'll say to her.

But even if he leaves the building, he knows now that he will always come back here. To this office, to this desk and this chair, to the statements and the recorder sitting complacently on the desk, waiting.

He's trapped. They're all trapped, because of him, because of choices he made.

You sought knowledge relentlessly, and you always chose to see, Elias had said, and he's right. Jon has always been too stubborn for his own good, too focused on his need to understand, to know what is going on. 

And all that stubbornness has led him here, to this prison cell of an office, surrounded by people that he has damned.

Jon leans against the door, just barely managing to keep his legs from collapsing under him. He stares at his desk chair, but he makes no move to sit down.

He can't help noticing that it's the same desk. The same chair.

The last time he was here, Jurgen Leitner's battered corpse was sprawled across this desk, his blood and brains spattered all over the wall and the desktop and the floor. For a moment, the image is superimposed over the desk as he stares at it, and he can remember the smell, so clearly that for a second Jon thinks he might vomit. But he takes a deep breath and swallows it down. The movement hurts the cut on his throat, and he resists the urge to rub it.

When he blinks, the image of Leitner's body disappears, and the desk appears as it is now: clean, tidier than he's ever left it.

He wonders who cleaned it all up, after.

He wonders if anyone suggested that they replace the desk, or the chair. If Elias denied the request because of "budget cuts". If he really meant it, or if he wanted the desk and the chair to be there as a reminder to Jon of what happens to people who get in his way.

Would Elias ever kill him? he wonders. He seems to want to keep Jon here for now, seems invested in his "progress". Glad, in whatever twisted way he can be glad, that Jon has survived thus far.

He doesn't think that Elias will beat him to death with a pipe anytime soon.

He thinks Elias will wait to see if he destroys himself, first.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tma fanfic #tma s3 spoilers #tma spoilers #violence #death mention #gore #just a brief reference but to be safe #blood mention #hurt no comfort #listen i thought originally martin was going to come in and offer jon tea at the end of this but apparently not #no comfort for the archivist today #:(

[beerecordings]

Werewolf AU - Part 1

The hospital room is beeping too loud.

Everything is too loud, so loud, so high-pitched. He screams. Someone shoves him back against the bed, clutching his hand, pressing against his chest. They poke him with things. They smell. Everything smells. Too loud, so loud. Iodine, bleach, gauze, blood, his own blood, his skin, his hair, the wolf, the wolf that bit him, the nurses, the ER doctor he's supposed to know the name of, the resident who screamed when she realized it was him, the air outside, the air everywhere –

It smells. It's loud. It's so loud. He screams. He can't hear himself scream. Smells everything. It hurts.

“Henrik, Henrik.” The clear voice of a stranger tries to pierce through the haze, the nurse pressing him down as hard as he can. “You have to be calm. You have to. The doctor can't give you a stronger sedative, but we're going to take care of you.”

The blood is sticky on his skin. He sobs as a terribly unfamiliar sensation crawls along the inside of his mouth. His teeth hurt. His ears. His bleeding, torn shoulder. Hurts. It's so loud.

“Please help me,” he screams, knowing it's not quite English and not quite German, a mangled mess of a sentence filled with misplaced vowels and the spit drooling from his mouth. “Please help me, I don't want to die.”

“You're not going to die, Henrik.”

“I won't be myself,” he howls, the last rational thought cutting through his panic. “I won't be myself, please, please stop this, I don't want to die, I don't want to go away.”

“Where's the on-call rehabilitator? Sean, call Sean. Henrik, we're going to take good care of you.”

“No, no.” He doesn't know what he's saying no to. Doesn't know what's happening. It hurts. It's so loud. He thrashes and they pin him down, but it's a struggle for them, even though there's four of them and one of him. They can hardly keep him down. Being trapped beneath them hurts in a new and terrifying way he's never experienced. He's suffocating. He's bleeding out. It's so loud. He throws up on himself, too disoriented to feel it coming until he's already vomiting, and all he can do is sob and whimper, shaking and bleeding.

“Hey, man, hey. It'll be okay, bud. Look at you, poor thing.”

This voice is new. And the smell that comes with it is new too, pleasant and calm, somehow, shot through with sympathy and... coffee?

Coffee smell, with vanilla. He loves coffee. And something like fire, warm and comforting.

“Give the poor guy some more pain relief, doc, can't you see he's already halfway through his turn? The human drugs won't do you much good anymore, brother. We'll figure it out though, okay? Yeah.”

He hiccups a sob, tearing his wet eyes open as someone mops sick from his face with gentle white hands, laced in dark hair along the back. He coughs, inhaling the smell of the stranger, a low whine he's never heard before escaping his throat.

“Please, please, please,” he groans. “Please, please, it hurts.”

“We're going to get you some sleep, man. What's the name? Henrik? I'm going to stay with you, Henrik. We'll figure it out.”

“I'm changing,” he weeps. “Please, I – I don't want this, no – ”

“I know, I know,” whispers the stranger. “Oh, brother, I know. I'm so sorry. But all you can do right now is sleep. That's all. Sleep and heal. I will stay right here.”

Henrik reaches almost blindly towards the man, towards that sweet, hot coffee and flame smell, blood staining his trembling fingers. The man clasps his hand, tugging it to his chest, and holds on to him as something is injected in the tube on Henrik's left arm, something that makes his head go thick and dopey, his eyes sliding shut.

“Please, please, please,” he begs.

“I will stay right here,” promises the man, the werewolf, holding his hand. “You just gotta get some sleep. I'm sorry, brother. I'm sorry.”

It's so loud. It hurts. It hurts. Coffee and fire are his only comforts. He clutches the hand in his own with his last second of strength, and then, thank the Lord, he sleeps.

.

He fumes through the smell of blood still on his face, through his fingers changing to claws and back again, through a halfway shift Jackie has to pull him back from with shouting and snarls.

He fumes.

“You calm down,” Jackie snarls at him, shoving him back to the couch when he tries to rise for the tenth time. “You'll get in more trouble! I'm sick of bailing you out, Marv!”

“I don't give a damn,” he growls back, gripping his cousin's arms so tight he'll no doubt leave pockmarks in his hoodie sleeves. “They can't talk to me like that, like I'm an animal, like – ”

“You still can't make people think you'll bite their faces off!”

“They deserved it! They called me feral. I was just running!”

“You're always just running, and they always deserve it.”

Marvin snaps his teeth at Jackie so harshly he actually jerks back for a second, but Jackie's eyes narrow an instant later, and then he's in wolf form. They go crashing to the ground, Marvin struggling to hold his snapping teeth away from him, lacking the space to shift beneath Jackie's weight.

“Oh, and I'm the one out of control?” he hisses, baring his fangs at Jackie. Jackie shifts back to a man in a movement so fluid it almost makes Marvin nauseous, and then a wolf again. Okay, fine. So his control is impeccable.

“Show-off,” he growls.

Jackie circles him with a growl of his own, grabbing his shirt for a second just to drag him back towards the couch. Marvin snuffles, cowed for a minute, and snaps at the rug instead of the only friend who's still bothering to stick around.

Jackie's scent cools after a minute, always a little summery-hot, and sometimes buttery. Marvin sinks in on himself, exhausted, and lets himself shift into a wolf with blood still on his snout and side where the humans got a cut or two in.

Jackie rumbles at him and sits down at his side. Marvin lays his head down, fuming – but more quietly, now.

Fuck, he really does have to stop. And dragging himself to Jackie's... he shouldn't be tangling him up in his messes, but he doesn't really trust his own place, anymore. Not since the landlord found out what he was. He'd tried so hard to keep it secret.

He's so tired.

Jackie sets his chin on top of his head. Marvin huffs, settling down on his paws, and Jackie rumbles peacefully at him, forgiving him in a vibration of his throat. Somedays, Marvin thinks he understands Jackie better as a wolf than a man. Somedays, he thinks Jackie understands himself better that way too, and everyone else, for that matter. But Jackie's in control these days, so much more grown-up from the reckless kids they used to be, and while he was maturing, Marvin just... didn't.

That's how it feels, anyway. And now he's gotten in another stupid fight.

They did deserve it, though. Chucking rocks at him and laughing.

Feral bitch. You think anyone wants your kind in public? In the parks? Maybe this is the one who's been biting people out late at night. Fucking werewolf bitch. Give me the bottle, five points if you hit his head.

He just... lost his temper. Again.

Jackie gets off him after long minutes, slinking back towards the couch and taking his clothes into his mouth before ducking into the hallway to change. He comes back towards Marvin as a man, hands shoved in the pockets of that familiar red jacket, and smiles at him, gentler now.

“Get up, dude,” he sighs. “Let's get some sleep. It was rough, but... it's over now. We'll talk about it some more tomorrow.”

Marvin sighs, his body aching. Yeah. He wants to sleep. And Jackie's neighborhood has lots of wolves. No one will bother them here.

That's when he hears the sirens coming closer, and sees the red and blue lights flashing through Jackie's window, bright enough to hurt his tired eyes.

Oh, for fuck's sake. He should have kept his teeth beneath his lips, and his claws against the dirt.

Six days later, sitting in a courtroom and watching a human judge order him to goddamn werewolf rehabilitation like a fucking pup –

He fumes. He fumes. He fumes.

.

Our first class is July 1st, 6:00 PM, at my office. Come in through the green door on the side of the building by the grocer's. You don't need to bring anything except an ID for me to make a copy of. You are welcome to text me with any questions. See you there.

Okay. Alright. He can do this.

Chase reads through it again. Green door by the grocer's. That's where he is. Checks the time – 5:55. Perfect. Just as he planned. Just as he ran through it in his head all day long. He's not usually a particularly punctual guy, but this is important – and terrifying. This is worse than family court.

He never thought he'd be in this situation.

A shaky sigh slips out of him without his permission and he blinks hard, despairing to feel his eyes getting wet already. No, he can't do this. It's been four weeks since he was turned. He has to start adjusting to this. He just has to. For the kids.

As soon as his rehab – okay, both of his rehabs – are complete, he can see them. Unsupervised, at his own house. And maybe once he's got a hold on this, everyone will stop looking at him like they're horrified at what he's become.

Maybe he can stop seeing himself like he's horrified at what he's become.

There are tears dripping down his face. He's standing outside that green door, crying, gripping his phone in his hands like it's the only thing left that can save him from all of this. No one else is going to help him, after all. The way she looked at him when he accidentally snapped his teeth at her... he'll never forget that look for the rest of his life. The fear is so much worse than that exhaustion and anger she had before. The way she'd clutched Hunter to her...

He buries his face in his hands, trying to breathe.

“Thought I smelled you out here.”

Sean's voice cuts through his panic. He rears his head, coughing and rubbing at his face to cover the tears, straightening up as Sean pushes through the door, smiling patiently at him. “Oh, hey, dude, what's good?” he asks, clearing his throat. “Warm night, huh? Thought it might rain, but not yet.”

Blue eyes regard him warmly from the doorway. “Yeah, man. I'm good. You maybe don't look so good, on the other hand.”

Chase waves his hand. “No way, I'm chill. Lot better than I was. Up and walking without help, see?”

“Chase,” says Sean, in the same way he had said his name the first time he broke down in the hospital, rocking in his triage cot. “You're not supposed to be put together, you know that, right? That's why you're here.”

Chase nods rapidly, then cuts to shaking his head as his lip begins to tremble again. Sean steps towards him, hands reaching out tentatively, as though he's going to collapse and Sean will catch him.

“Hey,” he says. “I'm glad you're here.”

Chase sucks in a breath, reaching to grab his wrist like the next rock on his climbing wall. “Me too. Just a little freaked, I guess.”

“That's okay. It can be a lot.”

“I also – I, I. I walked here, you know? And I didn't realize it would be a problem. But it's the first time I've been out walking in the evening since... you know. And I just feel kind of...”

“Yeah,” says Sean, when Chase fails to finish the sentence. “Yeah, of course. That's totally normal. Why don't we get you inside and that could help, huh?”

“Sure, sure. Are there other people in there? Er, wolves?”

“Just one. I'm excited for you to meet him, actually.”

“Okay, just give me a second.”

He stands outside that green door and wipes at his face, drawing deep breaths in, letting deep breaths out. Sean is quiet at his side, supremely non-judgemental, patient.

“Hey, Sean?”

“Yeah?”

“You are, like, amazing at your job.”

Sean laughs. “I'll tell my boss!”

Chase laughs too, shaking his head. Sean employs himself. He'd explained it to him in the hospital: how he's supervised by a national accreditation organization for werewolf rehabilitation and advocacy, but, from what Chase understands, they're stretched so thin Sean is mostly on his own. He's funded through a Health Department grant as a licensed werewolf control educator and werewolf crime victim advocate, but not well-funded. That's probably why, as Chase pushes through the door, he can't help but think the office is kind of a wreck. The carpeting is almost amusingly vintage, like it belongs in a bowling alley that hasn't been refurbished since 1970, and one of the chairs actually has a bucket underneath it in place of a missing leg. There's a worn dining table instead of a check-in desk, and tired sofas and armchairs instead of a neat set for a waiting room.

But it smells good, that's one thing Chase will say for sure. Sean's coffee and fire smell seems to warm the whole place, combined with incenses tied together and left smoking quietly in the corner of the room. It's homey. And after weeks of trying to adjust to his over-sensitive nose, it feels more like a breath of fresh air than entering a crowded office.

That's when he catches a new smell.

There's a werewolf in the corner, sitting between the dining table like it's his shield for the day, and the bandages on his neck and arms are so fresh Chase can still smell the blood beneath them. His hackles rise instantly. This man... why is he familiar?

“Chase,” says Sean, perhaps ignorant of the sudden tension in the air, or more likely just ignoring it. “This is Henrik, or Schneep, as the residents insist on calling him. Schneep, Chase. You two actually have a lot in common.”

He's pale as paste, curled into the corner looking so exhausted Chase honestly doesn't think the guy could get up without help. He meets Chase's gaze for a second – those eyes are sharp as flint, blue as crystal, and intelligent in a way that's alarmingly obvious – but he looks away just as quick. Whatever his natural smell is has been overrun by the scent of sick, blood, hospital, medicine, Sean. His face is bruised. He ducks his head low as both Sean and Chase look at him, hiding his neck and his gaze.

It's then that Chase gets it. He's familiar not because they've met before, but because Chase has been in this exact position, only four weeks before.

Assaulted and turned.

It is 6:05 PM, officially five minutes into their first lesson. Why is Chase already crying a second time?

Sean takes him by the shoulders and sits him carefully down, reaching out to wrap his arm around him, and for a second, all Chase can do is bury himself in Sean's shoulder, breathing in his scent in a way that would definitely not be normal for someone who wasn't a werewolf.

“Was it – was he – do they think that – that we – ” Chase chokes out nonsense, struggling to speak.

“Yes,” Sean murmurs. “I could smell him on you both when you were in the ER. The police say they aren't sure, but I am. You were both bit by the same wolf.”

“Why haven't they caught him?” His voice is a mixture of yelling and crying now. “They knew this happened to me and didn't stop it from happening again? How? They have his bite marks! He should be in their system! Why did they let this happen again? Why did I – ”

“Chase, this is not your fault.”

“I was such a fucking coward,” he cries. “I was so – I wish I had fought. I thought he was robbing me, you know, I just wanted to give him my wallet like you're supposed to do so you don't get hurt, and then he leapt at me, and I just – ”

The door opens. Chase is confused a second later when his usual instinct to straighten up and quickly hide his tears is immediately overrun by the need to press his face into Sean's shoulder, startled by the smell of strangers, wolves in the doorway.

“For the love of the moon,” spits an unfamiliar voice. “No way, I am absolutely out. Ow, Jackie!”

Peering over Sean's shoulder, Chase sees one wolf grab the other by the collar of his dress shirt, dragging him into the office as Sean turns to smile at them.

“Play nice,” the one holding the other says, some jacked guy with a red hoodie that looks like it might be secretly bulletproof or something, slightly shiny when you look at it from the right angle. He releases the slightly smaller wolf at his side and beams at Sean. “Jack one!”

“Jack two!” Sean replies, gently releases Chase to turn and face him, holding out his arms. Jack two crashes into him, squeezing him to his chest so hard he lifts Sean fully off the ground for a moment. “I didn't know you were coming!”

“Well, Marv has to come, and he's pissed, so I figured I could balance him out by wanting to be here.”

Marv glowers at the both of them from the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest, but they ignore his grumpiness – unlike Schneep. Chase feels him pushing himself farther into the corner, head low, and his sickly scent spikes with something sharp and bitter that Chase doesn't recognize, though it makes his gut roll for a second. He doesn't feel much better himself. Jack two and Marv don't look much bigger than him, but somehow, he knows in his chest that they are not wolves to be messed with.

“We were just working on introductions anyhow,” says Sean, pulling back from his friend. “These are our new wolves: Henrik, here, and this is Chase. Chase and Henrik, this is Marvin and Jackie. Marvin and Jackie are born wolves, like me.”

“They're here to help with class?” asks Chase weakly.

Sean shoots a look at Marv, who bares his teeth and growls. Chase balks, squishing back against his chair.

“Marv,” Sean barks back, and Marvin's attention turns to him in a snap. “Don't growl at them. How's that for rule number one?”

Chase shifts in his seat. The authority in Sean's voice is so sure of itself and commanding that he almost feels the need to get to his feet and agree with him. Marvin, however, doesn't seem as inclined to back down. He watches Sean warily and slowly bares his teeth again, though he doesn't growl this time. Sean opens his lips in return. His white teeth gleam in the cheap yellow light of the office.

Marvin licks his teeth and quietly tucks them away again, turning his head. Chase blinks at him, his eyes following the curve of his neck as he extends it to Sean sullenly.

Sean's assertion drops immediately and he's smiling again rather than baring his teeth. Apparently just as attuned to whatever weird power-play is happening as Chase is, Jackie makes a low rumbling noise, almost like a purr, and puts his head down on Sean's shoulder, his neck bared right next to Sean's teeth. Sean rumbles back, his scent warm with familiarity.

“What Jackie just did for me is called deferring,” Sean explains to Chase and Henrik, wisely leaving Marvin's deference unspoken between them. “Not submitting – submitting is when you challenge another wolf, usually involving a physical fight, and one of you comes out on top. That's old-fashioned stuff, really. Between friends, you can defer, and it doesn't mean as much as the humans want you to think it does. We're in my home right now, my territory, and I'm here to teach you. Really, it's just good sense for Jackie – and the rest of you – to defer to me while you're here. In other contexts, I wouldn't mind deferring to you back.”

“What's the point of all this?” Henrik speaks up for the first time, and maybe Chase shouldn't be surprised by his German accent, or the exhaustion therein. “Showing necks and baring teeth. You said we're not animals just because this happened.”

Marvin rolls his eyes deeply in the corner, but Sean smiles politely at Henrik. “Good question. Coming from a human perspective, it probably looks unnecessary. But the truth is, you tensed the second Chase came in here, and then even worse when Jackie and Marvin joined us, and part of the reason for that is that the four of you haven't established deference yet.”

Henrik flushes slightly. “Maybe I just am not comfortable around strange wolves after what happened.”

“That could also be part of it,” Sean allows. “But really, you'll feel better if the four of you establish.”

There's a weird silence. Chase shifts in his seat. “Um. How?”

“Say hi to Schneep,” Sean encourages. “Look each other in the eye. The rest will happen naturally.”

“This is so juvenile,” hisses Marvin to Jackie. Jackie points a threatening look his way, and he shuts up.

“Why don't you guys say hi, and I'll talk to Marvin... alone, please.” Sean heads towards one of the side rooms and Marvin, spitting curses the whole way, follows after him.

Jackie doesn't seem uncomfortable at all, stepping towards Henrik despite the way the new wolf shrinks away from him in alarm. “I'll defer to you since you're living here right now,” says Jackie cheerfully. Without hesitating, he leans down til he's lower than Henrik and pulls him into a hug, tilting his neck towards his teeth. Henrik freezes, eyes wide as something inside him seems to have a fifteen-second war with itself, but then he's letting his hands wrap tentatively around Jackie's back. He presses his nose a little closer to Jackie's neck. For just a second, he opens his mouth and shows his teeth, and Chase flinches at the thought that he might bite him, but he doesn't.

Jackie pulls away. And you know what? Henrik really does look calmer.

“Thank you?” says Henrik.

“The most important thing you can learn early on is what Sean said, that deferring isn't a big deal,” purrs Jackie. “You're right, we're not animals. I don't see it as any different from how people use honorifics in different languages. But if you get obsessed with deference, you'll start becoming one of those wolves who challenges every other wolf you meet, always looking for the high of submission, and not only is that miserable for you, but you sure won't find a pack doing that.”

“I don't think I'm that kind of man,” sighs Henrik.

“It's not masculinity, dude. It's wolf stuff. Just be aware of your instincts. They really are different now.”

That makes Henrik sad. Chase blinks, not sure how he knows that. Then he realizes that... he can smell it? Yeah. Something cold and dusty curving into his scent. Sorrow. Grief.

That has a smell?

“Did you say you were living here?” Chase cuts between them. “Did you know Sean before that happened? That's kind of a crazy coincidence, to get turned while living with a rehabilitator.”

“No,” says Henrik roughly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “My apartment building is not a place for werewolves.”

“What? That's not legal.”

“It's not anything official,” says Henrik. “Sean said I may not be welcome there anymore. I didn't believe him at first. But he went to get some of my things for me while I was in the hospital, and one of my neighbors came out and shouted at him. Said they'd kill him if he came back. I... was too scared, after that. Most of my stuff is still there.”

Jackie tenses between them, still crouched in front of Henrik. Chase is scared that he doesn't seem surprised.

“Oh.” Chase looks down at the carpet. He has a house of his own since Stacy went to her sister's and wants her own apartment now. It hadn't occurred to him that the neighbors might have a different opinion of him now. “I'm sorry, man.”

“I just want to go home to Germany,” Henrik whispers. “I was to be here for six months as part of a research grant, working on piggyback transplants with one of the local experts. I've only been here for two. But now I can't travel – I can't take a bus or a plane until I'm rehabilitated. They think I will be claustrophobic, could attack someone or become feral. They took all my documentation, suspended everything until I can get the certification. I just want to go home. I wish I had never come here.”

“What happened?” murmurs Jackie, touching his knee.

“I was attacked coming home from the hospital,” Henrik chokes. It's his turn to sound close to tears, and that cold scent is painfully evident in his smell, cutting through the smell of bandages and injury. “I never even saw my assailant. He left me bleeding behind a dumpster. I screamed for what felt like years before someone came and helped me, and even then, they would not touch me or hold the blood in as it flooded out of me, just kept their distance and called for help. They could already smell that I was not a human anymore.”

Chase's stomach hurts. He stares at Henrik as Jackie murmurs comfort to him, squeezing his knee. “When was that?”

“It was three days ago,” Henrik whispers.

Chase can't help the curse that escapes him. Three days! He gets to his feet without even thinking about it, joining Jackie at Henrik's side, and reaches out with the offer of a hug. Henrik pauses, but only for a second. He leans down, and Chase – okay, yeah. This is what Sean meant, it must be. This immediate need to either rear up and force Henrik lower on his shoulder, or to lean down and let Henrik see his neck. He almost whines with the force of it. The awareness that Jackie is at his side and that Chase doesn't know if he should bare his neck to him either is suddenly uncomfortable and overwhelming. He tries to draw back from Henrik, but apparently the other new wolf is comprehending the same thing as he is, because he grabs Chase uncertainly, and then –

Henrik's teeth flash. Chase almost rears back, but then Jackie is there between the pair of them, making that low rumble deep in his throat again.

“You're both fine,” he says. “Calm down. Try again. Stand up so you don't feel trapped, come on.”

They both get awkwardly to their feet. From the way he's flushed, Chase is pretty sure Henrik is just as embarrassed as him about whatever the hell just happened.

“Sorry,” he manages.

“Ah, ah!” Jackie waggles his finger at him. “Don't apologize! Instincts, remember? You're three days old and – Chase?”

“Um. Four weeks.”

“And four weeks. You're not expected to be in control. Why don't you pick who will defer to the other?”

They regard each other. Henrik's lowered his head again, turned slightly away.

“You're newer to this than me,” says Chase. “You be – um. What's the opposite of defer, Jackie?”

“Accept.”

“You accept, and I'll defer.”

Henrik nods slowly, his eyes flickering. When Chase approaches him this time, he doesn't grab him, hands carefully kept at his side.

Chase allows his head to fall against his shoulder, just like he had with Sean. This close, he can smell the scent of the other wolf beyond the hospital and bandage smell. It's almost salty, a thought that makes him laugh a little despite himself. Maybe kind of like the ocean? And a little lemon? But also, that bandage smell – maybe that's not all the actual bandages. Maybe Henrik has a bit of a clean gauze smell himself, just as part of him. Weird.

He's smiling by the time he draws away from Henrik, squeezing his shoulders warmly. “What do I smell like?”

Henrik fumbles over his words for a second, flushing, obviously having been caught smelling him too. “Uh, well. Kind of like chocolate.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Henrik admits. “It's not unpleasant.”

They look each other in the eye, like Sean said, and the feeling of being unsure of what's going on dissipates from Chase's shoulders.

“Did you see the wolf who attacked you?” asks Henrik softly.

“Yes,” Chase replies, just as quiet. “Sounds like he left you there after biting you, but... not me.”

Henrik tenses. “What do you mean?”

Chase swallows. “He, um. He abducted me.”

Jackie is silent beside them, face taut with worry, his eyes flickering between them. Henrik just stares at him, like maybe it's too horrible to comprehend.

“Brought me to some rundown building,” Chase manages, mouth very dry. “I... turned there with him. He comforted me. Had his hands on me, told me he'd look after me now. When I finished my turn, he forced me to shift into a wolf. It – it hurt worse than the bite. And he did – he made me – submit, like Sean said. Told me to shut up and stay where I was, and I just did. Like I couldn't do anything except what he said. It was awful.”

He leaves out the worst parts: the parts where he was comforted when his attacker forced him to submit, how it made him feel like he would be cared for when he bit into his neck but did not kill him, shoving him into his place. The parts where his instincts were so addled he allowed the other wolf to feed him and pet him and call him pack. The part where he brought out a leash and a collar, like Chase was a fucking dog, and all he did was lie still and let him chain him in place.

He left those parts out when the police asked, too. They already looked at him like he was the most pitiful victim they'd ever seen.

“I only got away because the police found us,” he says. “And he didn't have time to... to escape with me.”

Didn't have time to get him off the chain.

He feels sick thinking about it. Might honestly puke here in Sean's office.

Long fingers tangle into his own.

“Maybe he didn't grab me because you got away,” says Henrik, squeezing his hand. “Thanks for that.”

“I'm sorry I couldn't stop him from hurting you too,” whispers Chase.

Henrik's face creases with sympathy. He shakes his head. “It's only ever his fault. Never yours. Neither of us could have stopped him. We're just... here now. It's unfortunate, but at least we're not alone.”

“Yeah,” Chase agrees, smiling at him a bit despite himself, at the way his pained scent lessens as they stand beside each other. “Yeah, you're right.”

And he thinks maybe this is a little bit of what Jackie and Sean meant, when they talked about instincts and figuring out how you fit with each other. Because he's never met Henrik before, but he knew they had a sameness to them the second Sean said they had both been through this with the same wolf, and he feels it now, with their fingers and their scents wrapping together. Maybe this is instinct too: the way that he feels completely right with himself, for a second, as he stands beside another new wolf and calls that camaraderie.

Not that he's going to overthink it. Henrik is still just a stranger to him – but he feels, in that moment, much less alone than he did twenty minutes past.

Jackie stands to the side of them. When Chase turns his way, his eyes are fixed on him, and they don't flicker away when he meets his gaze, unabashed to be caught staring. Jackie looks at him with something deep and heavy in his gaze, and Chase wishes he could know what he was thinking. Jackie blinks and the look clears. He smiles, but it's weaker now, and as he steps slightly back, Chase sees his hands clenched tightly into fists, and the way his jaw is gritted.

He wonders why that doesn't make him scared.

.

There's water dripping into a bucket in the corner of the sideroom. Marvin smells rain, metal, leaves. The walls are tired, cracking in places, but Sean has tacked up posters and paintings where he can, trying to keep the place cheery. Drywall, bleach, putty, paint. He's shoved some of his spare boxes into this room, filled with his personal belongings that won't fit anywhere in the cramped apartment he lives in upstairs, but there's two nice chairs pressed close together in the center of the room. Strange wolves, comfort, tears, Sean.

“You need more space, Sean,” Marvin says finally. “It's gotten so rundown since you used to see Jackie here. Is that lemon-smell wolf really living in your apartment with you? Where's he even sleeping?”

“There's a couch up there,” says Sean. “He doesn't have anywhere else to go.”

“Oh, and of course everything falls to you to fix for every werewolf in the city.”

Sean shoots him a look, warning and amused at the same time, but beneath it all, he looks so tired. Marvin gets that. He flops down in a chair, stretching luxuriously, and now that he's out of the sight of those new wolves – practically still humans – he's comfortable rubbing his head against the backrest of the chair, spreading his scent. “You gotta take care of yourself too, man.”

“Don't change the subject. We're here to talk about you getting in trouble, Marv.”

“Oh, don't even start with me. You know I'm only here because I have to be. I don't need any of this puppy stuff.”

“I helped Jackie when he was out of control.”

“He was seventeen. I'm twenty-three!”

“How is he doing?”

Marvin deflates, crossing his arms over his chest. “Annoyingly good with his control these days. Now he lectures me about not getting into fights. The nerve.”

“What happened?”

“It's just getting worse. All of it. The way we're treated, the way we're looked at. I was walking around the park and some drunk fucks started sneering at me and throwing things at me, throwing rocks. It hurt. I attacked. They deserved it.”

“It doesn't help, though,” murmurs Sean. “Petty fights, getting caught right away, not thinking things through. You have to just... run away, Marv.”

“And what does that help?” spits Marvin, sitting up straight, his hands hot. “I'm sick of people treating me like shit. Of every human I come across treating me like shit.”

“You lose your temper.”

“Yes, fine, I lose my temper. Do you think any of them ever keep their temper in check with me? With Jackie? You know how much I hate seeing my cousin getting harassed, and all he does is sit quiet until they leave him alone? It makes me fucking murderous, I swear.”

“But he knows that's how it has to be, while we keep making change. All you're doing, Marv, is enforcing their idea that we're violent and dangerous.”

Marvin scowls, shaking his head. “I just want this to be over with. Just certify me, okay? You know I'm in control when nobody's being a total dick to me.”

Sean clucks his tongue. “Sorry, brother. No can do. You're going to have to go through the classes – and my one-on-one appointments – just like the baby wolves.”

“What? Sean, come on! Just tell them I did it! Do you want me to go to jail? I thought we were friends!”

“You could benefit from this, Marv. You know I'm a good educator.” He folds his hands in his lap as he sits down beside him, smiling warmly, the picture of professional friendliness. “Maybe we could talk about some ways you could help me make actual progress for the wolves in this city while we're at it.”

“Sean. Seriously. You really think it's fair that I'm here? That I defended myself from some assholes who hurt me, bruised me, cut me, and I have to go to fucking rehab? You have no idea how unfairly the courts treat me, how – ”

“I have no idea? I have no idea how unfair the courts are, is that what you just said to me?”

The sudden vitriol in Sean's voice shuts Marvin down so hard he barely resists the urge to bare his neck. He swallows hard.

The other half of what Sean does outside this office is werewolf advocacy.

“I'm in court every other day, on dozens of cases for dozens of werewolves – sixty-seven active cases right now, Marv, thanks very much – and every fucking day I'm seeing injustices, hearing about injustices, reading about them. I have a wolf right now who just got sentenced to three years for a crime I know he didn't commit. The housing authority never calls me back about complaints, the county attorney keeps making shitty deals. Fuck, Marv, I have some kid who got sexually abused by her dad, and we are barely convincing the court to place her with her mom instead of taking her into foster care because mom's a wolf, and I guess to them that's almost as bad, I guess that's just – ”

Sean cuts himself off, hanging his head. In the quiet, Marvin can hear his heart beating hard as his scent spikes with snowy grief and copper rage, his hands clenched into fists.

“I'm sorry,” Marvin mumbles. “I'm really sorry, I just...”

“I know,” Sean replies, voice soft. “I know, Marv.”

“I know you do.”

He breathes out slow, through his nose. Marvin gets up and sits down in Sean's chair instead, wrapping himself around him, and he rubs his head firmly against Sean's, sharing his smell, and they sit in the quiet together for a long minute.

Marvin wishes it was always like this, with everyone: that everyone got it, that everyone smelled this nice, that everybody understood it isn't weird for him to cuddle with a wolf who's almost pack to him and Jackie, and has been for years.

“I'm just tired, Sean,” he says finally. “I think you are too.”

“Yeah,” Sean sighs. “Yeah. But we don't have to be hopeless, Marv. And I think maybe that's why you do this, sometimes. That you're angry at everything and you won't channel it anywhere useful because you don't think it will help, that it will change anything. But it can, Marv. I swear, we can make a difference in ways other than fighting. You don't have to just... fume with this anger all the time. Really.”

Marvin says nothing. Sean has always been such an optimist. He can't really share that endless positivity.

“Jackie told me about that night. He said you were upset earlier that day. About his dad.”

Anger curls, low in Marvin's gut. He says nothing.

“Is he really getting released?”

“Of all the wolves that deserve to rot in jail,” growls Marvin, voice low. “Jackie's dad is the first one.”

“Will Jackie let him move in if he gets out?”

“I don't know.” Despair and anger. He's so tired. “He cares so hard, about everyone. I hope not, though.”

“Is he... okay, lately? He told me his pack dissipated. Said there were interpersonal problems.”

Marvin laughs humorlessly. “Is that how he explains it?”

“What happened?”

“Two of them got married and then had to move away when she got pregnant. That's when the fighting started between the ones that were left. It was... when Jackie was trying to get his diagnosis. They found out. Started treating him different. Eventually it turned into full-on fighting, and Jackie wasn't going to force them to submit if they didn't want to anymore.”

“So they left.”

“Yeah. And one of them, he said – he told Jackie that if he knew he wasn't right in the head, he would never have let him be his Alpha in the first place.”

Sean's silent. Marvin tastes his anger in the air again, but there's no lashing out, not with him.

“He's such a good Alpha,” he says finally.

“He's the best fucking Alpha anyone's ever heard of,” Marvin agrees, voice loud in the little room. “The best fucking – he's so caring. Fuck! He cares so hard. And he lead so confidently, so cheerfully, never let them get hurt, was always there, just – just – fuck, Sean. You don't know how bad it ticks me off. His confidence is shattered since then. He doesn't try to find a new pack. He won't even pack-bond with me, anymore. Says I deserve better.”

Sean sighs, low and tired. “I'll talk to him too.”

“Okay, yeah. Maybe he'll listen to you.”

Sean shifts in his seat, letting Marvin sink against his side.

“Did you hear about that human who got attacked by a wolf downtown?” Marvin asks.

Sean stiffens. “The human who had just gotten out of jail?”

“Yeah, he had been convicted of hate crimes against wolves, but got out because of some mistrial shit. Or lack of representation, or something. But he was out. Got mauled out near the beach. The wolf didn't kill him, but they fucked him up pretty good. Taught him a lesson, I guess.”

“I heard, yeah.”

“I'm worried that maybe that was Jackie,” Marvin whispers.

“What? Why?”

“Guy deserved it, and Jackie had followed that case when it was first in the papers. The way he's been bottling stuff up lately... he's in control, like I said. But I wouldn't put it past him to make the decision to go out and punish someone who deserved it. He's back into his comic books again – like, nothing but Spider-Man unless he's at work. You know him. He loves vigilante stories, and that's what the police were saying might have happened. That there was a similar case before that, another asshole getting attacked by a wolf, but not killed, never killed. They said it was some red-brown wolf, not huge, but definitely powerful. What if that's him?”

Sean shakes his head, grimacing. “I'll talk to him,” he repeats. “You tell me if you find any hard evidence.”

“Fine.”

“As for you – ”

“No. Can we not? Seriously?”

“Marv, Henrik and Chase could use your help. Yeah, seriously. You need to get some purpose back. You just have to, Marv. Are you even working these days?”

“So what if I'm not?”

“You're lonely. You're bored, for fuck's sake. Here's my plan: you'll stay an extra half-hour after the course with the newbies. We'll have one-on-ones. Talk about your goals, fight a little of that extra energy off, do some anger management stuff. When you're actually making progress, I'll certify you. I'm not going to make this hard on you, brother, but I think it could help. I think it might be good for you to see some of the work I do day-to-day. Maybe you could help me out with some things. You've sure got the passion.”

Marvin lets his head loll back so he can squint at Sean more efficiently, letting his grumpiness seep into his scent. It makes Sean laugh despite himself, reaching out to pet Marv's head, just once.

“Hey. They need you and Jackie, the experience and understanding that you bring. This could be good for all five of us. All I ask is that you try, Marv. Maybe for the first time in a long time. Have just a little hope. For me.”

For Sean.

The friendliest, nicest-smelling wolf he's ever met, endlessly giving, endlessly positive, who thinks every wolf alive is his brother or sister or sibling, who turned his cousin's life around when no one else was willing to try.

Practically pack. And you don't have to be a wolf yourself to know that Marvin Ahearn would do anything for pack.

“Alright, you old bastard,” he says, laying his head down on Sean's shoulder. “For you.”

One lesson can't hurt, right?

#vomit tw #blood tw #brief mention of child abuse #werewolf au #bee writes #jse egos #jacksepticeye

[convexicalcrow]

Aww yeah the first part of the Lost Prince AU is done! For anyone waiting to read it now that it's complete, now's your time. <3

In this chapter, Cub finally arrives at Djesdjes, reuniting with Scar in, well. Let's say not the most ideal circumstances.

I'm going to take a couple of weeks to finish off part two before I start posting that bc I want it to all feel complete rather than just ad-libbing everything.

#hermitshipping #fanfic #the lost prince au #convex #cubfan135 #gtwscar #tw animal injury #but it's only a brief mention #tw blood/injury #also wound stitching #but it's not graphic

[scalar]

every time i do an injection i understand brandon cronenberg and herbert west a little better

#there's something about it that tickles my brain in exactly the right way #a delight in the same vein (hah) of getting your blood drawn #this metal and plastic gets to be part of me for a brief shining moment #an appendix; an addendum; an explanatory note #what a delight. what a delight to poke and prod at the machine keeping you alive #what a delight to hear it whir in perfect finite harmony #what a delight to - for a second - invite yourself inside #word vomit #needles mention /