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rjhpandapaws · 2 years

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Night Life

Week 1: Vampires

Reasonably speaking Gavin should have been past the point in his life that an inconvenience in his life, major or otherwise, sent him to night club to get wasted and swept away. Then again, if anything counted as being a major inconvenience in life, it was being related to the great Elijah Kamski. So one bomb of a Christmas party down, he found himself in yet another night club drink in hand and watching the crowd. Maybe tonight something interesting would happen. Gavin chose to linger in night clubs for many reasons, including the most obvious one; it was the easiest way to pick someone up for the night and pretend he was someone they would want sober too. There was more to it than that of course, the music was loud enough that he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else if he wanted to, and the people who came to these places were interesting to watch. They were all more or less after the same things, but you would never know just by looking at them. That was the beauty of these places, you could leave who you were at the door and become whatever you wanted to be until Last Call. He wasn’t sure how long he had been watching the crowd when the man had first approached him. He wasn’t the kind Gavin would usually go for, but there was just something about him. He was rough around the edges, his hair and beard just this side of unkempt to keep from being off putting. Rugged if Gavin had to pick a word. In the end though it was the eyes that had done him in, he always went for blue eyes.

“Not many people come to these places alone.” His voice was a deep almost rumble, that would have sold Gavin on this stranger if his eyes already hadn’t. “Yet here we are.” Gavin replied with a half smile. The man smiled and something about it pricked Gavin as not right, but he couldn’t place it so he didn’t worry. “Who said anything about my being alone?” The man asked. “You’re speaking to a stranger at a night club. That’s not exactly the behavior of someone who came with company.” He quipped back. This earned him a laugh, and Gavin marked himself as sold, strange smile or not. “That’s fair.” The man conceded, “What would you say to not being strangers then?” “Tell me your name, and I’ll think about it.” He said. “Most people call me Hank.” He pointed his drink toward Gavin, “Now you’re the stranger.” “Gavin.” He replied, “Care to dance Hank?” “I would love to.” He agreed with another of those strange smiles, but this time he just didn’t care. Whatever it was could be an issue for future Gavin.

Dancing with Hank was an experience, he moved with a grace and fluidity Gavin would have thought impossible for someone of his height and stature. It was added to what seemed to be an infinitely growing list of things Gavin found captivating about Hank. Even that odd smile was beginning to grow on him, because when it was turned his way he felt like he was the only person in the world. He would have considered it romantic if he were someone to be inclined to such things. When Hank suggested that they take this somewhere more private Gavin agreed without any hesitation. This was turning into a better night than he had any hope it would have when he first arrived at the club. His plan had been to wallow and people watch, maybe dance if the right song came on. He found it safe to say this was a better way to spend the night. Whatever had been building between them in the club spilled over in the cab and Gavin for once was glad that the ones in Detroit were automated for the most part. It took longer than it should have to get from the cab to Hank’s front door, but Gavin didn’t have it in him to care. Once they got inside what had been pulled tight in the cab finally snapped. Something in the air seemed to change, and Gavin was left with the same feeling of when he had first seen Hank’s smile, but just like before there was something more pleasant to claim his attention. So he chased that instead.

When he woke up it was sharp and sudden, not the slow languid thing he was used to from the nights he remembered even vaguely of going to a club. It felt someone had put fire in his veins and was working on containing it there. He wanted to scream, but the pain stole the sound from him and it came out as a sharp whimper that echoed too loudly in the room. Everything was too much. The things he had remembered to have been soft now felt like cactus needles prickling against his skin. He tried to kick off the blankets but the movement started the burning sensation beneath his skin all over again. “Hey, you’re alright.” It was Hank’s voice, and the only thing in the room that wasn’t overly loud. “This is the worst part, but it’s almost over.” The worst part of what? What happened last night? Everything after the cab was a blur. They drank, danced, and then left in the taxi. He felt it was safe to assume they’d fucked, he really wouldn’t be here otherwise, but he was trying to figure out why it felt like he was slowly burning to death. He didn’t know what ‘it’ was, but he was reassured that it would be over soon. Maybe he had finally gotten picked up by a serial killer and he was being comforted in his last moments. Tina always tried to warn him about these kinds of things. Being part of the DPD someone would have assumed him to be smarter and they would have been wrong. He didn’t take any extra precautions even with the uptake in missing persons, now he wished he had.

Hank had gone at some point in his spiral and had come back with something for him to drink. He would have asked what it was if he had the energy. It was sweet with a bitter bite toward the end and blackness had started to creep up along his vision before he had finished it. It was poor job at covering up poison if that was what this had been, not that it mattered. He was under again before he could voice his concerns. At least his last night had been a good one. When he came out of it again he was surprised. One because he didn’t expect to come out of it at all, and two because the pain that felt like it had been pulling him apart at the seams was nearly gone. It was reduced to a dull ache where his neck met his shoulders. He was thirsty in a way that suggested he had slept hard and the room spun when he tried to sit up. “Don’t move too fast. You’ll make yourself dizzy.” He followed the sound so see Hank standing in the doorway. “I didn’t think you were going to survive.” “Sur-survive? What did you do to me?” He meant for it to come out as anything other than the rough whisper he managed, but his voice was still too loud to his own ears. This one strange hangover, “Why didn’t you get help?” Hank hesitated, “I wouldn’t have been able to explain what happened. And even then, there was nothing they could have done that would have helped.” Gavin barked out a laugh that echoed unpleasantly in his head, “What did you do to me?” “I changed you.” He said it like a child that was being scolded, “I didn’t mean to.” “Changed me how?” Gavin looked at his hands in a way that might have seemed foolish, especially since nothing was noticeably different about them.

“How much of the other night do you remember.” Hank said, and Gavin bristled that his question was ignored, “This might be easier if we start from the beginning.” “If you mean last night, not fucking much.” He said flatly, “I met you at a club and we came back here. I woke up feeling like I was dying and you gave me something to drink and then there’s nothing.” “Well you slept for twenty-four hours so I wasn’t hoping for much.” He entered the room and Gavin moved toward the edge of the bed, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.” “Somehow I doubt that.” He remarked. “Do you want to know what happened to you or not.” Hank as frustrated as Gavin felt. “Fine.” He kept still, but took his phone from the nightstand. “Give me your hand.” It wasn’t lost on him that this wasn’t a suggestion. He held his hand out and Hank took it. He was confused for a moment before he saw the last things he remembered from Hank’s perspective. The club, his interest in him and the curiosity on how he wound up there. He skipped over Gavin spilling his guts, which he was grateful for, he didn’t think he would have survived going through it a second time. The cab ride and the bubbling anticipation, with something almost like hunger bubbling underneath. He heard his own bad joke about Hank leaving hickeys and cringed. Amusement came through the link at that point and Gavin rolled his eyes. They fell together, as was the plan from them leaving the club. What Gavin had taken as shyness, Hank having his head tucked in the crook of his neck was something else entirely apparently. He could feel Hank’s regret as much as he could now recall the pressure of the bite. Hank let go of his hand after that and Gavin just stared at him for a moment.

“This is going to sound stupid.” He prefaced, “But could you smile?” Hank looked confused for a while before he did what he was asked. This time Gavin looked for anything that was out of place, and it didn’t take him long to find it. His canines were too long, it wasn’t something that would have been immediately noticeable in a dimly lit club, especially with the state he had been in. People had been going missing more often at night and things were starting to make sense. “I knew it.” He muttered. “You knew?” Hank parroted and Gavin jumped. “Well, not entirely.” He explained, “The first time you smiled, I thought there was something off about it, but I couldn’t place it.” He tapped his jaw to make the point, “Your teeth.” “You still came with me.” Hank pointed out. “Well yeah, you’re attractive and I was drunk, did you think I was going to say no?” Gavin quipped. The deadpan expression he received in return answered him well enough, “Most humans listen to that voice when it tells them something is wrong.” “I am a detective, I make my living by ignoring that voice.” He said dryly. “Were.” Hank replied. “What?” Gavin echoed. “You were a cop.” He clarified, “It would be dangerous for you to go back now.”

“So, what? Now I’m just stuck here?” He snapped. “Of course not. You can leave whenever you like, I’m not cruel.” He said gently, “But I wouldn’t suggest going back to your human colleagues until you know how to handle yourself a little better.” Gavin grit his teeth, well he tried to, what he succeeded in doing was cutting his cheek. His confusion must have shown because Hank walked to the bathroom and came back with a hand mirror. Without anymore prompting than that, Gavin took the mirror an opened his mouth. His upper and lower canines, held the same sharpness as Hank’s. He should have been upset, by all means he should have been angry. God knew he had the right to be, but what he felt instead was relief. The laughter came on its own, unbidden, and Gavin couldn’t blame Hank for his look of concern. He’d always wanted to disappear, a reason to walk away from everything, to get out from under the shadow that was Elijah and he finally had it. He set the mirror down and looked at his phone. He had some missed calls from his his friends. Tina was probably looking for him now, Chris was probably with her, even if it was just to keep her from breaking down. He held the lock button until it turned off, they would move on eventually. “And if I don’t want to go back at all?” He asked when he had a hold of himself again. “Then there is always room for you here.” Hank replied.

It only took him a few days to come to number among the missing. He took down the pictured of himself he found as they cropped up. He wasn’t missing, only missed. Another of many faces lost to the Detroit night life. Letting go of it all wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. He could always check on his friends if he missed them, and Hank was always waiting for him when he got back.

@dbh-supernatural-challenge

#Hankvin #dbh Hank #dbh Gavin #Vampire!Hank #Turned!Gavin #dbh fic #dbhmagic #dbhsupernaturalchallenge

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allegedlyanandroid · 2 years

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Week 10: Dragons

The beginning of the end

To vanquish a dragon is the ultimate test to prove one's resolve, one's skill, and furthermore it's a test of loyalty. Nines' ticket to a better life in the court of his King. Clawing his way up from the dregs of the gutters until he could pretend his background had been washed away with the filth of a day's training hadn't been easy. Going back is not an option, he can’t stand the thought of losing the progress he’s made, so going toe to toe with a fearsome beast does not sound like a bad idea to him. It will either end in victory or death and either is a preferable outcome in his mind.

This one in particular has plagued the area for close to a decade. Black scales glowing bronze in the light, its shimmering coat and gaping maw the last sight for so many of his kin, as it rains down hell upon them from the sky. The beat of its wings fan the flames higher until whole villages are set ablaze. Nines has seen the soot-covered men returning from their watch with mouths set in grim lines often enough to lose count.

Its home, come to find out, lies in an abandoned castle long since laid to ruin. Ivy clings lovingly to the weathered stone and through the crumpled walls he can see its hulking form moving through what once must have been the great hall. Nines approaches in the opposite direction of the wind with his blade balanced in his hand. Forged with the finest steel he could afford, hopefully strong enough to pierce the dragon's thick hide.

The dragon appears oblivious to his advances as the sun slowly descends, tethering on the cusp of disappearing from view. Creeping ever closer Nines awaits the perfect moment to strike. The first slash needs to be ring true or his chances of success will drop rapidly. Aim for chinks in the armour, he’d been told, or better yet force it into being landbound by damaging its wings. They’re easier targets when crawling on their bellies.

Beneath his heel a twig breaks with his weight.

He doesn't close his eyes the way he wishes to but rather abandons stealth to rush the beast as it turns towards him. It reels back from his charge and opens its maw in a deafening roar.

Deep in its throat Nines sees the build of molten heat.

His blade finds its target, dragging over an old scar where the scales are weakened. In the midst of following it with a second swipe, the dragon catches him with a massive wing and he goes flying, tumbling to the floor. With his blade knocked out of his hand Nines feels a spike of fear at his vulnerable position – paralyzing the way it twists into his heart.

You have to move, he urges himself and shifts onto his feet, scrambling for his blade. Yet, even in his dazed state, he realises a follow-up attack never comes. It makes no sense, none at all, and even less when he sees a man crouched in the dragon's place.

Ichor spills down a wound on his thigh, the human equivalent to where Nines had struck, dripping down to puddle beneath him on the floor. Wind-tousled hair and burly muscle with eyes of molten gold set in a scarred face gives him the illusion of a hardworking man. Attractive is what he is and, to Nines' flustered recognition, he’s also as naked as the day he was born.

"What?" he rasps out, unable to slot his thoughts back in order.

As if his voice were the key to break a spell, the dragon-now-human turns tail and runs further into the depths of debris. Nines picks up the chase, following the trail of sizzling ichor in his wake. It hardens when it grows cold, speckles of metal on the stone floor like stars in the night sky, and they offer a glimmering path in the moonlight. Regardless, a human is easier to lose than a dragon. Nines realises this and finds himself thankful for landing the hit where he had seeing as it slows his prey – eventually allowing him to corner the man in what appears to have been a study once upon a time.

He scrambles away from the glint of Nines’ weapon, eyes darting desperately over the unrelenting wall he’s been back into. “Please,” he whispers, hopeless despair thick in his gravelly voice, “don’t hurt me.”

Nines’ shadow falls over the cowering figure and for a moment he feels nothing but pity.

“What are you?” he asks in an effort to delay the inevitable.

“I was cursed, stripped of a piece of my soul and trapped in a form not of my own choice. I can’t- I can’t control the shift. My name is Gavin,” the man, Gavin, says. While not an entirely satisfying response, Nines' interest is piqued and refocuses on this new information.

“Who would ever commit such a heinous act?”

“The one you call king,” he says slowly, as if it were obvious. “Elijah Layton Kamski, Scourge of Humankind and Herald of Dissent.” Gavin licks his lips, opening his mouth to continue speaking and then shutting it just as quickly when Nines breaks into laughter.

It’s difficult to refrain in the face of such potent absurdity.

“Surely you don’t expect me to believe you or these lies you’ve fashioned from thin air? What could he possibly have to gain from targeting you?”

“Power.” The word silences Nines faster than an arrow through the jugular and Gavin takes his silence as his cue to carry on. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that the youngest son ended up being the only living heir to the throne, or that he hasn’t aged a day since he claimed it from his mother’s corpse? Her body wasn’t yet cold before he relieved her of the crown he’d sought since he was a child,” Gavin spits.

“You lie.”

“You delude yourself,” Gavin counters. “I was there when he slid the dagger into her heart, when he carved valleys into her flesh to shift the blame onto me. A dragon, a mindless beast killing their beloved queen is easier to digest than trying her son for murder. I was raised by her since I took my first breath. She was my mother, in all but blood. Look in my eyes and tell me I’m lying when I say I’d never so much as displace a single hair on her head.”

And Nines… Nines can’t. The raw emotion condensed into every vowel, every consonant, every syllable has him inching his blade lower until the tip is resting against the ground. Every stripped bare sentence sounds like irrefutable truth and it robs him of any inkling as to how to proceed.

Gavin rises to his feet, cautious and slow, eyes burning like embers on skin as he offers his ichor-stained fingers to grasp.

"Renounce him, your usurper king and anything within my power to grant is yours. Help me, and you'll want for nothing."

#i am... late #but what else is new #dbh #dbh gavin #dbh rk900 #gavin reed #rk900 #reed900 #detroit: become human #my writing #dbh magic #dbhmagic #alleged shenanigans

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nadare-writer · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor Characters: Hank Anderson, Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Cole Anderson Additional Tags: Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ghosts, Haunting, Grief/Mourning, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Ghost Cole Anderson, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, One Shot Series: Part 6 of DBH Supernatural Challenge 2021 Summary: After taking a blow to the head at work, Connor discovers he can see ghosts. Or rather one spirit: Cole Anderson. As the fourth anniversary of Cole's death draws near, Connor debates whether or not he should tell Hank about the development.

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elisa897 · 2 years

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Week 14: Shapeshifters

I just thought about Mystique, since she is a shapeshifter and here comes Gavin in her shoes 🤣

I humbly ask for forgiveness 😅

And this challenge is over too 😊

I enjoyed messing up the DBH characters 🤣 and I hope to be able to repeat the experience in the future 😁

Thanks for everything, @dbh-supernatural-challenge 😘

#week 14: shapeshifters #dbhmagic #dbh #detroit become human #gavin reed #shapeshifter!gavin #shapeshifter #dbh au #dbh fanart #fanart #drawing #digital art #elisa897

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elisa897 · 2 years

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Week 6: Angels/Demons

A demon Gavin and an angel Connor ☺️

@dbh-supernatural-challenge

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elisa897-2 · 2 years

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Week 10: Dragons

This week I take this opportunity to publish a drawing of the fanfiction that Yen and I are writing ☺️

Do you remember these two babies, @yayen-chan ? 😁❤️

Dragon Nines and Gavin ☺️

@dbh-supernatural-challenge

#week 10: dragons #dbhmagic #detroit become human #dbh #dbh fanart #dragon!nines #nines #rk900 #gavin reed #900gavin #reed900 #900reed #love #dragon #drawing #digital art #fanart #elisa897-2

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elisa897 · 2 years

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Week 12: Centaur

This time I thought Gavin fit better as a centaur 😁💕

@dbh-supernatural-challenge ☺️

#week 12: centaur #dbhmagic #detroit become human #dbh #dbh fanart #dbh au #gavin reed #centaur!gavin #centaur #Fanart #digital art #drawing #elisa897

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elisa897 · 2 years

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Week 1 : Vampires

Well yes, I want to participate in this challenge too 😊

And here we have a vampire android Nines who feeds on human blood 😁 and Gavin is the (un)fortunate one 😝

Hope you like it 😉

Thanks @dbh-supernatural-challenge for the prompts ☺️❤️

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therainnight · 2 years

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DBH Supernatural Challenge : Week 02 : Sirens/Mermaid 🐙 : ??? G : ???

#dbhsupernaturalchallenge #dbhmagic #900gavin #octa!Nines #gavin reed #rk900 #reed900 #my art #mer!nines #Human!Gavin #fanart #bebe kraken! Nines #🐙 : eggs?#G : 🤨???

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elisa897 · 2 years

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Week 5: Werewolves

Werewolf Gavin, even if he doesn't look much like Gavin... 😅

This is definitely one of my favorite prompts! 🥰

Thanks, @dbh-supernatural-challenge! 💕

#week 5: werewolves #dbhmagic #dbh #dbh au #dbh fanart #fanart #digital art #gavin reed #werewolf!gavin #werewolves #woods #elisa897 #detroit become human

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rjhpandapaws · 2 years

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Sailor’s Song (Don’t Trust the Water)

Week 2: Mermaids/Sirens

Hank had worked on the water for most of his adult life. He moved out from the big city as soon as he was able, he had been restless and needed to wander. So now he made his home in the creaking metal of shipping tankers for up to months at a time. It was hard work, but well worth it for the things he got to learn. Not just how ships worked and things of that nature, but the way his different crewmates saw the world. They all had their reasons for being at sea, and for a lot of the younger sailors it was soul searching. There were others like him though, who were out at sea because this was where they felt the most at home. In the end they all had their stories and their reasons, and while some where pretty unique a majority of them were the same. Something had called them out here and they were looking for it. Another thing Hank had learned from his years at sea was that the older ones loved their stories. All of them had different versions of the same tales to spin, lessons and warnings disguised as fantasy. Warnings against pride, and reminders to trust your navigating tools even when your instinct said otherwise. Most importantly; never follow the music.

It was a warning as old as sailing itself. Beware of the sirens. Hank was skeptical of it, as he tended to be with myths, but almost every place he had been to had a story pertaining to sirens so he was inclined to believe there was at least some merit to the idea. Whether or not it came down to actual magical singing fish people had yet to be determined. He certainly had heard a distant melody drifting over the waves before, but he had never been inclined to follow it. His favorite shift rotation was the midnight to six am rotation, not because there wasn’t as much to do, but because that was when it felt like he could be the closest to the sea and really appreciate what made sailing worth it. Where the waters were dark enough that he couldn’t be sure where they stopped and the sky began. When it felt like they were drifting off into something endless. It was something beautiful that made all of the grueling work worth it. The tanker he was on this time was headed for a remote area in Alaska, and it would be some time after they arrived that he would be able to find a ship back. Which was why he had taken this job, as much as he loved being at sea, it was getting close to time for him to settle. He wanted to be some where that he could still be alone with the sea. If there was a place he could do that, Alaska would be where he found it. Maybe he would finally be able to hear that Sailor’s Song so many myths had been crafted around. If such a thing truly existed.

He was on midnight rotation when he heard it the first time. Singing that was so distant that he couldn’t be sure of the words, if there were any at all, but it was a pleasant sound either way and he was content to listen to it while he worked. Someone was probably playing their phone over the loud speaker again and he was just too far away to hear it clearly. Classic opera always tended to echo weird even when they weren’t on the water, and it was better that whatever pop number Gavin had tried to play the night before. It wasn’t something he paid to much thought to until he was back on morning rotation three weeks later. There was a loud speaker right above where he was stationed, if someone had been playing music those nights, he would have heard it fine. He shrugged it off, sound carried over water, and no one slept like they should while at sea. A mixture of those probably lead to him hearing something he deiced was music. That was more believable than it having been a Siren call. Or, it was until he started paying more attention. He wasn’t the only one that heard it, because it came back on the day shift and it was something that made Gavin finally shut up. He stopped saying whatever it was he had been going on about rather abruptly and tilted his head as though he was straining to hear some far off sound. Hank did the same, and very faintly he could hear the same wordless song from the week previous. It had more of a hold on Gavin than it did on him, because he began walking down the hall toward the main deck. Hank followed, just in case something happened.

He got to Gavin just before he tried tipping himself over the edge. Yanked him back by the hood of his jacket and didn’t let go of him until they were back to their shared room. He locked the door and waited for Gavin to snap out of it. It took three hours for the life to come back to his eyes. He looked around the room and then at Hank with understandable confusion. “Where are... When?” Gavin struggled to get his words out, “Why are we here?” Hank hesitated for a moment before he replied, “This will be easier if you tell me the last thing you remember.” Irritation flickered to life in his eyes but calmed as he tried to concentrate, “We were in the hallway talking about what we would do when we made port. And then the next thing a remember was being in here.” “No music?” He pressed. “There was something, like an old theater opera song... but with out the words.” He muttered, “I heard it a few weeks ago too, I figured someone was playing music. Why?” “You tried to throw yourself overboard.” Hank replied bluntly, “You woulda fucking made it too if I hadn’t been there.” Gavin looked down at his hands and turned them over like he was looking for something and Hank let him process it. He would have hesitated to call Gavin his friend, but they had gone on enough jobs together that he would have hated to see something happen to him. “Thank you.” He eventually said, “For saving me.” “You would have done the same for me.” He replied, “Just do me a favor and start wearing earplugs when you’re out on the deck. These trips wouldn’t be the same without you.” That earned him a weary smile, “I’ll work on that. For now though, I think I’m going to try and sleep.” “Sounds good. You’ll probably be under watch for a few days too.” Hank said as he left. He didn’t get a reply from Gavin.

That was the first and last incident Hank was personally involved in. He kept a close eye on Gavin and still heard the odd melody from time to time, but neither of them were largely affected by it anymore. They made port without losing anyone which was more than Hank had been expecting after Gavin’s close call. It took them a few days to unload and by then everyone had found places they could stay. Gavin had picked a place a considerable distance from the beach and Hank picked a motel that was right on the sand. He heard the song almost every night now. It was louder, but the words were still unclear to him. He took to spending his nights out on the pier to see if he could catch a glimpse of whatever it was, but he took care to never get in the water. He didn’t have the urge to like Gavin seemed to have, there was nothing in it that compelled him. It was little more than a pleasant song. On the good nights he even sang a long to it. He decided to stay in Alaska. He found an old beach house that could use a little repair and decided to make it his home. He made his work in small boat repair and at night he would grab his folding chair and his guitar and sit out on the dock and duet with whatever it was that sang from the depths. For the first time he could remember he was content. A man at peace with the mystery of the sea.

He got a Saint Bernard eventually. Though he wasn’t lonely his house was a little big for just him but he wasn’t all that keen on living with someone else. Not that there was anyone particularly interested in coming to live with the man who sang with the Sirens. He had gradually become the town oddity, but it wasn’t something that he minded. He and this creature had some kind of understanding. Or he would like to believe they did since he was finding shells and small sea treasures on the dock where he would leave his chair when the weather was nice. He had come to the conclusion that whatever this was had to be similar to a Siren. He was reluctant to call it one, because he wasn’t dead yet, and all the tales he had heard of such creatures ended in death. Or perhaps he was just immune. Either way, when evening rolled around he and Sumo would make their way to the dock, Hank would pick up whatever had been left for him and would begun to play. The creature would join in on it’s own time. It became the part of his day that he looked forward to the most. He liked what he did for work, but the moments he could be by the sea were the ones he lived for. The moments he started to focus on when he couldn’t be at the water’s edge, and the likely reason for the accident that took his arm.

He should have been paying attention, being a ship-right was dangerous no matter how long was spent in the business. He shouldn’t have been so worried about the incoming storm. It wasn’t a big deal if he missed one night, he’d done it before and the creature didn’t seem to worry too much about it. It wouldn’t have been a problem. At this point though he would have been able to should himself to death with the number of mistakes he had made that day and it wouldn’t have mattered because he still lost his arm and he wouldn’t be able to play along with his companion anymore. He still went down to the dock once he was recovered. He might not have been able to join in with his guitar, but he could still sing, and he could still listen. Most night now he listened, he wasn’t in the mood to join in. It didn’t take whatever it was that he sang to long enough to notice, and fifteen years since he had first heard it’s song Hank finally caught a glimpse of it. Not anything identifying, just a flash of pale blue and reflective silver then nothing. Not even a ripple in the water to show it had been there at all, but he knew. It came closer each time Hank came down to the dock. He could tell because the song was slightly louder each time, and it had changed. It had become something more melancholy, which Hank could understand because he felt that way about not being able to be a part of their old routine anymore. Most nights now he didn’t bother with the old folding chair and would just sit on the end of the dock with the feet in the water. He’d come to the conclusion that if this thing wanted to kill him it would have done it by now, so he didn’t see it as much of a risk. It could have him if it wanted.

Tonight was shaping up to be a night like every other. He was sat on the end of the dock with his feet in the water and his companion was singing from somewhere beneath the waves. Sumo seemed a little more on edge than usual, but as it was the big dog didn’t like this ritual much, he never had so Hank didn’t really think anything of it. Not until he felt something touch his foot. It was gentle, almost curious, and distinctly not fish like in nature. The first time it happened he was willing to brush it off, the second time he pulled his feet up onto the dock. The creature followed and Hank got the first look at the thing that had been serenading him all these years. He could only really see its face, and it was beautiful in a hauntingly alien sort of way. It’s hair was brown or black, he couldn’t be sure between the darkness and the fact that it was wet. It’s skin was pale to the point of nearly being translucent, he supposed sunburn wasn’t much of an issue at the depths that this thing lived. What pulled him in the most though were it’s eyes. The glimpse of pale silver he had seen all those months ago had to have been this thing looking at him. The iris was a reflected silver with blue tints along the inner edge and what should have been the whites were a deep fathomless black. They would have been nightmarish in any other context, but this creature looked at him with a soften that was almost painful. The sharp features of it’s face were pinched in concern and curiosity. It was almost like it wasn’t sure which it should have been feeling. It tipped its head in the water and let out a musical trill, higher at the end almost like a question.

“I’m sorry.” Hank responded, “I haven’t been in the mood to play music since my accident, but it’s nice to finally meet you.” A head tilt in the other direction, another trill, and when hank didn’t reply it lifted it’s webbed hand out of the water and tapped the foot that was closest to the edge of the dock. Hank wiggled his toes in response to the odd sensation, “Why are you so interested in my feet?” He still carefully put his feet back in the water as not to involuntarily kick the creature. There was another careful touch from beneath the water. The creature sank down to where it’s eyes were just above the water as it rolled his foot carefully like it was trying to figure out how it worked. Hank chose to have a bit of fun and splashed the creature with his free foot. It looked up at him in surprise and he did it again. It let go of his foot and dipped beneath the water, and Hank was worried he might of annoyed it until he was hit with a wave of water that was followed by the shining blue he had seen before. When the creature poked it’s head above the water it looked quite proud of itself. Hank couldn’t blame it and found himself laughing despite the cold that was settling over him. “Alright.” He laughed, “You win.” He put his hand up in a placating gesture and the creature mimicked it. Hank found that interesting and moved his hand, and the creature did the same to the best of it’s ability. Interesting. He entertained it that way for a while before it tilted its head back toward the water like it was hearing something that Hank couldn’t. It replied with a series of clicks and turned back to Hank. It trilled a low almost sad sound and Hank nodded in return. “Be safe.” He said as his companion slipped beneath the water.

Hank spent a lot of time on the dock after that. Given his unfortunate early retirement it wasn’t like he had much better to do. He’d somewhat adjusted to life with one arm and the phantom pains weren’t as bad as they used to be. It was a learning curve since he had been right handed before the accident, but he managed. Moreover though, his companion always seemed to know when he would be at the water’s edge and had taken to waiting for him. It would let out two high trills in a row, which Hank came to understand as a greeting and would respond in kind with a hello of his own. He had taken to bringing things he thought might interest the creature with him. From toys Sumo had lost interest in to house hold items he no longer used and weren’t dangerous to put in water. The creature in kind would bring him things from the sea floor, occasionally they would still be alive which weirded him out a little, but it seemed happy when he accepted them. There were times the sounds it let out would almost sound like words. Like it was trying to mimic him. It had a pretty good handle on Sumo already. There had been many a night Hank had heard howling come from the dock only to find Sumo sound asleep by the radiator, so it wasn’t out of the question that it might have been learning to mimic him. All of that said, he wasn’t ready for the day it actually spoke.

“Hel-lo.” It said in the same tempo as it’s usual trill, “This is Hank.” He paused for a long moment and then began to laugh. Of all the things it chose to mimic it picked his phone greeting. He settled on the end of the dock once he had collected himself. “Hello to you too.” He smiled. The creature seemed proud. “This is Hank.” He repeated. “This is Hank.” He agreed as he gestured to himself. The creature blinked at him owlishly and put it’s hand on his chest in a motion that mimicked his, “This is -” It let out a sound Hank had no chance of making with his own vocal chords. When Hank didn’t respond it tipped it’s head. “Yeah, I can’t make that kinda noise bud.” He tried to explained. He wasn’t sure it understood him because it tried a couple more times before it disappeared beneath the water. Hank used his arm to brace himself and leaned over the end of the dock to look for it. It came back up eventually with the foam letters Hank had bought for it. One by one it laid out letters and when it finished it looked up at him expectantly. “So your name is Nines.” He said. “This is Nines.” It repeated and then smiled. Well, more accurately bared its sharp teeth with a sound of delight, and while it was unsettling Hank was glad he knew what to call his friend. It was probably strange that he considered a sea creature his friend, but he had long since become the town oddity. It wasn’t like he had anything else to lose. In this place with Nines and Sumo he no longer felt the need to chase the unreachable horizon. Whatever had been calling him was here and he was content even after everything that happened.

He didn’t realize how much of a recluse he had become until he received a letter from Gavin letting him know he was coming up on another shipping container and he wanted to visit before he left again. How long had it been since he spent time with another human? It was always he, Sumo, and Nines. To that effect, he was relatively sure, Nines was the creature that had tried to lure Gavin overboard. He probably wouldn’t be able to spend as much time down at the dock while Gavin was with him, and it wasn’t sure how he could break that to Nines. He was picking up the language pretty well. Whatever he was, they were incredibly fast learners, or at the very least Nines was. Their conversations were always pleasant. Nines was incredibly curious, and Hank would answer his questions as best he could. One thing Nines never asked about was his arm. He looked at it often, but never asked. Hank appreciated it, because it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about more than was needed. He would have to explain it to Gavin, and he was dreading that conversation enough on its own. Nines had his head resting on his arms which were folded on the end of the dock as he waited for Hank to settle. His smile faded some though when he saw him and Hank tried to school his expression. This was the last time they would be able to talk for a while and Hank wanted it to go well. He didn’t want himself or Nines to leave upset. “Something is doing bad things to your mind.” Nines said in way of a greeting, “Tell it to me.” Hank sighed and ran his hand down his face, “I have a friend coming from before I moved here, and he doesn’t know about you. He’ll be here tomorrow, and I don’t know how he’s going to react if he sees you so this might be the last time we talk for a while; and to be honest I’m not sure I want it to be.”

“I know I don’t want it to be.” Nines replied after some struggle to get the words out, “Do you know a way around it?” Hank laughed out a bitter sound that made Nines flinch away from him, “The call of a song not too unlike yours almost got to him, so unless he got okay with a lot of things real quick, or you magically became human for a week, then the answer is no.” He regretted his words as soon as he looked down to see that Nines was considering them, “Everything comes with an exchange. If I could figure something out before tomorrow, would you let me?” “If you run it by me first, don’t just agree to it.” He replied. It almost looked like Nines was going to reconsider, but he didn’t, “I should be back in a few hours. Could you meet me back here at sunset?” He nodded, “Of course. It’s one of the last nights we’ll get to be like this. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” Nines said something in his own language as he slipped back beneath the waves and Hank leaned forward to watch him disappear into the deep. When he couldn’t see him anymore he retreated back to his house to get the unused guest room ready. He wasn’t ready to be in close company with another person. Nines was enough. But Gavin was an old friend, and there were just some things you couldn’t refuse in that aspect. It would be uncomfortable, but he’d survived worse.

One wrestling match with a set of fitted sheets down and it was late enough that he made his way back to the dock. Nines was waiting for him again and there was another mercreature beside him who’s eyes were some how darker. There was a softness to this was features that was absent to Nines, and yet Hank trusted them less. “You have a plan I take it.” He said in way of a greeting. “An exchange of sorts.” The unnamed mercreature replied, and the hairs on the back of Hank’s neck stood on end. “Allow me to explain it Silas, you are not.... the most believable.” Nines cut in, “And you are only here to be a witness, this is not yours.” Silas seemed to bristle a little, but didn’t make any move to continue explaining things, which Hank was grateful for. Hank sat back away from the edge of the dock, and while Nines looked a little put out, he didn’t comment. “So your exchange?” Hank prompted, though he made a point not to look at Silas. Nines nodded, “My brothers can perform magic sort of.... for your understanding it is easier to call it magic. Anyway I can become human for as long as you like if in exchange you become a Siren when it comes time for me to turn back.” He explained, “It’s called a Sailor’s Promise in you tongue. But there is a catch, once you change neither of us can change back, so you have to be sure your ready.” His dark eyes drifted to where Sumo was standing and watching Silas and Hank understood. “I have to be sure there isn’t anything here I left unfinished.” He replied. “Exactly.” Nines agreed, “So what do you think.” “That I wish you would have told me sooner.” He laughed, “Honestly, if this is something you’re sure about, because you would be up here a while. I wouldn’t want you to miss home.”

“So you agree to take a Sailor’s Promise then?” Nines asked. “Yes.” There was no reason to hesitate. Silas vanished for a few moments, and he and Nines had some time alone. He took Hank’s hand but neither one of them said anything. The moment wasn’t something they wanted to disturb. After this they would get to belong to the same world and there would be nothing to go unsaid, so the silence for now was one of content. When Silas came back there was another siren with him that looked identical, if not a little more trust worthy. He looked toward Hank and then toward Nines with a look that was a little judgmental in Hank’s opinion. The had a short conversation in their own language, much of which involved Nines gesturing to Hank. “Alright.” The new siren said eventually, “You know this is going to be painful right?” “Yes, Connor I’m aware. I’ve seen it happen before. Now get on with it.” Nines snapped. Connor put his hands up placatingly and then he and Silas began to swim around Nines speaking in something that was deeper that the trills Hank was used to hearing. He wasn’t concerned until the water began to glow and bubble. He reached out for Nines only to have his hand batted away by one of the chanting sirens. Even with the warning the look of immense pain wasn’t something Hank had been ready to witness.

Given that it had felt like an eternity for him he didn’t want to imagine what it had been like for Nines, but when it finally ended Hank helped hoist him up on the dock. Once he was standing the next thing Hank did was take off his jacket so Nines had something he could cover himself with. When that was done, Hank looked into the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen and fell even more in love. It was something he had come to terms with in the years he and Nines spent around one another, but the feeling still manage to sweep him away. “You’re here.” He whispered reverently. Nines pressed their foreheads together with a smile, “I’m here.” The walk back up to the beach house was a crash course in Nines learning how to use his legs, but by the time they made it back he seemed to have a handle on it. Hank got him settled in what was now their room and searched for something warm for Nines. “I’ll need a human name.” He said. “Your name is fine.” Hank replied, “Humans use nicknames all the time, there’s nothing for you to worry about.” He handed Nines a set of fleece pajamas and stepped out of the room to let him get changed. Tonight he would get to spend time with Nines, and tomorrow he would have to face a part of his life that he had left behind. It didn’t seem as daunting now that he wouldn’t be alone. Though he supposed he wouldn’t have been alone, he would have had Sumo. The reason it wouldn’t be daunting was because Nines would be with him.

They stayed up later than they probably should have talking, but Nines had a lot of questions and Hank didn’t have it in him not to answer them. When it came time to go meet Gavin down at the shipping docks neither one of them had slept much, but Hank couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. Staying up like that just talking had made him feel young again, and he wouldn’t give that up for anything. He wasn’t ready to see Gavin again. It turned out sea faring hadn’t been kind to him either. He had his fair share of scars, a deep one across his nose and and old faded one on his neck were the two that concerned Hank the most. Gavin’s gaze lingered where his right forearm should have been, and Hank couldn’t blame him for staring, it was a lot to get used to. They exchanged their hellos and Gavin seemed to finally notice Nines. “Hello.” Nines greeted, “You must be Gavin, I am Nines.” Gavin shot Hank a look, likely confused by Nines’s stiff speech pattern, “It’s nice to meet you.” “You as well.” He replied and an awkward silence came over the three of them as they made their way back to the truck. “So you just go around collecting strays now?” Gavin asked eventually, “I woulda thought being on land for once would have broken you of that.” Nines bristled but seemed to settle when he laughed off the remark, “Nines isn’t a stray he’s my.... partner.” Hank waited for some kind of remark about the visible differences in their age, but it never came. Gavin only grinned, “Look at you, I never would have thought you one to settle down like this.” “I never would have thought it either, but here we are.” He took a moment to look at Nines who met his eyes with a smile.

“I’ve been thinking about going your way.” Gavin said when they got to the house, ‘Retiring, I mean. After my head injury I just can’t keep up anymore and it’s getting dangerous. I haven’t heard that song since you left, but something about being at sea these days makes me afraid.” “Then it sounds like it’s time to retire.” He replied, “This town has an opening for a ship-right. It has for a few years if you’re interested.” “Is that how..” He didn’t finish because Hank nodded. “I reacted too slowly. They saved what they could, but you can’t fix a ship with one arm.” He shrugged, “It’s what lead me to Nines though, so I can’t complain.” Gavin laughed, “If this is what I got for losing an arm, I wouldn’t complain either.” The conversation fell away while Hank got the door and Nines did his best to keep Sumo from flattening Gavin. They spent the evening exchanging stories and catching up, and Hank did what he could to include Nines. It was a resting night for the three of them. Gavin had to get used to being on land again, he and Nines needed to make up for the sleep they didn’t get. They turned in early with plans to show Gavin around town in the morning. “I didn’t realize you would be leaving so much life behind.” Nines said once they were alone, “Or I wouldn’t have offered the promise.” “Hey.” Hank said pulling Nines closer to him, “The life you’re thinking of is an old one, if there were anything worth staying here for I wouldn’t have agreed. Sumo has a few good years left, and then I am all yours.” Nines pressed their foreheads together but didn’t look anymore at ease, “Gavin will miss you.” “He’ll move on.” He replied, “This is the first time we’ve seen each other in over a decade.”

That seemed to be what it took to ease Nines’s worries and they finally went to bed. The week that followed passed without trouble, and Gavin took the next available ship out. He figured he wasn’t quite ready to go Hank’s way after all, they wished him well at the docks, and in the distance Hank could hear very faint music. He hoped, with some desperation that Gavin couldn’t. If Nines heard it he didn’t say anything. They spent five more years in that small sea side town. The man who sang with the sirens and his strange unaged lover. The odd couple and eventually an urban legend. When the time came that he had nothing to keep him on land, they walked into the sea without looking back.

Sailors tell many stories, all of them come back to the same thing. If you hear a song drifting over the water, cover your ears for it will lead you to your death. But then again, Hank had never been one for myths.

@dbh-supernatural-challenge

#Hank900 #Mer!Nines #Retired Sailor! Hank #dbhmagic #dbh fic #dbh #debilitating injury tw #amputation tw #week 2: Mermaids/Sirens

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elisa897 · 2 years

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Week 3: Harpies

Harpy Nines 😁

It was a real challenge to draw it, because I really don't know how to draw feathers 🤣🤣

@dbh-supernatural-challenge

#dbhmagic #week 3: harpies #dbh #dbh au #detroit become human #harpy!nines #rk900 nines #elisa897

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rjhpandapaws · 2 years

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A Child’s Laughter can be Something so Haunting

TW: Child death, death during childbirth, malicious intent, wavering reality, suicide, alcohol abuse

Week 4: Fae/Faeries

His ability to see through the Rift had been a comfort when he was young. He struggled to make human friends, but the creatures that came from the mist were always kind to him, well most of them were. His mother and grandmother alike had warned him not to listen to the ones that would try to lure him into the mist. Fae had been the word his grandmother used. Tricksters she had spat, nothing they offered came without a price. She told him the story of their sight. One wayward ancestor had made a deal with them in exchange for the ability to see the world that lay beyond theirs they had given up their first born. Somewhere along the line the fae realized the power they had given and now they wanted it back before it could be used for something untoward. If they could lure someone into the mist they could take it. So Hank learned to ignore the things that called to him from the mist, it was what was safest. At a certain age he stopped interacting with anything that fell through the mist. One because he was never quite sure what was or wasn’t a fae in disguise, and at a certain age it became ‘questionable’ to have imaginary friends. In time it became less of a gift and more of a curse. The knowledge he carried and couldn’t share. In ways it helped with his detective work, and other times it hindered it, especially in the cases when the deaths were magic gone wrong, or right in some cases. It was exhausting.

It became like white noise, something he could tune out without trying most days. He still kept the wards up on his house, he wasn’t a fool. He didn’t think much of it until he met Ezra, and she couldn’t come inside. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it. As she tried to step through the door he saw the faintest curl of smoke and was met with just as faint a smell of burning skin. Ezra was fae, or at the very least fae-touched. It was the necklace, his eyes were drawn to the glow of it. The metal was a bright red now, and was willing to bet if he reached for it he would have been able to feel the heat coming off of it. She smiled at him, and for a moment the Rift gave and he saw far too many teeth. “Come now Hank,” The thing that wasn’t Ezra said, “Won’t you let me in? You have something of mine after all.” “No.” He said firmly, “You aren’t welcome here. When you give her body back, let Ezra know, we’ve broken up.” Then he shut the door. Nine months later, he was called by the hospital to come pick up his son because Ezra had passed during childbirth. He should have known his life would have been a living hell after that. Fae always came for the first born, and Ezra at some point in her life had made a deal with them, and keeping Cole alive became a war. Hank knew he wasn’t going to win, but he had to try, this was his child too after all. Fae were malicious creatures, he should have been prepared in some aspect for them to use his ‘gift’ against him, but he hadn’t been, not after so many years of blissfully ignoring it. As it turned out, he was a fool in the end.

Officially speaking, what caused the accident was a combination of black ice and slow reaction time. Hank knew other wise, there had been a creature in the road that was reaching for his car. He had to swerve, it was necessary. If it got a hold of the car it would have taken Cole. In the end he supposed, it still got him. Complications during surgery, and predictably, Hank was left without his firstborn. With a gift like his he should have known his life wouldn’t have been easy. He would have been more cautious if he was smarter, but he knew the saying about hindsight. There was nothing he could have done. The Rift wanted Cole and no power or amount of caution would stop it from getting him. He put more wards up, because Cole belonged to the fae now and as much as Hank missed him, he didn’t want to see him again, not like that. Then he drank. He drank until Cole was a name he couldn’t remember and what lay beyond this reality was only a dream. There were no fae and he wasn’t damned. Then sobriety, or something close to that, would crash over him, and the world would come back into focus. At some point he lost his job, and that was about when the laughter started. It was Cole’s laugh, he could recognize it despite it having been close to four years since the last time he heard it, well the real version of it anyway. It was often accompanied by the sound of small feet running over the wooden floor of his hallway. This wasn’t his Cole, he knew that, it was what they had made Cole into, but when those wide blue eyes met his from across the table it was always so tempting to follow him down that hallway. At the end mist had begun to accumulate, he’d forgotten to reestablish his wards at some point and it was too late to bother with it now. He didn’t have the strength to lose Cole twice. Even if this one was wrong.

Russian roulette seemed like a logical next step. It was a game of luck, and his had been bad enough lately that he figured it would only be a matter of time. It wasn’t. Havin the revolver in one hand and a whiskey in the other kept his hands busy and he was less tempted to take the offered hand of the one that wasn’t Cole and head down the hallway. He had a feeling this not Cole was also the reason he kept losing at Russian roulette, his son was still in there somewhere. A soul couldn’t be entirely rewritten after all. That fog from the end of the hall began to spill into the rest of his house, so he put wards up in is room. This time he didn’t forget to remake them when they began to fade. Even if he was waiting to die there had to be a place in his house where he could pretend to be safe. He put a similar ward on Sumo’s collar, he wouldn’t let the one thing he had left be taken from him. Even if he chose to make it so the thing that was almost Cole could still pet him. He’d gotten Sumo as a gift for him after all, it would be unfair to take it away just because he had changed. The laughter didn’t stop, even when he would try with some level of futility to get his shit together. It would follow him to whatever place decided to hire him despite the obvious smell of whiskey that permeated every thing he owned. He would see Cole in the corner of his vision but he would disappear the moment Hank tried to focus on him. Not yet strong enough to exist fully outside of the house. Hank used this to his advantage and began to go home less and less. Cole’s laughter could still haunt him, but at the very least the thing pretending to be him couldn’t. Not without the strength it was trying to sap from him, and would get upon his death, and then of course, it would be pointless because Hank would be dead.

He began to live out of spite. For a while at least, he chose to believe he was getting better. Whiskey and Russian roulette were just part of his routine, and letting them go would cause everything else to fall apart. Then one night, what should have been a click, because there was only one bullet in the gun and Hank knew it’s position, was a bang. There was a sharp blinding pain, and just before there was nothing he heard Cole and he sounded enraged. “You can’t have him.” He said, “He is mine and I’m not done playing.” Then there was nothing. Until he woke up in the hospital anyway. Jeffery was seated in the corner of the room and he didn’t look happy. He was trying to look angry, but Hank could see the redness in his eyes that meant sleeplessness and tears. He’d seen it often enough in his own eyes to know. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.” Jeff said, “The hospital called after your neighbor reported hearing a gunshot.” He ran his hand down his face, “I thought I was going to lose you for real this time.” “It wasn’t supposed to go off, the bullet was supposed to be at the bottom.” He argued weakly. His voice came out as a haggard rasp of a whisper. “So you were trying to kill yourself.” Was the response he got, and Hank couldn’t exactly argue, “Why?” “Because my dead son is running around my house and giggling Jefferey, and I can’t take it anymore.” He would have said more, but he began coughing. Whatever tube had been down his throat, they hadn’t been gentle in taking it out.

“Have you considered sobering up?” He asked in that delicate but insensitive way only a close friend was able to really get away with. “Yes.” He snapped with as much venom as his sore throat would allow him, “It doesn’t help.” Whatever Jefferey was going to reply with was stolen away by the laughter of a child. He knew Jeff heard it because of the fear that crept across his features and the way he looked around the room and came away with nothing because he couldn’t see Cole standing in the shadow of the door. It was a small vindication, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. “That was Cole’s laugh.” Jeff said absently. “Yes.” He replied flatly, “It was.” “Cole is dead.” He said that with far more conviction, “I went to the funeral.” “Yes.” Hank’s voice wobbled, “He... is.” “But that was his laugh.” There was panic at the edge of his voice, “I know it was.” “Still think it’s the whiskey getting to me?” He asked. Jeff flinched, “I’m sorry. It was what seemed reasonable. I know you have that.... sense. But I just thought that, and the whiskey were playing tricks on you, I didn’t think it was a - a fucking haunting.” Hank laughed, and it fell into another coughing fit, “God I wish it was something as simple as a haunting.” Jeff looked at him but didn’t ask. Hank didn’t blame him. There was more going on here than he probably wanted to be involved him. It was better for them both if he stayed out of it. Jeff still had a family and Hank didn’t want to be the one to destroy that.

It was close to a year before he was discharged again. Hearing Cole’s laughter and the patter of his feet up in down the hallway outside his room. Along with the unfocused blur of his son in the guest chair of his room was what made him decide he wasn’t going to fail when he got home this time. If they wanted him so bad they could have him. He was so very tired. He was sure Jeff would understand. He wasn’t going to walk down the hall. He wasn’t going to give them exactly what they wanted. Fae were tricksters, he decided they needed to know how it felt to be tricked. They wanted his life, he would give them it’s end. There was no reason to try for luck. When he got back to the house he let Sumo out in the yard and then carefully turned the barrel of his revolver until the bullet was in the right place. The thing that wasn’t Cole was standing on the other side of the table. Hank had determined that was as far as his young magic would let him go, and there were tears in his wide blue eyes. It was almost enough to stop him, but this was the same creature that had been torturing him for years, so instead he pulled the trigger. Sharp pain, the sound of a child sobbing, and then pleasantly nothing. No hallways, no mist, and no creatures pretending to be his son, and no saving. Death came and finally he was free.

Hank’s family had paid a great cost for a gift that was never meant to be passed down. It began with a wayward ancestor who’s name had been lost to time, and it ended with Hank Anderson who came to rest in his kitchen in a halo of blood and a smile on his face.

#dbhmagic #week 4: Fae/Faeries #dbh Hank #dbh Cole #dbh fic #dbh #child death tw #possesion tw #mother death tw #magic with malicious intent tw #wavering reality tw #suicide tw #alcohol abuse tw

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