#rhett threads

[faunandfl0ra]

TIMING: Yesterday LOCATION: Wicked's Rest State Park PARTIES: Conor & Rhett @ironcladrhett SUMMARY: A walk in the national park turns into a trip down memory lane for some, nightmare alley for others. CONTENT WARNINGS: Sibling death (mention)

In the two months he had been living in Maine, Conor hadn’t really thought about taking a look around town, or beyond. The shop was often busy, and when it wasn’t, he liked to retire in his backyard, which was beginning, day after day, to look like the disorganized, flowery, luscious haven he wished to spend his evenings in. When he didn’t do that, he generally settled with his violin in his bedroom, rehearsing for hours. 

Going out was never really his priority. His garden counted as going out to him. He didn’t need to be with people to do that. His garden was fine. 

He didn’t particularly seek the company of others today either. 

Conor wasn’t much of a hiker, but he figured the state park would have greenery worth the trouble. He hadn’t packed much aside from a bottle of water, and he hadn’t told a soul about where he was going or for how long. It was Sunday, he didn’t need to tell the whole town about what he did on Sundays, right? 

On his way toward a stream, he had to stop to look at the purple and yellow irises growing there. “Well aren’t you a beauty,” he smiled, crouching down to take a closer look. 

—

Spend more time in the woods, his brother had told him. Warned him, more like. There was a reason he was trying to keep Rhett from the lake, and while the warden couldn’t fathom what it could be, he could do what Emilio asked. For a little while, anyway. 

As such, today found him wandering through the state park, his posture relaxed enough that it was almost as if he was just on a stroll and not on the constant lookout for fae or fae-related activity. Still, the scabbard hanging from his hip and the rifle slung over his back told a different story—not that he cared much about appearances. He looked dangerous, and anyone that he encountered that had nothing to fear from him would do well to stay away anyway, because he was in a sour mood after failing to kill that fucking lake nymph. 

A buzz crawled over his skin and he stopped dead, wide eyes scanning the area. His vision might be shit, but his fae-dar was impeccable, especially in a place like this. Crowds of people and monsters were another story. 

Moving stealthily, the warden drew his sword and twisted it in his hand, his breath catching in his throat when he finally saw the source of the claws that scratched at the backs of his eyes. Some… whatever it was, crouched down admiring flowers. Cute. Those purple and yellow buds were about to get a fresh paint job, though.

He crept up behind the figure, careful with the knowledge that it might have some kind of advanced hearing, moving as slow as he could. Crouched down among the ferns, focused fully on his victim to-be, he didn’t notice the crystal poking up from beneath the foliage his palm brushed through, his fingertips dragging along its smooth surface for a brief second or two before moving on to the rough bark of the tree that stood beside him.

When the fae started to move again, Rhett moved faster, closing the distance in about a second and pressing his iron blade to its neck as his hand gripped it by the opposite shoulder. He should have slit its throat then and there, but curiosity got the better of him. “What are ya?” He could only tell a nymph by feeling alone, and this one had a different flavor of irritation. 

—

Conor left the flowers where they belonged. He couldn’t bring these back to his place. They’d die there. Then, if he managed to dig a pond in his backyard, perhaps he could invest in those sorts of plants next year. He’d have to worry about mosquitoes, but he supposed there were easy ways to get rid of them. 

Lost in his train of thoughts, he paid no mind to the sounds in his back, up until it became clear those were footsteps, and coming from someone way too close to him. Now was not the time to freak out, yet, Conor couldn’t stop himself from focusing more than it was comfortable on the sharp, cold yet burning thing pressed to his neck, or the strong hand gripping at his shoulder. He didn’t like strangers touching him. He knew he was tense, and yet any noise that could have helped him get help got caught up in his throat. And why was that knife burning him? 

The stranger spoke. He didn’t sound nice, or from around here. 

Conor didn’t attempt to take a look at him. He didn’t dare move. Still, he had to answer his question. “What do you mean?” His voice quivered as he stammered his way through the short sentence. “I’m just hiking, I’m not gonna do anything.” 

—

“Didn’t ask what yer doin’, idjit. Asked what ya are. Know you’re fae, no point in lyin’ ‘bout it. Wanna know what kind afore I cut yer damn head off. Why don’tcha let that pretty li’l disguise’ah yours drop, eh? Would love tah see what ya really look like.” 

As if to back up this threat, Rhett’s cutlass pressed more firmly into the fae’s neck, his grip moving from the creature’s shoulder to grab a fistful of its unruly hair. 

“Come on… rude to keep a fella waitin’,” Rhett warned a final time, leaning his head down to speak directly into his prey’s ear, just in case he wasn’t being heard. 

—

The hunter did a good job of exposing Conor’s neck, of making him entirely vulnerable. What could he possibly do now, to break free from his strong hold. With a whimper, Conor slowly raised his hand up, before him. He didn’t want to do the other harm, simply to get out of harm’s way.

It would be disappointing to see the end of the path today. He had just began the process of letting his brother back into his life. Disappearing would leave a bitter taste of unfinished business in his younger brother’s mouth, and Conor hated to be the sort to keep on letting him down. He had just introduced himself back to the Bostonian man, all to be murdered weeks later. What a shame. 

“I’m a…” He winced. The other’s lips brushed against his ear lobe, too close, his voice too loud for his sensitive ears. With that stimulation, they turned back to their natural aspect, pointier, goat-like, and it wasn’t long before Conor’s legs took on a more hairy and complicated aspect, his bushy hair parted on his temples, revealing curled horns. “Please, I… I don’t do people harm.” He tried not to wince. That wasn’t quite right, but the other didn’t need to know it.

___

Was a divine damn thing, seeing one of their kind shed the human disguise it used to masquerade in a place it didn’t belong. He pulled back a bit as those ears changed, gaze traveling down the creature’s body as more of it shifted, then back up again to see the horns that’d appeared on its head. 

“Ah.” The usual plea. “Faun.” As far as murderous fae went, faun were a little lower on the totem pole—he could recall a time when he’d have left most of them well enough alone, provided they weren’t hurting anyone. But unfortunately for this faun, those days were gone. 

“No? Y’ain’t never killed no one? Find that hard’tah believe, goat. Easy t’go overboard. Never had an accident, then? Yer the pinnacle of control?” His tone carried a sharp, poisonous edge to it, not unlike the one digging into the faun’s flesh. “Be honest, I know it’s terrible painful to lie. You ever killed anyone?”

—

"You've killed before," Conor countered. No one in their right mind would walk up on someone like that with a knife if they weren't metaphorically screaming bloody murder from a mile away. "Doesn't mean you should die for it, does it?" Conor knew some of his fae pals would disagree. 

He was ashamed of his feats enough as it was. He didn't need the fae police to come and slap him on the hand (or much worse) about it. So yes, Conor's tone was harsh, and the faun was once again cranky. It would be terrible to die having renounced his ideals. It would be strange for it to be any different with that damn blade burning against his neck. 

With a heave of his shoulders, Conor took another calming breath. "I was raised by humans. I don't know the ways of my kin," which was why he had accidents. "I'm so sorry. I don't mean to do people harm," most of the time, he didn't. Karens and Kyles had it coming.

—

“That’s where yer wrong, bucko. I’ve killed, sure. I’ve killed lots. Fae, undead, shifters… don’t make much difference to me, so long as they ain’t human. But fae really key me up like nothin’ else, yanno? All those fuckin’ tricky ways you lot like to talk… sucker some poor human into doin’ whatever you tell ‘em to, into hurtin’ the people they love, all with yer god damn fuckin’ words…” It was getting personal, clearly. “But all that killin’ I’ve done? It does mean I should die for it. In fact, I plan to. Just not today.”

He shoved down on the faun’s shoulder to force it to its knees, sucking in a deep, wavering breath. “Save yer fuckin’ apologies,” he bit out, wondering why his throat felt so tight. “You might not mean to, but ya do. Ya do all kinds’ah fuckin’ harm all the fuckin’ time—” What remained of his vision had grown blurry, and there was a sound in his ear like a mosquito that just wouldn’t leave. “I—” His thoughts had gone foggy and he felt… he felt… oh, no. Not now. His mind abandoned him, separating from his body in a metaphorical sense, leaving him hollow and confused. 

“Gonna kill ya,” he muttered, tightening the grip on his sword, almost like he was trying to remind himself why he was there. “Gonna…” His dark gaze dropped down to the top of the faun’s head and the world around him felt spinny. It felt wrong. 

“Look at me,” came the command, soft but stern. He only waited a half-second before demanding again, louder and more fraught with emotion. “Look at me, goat! Look at me!” His eyes were wide and wild and brimming with tears as the faun finally met his gaze, and a choked sob was barely bitten back as he took in the other’s visage. 

Fuck’s sake, he looked a lot like Desmond. 

It. It looked a lot like Desmond. But it wasn’t. Dez was dead. Dead a long time ago. Not lookin’ up at him from his knees, horned and fuzzy-eared—

“Dez,” he groaned, still holding his sword out in a threatening sort of way, though it was clear that he was… elsewhere. Agony turned to frustration and he tried to shake off whatever was ailing him, but it was no use. God, why did this thing look so much like his brother? 

—

The tricky ways his lot liked to talk? That didn’t speak to him. He hadn’t met many fae, but the few he did meet were kind to him, even Cass, and she had destroyed his front door. Some were scared, hiding, disgusted with themselves, some took being fae as something more than an identity, making it their duty, and some just wanted to live their life. He was a bit of that, although Conor had avoided looking at his reflection over the years. 

His knees hit the ground as he reflected on his situation, how unfair it all was, and how fair it all was. It was unfair to his mother. She’d never know why he stopped writing. To his brother and to him. He expected a response from him, and he wanted to reconnect with him. But deep down, Conor knew that none of this mattered. This man was right. He was a murderer. He didn’t mean to, but more than once, he was unable to stop his feeding process and people had died. Of course it looked like heart attacks, and he was coined as the unlucky witness. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

His eyes fell on the flowers. If he was gonna die, he might as well be looking at something beautiful. The thought brought a sad smile to his face. 

And then that cruel man demanded he looked at him. And that’s when he saw his face, at this awful man calling him a goat. He was not a fucking goat. The faun’s lip quivered and he wrinkled his nose in anger, in disgust. 

“What?!” he spat. Who the fuck was Dez. “Why are you doing this? You don’t need to do this. Please.” 

__

Something was wrong. This wasn’t the usual bout of dissociation, something else was happening and he didn’t know what. He felt furious and tormented in the same breath, like there was some terrible, heavy truth weighing down on him that he’d been hiding for centuries. 

But that was ridiculous. So what, then? Why did he feel like the world was fucking ending? He was just here to kill a goddamn goat. Kill the faun. Focus. Focus. Breathe. 

“I do need to,” he argued, unsure why he was even bothering talking to it. Just cut the head off and be done with it. “Y’don’t understand… I gotta.” Why? Because he’d been raised for it? That hadn’t mattered to him back when Dez was still alive. In fact, he’d often been the one sticking up for fae when his brother wanted to kill them. 

But that was why, wasn’t it? Because his trust had been misplaced, and it had gotten his brother killed. And the one who did it—she’d gotten away. It was her fault. Her fault. The fault of all fae, just like this one. But if he hadn’t made that promise—

Fury decorated with a golden filigree of sorrow wrapped around him like chains and he gasped for breath. He couldn’t do this. The faun was begging for its life and where that would normally delight him, now it made him feel ill. He tried to think about what could have changed. He retraced his steps in his mind, as serpentine as they were and as much as his thoughts wanted to fully disconnect from themselves. None of it made sense.

“Get out of here,” he snarled, unable to combat the feeling of damnation that had taken his whole person in a vice-like grip. Fuck it. Fuck it, he needed to be alone, and killing this thing felt like too much effort for arms that refused to work, to do what his brain tried to tell them. “I said git!” Again, the command was barked louder and only a half-second after the first. Rhett took a step back, his sword thudding to the forest floor as his hands rose to instead tangle themselves into his mane of silver hair. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this, not ever. Not anymore. He didn’t feel shit anymore. He needed to ground himself. Needed to do his steps, run through his routine, until this went away. 

____

"Why? Who told you that?" Conor's eyes would have rather looked anywhere else than at that terrible, terrible man's face, but he could feel a change and maybe this would be his only chance. “I don’t fucking understand, no, but… you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Please.” He felt like every single time he pleaded, the clock just ticked closer toward the inevitable, and yet he couldn’t stop saying that damn word. If that man allowed him, he would say it again.

Around them, things were undisturbed. Perhaps could he find solace in being surrounded by such beauty for his final moments ?

The water was still streaming next to him, and the scent of the flowers still perfumed the ambient air. Soon, there would only be the smell of blood, but the calm would last because all in all, he knew he was insignificant and that the neighborhood would be more disturbed by the absence of a florist than by the absence of the florist. Hermetic to the torments that shook the hunter, the faun was about to leave, but certainly not in such a literal way.

The bad man barked, and Conor didn't immediately understand what that meant. It didn't make any fucking sense, and he stood for a moment, a second at most, staring at him, looking confused as well as offended. What the fuck, he thought.

And yet, it didn't take long for him to do exactly what was asked of him, once again. Conor didn't necessarily have much affection for authority figures, but he preferred not to upset assholes who carried a sword behind their backs. The sound of metal hitting the floor. He remembered covering his ears then, almost mirroring his opponent, but not for long. Before the hunter regained his composure, the faun would be long gone. 

—

It was illogical, what he was doing. There was no reason that beheading the faun should feel so fucking difficult, but it did, and he was telling it to leave before he’d taken care of things. Stupid. Stupid. 

Who told you that? Everyone. Everyone he’d ever known, even though he’d not believed it for the first twenty-some-odd years of his life. They didn’t all have to die, he’d argued. The ones that weren’t hurting anyone on purpose, they didn’t have to die. They needed tools, that was all. Tools to help them control what the universe had given them, to make their own choices. Like he was making his own, despite what he and his brother had been taught growing up. 

That was a time when ‘it’ had been ‘she’, and she had been the love of his life. The one that showed him nothing but beauty and a kind of grace that he lacked, but had aspired to. She was everything, until she took everything. His love, his family, his unborn child. Gone in a second. Gone like his choice to spare any of them, ever.

Except for now. Because there were voices in his head screaming at him to stop, voices he’d never heard before. Phantom hands, not real in any capacity but still able to grasp him as though they were, dragged the warden to his knees where he wept. He wept for some unknown anguish, foreign to him but coursing through his bloodstream like it was his own. 

The faun was gone, but that didn’t stop the feeling. It went on, and on, pulling him to the forest floor where it would keep him for the better part of two days. 

#ironcladrhett #faun and flora | threads #rhett threads #sibling death tw #wickedswriting

[borawinters]

closed for: @callme-harris

"How do you think your cover is faring over at Oasis?" Bo asks the man to his left, thinking aloud. Harris' night off was well-deserved, but on one of the rowdiest nights of the year Bo couldn't help but wonder what hands his club was in.

#closed starter. #thread. #ft. rhett harris. #harris 001. #event: masquerade ball. #aurorabay.masquerade #callmeharris

[letsbenditlikebennett]

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @ironcladrhett @magmahearts & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Rhett can sense there's a fae nearby and ends up following Cass towards the Magmacave where she's meeting Alex for date night. Having met Rhett before, Cass is friendly... Rhett? Not so much. CONTENT: Eye trauma, unsanitary (blood)

Date night was something Cass took pretty seriously now that she had a designated date night partner. There were so many things Alex hadn’t experienced throughout her life — an unfortunate side effect of her upbringing and her parents, the oread knew. It made her angry to think about, sometimes, made her upset to know that her girlfriend had suffered so much under the ‘care’ of people who made an active effort not to understand her… but it also meant she got to be the one to help rectify that. And that wasn’t all bad. She could show Alex the best movies, introduce her to the coolest comics. She got to be there to see the way the other girl’s face lit up when she experienced all of that for the first time, and that was a good thing.

It also meant that Cass was bound and determined to make everything as special as she could. She knew what Alex liked now, and she always made an effort to make sure she had as much of it as possible. Everything in the Magmacave was ready for a new kind of movie night. A projector she’d ‘acquired’ from Walmart that worked with her phone, a bunch of snacks she’d stored away just for this moment, blankets and pillows of every shape and size… It was bound to be one for the history books, she thought. She was just finishing up her very last snack run before Alex’s arrival, grocery bags slung over her arms as she made her way back to the cave with the less ‘nonperishable’ of movie night snacks. It was perfect. It was going to be perfect. 

She walked towards the cave with a spring in her step, pausing momentarily at the sound of something rustling behind her. If this was a monster that was going to ruin movie night — or worse, try to steal her carefully acquired snacks — she was going to be mad. Cass turned around, putting a hand to her hip as she prepared to scare off whatever animal was there, only to come face to face with a man instead. He looked familiar, though it took her a moment to place him. “Hey, I know you. You were at Alan’s that one time, right? With the pool!” She offered him a bright smile. “You probably shouldn’t be out here at night time. There’s animals and stuff in the woods, you know? You don’t wanna get eaten!”

—

It had been happenstance, really, that he saw the fae girl at the store. He’d not even been inside, but walking past outside when he felt that familiar, horrible feeling that accompanied the presence of fae. Diverting his path and forgoing whatever plans he’d had in mind, Rhett followed the sensation until the girl was in his sights, then tailed her at a respectable distance. She seemed distracted, which was good, or she might’ve noticed sooner that she had a shadow that was following her out of town and towards the Flat. He dropped back even further as their location became more and more remote, careful to just use his senses to keep track of her, even when he couldn’t see her. Not like his eyes were much fucking good, anyway.

She stopped, he stopped. Must have reached her destination, then. Or—oh. No. She’d spotted him. But she wasn’t scared, she was smiling. She recognized him. 

He managed to mirror the emotion, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Aye, with the pool,” he confirmed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “That so? Well, don’t worry, I think I can handle any ol’ animal what wants to tango with me,” the warden chuckled. He glanced past her at the cave, brow raised. “You live in there?” he asked. “No judgment… live out the van, myself. Cool cave.”

—

What was he doing out here, she wondered? Had he seen her and grown concerned? It wasn’t entirely unheard of for people to worry when they saw someone Cass’s age walking alone into the woods at night, and he had met her at Alan’s, so maybe he felt some… silly sense of responsibility. It might have been exciting if she didn’t know it would likely be a temporary thing. Most adults only cared about a kid until it stopped being convenient for them to do so, and she doubted Alan’s boyfriend was any different in that regard. 

She glanced back to the cave with a shrug, opting not to answer the question verbally. He said he wouldn’t judge, but… Wait. He lived in a van? Cass squinted at him. Hadn’t Aria said the man who’d put her in his van had long gray hair, too? Uneasiness crept down the oread’s spine, but she was quick to shove it away. Alan trusted this guy, and Alex trusted Alan. It was probably just a coincidence, wasn’t it? “What are you doing out here, anyway? Just walking around? It’s kind of late for a hike, moke.” She let her tone take on a teasing lilt in spite of her uneasiness. It wasn’t fair to be suspicious of him, not really. Driving a van and having long hair wasn’t a crime or anything.

—

“Oh, night time walks are pretty much the only thing keepin' me sane these days,” Rhett laughed, though the gesture of friendliness didn't quite meet his eyes. It never seemed to, these days. He thought about how he needed to get in closer without spooking her off, and decided to lean into the misinterpretation she and Alex had had regarding his relationship with Alan. Or lack thereof, if you were the type that cared about semantics. Rhett was not one of those people. 

“Anyway, Alan says it's good fer me, so here I am. Walkin' out all the ol' troubles.” He was doing a pretty good job of being convincing, or so he thought. “Spotted you not far back... sorry I didn't call out sooner. Didn't wanna scare you. Guess followin' you ain't a much better choice, eh? Whoops.” He shrugged. “Say, Alex ain't around, is she? Been meanin' to ask her for a wee favor in regards to the grumpy ol' man back home, but ah... if she's here, could just get it outta the way now. You know how it is, I ain't great with the technology.” Now he was just lying, but it didn't really matter if this fae was going to die in the next ten minutes, did it? Besides, he felt this was a pretty decent way of making sure she was alone before moving in for the kill. Or... kidnapping. Again? Couldn't rightly kill her here, what if someone else did show up? What then? No, there'd have to be a secondary location. Didn't matter much where, just not here.

—

Old people did like night time walks, actually. Cass was pretty sure she’d seen commercials featuring old people walking at night while a disembodied voice read off a list of potential side effects, so it made sense that Rhett would rely on them. They probably kept him feeling young, or whatever. 

The oread softened a little at the mention of Alan, too, thinking of the two of them at Alex’s mentor’s house the night with the pink pool. Most of it was a little hazy — in retrospect, she so should have recognized the whole ‘high on mushrooms’ thing way before she had — but she remembered thinking they seemed good together. Balanced each other out, in a way, with Alan’s seriousness and Rhett’s willingness to join in on her and Alex’s little game.

“Yeeeaaah,” she said with a small laugh, “following a girl alone in the woods at night isn’t the best way to avoid scaring her, dude. But that’s okay.” At the mention of her girlfriend, she perked up a little. “Oh, she’s not here right now, but we’re meeting up later. I could pass along the message for you? No offense, but I don’t really want you crashing date night with my girl.” She wrinkled her nose at him, a teasing glint in her eye. 

—

“Ah! Of course, totally get that, no problem. Here, ah…” He patted his pockets for a second before fishing out a scrap of paper and a pen. “I’ll write it down just in case, howzat?” Not giving her much time to respond, the warden scribbled… well, nothing. It was just scribbles. Clicking the pen shut, he pocketed it again before folding the paper and closing the distance to hand it to Cass. “‘Preciate it, kid.” 

As he held out his hand, waiting for her to accept the paper, his heartbeat quickened. And when she mirrored the motion to take it, he struck out like a viper. The paper was dropped as that hand came to circle her wrist instead, the other jumping to her throat. He wasted no time with words, simply twisting them both around until he stood behind her, pinning her arms to her own torso while the other jumped to cover her mouth and stop her screaming. Alex was coming, and there was no telling when she’d arrive. Couldn’t stay here. Rhett began to back away from the cave entrance, dragging the nymph into the brush with some difficulty but not too much, thanks to his superior strength.

—

“Oh, that’s a really good idea!” If he wrote it down, they wouldn’t have to play the telephone game and whatever it was he needed to say wouldn’t have to go through Cass before getting to Alex. She’d probably have a hard time remembering it; when Alex was around, most of Cass’s thoughts were reduced to the gay kind. Rhett writing his thing down was a relief, and she waited patiently as he scribbled. It looked like it was probably going to be messy — she hoped Alex would be able to read it.

When he held out the page, she flashed him a quick grin and reached for it. But before her fingers could close against the paper, he grabbed her. His hand around her wrist was like a vice grip, too tight and bruising. The way he twisted her arm behind her hurt, too; she felt something snap under the pressure, but the resulting scream was muffled by the sudden presence of a second hand covering her mouth. The pain was momentarily blinding, and she checked out for half a second. When she was back to herself, she was already moving. Already being moved. He was dragging her away from the cave, and that was bad. She needed to be in the cave. She didn’t understand what he was doing or why, but she knew she didn’t want it, so she fought back. She kicked at his knees as best she could, tried to bite the hand over her mouth. Her glamour dropped, and she kept screaming throughout even though it was muffled. What was this? Why was he doing this? She didn’t understand.

—

Nearly the whole trek to the magmacave, Alex found herself wishing that she could convince Cass to stay at the cabin with her. She wasn't under some illusion that anywhere in Wicked's Rest was safe, but she at least knew there was no goo at the cabin for the time being. Every time she saw one of the faces around town, entrapped in the sludge that hardened around them, Alex couldn't help but see Cass. The pure black of the sludge was different from the obsidian and magma that made up her girlfriend. Light didn't catch the abnormality or the sludge in quite the same way. It was like there was only darkness there and it scared the hell out of her. She supposed that was part of the problem now. Her heart was too full. There were too many who's single misstep into the goo could break her. She didn't want to keep being a broken thing, not when she was only starting to piece together what she looked like as whole. 

Still, Alex wasn't going to let her own worries ruin date night. She was dating a superhero, a little bit of danger came with the territory. If she stopped Cass from protecting her cave, she'd be asking for her to give up some fundamental to who she was. It was part of her. That bravery and dedication to protecting her little piece of nature was something Alex loved about Cass. She found her cheeks grew flush at the thought and she held the little pouch of rocks she'd collected close to her chest. 

Her feet followed the familiar path to the cave and Alex smiled at the way she knew the way like the back of her own hand now. It was a pretty thought that was rudely interrupted as she heard what sounded like a whisper of a scream, as if it had been stamped or drowned out, and she felt something shift in her. All of her senses went into overdrive and she followed the sound of footsteps and dragging ahead past the cave. 

Part of her wanted to call out, but Alex didn't dare alert anyone to her presence. She could hear sounds and while there was no scream that followed, something heavy was dragging against the forest floor along with the footsteps and she had to follow it. She could smell Cass and something else vaguely familiar. 

She ran past the cave with careful steps. Alex moved as quickly as she could, avoiding patches of dead leaves that would crumble under her steps and alert someone to her presence. It had been a good move because when she rounded a tree, she was taken aback by what she saw. Cass's glamour was off and she could see a charred mark around her wrist. 

Then there was Rhett, holding her by the throat with hand over her mouth and Alex felt sick. What was this? She knew. Part of her knew right away, but it couldn't be right. Cass wasn't a monster to be hunted. It didn't compute in her mind despite what her eyes were showing her. Her eyes had to be betraying her. 

“Cass,” she called, “Rhett.” She looked between the two, begging for the picture to adjust and show her anything else, but it never did. Her fists clenched at her side and her features hardened as she found herself glaring at the warden. “Let go of her,” she demanded coldly, “Now.“ 

—

Rhett paid the screams no mind, determined to get Cass away from the cave mouth before someone came along. Someone like Alex. But, as was typical of late, the universe had other ideas, and those ideas consisted of throwing as massive a wrench in his plans as possible. 

Goddamnit.

“Doin’ you a favor, kid.” There was no surprise in Alex’s voice to see the nymph looking the way it did now, glamour dropped. That didn’t make things easier. She was a fae sympathizer. Fuck. Well, there was no point in trying to haul it off somewhere else before killing it, now. The thought that it might traumatize Alex to see her friend be killed crossed his mind but he didn’t care—just like he didn’t care about the fact that this would certainly… complicate things. He’d be alienating himself again. From Alex, which was no great loss, but then also probably from Alan, who he had a feeling she’d tattle on him to. That one hurt a little, but there was nothing to be done about it. The fae had to go. He’d wanted to see if it knew of anyone in the area named Ophelia, but that wasn’t gonna happen now. No, all he could do was draw his iron dagger and press it to Cass’ temple, his battle-hardened gaze fixed on Alex.

“Go on, nymph. Tell yer girl here how you’ve definitely never ever hurt someone. Definitely never killed anyone with yer promise binds.” It was literally a shot in the dark, but honestly, Rhett had met more fae that had killed with their words than he’d met ones that hadn’t. Not that it mattered, not that it’d stop him from burying that blade in the creature’s skull. But maybe, just maybe, it’d give Alex some clarity on the situation.

—

She was afraid, and she hated that. She hated the way her heart was pounding, the fact that she couldn’t think straight. She was a superhero. She was supposed to be a superhero. And what good was a superhero if she was trembling? What was a terrified hero worth? 

(About as much as a dead one, she thought, and if the hand around her throat was any indication, she’d be that soon, too.)

She kicked and struggled and screamed against the hand still pressed over her mouth, but Rhett was strong. It was like he didn’t notice her struggles at all, like she was a fly pounding against a glass someone had trapped her in. Her arm hurt where he’d twisted it; she thought she could feel bones grinding together in a way they really shouldn’t have been, like maybe something had broken. And the only thought her half-hysterical mind could come up with was that she’d never had an x-ray before. She’d only ever seen them on TV.

There was a quiet vibration of approaching footsteps, muted by her panic. She screamed against Rhett’s hand again, as loud as she could, and it was shameful. She wasn’t someone who needed saving. She was supposed to be the one who did the saving, supposed to be brave and fearless and invincible. But she saw a flash of red hair cutting through the brush, and all she could feel was a crushing relief because Alex was here. Alex was here, and Cass would be safe because Alex wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

The hand covering her mouth vanished, but Cass had only a moment to bask in the relief of it before something cold pressed against her temple. Even without the sharpness actually being driven in, the mere presence of the metal against her skin hurt. She didn’t understand it for a moment. Not until she remembered what Alex and Teagan had told her about fae and iron, about how there were metals made to kill her. Cass froze all at once, terrified that any continued struggle might make that blade find its home in her skull.

Rhett spoke; she felt the vibration of his voice rise up from his chest, like a dragon growling into the darkness. Her heart stuttered, because how had he known about that? How did he know about Kuma? Her eyes darted to Alex, fear suffocating her just as much as the hand gripping her throat. If Alex knew, would she leave Cass here? Would she walk away the same way everyone always had? 

“How many people have you killed?” She ground out, her voice distorted by the lack of glamour and strained by the hand around her throat. “You want to — want to talk about hurting people? You’re the one with the knife.”

Avoidance. It was a good way to lie without lying. Cass had always been so good at that.

—

There was a breath of a second where Alex found herself unable to move. She didn't trust herself to move. Every muscle in her body was already tensed as she watched the pained, contorted expression on Cass's face and the way Rhett seemed almost amused by it. Her arrival seemed to be more an annoyance than anything else and she wasn't sure she had ever felt so much anger coursing through her. It took everything in her to not snarl and pounce the moment she saw him, but maybe he didn't know. 

How could Rhett know that Cass was a superhero? How could he know that she spent her nights looking for people to help? She was good, maybe if he knew that, it'd make a difference. She wanted so badly for it to make a difference.

It was naive. Alex knew as much. Without the beard, there was no hiding the determined look on his face. There was a stubbornness in the tightness of his jaw that she recognized too well and even his touch was hurting Cass. “You're not doing anyone any favors here,” she spat, “Cass is good. She saves people and picks up litter... Doesn't look like you bothered to ask that though.” 

Because Alex knew that when he happened upon her, Cass hadn't been doing anything out of the ordinary. She was at the cave, probably about to get it all set up for their date night. She wasn't hurting anybody and here he was, holding her tightly in his grip like she was a thing that needed to be put down. He wouldn't even say her name. Her fists curled into balls at her side. “I don't need a man to tell me anything about my girl,” she barked out, “I know everything I need to know about Cass and she's good.” 

'Unlike you,' she thought bitterly. 

But then the iron blade was pressing into Cass's temple and Alex knew this was useless. That look in Rhett's eyes reminded her too much of her father's. There was no reasoning with that look and suddenly all the anger she had finally allowed herself to feel towards her parents had a convenient outlet. 

Alex let the green backpack slide off her shoulder and into the mess of fallen leaves on the ground. She thought of warning the warden this was his last chance to get away unscathed, but a warning was more kindness than Rhett deserved. Even with her true face, stony as it was, Alex could see the fear in her glowing eyes and her voice was so strained. He did that. 

She didn't let her eyes leave Rhett as she focused on the shift. Alex had been practicing and even had some success when it came to tracking down Gael with Ren, but she always closed her eyes when she pictured her own shift. She found she couldn't do that now and her glare remained trained on Rhett as she focused on the feelings in her body. She felt the ground beneath her boots and concentrated on how it felt when it was the forest floor beneath her paws. She imagined Rhett as the moose, muscles and sinew pulling apart beneath her claws and teeth. She remembered that feeling of connection that came with being part of a pack and how she felt more connected to Cass than any of the werewolves she knew. 

Alex tuned into how the werewolf in her felt when it was protecting Alan and she felt the claws emerging from her fingers. It stung lightly in the way they ripped from her skin, but it felt almost natural now, like slipping out of her sports bra at the end of a long day. Her bones creaked under her and red tufts of fur emerged from her skin, but icy blue eyes stayed trained on the warden, as if she could pounce mid shift if he so much as moved another inch to hurt Cass. 

She stood taller once her bones all shifted into place and drool was already hanging from angry jowls as she snarled at the warden. One last chance, the wolf thought. If her mark moved a muscle, she would tear out his gut and leave him there on the forest floor. 

—

“I don’t kill people, I kill abominations. I kill killers. S’what I was made for.” Rhett’s expression was callous, his heart unsympathetic to the claims that the nymph in his grasp had done good things in its life. That didn’t matter, that didn’t make up for the bad. Hell, it didn’t even make up for the potential bad, as far as he was concerned. That was what he’d been taught. They’d all do bad, given enough time. It wasn't their fault, not entirely. It was just in their nature. But that didn’t mean he had to sit by and let it happen. And he wouldn’t, not if he could help it. Not ever. 

There was something about Alex’s body language that felt threatening, and soon enough, the warden was made to see why. Ah. Well… that was… a surprise. His eyes narrowed, his grip on the fae tightening. He didn’t have a lot of experience fighting werewolves, or at least… not shifted ones. He knew a bite from one would be his undoing, if it didn’t kill him. Which it seemed like Alex kind of wanted to do. Couldn’t blame her. Didn’t change anything, except that he’d have to try and kill her as well. 

Hey, at least then maybe the news wouldn’t make it back to Alan. Silver linings. 

The werewolf was staring him down like he’d be an easy meal, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what he looked like to the supernatural things he killed. Hm. Wasn’t really food for thought. To the matter at hand—Rhett wrenched his arm up beneath the oread’s chin to hold its head in place so he could drive the blade into its temple, but he’d barely pierced the soft, thin space between rocky plates when the werewolf adjacent to him leaped forward, claws reaching out and slashing across his face, massive digits hooking around his head and ripping him away from the nymph. His blade did find purchase, but it was in the top of the fae’s shoulder, digging deep before his grip on it yanked it back out as he was thrown to the forest floor. He screamed, not out of fear but out of anger, feeling the adrenaline dump in his system as he wrestled with the beast atop him, trying to avoid a bite from those slobbering jaws.

—

Abominations. Killers. The words were hurled out in a way that was so matter of fact, not even spoken to Cass. Like she wasn’t worth speaking to at all, like she was nothing. She thought of the nymphs back on the island who’d never seen her as anything more than an inconvenience, of the kids she’d met throughout her ‘adventures’ as a homeless teen who were lost and traumatized just like she was and didn’t know how to get away from that without using someone else as a stepping stone. She thought of Kuma, of the look on her face when she’d finally seen Cass in her true form, of the fear in her eyes when she spat out the word monster instead of her name and told her never to come back. 

So many people, throughout her life, had treated her like she was nothing at all. She’d been a problem in the making in Hawai’i, a ticking timebomb whose eruption no one had wanted to be in the blast zone of. After, when she’d found herself alone on the mainland, she’d been largely ignored. Homeless kids were hard to look at, after all. They made people feel ways they didn’t like feeling, and it was so much easier for someone to avert their gaze than it was to do anything to help. Kuma hadn’t been a bad person, either, not really. She’d been afraid, but not malicious. Cass had just been a little too much for her, the same way she was a little too much for everyone. 

But she wasn’t too much for Alex. 

Alex didn’t look at her like she was nothing, didn’t avert her eyes. In fact, Alex looked at her like she was everything. She looked angry right now, but not at Cass. Never at Cass. Instead, she was angry for Cass. She was furious on the oread’s behalf, and how many people had ever been that? How many people would have stood up for her against a man with a knife and a terrible certainty that what he was doing was right? 

It didn’t remove the blade from where it rested against her skull. It didn’t ease the grip holding her in place. But if that knife found its home in her head, if she died on the forest floor just feet away from the cave where she would have been safe, at least she’d die seen. She’d never thought she’d have that before.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked out. Not to Rhett. She wasn’t sorry to him at all. But to Alex. That she was here, that she had to see this even if Cass was grateful for it. There was more she wanted to say, too, but it seemed cruel, almost. To say the only other thing in her head and die right after would be terrible. Alex would never be the same.

But… hope sprung up in her chest as Alex’s skin began to ripple. Cass knew she’d been working with Alan, training to shift without the moon, but she hadn’t known how far she’d come with it. She never would have blamed Alex if the shift hadn’t come, of course, never would have held it against her. But her bones were cracking and her body was changing and maybe things would be all right after all.

Or maybe they wouldn’t.

One hand moved under her chin, holding her in place. Cass struggled anyway, letting out a scream as she kicked and swung her elbows and did anything she could to make the target harder to hit. She felt the knife pierce her head, and she closed her eyes and waited for it to go the rest of the way through, but it didn’t. Alex was there. 

There was only a heartbeat of relief before the pain hit. For a moment, she hadn’t even realized that the knife landed someplace else. She was so happy to be alive that it took her a moment to process the knife in her shoulder, buried to the hilt. The moment her mind caught up, the pain hit. With the hands holding her in place gone, there was nothing holding her upright, either, and Cass staggered forward, falling down to her knees. 

The knife had been yanked messily from her shoulder when Rhett fell backwards, leaving nothing to staunch the bleeding. The blood had followed the knife like a fountain when it was removed, and was gushing pretty heavily now. Cass moved to put a hand on top of it, because wasn’t that what they always did in the movies? But her arm hurt from where it had been wrenched, and any pressure applied made it so much worse. The blood seeped through her rocky fingers, staining stone. 

She felt cold. And that was funny, wasn’t it? She didn’t think she’d ever been cold before. How could she? There was magma running through her veins, lava pumping through her. Volcanoes didn’t get cold, and neither did Cass. So why was she shivering now?

“Alex,” she gasped out, looking for the wolf. There was blood on the ground. Not all of it was hers. Fear gripped her by the throat. “Alex. I — Alex, are you hurt?”

—

The furious gaze of icy blue eyes never left the warden. They couldn't—- not while Cass was so firmly in his grip. Alex felt a low growl rumble through her. He regarded Cass like she was nothing and it all clicked into place. Nothing was ever black and white and men like Rhett, like her father, were too stubborn to see anything else. It was its own form of evil and she knew he wouldn't let Cass go. As the warden's arm began to move, the werewolf sprung forward claws first toward him. 

Alex dug her claws firmly into the side of his head and dragged down his face, clinging onto him as her momentum sent them tumbling to the ground. Too much of the blood she smelled in the air wasn't his and it sent a guttural snarl through the wolf as jowls hung over the warden's face. Some part of her wanted to let go of control and tear into his throat. It'd be so easy even as Rhett wrestled beneath her. Both the wolf and person in her understood one thing, this man threatened the pack— her family. 

The warden wrestled beneath her and Alex rustled atop of him keeping sharp claws at the ready. Several blows were delivered to her sides before the warden managed a shove that sent her stumbling back with her claws dragging as he pushed her away from his head, leaving shallow claw marks down his chest. It ignited more of a fighting instinct in her, more feral than anything trained, and the pulsing in his throat was something of a temptation. The coppery scent of his blood already coated the air and he was beginning to look like more of a meal. And some instinct in her knew that he deserved it. 

But then the sound of her name came out as a gasp and Alex was pulled back to what was important. Cass. The werewolf bellowed and put all her strength into a swipe at the warden's upper leg. More blood splattered onto the werewolf's coat and she knew the warden wouldn't be moving for a while. Some bitter part of her hoped he bled out there. 

The werewolf dashed towards Cass and stood in front of her protectively. Alex grabbed the fallen iron knife with her still clawed hand and waited a beat, panting heavily as she watched the warden to make sure they were safe to run. 

As her breathing slowed, Alex relaxed back into feeling like herself. She needed to help Cass now, she was bleeding and it was pooling all around her. The sight made her sick but her bones shifted back into place and her form turned back into something more human. The air was chilly against her skin, but she still felt like she was on fire. 

“Cass,” she murmured, “I'm fine— I'm...“ Alex looked over Cass and there was so much blood. Fuck. She needed to get help. “He hurt you,” she said solemnly, grabbing for the bag that had fallen to the ground and throwing on an oversized t-shirt. They needed to get far away from Rhett.

She knelt down beside Cass eyes still watching the fallen warden. Alex extended her arm and braced herself to take on Cass's weight. ”Come on,“ she said, “We have to get out of here— I'll take care of you, ok? You're going to be ok.“ She had to be ok. 

—

For the briefest of moments, there was a flash of fear in the warden’s eyes. For a moment, terror gripped him, plunging him into an proverbial ice bath and delivering a shock to his system that woke parts of him that’d been dormant for decades. He didn’t beg, though, no—he only grit his teeth, set his jaw, and closed those useless eyes as he hiked his legs up to his chest and delivered a two-footed kick that knocked the werewolf away from him. The claws that raked across his chest and stomach pulled a groan from him, but he quickly tensed again as he waited for the beast to return. He couldn’t muster the strength to rise from the forest floor, and just as quickly as that instinctual drive to stay alive had descended upon him, it fled and left him empty once more. He coughed, blood staining the backs of his teeth, and then he felt the thing tearing into his leg. It ripped through denim, muscle, and bone with ease, and the pain was blinding. Truly blinding. What little sight remained in his right eye flashed with white and all he could do was inhale sharply, feeling that he might die. Was this it? At the mercy of a werewolf? Motherfucker. 

But then the monster was gone, retreating to aid the fae he’d stabbed, and Rhett let out a low, miserable moan. He tried to pick himself up, but his leg was ripped apart and the wounds on his face were bleeding into his eyes and everything hurt. All he could do was lay there, listening to them speak, promising to take care of one another. It made him sick to his stomach, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He was down, and unless someone came to get him like the werewolf was there to aid the fae, he’d probably bleed out. 

He waited until their uneven footsteps retreated before he dared move again, lifting his ass off the dirt with a pained grunt and digging his phone out of his back pocket. Holding the device between his teeth, the warden summoned the last of his strength to drag himself over to the nearest tree and prop his back against it, spitting out the phone and retching from the pain along the way. Once he was as settled as he was going to get, he reached for the phone and unlocked it, staring at the screen with exceptionally blurry, reddened vision. His thoughts were disjointed and growing more so by the minute—the clock was ticking, he knew. He thought about contacting Emilio, but… no.

His thumb found Parker’s name instead, and he pressed the call button. There was only a brief wait before the other warden picked up, and Rhett wasted no time with pleasantries. 

“Werewolf got me. Probably got ‘bout twenty minutes afore I bleed out. Bring supplies. It’s safe now. Send you the coordinates in a sec. Somewhere near the edge of the Flat.” He didn’t even wait for the other man to respond before hanging up, looking up his longitude and latitude and sending the number his friend’s way. If he made it out of this alive, he was definitely going to have to spring for that eyepatch. He was pretty sure lefty was toast based on feeling alone, but didn’t have the stomach to reach up and touch it. The phone slipped from his hand then, head leaning back against the trunk of the skinny tree, eyes closing again as he focused on keeping his heart rate down. 

Hellfire, that hadn’t gone to plan.

—

Black spots danced around the edge of her vision, and wasn’t it strange how everything hurt when she’d only been stabbed in one place? There was just that — bleeding more than she’d thought it would — and the broken arm, but wasn’t it silly for those two things to knock her down this hard? She thought of the comics she’d read, the movies she’d seen. In media, this kind of thing would have never been enough to keep someone down. People on TV got stabbed and finished the fight before they realized it had happened at all. People in comics lost limbs and stayed on their feet. It was misleading, she thought; none of it ever told you how much things hurt.

Alex’s face was blurry in front of her, those black spots trying as hard as they could to blot it out entirely. Cass squinted around them, letting out a small sigh when she came into focus. Alex didn’t look hurt. There was blood on her, but Cass couldn’t trace it back to any injuries. More likely, the blood wasn’t hers. She wondered how much of it was Rhett and how much of it had come from her. If she weren’t so out of it, she might have asked, might have said something about how it was almost romantic to see so much of her on her girlfriend’s skin. “You’re so beautiful,” she said instead, the words a quiet breath of air.

“I’m okay,” she murmured softly, reaching up to twist a strand of Alex’s hair around her finger absently. It hurt, but it was worth it, anyway. Alex’s hair was always so pretty, and Cass hadn’t touched it enough. She should have always had it twisted around her finger like this, should have kept it there. “I’m just kind of tired.” She knew you weren’t really supposed to sleep at a time like this, because that was always a dramatic point in every show, too. Someone was bleeding, someone closed their eyes. The episode faded to black, the words to be continued flashed across the screen. The audience waited weeks or months to find out if those eyes would open again, or the show was canceled and they never found out at all. Either way, it was simpler to experience it from your sofa than it was to live it. When this screen faded to black, Cass thought, she might never even see the words.

Alex reached down and helped her up, and it hurt, but Alex wanted her to walk so she walked. Or… maybe walked was a generous term. She was dragged, she was half-carried, she was draped over Alex and guilty for making her girlfriend do the majority of the work here when she’d done so much already. She stared at her feet, tried to get them to move. One foot in front of the other. One foot. The other. God, had her feet always been so heavy? Had it always been so cold here?

She faltered, tripped, would have fallen long ago if not for Alex holding her up. The black spots were bigger now, the world felt darker than it ought to. One foot stopped in front of the other, and she couldn’t lift it again. Her knees buckled. 

The screen faded to black, and she was right — she couldn’t read the words there.

#eye trauma tw #unsanitary tw #wr cass #wr rhett #threads; with cass #threads; with rhett #threads; with cass; fade to black #threads; with rhett; fade to black #(the moonlight is blinding) ;; season 1 writing #(never been a natural all i do is try try try) ;; writing

[bountyhaunter]

TIMING: A day or two after ‘What If…’ LOCATION: Ball & Chain Forge PARTIES: Rhett @ironcladrhett & Daiyu @bountyhaunter SUMMARY: Daiyu goes to see Rhett at the forge to talk about a custom knife order. CONTENT WARNINGS: None!

It was important for her to buy her own weapons. This wasn’t something Daiyu examined closely — she just knew that the need was there and that she answered it. She did understand her desire for financial freedom, however, and that this probably tied into it. The Volkovs were the rich type, after all. Upper class. Made rich through the exploitation of beasts and shifters and any other shady thing alike, fingers stained with blood money. Family money was a collar and leash, though, a way to yank and keep people close.

Because money bought happiness. Money bought knives, handmade and silver. Money bought independence, autonomy. And so Daiyu was determined, if not gleeful, when she set foot into the forge. When she met the warden called Rhett who looked like he’d known better days. Regardless, they shook hand and exchanged pleasantries (not many, neither of them the type) and got to the meat of the meeting. Daiyu tried hard to not get distracted by all that surrounded her. It was a cool place. It almost made her drool. She was already thinking about what other things she’d like to commission. 

Daiyu got bored easily, after all. New weapons were a good way to keep the hunt (and with that life) exciting. “Alright, alright,” she grinned, “I’m curious to see this prototype.” She held up a hand, that soon disappeared into her jacket where her favored knife was sheathed. Custom-made, too, both the knife and sheath. “This is the one I prefer to work with now. But I want something smaller — preferable ones I can double wield, ya know?” Her eyes flicked around. “This place fucking rocks, by the way.”

—

Rhett lacked the usual spring in his step when it came to weapon design, and that wasn’t just on account of the iron leg. This was going to be his last one, and that understanding tasted bitter on his tongue. He’d have to give the young hunter a good reference for one of the other blacksmiths so she could keep patronizing this place in his absence, but he’d make sure this piece was one she truly loved before kicking off. He was a man of his word, after all. 

Taking the knife she’d brought from her, unsheathing it and turning it over in his hands to give it a careful inspection, he nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, can do that.” He ran his fingers along the blade, his gaze raking over the weapon. It was quality, a nice piece. He could do better, of course, but it was very excellent besides. Passing it back as ideas started to form in his mind, he leaned back on his stool and reached for a leather pouch on the work table beside him, flipping it open and pulling out a hunk of silver that was dagger-shaped, but lacked any detailing or a grip. 

“Can work this down into somethin’ smaller, like ya want. Here, I got some hilt options…” He started pulling out other finished knives that all had different styles to them. “Pick ‘em up, give ‘em a few swings, aye? See what feels good for weight n’ the grip. Can work out the details to make it unique to ya after that.” He sniffed, nodding his head over toward the corner of the room. “There’s a dummy back that way, if ya wanna see how it feels in action. Take yer time.”

—

Maybe she should try to get into weapon making. It was the other hunter who’d told her, even if it was indirectly, that perhaps she needed to add another skill to her arsenal. Besides, Daiyu liked custom weapons. She had turned a regular shotgun into a sawed off one before she’d turned eighteen, so who knew — maybe there was something to gain there. But for now, she was just antsy to try a few knives. Her eyes kept passing to the Warden who did have quite the reputation, it turned out. Daiyu preferred to go off what she was given at face value rather than whispers at a hunter bar, though. 

She eyed the options with wide eyes, lips curling up, “These are awesome, did you make all of ‘em?” Greedy fingers reached for two knives, both hands wrapped around their hilts, testing their weight. “Nice.” She put them to the left, tried two more. One was discarded immediately, the other joined the other two. Daiyu knew what she was looking for, though she was making a mental wishlist in her mind at the same time. She’d have to ask Rhett if he had any references for bows.

After a quick selection, she moved over to the dummy, turning the knives in her hands and launching them into the dummy’s neck. It wasn’t often she fought humanoid creatures, admittedly — she preferred to hunt shifters when they were shifted and besides, she was most often on the tail of various beasts. Daiyu released the knives, mimed the gushing of blood and grinned at the warden over her shoulder. She spent a short while retrieving the knives and slashing a few times, but it didn’t take her long. She was made for impulse decisions and purchases. Returning to the table, she extended one of them, hilt towards the warden. “This might be a good one to go off. I dig the look of it. Slips nice and easy in the palm, but also offers enough of a grip, y’know?” 

—

“Aye, over the years… decided if I was gonna start takin’ custom orders, oughtta have a few things fer the ol’ portfolio.” Rhett watched her pick them up and test how they felt in her hands, making note of which ones she seemed to prefer and parsing out why that was based on how she held them. His gaze followed the young hunter when she went over to the dummy, and watching her mimic a few attacks and subsequent blood spurts actually brought a slight smile to his face. He couldn't help but remember when he'd been as young and full of vim and vigor as she was now, and it was comforting, in a way. He was a relic, but there'd always be more hunters to pick up the mantle. 

Still wearing the smirk, the old warden accepted the blade of choice back from her, nodding in agreement. “Thought ya might prefer this one.” From there, he reached for his sketchbook and flipped it open, starting with a rough drawing of the hilt of choice. “What kinda blade shape you want? Hawksbill, tanto, guthook…? Here's a few, in case ya ain't familiar with the names.” He flipped back to the beginning of the book and produced two pages full of different knife blade styles, pushing it toward her. 

—

The concept of a retired hunter was a rare one, but Daiyu found it a comforting thought. It wasn’t quite like she wanted to leave this life behind, but the concept of perhaps retiring towards something else after years of fight was something she might like. Maybe not even for herself, but at the very least for her uncle who always seemed so weighed down. (She didn’t expect to live to an age of retirement, anyhow.) “That makes sense, yeah. So you’ve been doing this a long time, then?”

She had never been the best at retaining knowledge and learning, but when it came to these things Daiyu had been quite good at remembering. She knew the fight, the grit, the violence and the tools it took. Sometimes it seemed it was all she was good for. And so she didn’t have to look at the book of blades to answer the question, “Hawksbill would be perfect,” she said. “Might have to step by for another set or something soon. Got some nice shit here. And this town, well… Crawling with stuff.”

—

Her question was answered with a slow nod, and after a moment of thought, a few words. “Grew up on it. Trainin’ under masters’ah the craft while I hopped from town to town. Huntin’ didn’t always pay well, ya see… needed a skill I could use anyplace.” Chuckling approvingly at the swift decision, Rhett flipped back to his concept drawing and started to sketch. “That it is, that it is… won’t never run outta quarry, it seems. Good to have folks like you in places like this.” He sucked in a sharp breath, pressing harder on the pencil as he made the stroke for the edge of the blade. “Afraid I won’t be around after I finish this for ya… but the folks what own this place, the twins, they’re damn good smiths. Can make ya anythin’ ya like, won’t balk at no kinda requests. I’ll let ‘em know to give ya a discount.” He lifted his head, cocking it to the side as he looked at the drawing so far. Next was the hilt style, which he started in on as he spoke. “Which, speakin’ of… this order’s on the house.” It wasn’t like he needed her money—any that he already had had been left in a place in Emilio’s apartment where he might find it someday, or maybe whoever moved into that shithole after him. Didn’t matter, so long as someone had it. 

—

Hunting had always paid her family quite well, but then they’d had ties in all kinds of murky corners. Daiyu didn’t want to know how her father and the men before him had acquired their riches. It’d make her feel too much like them. She did wish she’d learned a practical skill like this, though. “So you moved around a lot? Cool. We didn’t stray very far, mostly stuck around in Washington. Lotsa woods to protect there.” They’d flown to other corners of the world where family lived, but her world had mostly been those pines and mountains.

She watched the other at his work, a little envious. She supposed she could try and pick something like this up, but Daiyu hated learning things she wasn’t immediately good at which was why her skillset remained limited. “Ah, hopping town again? Can’t blame ya, this place is a little bonkers.” She liked the chaos though, so far. “I get it, I don’t stick around long places either. And hey, I’ll take those discount tips.” Her lips curled into a grin and it almost faltered when he said it was on the house. A kindness. Those always got lodged in her throat. “Whoa, man. You don’t have to. Are you sure?”

—

“Aye. Was born on the water, didn’t have much of a home fer a while that weren’t the inside’ah that boat. Instilled me with the need to migrate, I guess. Weren’t a bad life.” 

The finished product was coming together on the page, and Rhett’s gaze lifted from the drawing to meet hers. “Don’t need money where I’m goin’, kid. Got no use fer it. You might as well keep it.” He cleared his throat and pushed the drawing her way, tapping the pencil on the paper. “Pick a material for the hilt, n’ if there’s any personal flares ya want—engravin’, a replaceable scale, whatever, lemme know now so I can work it into the design. All said, she’ll take ‘bout… mm, twelve more hours or so to make. Can do it all in one.” Wasn’t like he was sleeping, anyway. “Have the order ready for ya by tomorrow.”

—

“What?” The word was drawn out as she was genuinely intrigued, not having met many hunters who were based at sea. “That’s cool. Way more original than being born on regular schmegular land, that’s for sure.”

She was looking at the drawing with an eager, growing interest. Daiyu had tried drawing but as she lacked natural talent (if that even existed), she’d given up in frustration. She didn’t like failure, but she could appreciate another person’s skill. Most of the time. “Alright, cool. Thanks.” She hit her head, then pointed. “Am only saying that ‘cus I know you’re not fae.” She gave a shit-eating grin. “Wood handle, something dark. Don’t need any special things beside it, ‘tis the blade that matters most.” She doodled on her weapons when she was younger, which had been considered a personal affront to her neat father and not just because she was a shit drawer. “Tomorrow, cool! I’ll be here.”

—

The thanks and subsequent joke earned her a good-natured scoff, and the man leaned back on his stool. “Perish the thought,” he muttered with a smirk, marking down her request for a dark wood for the handle. 

Reaching out a hand to shake, Rhett cleared his throat. “You ever get a hankerin’ for somethin’ else’ah mine, I do got a few pieces put up in Chet’s shop, Fable Blades. He buys products from this forge pretty often, can just ask him to show ya ol’ Rhett’s work n’ he’ll set ya up. He’s a retired warden too, so, y’know. Good people.” Rising to his feet, the man showed Daiyu back toward the exit, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. “Seeya tomorrow, kid. N’ be careful out there, aye? Don’t fly too close to the sun.”

—

She decided she liked this Rhett. He looked like the very image of a withered, alive against all odds hunter and yet he still humored her yapping. Daiyu liked her hunters with a bit of humor. “Awesome, I’m gonna do that. If your piece satisfies, you know.” She missed the innuendo for a beat, then let out a ha as if to make it seem like it had always been her intention to make a dirty joke. Bravado came easy these days. “Got no doubt about that, though.”

She grinned at him as she moved out of the shop, giving him a salute. And people dared say she didn’t respect her elders! “See you tomorrow. I’ll try my very best not to. You too, aye?” 

#threads. #last orders. #rhett.

[ohwynne]

TIMING: Before Rhett kidnapped Ariadne, and recently after the vampire kidnapping, so like early August. PARTIES: Rhett @ironcladrhett & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: Emilio's apartment SUMMARY: Wynne wants to drop off some food at Emilio's door, but is surprised when Rhett opens the door. The two meet officially. It's cute. CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

Food was one of the basic requirements, so it seemed only logical to Wynne that they continuously flocked to creating it in moments of crisis. Despite their appetite being hard to find, they still had that incessant need to busy their hands. To do something. And there wasn’t much that worked except getting in that tiny kitchen and creating. To remind themself that they were alive, because they needed food, because they were around people who needed it.

After an evening of stress-cooking their way through the empty hours, they were left with containers of thick, aromatic soup that they now had to get rid of. Not that they were lacking. Some of them were stuffed in their fridge, for Zack, Arden and Sully, as well as the steady flow of visitors. And then a few were carried through the hallway towards Emilio’s door past sundown. 

They weren’t sure if they should knock, or if they should just leave it with the note they’d already written. In their hesitation, they loitered, thoughts stuck on Emilio. Revisiting memory, twisting themself in doubt and crouched in front of that door, they ended up looking more like a paranoid thief in the night than a kindly neighbor. When it opened, they jumped up, tupperware clattering against the floor. Wide eyes met those of a stranger – one with a large beard and a lot more height than they had. “Oh!” Eyes flicked to the apartment number. This was the right one. “Evening.” Wynne tried to push the containers to the side with their foot. “I was just … dropping off some things.”

—

Half the time, Rhett didn’t even announce that he was coming over, instead surprising Emilio , sometimes to the slayer’s chagrin. Didn’t bother him when his little brother bitched, though—was his damn right to drop in whenever he wanted. Not like Emilio had anything to hide, anyway.

Tonight had been one of those nights, with the warden feeling unusually down and out and craving company, even if that company gave him hell all the time. But Emilio wasn’t home when he got there, so he just shrugged it off and figured he’d hang about until the man got home, assuming he must have been out cracking a fucking case or whatever the hell it was he did with that side business of his. 

There was a sound outside the door, and after a few seconds of waiting for his brother to enter without results, the warden clicked off his phone screen and pocketed the device as he got to his feet and walked up to the front door. Opening it to see a young person crouched there with tupperwares in their hands was not quite what he expected, and it showed in the surprised expression that settled over his grizzled face. They jumped up from the floor, dropping the container in the process, but it remained shut, thankfully. 

Brow raised, Rhett let his gaze dance between them and whatever they’d dropped. “Literally, I see,” he joked, letting a smile spread across his face. There was no buzz in his head warning him of the presence of fae, and as he thought about it, those containers looked familiar. “You must be… the one always bringin’ food over, eh?” Shit, what was the name Emilio had used…? “.... Wynne? That right? M’Rhett.” He stepped back, gesturing for them to come in. “Go on, then. Just me here right now, ‘fraid. Milio’s out doin’... god knows what. Waitin’ for him to get back.”

—

The other smiled and Wynne forced themself to breathe a little easier, to not feel the need to turn on their heel and scatter to the door of their own apartment. Not every situation was one where they were a deer in headlights. Not every kind stranger could be a vampire with the potential to rip open their neck the way Zane had. And besides, this person came from Emilio’s place. Emilio, who they trusted intrinsically by now.

And yet the instinct of fear hadn’t fully left them, blood pumping in their ears and their fingers feeling somewhat useless as they moved to pick up the containers. Wynne became very aware of their bare throat now as they raised to their full height again, fingers digging into the plastic of their tupperware. “Yes, that’s me. Wynne. Always bringing over food.” 

So this was Rhett, the brother that Emilio had spoken off as they’d discussed their own family. I don’t know if you’d like him, he’d said, and Wynne thought of that statement as the other introduced himself, inviting them into the space they had entered only a handful of times. Their M.O. was just dropping the food on the doorstep, after all, knowing that someone would pick it up sooner or later.

“His brother, right?” They gave a polite smile and moved into the apartment, looking at the tall, bearded man over their shoulder. Funny. He reminded them a bit of Rhys, and not just because of the similarity in name, but that beard too. Wynne glanced around the empty space, feeling like an intruder as they tried to look as normal as possible when approaching the fridge. “Is Perro not here? And that’s okay, I tend to just … drop it off. Not in that literal sense. I’m … skittish, I guess.” They tried to tack a laugh onto that statement as they opened the fridge door while balancing the previously-fallen meal.

—

“Ah, mentioned me, has he? Sure he only had mean things t’say,” Rhett responded with a snort, knowing the way his brother talked about him to others… These days especially. Something between them had changed, he just couldn’t figure out what exactly it was… aside from the obvious. They’d lost their family, sure, but this wasn’t that. He’d spent enough time with Emilio after the fact to know that they’d still shared a strong bond, even if they were both miserable. But since they’d been apart for a couple years, since he’d found his little brother here in this godforsaken town, even that had felt different. 

He didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much to do about it. It wasn’t like either of them were about to open up about their feelings. They didn’t do that kind of thing.

“Oh, the mutt’s here, somewhere. Sleepin’, I assume.” He and the dog didn’t exactly get along, they merely tolerated one another. Plus, if the animal needed to go out and Rhett didn’t take it, it would take a dump on Emilio’s floor, and that would be funny. 

“Skittish? Guess that makes sense, in a place like this.” Whether he meant the sketchy, dilapidated building or the general aura that was Wicked’s Rest was anyone’s guess. Cocking his head to the side, he crossed his arms over his chest as he watched them put the food in the fridge. “... how’d ya meet Milio, anyway? He never told me.”

—

“He said that you were brothers. Because you grew up together.” And that Wynne wouldn’t like him, which kept nagging at the back of their mind, because that had been such an off-hand comment and thus far, the bearded hunter had done little to make them dislike him. To be fair, this interaction had only lasted for a minute or so and their standards were rather low.

They nodded. “Oh, cute. He’s a funny guy.” Not a mutt. Or maybe he was, but that wouldn’t be something Wynne would use in a derogatory way. 

After closing the fridge (it was easy to fit the food in there, considering the lack of anything in there), they turned towards the other. Emilio had explained he was a hunter too, so maybe there was no need for beating around any bushes. Still, they felt a little uneasy trying to recall the initial meeting with Emilio.

“Well, I was hiking in the woods. And there was something behind me, and it was ustras? They were onto both of us, so we kind of kept running when we came across each other, and then he set them aflame.” They shrugged. “I mean, after I stabbed it. A little. And then after we found out we were neighbors.” Wynne wondered if that was a good summary. “And we kind of kept interacting after that.”

—

“Aye. Met ‘im when he was knee-high to a cricket,” Rhett explained rather unhelpfully, though he did wear an affectionate smile as he said it. “The rest of that clan, too. Good family. Good people.” His thoughts threatened to turn to his sister-in-law and his niece, so he cleared his throat and pushed through the memories. “Stayed with ‘em a good long while in Mexico.” Twenty years, give or take. He’d thought his road had ended there. He’d nearly let go of his obsession with finding Mariela. 

Nearly.

“Ustras, aye? Choice.” He laughed. “Ya stabbed one? Good on ya! Everyone oughtta keep stabbin’ utensils on ‘em at all times, I say. Never know when y’might run into a beastie.” He eyed Wynne, looking curious. Obviously not fae, and if they were chummy with Emilio, then surely not undead. Probably not a shifter, or they’d know better than to hang around a hunter. Unless they were a really stupid shifter. 

He hoped not. He liked them.

“Well! Good tah meet ya officially, n’ I’m ‘fraid you’ll be seein’ my ugly mug ‘round here quite a bit more,” he chuckled. “By the by, food you cook’s fuckin’ aces, mate. Dunno if Milio ever told ya, he ain’t mannered like that.” He paused. “He always ends up givin’ me some,” he added, not wanting them to think he was eating all of it. Even if he kind of was… him and Nora, anyway.

—

They blinked at that. Family, he said — that insinuated there had been more people there, ones that Rhett too knew. Wynne thought about the wife Emilio had spoken of, of the few hints they’d gotten of his childhood. “Must be nice to see each other again.” They punctuated their statement with a bit of a smile. They imagined Iwan coming here, to Wicked’s Rest and then they told themself not to think about such stupid things. “Have you been in town long?”

Eyes widened in surprise and they found themself echoing that laughter, partly out of nervousness and partly because there was something infectious about it. “I mean, he did all the other work, it was just in the foot but — I guess it felt good.” Wynne thought about the knife they’d lost when the vampires had cornered them. “It does seem smart. Ever since he got me one I’ve had to use it a few times. This town’s just full of weird things, huh?” He probably knew about all that more than them.

“It’s nice to meet you too s—” The sir was omitted, as it felt very much out of place here. “Rhett.” Wynne beamed at the compliment, shrugging. “It helps me relax. And I don’t know, I kinda owe him, and he seems like he needs it, right? I figured out he was sharing a while back, so I just make more. But thanks.” Their lips tightened. “I mean. Appreciated.” Not that the other was fae — they just didn’t want to seem like the type who kept using that word despite all the warnings. 

—

Seeing Emilio again in this town wasn’t exactly what Rhett would call nice, but he couldn’t expect anyone else to understand that. It hadn’t even been nice to find him back in Etla after days of tracking him from the scene of the massacre. He’d been relieved, sure. Relieved but fraught with grief, and anger, and… too many things to really process at the time. And this year, stumbling upon his little brother in a place he’d never have expected to find him was neither a warm reunion, nor a reunion that either of them seemed to want. Not… not in the way folks would assume, anyway. Rhett knew it was challenging for him to be around, now. That it was a reminder of things lost, and that Emilio’s desire to get himself killed taking out the rest of those vampires was made far more complex by the warden’s presence. 

So no, it wasn’t nice, per se, but that wasn’t something Wynne needed to know. 

“Aye. Been a real hoot,” he answered with a soft smile in return. “And yer damn right ‘bout that. Critter count in this place ain’t like nothin’ I’ve ever seen. Sure, human folks outnumber ‘em a great deal, but still. Ya normally get, what… a handful in any given town? This place be a damn breedin’ ground fer trouble.”

“Aye, that he does. Dunno how he fuckin’ gets around with the way he eats… or doesn’t. Pity. I do got methods fer trickin’ him into it, though.” There was a pause, and he gave them a curious look. “You been in town very long? Wonderin’... if ya work somewhere in the neighborhood, mighta seen someone I’m lookin’ fer, actually.”

—

“It does seem like there’s a lot more in this town,” they said, trying to sound like someone who had definitely lived in a normal town before. And they had, just not for more than a few weeks at a time. Wynne’s hand moved to their neck, tracing their stitches. Trouble seemed right. Whatever they’d had at home, there had never been vampires. Or creatures wanting to eat fingers or honking so loud they could make you pass out. “Emilio said you were also a hunter? That’s pretty cool.” 

It was hard not to think of Iwan now, the concept of him showing up in town. If he did, it would most likely be bad news — but Wynne couldn’t help but imagine it anyway, a reality where just he showed up. No agenda. Just an embrace and reunion. They wondered if he was mad with them, for having left, but then Iwan had always gotten on better with their mother and even the cousins. One thing they did know: he’d be welcomed in their place, the same way Rhett seemed to be in Emilio’s.

“What kind of tricks? I like to think me dropping off the food helps, but I’m not sure.” They shrugged. “Since January, so not that long? I work at one of the coffee shops, though — a Latte to Love? A lot of people come through there.” Wynne tried to give a small, confident smile. “Who’re you looking for?”

—

Ah, so they were privy to all that, then. “Cool?” he asked, a little surprised. That wasn’t the typical reaction. “Ahh… sure! Fanged bloodsuckers ain’t really my specialty, though. More suited fer huntin’ fae. Tricky little shits, they are. Not a good idea fer regular folks to deal with ‘em… other hunters, neither. Use your own mind against ya, they will.” He tapped a finger to his temple, smirking. 

“Turnin’ it into a competition usually works,” he explained. “Little shit’s always lookin’ to out-do me. Classic lil’ brother rubbish.” Thinking for a moment, Rhett knew it was probably a long shot, but… “Well, her name’s Mariela,” he explained, picturing her in his mind and finding it to be… unpleasant, to put it nicely. “She’s ‘bout… this tall,” he motioned to something resembling five foot three, “has dark hair n’ eyes that look almost golden.” A beat. “Would look somewhere between thirty n’ forty, but mighta had someone with ‘er that was closer t’you in age.” Fae aging was different, of course, and there was no doubt in his mind that Mariela would, at this point, look much more youthful than he did. “She had a birthmark on ‘er neck, pale spot that looked kinda like Maui.” He raised his eyebrows. “Anyone like that ringin’ a bell?”

—

Oh, so he was a hunter for fae. Wynne thought of the few fae they knew – Teagan, Cass, Regan and maybe that Sián woman – and wondered if they should be more wary of them. If they should warn them about this hunter. They also thought of Beau. He seemed malevolent. “Oh, right. There are different types, right? Of hunters. I don’t really think I’m equipped to deal with any of them. Vampires or fae.” But they could befriend the latter, though that went unsaid.

Iwan and them had been competitive sometimes, Wynne recalled. He’d often outsmarted them, but they had always been the fastest, on land and in water. “Ha, brothers, right?” The comment was devoid of anything, but it was something. “I don’t think it’d work for me, though. To try and compete.” 

Their brows creased in thought as the other went on. They saw a lot of people at work, and though not a lot of them stood out, there were a few that stuck in their mind. The memory of a young mother with a child about their age with golden eyes did resurface now. It had been at the beginning of their job, and they’d asked a ton of questions Wynne couldn’t answer — which was probably because they remembered. Failure stuck to them like permanent glue. “I made a drink for a woman with that name, yes … in February? I think. She was, um … asking about the State Park? I was very new to town, so I didn’t know, but she kept asking things about it. The things that were there. And there was someone my age, who wanted to know about … something called a secret menu, which we don’t have.” Apparently that was a thing, which they thought was ridiculous. Not relevant, though. “My colleague helped her with the questions, ‘cause I didn’t really know.”

—

“Aye. Slayers like my idiot brother, rangers, n’ wardens.” He lifted a brow. “Careful ‘round wardens, kiddo. We’re a weird bunch,” he warned in good humor. His good mood seemed to fade a bit as they confirmed their interaction with Mariela, or who they assumed was Mariela—not that long ago, asking about the state park. Made sense, if she was looking for an aos sí to hide in. And she had someone with her, someone young. Curious. The answer, of course, was obvious, but things as they were, Rhett left enough room for the possibility that it was just a friend or caretaker. He wasn’t entirely sure how well he’d handle the alternative. 

“Mm, that’s helpful. ‘Preciate it. Well, don’t let me take up anymore ‘ah yer time,” he conceded gracefully, for once in his life. “Will let the ol’ grouch know ya dropped off more vittles. And… I appreciate what you’re doin’ for him. Don’t tell him I said that, though. Got a reputation to keep, n’ all.” It wasn’t clear if he was joking or not, so Wynne would probably do well to just honor his request. Anyway, the most important thing on his  mind right now was sampling some of that food they’d brought… then maybe scouring the state park for the afternoon. Priorities! 

#rhett. #threads. #feed thy neighbor.

[nightmaretist]

Bitter Dreams // Inge and Rhett

PARTIES: Rhett @ironcladrhett & Inge LOCATION: Rhett's dream and van. TIMING: Current. CONTENT WARNINGS: Violence, mention of sibling death. SUMMARY: Maybe messing up a hunter's dreams isn't the best course of action. Rhett wakes during Inge's feeding and makes an attempt on her life. As per, he does not succeed.

Dreams were nonsensical things and for that, Ingeborg loved them. It was so easy to jump from one thing to the other, the subconscious an easily distracted and moldable thing — if the dream a person was having didn’t interest her, she could just get her fingers (or claws, depending on the night) in there and swap the scene. And this dream, had by a man sleeping in a van somehow decorated by fungi, was neither nonsensical nor interesting.

So the scene transformed, as dreams tend to. One moment, the bearded man is sat on a boat talking to a woman laying in the bright sun (something about baby names, which makes sense considering the swelling of her stomach). The other moment, the sun is gone, as if someone flicked a lightswitch and the sea starts swelling and sinking, waves growing restless, licking the side of the boat. Inge took charge of the strange woman, letting out a piercing scream and holding onto the deck of the boat with one arm while clutching her pregnant belly with another as a storm took over the confines of the dream.

Strange, to touch a pregnant belly again, but there was no time on ruminating on her own past as she screamed once more at the bearded man, a gust of wind making the boat sway dangerously. “Help!”

—

It wasn’t quite right, but as one is wont to do when it comes to dreams, Rhett didn’t question it. Mariela was far more pregnant than he’d ever actually seen her, and they were on a boat that wasn’t quite the boat he’d lived on with Dez—and the aforementioned warden was nowhere to be found. It was just the two of them, enjoying the sun and the ocean breeze together, talking about the child that would be born soon and what to name them. Most startlingly, Rhett wasn’t infuriated by the sight of her. But it was a dream, and maybe dreams simply showed him what he wanted most. Peace. For nothing that had happened to them back to have happened at all. He could have been a father. A husband. A good person. 

But he wasn’t any of those things, and that seemed to be reflected in the way a storm suddenly rolled in, casting shadows over the comforting scene. In one moment, he was twenty-five and still full of hope for the future, and in the next… the unbearable weight of loss and anger and hopelessness came crashing down on him, aging him appropriately. Still, his lover screamed and held herself as the boat rocked dangerously, and still, the warden reacted like he would have when he was young. 

He leaped toward her, shouting her name over the crash of thunder in the sky above. “Mari!” The waves swelled larger, heaving the vessel, turning it damn near on its side. He fell, body slamming into the handrail as he watched Mariela fall into the water, hand outstretched toward him. “Mari! No!” His bellows were drowned out by the storm as he reached for her, desperately, even as someone else came up behind him and pressed a knife to his throat. 

He knew it was Desmond, his dead brother. Rhett’s arm reached further in spite of the blade, feeling the edge cut into his skin and spill his blood. Mari’s fingers brushed against his own and he howled in pain, lunging forward to grasp her hand. The current threatened to rip her away from him, and Desmond’s knife was burying itself deeper in his flesh. Of course, because it was a dream, he didn’t immediately begin to bleed out. 

—

The minds of the people in Wicked’s Rest were glorious mazes. Inge preferred to take charge of the nightmares she visited, but in this town it sometimes was just as easy and watch the subconscious’ of her sleepers take charge. It seemed there were ugly pasts buried in many a people’s memory here, ready to be transformed. Sometimes, she really did wonder if maybe she did something right by them, by putting their bad memories in another context. Most of the time, though, she barely thought about it at all.

She let the dream flow, watched another figure join the scene who pressed a knife against the subject’s throat. The figure she had inhabited was bound to drown in the ocean if she just let it be, but instead Inge took charge. The screaming face grinned, not at her subject but at the person behind him — as if there was some kind of secret between them.

She did not know what was going on here, but it was simple enough to figure out that the person in front of her cared for the drowning woman, so much so that he’d cut himself open for it. So Inge reached forward, pushed by a wave and grabbed the hilt of the knife he might bleed himself dry on and pulled it towards her.

Loss was so dreadfully simple. People died. They were murdered or taken by disease, got old or got in accidents — it was an undeniable truth of life. Something much harder to digest was betrayal. And so Inge did not bring the knife to her/the woman’s throat, but instead brought it forward, two hands wrapped around the hilt, and slammed down the knife in the other’s chest, pulling it out with the intention of bringing it down again. 

—

All at once, the fear, anger, and hate came rushing back into Rhett, so intensely that it ripped him from his sleep. His paranoid mind sensed a threat, be it external or from within, and he wouldn’t be snoozing after that. 

His eyes flew open, lungs gasping for air as the pressure of a knife buried in his chest still ached from the dream. His gaze was fixed on the van’s roof, body pinned to the floor of it by an invisible force. Paralysis. Recognizing that it was just another episode, Rhett attempted to calm himself. At least until he noticed the unusual red glow in the van, and managed to angle his gaze downward toward his feet. 

A figure was crouched there, eyes burning red like the devil’s asshole. Fuck. Rhett gave a throaty groan and forced himself to move, knowing a god damned mare when he saw one. It was perhaps only thanks to his status as a hunter that he didn’t just succumb to the feeling, and instead ripped through it like a chainsaw through tissue paper. 

Kicking one leg out, Rhett tried to hook it around the figure’s own and drag them to the floor of the van as well, finding it easier to move his legs than his torso just yet. 

—

This happened sometimes. Inge tended to go overboard (both literally and figuratively in this case) and push her sleepers into wakefulness before she was done. It was the red thread of failure through her life as a mare in general: her pushing it too far. Playing with people’s dreams too much and that leading to moments like this.

He woke up and so, in a way, did she: staring at his paralysis with her red-glowing eyes. In the time she spent considering whether she would try and force him back to sleep, he seemed to gain enough consciousness to make the decision for her. Fuck. Fuck. 

This didn’t happen often, especially not with first-time-feeds. It tended to happen after repeated feedings over a long stretch of time, where she made her appearances predictable. The fact that this man’s instincts were this sharp and this quick to put him to action made Inge respond with fitting panic. But there was no chance to get her mind to focus and get out, with his leg moving for her, pulling her down on the ground of the van. 

She could not suppress the groan that flew from her mouth at the impact. How she hated this, being brought back with force onto the earthy plane where she had none of her powers of terrorization and transformation. Here, she was nothing but her pitiful physical form. Inge pushed herself up on her arms, making a move to crawl away from his reach and most of all taking great care to keep her face somewhat obscured. 

—

With great effort, Rhett rolled onto his side, grunting as he did so, still recovering from the creature’s ill-effects. His breaths came in heavy pants as he pulled himself out of the episode and reached for the intruder, sitting up and lurching forward to grasp at an ankle and giving an exhausted wheeze. 

He wasn’t… a hundred percent sure on what the best method for killing mares was, never having done it before. He’d only been told stories by Emilio’s family, and had only ever seen one in person, himself, before he really knew what they were. But he at least knew the methods of keeping them in place—salt, patched up keyholes, and physical contact. Hence the hand on her leg, and the other one coming down around her throat. Couldn’t be  suffocated, he figured, being undead and all, but it was a good spot for keeping control of her. 

The warden glared down at her, his face illuminated by the red glow of her eyes, and used his own body weight to pin her to the van’s floor. His weapons were, unfortunately, currently out of reach. “Picked the wrong fuckin’ hunter to mess with,” he snarled, lifting his gaze from her face only to try and look around and see what’d happened to his knife. Beheading might do it just fine. Most things died if you removed the head, right?

—

It made sense, when he said he was a hunter. Inge’s red glowing eyes were wide as her own body was pinned on the floor, the quickness and effectiveness with which he’d responded to her indeed fitting with the kind of person who killed for a living. Fuck. She struggled below him on the floor, but with his combined weight and pressure on her throat, there was little wriggling to do.

“Fuck you,” she spat, deeply regretting her decisions. What sour luck she had! Feeding off a hunter, and one twice her size as well. She wished to return to that boat, that sweet dream she’d ruined, the knife she’d sunk into his chest. But here they were, the hunter able to fully see her face and Inge not finding a way to escape at present. All she needed was his weight off her and her skin untouched and she could be gone, far from here. 

With his attention diverted at God-knows-what, however, she managed to wriggle a hand free and press it against his side, under his shirt, clutching the flesh of his stomach. If only he could fall back asleep, she thought, then she could push him from her. With a growl leaving her mouth, neck arching back, she tried to focus on bringing the other back to sleep.

—

He wasn’t a slayer, and he didn’t hunt mares with any sort of regularity, so he was definitely not immune to their sleep inducing touch. As soon as her fingertips found bare skin, he felt woozy. Trying to fight through it, Rhett snatched up his knife as he saw the blade glint red, just sticking out from his jacket pocket. 

“Feeling’s mutual,” came his snarl, grip on the hilt tightening as his mind grew foggy and vision blurry. His eyelids fluttered involuntarily, sleep threatening to overtake him with each second that passed, and he found that infuriating. 

No more thinking. Just stab. He made a motion to do so, to hopefully get her to be still long enough to get a decently sized cut through her neck so he could begin to saw at it, but his aim was shit with the way the world tilted beneath him and her struggling. He wasn’t even sure if he got her with the way she was thrashing and the way his vision went fully dark as his eyes sank closed again, but muscle memory was all he needed, right? 

Right. 

Not so much. “Damn.”

The warden gave in, the weapon clattering to the floor of the van as he slumped over, still half on top of her but certainly dead to the world for the next couple of hours. 

—

So they both brandished their respective weapons now. Inge just had her touch and willpower, her sheer and fierce reluctance to die at the hands of a hunter but this bearded man had an actual knife. It glinted in the limited light and her focus was solely on continuing her touch and keeping it powerful enough. Whatever energy left was spent on wriggling to make it as hard as possible for him. 

She would have goaded him, if she had more energy left to spare, asked him who the people in the dream were. Her fingers dug into his flesh, and only dug deeper when the knife sliced. Not at her throat, but close enough to open the skin of her upper arm near it. The noise came out of her throat was almost animalistic and she clawed, furious, at that bit of flesh she got in her grip. Sleep, you fucking oaf.

Eventually though, he slumped over, his body on hers as glitter drizzled from her upper arm onto the floor of the van. Inge made quick work of taking the knife out of his hand and tossing it to the other side of the van. Whether he had any other weapons wasn’t a question worth asking, because up next was trying to get him off of her, pushing at him with her knees and good arm. She hoped her groans wouldn’t wake the light sleeper up again. 

Once all touch was broken Inge made quick work of broadening the distance between herself and the hunter. For a moment she considered retaliation, retrieving the knife and really sinking it in his chest, but her arm ached and she had always leaned towards cowardice once her recklessness had proven too much. And so off into the astral plane she went, leaving a small pile of glitter in her wake. 

—

Once he woke, groggy and disoriented, Rhett sat up in the van and held his head for a while, trying to recall what the Cortezes had told him about mares. The trip down memory lane was an unpleasant one, of course, and the man lost himself to them for a while, but as the sun peeked over the horizon, he had a plan. 

One, how to keep that mare from coming back for more. But more importantly, how to keep it here once he found it again. And find it, he would.

#rhett. #threads. #bitter dreams. #this was FUN :hellmo:

[writermuses]

To say that Rhett was spent would be an understatement. There wasn't a surface of Josephine's hotel room that they hadn't covered a few times. Still, seeing her move around the room looking for clothes had him aching for more. His legs protested, a familiar twitch to the muscles not unlike when he had to push himself to the limits during his decade in Marine recon. He came up behind her and wrapped her up in his arms, "Josie girl, I'm Montana through and through. I thought that was pretty obvious." Rhett pressed his lips to her temple. "Why the hell else would I be so upset when it turned out you weren't stickin' around." Spinning her around, he gently took her chin in his hands and bent down to kiss her. "You're a damn spitfire. Feel like telling you how good you look naked or in my shirt is just going to go straight to this pretty little head of yours."

continued from here for @missautumn

#missautumn #ref: rhett x josephine #thread: rhett x josie 01

[thefvrious]

@ghostsxagain sent "💤❗" to wake jade up from a nightmare

Running. They're running. They can feel the sweat trickling down their spine, the gooseflesh rising like bile, the fear as tangible as anything around them.

It's nothing but sterile hallways, the Facility. It's just rows and rows of steel, reinforced doors, blinking lights, the annoying droning sound of the alarm as, once again, Jade tries to escape.

Freedom is just ahead. They can smell the night air — like something burning, something free — and the push themselves that little bit further until their arm is out that door and they feel the cool of the twilight on their flesh, the glow of the moon, but then there's something else... the feeling of a hand at Jade's collar, yanking them back, back, back into the Facility.

A sharp scream rips through them but it comes out muffled in the waking world, just a whimper. When Rhett looks at them, they are coated in a sheen of sweat and trembling, trapped in their nightmare and all but silently begging for help. So, when he shakes Jade to wake them, it takes a moment or two of harshly thrashing the latter's body around before they come to, wide eyed and delirious.

After Jade registers they aren't actually in the facility, a wave of relief crashes over them, their muscles like jelly from all the tension they'd built up, and a river of tears begins to stream down their eyes as they gasp and grasp at Rhett, their lifeline.

#jade wen ~ thread #jade x rhett #ghostsxagain #tw: nightmares

[lallyloo]

[x]

#this messy ponytail has me hanging on by a thread #rhett's messy ponytail #rhett mclaughlin #gmm #my screencaps etc #gmm 2237

[alllnights]

     ₊ ˚ ⊹  ❥    "okay. me, you. dinner tonight," smirks as he walks towards her, sitting on the edge of the desk. "i'm tired of tip-toeing around this so i want to finally take you on a date," he stated, before instantly getting worried that it sounded too demanding. "if you want to, that is." / @cinnamcroll

#❥ rhett no ﹕ threads. #❥ rhett no ﹕ with lin. #cinnamcroll

[sebsxphia]

Housewife reader not only marrying rhett but marries INTO the family (maybe bc she didnt have one 😔) and being so happy to help royal and cecelia, having an older brother in perry, having a niece and helping amy with schoolwork, having a dog too! For a moment rhett watches you interact with his family and says to himself that he is happy too because youre happy and youre home <3

“you’re happy, and you’re home”

dear anon!!! this got me so good 🥹 i’m so unstable omg

he always knew from day one you had a place in his family, but finally marrying into it? it’s endgame for him and he loves to see you thrive in a home that is truly yours.

alexa play matilda by harry styles

dear anon, thank you so so much for this wonderful thought omg! 💌 i always have time for housewife reader 🥹💖

#💌you’ve got mail #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #pretty little housewife :( #im CRYING #im holding on by a thread

[marimelwrites]

@writermuses - Continued from your reply to my open starter HERE!

When the man had appeared, Asli hadn't expected a handsome stranger to be watching her. It was almost nerve-wrecking in a way that she absolutely wasn't used to. She performed in front of perfect strangers all of the time. It was her job, after all, and yet she found herself almost shy and embarrassed around this one. It didn't seem to make any sense to her. Then again, her sister had been the one who was gifted with an overwhelming sense of confidence. It was almost as if Asli spend all the confidence she had been afforded to follow her passion to play music.

"Guitar? Really?" Asli's curiosity was piqued now. She wondered what it would take to convince this stranger to play something for her in return. There was a moment's pause as she considered his request before she finally offered up a counter-suggestion. "How about this? I don't mind playing another one for you, and I will, if I could get a chance to hear you play guitar? Is that something that you would be willing to do? I would hate to put you on the spot if you don't feel comfortable doing that." She hoped he would agree, but she wasn't going to push him to do something that might make him uncomfortable. No matter how curious she was to hear another person's musical talents.

#writermuses #ref: rhett x asli #thread: rhett x asli 01

[letsbenditlikebennett]

TIMING: Back when Alex&Cass were still living their mushroom ring high. PARTIES: @alan-duarte @magmahearts @ironcladrhett & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: After seeing the Barbie movie, Cass and Alex are feeling especially chaotic and decide to steal some dye and pool noodles to turn Alan's pool into a Barbie dream. They don't realize they're interrupting an Alan and Rhett spending an evening together.

Movie theaters weren’t really an experience that Alex had thought much about missing out on. Sure, she’d heard classmates talk about hitting up the movies on weekends, but the invitations rarely extended to her and she hadn’t really minded. She liked her books and her garden and her long walks through the forest anyway. However, experiencing it with Cass turned it into something else. They’d both worn pink in honor of the Barbie movie and the whole experience had an air of magic to it. From getting photos in the giant Barbie box to playing a couple of the arcade games and holding Cass’s hand in the dark theater as the movie played, it had all felt electric. It had her buzzing long after the credits stopped rolling and maybe that was part of how they’d found themselves with an assortment of pink pool noodles, pink pool dye, and pink pool floaties jumping the fence to Alan’s pool. 

Alex listened carefully as they crossed his property line. She knew if he was home, they’d have to be especially quiet. Sure, she probably could have asked Alan, but then she risked hearing the answer no and trespassing was more fun anyway. She knew Cass would agree on that one. She set the bags down on the ground and offered her hand to Cass to help her down into the yard. “I don’t hear him in there,” she whispered, “So I think we’re good, but should still be quiet anyway.”

Sneaking was part of the fun. They picked up the bags and Alex led them to the pool hand in hand. It was a nice set up, not that she expected anything less from Alan. She wondered if he ever really had people over back here. She knew the wet dog wasn’t exactly the best for a pool party and she had warned Cass about it, but it seemed to be just another thing that the oread was readily able to accept about her. “You wanna get the dye in and I’ll get a couple of these floaties blown up,” she asked, “And then… pool party if you’re still sure the wet dog smell isn’t gonna ruin the mood.” 

—

There was something about seeing a good movie that always made Cass feel like she’d caught fire. It was part of what had drawn her to humanity to begin with, part of what made her reject the notion that humans were bad or scary or inherently wrong. No one who was all bad could make media that captured her so thoroughly. She’d thought, for a long time, that there was no better feeling than sitting in the theater as those credits began to roll and experiencing the euphoria of existing in a space where all you were supposed to do was be. 

And then she’d experienced doing all of it with a pretty girl holding her hand and, well, she figured out she’d been wrong. There was something that could make it better. Who knew, right?

This, too, added to the excitement. The mischief of it, the quiet thrill. When they’d seen the pink pool dye on the shelf at the supermarket, the answer as to what they were going to do next had been obvious. Alex knew a guy with a pool, Cass could carry a whole lot of noodles, and some plans formed themselves without much prompting. 

“No worries,” she whispered, “I can be quiet. And the wet dog thing won’t bother me at all. I can make the water a little warmer for us, too, if you want.” She wasn’t gonna, like, dump magma in Alex’s friend’s pool or anything, but what if the water was cold at night? Cass didn’t like the cold, didn’t do particularly well in it. “But we should prooobably stay in the shallow end. I sink.” She grinned, shooting her friend a wink as they approached the pool. 

Standing on the side, she pulled open the first pack of pool dye. They’d “bought” a few, unsure how many it would take to actually do the deed. “Do you think I just…?” Rather than finishing the thought, she turned the package upside down over the water and began slowly walking around the pool, letting the dye spill out. “Oh, wow, it works fast.”

—

There was a certain music to the whispered words. Maybe it was just that Alex enjoyed them more than any song she’d ever heard. The quiet laughter, the soft hum of the nighttime breeze, their hearts both pounding with excitement— it was all a perfect soundtrack for a perfect night. Somehow Cass had a way of making everything feel like an adventure. Given their outings usually involved some degree of crime, not that breaking into Alan’s backyard was that crazy of a shenanigan. She doubted the elder werewolf would call the cops on her. Werewolf in jail was simply not the vibe. Plus, even if she hadn’t found Alan’s annoyed face funny, the gleeful look on Cass’s face would have been more than enough to make the minor infarction worth it. 

“Good,” she laughed quietly, “Really living up to your role as the hot one here. That’d be awesome though. It’s a little chilly out.” There was a small smirk that she directed at Cass as she got to work on the two coolest floaties– the unicorn and the pink corvette. They had to keep with the Barbie theme and keep some of that movie magic alive and all. “Without the boots, the shallow end is the deep end for me, so sounds like a plan,” she blushed. Something about the wink made it hard to fight the flush from making her cheeks as pink as Alan’s pool was quickly turning. 

“Damn,” she mused, “Couldn’t even answer, but I think you got it more than covered.” She got the remaining floatie blown up and tossed it in the pool alongside some of the pool noodles. She began to kick off her boots and made her way towards the steps, holding her hand out to take Cass’s in her own. “Come on, Barbie,” she whispered playfully, “Let’s go party.” 

—

The blush that flooded her face at Alex’s compliment was more of the orangish glow of magma than the pinkish flush that humans tended to grapple with, but Cass didn’t bother forcing her glamour to work overtime to hide it. She had no reason to. Alex was one of the few people who’d seen her in both her forms and liked them both. She didn’t scoff at her use of a glamour the way some fae did, didn’t flinch at the fiery nature of her true form the way humans tended to do. Alex liked her for her. Both ways. 

So she let her cheeks grow orange, let her smile widen. Here was someone, she thought, who wouldn’t leave her. Here was someone who didn’t even want to. “I can definitely fix that,” she said quietly, returning Alex’s smirk with one of her own. And then Alex was blushing, too, and there was a thrill of excitement at the fact that Cass had made it happen. The idea that she could make someone happy, make them feel good… It was all kinds of exciting.

Alex made quick work of the floaties, and Cass made quick work of the dye. She might have used… a little too much, given the way it seemed to be staining the edge of the liner, but it was fine. The pool was better pink, anyway; why would whoever lived here ever want it to be anything else. Kicking off her shoes, she took Alex’s hand with a grin. “Ready, Barbie?”

—

The pool was bright, Barbie pink and the stars reflecting in it gave it an almost sparkling appearance. Paired with the feeling of a warm and now familiar hand in her own, Alex noted that somehow again they gave their adventures an air of movie magic. Even something like a silly prank could feel bigger when she was with Cass and she found she never wanted to lose that feeling. The happiness and hopefulness of it all didn’t scare her like it normally would. Cass already knew she was a monster and wanted to be here with her anyway. It was hard to feel anything but lucky as she led Cass into the pink pool that the oread was quick to warm. 

“Ready, Barbie,” she joked as they submerged themselves in the water, “The water’s perfect.” It was probably staining her skin as she spoke, but it was hard to care when it was yet another opportunity to be close to Cass. The rockiness in Cass’s true form was apparent as the hand in hers grounded her. She was able to pull herself closer to Cass while floating just above the floor of the shallow end and she placed her other hand on Cass’s cheek. Even with her glamour, Cass had a certain glow that was hard to look away from, hard to pull away from. It was warm in a way that Alex felt like she could wrap herself in it and shield them both from all the cold in the world. Maybe that was a little unnerving, but Cass liked her too and she did say she’d do something about it. 

“You’re the most amazing person I know,” Alex whispered, “You make everything feel like an adventure and I feel really lucky that I get to know you.” She watched Cass’s face, her eyes lingering on the oread’s lips and how they seemed to have a magnetic pull on her. Even if kissing Cass wasn’t the plan, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to convince herself of doing anything else. She felt so warm, so seen, and there was no putting that into words. So she leaned in, prepared to take the metaphorical leap, and her lips were barely a breath away from Cass’s when the backdoor opened. “Damn it,” she breathed, certain that Cass would be able to feel the words before Alex stood taller to look over the edge of the pool. “It’s just me, Al,” she called out. 

—

“Anyhow, if you’re interested, I could probably-” He cut himself off. Why was he hearing noise coming from the garden? That was something that made him want to leave to the countryside. His ears picked up on every single little noise, and while that made for certainly embarrassing discoveries regarding his neighbors, Alan frankly could have done without it. “Excuse me, just going to check on…” His voice trailed off as he walked down the corridor that led to the back of the house and into the garden. 

Through the large bay windows, he first caught sight of the atrocities that had been committed against his carefully curated garden. “What the fuck,” the words, above a breath, were spoken as quietly as they were coated with disgust. He repeated them once again, this time lacing each word with disbelief. What happened? Why was his pool such a fucking mess? 

Exiting through the back door in a pale pink linen suit, the werewolf walked barefoot onto his wooden deck, locking his angered gaze onto Alex. “What the,” don’t swear in front of kids. Pause. Breathe. It’s just a child. “What did you do to my pool?” His jaw clenched as he caught sight of the tainted liner. Motherfucker. “We’re going to have to fix this.” 

—

The water rushed up to meet her, pink and sparkling and perfect, and Cass let out a squeal of delight as she was submerged. All the while, she gripped Alex’s hand in hers. Unable to float, she balanced on the tips of her toes to keep her head fully above water and give Alex something to grip as an anchor as she bobbed. The water was warm and everything felt perfect. More so when Alex’s hand brushed her cheek, making her feel warm and safe and wanted. 

Alex was speaking softly, saying things Cass had wanted to hear all her life. Their faces drew closer and closer together, until she could feel the warmth of Alex’s skin being drawn in by her own fire. Were her skin more sensitive, less rocky, she thought she probably would have been able to feel Alex’s breath against it but for once, she couldn’t bring herself to yearn for things she couldn’t have. What she did have was pretty great, in this moment. There was nothing but air between them not, and Cass smiled as Alex moved to close the rest of that distance, her eyes fluttering shut in anticipation…

…Only to snap open again when the door slammed open.

Cass squeaked comically, pulling away from Alex with a deep blush washing over her features. She turned towards the house to see some old guy standing there, looking… Well, not thrilled. Which was stupid, because they’d made his pool, like, a billion times better. He should really be reimbursing them for all the money they would have spent on that pool dye if they hadn’t stolen it. It was, like, thirty bucks a box!

Having recovered from the initial shock of unexpected company at the worst moment, Cass offered the stranger — Al? — her best smile. She’d perfected it, really. When you were a pickpocket who couldn’t lie your way out of situations, you kind of had to make due with what you had. “We turned your pool pink,” she told him, “in honor of our Lord and Savior, Margot Robbie. Um, I don’t really want you to swim with us right now, but you can keep the floats when we leave. Right, Alex?”

—

The sudden distance between her and Cass made the werewolf pout. Could Alan have not waited like two more minutes to walk out and have a freak out over his swimming pool being pink? He just had to choose the moment that Alex finally mustered the courage to finally kiss the girl she was decidedly crazy about. There was something in his frustration and Cass’s joke that made her giggle despite herself which she was sure would only piss the older werewolf off more. 

“The pink will fade, Olaplex,” Alex joked as she rested her elbows over the edge of the pool, “Chlorine in the pool water is supposed to kill it within a few hours, so embrace your Barbie dreams for the next… however many hours?” She feigned innocence with a tilted head even though she could tell it was starting to stain a little, but surely Alan had a pool person who he paid to keep his pool looking spick and span. 

If she wasn’t running on a little bit of a high and inclined to do whatever Cass wanted, Alex probably would have been a little bit more apologetic. Alan had been good to her and well, she cared about the guy more than she cared to admit. But right now was about fulfilling their Barbie dreams. “We’ll be out soon so you can enjoy it before it’s back to being… the just Ken of pools.” 

—

The pie was good. Not that Rhett had had doubts, not exactly—Alan didn’t really strike him as the baking type, but he also didn’t strike him as a liar, so… he knew there would be a pie, he just didn’t know how fuckin’ delicious it was gonna turn out. And it had been a while since the warden had had a good, proper dessert, so he made sure to sing the realtor’s praises.

Post-pie came the tour (didn’t want to leave a trail of crust crumbs, after all), and the showing-off of the dioramas the man so affectionately curated. What a bizarre hobby, Rhett thought. There were stranger ones, sure—like that warden that collected fae wings—and this one was harmless in the grand scheme of things, but it was… unexpected. Curious how Alan continued to be full of surprises. 

They were good, though. Extremely charming, which was not an emotion the hunter felt often. So he was enjoying it, exploring the miniaturized scenes with his eyes, until something drew Alan’s attention away from what he was explaining. With a raised brow, Rhett straightened up and watched him go, following after a beat, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. As he came upon the bay windows that revealed the scene outside, he laughed. 

“Oi, mate, why’s yer pool look like pepto bismol?” he questioned, deeply amused. There were two girls in the water that Alan was talking to now, and Rhett sidled up beside him, looking pleased with the situation. “No, no, I think he oughtta keep it pink. Matches yer suit!”

—

"You get out of there. Hurry up." Alan didn't care if they came to take a midnight bath in his swimming pool. If he had known, he would have pretended not to see anything, and he would probably have deserted the house for a while. He liked to go for a walk on the waterfront. Admittedly, the smells coming from the mines didn't make you want to stay outside forever, but he had always enjoyed being outside, even if it didn't seem like it. He loved camping. Proper camping, not that glamping bullshit.

Maybe it was being raised the hard way. Although his parents were much kinder these days, indulgence had not been their forte when he was young, and since he was the eldest and the example to follow for his brothers and sisters, one could not say that he had ever been given time to rest during his childhood. Up until highschool, they had kept him on a tight leash. Good luck doing that to the monster that rested within him now, he bitterly thought. 

Either way, those camping trips with his parents had been one of those few times when he could relax and sit back a little, and he felt a true connection to the activity. “Now,” his voice quivered, hesitant. He didn’t mind them being here, but he didn’t want them here either. They didn’t ask, they didn’t say they’d be here, and the intrusion was too much. “Alex, please, can you and your -” He cut himself off. Rhett had joined them outside and was having a great time. That made him the sour minority. “It matches my suit,” he rubbed his face. “Rhett, that’s not helpful.”

—

Alex’s ‘guy who owned a pool’ seemed pretty mad about the whole ‘pink’ thing. Which was stupid, because the pool was better now. Blue was boring and ordinary and stupid, but pink was hot. Literally. That was why they called it ‘hot pink.’ Another guy joined the first, looking like a punk rock Santa Claus with the beard and the outfit, and Cass’s eyebrows shot up. She looked over to Alex, tilting her head with a smirk as if to ask do you think we interrupted an old man date? 

In any case, Punk Rock Santa seemed like a lot more fun than Al. While Al was yelling at them to get out of the pool, the other guy — Rhett, apparently? — seemed like he was in on the joke. Cass smiled brightly, wading over to the edge of the pool. Rather than climb out, she cupped her hands together and shoved some of the pink water out, in Al’s direction, laughing as she did so. 

“Come on, mate,” she said, glancing over to Rhett with another bright grin as if they were both in on the same great joke now. “Don’t ruin the party! We’re not gonna mess up your boring pool!”

—

Somehow, the night just kept getting better. At first, Alex had been a little bit disappointed when Alan had come out of the house, even if he was perfectly on theme in his pink linen. He was all concerned about his pool which seemed kind of dramatic. Even if the dye wasn’t temporary, the guy was like crazy rich. It wasn’t like it’d be a problem to fix either way. 

But then there was another old guy walking out and Alex felt practically giddy. Was Alan on a date, too? If so, this guy seemed cool and totally liked their joke. Even pointed out how Alan matched his pool now, which was totally a fashion choice, she was sure of it. Still, if this was a date, she could at least listen and get out of the pool. She was pretty sure the moment with Cass was ruined anyway. “Fine,” she said with a dramatic eye roll, “But he is right, you know, it goes perfectly with your outfit. You could be in here with us living your best Barbie life.” 

As she moved to get out, Cass was splashing Alan and despite the fact she tried to stifle her laughter, a few giggles still escaped as she stepped out of the pool. Alex tried to direct them at the ground to be a little less blatantly a menace in front of Alan’s date, but she knew Alan would still hear them loud and clear. “You don’t have to worry about the pool though. Will be gone in a few hours,” she assured, “So enjoy your being on theme while you can.” 

Well, it was a weak attempt at assuring Alan, but she knew Cass would be amused which seemed like priority one as of late. “She’s my date,” she smirked, “You can say date. Because clearly we all have the same idea about what night of the week is date night.” She stood near the edge of the pool and extended a hand toward Cass. “Come on, Cass,” she motioned hoping the oread would take her hand, “I know his pool’s nice, but the guy’s not Jeff Bezos. And I actually kind of like him or something, so we can let him enjoy his Barbie moment before the magic fades.” 

—

“It’s so helpful!” Rhett argued with a grin, giving Alan a pat on the back before approaching the poolside. That was when he actually noticed it—it’d been quiet to start, probably on account of him being distracted by… well, by the situation, but it was clear as day now. 

He looked to the one called Cass and his eyes narrowed imperceptibly. That frantic, uncomfortable energy that buzzed through his head and chest like table saws peaked as his gaze fell on her, and a fist clenched at his side. The urge to grab her and drag her from the pool was instinctual, and he had to fight back against it hard. Not here. Not now. 

Their eyes met as she splashed some water toward Alan and plucked a word from what he’d said a moment ago, the grin on her face doing little to make him reconsider the knowledge of what needed to be done. Still, he could fake amiability. It was a practiced talent, even if a bit rusty. 

The suggestion that this, Rhett being at the realtor’s house to look at his dioramas and eat pie, was a date, didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. He at least let his attention pull away from the nymph to jump to the one speaking, Alex, and then back to Alan. He gave a shrug as if to say Well, she’s kinda right and even managed to put on a smirk in spite of the hornet’s nest that sat behind those big, brown eyes. 

—

“Unbelievable. Look at the state of the liner. Do you know how much it’ll cost to replace?” Shooting a glare at Rhett who decidedly was proving to be unhelpful, Alan approached the pool’s side, which really was his mistake, considering how irresponsible the two young ladies were. Who, in their right mind, would break into someone’s property, vandalize it, and then have the nerve to complain when the owner called them out on it ? Well, apparently, the same people who were willing to stain his suit too. 

Eyes round like saucers, Alan’s attention went from Alex, to her annoying date, then back to Rhett, looking at him as if to apologize for this nonsense. But he seemed to be having a great time, and that left the werewolf with no other choice than to take a step back and contemplate his loneliness. A crestfallen air on his face, he sat on the end of one of his deck lounging chairs. He wouldn’t argue with teenagers. Come morning, he’d have a conversation with Alex’s cousins. Crossing his arms to hug himself, he looked blankly at the menacingly pink tint of the pool water, jarring and not looking any bit temporary to his eyes. 

“You could have asked,” he wouldn’t have said yes to this disaster, obviously, but the benign, very temporary (he tried to remind himself) loss of control left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. Alan didn’t seem like it, perhaps because he always seemed like he had everything in order, but specks of dust in the machine was all it took for him to lose his footing. And that was why he made sure to get rid of any chance of dust, any source of it, anything. He didn’t expect Alex would take such a liking in his company, or grow to trust him like that. Maybe that was what really unsettled him : not the intrusion, but the realization that he was still capable of drawing connections with people. 

—

Cass took no notice of Rhett’s reaction to her. His outward reaction was so minimal, and the events unfolding around it were so much more distracting. Alex was calling her her date, and her heart picked up a tick as it soared in her chest, excitement swirling around it. Alan was talking about his pool liner, and it shouldn’t have been funny but it was anyway. It was hard for anything to harsh her vibe when, even as she climbed out of the pool, she felt as if she was floating. 

At least, until Alan seemed to deflate. Guilt gnawed at her, the expression flickering briefly across her face. She shouldn’t have splashed him, she realized; it was clear that he wasn’t having fun, and when someone wasn’t having fun and you laughed anyway, it was less ‘laughing with’ and more ‘laughing at.’ And Cass had never wanted to be the sort of person who laughed at someone. She never really had been before, either. Things had been so… strangely muddled lately, like murky water rising in her chest. It had her doing things she wouldn’t normally do and saying things she wouldn’t normally say.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, looking down at her feet. “We thought you’d like it.” Her stomach clenched at the lie, and she grit her teeth around the pain of it. It wasn’t a huge lie, so the pain wasn’t overwhelming; they hadn’t thought he’d like it, but they hadn’t really thought he’d hate it, either. Cass couldn’t speak for Alex, of course, but for her… she hadn’t really thought of the owner of the pool at all. Her mind hadn’t gone any farther than the girl whose hand was in hers. “Maybe you and your boyfriend can still enjoy it, though? It really is nice once you’re in there. It’s cool. Do you have goggles? I bet it’d look cool to look around underwater with goggles.” 

—

There was something in the way that Alan seemed to grow a bit smaller that made her almost wish for the sharp anger she was used to from her own father. At least then, it was Alex who was chipped away at and that was how it was supposed to be. It seemed Cass picked up on the shift in his mood too and her apology only further made Alex want to help brighten the older werewolf’s mood. She walked toward him and hesitantly patted his arm with an apologetic look. “You don’t have to pay someone,” she offered quietly, “I can come by tomorrow and clean it if it leaves a stain.” 

Not that the guy didn’t have the money to get it cleaned professionally if it was needed, but Alex felt bad. The anger seemed to dissipate into something more… crestfallen. Which wasn’t fun. It was fun when Alan was annoyed, but this wasn’t that and it never really occurred to her that the man could have such a blank look in his eyes. He was always so put together like a camera could pop out any moment to get a new business card photo or something, but this? It felt all too familiar to expressions she tried to hide and they didn’t fit Alan. “I’m sorry, too,” she said, “I thought it’d be more annoying haha than… Well, I don’t know. I don’t think I was thinking that much.” 

The goggles idea was fun and Alex wondered why they hadn’t stolen those from the store, too. It probably looked super cool in the pink water and at least if she had that to offer, maybe Alan could at least try to enjoy it. Or not. If his date didn’t know about the werewolf thing, the wet dog smell could be off-putting. She’d really lucked out with Cass in that department and instinctively, her hand found Cass’s again. “Goggles are a good idea,” she agreed, “But enjoy your date, I’m sorry. Chlorine should kill off the pink before the morning. I’ll come by and clean anything remaining? I can bring breakfast, too. Don’t worry, it won’t be cooked by me– my cousin or A Latte to Love do all my cooked breakfast items.” 

—

It was a little sad, seeing the normally cocky (or surprisingly helpful) man look so defeated. Though Rhett’s thoughts wanted to turn to one thing and one thing alone, he knew that there was no way he’d be getting to that fae kid tonight. But he knew people who knew it, and could follow up at a less conspicuous time. So, the warden put a padlock on that particular door for now, letting the shitstorm brew somewhere where it couldn’t be seen. 

Boyfriend. Hah. “Ah… c’mon, Al. It ain’t that bad,” Rhett offered, already kicking off his boots and rolling up the legs of his jeans. “They’re sorry, aye? Won’t happen again. Coulda picked a worse color, anyway… imagine green. Or brown.” Pulling a face at the two young women, focusing his gaze on Alex rather than Cass, he did his best to be agreeable. “N’ look, they was in it, n’ they ain’t pink. Yer liner’s gonna be fine.” He parked his butt poolside, dipping his shins into the brightly colored water and smirking down at the sight of it. Leaning back on his hands, he motioned for Alan to come over where he was with a jerk of his head. “Don’t fret ‘bout the shit ya can’t control, mate. Ain’t nothin’ to do ‘bout it but enjoy it.”

—

Rubbing at his face, the older werewolf’s gaze fell to a point in the distance. He knew that whatever he would say wouldn’t be kind and that’s why he chose silence. For better or worse, his days of being bound to kindness had made him reassess his preferred ways of dealing with others. There would still be folks that would prefer his old fashioned way of making conversation, defensive and aggressive at once, but no one, who wasn’t asking for it, deserved his rage pouring out on them. 

And now he sat on the edge of the pool alongside Rhett, who tried his best, just like Alex and her friend, to assure him that it would be okay, or tried to have him see the silverlining in the upsetting situation.

He took a breath. Maybe he just had to accept that not everything in his life could be under his control. Considering all the shit he had gone through, he should have realized by now that all you could ever do was just that : go with the flow and accept things the way they came your way. He'd probably have been a lot less exhausted if he just let things happen, yes.

With a sigh, the werewolf looked over at the two girls, offering them with a reassuring smile. All in all, this was hardly the worst thing they would have done. "You two enjoy the rest of your night, and try to stay safe," with a knowing look, he crossed his legs against the tiles, leaning onto his hands. "Breakfast sounds good Alex. I'll see you tomorrow morning," if you could tell from his tone that he hadn't fully recovered from the bad surprise, at least, for now, most of his distress seemed to have quieted down and he allowed himself to glance over at Rhett, who hadn't say much on the date or boyfriend comments, and who probably was gloating about the realtor's embarrassment. "Don't. Not a damn word."

—

For a moment, Cass was afraid that they’d really messed up. Alex’s friend was mad, and what if that made Alex mad at her? What if the whole ordeal turned Alex off of whatever it was that was building between the two of them? Cass’s heart picked up pace at the idea, fear taking her by the throat in a strangling grip. But the combination of Alex and Alan’s bearded friend seemed to work wonders in calming him down, and after a moment, he relaxed a little. Cass offered him an apologetic smile, trying to push down the leftover anxiety.

“We will,” she replied, looking over to Alex with a small smile. It was kind of hard not to enjoy a night she got to spend with Alex. “You guys have a nice night, too. Um, have fun doing… whatever you were doing?” Better not to think about what the details of that had probably been. “And we’ll clean up when we go!”

—

There was something in Alan's voice that still didn't sound quite right to her. It seemed to be a lot deeper than a pink swimming pool. Alex knew it had to be bigger than a pink swimming pool. As much as he kept both his home and office looking almost coldly pristine, it was still just a pool and couldbe fixed. There was this underlying feeling that ther ewas something bigger that she couldn't quite understand, but she found the older werewolf surprised her in a lot of ways.

”See you tomorrow,“ Alex murmured, ”And please try to enjoy the rest of your night. That pink linen suit is way too slay to have anything but fun in.” 

She offered Alan and Rhett an awkward wave before turning back to Cass to grab the oread's hand. Her gaze fell to the pink pool that she had thought looked so amazing at first and found herself hoping the color faded quickly. They could at least gather all the pool noodles for now so that it looked less like soup. “Come on,” she reassured, “We'll collect the noodles for now and I'll come back in the morning to make sure all the pink gets out... what do say we go try to find some lava cakes or something?” 

#wr alan #wr rhett #wr cass #wickedswriting #threads; with cass #threads; with alan #threads; with rhett #threads; with cass; alan's dreamhouse #threads; with alan; alan's dreamhouse #threads; with rhett; alan's dreamhouse #(never been a natural all i do is try try try) ;; writing #(the moonlight's blinding) ;; season 1 writing

[atvrvxia]

&. open to females and non-binary

premise: rhett is the reincarnation of morgana le fay from the arthurian legends. he’s a trust fund baby and socialite, who is sort of a black sheep compared to his older half brother, who is the heir to their father’s wealth and business empire. given his sibling rivalry with his brother, he’s always too happy and eager to make things complicated for axel. your muse can be his brother’s best friend, his brother’s ex, or even someone his brother might be interested in. 

                           “IF YOU’RE here to tell me what an idiot my brother was being... you don’t have to tell me,” rhett chuckled, plopping down beside them. he knew better than to ask what exactly axel did this time. but knowing how arrogant and prattish the older man could be, rhett’s sure there’s plenty of things that axel might have said or done that might have made the other upset with him. he takes a swig from the bottle of beer he has in his hand, before setting it down on the table in front of him. he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, before a mischievous smirk formed on his lips. “what do you say if you and i do something to get back at him for being an idiot?” he suggested, a glint in his eyes. “we could fake date, you know? it’d piss him off; rightfully so because he’s been pissing me off... and you, of course. so; what’d you say? you in?” 

#indie rp #indie para rp #indie smut rp #⋮ ❛ rhett fitzroy. › threads. #⋮ ❛ open › starters.

[flipsthct]

       ₊˚ʚ @ofredemption​

                  ᗢ₊˚                  “   if   i   didn’t   let   go   of   your   hand   then   would   we   still   be   holding   onto   each   other   ?   ”   rhett   raising   his   head   to   look   at   the   other   standing   in   front   of   him   as   he   spoke   ,   a   soft   sigh   following   his   previous   words   .   never   before   has   he   wanted   to   protect   someone   like   this   before   ,   keep   someone   safe   ,   but   she   had   a   strange   hold   over   him   and   he   had   tried   running   from   it   .   clearly   ,   it   hadn’t   worked   all   that   well   .   

#₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟrhett no → threads. #ofredemption

[dissonancez]

❝ closed starter . ❞

featuring: evie + @rhettmatthewsx​​​​​​

location: a random diner

EVELYN’S sitting across from him in the squeaky diner booth they seemed to end up at. she shakes her head at him, letting out a sigh. ❝ tell me it’s going better for you than me ! ❞ evie hopes. maybe he’d be doing better at the whole life thing. you’d imagine they’d have it all together at their age, but they were just getting started. ❝ would an omelet make it all better ? ❞ she asks, holding the large menu up before herself. ❝ no– a pancake and bacon would definitely make it all better for me, ❞ she continues. ❝ hmm. how about you ? what’re you in the mood for ? ❞

#❝ thread — best interest. ❞ #rhett .