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#you’ll want to gouge your eyes out afterwards
whumpsday · 2 years
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SPK: Hope
~ Whumpmas in July Day 24: Rescued ~
Masterlist
content: rescue, pet whump, vampire whumpee, vampire caretaker, multiple whumpees, mind control (incl. forced to take one’s own life), major character death, starvation, creepy/intimate whumper, burns, collar, threat of eye whump, very brief mention of past noncon
hi all! spk is the crossover au between my kane & jim and @whumpshaped​​‘s writer whumper where instead of being rescued by jim, kane is taken by seth and held captive alongside pumpkin. to clear up any confusion: pumpkin uses they/them, seth uses he/they.
in the writer whumper timeline, takes place instead of these events! dialogue written by @whumpshaped​ is taken from these pieces & dms.
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“I want... that.”
Kane watched in horror as Sir smiled and pointed at Pumpkin’s left eye. His silver collar was chained to the wall, leaving him helpless as the flesh of his neck burned. Pumpkin even more so, heavily restrained, no doubt for what Sir was about to do.
“M-My, my eye?” Pumpkin asked, voice laced with fear.
“Please, Sir, I’ll do it.” Kane interrupted. “You can take my eye, you can take both my eyes, please.”
He hated having his eyes gouged out. It hurt, and left him blinded for at least several days afterwards, but at least his would grow back. Pumpkin’s wouldn’t.
Someone knocked on the front door, upstairs.
Sir ignored them. “I’ve practiced enough on you, leech. Now shut up, or I’ll make it tighter.”
Kane would have kept begging if he thought it would do any good, would have taken it for Pumpkin, if he thought there was some way he could save them from what was about to happen, but there wasn’t. The thought of the burning metal pressing tighter into his skin made tears spring to his eyes as the words died in his throat.
Sir turned back to Pumpkin, caressing their cheek almost gently. “You’d give it up for me, wouldn’t you? Happily?”
Pumpkin hesitated before responding, “How are y-you… g-going to do it, Sir?”
Sir leaned in close to them, wiping away a tear. “I’m going to grab it with my bare hand and pluck it out.” he whispered.
Pumpkin’s breath hitched, and Kane’s heart sunk as Sir placed a kiss to their cheek. He wondered if Sir was going to have him lick the wound closed. The mild healing properties of vampire saliva weren’t meant for this, it was meant for fang puncture wounds. Pumpkin already hated him licking those, he couldn’t imagine how they would feel about him licking their bleeding eye socket after Sir ripped their eye out.
Kane’s own eyes welled up with tears, dread filling him as he anticipated the pained screams of his dearest friend.
Another knock at the door, more this time, more insistent. Kane wondered if the humans could hear it. He knew they had worse hearing than vampires, but surely they could?
Yes, they definitely could, because Sir got an irritated look on their face that made Kane’s heart skyrocket with fear. It was never good when Sir was irritated. At least he was looking up the basement stairs and not at either of them.
Still, Sir ignored the knocking, turning back to Pumpkin with a grin as his hand reached for their eye.
“No, w-wait, no, please, Sir, Sir please don’t-”
The knocking increased in intensity to the point where it might be more appropriate to call it banging.
The relief Kane felt when Sir pulled away from Pumpkin was quickly quelled by the terror at the sight of his furious face.
“I’ll be right back.” Sir announced as they ascended the stairs, door slamming shut behind him.
“K-kane, I’m scared.” Pumpkin whimpered.
“It’s going to be okay.” he lied. “I’ve, I’ve done it before. It’s horrible, but not the worst. It’s not as bad as-” He cut himself off before he could say having your limbs cut off. No reason to frighten Pumpkin by making them think Sir might try that on them. Kane really, really hoped he wouldn’t. “It’ll be okay. It’s going to hurt, but not forever. You’ll still be able to see with the other one. I’ll hold you after, if Sir lets-”
Kane stopped instantly as he heard a voice he never thought he’d hear again. An achingly familiar voice.
Bellamy.
He couldn’t quite make out the words, but it was him. Bellamy was at the door, speaking to Sir.
Cold horror washed over him. No, no, Bellamy couldn’t be here. Sir couldn’t take Bellamy too. He didn’t deserve this. No no no no no!
Wait.
It had been so long since Kane had seen another vampire, he’d almost forgotten he was broken. Bellamy could use persuasion. Not only could he use it, he was a prodigy, able to manipulate humans better than almost any other vampire on earth, not that he’d ever use it. Could he...
“That’s, that’s Bellamy.” Kane said urgently.
“What?” Pumpkin asked tearfully.
“Bellamy, I told you about him, that’s him! Upstairs!” Kane insisted. “He could save us!”
Bellamy’s voice rang out clear enough for Kane to hear. “Take me to him.”
Two sets of footsteps approached the basement, the door opening before Pumpkin could respond. Sir wore an expression Kane had never seen on him before: the telltale dazed look of a hypnotized human.
And a moment later, following behind him, Bellamy. He looked just the same as he had the last time Kane had seen him, at the reunion, what must have been well over a decade ago. But here he was, like a knight in shining armor.
Kane broke out into a huge smile.
“Kane!” Bellamy shouted, tears in his eyes, running to where he sat chained. “It’s alright dear, I’m here.” He reached to wrap him up in his arms.
“Bellamy, wait!” Kane was too late, and Bellamy recoiled back with a yelp as he singed himself on the chain. “...It’s silver.”
Bellamy turned furiously to Sir. “Unlock him this instant.”
Sir wordlessly obeyed, a sight so surreal Kane could hardly comprehend it as he sighed in relief at the release of the horrible silver collar.
As Bellamy looked him over, Kane suddenly became ashamed of his current state. He was shirtless, most of his more recent injuries exposed, with a collar-shaped burn seared into his neck.
With Sir, he had no shame, he’d take humiliation over pain every single time. But he didn’t want Bellamy to see him like this. He crossed his arms over his chest, his face flushing red as he looked up at his former friend.
“Thank you.” he whispered.
Bellamy showed no sign of disdain or mockery at his current state, giving him a shaky smile. “Of course, darling.”
"Wh- what are you- what are you going to do, what’s happening?" Pumpkin asked, concerned.
Kane made his way over to them. With a quick glance back at Sir, to made sure he wasn’t in danger, he started undoing the straps holding them down. “It’s okay, Bellamy’s using persuasion. Sir can’t hurt us anymore. We can leave. We can go home.”
Pumpkin did not look happy about this, as he might have expected. If anything, they looked more distressed than before. “But- I can’t leave Sir.” they protested.
Bellamy looked around the room in visibly growing horror, eyes lingering on the torture instruments before landing back on Sir. “You did this to him?” Remembering Pumpkin, still restrained, he corrected himself. “To the two of them?”
“Yes.” Sir said, monotone.
“No.” Pumpkin pleaded, panic seeping into their voice.
Kane had never heard Bellamy so serious before. “Die.”
Sir walked over to his desk and picked up a knife, one Kane had felt the blade of so many times before.
“Wait, wait, no!” Pumpkin wailed. “Don’t, please! Don’t kill him!”
Kane nervously looked to Bellamy, who thankfully showed no signs of listening to them.
Sir slashed their own throat, blood spilling from his neck like a fountain. Pumpkin screamed, overwhelmed with terror and despair.
And suddenly, Kane couldn’t think.
Blood.
Kane was usually fed about once a week: an unbelievable mercy after years of total starvation with the hunters, but nowhere near enough to stave off the hunger that made its home inside him.
There might as well have been nothing in the room but him and the delicious, wonderful blood erupting from Sir’s falling body. Kane was on him not a moment after they hit the floor, sinking his fangs into the wound on Sir’s throat, drinking.
He wasn’t sure how long he fed for, but eventually, he came to his senses, finally sated.
“NO, NO, NO!” Pumpkin screamed. They’d been screaming the whole time, but Kane had been too frenzied.
“I will not harm you, I swear it.” Bellamy asserted, voice steeped in worry, hands up in a classic mean-no-harm gesture a few feet away from them. “All I wish is to free you of the remainder of your bindings.”
Kane rushed to Pumpkin’s side, hesitating when they stared at him in horror. He hastily wiped the blood from his mouth. “It’s okay, Pumpkin, it’s okay. We’re safe now. We can go home with Bellamy.”
“No.” Pumpkin insisted, face streaked with tears, looking terrified by the mere suggestion. “Kane, please, please. He killed Sir. He’s going to kill me.”
“I will do no such thing.” Bellamy protested.
“He won’t hurt you.” Kane agreed, undoing the last of their restraints. “I promise, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
Pumpkin clung to him, shaking with fear. “He killed Sir. He killed Sir.”
“Sir was seconds away from taking your eye. Bellamy saved us.” Kane tried to argue, holding them tight.
Pumpkin was not convinced. “I’m his! It’s his to take.” Their voice broke.
Kane knew Pumpkin was more attached to Sir, while he only feared them. But he hadn’t thought their attachment went this deep. That they would protest being rescued.
The thought of Pumpkin not coming with him was unbearable. He couldn’t be apart from them. He would follow them to the ends of the earth. Pumpkin was his best friend. “If... if you won’t come with us, where will you go?”
Pumpkin looked up at him in despair. “Don’t leave me. I don’t have anywhere else.”
“Never.” Kane assured them immediately. “Never, I’ll never leave you. I love you, Pumpkin, you’re my best friend. I could never leave you. Please, come with us.”
Pumpkin hesitated, glancing behind him at Bellamy fearfully, but eventually nodded. They buried their face in his shoulder, sobbing. “Sir’s dead.”
Kane had never been so relieved by a piece of information. Finally, it was over. No more torture. Sir would never burn him, leave him chained with silver, leave him in the sun again. Sir would never cut him open, cut parts of him away again. Sir would never rape him again. Sir would never hurt either of them again, would never touch either of them again. Sir would never take Pumpkin’s eye, would never take any more of their remaining eight fingers. They were free.
But Pumpkin was distressed. Pumpkin was scared.
“Here.” Kane said gently, guiding them to their one and only belonging, a plush rabbit, and handing it to them. “Take Jello.”
Pumpkin clutched the stuffed animal tightly, still shaking with sobs.
“It’s going to be okay.” Kane promised. “I’ve got you.”
Bellamy took a step forward hesitantly, worry still etched into his face. “I’ll need to carry you both home. I don’t believe you’re quite strong enough to make the run right now, darling.”
Pumpkin cringed away with a whimper, their shaking worsening. “No, no, please, I don’t want to die!” They began to hyperventilate.
Kane’s heart broke for them, wishing he could do something to soothe their panic. It wasn’t fair. Pumpkin deserved to be happy, they were safe now.
“I won’t-” Bellamy started.
“Bellamy.” Kane interrupted. His eyes flitted between Bellamy and Pumpkin as he gave the former a knowing look.
Bellamy shook his head instantly. “I will not, I would need their permission.”
“Please, Bel. They’re suffering.” He held Pumpkin in his arms, rocking them slightly.
Bellamy pursed his lips, thinking. “Alright. I... alright. But I don’t like this.”
Pumpkin suddenly relaxed in his arms.
“Sleep, dear.” Bellamy commanded, his voice soft.
Pumpkin’s eyes closed, their head falling against Kane.
“Thank you.” Kane whispered.
“Shall we head home?” Bellamy asked.
He had never heard something better in his entire life. “Please.”
Bellamy scooped him and Pumpkin both up in his arms. “Let us bid this horrid place adieu.”
-
Kane had never been to Bellamy’s house before. They’d stopped being friends just over one-hundred years ago, when they were still both just teenagers living with their parents. He looked around in awe, having seen little but Sir’s house and his cell at the hunters’ over what Bellamy informed him was the past eight years.
It was huge, of course. Disgraced or not, Bellamy was a noble. He pointed out a pair of spare bedrooms Kane and Pumpkin could use, though Kane doubted they would use more than one. The chance to be together without one or both of them chained to the wall or locked in a cage was a privilege.
Bellamy gently laid Pumpkin on the bed inside before giving them some space. Kane sat with them, stroking their hair, waiting for them to wake from their induced nap. After about an hour, their eyes fluttered open.
“It’s okay. I’m here.” Kane told them immediately.
Pumpkin squeezed Jello as their eyes wandered the room. “Where...?”
“We’re at Bellamy’s house.”
They sat up, starting to tear up again. “Sir’s dead?” they whispered.
“Yes.” Kane confirmed, wrapping them up in a hug, starting to cry as well. He could hardly believe he was out. Eight years of torture, and he was out. “We’re safe now. We’re both safe.”
As his best friend cried in his arms, Kane felt hope for the first time.
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bellamy saves kane au so nice i wrote it twice. this time with pumpkin spice :)
wanna be sadder? here’s what happens if bellamy never finds them
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@whumpmasinjuly​
taglist:
@lilac-and-lemon-whumps
@localvoidwhumper​​
@lost-in-labradorite-halls​​
@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump​​​
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ladycatofwinterfell · 3 years
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Can i see the post about cat and littlefinger becajse i cant FUCKING believe this people exist🤦‍♀️
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I hope you’re happy anon because I feel sick about that this wretched picture is on my blog
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hartigays · 3 years
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please take this as a prompt to write as angsty a fic as u want. mwah mwah (💌 — astrid)
(to preface: this is basically just canon divergence nonsense after barry burns rafe’s arm on his bike in s1 👹)
rafe jerks awake with a start.
he’s not sure what roused him from his (not so peaceful) slumber, until he hears the sharp knock again. it’s something hitting one of his bedroom windows - the one closest to his bed.
the room feels like a deep freezer when rafe crawls out from between his sheets. he likes the room to be cold when he sleeps - he has dreams, and dreams make him sweat.
(maybe they can be classified more as nightmares. but no one is asking, so it doesn’t really matter either way.)
rafe enjoys the cold significantly less when he has to walk through it in the middle of the night. it feels good on his arm, at least, where barry burned him. it soothes the sting that he’d been able to ignore while unconscious.
when rafe walks up to the window to investigate, he nearly keels over and dies.
because the source of the noise is none other than barry the fucking coke dealer himself.
speak of the devil, and whatnot.
rafe shoves the window open with a grunt. it opens outward, nearly knocking barry off the roof and onto the ground below. the corner of rafe’s lips twitch - he really would’ve liked to have seen that.
if he knew barry had such bad balance and coordination, rafe probably would’ve shoved the window open a little harder.
“i said i’d get you your money,” rafe says, the first to speak.
barry just rights himself, arching one brow. “i know.”
“so why the fuck are you here?”
barry doesn’t wait for an answer. he simply stares at rafe for a beat, before crawling through the window, elbowing rafe out of the way in the process.
the movement makes rafe’s arm throb, and he clutches at it with a hiss.
not sparing rafe a single glance, barry just circles the room, whistling. far too loud for this time of night.
“sweet setup you got here, country club,” barry tells him. he finally turns to look at rafe head-on, his dark eyes unreadable.
rafe is still clutching his arm, wincing. “thanks. it looks nicer without you in it, so. bye.”
barry laughs, a full-bodied thing that should make rafe want to kill him. it certainly shouldn’t make rafe shudder like a bitch in heat, but it does.
it does.
“ain’t getting rid of me that easy,” barry snorts. then, his gaze zeroes in on rafe’s hand grasping his wounded arm. “get over here and lemme see that.”
“no,” rafe answers, immediately, shaking his head. “no fucking way.”
barry purses his lips. he stares at rafe like he’s staring into his soul, and rafe wants to gouge his eyes out so he’ll stop.
“wasn’t aware i gave you an option, baby boy.”
rafe’s heart does a messy little dance in his chest, and his insides feel like a puddle of goo.
he hates barry, he really does. the fucker gave him a 3rd degree burn not even twelve hours ago. and yet. here rafe stands, eyes and stomach full of hearts and butterflies and all that disgusting shit, all because of something as pathetic as a nickname.
it’s not even an affectionate nickname. it’s condescending, and it should make rafe want to tear someone’s head off. preferably barry’s.
it doesn’t.
rafe moves closer, cautiously. when he’s within reach, barry just reaches out and grabs rafe’s bad arm, yanking him in and closing the distance.
rafe bites his tongue so hard he nearly draws blood, trying to stuff his pained groan right back down his throat. it doesn’t really work, and barry notices, but doesn’t comment on it.
instead, he takes rafe’s arm and examines it, like the burn is something he’s never seen before. like he’s not the one who put it there.
“lemme fix this up for you,” barry mumbles, still staring at rafe’s arm. like maybe the burn will magically sprout legs and run off into the night, never to be seen again.
“why?” rafe asks, swallowing around the lump that has been steadily growing in his throat since barry’s arrival.
barry uses his free hand to grasp rafe’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “because you ain’t in control, rafe cameron. and you need to get that through your pretty little head.”
“that doesn’t answer my question, like, at all,” rafe mutters, then winces when barry’s grip on his arm and chin both tighten.
“because i’m in control,” barry continues, like rafe never even spoke at all, “you got that? you ain’t making the decisions around here no more.”
“wasn’t aware i was making any decisions in the first place,” rafe mutters, glaring down at his arm.
barry lifts rafe’s arm up, releasing his chin to gently trace his fingers over the tender wound. rafe winces again, and barry grins like a shark.
“quit arguin’ and be a good boy like your momma taught ya. and while you’re behaving, go get me some first aid shit.”
rafe feels like he’s frozen in place, the words turning over and over and over in his head. until barry’s nails dig in, and then he’s crying out, stumbling backwards. he’s out of the room a second later, practically tripping over himself as he heads down the hall to the storage closet where he knows ward keeps emergency supplies, disoriented.
by some miracle, the first aid kit is sitting right in the center of the middle shelf. rafe snatches it without a thought, turning to head back to his room before pausing.
barry has never been in control. it’s a pathetic illusion, rafe decides. he won’t gain control either - another thing rafe decides. and barry needs to be made aware of that.
rafe steels himself, trying to keep his chin up as he walks back into his room. he’s not going to let barry play this little game - not in his house, not after that little shitshow of a display this afternoon.
barry has his back turned, looking at some of the paintings hung on rafe’s walls. rafe walks up as quietly as he can, but he knows the moment barry realizes he’s behind him. because barry’s body tenses just so, just enough for rafe to notice.
when barry turns, rafe swings.
barry catches rafe’s fist easily, and okay. maybe barry isn’t as unbalanced or uncoordinated as rafe had thought. in a split second, barry has a hand wrapped around rafe’s throat, squeezing tight enough that rafe wheezes.
walking them back towards rafe’s bed - forcibly, rafe would like to make that clear - barry’s face twists into a furious snarl.
rafe collapses onto the bed with a gasp when barry lets go of his neck, coughing and wheezing as he tries to catch his breath.
“try that shit one more time,” barry warns, “and you ain’t gonna like what comes next.”
then, barry leaves rafe sprawled on the bed, massaging his throat, and makes a beeline for the first aid kit. rafe can hear him rummaging through it, grumbling to himself, before returning with a few assorted items.
when barry kneels down in front of him, right on his knees, rafe almost passes out again. he feels like he’s trapped in one of his nightmares, with some added sexual tension to spice things up a bit.
“gimme your arm,” barry orders, and rafe complies.
his throat is still aching, and he’s not particularly interested in barry making that worse, too. it’s already bad enough that barry is probably about to skin him alive - he doesn’t need any more choking involved. unless it’s the sexy kind.
but even then, rafe isn’t particularly interested. not when slaughtering barry in his room feels so incredibly tantalizing right now.
instead of skinning him alive, barry just smooths burn cream over the blistered mark on rafe’s arm. the way barry rubs it in is almost soothing; a smooth circling of his fingers, his touch almost featherlight.
when the burn cream sets, barry grabs some gauze from the pile next to him. he’s about to plaster it onto rafe’s arm when he pauses, staring at the burn like he’s been hypnotized.
“you sure are pretty when you all marked up,” barry says, breathless, like just the thought of marking rafe leaves him reeling.
rafe wishes, fleetingly, that barry would be interested in marking him in ways that wouldn’t leave him in agonizing pain afterward.
but wishes never really do come true, do they?
barry finally places the gauze on rafe’s arm, carefully, then wraps it up in a sticky bandage. he looks up at rafe when he’s finished, finally not staring at the burn like it’s something fucking holy.
“you’re not in control,” rafe tells him, his voice trembling. “you’re not. just because you did this doesn’t- ”
“you damn right i did this,” barry hisses, lurching upright so he can tower over rafe.
it’s the only time he can, really, what with rafe being a walking skyscraper and all.
“i gave the pain, i took it away,” barry continues. “ain’t that control, princess?”
“no,” rafe argues, shaking his head furiously. “no.”
“what would you call it then, if you so damn smart?”
rafe glares up at him, gritting his teeth. “i don’t fucking know, sadism? narcissism?”
barry snorts, then leans down and plants both hands on either side of rafe’s head, boxing him in. “then we one in the same, rafe cameron.”
this is the part where they should angrily kiss, rafe thinks. but barry doesn’t kiss him. he just straddles rafe’s hips, pinning him down before closing the distance and sinking his teeth into rafe’s bottom lip.
rafe arches up into it, trying to tangle his fingers in barry’s hair, but barry just swats his hands away. when he pulls back, he runs his thumb over the teeth indents now decorating rafe’s bottom lip.
“i hate you,” rafe pants, staring up at barry, his pupils blown wide. “i’m gonna kill you, barry. i’ll slit your throat while you’re asleep in your shit trailer and you can die in your own filth. and i’ll like it.”
barry moves in again, biting down on rafe’s jugular. this time, he draws blood. it’s staining his teeth when he pulls back.
“not if i kill you first,” barry says, softly, like it’s a sweet promise and not a harsh threat. “in my shit trailer, where you’ll be sleeping, because you gonna come running back, rafe cameron. and you can die in my filth, all marked up by me, so everyone will know who you belonged to when they put yo’ stupid ass in the ground. six feet deep.”
rafe wants to argue, but that’s part of the problem. he wants too much with barry. and he knows he’s right. rafe will come running back, someday, some way, somehow. he will.
when barry climbs off of him, rafe feels like he’s lost a limb. he keeps losing things to barry. and this whole thing between them, it’s a death sentence. at least for one of them.
rafe shouldn’t feel emptied out, hollow and lifeless, when barry pushes open the window he’d come through and crawls back onto the roof.
barry turns back, just for a moment, to flash scarlet-stained teeth at rafe before speaking.
“see you soon, country club.”
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sugarbeepop · 3 years
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People always get stuck repeating all the same basic vampire problems: the morals of drinking blood, the loneliness of immortality, all of which perfectly solve themselves by nature of how being a vampire works by the way.
Protip: you can take blood without killing people just ask the Red Cross, and cool thing about vampire immortality it’s literally fucking contagious if you want it to be
But the thing is being a vampire does come with interesting challenges and complications and nobody ever talks about them!
Let’s start with something simple, eating. I imagine you’ll at least want to blend in sometimes and one part of that will probably be having to eat with people. Think about what it feels like when you eat something you can’t digest, it’s fucking awful and that’s exactly what eating any and all food outside of blood feels like now. Want to eat lunch with some friends without looking weird? Have fun being doubled over in pain for several hours afterward!
Another fun thing people don’t think about, vampires are naturally skilled at hypnosis, and let me tell ya being skilled at hypnosis and spending too much time around particularly suggestible people can have some very interesting side effects! You’ll be chatting away trying to have a normal conversation and next time you look up their eyes are glazed over and they’ve been tranced out for half the conversation. Like glad you’re having a good time but I did actually want your input on that and now I have to repeat it all, and if you trance out again so help me. Ahem, anyway you can see how that would be a problem. Oh and don’t even get me started about accidental suggestions! Like oh my god no that wasn’t a command stop- why are you like this. It wasn’t even a very good snap why is your head on the table.
Oh and blood! Who gives a shit about the morals of drinking blood, if you eat meat it’s like the same thing basically whatever, but the price gouging! Now that’s some properly immoral shit right there. Like hi hello I need this shit to live and I can’t exactly afford to get fully trained in phlebotomy, buy all that medical equipment which I’m pretty sure you have to have tons of for it to be sterile, and just hope no one asks any questions when I not only buy all these things but start looking for volunteers who feel like sharing. I have to go through these things like fuckin caprisuns you can’t be charging hundreds of dollars for just like a pack of blood bags that’s ridiculous.
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg! Seriously guys it’s not hard just stop going straight for the tropes and think about the actual logistics a little more. I mean it’s not like you need direct experience to know these things
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midnights-light · 4 years
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Ladybug and the hound
Chapter 1
Imma be honest I wasn’t expecting 1 person to read my story let alone 48 but life is full of surprises and while that may not seem like a lot of people I was expecting no one to read this so for me it means a lot. Now a few notes.
So I forgot to mention a few things in the last chapter such as Captain’s breed. He is a Malinois Dog breed, second I may use some things from @kelelamentia Dogs are a ladybugs best friend ‘cause I love the idea of the way Ladybug and Captain do the pound it.Now on to the second chapter. Also I did not forget August you’ll just have to read to know what happens with him. I also am terrible at describing things and how people look so imagine them as you please.
Learning about Marinette
Marinette’s POV
After the battle me and captain were just trying to get home so I could help maman and papa in the bakery but instead I run into the people I handed August to while I yelled at Chat. He’s been getting worse and worse each akuma that appears demanding that I go on a date with him and accept that I love him even though I told him that I don’t like him over and over again. I lost my feelings for Adrien when he left me to deal with the class bullying me to make me pay for ‘bullying’ Lila. One good thing that came from the Lila situation is that I learned who my real friends are. Max, Kim, Alix, Chloe, Kagami, Nino, and Luka all stick with me.
Max had his suspicions about Lila’s lies since the beginning but the napkin incident is what made him completely sure that she was lying because one it was a napkin so it couldn’t possibly gouge his eye out, and two is that even if it ‘could’ gouge his eye out HE HAS GLASSES which would protect his eyes. Kim and Nino have been my friends since forever so they know that I hate liars so when I called her a liar they knew that there must be a reason so one day after school they came to my house to ask me why I think she’s a liar. So I pointed out that all of the lies that could be proven wrong with just a simple google search. Alix has known me since we could walk so she knows that while I could hold my own in a fight, I wouldn’t do anything that would harm someone else on purpose (and if I did then I would do everything I could to make sure that they are ok afterwards) no matter how much they deserve it. Kagami and Luka know that I will give up my happiness if it means someone else will be happy like when I gave up on Adrien to let Kagami get with him, but sadly they broke up a month later after Kagami learned that he told me to take the high road in the Lila situation. And Chloe. Chloe is the daughter of the Style Queen and the Mayor of Paris so she has a knack for finding out liars, and after a month or two of me being bullied by the class sans, my friends, she came up to me and apologized for bullying me all those years. I forgave her because I know she can be good she just doesn’t have much experience in people being nice to her but my friends were still a little protective of me for a few weeks till they knew that she could be trusted.
They found out my identity by accident but I am so glad that they found out, especially when Chat or should I say Adrien acts like the world owes him something in exchange for ‘protecting’ Paris. I hadn’t meant to find out his identity yet cause I want to find the true black cat before I take his miraculous away from him. I am a true ladybug, but Adrien isn’t a true black cat but Master Fu needed to get both of them out into battle fast so he couldn’t look for a true black cat so Adrien would have to do, but ever since Lie-la showed up he acts as Chloe had before Lie-la. We have been talking about replacing him but I want to find the true black cat and test them to see if they are worthy and I am going to ask if they want the responsibility cause no one should be thrown headfirst into this kind of stuff like I was.
Where was I? Oh Right! I hadn’t meant to find out his identity but Plagg was getting sick and fed up with his behavior so he came to me one night and asked how long till we find the true black cat. I told him soon and that if we didn’t find them before my birthday (which was on Friday) that I would take the ring from him and asked Plagg to give me a clue as to who he is. The clue was his birthday and I thought of when the birthdays of every male blonde I know that is around my age was and landed on Adrien so I asked if i was right and he nodded then had to leave before he woke up. Back to the people I ran into I see that Damian I think is around my age and he also has a dog, doesn’t hurt that he is pretty handsome too.... WAIT WHAT!? ‘NO NO NO! BAD MARINETTE! YOU JUST MET HIM!
After he’s introduced Damian grabs my hand and place a kiss on the back, said “Nice too meet you Angel.” and I start blushing and internally freaking out like ‘OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG! HE KISSED MY HAND! AND HE CALLED ME ANGEL!’ Then I hear Captain growling at Damian. He looks at me slightly waiting to see if he can shred him apart or not. I quickly say “Sorry Damian, Captain’s a little protective of me and doesn’t like strangers being around me.” I say a little worried that he would be offended but to my surprise he says, “I understand.” then he holds out his hand for Captain to sniff which he does and after he does he still is growling but he doesn’t look ready to rip him to shreds at least. Then we hear snickering behind us and Damian glares at the source of the noise which turned out to be his family... OH RIGHT! I am being so rude right now only focusing on Damian and not paying attention to his family. Then Captain and his dog start playing with each other making us laugh.  Then I notice that August starts trying to say my name, “Mariette, Mariette!” Oh that’s the guy I gave August to... AUGUST!!! I completely forgot to tell them what to do with him till his mom is able to get him. “Oh! Hello to you to August.” I say causing him to laugh and try to hug me which causes Dick to hand him to me, “It’s nice to see you again to. How about we call your mom and get you a snack?” He laughs and I say, “I’ll take that as a yes!” I laugh. I then turn to them and say ,“So shall we start walking to the bakery?” A chorus of Yes is the response so I start talking with Damian while Captain and Titus, I learned was his name, continue to play as we walk. Me and Damian talked while we walked and by the time I noticed our surroundings we were across the street from the bakery and as I was about to say we were there someone called my name and I froze.
Damian’s POV
I was having fun (Yes FUN) with the Angel next to me and as she was about to say something when an amber haired girl with glasses and a girl with sausage like hair called her and they looked angry. Maybe they were her friends though judging by the way she froze probably not... Wait why did she freeze? Just as I was about to ask what’s wrong she suddenly says, “Ok well the bakery is across the street just tell them Marinette sent you and could you take Captain and August in with you? Thanks!” She quickly handed the leash to me and August to Dick and ran off to where the other girls were and pulled them around the corner and Captain was desperately trying to follow her and was pulling hard on the leash.
“So we’re going to see what that was about right?” Grayson asks, “I mean she seemed in a hurry to get to them before they got to her and get them out of sight, so something is off right?” “Well I think only one of us should go instead of all of us. It could be personal though so how about we head into the bakery and wait?” Father asks. “Actually Master Bruce I believe Master Damian should go see what is going on, since they get along quite nicely.” Alfred says with a hint of worry in his voice, and while normally I would try to object I really want to get some time alone with the Angel to talk and ,if the chance shows itself, make her blush some more. So I agree and start walking with Titus and Captain who has gotten more desperate to get to her the closer we got. As I was about to round the corner a voice made me stop in my tracks, “-is for hurting Lila Marislut. You destroyed her homework so she gets to destroy your designs.” I then hear shredding noises and hear her crying and begging them to stop. I try to get myself to move and help but her heart wrenching sobs kept me frozen in place.
As soon as the tearing stops I then hear a loud crack and that gets me to move faster than I thought possible. I round the corner ready to commit a murder or help the Angel, preferably both, and as soon as I do I see a scene that breaks my heart. Marinette is sitting on the ground with a large hand print on her cheek and she is surrounded by torn pages and she is trying and failing to not cry. I then notice that Captain and Titus got loose from my grasp and are chasing the girls away and after a block they come back and try to help cheer Marinette up. Just then she notices me and she starts freaking out, “D-Damian wh-what a-are- you doing the-there?” I get down on my knees and start helping her pick up  the torn papers and say, “We noticed that you looked scared to go to those girls and wanted to make sure that you were ok. Good thing I brought Titus and Captain with me.” That makes her laugh though her voice is a little hoarse. “Are you ready to get inside?” She asks though I don’t know why she’s worried about me she just got slapped and had her designs torn up. “Only if you are but if you need a few minutes I can wait with you.” I reply.
“I’ll be fine,” she says, “I’ve been through worse I-” As soon as she says that I feel my blood run cold and boil at the same time. How bad has she been hurt before and who hurt her? Then I notice that she’s still talking “Sorry you don’t want to hear about my problems.Shall we go in?” I then did something that I had never done before but I have seen Grayson do it to Drake after he had a long difficult day at WE, I hugged her tightly and Titus and Captain lick her face. “Sorry I’m not to sure what to do to help cheer someone up but I have seen my brother do this to help. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” I say then I feel her tightly hug me back but I find that I don’t mind it. “No it’s ok I actually needed a hug. Thanks.” We stay like that for a few minutes until she pulls away and I get a better look at her face and I have never wanted to commit a murder this badly. The place she got slapped is starting to swell and her eyes look like they lost the spark they had when we were talking. “Thank You. Really.” “I’m not the best at comforting someone so-” “No I mean Thank you for coming to check on me. Not many people would do that so thanks.” And in this moment I knew that I would do anything for her and protect her as much as possible. We get up and she takes Captains leash and the papers from me and starts to head to the bakery. As soon as we enter I hear my family happily talking with Marinette’s parents about busy and slow days.It seems that August’s mother has already picked him up so I guess this happens quite a bit but that makes me concerned about how often this happens. How often is Angel in danger of akumas (Whatever those are) harming her? I clear my throat and Grayson is the first to notice us, “Oh hey guys ho-” he then notices Marinettes red puffy eyes and the hand print on her face and his big brother instincts kick in, “What happened!? Are you Ok? Who did this?” Then he’s moved out of the way by Marinette’s Dad, “Marinette are you ok do we need to call Chloe, Luka, and Kagami?”
Marinette doesn’t say anything but nods. He then calls out to her mother, “Sabine can you call Chloe, Luka, and Kagami and see if they can come over?” “Already on it honey.” and not even a minute later the door bursts open and a Blonde girl, a Asian blue haired girl, and a chill looking guy with teal hair tackle Marinette in a hug with the blonde asking if she could sue them, the teal guy asking if she needs him to play her song for her, which breaks my heart a little cause he must be her boyfriend, and the blue haired girl asking, “Can I run them through my blade now Mari-hime?” “No Kagami also I have a few guests with me.” They then seem to notice us and they suddenly look ready to pounce at any second with the blonde doing quick introductions, “Hi I’m Chloe, that’s Kagami,” The girl with blue hair bows a little, “and that’s Luka,” The boy gives a nod with his head, “now I want you to answer truthfully, what do you want with Maribug?” “What?” Asked Todd and Drake at the same time. She let’s out an annoyed huff, “I said, What are you intentions with Marinette. You know are you using her, do you want to be friends with her, or what? And answer truthfully we will know if you lie to us and it won’t end well for you. It doesn’t matter who you are we won’t let you hurt Maribug.” She says with a snarl. I don’t know when or how but somehow Marinette’s parents got behind them and are giving us dangerous looks and Captain is back to growling at us. And Angel’s friends look ready to commit murder if anyone harms her.
The looks they give us makes everyone even father and Alfred take a step back. I had multiple questions running through my head at once. What happened to this beautiful Angel to make her friends so protective of her? Wait beautiful? Where did that come from? And why did my heart skip a beat when she looked at me? And why... I’m in love aren’t I? Well guess the city lives up to it’s nickname. 
Find out how this goes in the next chapter. Also we find out how Marinette and Captain met and how he became Hunter.
So I feel like I need to say a few things just so that they are known
1.I have quite a bit of free time but I can’t always get the motivation to write even though I want to get the next chapter out sooner rather than later
2. I have several parts of the story planned out in my head I’m just not sure what leads up to that point what happens to cause the thing to happen, or what happens after ting happens so I’m just running different scenarios through my head and I can’t make decisions easily so I have all these scenarios happening and I’m not sure which one I want and so most of the time I just come up with one when I start writing so sometimes it’ll make sense and other times probably not.
now I don’t know how many chapters I’ll write so the most I’m going to try for now is fifteen chapters and if I have more ideas then there’ll be more. Let me know what you thought of this chapter. See ya guys next time, Bye!
One last thing I don’t have a set time to chapter updates I just plan to write and get them out to you guys as soon as I can.
tags
#iglowinggemma28  #i-am-ironic
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shini--chan · 4 years
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May I request Allies with an S/O who's a small country rich in some rare spices/gems and their reaction to an enemy country invading them for those resources? (Yandere and S/O are allies/have close political relationship)
I really enjoyed writing this! Thx :)
Yandere Allies
America
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The moment the news floats in, he stills for a moment for a few precious seconds before launching into a fever of planning and hasty communication.
While on a large part Alfred may act like a dope – it means that people severely underestimate him and it is so amusing to see the looks of shock and horror when he does/says something intelligent – he is no wimp when it comes to war.
Believe me when I say he is the last person you’d want to face on the battlefield. The sorry sod that decided to attack you effectively signed their own death sentence.
He is the hero, really Captain America in the way he is the golden boy of the army and ready to swoop in to save his girl. A bright and glorious defender of liberty indeed. However, he very much forgets that he is the anti-hero of his own story.
The end justifies the means, and if the end means have you happily in your arms, then he’ll rain hell fire upon his foes and call it poetic justice later. You’ll do best to remember that, especially when he starts worming his way in and ensnaring you tighter with kind words and half-genuine, half-pretended compassion. All soft power to drive you in his arms and trap you there. Before you know it, he’ll have you thoroughly Americanized and depended on him.
Canada
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Yes, Matthew is kind and compassionate and doesn’t like to fight…
…that doesn’t mean he extends that to his enemies and that doesn’t mean he isn’t good at it. The nation that dared attack his lover isn’t going to have an easy time at it.
Of course, Canada is unbelievably patient and will try any other route to secure peace. He’ll negotiate, he’ll point to chartas and treaties and the disadvantages of invading you. And then, when there is no avail, he’ll proceed to give his enemy nightmares.
If you really think that Canada is a wuss that can’t even hold a knife, then go ahead and ask Francis’, heck, even Ludwig. They both can attest that Matthew isn’t just a sweet little wall flower.
Suddenly, the jokes of him being invisible aren’t so funny anymore – especially not in a war zone.
After he has sent his enemy packing, there is nothing that is going to prevent him making the ties between you two even closer. The treaties he’ll draw up will have only the tinest loopholes for you to wriggle to freedom.
China
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So, his dear political ally is under attack? By that nation, you say?
Yao will sigh heavily upon hearing the news and demand that the reports be handed over to him. Slowly, as he processed the words, his rage would grow, only disguised by a practised poker face. He’d only unleash his emotions in a controlled environment or directly at the enemy in an onslaught of cutting remarks.
Yao is old, but old doesn’t mean he has become tired of the savoury taste of ambition and victory. If there are a few things that age has taught him, it would be patience and how to obliterate his enemy. How would said enemy feel if everything they held dear would start to crumble to ash.
China will start to throw his weight around and place sanctions or also demand that debts be repaid. Should that not work, or the offender get more desperate to get their hands on your resources, China would start to flex his muscles – a few troops are really nothing compared to what he could actually do, right?
There are a few things in this world that nobody wants to rouse; one of them would be the anger of the Great Red Dragon.
Afterwards, he would ensure that you are fine – strengthen the trade between you. Maybe buy up a few of your resources at that and let a few of his companies settle there. That wouldn’t be a problem, or would it? 
England
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The moment England catches wind of the invasion, he is transformed into a seething mess. That switches to icy resignation, the sort that is threaded with rage and promises damnation and then to a melodramatic mess. If the big-shots aren’t already convinced to come to your aid in fear of losing a very important ally, they will do it for the sake of calming the personification down – Arthur is just that bad.
Really, the gall that snotty nosed, twitches weasel of an invader had to attempt to take away what is rightfully Arthur’s. They were just baby steps into a grand project – that of him wooing you, utter and completely so that you would be totally captivated – and then that wench had to ruin half of that hard work. You’re distressed and paranoid – something England can’t tolerate.
But Arthur has always been an opportunist, if there has been any.
Of course, Arthur is a gentleman but that is also just one facet of him. Very clearly he remembers how it was to be an empire and the euphoria of crushing his opponents to ash and dust. So why not take the chance to relive the good old day?
The enemy will have made a mistake in assuming that England had lost his vicious bite.
After repelling the aggressors he’ll be sure to keep some soldiers stationed.
You don’t like it? Oh, please darling, it is for your own good! What is your problem with his officials taking over the resources and conduct the operations? Aren’t you still ravaged by war? You need all the help you can get. (Not that this would end after you have recovered. Arthur is too greedy and possessive for that)
France
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That usually so open face hardens. He doesn’t like the idea of you being invaded and filched away from him very unappealing.
Now, first things first. France knows that he isn’t the best when it comes to war, the years have taught him that bitter lesson. And to a former empire like him, that is extremely bitter.
That doesn’t stop him from trying – the notion of you not being close to him drives him to the edge of insanity and he has to resist the urge to carelessly tear his hair out. He is probably burning through a few cigarettes to calm himself down while he goes over the plans with his generals.
He’ll send you a lot of relief in form of men, rations, and medical supplies. On top of that, he’ll help you establish an active and large resistance. It just happens that Francis is best at undercover operations.
He’ll be there for you when nobody else, your anchor in the storm. So that afterwards, he can make it seem like your choice to isolate yourself from all but him.     
Russia
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War is something that has always been a part of his life, so he’ll find to very poetic to go to war for his desired. He won’t let it end in a tragedy this time.
At first, it won’t be a full-scale war from his side since the other nations still fear him and are therefore out for his blood. Ivan doesn’t immediately what to give them an excuse to go after him, even if he is spilling blood for your sake.
So, in the beginning, he’ll send arms and men – field doctors, strategists and also a few bodyguards for you. Russia might even join them, to ensure you stay safe under his watchful eye. With his rather flippant demeanour in the face of hardship, you could even need him desperately.
On top of that, he wants to gouge your capabilities and test your mettle on the one or the other occasion – he has to know the strengths and weaknesses of his dearest, their vices and virtues .
If the enemy doesn’t relent, he’ll send a fully armed battalion, to remind you of his love…
Back to business. Keep in mind that this nation is very desensitised to violence and he really knows how to hold a grudged. He has a long memory and can’t be tricked easily. You might want to step in before the battle becomes a slaughter and even then, you’ll have to be very careful, least he interprets your actions and words as betrayal.
Afterwards, once it is just you and him and your people, be careful, for everybody’s sakes. He’ll want to keep a tight hold on you and if you want to worm yourself out, you’ll have to be extremely cautious and appeal to his emotions. And it is even questionable if that will work.
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goodomensblog · 4 years
Text
Afterward - Part 12
A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic
Here’s how it works:
I’ll write a scene.
At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.
Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.
Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11
(Note: I am SO EXCITED to resume this choose your own adventure fic with all of you. Whether you’ve stuck around or are new, I’m happy that you’re along for the ride :) )
(#4 won by a LANDSLIDE. I’m excited to finally bring y’all the next part!)
Afterward - - - Part 12
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Michael halts, her frigid glare raking up and down Crowley’s mimicked form.
“Who,” Michael asks, voice sharp and cruel as broken glass, “are you?”
In Heaven, time doesn’t, in the strictest sense, exist. So it is not entirely hyperbole to say the ensuing silence seemed to last an eternity.
Crowley breaks it - with a prim, delicate clearing of the throat.
“Who,” he asks, mimicking Michael’s high, tight voice, “are you?”
Heads swivel from Crowley-who-looks-like-Michael, to the real Michael, and then back to Crowley again.
Michael is gaping, perfectly plucked brows digging down in furious indignation. “Are you two seriously going to stand there while this - this interloper mocks me?”
Crowley’s mouth is open, lips automatically moving to copy Michael’s scowl. His brain hasn’t had a chance to offer it’s two cents, but accustomed to crisis situations of this sort, his mouth is forging on ahead.
“Are you two seriously going to stand there while this interloper mocks me?” Crowley asks, savagely jabbing a manicured nail at the real Michael.
“Stop that right now,” Michael commands, nostrils flaring.
“Stop that right now!”
“I swear, if you don’t-”
“I swear, if you don’t-”
“How dare you-”
“How dare you???”
“Enough!” Uriel shouts, palms held aloft. From their eyes, traces of pure white light fades. Standing tall, the angel looks imperiously between the two Michaels, and then to Gabriel. “Gabriel. What is going on?”
All eyes shift to the archangel.
Gabriel’s mouth opens and closes. Stiff, and looking distinctly uncomfortable, he looks from Crowley, to Michael, and then to Uriel.
Crowley’s heart is beating so furiously it’s nearly a hum in his chest - and he’s honestly too stressed to properly recall if hearts are even supposed to do that. Slowly, he shifts his weight, preparing to run - or fight.
Coughing, Gabriel awkwardly clears his throat. Beneath the white, sterile hallway lights, his forehead glistens.
“So,” Gabriel begins, violet gaze flickering rapidly between Uriel and the two Michaels. “Here’s the thing-”
Before he can finish, the hallway goes black.
It only lasts a moment, but when the lights return, flickering and flashing, they bathe the hall in an eerie half light.
The floor beneath them lurches.
They all feel It at once.
For Crowley, it feels a bit like falling - that is, if falling also involved placing one’s head in a vice while simultaneously chugging nitric acid. Doubling over, he braces his hands on his knees. Tongue curling against the roof of his mouth, he sucks in air through his teeth. It tastes like ruin.
The angels are doubled over as well. Michael is hunched, knee braced against the floor. Uriel, golden eyes flickering, slumps against a wall. And like Crowley, Gabriel has braced his hands on his knees. Eyes wide, he heaves shallow, shivering breaths.
A surge of something rolls through the hall before any of them have had a chance to recover. And for a moment, it’s the falling, head squeezing, throat burning feeling all over again.
Four heads turn as one, whipping to face the end of the hall.
“Something’s here,” Michael whispers, her nails gouging white marble.
“Something that shouldn’t be,” Uriel says, shaking.
The screaming starts without warning.
It’s pure, piercing - angelic; sounds of terror, but also the razor sharp notes of angelic war cries.
Michael is on her feet in moments, and Uriel stumbles up after her. They take the hallway at a run, wings snapping into existence.
Gabriel, eyes ablaze and wings unfurling, rises -
Michael’s form is fading, melting off Crowley’s skin. Reaching out with his own hand, Crowley snatches Gabriel’s sleeve.
The archangel whips around.
“If you want to keep that hand, demon, you’ll release me. Now.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Heaven is under attack - from something strange, terrible, and utterly unknown. Michael and Uriel rush to aid the angels fighting this mystery enemy. Gabriel, despite Beelzebub’s desperate state (and the time running out to get the dying demon Hellfire), seems intent on following after Michael and Uriel. Crowley will…
Let Gabriel go. Crowley can find the Hellfire without him. Surely.
Try to reason with Gabriel. Crowley will remind Gabriel that Beelzebub is DYING (and surely the turmoil in Heaven and Hell must be connected in some way?). They need to know what Beelzebub knows now more than ever.
Let Gabriel go - and give up on finding the Hellfire (sorry Beelzebub). Something bad has broken into Heaven, and Crowley needs to get back to Aziraphale to make sure he’s safe.
Please comment or reblog to vote! :)
Part 13
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         she never meant for the brief walk home to last so long. after all, how many times has she walked from home to library and back again? how many places had she committed to memory on the path, knowing when the shadows aren’t quite right? not that she did anything about it. not that she could have ever guessed what that meant.
         the house had never been there, and annette knew it. she didn’t realize she’d been walking in its lawn until the gate to the yard slammed and locked behind her. i must be dreaming, she thought. every living thing in the front yard was dead and decayed, crunching under her worn sneakers. she turned to the road, watching as cars passed by. no one seemed too concerned about the suddenly derelict house in a previously empty lot. perhaps she shouldn’t have been, either. maybe her memory was failing her, even though she would remember this. facing the house again, its dusty windowpane eyes stared her down. it was time to go back, the icy pull in her ribcage insisted. go back home, stay away, take detours. but the rest of her body pulled itself forward, toward the door. a dark wood, clean as new, with a silvery knocker, too ornate for this side of town. she stares at the door. without a thought, thin fingers wrap around the knocker, intending to knock three times. after the first, the door swings open, and she feels herself ushered inside, the icy feeling in her lungs getting colder.
         the interior looked untouched by the time that had beaten the outside - the cozy grandeur elicited a gasp from the small brunette girl, which was greeted with an eerily warm female voice. “it really is beautiful, isn’t it?”
         annette turned, hazel eyes landing on a tall blonde woman standing in a hall. this was wrong. this woman wasn’t alive; she was too sweet to someone just walking into her house. the surprise on annette’s face must have been clear, as the blonde offered a warmer laugh. “don’t worry, dear. i had the same reaction when i first saw it, i’ll admit. the woodwork, the walls … it always feels like home. even to strangers.” her teacup, decorated with little violets, clattered against its matching saucer as she approached, causing annette to take steps back toward the door. “oh, don’t go - here, allow me to introduce myself. i’m cassandra, cassandra james. my friends call me cassie. the tea is still warm, would you like some?” annette didn’t mean to offend by shaking her head, but that was the apparent result. “no? hm. that’s all right, no harm done. after all, that means more for me, doesn’t it?” somehow, at the blonde’s gesture, they both began walking, annette warily behind cassie, who seemed something akin to a magnet.
         they arrived in the kitchen, and somehow annette found herself seated across from the woman, a matching teacup in front of her. she never agreed to tea. it didn’t smell right, and annette kept her hands clasped tightly in her lap. the kitchen looked slightly more as it ought to, though the table was clean. the walls seemed cracked and the floors were dusty, the floorboards creaky. cassie’s smile remained closed, though she was doing her best to make the younger feel welcomed in this impossible house. “those are some terribly large glasses, hm, dear? a little dusty, too - here.” she removed the glasses in one swift movement, causing annette’s hazel eyes to go wide. of course nothing was clear any more, but typically glasses did not brighten. everything was darker now, and the warmth that radiated from the house faded. it was all cold. annette could feel the icy feeling in her chest creep up the back of her neck. “perhaps this will be better, annette.” colder.
          “i-i-i n-nev-ver -- i-i nev-ver t-t-tol-ld y-you m-m-my n-name.”
          that causes cassie’s smile to widen, exposing stony teeth and a broken wire -- the kind used to wire a corpse’s jaw shut. the rest of her became older, more pointed, even greyer. she grew darker and colder just like the house, and annette was frozen in her seat. “oh, honey, didn’t you? i thought you had - ah, silly cassie. either way, drink your tea. please.” the teacup had become dirty and cracked, a too-dark liquid in it. annette’s breath grew shallow and quickened, but she wished she wasn’t so quick to panic. if she had kept calm, she could have just gone home. “i’ll be quite hurt if you don’t, annette.” it sounded like her mother’s words in another’s mouth. her own name felt like ice water, the consonants crisp and nearly pointed. cassie’s hollow, smokey eyes searched her guest’s face coldly, the icy smile unwavering. “well, you’ll have time. come then, i’d like to show you the house.” the voice had started ringing in annette’s head -- house, house, house, house.
           annette began shaking her head, frozen in place. “n-no, m-m-miss, i-i sh-should b-be g-g-going, i --” her stammered protests were interrupted by cassie pulling her up with a sharp vice-grip around her upper arm, nails digging into flesh, before the hold adjusted to the uncertain arm-in-arm that gave only the illusion of the freedom to leave. before the ghost began walking, her other hand replaced the talons in annette’s arm. she was led out of the kitchen, back into the entrance. the warmth of before was gone, the sunlight that was barely peeking through dusty glass and warped wood even being iced down. the front door was barred from the inside, and had been that way for some time, the wood rotted and growing fungus. the temperature dropped further, inciting shivers in the medium. cassie continued to guide her along, into a darker hallway full of closed doors. annette’s voice was thin, near tears, “m-m-miss-s, p-p-pleas-se --”
            cassie’s grip tightened angrily, turning annette flat against the wall with a strength it didn’t seem like she would be allowed to have. hazel eyes close, praying this is some horrible nightmare that she will wake up from. the tarnished silver on the walls clattered with the impact of her body; the doors sounded in accord with a motionless slam. annette felt herself shrinking beneath the blonde woman, who was growing taller and paler and colder by the second. “i said i would like to show you the house. though i imagine --” her long black fingernails dug harshly into the skin around annette’s jaw, almost surely drawing blood. with a gasp, annette’s eyes open. she is awake. pointed, stony smile widens -- “you’ll be well acquainted with it soon enough.” annette felt herself sink into the wall, her breathing becoming even more panicked. this only dug the fingernails deeper, encouraged by an almost helpless squeak. annette reached her feet down, trying to find the ground, feet no longer feeling the floor so soundly. “oh, no. no, no, no -- this won’t do, will it?” cassie’s grip never wavered or loosened, though her furious expression softened into something similar to sympathy. closer to bemused pity. the ice never melted. in fact, the grip tightened on her face, causing annette’s eyes to water. 
           “oh, poor dear. you are so small, aren’t you? why, i could just …”
           cassie’s free hand wrapped the whole way around annette’s wrist, smokey eyes turning their focus there. her grasp tightened, squeezing the joint harshly, before yanking annette’s arm (and thus, annette) away from the wall, ignoring the living girl tumbling over her own feet, only having three limbs with which to catch herself. “now, dear, do get up. there is so much of the house to see!” upon being forceded back onto her feet, annette couldn’t help using her available hand to grasp at her neck, trying to breathe, the panic welling up like fingerprints.
            time wasn’t right. it never is in these sorts of things, of course, but it was particularly not right in that house. being dragged down the hall took hours, though it should only have been moments. sounds swirled in her hair, in her head, all over, echoes of memories that were not her own, that rattled her skull, and cassie very well may have been harming her further. annette’s mind was far from present, the truths of this place careening her through each floorboard. cassie killed her husband. cassie killed her children. cassie killed every other person who hid in their bedrooms in the house. she confessed as much. after all, the house hadn’t really been there in fifty years, and hadn’t been occupied in fifty before that. what was the harm? the harm, it seemed, had pent up and was soaking into the one living thing on the property. the house’s walls blurred, past and present leaking together into annette’s eyes and ears, the solid world nearly vanishing.
             moments of clarity were few and far between - only when cassie hit or swiped at her, a sharp and too-gravelly “are you listening, girl? or are you trying to die, just like everyone else?” ringing clearly through the warped wooden frame of the house. it caused all her senses to snap vividly into reality, and that very reality sent her flying into misty memories again. the blood drawn from her cheeks and mouth was dried and likely stained on the sweater she’d worn, she’d never wear again, and the dust and grime of age and death had coated half of it; the smell will never come out. afterward, annette would only recall the hands of the other spirits furiously grabbing at her in her nightmares. all the hands were rough, some small and some withering, some sharp and some too tough for benevolence, they pulled her back to reality more than once. why? why would the hands of these fellow victims want her dead? why won’t they help? each hand drew a panicked scream from her, till one covered her mouth, or accidentally half-gouged her gums, or otherwise kept her quiet.
              the last time -- she would recall this one clearly as the last, though she never knew just how long she had been there. she would always remember it. she would wake up in a blind panic for years, her mind pulling her back into the rotted wood and dusty furniture. cassie flew into a final fit of rage at annette, who managed out one pitiful “please,” digging nails into her shoulders and swiping once at her face, screaming furiously about disrespect and no longer permitting this insolence. none of the other screaming was coherent, though she continued to shriek as she took annette by her ankles and dragged her halfway up a flight of stairs, planning to travel the other half. the plan was clear: she was going to throw the medium down the stairs. she was going to add someone to the collection. annette tried frantically to use her thin, shaking fingers to hold onto something, only receiving splinters and ripped fingertips. the dust that she kept inhaling in shallow gasps tore at her lungs, which still felt frozen solid. her throat was too raw to scream, but the unfeeling hands of her fellow victims heard her anyhow. countless hands, stronger than ever before, finally understanding enough, took hold of her (likely sprained) wrists and arms, grabbed her middle just a little too tight, and then took hold of cassie’s ankles and pulled her down, causing her to scream anew, kicking and stomping at the hands. “enough! enough! i am the woman of the house, i demand you all let me go!” the sharp eagle’s grip on annette’s ankle disappeared, her shoe colliding with the floor with a dull thud. cassie’s screaming melted away, though she isn’t sure if that was really happening or if she simply started fading again.
              facedown into the old and moth-eaten carpet, the medium cried silently, afraid to move. she was hyper-aware of the spectral hands letting go, leaving finger-shaped bruises in their place. the stairs flattened into solid earth, into grass. it smelled like dirt. her mouth tasted like blood. the tears on her face stung each crescent shaped gash on her face. she could still feel every cut, every bruise, and the sharp, thudding pulse in her wrists. the sun was warm again, but different. it was not afraid to touch her, like it had been. the grass she was laying in was wet -- it hadn’t rained, had it? she couldn’t move. she was afraid to look and see this as another illusion, another mental escape. everything hurt, so sharply - her breath remained shallow, but the freezing in her chest thawed. slowly, her shredded fingers began to feel the grass. it was damp, sharp in the dull way that grass is sharp. she felt clover. annette wasn’t sure it was real, but the sun was so warm. slowly, painfully, but surely, she rolled herself over, the sunlight shining in her tears. she closed her eyes again, breath deepening as much as it could. that was the sun, all right. she could hear the cars, passing by without a second thought, just like always. the house was never there, except that it was. she had its wood lodged into her hands. the sore cuts in her mouth, on her face, every injury confirmed it had been. but could she get herself home? her breath was still hollow, releasing more than it took. she knew the route. but could she trust it? she could walk through her door and enter that other house again. she could still be there.
              she must have been laying there for some time. time was moving normally again, minutes were minutes and seconds were seconds, but her head still swam in that house. no more, she thought. i have to go home. slowly, and with no shortage of painful gasps, she used her elbows to push herself to a seated position. her vision went spotty, cassie’s graveyard teeth and the funeral home wire floating in front of her once more. it cleared. another slow and painful lift, and she was on her feet. there was no gate in front of the lot. there never had been, the fence was barely holding itself together. she had been in trouble the moment she found herself on the other side of the fence. each step was staggering, and she limped her way back home, jumping and wincing at every passing car.
             she needed to know how long she had vanished for. it could have been hours; it could have been months. time is the hardest part with all of this, she knew that. time will take you and spin you and set you down just off from where you started, but have aged you by years.
              she noted the easter-themed flag across the way. april. it had been too long; she’d missed all of march. probably her mother’s birthday. standing on her own doorstep, she winced as she reached for the spare key. she unlocked the door and stepped inside, half-expecting either the rotted house or her mother’s stern shouts. it was clean. it was neither warm nor cold. her mother was not home. though she knew she would catch the devil later, she could only carry herself to the couch before collapsing on it, swiftly falling asleep.
               she would clean the couch later. she would tend her wounds later. a dreamless sleep was not too much of a luxury, was it? surely the james family would let her alone just long enough. surely, they were still dealing with the matriarch. she knew that upon waking, she would have to deal with hers. the very normal, very human dread of an angry mother was the last thing to cross her before she fell asleep, marking the couch with a dirt and blood impression of herself.
such a shame, that it would be the last dreamless sleep for some time to come.
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leelysian · 3 years
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Observe
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genre: angst with fluff ending, one shot
pairing: female reader x stranger!Jisung
word count: 1068 words
context: You were out late at night when you were being followed and so a kind stranger helped you out.
warnings: mentions of stalking and paranoia
A/N: Inspired by this. Please give it a read. It's important. Be careful and really observant when you're outside.
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You groaned tiredly, the weariness settling into your bones. All you wanted to do was slump into your bed and sleep like the dead. Juggling college and a part time job wasn't as easy as depicted in books or movies. You were particularly feeling the tiredness tonight as you covered an extra shift for your absent coworker, the extra pay was too good to pass up.
It was night time. Your stomach was grumbling, head pounding so you pulled your hair out of its tight bun and massaged your scalp at the base of your skull with your fingertips to alleviate the dull ache. Thankfully your other work mates helped speed things up beforehand, all you had to do was check things and lock up before leaving.
The street where your work place was located still had people milling about, it wasn't very late after all. You hitched your book bag further up your shoulder, people watching as you walked. You saw a little girl and presumably her father sitting at one of the outdoor tables outside a convenience store with ice cream.  People watching took your mind off your hectic life for just a short while. It wasn't observation, just looking. 
You reached at the bus stop, so you plugged your earphones while you waited for the 9:40 bus to arrive. The bus arrived, you took a seat at the back. As the bus started to drive, the colours from outside whizzed by, you started to mentally plan out your week according to chores, work and studies. The brainstorming ended when you arrived at your stop so you quickly got off to start walking to your street. You saw three guys on the opposite side of the road, mucking around as you got off the bus stop but you kept walking.
You were playing a slow and soft playlist on shuffle as you walked, not wanting to walk too fast because your feet hurt. The streetlight at the mouth of the road was broken so it was quite dark. You heaved a deep breath and slowly exhaled because it felt creepy. Maybe you should start observing your surroundings more instead of simply looking because with the earphones plugged into your ears, you didn’t notice three shady guys following you from a distance. 
A few moments of walking and you felt yourself being watched, you looked around to see nothing out of the ordinary, you looked back to see nothing either. You kept walking but this time quicker because you still felt apprehensive. You took out your phone, shut off the music, quickly putting the emergency helpline typed on your keypad before pocketing your phone. After doing this, you heard footsteps behind you. You looked for an open store or any building you could enter to hide out in. Your ears were straining to gouge how many people were behind you and you guessed four. You started to panic, your breathing getting laboured, cold sweats breaking out.
“Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been? What are you doing so late out here.” suddenly, a boy seemingly your age said a bit loudly as he wound his arm around your shoulders. “Stay cool, there’s three guys who have been following you. Talk and steer me to where you’re going.” he whispered in your ear as he forced you to walk faster. “Oh yeah. I’ve been busy with college and I just finished an extra shift at work. Gosh I’m so tired. What about you?” you said loud enough for the goons to hear you. 
You two actually ended up talking a lot, he helped lessen your anxiety and you reached your street. He discretely looked back to see the guys were gone. “They’re gone.” he confirmed and you released a shaky breath. Your eyes watered, you almost broke down thinking what could’ve happened if this kind stranger wasn’t there. 
“Hey hey hey, look at me. It’s okay. You’re okay. Come on take deep breaths with me. My name is Jisung.” He deeply inhaled and slowly exhaled while rubbing the tops of your shoulders, you followed his motions. You were calm after a few minutes of breathing before you crashed into his arms. “Oof-” he felt the air knock out of him from the suddenness, before he tightly wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “You’re fine. Stop thinking about it. I want you to go home, take a hot shower and just sleep. Maybe drink some tea or warm milk before going to bed. Okay?” he lectured and you nodded with your head still buried in his chest. 
The adrenaline slowly wore off and you felt like you aged a whole year in the last 15 minutes. His hug felt really warm and safe, weirdly enough, you didn’t want to leave but your grumbling stomach ruined the moment. “Wait. What moment? Shut up y/n.” you thought to yourself. Jisung chuckled, “I suppose you should maybe eat something first.” You were embarrassed. He was really nice and thoughtful and...really cute. Super cute. “I don’t know how I could ever thank you. Thank you so much and uh...I’m sorry for um, having a breakdown on top of you. I mean-” you blabbered. “Hey no worries, I noticed them following you from my apartment window. At first I thought it was nothing but I couldn’t shake the doubt so I ended up approaching you. Better safe than sorry. It’s really late, you should go in and eat. You’ll get indigestion or something.” he said and you thanked him again before turning towards your apartment building. 
You were stalling and you hesitantly turned around. “I’m so dumb, sorry. My name is y/n. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re really nice. Do you wanna be friends?” you blurted. Jisung seemed a little shocked but later, he smiled bright, “I’d love that. Gimme your number. If you ever come home at this late time, text me, I’ll accompany you home if I’m around. Don’t hesitate.” 
You two exchanged numbers, you entered your home with the promise of being careful. Afterwards, if you took the night shift, he walked you home from the bus stop to your apartment. You two texted a lot in the following days, when one day he asked you out to a movie date. 
You made many observations about him from the ensuing dates, it was good practice.
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no tenderness director's commentary, requested by @girlkingsam. under a cut for all the warnings that were on the fic itself (violence and discussion of rape mostly). go wild y'all
It starts with a couple beers in the bunker. Dean and Cas have already gone to bed, Rowena is almost certainly lurking somewhere among the artifacts, and Jack has been put down for the night.
Gabriel and Sam are left in the library, halfheartedly thumbing through research that isn’t going anywhere. Certainly it can wait until the morning.
*waves hand* There’s a Plot going on somewhere in the background. Don’t think too hard about it.
Gabriel looks up and catches her eye.
“Look, Sam, in the Cage—”
She stops him with a wince and a shake of her head.
“Just, don’t.”
He nods.
A few more minutes pass before Sam slowly closes the book and leans back, meeting his eyes.
“So.” She feels her heart racing. Even after everything, it still feels like such a sin, like this is what will bring the divine fire. “You got any plans for the rest of the evening?”
This is integrated into teen mom AU so like this version of Sam very much did not have sex until marriage. And then all of the events of Supernatural happened and turns out maybe that one wasn’t such a big deal after all but the gut feeling is totally still there.
Gabriel looks confused for a second but then smiles slowly, leaning forward. “I can think of a couple options.”
I had in my outline notes: Gabriel tries to bring up Lucifer and Sam distracts him with sex. That is very much the dynamic that is going on here.
She swallows the instinctive rush of fear and takes another swig of beer. Keeps her voice steady, calm and husky.
“Why don’t we take this to my room, then.”
The fear is one of the little phrases I’m quite happy with in terms of the context above. First of all, I think Sam is still afraid of sex full stop. But also Gabriel is an archangel and Lucifer’s brother. This should actually be a scary situation for her even if she’s initiating it.
She stands up and Gabriel follows the motion. Leads her down the hall with a hand on her back.
When they reach her room, Gabriel spins her lightly and backs her into the bedroom, kicks the door shut behind him. She pushes him back against the door, kissing him for the first time. She has to crane her neck down to reach him, but it’s remarkably human. No spark of grace in her mouth, just flesh and spit. She runs her tongue against his bottom lip, thinking of the stitches that were there not too long ago.
She might be a woman but she’s still taller than Gabriel. Nonnegotiable. Also whenever she makes an observation about Gabriel there’s an unspoken comparison, of course.
Gabriel grabs her thigh and uses the leverage to pin her against the door instead, dipping his head to bite at her neck. She hisses, lets her head fall back. With hands on her hips and waist, he turns her around to face the door, mouthing at her shoulder as his hands dig in almost painfully at her hips. She braces herself against the door and leans into his touch, seeking the sensation. An idea forms. A way to make sure they’re truly alone.
It was also important to me that she’s not the only one bringing any violence whatsoever into the bedroom, even if she takes his love bite and immediately raises him murder.
“Kill me.”
“I—what?” His hands still.
“Not permanently. I just want to make sure that I’m out, you know. That he won’t bring me back, that he’s not watching.”
This of course is a moment from one of the posts that inspired this all. “oh sam asks gabe to kill him and then bring him back. just to test it out and see if lucifer will let him die or is secretly out there waiting to drag him back to life”
“And you want me to bring you back instead.”
“Well, yeah, that’s the point.” She turns her head, looking back at him. “Five minutes. You can do whatever you want in the meantime.” She presses herself back against him to communicate the point.
Gabe laughs. “I’m not a necrophiliac.”
“You sound so certain. So you’ve tried it, then?”
“You’ve been alive as long as I have, you’ve tried a lot of things.” He looks at her. “I saw the first death, you know.”
“And you’ll see mine, too.” Gabriel’s hands have loosened, so she turns around in his grip to face him. She guides Gabriel’s hand to her neck, leans into it. “Do it.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he wraps both hands around her neck anyway.
There was a choice between regular smiting and an uncomfortably sexual death, but the latter seemed necessary given that this is all literally happening in the middle of a hookup.
It’s relatively quick and easy, as easy as death can be. Sam’s been choked out before—he’s definitely taking away some of the pain, the fear and panic. There’s only so much that he can do, though. She tells herself not to fight it, but that’s easier said than done, and she’s gouging at his arms before she goes limp.
When she comes to, she’s laid out on the bed. She gasps involuntarily, clawing her way upright. Where is—right. Okay. Here she is.
Gabe is watching her with tight eyes. She composes herself and smiles wolfishly.
There was the question of how into any of this Gabe would actually be, versus like weirded out and confused. I was expecting more of the former going into this, but it wasn’t happening that way. Because he’s pathetic and cowardly but he’s not actually sadistic per se. So he’s not going to stop this especially if he thinks this is what Sam needs but like, it’s not where he would have gone with it.
“So it worked. We’re really alone then, no hidden cameras. You gonna join me?” She pats the bed next to her.
He walks over and sits on the bed between her legs, tearing off his shirt. She runs her hand up his torso, feeling the heat of the skin. He leans over her, pushing her back down onto the bed. She goes easily, sighing.
He slides a hand up her shirt and she presses into it, raising her leg alongside his torso.
“Come on, I know you got more than that.”
He snaps his fingers and silk ties appear in his hands. She reaches out to touch them.
“No, rope instead.”
The silk changes to heavy fraying rope. He looks at her uncertainly.
Because like, Gabe actively avoids pain and discomfort, that’s his whole thing. But because of the whole situation, Sam has to be the one stepping on the gas.
“Isn’t this going to hurt?”
She stares at him like he’s an idiot. “Well, yes, that’s sort of the point.”
He looks at her for a second. She unbuttons her shirt, slides it off her shoulders, and he shrugs. The ropes appear at her wrists, binding them tightly above her head.
LOL I definitely forgot a sentence here. I’ll fix that late but the context I’m missing is that he tied her hands before taking off her bra.
“You’re an angel, just fucking cut it off. We’ll deal with it later.”
A snap and a knife appears in his hands. He cuts the bra loose, nicking her in the process. Blood wells up in the center of her chest. He dips his head and licks it up, then moves to lick at her nipple.
Sam laughs, wriggling under the movement.
“Not sexy, man, I just stopped breastfeeding like 3 months ago. Nipples are a no go right now.”
Gabe laughs, sits back.
“The tradeoffs of getting a hot MILF in your bed, I guess.”
Oh I do not like the word MILF actually like it’s so porny. Like older ladies are hot we don’t need to be weird about it. But Gabe is a creepy porn man so I had to have him say it. Also I was not planning on making this have like, a postpartum moment. But he was licking her nipples and it just didn’t seem right to let that go without saying something.
He moves down her stomach instead, flicking open her jeans.
This is the exact moment where I almost gave up. Keep your jeans on!!! And that is why we get our first timeskip over the action.
After he eats her out he releases the restraints. The ligature marks are red along her wrists, and he runs his fingers along them.
She kisses him again, tasting the salt and acid of herself in his mouth. He palms at her breast and she moans into his mouth. He returns in kind. She climbs entirely out of her jeans and underwear, and he unbuttons his own.
Oh this is super unclear huh. The implication is that her jeans/underwear were pushed down for easy access and then she removes them entirely afterwards. I’ll go back and edit that later.
She pushes him down, holding him down by the throat, and straddles his waist. He removes his pants eagerly.
“We don’t need a condom, right? You’ve got that under control?”
“I’ve had a vasectomy, both literal and metaphysical. And angels can’t get syphilis. We’re good.”
I just thought that was funny. Also condoms aren’t sexy but she’s not reckless enough to just not mention it at all.
She nods, and takes him into her hand. He bucks up into the touch, and she grins. She eases him inside of her, gasping at the sensation before she starts moving.
A few thrusts later and Gabe takes control again, wrapping hands around her waist and knocking her back on the bed.
He flips her over, twisting her arm behind her back. It pops loose from the socket with a sickening noise and she screams, more from the shock than anything.
Another part from the posts! It was a little bit of a challenge to integrate this one in, but it had to happen during the act itself. I’m not entirely sure that the escalation is earned, but Gabe was having a harder time really getting into the violence than I had anticipated so this was a necessary way of forcing his hand. Plus you know the Winchesters have had every joint dislocated in their time so it’s not too much of a stretch that this could accidentally happen.
Gabriel is immediately off of her, putting his hand on her shoulder, ready to heal. She shrugs him off. The motion sends sharp pains all down her arm and collarbone.
“Not yet,” she pants. “Not until we’re finished.”
“As in…”
“Happy ending and all.”
She shoves back with the captive shoulder, shakes him easily. Pushes him back onto the bed, climbs back on top to straddle him.
“You soundproofed this room, right? We can be as loud as we want without Dean barging in?”
He strokes her hips, looking up at her.
“I mean, yeah, but that wasn’t exactly the type of noises I had in mind.”
She shrugs. There’s something like concern in his eyes. It pisses her off. He doesn’t have the right to pity her.
Another one of my favorite little moments. This sentiment is why this encounter is even happening at all!
“You can’t tell me you’ve never experimented.”
There’s a pause, then--
“What did he do to you?”
One thing I really enjoyed about writing this is that Lucifer’s name is never mentioned but any time any of them say “he” they both know exactly who they’re talking about, no context needed.
She rolls her hips. Gabriel moans at the movement.
“What do you think? I’m sure you were imagining it, after you faked your death again. What do you think he did to me? Tell me.”
Gabriel’s voice is thin.
“He tortured you, didn’t he. I saw what he did with the woman, the demon. The first one, Lilith. How he made her.”
“And what did he do to her?” Sam’s breath is coming harder now.
I’m so sorry for making this conversation happen literally between like pants and moans, like genuinely sorry, but it’s what the scene demanded.
“He turned her inside out.” Gabriel pants. “That was his favorite. He would cut into her skin and pull it off.”
A classy amount of flaying!!!
Sam taps her sternum, where a speck of blood still remains. “This is where it would start, the vivisection. He would peel my skin off, or crack my ribs and then have me eat my own heart. He would put his hands inside of me, inside of my ribcage, trace the sigils that Castiel put there. Scrape them off with his teeth.”
I’m happy with that little detail, too. I’ve never seen the sigils referenced in any cage fics but it just came to me while I was writing the sentence and yeah he would totally do that. You thought you could hide from me? Etc.
Sam breaks off, breathing heavily. She leans forward onto Gabe’s chest. He strokes a hand across her back softly, looking horrified but hanging onto every word.
He both like really wants to hear this and really doesn’t you know which like. Again is the dynamic that is the reason any of this is happening.
“The torture wasn’t all. He’d fuck me, too. Get inside of me a different way, like you are now. Make me ask for it, beg for it.”
She punctuates each word with a roll of her hips, increasing the pace. Gabriel tenses underneath her, and she can feel him come inside of her. There are tears in his eyes.
Sorry!! This is another one of my posts although I cannot find it to cite it. But Sam tells Gabe about the Cage during sex and he cries. So.
She relaxes, pats his stomach in some sort of halfhearted apology.
He deserved to hear it.
Just like, his coming back makes the previous seasons a betrayal in retrospect. Like where the hell were you, you know? She deserves to be super angry at him about that.
He flips her over, and she hisses in pain and pleasure both.
“Asmodeus preferred beating. It only took me a year to crack under the torture. I wasn’t used to pain. Hadn’t experienced any in millennia. I was soft.”
I had to go onto the wiki page for Asmodeus and look at the pictures of Gabriel and just kind of feel out what vibes I got of what Asmodeus would do to him and the vibe I got was a lot of punching and kicking. If I’m off don’t tell me.
Sam looks up at him through her lashes.
“Do you want to learn? How to take it?”
Fucked up little moment. Seductively asking if someone wants you to torture them.
Gabriel nods.
“Okay, then.” She strokes the side of his face, down to his chest.
“I’m going to open up your chest, okay? You’re gonna be fine. I’ve got you, I’ll walk you through it.”
He nods again. “Okay.”
This is like. I thought the violence would happen more during the sex and some of it did but Gabe wasn’t really getting into it so I had to improvise. I like this better though, it feels more in character.
She takes the knife back from him and starts. Teaches him how to breath, when it’s helpful to scream and when it’s best to just stay silent. To learn what your own limit is. You don’t have to be scared as long as the person with the knife isn’t going past that. You can relax.
And the fact that like they both are thinking of this as a favor that she’s doing for him.
When they’re done, Gabriel is clammy and sweating. He dry heaves over the side of the bed, but there’s no actual food in his stomach so nothing comes up. Sam strokes his back.
He sits back up.
“Thank you. And I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have the right to apologize to me,” she says tightly. He nods.
He nods a LOT in this fic but sometimes you’re just nervous about putting your foot in your mouth you know. Because so much has to be left unsaid.
She breathes.
“There you go. You feel alive now, don’t you.”
She slides off bed, kneels between his legs.
“May I?”
This BJ was thematically important to include because I needed the torture to be in the middle of sex, not after. And I needed some element of like, aftercare without it actually being personal, comforting, or helpful.
When she’s done, Gabriel heals her shoulder. He knits the skin back together, cleans up the blood, removes the bruising from her neck. She asks him to leave the bruises that would be covered by her shirt anyway.
Also she does all of this with an actively dislocated shoulder. Do not forget.
When they’re lying in bed, afterwards, he snaps and a pack of cigarettes appears in his hand. Unfiltered, the old kind. He hands one to her.
“Cigarette after sex?”
She laughs, takes the cigarette from him.
“You’ll remove it from my body, right? It won’t affect Jack, no secondhand smoke or anything?”
“It would take a lot more than a single cigarette to do shit to Jack, you know. But yes. I’ll take care of it.”
I just think that after all that Sam worrying about the effect of secondhand smoke from one single cigarette on her magical devil baby is very in character. This came to me on a walk one night and was actually the moment where I was like oh. I gotta write this.
They smoke in silence, staring at the wall, unwilling to meet each other’s eye.
It’s gotta end badly. It’s gotta. They never sleep together again and they have wrecked any possible chance at friendship, and both made themselves feel worse. That’s what it’s about, baby.
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captainillogical · 4 years
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Distant Lands Ch.10
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Stranded on a planet with toxic conditions and nothing but the clothes on your back, your only means of survival lies within the gem that got you here in the first place.
Spinel/Reader
collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants​
You get to the top of the stairs - hand still on the rail, and this time the air around you is very, very cold. You can see your breath in the moonlight, it dissipating quickly once it has the chance of escaping your lungs. The opening in the crumbling, broken wall has some light pouring in from the moons outside. You can only see two of them from your current standing position. Dropping your hand from the rail, you walk over to the open ledge and take a deep breath of the rigid jungle air beyond the Spire. It's a lovely night out tonight.
You take in the view for a while, not exactly keeping track of time. Out on the horizon, you can barely see the edge of the line of trees - the fog is fairly thick and is obscuring much of the lush greenery. The stars are barely visible tonight. Taking a step back, you notice something out of the corner of your eye, and turn your head to see Spinel quietly standing there about six feet to your right.
You almost jump, and can feel your heart beating wildly inside your chest. How did she get here without you noticing? What the fuck?
"Up here, all alone?" She finally speaks up after a moment, ghost of a smirk on her lips.
"What, am I not allowed? Maybe I came up here to think." You reply without missing a beat. The wind flows freely up here, and the bite of the cold makes you involuntarily shiver. She regards you almost.. carefully, with her gaze. She quirks an eyebrow at you, before opening her mouth again to speak.
"Ya' up here to think? Well, maybe then you'll finally admit a couple things to yourself."
She takes one, two steps closer to you, beams of light from the moons above illuminating half her face in long, dramatic shadows. 
"Admit what?" You hear yourself asking. 
Her gaze flickers between the both of your eyes, and then she leans closer to you, close enough so you can see just how dark those marks on her cheeks are, and says:
"You-"
There's a sharp tug on your abdomen, and you are thrown into consciousness via a face full of very cold, very hard cement.
Opening your eyes and looking downwards, you come to the conclusion that you somehow had rolled over far enough to have gone straight off your tarp pile and onto the floor, pulling most of the cloth you’ve got over you with. You roll back over to see Spinel still asleep, an arm stretched out towards you as you were probably lying under it until recently. (She likes to pretend she’s not a cuddler, but nearly every time you’ve woken up since you’ve been here she’s either got some limb wrapped around you, or her face is pressed into your shoulder.) You feel a little bad that you had pulled the tarp off of her, leaving her out in the open air. You grab the edge of the cloth, pulling it up and over the gem, bringing it right up to her chest before dropping it.
Laying your head back down, you take a long breath while re-settling yourself. You watch her chest slowly rise and fall with her breathing, eyes fixated on her gem. The room around you is completely quiet, only the sounds of her breathing beside you are audible.
What the fuck was that dream about? You barely have dreams anymore, let alone ones that are so.. realistic with their message. Normally it’s weird shit that doesn’t make any sense, not something like this. Whatever. Your brain is just tired and stressed from this.. situation you are in. You’re not going to put too much thought into figuring out what that meant. Closing your eyes, you drift back off to sleep to the sounds of the gem next to you softly breathing.
-
Even though it feels like you’ve only been asleep ten minutes, you wake up to Spinel shaking your shoulder and you roll over to face her. You feel like shit.
“Mornin’.” She says, her face pressed into the tarp pile. Her face has lines pressed into it where she slept too hard on an uneven surface, and she’s got a little bit of dried drool on the corner of her lip - but she looks like she got decent rest. “Figured I’d wake ya’ since it’s later than you usually sleep, and we planned on checking out the kindergarten today.” 
You stare at her for a moment, mind working at about the pace of the flow of molasses. She’s got loose strands of hair all over the place (some even sticking to her mouth), face looking weirdly refreshed from sleep - and you find this to be strangely endearing. This is the most human you have ever seen her.
“Could’ve been a little nicer about it.” You reply groggily, coughing into your hand to clear your throat.
“How was that- are ya’ royalty? How would you want me to wake you up? The gentle fanning of leaves!?” She sits up, pushing the tarp off of herself.
“Yeah, that would be lovely actually.” You sit up as well, clutching your head. You feel like today is definitely gonna be a day alright. “And while you’re at it, feed me some grapes.”
“You’re ridiculous.” She scoffs in reply, but you can hear the smile in her voice.
You grunt out a non-committal response, stretching your arms over your head and getting up from your current position. It doesn't take you long to eat, and you only drag your feet a little bit in actually leaving the Spire.
You know the kindergarten is somewhere nearby, but you had Spinel look up it's coordinates just in case you were slightly off the mark. The two of you make small talk on your way there, only taking about half an hour to reach your destination. It isn't a long or difficult walk. 
Soon as you get close to the kindergarten, you can see rocky ravine for miles. With the sun high overhead and it's rays beating down on your body, you can feel yourself break out into a sweat much to your irritation. It had rained last night so not all of the water has evaporated in this heat yet, and it just feels absolutely awful and swampy. You'd much rather be chilling in the proximity of that small waterfall right now, truthfully.
The trees get a little sparser the closer you get to the ravine, and it seems so very bright where you’re heading. Approaching your destination, you finally get a decent look around the area, Spinel stopping by your side.
The sun beams down on you two, and you have to shield your eyes to get a proper look around. Many layers of this planet's crust is showing in vibrant shades of orange, large rock walls reaching at least a hundred feet high, and you see a few holes where some gems probably emerged from. There’s.. there’s something wrong here, and you can’t put your finger on it. 
“Um. Where are most of the Injectors?” Spinel speaks up before you can get any words out. Ah. That’s it. You see two or three empty Injectors along the wall of rock, but that’s it.
“Good question. I have no idea.” You reply, and she turns her face to give you a puzzled look. 
“I don’t understand. Even if gems abandon a planet, it’s not like they take any of this stuff with. They just write it all off as a loss and move on.” Her eyes flicker between yours, as if she’ll find the answer there somehow.
“They obviously can’t just disappear, either. What the hell?” You say in agreement, the gentle breeze of hot, humid air wrapping itself around you like a wet blanket.
The both of you wander further into the area, intent on finding out any kind of clue at all. There are quite a few areas here that are just giant mud pits, as there’s no trees to soak up any of the rainfall. The ground practically squelches under your feet, and you hate it. You hate this entire stupid planet. At least Spinel doesn’t piss you off anymore. You find yourself angry that you had that thought in the first place, and then even angrier when you realize you’re angry about that. Whatever, you’re not here to argue with yourself.
You notice a couple of the broken injectors that are piled up off to the side near some large boulders, and point them out to Spinel.
"Those are similar to those pictures we saw." You say, walking closer to observe the damaged parts. There's five or six of them here, and they're pretty fucked up. The drill part of the injectors are completely ripped off, and they all have a hole smashed into the sides of the glass - where the liquid was drained.
"Why would they do this?" You hear Spinel say beside you.
"You seriously think the gems did this?" You turn to her to reply.
"Yeah, well, nothing else makes any sense." She reaches out, and touches some of the glass with her hand. You wanna smack her hand away for some reason.
"It could've been something else? We don't know."
"But what could kill that many gems?" She puts her finger to her lip, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"We don't know that they died, either, Spinel. That's kind of morbid." She glances at you, giving you a look.
"None of them returned in those logs. That's a lot of gems. Something strange had to have happened here." She looks back at the injectors thoughtfully for a moment, before backing away a couple steps. "I'm gonna keep looking around."
"Okay, I'm gonna look at these a little more." You reply with a nod, and she meanders off to where you can't see her. You lean down to get a closer view.
The glass is broken in a specific way on each of these injectors, as if none of it was controlled. It's obvious to you that they weren't smashed or drained on purpose, and you can see the tearing on the internal parts of this machine aren't cut clean. It was if something bit into these injectors and just stomped on them afterwards.
You notice quite a few scratch marks on the sides, but it could've been from anything, even from when they were being dragged on the ground. There's a couple areas where the gouging is deeper, but nothing else that really stands out.
You stand back up, and your back cracks from your earlier position. It still doesn't make much sense. So many injectors are still missing. You stand there in the heat, quietly thinking about what could've gone on, when you hear Spinel call for you a hundred or so feet away. You turn to the direction she called from, seeing nothing. Might as well see what she needs. You walk towards where her voice came from, and when you get past some more large rock obscuring your view, you see exactly why Spinel called out to you.
“Can ya’ believe the size of this one?” She says, turning her face towards you with a peaked eyebrow.
She’s standing in front of another tunnel. It’s obvious that it’s a tunnel now, as you can see into it about twenty feet before it gets too dark. The outer edges of this one are much, much wider, and there are large gouges inside along the wall of rock and mud. There’s a couple more injectors in this area as well, but less than you can count on your hand. Off to the opposite side of this seems to be a huge drop off a cliff.
“I kinda wanna go in.” She squints her eyes into the darkness, putting her hand up to her chin.
“Yeah that’s not gonna happen. We don’t have a light source, and if it actually is something that killed all those gems, I’m not gonna walk into like, a literal hell hole.”
“It’s the one thing we haven’t checked out yet. We don’t have any other leads.” “You know our goal is to get off this planet, not investigate all its mysteries and die in the process, right?” You reply sarcastically.
“We’re going in there eventually.” She says with such stubbornness that you roll your eyes.
“Talk to me about that in another week because honestly? I’m not going in there unless I have a way of finding myself out if you die in there, or I somehow get lost.”
“Y/N! Ya’ kinda being a bit ridiculous about this!” She gives you a look of exasperation, and sighs, dropping her arms to her sides.
“It’s not ridiculous! You have no idea what it’s like to be trapped somewhere in the dark!” You spit out, aggravatedly. 
“What.” She furrows her eyebrows, teeth showing in a snarl of frustration. Oh, right. Shit.
“Spinel.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache forming in the back of your skull. “You know I meant it like-”
“I don’t know what it’s like?? ME.” She forces out with such incredulousness in her voice that it echoes out all around you, travelling out through the ravine far enough until it fades out. The silence that befalls afterwards is nearly deafening.
You open your mouth to apologize, but you’re having difficulties with forming the right words. She watches you for a second, pupils flickering between your eyes.
“I’m s-” You start with, but immediately feel tremors underneath your feet. Spinel’s face reacts accordingly.
“A quake?” She says, her eyes widening a little. 
"Yeah, this feels like the one from before." You look around, not exactly expecting to see anything out of the norm other than some puddles of water rippling. The rumbling of the planet only lasts for a couple of seconds, and silence falls around you again. 
You feel a hand wrapping around your upper arm and before you can react, Spinel yanks you several feet off to the side as something large comes crashing down in front of you, splashing you with a wall of mud and stale rain water. 
“Oh what the fuck!?” You exclaim as you wipe mud off of your face. It’s an injector that fell off from high up on the wall. 
“That was a close one. Glad it didn’t squash ya’.” Spinel says, wide-eyed, and drops her hand from your arm. Whatever kind of mood that was just happening between you two is long gone. “The tremors must have loosened it enough for it to finally fall down.”
“Bullshit is what it was, I’m entirely covered from head to toe in mud.” You spit out some dirt that managed to get into your mouth. The soil here tastes acidic. Spinel got hit as well by the splash, but not nearly as much as you did. Of course. “I wanna leave. We’ve been here long enough, and I wanna wash all this out of the only clothes I have while the sun is still up.”
“But-”
“Spinel, we’re not going into the tunnel. Drop it.” You cut her off with, and sigh. 
“Argh, FINE! We’re discussing this some other time then.” She says frustratedly, crossing her arms. She turns to walk off in the direction you guys came from, and you follow her lead.
It takes you a bit to find a nearby body of water, but you do manage to find another small lake. This one is closer to the size of a pond with quite a few trees surrounding it, and you can see the Spire from here. With the sun high up in the sky beating down on you this entire time, the mud has completely dried on you, much to your displeasure. It’s pulling at your skin in all the worst ways.
For some reason Spinel hasn’t phased the dirt off of her clothes. Not that you really care, you just find it strange. She walks around the edges of the water, looking like she wants to just dive in. You grab the edges of your shirt, peeling it over your head slowly. Caked bits of mud fly about, and you throw your shirt directly into the water with a large splash. You struggle to take off your jeans, and you momentarily lose your balance enough on one leg to fall directly on your ass. Spinel snickers at you a couple meters away, and you turn your head to glare at her.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to peel these off, asshole? You don’t. You haven’t even phased the mud off yourself.” You say to her, gesturing at her with your hand. You finish taking off your pants on the ground, also tossing those in the water. 
“It doesn’t really bother me.” She replies with a shrug, and jumps into the water with a splash. 
You get back up, opting to keep your underwear and bra on. It's whatever. You're going to be in the water anyway. You watch Spinel lazily float on the surface of the water as you walk in, careful not to slip on the rocks at the bottom. You reach out and grab your clothes that are now soaked and about to sink into the water completely, and keep them close to yourself as you submerge your head underneath the surface of the water.
When you come back up for air and wipe your face off, you hear Spinel mumble a "Hey." off to your side, and you turn to face her. 
"Hm?" You manage to grunt out. 
"I think we need to have a discussion about somethin' important."
"And that is..?" You run your fingers through your hair, still feeling mud. Gross.
"What are we gonna do if no one ever finds us?" You see her pupils gravitate over to your face as she regards you.
Honestly.
You had been blocking that likely possibility in your thoughts for a while now to keep up the facade of your waning sanity. Also you know. To try to keep it positive.
"We keep trying to find a solution to leave." You reply, and submerge half your head in the water to scrub more dirt out.
"There's.. there's really nothing we can do though. I think the tech is too old to get communications back up. Believe me. I tried."
"Yeah but in the Spire there's dozens upon dozens of crates filled with parts to something. I saw it when I was up there exploring." You squeeze out the rest of your hair, feeling that it's finally dirt free. You move on to scrubbing down the rest of your body.
"Y/N.. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but most of the stuff that they'd bring supplies for would just be for the kindergarten."
"But I saw-"
"It'd be useless to us." She says, cutting you off. You look over to her, a bit surprised that she's being so direct and snippy about this. She's looking purposefully towards the sky, edges of her face being framed by the water she's floating in.
"Why are you saying this now?"
"Because we've been here a while, as you've noticed. With no sign of like, anyone attempting to contact us. We need to face reality."
"Sounds like you already have given up. Well, I haven't." You reply to her with a huff, and grab your clothes to wash the dirt out of them.
"How can you still have hope? It's been weeks, Y/N." She turns her head to face you, fixing you with a look.
"I believe Steven wouldn't just give up on me like that, for starters. I'm just hoping he remembered about our keychain." 
"Uh, what keychain?" Her eyebrows raise in confusion.
"Err, remember that convo about that night I snuck away? I might've forgotten to mention that I placed a small tracker I have as a matching keychain with Steven by that tree on the hill.." You say as you swish your pants through the water, squeezing the mud and dirt out of the fabric. 
"You had a tracker and you didn't tell me!?" She almost manages to sound like she's upset, and she stops her floating to stand up in the water and stare at you.
"It slipped my mind the last week or so. And yeah, I didn't tell you before because I was kinda under the impression that you'd probably destroy that too, like you did the warp pad." 
"I.. yeah." She replies, looking a little ashamed of herself. For some reason your chest feels a little constricted when she looks at you, and you almost want to reach out to her. You don't know why, but suppress the urge regardless. "I don't blame ya' honestly. I.. probably would have, too. Knowing myself."
"And you won't destroy it now?" You reply, and she fixes you with a look.
"Shouldn't you know by now if I was going to?" She huffs almost disappointedly at you. "Anyway, we should probably go back for it considering we're a couple miles away from it now, and if your friends did come, they'd be confused."
"Yeah, I figured." You shrug, and move onto washing your shirt. "I'm just kinda dreading that walk again. It's always so hot here that I feel disgusting being out and walking in this swampy air."
"You're tellin' me. I was kinda used to a more moderate temperature back in the garden. Several thousand years in the same climate to.. this? It's absolute torture, really." She submerges herself in water up to her chin, idly swimming while you wash up.
"Earth has a wide range of weather patterns so I've dealt with this kinda shit before, but I never lived in any kind of tropical region. I'm not great at dealing with the humidity. It feels like I'm walking through thick, wet air." You're having difficulty scrubbing all of the dirt out of the fabric, as for some reason it wants to cling to it.
"This planet sucks." She says with such gumption that you manage to snicker. She looks at you like she's a little surprised, but also pleased at herself.
"Listen, you picked it. Only I'm allowed to complain about it." You reply, using more force than necessary to scrub your shirt. 
She opens her mouth to retort, closes it, and gets a suspiciously mischievous glint in her eye.
"What-" Is all you manage to get out of your mouth before Spinel whips her arms out at rapid pace, splashing you with a face full of water.
You stand there, dripping and staring at her. It's deadly quiet as she's waiting for you to speak. She's watching your face intently as you casually lift up the hand you've got the shirt you're washing in, it drenched in lake water.
"You think you're funny huh!?" You say as you throw the soaked shirt at her, and it unexpectedly hits her in the face with a wet smack. It falls back into the water comically, and her face is the funniest fucking thing you've seen in a long time. 
"How dare you!" She cries, splashing you again, and you cover your face as you laugh.
"I wasn't going for your face, I'm sorry!" You say in between laughs. Her face twists into shock, and then mirth, as she splashes you for a third time. 
"Well then, that's payback." She chuckles smugly, and now you want to wipe that smirk off her face. You drop your hand into the water and quickly splash her right in the middle of her face, drenching her. 
"Y/N!" Spinel gasps, mock betrayal in her voice. She drops both of her hands into the lake.
"Don't." You plead with a shake of your head. 
"Don't what?" She says coyly, and brings up both her hands with a mountain of water in tow, and this starts an all out war.
She hits you square in the face with another wall of water, and you laugh as you sink further into the water, bringing up both your arms to throw more water at her from a lower angle. The two of you struggle to breathe through your bouts of laughter as you keep splashing lake water at each other. This really only lasts for about thirty seconds, but the both of you are nearly out of breath and laughing so hard that you're having a hard time standing up.
When your giggles subside enough to give you room to breathe, you cough a couple times to clear your throat, face hurting from the laughter. It's been a while since you've done that. You glance over to Spinel, who's standing still in the water. She's got her gaze set on you, almost like she's lost in thought. When she realizes that you're looking back at her she also clears her throat and shakes her head, sending bits of water flying off her.
"Anyway." She says. "I definitely feel like things could be worse, all things considered."
"Really?" You reply, grabbing your water-logged clothes from the surface. "What makes you say that?"
"I've been on planets with way worse conditions. Crazy lightning storms that will electrify you if you're above ground, ice climates that are so cold humans definitely wouldn't survive for more than 5 minutes outside, planets that are on fire 95% of the time. The list goes on." She shrugs, looking at the water thoughtfully.
"Thanks for not bringing me somewhere I'd be near instantly eviscerated, I guess." You say snidely, and figure it's a good time to dry out your clothes.
You walk back out of the lake at your leisure, holding your sopping wet shirt and jeans. Once you squeeze out as much of the excess water as you can, you lay them out on a rock that's in clear view of the sun so that they can dry. It shouldn't take too long honestly, with this current heat.
You're not facing Spinel as you're doing this, back turned to her. It's pretty quiet, the sounds of wind rustling the trees and insects around you are the only things you can hear. It's peaceful.
"Were ya' ever gonna tell me what happened?" You hear Spinel say from behind you. You turn to face her, and she's floating idly again, but her eyes are trained on you.
"What?" You ask confusedly.
"The scar on your back." She replies.
"Oh." You're a bit surprised. You forget it exists because you can't see it. "Umm.."
"You don't have to tell me if ya' don't want to." She says quickly. Huh. You weren't expecting her to be kind of.. tactful about it.
"It's not that, it's just.." You sigh, and clear your throat before continuing. "It's kind of a long story."
"You could cut out most of the details if ya' don't wanna go into them."
"Yeah. Okay." You feel your body get too warm from standing in the direct sunlight, so you walk back into the water to chill while you wait for your clothes to dry. "Remember how I told you that once I got decent enough from training with Pearl, they let me go on missions with them?"
"Yeah?" She replies, eyes looking up into the sky, trees rustling above you gently.
"One time they let me and Steven go on a small mission alone after I convinced the crystal gems that we'd be fine. It was supposed to be easy."
"How so?"
"It was a simple retrieval mission. We were supposed to get a relic in this temple. In and out, right?" You get up to your shoulders in water, letting the cool water surround you. "Well, turns out it wasn't. We got attacked by these golem monsters because I made a shitty call. They told us to not take any shortcuts and to just take a direct path through, but half the temple had already collapsed years prior to regular wear and decay."
"Why didn't ya' just turn around?" She turns her face towards you, and momentarily you're blinded by her gem sparkling in the sunlight.
"Because I was stupid, and stubborn. It took a lot of pleading to let them let us go on our own. I thought it'd be fine."
"So the scar is from then?" She regards you with a raised eyebrow.
"I jumped out foolishly in an attempt to protect Steven. I mean, protecting him wasn't the foolish part. It was that I ran directly at the golem, and it smacked me aside like a fucking fly. My back slammed into jagged rock, and that's why it looks like this. If it wasn't for Steven's healing powers, I'm not sure I'd be able to walk properly even now."
"How come you seemed so.. sensitive about it when I asked you about it back then?" She inquires thoughtfully.
"Because it brings up everything that happened after. The gems were rightfully pissed. For a while there, they didn't trust me with anything. Told me I couldn't even follow simple instructions to keep a child safe."
"Ouch."
"Yeah. It took.. years after that, to regain their trust. It sucked, not gonna lie. I'll do nearly anything to never have Garnet give me the cold shoulder for a week like that, ever again."
"How did Steven feel about it?" 
"He was on my side the entire time, actually. He also thought we could handle it."
"They didn't put any blame on him?"
"He was a kid. I was the adult in charge. They couldn't, really. And even looking back on it now, I wouldn't want them to. It really was my responsibility. I just.. felt kinda useless about it all, you know?"
"I feel like ya' blame yourself a lot for this." She gives you a side eye, her hair floating around her face in the water.
"Maybe. I just feel stupid for reacting that way, when I could've been killed. And for what? Couldn't even protect one kid."
"You're too harsh on yourself. Everyone makes mistakes."
"You're probably right, I hate to admit."
"You think I'm right?" She says as her face lights up in a grin.
"Don't make me regret saying that." You scoff, unable to stop the smile breaking out on your face. "But yeah. I still think about it often, even though it's been years."
"Yeah, I can sorta relate to that." She sighs wistfully, and you watch her float on the surface of the water. 
You let your mind drift a bit as the two of you sit in comfortable silence, rays of sunlight pouring through the jungle trees. It's a hot, lazy afternoon, and you could probably fall asleep here if you closed your eyes long enough. After a while, you look over to your clothes on the rock you placed them on, and they look to be dry. Dry enough to wear again, you guess.
"We should probably head back soon." You mumble to her, and she grunts in response a couple seconds later.
You get out of the water begrudgingly, wiping yourself off as best as you can. You make quick work of putting your shirt back on, but you have obvious difficulties with your jeans. Spinel walks over to you as you're getting your other leg in, and you pretend this isn't as difficult as it looks.
"Is putting clothes on that hard for you?" She asks, and you can hear the mockery in her voice.
"Shut up. It's not like you've ever had to put clothes on before." You sneer back at her, and finally button the top of your pants. Phew.
"It can't be that hard. You looked like you were strangling your leg." She grins, placing her hands on her hips smugly.
"Keep that up and I'll strangle you, Spinel." You reply, deadpan. Obviously you don't mean it.
"I'd like to see ya' try." She snickers, and you wish you had your wet shirt in hand again, just to smack her with it.
"You'll eat those words one of these days, I swear." You stick your tongue out at her and spin around to head back to the Spire. You hear her sputter from behind you, and her footsteps as she runs to catch up to you.
"You're kind of prickly, anyone ever tell ya' that?" She says from beside you, keeping up with your leisurely pace. You don't feel like breaking out into a sweat again.
"Nope. Steven says I'm pleasant." You retort. She snorts at that, bringing a fist to her mouth to stop herself from laughing. "Anyone ever tell you that you're a bit irritating?"
"Nope! Eh. Wait, maybe Pink did, once." She puts a finger to her lip, biting it in thought. "She honestly couldn't complain though, the other diamonds thought she was such a handful that they gave her me. For entertainment."
"Man, fuck Pink Diamond. All she did was cause Steven problems that he never deserved. She caused problems for literally everybody." You say disdainfully, careful to watch your step on some large roots sticking out of the ground. Spinel looks like she's a bit surprised at your words, but also pleased at them. It does weird things to your chest cavity. 
"You can say that again." She says, smiling a little bit. There's some silence for a minute or two as you both are walking, before she decides to say something again. "So.. not to change the topic or anything, but I never really did ask you about your home life? I know you were with the gems, but what about your family? I know humans have biological blood bonds."
"My family is the crystal gems, Spinel." You say to her, and she looks at you in confusion. "I mean, I have parents, sure. I wouldn't call what they did as raising me, though. They fucking suck and I don't care about them. My mother would sell my possessions for drug money and was never home, and my dad's an alcoholic who only cares about his work. They never gave two shits about me as far as I can remember, and they only ever had me as a mistake. They never liked each other. So, when the gems offered me a room to stay, I jumped on that prospect immediately. I've never looked back. I haven't talked to either of my parents in over six years."
"Ouch. Okay, I'm a bit sorry I asked." She replies sheepishly.
"Eh, don't be. It doesn't bother me anymore." You say with a shrug. She looks at you almost like she's concerned, and then dismisses it.
"I'm glad about that, at least." She kind of gives you a wry half-smile, and you continue staring ahead of you. You're almost back to the Spire by now.
You think it's kind of cute that she asks about you. It makes you think.. hm. You clear your throat.
"So.. Spinel." 
"Hm?" She replies, meeting your gaze.
"Is it like, in your nature?" You ask her.
"My what?" She raises her eyebrow in response.
"You know.. like a Pearl." God, the look she's giving you right now is so fucking funny that you have to force yourself to not laugh. "They always end up being people pleasers. It's terribly natural for them." 
"What the fuck are ya' talking about?" She levels you with a look, stopping in her tracks.
"Trying to be friends with people! You just keep.. asking me stuff to know me better." You reply, stopping as well and turning to face her.
"What.." She trails off, stopping to stare at you. "I'm.. I'm not.." You watch her cheeks tinge a darker pink.
"Are you blushing!?" You blurt out in surprise, and she glares at you. It's not effective whatsoever.
"No!" She hisses through her teeth, and pushes past you.
"You're not very convincing!" You shout at her, and jog to catch up to her.
"Shut up!!!" She turns to see you trailing right behind her, and speeds up tremendously to outpace you. 
"Wait! Come back!" You laugh out at her. "I bet you just can't help it!"
"We're done talking about this!!" She shouts from twenty feet in front of you.
"NOT IF I CAN HELP IT!" You shout in response, and run to follow several feet behind her all the way to the Spire, laughing the entire way back.
You haven't smiled this much in weeks.
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Text
The Not-So Worst Day of Peter’s Life
This fic is a part of the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange for @fromsiberia
                      Rating: General            Warnings: N/A   
I enjoyed writing this - I hope you enjoy reading it! 
Peter takes a class trip to Stark Industries. What could go wrong (or right)?
Read on ao3
“So, we have a field trip planned,” Peter mentions casually while eating lunch on Sunday.
 Tony swallows the food in his mouth, “Great kid. When and where?”
 “It’s this Friday, and it’s at Stark Industries,” Peter’s mouth contorts into a strained smile. “Did you do this?”
 “I did not, cross my heart and hope to die,” Tony runs a finger across his sternum. “It was probably someone in our HR department. Why, you don’t want to go?”
 “it just puts me in a tough spot because I’m ‘working’ here,” Peter makes finger quotations, “and no one believes me but Ned and MJ, but that’s because they know my alter ego.”
 “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to call out sick and not go in that day? Or do you want me to acknowledge you and just rave about your intelligence? I’m good with that, too.”
 “No! Just do what you normally do. If we run into you, you can just say hi to me to prove you know me, but I don’t need a whole letter of recommendation or anything!” Peter scoffs.
 Tony nods understandingly, “I will be the ultimate professional, but I cannot speak for Happy. Or Bucky, if he’s around.”
“If I’m around where?” Bucky saunters into the room, dropping a kiss on Tony’s cheek.
 “Speak of the devil,” Tony smirks. “Peter’s class is going to SI on Friday for a field trip.”
 Bucky’s eyes glitter. “Good to know.” He grabs a water bottle from the fridge and walks back out. “Going for a run with Steve.”
 “Make sure you shower afterwards!” Tony yells after him.
 Peter turns on Tony as soon as Bucky leaves, “Please don’t let him embarrass me.”
 “I will do what I can,” Tony ruffles Peter’s head. Standing up, he takes his plate and sticks it in the dishwasher. “Hey, I just got some of that stretchy material in. Wanna test it?”
 Peter eagerly follows him into the lab.
 +++++++++++++++++++
“So, Tony didn’t set it up?” Ned asks, biting into his pizza.
 “No, he had no idea. I guess they do field trip things fairly often, so they just have someone in HR schedule them.” Peter wrinkles his nose. “Really Ned? Pineapple and sweet peppers? Ugh, that’s nasty.”
 “You just have boring tastes, extra-cheese man.”
 MJ shakes her head, “Bacon’s where it’s at.”
 Peter and Ned look at each other and shrug. Neither of them can refute the fact that bacon is one of the better pizza toppings.
 “So, Penis, are you going on the field trip on Friday?” Flash Thompson walks up to stand at the end of their table. “I wouldn’t blame you for not going, you know, because it’s going to be so embarrassing for you when we all confirm that your Stark Internship is all in your imagination. Right guys?” Flash’s little posse of friends all agree and laugh.
 “I’m going.” Peter smiles at Flash.
 “Alright. It’s your funeral,” Flash replies then turns to his crowd. “IF we see Tony Stark, maybe he can tell us about Spiderman! Unlike this idiot here, Spiderman actually works with Iron Man! He’s like the coolest superhero out there. Okay, let’s go. Bye losers!” He does a little wave at Peter’s table. Peter gives him a thumbs up in response.
 “I mean, it’s funny to me that Flash loves you and hates you, but why do you put up with that?” MJ comments.
Peter shrugs, “It doesn’t really bother me. If he wants to run his mouth, trying to make me feel small, let him. At least he’s doing it to me, and not someone who will actually be affected by it. By the way, tomorrow night, we’re watching Clueless. Bucky hasn’t seen too many rom-coms, and I mean to change that. Tony said you are welcome to come. He’s making like six different types of popcorn.”
 “I’m in.” MJ nods as Ned raises his hand and waves it to show he also will be there.
 The bell rings to indicate the end of lunch break, and the trio splits up to go to their respective classes.
 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Tony meets Peter when he gets to the Tower after rotations. “Hey Pete, I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you that Harley’s going to be here this week.”
 ‘Oh ok, maybe we can finish that project now that… OH NO! Don’t tell me he’s going to be at SI on Friday!” Peter groans as Tony grimaces.
 “Unfortunately, he will be, and you know there’s nothing I can do to stop him once he’s on a warpath.”
 “My life is over,” Peter mourns. “Why can’t his college have normal spring break just like everybody else?”
 “Probably because the universe is just bent on screwing you over.” Peter hates just how amused Tony sounds.
 He folds his arms. “You’re the worst dad ever.”
 “Sure son. Want to talk it over a game of catch?” Tony has his biggest shit-eating grin plastered across his face.
 Peter shakes his head. “No, I just remembered. Aunt May said she’s going to have supper ready at 6:30 so I got to go. Love you, Dad.” He quickly hugs Tony then runs out the door.
 “Love you, too kid!” Tony calls after him.
 “Look at you, being less and less emotionally stunted as the days go by,” Rhodey comments from the doorway.  “I guess Barnes and the kid are doing you good.”
 “Oh, shut it, platypus.” Tony shoots back good-humoredly. “You were the one who started the process.”
 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Tuesday night, dubbed “Movie Night,” comes, and Tony, Bucky, Peter, Harley, Ned, and MJ are watching Clueless on Tony’s huge theater-sized TV. JARVIS turns on Clueless, and everyone soon gets lost into the hard high-school life of one Cher Horowitz.
 Peter sympathizes with Cher’s driving issues as he also had a hard time learning to drive. He cringes, thinking of the time he had to drive Flash’s father’s car to chase Liz’s dad. Tony shudders at the fashion, or lack thereof, of the 90’s.
 When the movie ends, Harley points out that although Cher’s last name is supposedly Horowitz, her report card is labelled as Cher Hamilton. MJ tells them she doesn’t like that Josh is Cher’s step-brother – it just weirds her out. Peter asks Bucky what he thought of the movie.
 Bucky thinks about it for a second then asks, “Isn’t this basically modern-day Emma?”
 “Emma?”
 “Yea, the Jane Austen novel. Like, Cher is clearly Emma. She’s so happy she got Dionne together with Murray so she thinks she’s good at this stuff. She takes Tai in order to help her become popular. That means Tai is Harriet Smith. Cher tries to set her up with Elton, whose name is taken straight from Emma – Mr. Elton. Cher thinks she’s in love with Christian, who is pulled from Frank Churchill. The only difference here is that Christian is gay, not already engaged to Jane Fairfax. Josh, of course, is Mr. Knightley, except that he’s Cher’s stepbrother, not a family friend. Because Elton says he’s in love with Cher, not Tai, Tai feels unwanted. When Josh starts showing her attention because Cher asked him to, Tai starts to fall for him just as Cher realizes she’s in love with him. This is equal to the scenes where Mr. Knightley dances with Harriet when Mr. Elton snubs her. Harriet believes he is interested whereas he’s only doing Emma a favor. Harriet tells Emma that she thinks she loves Knightley. As a result, Emma gets a reality check. In the end, Tai dates the skater boy Travis, who is the modern-day Robert Martin, deemed as unworthy by Cher/Emma.” He pauses when he sees everyone just staring at him, open-mouthed. “I’m not wrong, am I?”
“Oh my gosh,” MJ whispers. “I think I love him.”
 “Sorry, he’s mine,” Tony wraps his arms around Bucky. “Bucky, darling, I don’t know because I don’t read mushy stuff like Jane Austen, but based on MJ’s reaction, you must have hit the nail on the head.”
 Bucky nuzzles Tony’s cheek with his nose until Harley fake gags, “There are children present!”
 “The book is better, but the movie was ok,” Bucky wrinkles his nose.
 Peter clutches his chest, “It’s a rom-com classic! I can’t believe it!” He dramatically falls off the couch onto the floor, acting as if his heart had failed him.
 “Oh, no, we lost him. What ever shall we do?” Harley deadpans, stuffing a pillow on Peter’s face and holding it there until Peter rolls over.
 “You are all a bunch of children,” Tony laughs. “Honey, don’t you feel like the parent of some very unruly children.”
 Bucky snorts, “Gee, I wonder who they got it from.”
 “Gasp. Betrayed by my own boyfriend. Now I have no one in the cruel, cold world.” Tony splays a hand across his arc reactor. “Woe is me.”
 All too soon, though, it was time to go home, and Peter wishes all his nights could be like this. As Peter leaves one last lingering look at Tony and Bucky on the couch, he feels Harley nudge him. “Hey, at least you can leave,” the blond nineteen-year-old grins. “I’m going to have to deal with them, and I don’t think they’re going to wait until they get to their room to start. Seriously, I may have to gouge my eyes out by the end of the week.”
 Peter pats Harley on the shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll manage. Have a good night.”
 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Peter spends Wednesday night with Aunt May, but Tony asks for his help in the SI lab on Thursday. Two hours into working on improving Peter’s suit, Peter admits, “I’m a little nervous about tomorrow.”
 Tony immediately puts down his tools, “Ok… talk to me. What’s wrong?”
 “I just… don’t know what’s going to happen, and I don’t want to make a big deal about the whole internship. Like, I don’t even care if they don’t believe me. Now it either becomes a big deal, or they'll all still think I’m a liar. And what if someone makes the Spiderman connection?”
 “Hey, kid. You'll be fine, but if you don’t want to go, don’t go. You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone. I’ll support you with whatever you choose.  And the Spiderman thing? I don’t think anyone’s going connect the dots. They'll probably think Harles is Spiderman before you." Tony knocks his shoulder. “All I’m saying is I will be happy to see you if you decide to go, and I would never be ashamed of being seen with you. I’ve basically adopted you. If you want to add fuel to the flames, I can even call you son.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
 “No! Please don’t! I don’t need that as well.” Peter groans.
 “Ok ok fine!” Tony holds up his hands. “But let me know if you need me to be a school emergency contact. I know May’s been having longer shifts, but she won’t accept my help.”
 “She’s a strong independent woman, Tony. She doesn’t need you.”  Peter jabs playfully.
 “No she does not. I admire her. The only person I admire more than her is Pepper. And I’ve met Thor, Peter.”
 Peter gasps dramatically, “Don’t diss on my Thor!”
 When Peter goes to leave that night, Tony pulls him into a hug. “Love ya, son.”
 “Love you, too, dad.” Peter’s heart fills with happiness. He supposes tomorrow won’t be too bad.
 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Friday comes, and May wakes Peter up for his class trip. He groans but gets up. “Ugh. Today is going to be a train wreck.” He tells her.
 “You know, you don’t have to go on your class trip,” May remarks, looked amused.
 “Yea, I know, but I feel like I should just go.”
 Peter gets to school, and Flash seems to be waiting for him. “Oh, hey guys. Here he is! We’re going to see today just how pathetic Parker is. I hope you’re ready.” Flash smirks at him.
 “Oh, believe me, I am not ready for this trip,” Peter concedes, “but for reasons that are so much different than what you’re thinking.”
 “Ok, boys, enough fighting. It’s time to go,” Mr. Harrington calls from the front of the classroom. “Everyone, pair up and get on the bus.”
 Peter and Ned fall in line together, followed by MJ and Betty. The pretty blonde taps Peter on the shoulder. “Hey Peter, for what it’s worth, I believe you.”
 “Thanks Betty! I appreciate it.” Peter smiles back at her.
 The four of them sit together in the back of the bus, ignoring all the chaos going on in front of them. “It gets worse,” Peter confides to Ned, “Harley’s gonna be there. You know it’s his goal in life to make me as uncomfortable as possible.”
 “Relax, Pete, he’s like your brother. That’s what family’s for.”
 The bus ride takes approximately thirty minutes to get to Stark Industries. Once everyone is out and lined up two by two, Mr. Harrington leads them up to the facility. He fumbles with the paperwork as he walks up to a security guard. Once the guard is satisfied, he takes them in to the front desk. Bambi is working the desk, as usual. She hands out visitor’s cards to every member of the party, and her face brightens when she sees Peter. “Oh, hi Peter! I didn’t realize this was your class. You should just be showing them around, don’t you think?” She winks at him.
 Peter loves Bambi. She treats him like her own grandchildren. “Hi, Bambi. It’s good to see you. Today, I think I’m just following along with the rest of them.”
 As the rest of the class had already left the receptionist desk to wait for their tour guide, no one heard Peter and Bambi’s interaction. Mr. Harrington calls him over, and Flash looks at him suspiciously. “What, did you ask her to act like she knew you?”
 “No, she just knows me. That’s Bambi.”
“No shit. Isn’t that what her name tag read?” Flash retorts, and Peter mentally nods. Flash does have a point there.
 “Midtown High?” A voice says, and Peter freezes. No. He knows that voice. He turns slowly to find that his fear is, in fact, reality. “Hello, my name is Harley Keener. I’m a part-time intern of Tony Stark, and I will be your tour guide today. Does anyone have any questions before we start?”
 Annabelle raises her hand, “Will we see Tony Stark or Pepper Potts today?”
 “You are in luck, because Tony himself instructed that I show you his lab today. Ms. Potts is the CEO of the company, so I can’t really say if we will see her or not. She is a very busy woman.” Harley smiles. Peter feels his eyes on him, and when Peter looks up, Harley’s smile becomes a smirk. Peter’s spidey-senses tingle with a sense of foreboding.
 Flash nudges Peter, “Hey Porker, that is what someone who interns for Tony Stark would look like. He’s mature and actually attractive… unlike you.”
 “You think he’s mature? He’s the devil incarnate. The only reason he is leading this tour is because he wants to make my life miserable,” Peter hisses.
 Flash scoffs, but he just rejoins his partner at the front of the line.
 “Hey, kid.” Harley addresses Flash. “I’m sorry, but I need to ask you to stay with your partner in a two-by-two line unless I say you can spread out. I don’t want to cause problems, but I’m sure you understand that we have precautions that we must take in order to let guided tours through here.” Peter holds in a laugh when Flash looks properly chastised.
 Ned leans close and says, “And that’s where family has your back as well, even after you call them ‘the Devil incarnate.’”
 Harley leads them through department after department, explaining how each of them work. After explaining, he would ask if anyone had any questions. Finally, on the sixth floor, Flash can’t resist any longer. “I have to ask, Mr. Keener, do you know anyone by the name of Peter Parker?”
 “You mean Tony’s other intern? Yea I know him. He’s a little shit most of the time, but yea. Any other questions?”
 Everyone in the class turns back to Peter, who can’t help but smile smugly. “I have a question,” Peter asks, “Why did you decide to guide this tour? This isn’t your normal job here.”
 The blood drains from Peter’s face when Harley just smiles and says, “It was something I wanted to do, and Tony owed me that favor after he lost the bet.”
 “Oh crap.” The foreboding tingles are back.
 Mr. Harrington looks confused, “I’m sorry. I guess you two know each other?”
 “Yes, we have worked together on many a project with Mr. Stark,” Harley informs him. “We just have a little harmless rivalry – like to poke fun at each other.”
 Flash looks like he’s just going to faint. Peter wants to laugh at him, but he’s mature. He’ll laugh about it later.
 Harley continues, “Now, if no one has any questions about this department, I will take you up to the next floor. Please be warned, this is Tony Stark’s R&D floor. We will have to confiscate any phones as we do not allow any videos and pictures on this floor.” They climb the stairs. “Before we go in, please hand all your phones and/or recording devices to Alessia here. She will return them to you once we come back out of this room.”
 Once everyone forks over their technology, Harley puts his hand on the scanner, and the doors open. “Please line up against the wall, and don’t touch anything.” He tells them.
 Peter groans aloud when he sees the view in front of him. Bucky frickin’ Barnes is sitting on the frickin’ table where Tony is fixing his frickin’ arm! He knows Bucky and Harley have something up their sleeve.
 “You ok there, Parker?” Harley asks, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.
 “Yeah. I’m great.” Peter grits out.
 Tony and Bucky seem to be in their own little world because neither of them looks up. Tony closes a plate on Bucky’s arm and runs his hand down the arm until he clasps Bucky’s hand in his own. Bucky touches Tony’s face with his right arm, and Harley clears his throat loudly. Bucky slowly drops his hand, and they both turn to look at the class, Bucky’s eyes seeking Peter out.
 Tony smiles his press smile, “Welcome, guys, gals, and non-binary pals to where the magic happens. This lab here is my personal lab, and very few people have access to this select lab. Consider yourselves lucky. Sergeant Barnes here just had some problems with his arm, and, as I was working here today, came to visit me. If you see over there, I have my helper bots.” Tony walks over to ELL-E. “This darling here is one of my newer ones. Say hi, ELL-E!” Everyone awws when she raises her claw and waves. “I have three of these at home, all built when I was in college. Since I work most days at the tower, I keep them there. DUM-E was the first AI bot I ever made. He’s a mess, though. That’s why his name’s DUM-E.” He claps his hands together. “Now does anyone have any questions… actually, wait, I have a question for you kids. We are in the process in updating the Stark phone. Does anyone here own one, and if so, do you have any suggestions in improving it?”
 Raoul raises his hand, “Well, I must say I do love the latest update… the easy access to setting up disability features really helped my mom use her phone better. She used to make one of us use her phone for her because most phones either don’t have the features or make it hard to find where to turn them on.”
 “Thank you. Fun fact – that update was drawn up and coded by your very own classmate over there, one Mr. Peter Parker. I don’t know how much of a bragger he is – I sure was one when I was his age – but that young man is brilliant. I am honored to have him working here as an intern.” Tony sends a smile towards Peter.
 Flash raises his hand, “Hi, so if Peter interns for you, and you mostly work from the tower, does that mean Peter works at Stark Tower around all the superheroes?”
 “Yup,” Tony smiles. “To be honest, I think he had the biggest freak out when he met Bucky over here… or maybe Thor. Sorry, Buck, I think Thor is his favorite.”
 A few other students raise their hands to ask questions, and Peter zones out. A loud clapping sound wakes him from his reverie.
 “I hate to interrupt, but it’s almost time for lunch,” Harley speaks up. “Do you want me to take them down now, or is there anything else you want to say?”
 Tony spins back around to face them, finger in the air. “I just had a brilliant idea. Why don’t you join me and Sergeant Barnes for lunch? We’re going down to the cafeteria. Just order what you want on my dime. We’ll accompany you down in a minute.”
 “Sir, you don’t have to,” Mr. Harrington sputters. “The students did all bring lunch…”
“Oh, it would be my pleasure. I have more money than I know what to do with. I insist,” Tony says. Then he smirks and says, “I know, Ms. Jones, that I should sink my money into charities and things. Please provide me with several of your choice, and I promise to make a large donation.”
 MJ’s mouth opens and closes, then she nods. “Fair enough.”
 “Ok kiddos,” Harley says, “let me take you down to the cafeteria. If you want your phones back, please make sure you pick them up from Alessia.”
 Peter and Ned are the last ones to leave the lab. Peter turns right before he walks out. Bucky and Tony wave at him. He groans, “They’re going to do something at lunch. I can feel it.”
 Five minutes later, Tony and Bucky arrive in the cafeteria, holding hands.
 “Holy shit! Are they actually together?” Adria gasps in a loud whisper.
 Ned rolls his eyes. “Of course. What, have you been living under a rock?”
 After the power couple get their food, they sit at the table where Peter and Harley are sitting. “So, did we do ok, kid?” Tony asks.
 “Well, now the whole world is going to know you’re dating. They’re not ‘just speculating’ anymore.” Peter smirks.
 “Babe, we can have a make out session on the table now!” Bucky’s eyes twinkle. “We don’t have to hide anymore!”
 “Gosh no, please, please no!” Peter groans. “Ugh. I hate you all right now.”
 “We love you, too,” Harley coos.
 Twenty minutes later, Harley and Mr. Harrington round up the class to proceed with the tour. Bucky pulls Tony up and says, “Come on, Mr. Stark, you have a meeting with Ms. Potts to which you must not be late if you know what’s good for you.” “Oh, are you giving me orders, Sergeant Barnes?” Tony asks back, and Peter knows his face is bright red.
 “Just… go.” He mutters, and he’s sure only Bucky was able to hear him. Bucky takes it as a cue to leave. He takes Tony’s arm.
 “Here is where I must take my leave,” Tony, ever the showman, bows. “Thank you all for touring my humble company, and I do hope you all have enjoyed yourselves. Bye, Petey.” He wiggles his fingers. Peter hides his face in his hands.
 “Kill me now,” he pleads to Ned.
 The rest of the field trip goes off without a hitch, and the ride back to school is peaceful. Peter imagines everyone is on Twitter going on about Winteriron or something. He realizes that Tony and Bucky did this so that no one would bother him about the internship. Once again, he is choked up to see just how caring and thoughtful Tony is.  The next person who says differently can catch these hands. He thinks.
 Peter leaves quickly when school ends so he doesn’t miss his bus that has a tendency to show up early. Tony is waiting for him at the tower when he gets there. “So how did we do today?”
 “You guys were embarrassing, but I guess I’ve come to terms with it.” Peter grumbles. “That’s what family does. Thank you for taking all the attention off of me. You didn't have to go semi-public with your relationship.”
 “Let you have the spotlight? Never! Don't you know I need it all?” Tony jokes, then smiles softly. “I only did what Rhodey would’ve done to me.”
 Peter smiles, “Rhodey is a gift to this world.”
 “Peter, my dear, you are brilliant, but let me tell you, that is the smartest and most correct thing you have ever said,” Tony takes him by the shoulders. “But if you ever tell my honeybear that, I will deny it vehemently.”
 “Understood. Hey want to play a game of chess?” When Tony agrees, Peter gets the chessboard out that Wanda had given him. Apparently, it had belonged to her father. Peter just likes the glass pieces.
  Epilogue
On Monday, Flash apologizes to him when they return to school. “Hey Parker, I… uh… I’m sorry for all that shit I said about you. I guess it just seemed unreal, and I shouldn’t have made fun of you like that.”
 “Yea, you shouldn’t have. Being a dick doesn’t make you cool; it just makes you look like a dick. But I do understand. My life is pretty surreal. No harm done – just don’t do it anymore to anyone.” Peter tells him.
 Flash nods, “Yea, I know. So, have you met Spiderman? Is he as cool as he seems?”
 “Nah, I hate him. He’s a total loser. He once stole my ice cream sandwich and didn't replace it or apologize.” Peter smiles. “Now, Thor? He’s not called a god for no reason. He would never do that.”
 Peter walks out of school much happier than usual. Maybe this field trip wasn’t so bad.
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jafndaegur · 4 years
Text
That Day We Met, It Snowed Too
Jumin x MC
°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°
a/n: This is based off the Japanese folk-tale the Crane Wife (particularly Rin & Len’s version in Seasonal Feathers). This was inspired by and made as a companion for @anon-drabble’s take on Orihime and Hikoboshi. Yes, this is male!MC.
°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°.*~*.°
Nimble fingers worked the loom, and MC looked up from his whittling to watch Jumin work. They were both talented, but his husband took craftsmanship to a level like no other. Beautiful blue and silver decorated the woven cloth, the threads going back and forth and back and forth as Jumin added line after line. The motion was hypnotic. He couldn’t help but be drawn in.
His chest clenched, and MC bent over, coughing wracking his frame. The loom carrier clattered when it hit the floor, Jumin suddenly at his side. Steel grey eyes searched him in panick. MC tried to control his breathing through the thick hacking veil.
“The cold does my lungs poorly,” he admitted, covering his mouth afterwards. His forehead touched the floor and his body spasmed violently with each cough.
“Once this blanket is done, you will have better warmth, my love.” Jumin’s touch was a steady and gentle reassurance on his back.
MC tried to hide the blood seeping through his fingers as he slowly sat back on his heels. “You’re too good to me.”
Panic fueled every ounce of Jumin’s body as he rushed for the doctor on the otherside of the village. The snow was cold. The world frozen. But neither of those things stopped him from dragging the old healer back to his home.
Who knows how long it took, but his body paced aimlessly. He trudged back and forth in front of the door, waiting on the verdict. Little by little, Jumin’s patience began to seep away into a thin frail line. He was half tempted to barge in on the exam when the doctor emerged with a grim expression.
Jumin felt his stomach rise to his throat.
“He will die,” the doctor murmured. “You’re lucky the cold season is almost at its end. He will have some good weather to see him off.”
Jumin grit his teeth. “Is there nothing I can do?”
“Well…” The doctor scratched his chin and gave a huff. “There is medicine.”
“Where can I find it?” Jumin demanded. “I will pay anything. I will do anything. I need the medicine.”
Humming darkened in the doctor’s throat. “I can order it…however, it is a western remedy. And therefore far more expensive than either you or he can offer.”
“How much?”
The doctor mentioned very vaguely his guess of the cost.
The storm in Jumin’s eyes darkened. He barely managed to thank the old man, barking out a reminder to order the medicine, before storming back into the hut. MC slept soundly on a futon, his breath rasping with every rise and fall of his chest. He had only until spring…
Jumin walked over to the loom, staring fully at the half-finished blanket. They would need high price and high quality in order to afford the elixir for MC. But it didn’t matter. He could afford any price if it was for his beloved. Nails shredded into skin, and Jumin tore the top layer of flesh off his forearm. Blood dripped onto the floor and splattered onto his feet. But no longer did he hold human skin. Instead in his grasp was a patch of ebony fur.
He began to weave his pelt into the cloth.
MC trudged onward, limbs numb and skin freezing. The weighted pack on his back made him want to just give up, however he was so close to home. Just over the ridge. Just over the ridge and onto the next plateau—he would be able to see his hut.
But the overnight snowfall had brutally hindered his progress. Knee high, he hadn’t brought the right tools to make the trek.
Snowflakes clung to the fringe of his bangs and his eyelashes. The white puffs dampened his clothes and froze his skin.
A distressed yowl paused him and he felt his body grow rigid. Not from the biting cold, however. The pit of his stomach heated and he felt his nerves spike through his throat to his jaw. He clenched his hands.
Again another howl, followed by another and another. And as MC listened, he realized that it wasn’t a cry of hunting or anger—but of pain. Fear.
His own. Its own. Whatever it was.
He crept closer to the sound, the snow crunching underneath the soles of his feet. Trying to keep his teeth from chattering, his jowl muscles pulled taut. He inhaled deeply.
And exhaled.
A large feline thrashed and scattered mounds of snow as it tore and tore and tore at a hunting trap which had snagged its paw. Deep red stained the snow, and as MC snuck closer he could see the gouges that marred the creature’s limb from all of its escape attempts.
“What a painful death for a beautiful creature…” MC stared ruefully at the animal. It was large, far larger than any cat he had seen. With long pointed ears and a wavering fluffy tail, the creature was all ebony fur and rippling muscle underneath.
A hunter. A predator. A carnivore stuck in a trap.
Swallowing slowly, MC stepped close, carefully and tediously. All the while he called out gently to the creature, trying to calm it.
The animal whipped around and faced him with a snarl before giving pause and staring almost incredulously.
Beautiful steel eyes observed him, and he was almost taken aback at how much knowing was hidden behind the glassy surface.
“I’m going to get you out,” he murmured, never breaking the contact.
The cat’s lips pulled back and it bared it’s teeth while it hissed. But MC crouched lower, came closer, made himself smaller. He reached for the iron cord, a simple deer trap designed to tighten with continued struggle. He had no idea who left a trap like this out on such a terrible day…but he loosened the knot, undid the chord—and screamed when the cat pounced on him and dug its claws into his shoulders.
It growled and snarled,and he squeezed his eyes shut. Alarm coursed through every vein and artery when he realized that this animal almost the size of his upper body was going to kill him. But a moment passed, and then a breath, and a second, and a minute. Nothing else transpired.
He opened his eyes, very warily. The animal observed him with a narrowed curiosity. He blinked. It blinked.
Then in a sudden whorl of fur and snow, the creature bounded away—leaving MC flat on his back.
He picked up his hat and flattened out his robes, wobbling the rest of the way home. When he arrived and put down his pack at the front step of his hovel, he tried to ignore the raven-haired man sitting at the stoop. The stranger radiated magic, not that he would say out loud that he had noted such.
“Won’t you invite me in? It’s rude to make a visitor wait,” the man rumbled, his arms still crossed over his chest and his eyes still closed.
“I don’t make it a habit of inviting odd people into my home.” MC raised his brow but opened the door.
The man looked up with a slight, Cheshire smirk. “My name is Jumin. And now we are not unacquainted.”
“Well… how long do you plan on visiting?”
“However long you’ll permit my presence. ”
MC smiled.
...
Claws grew from fingertips. Fingers hardly moved. Arms and legs were wrapped tightly with bandages.
Jumin curled up beside MC’s side, his wrapped-up hand brushing along a gaunt cheek. His husband was fading, and he couldn’t even feel the fluttering warmth beneath the layers of cloth that bound his wounds. The blue and silver blanket, Jumin clutched that with his free hand as his bottom lip wobbled.
“Would you still love me,” Jumin whispered and his voice cracked. “If I were no longer human—if I turned into a monster to protect you?” His fangs poked painfully inside his mouth.
MC’s every inhale and exhale wheezed past dry lips. His eyelashes fluttered.
Gripping his creation, Jumin stood on one quavering leg and then the other. His body rocked violently back and forth but he forced himself to take a step after step after step until he was sprinting. Flying across earth and fresh breathing grass as if he were weightless. His first task was to sell the blanket, the second to get the medicine.
Hurry, hurry, there’s no time left.
He skidded through the merchant’s plaza, begging for anyone to take a look at his work. A few glowered at him while others showed concern. It wasn’t until he reached the closest stall that he garnered the attention he needed.
“Young man, let me look at your wares.” A trader called. He was dressed finely in gorgeous robes, his pale blue hair pulled back in a ponytail. An envoy for the royal household.
Jumin stumbled hopefully towards the vendor, all but shoving the blanket into the stranger’s hands. The appraising look and guarded touch that skimmed over the cloth set his stomach on fire with anxiety. But he kept quiet and observed. Fleeting hints of smile, a small twinge of the eyebrow—the vendor was at least pleased.
“I buy and sell high quality art,” the seller explained. “Our rulers are quite the fanatics when it comes to such, so I’ve seen my fair share of well-made pieces.This, however, is the most beautiful tapestry I’ve laid my eyes upon.”
Jumin shook. “That. That is my life’s work.”
There was a brief flicker of understanding on the other man’s face, before he lightly brushed his hand along the surface. The cloth rippled with an opalescent shimmer, as if made of gemstone. Displaying flashes of blue, silver, and ebony at their finest.
“I can see the story you’ve so painstakingly woven.” The merchant dug into his coinpurse. “Ten gold pieces.”
“Twelve.” Jumin leaned forward, his face seriously drawn.
The man nodded. “Fair and deal. Your price, my friend.”
Jumin couldn’t find the words to thank him. So he promised more business. He promised more cloth. He took the money and bolted for the doctor’s. Bandages were beginning to unravel. Fur and blood were seeping from skin.
“Medicine!” Jumin all but screamed when he arrived.
The doctor retrieved the item, a small parcel, and handed it to the incensed man. Jumin shoved the gold into the old man’s hand, and ran away.
Fur and blood, fur and blood, all of it staining further.
Jumin’s feet flew over freshly reborn land, spring entering her height of season. Flowers bloomed and trees blossomed, yet he could only muster the strength to make it home.
Time was up, for both he and MC.
He could see the hut in the distance. His heart thundering in his chest. Feline eyes narrowed and angular face scrunched in determination. But he fell. His body collapsed as his wounds reminded him over and over, tying him in crimson threads and restricting every movement.
He yowled out in pain, his voice the furthest from human. Please…please…I’m so close.
Jumin sobbed.
“Did you know,” a frail and familiar voice whispered.
His vision snapped up to see MC crouching down before him. A healthy glow warmed his husband’s cheeks, and his body looked strong and sturdy.
W…what?
“Don’t you know,” MC gathered Jumin into his arms, burying his face into the crook of his neck. “I will love you whether you are human or not. I have since the day I first saw your ebony pelt against the bleached snow, your form flitting when you ran free.”
His arms smudged and smeared blood and fur and human life between them as he drew them together, held them together.
Jumin grasped onto to the embrace—trembling—the medicine safe in his hold.
44 notes · View notes
fictional-lover01 · 5 years
Text
Slashers Reaction to S/O being abused by Ex
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Brahms:
- First; why is the peasant in his home in the first place?!?
- 2nd: HOW FUCKING DARE THEY TOUCH Y/N???
“Fucking run from me?! Stupid bitch!”
He’d be so pissed you wouldn’t believe; worse than when Greta left him. He was simply minding his business, crawling through the walls as usual when he suddenly heard you wailing, cries echoing in the large estate. Silently and quickly he raced through the walls to the room you were in, watching as this stranger held your wrist tightly, tears cascading down you cheeks as you held the doll securely away from this bastard. They’d be yelling at you and threatening you. This stranger would hit you again, further angering the sweaty wall boi. Taking a pipe he’d burst through the wooden walls, startling both you and the stranger. Your ex would pull you behind them as they shout at Brahms, asking who they were and why the hell he came out of the wall. Of course Brahmsy wasn’t gonna respond to a peasant like them, with a small head tilt he’d use the little kids voice to order the abuser to leave before he’d unleash all hell. Now this can go 2 ways;
One:
The abuser leaves; via confused and frightened, willing to leave you to the sweaty man
Two:
Bitch dies; your ex will be beat to death, or stabbed
Either way you’d watched frigten and scared, holding the Brahms doll close to you as you curled into a ball. Or...you’d try to run like Greta but of course Brahms isn’t gonna let that happen. No matter what Brahms will protect you, you’re his and only his. After the whole ordeal he’d hug you, making sure you felt secure in his arms and promising to alway protect you .
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LeatherFace: Thomas
Whoooo boy....
This big boy will fucking hunt the person who dare hurt his S/O in any form of way. If said asshole were with you the time you met he’d make sure your bf/gf turns to your dead ex; otherwise if the person who hurt you just so happened to get info of you traveling down through texas or you moving to texas and follows trying to get you to come back with them they’re in for a HUGE surprise. There’s multiple scenarios that could happen but one outcome; if your ex finds you and starts trying to get you to follow them back to a more civilized town and is threatening and/or hurting you, all you have to do is call for Thomas and that boy will being racing out of wherever he was with his chainsaw. However if he sees you being physically abused by a stranger he’s gonna remember the times where he was physically and verbally abused by others when he was younger which is going to set him off, how dare they even breathe the same air as you? No matter what if he sees the person who mistreated an angel such as yourself he will bring down a rain of painful torture but first, he’ll trap the perpetrator then attend to tou and make sure you ok before heading downstairs to deal with the asshole.
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Michael Myers
Having grown up w/out full emotions Michael only understands few and it mostly revolves around the voices in his head; anger. Having taken a liking to you he will not let anyone take what belongs to him and you’re his, so if he sees the person who had done harm to you he wouldn’t hesitate to stab them repeatedly right then and there. But if said enemy happens to enter your house and he isn’t around expect when he gets home (either your place or his) that he won’t stop trying to find out who hurt you, no one can hurt you you’re not their property. If Michael comes home or goes to your place and sees you all bruised and practically broken he will check you before hunting down the guy/girl that did it then it will be a slow death. If Micahel catches the person in action he’ll go into full blown murder mode, don’t stop him don’t even go near him bc he’ll be focused on spill their guts out onto the floor and if you even touch him in the slightest his anger will blind him and he might hurt you just as your ex did but worse. After he calms down he will check over you, getting supplies to tend to your injuries before dealing with the body.
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Freddy
This nightmare boi will see you all beat to a pulp when you go to sleep and enter the dream world, once he sees that he’ll be focused on you, tending to any injuries and allowing you to vent to him. Afterwards though you’re gonna have to tell him who did it and if you don’t he’ll just search through your mind and find the person that hurt you. Trust me, when you wake up you’ll find on the news about a death of someone you happen to know, your ex. And it’ll be a gruesome scene for the police. Freddy would make sure your safe before doing anything of course and he wants you to know that if anything like that happens again to call for him, he’ll come running for you.
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GhostFace
Stu:
For Stu he’d easily confront the asshole who hurt you, if he deems the asshole worthless (most likely) while discussing it with Billy he’ll likely plan a slow painful death for your abuser. Like he won’t hesitate to take action ASAP. Of course after getting the person away from you he’ll take care of you first, tending to any injuries you received from them and making sure you feel safe and content. He’d make you stay at his place for the night, and while you are asleep Billy and him would go find the jerk that hurt you. Of course Stu would bring a painful death while Billy is there as back up but Stu is more focused on the guy dying quickly rather than prolonging the dudes death.
Billy:
Billy, oof...if he caught the person in the act he’d probably beat the shit outta them before being oulled away. Threatening the person who dare hurt you, then he’d turn his attention to your curled up form, bruises scattered across your body, a busted lip and a swollen eye. Just the idea of the asshole causes him to get angrier, he obviously takes you home and cares for you till you fall asleep. Once he knows you’re out he’s getting into Ghostface’s outfit and leaving to find the asshole, unlike Stu, Billy wouldn’t call Stu as backup. No he’s gonna take care of the dick himself and he’s gonna make sure no one hurts you again. The police are gonna see the persons guts sprawled everywhere, and probably an apology in blood on the walls and exposing the dead corpse’s secret of abusing others.
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Chucky/Charles
The person who hurt you is most likely gonna experience a mental torture first before actually dying. Your ex will be in for a surprise, a Good Guy doll? They’d probably chuck it away or keep it, either way Chucky is gonna cut off every finger, toe, gouge out their eyes, cut their tongue out and slowly bleed them out, no one fucks with his S/O. He’s determined to end the fucker who hurt you so much, he’ll also treat you to something nice in turn for putting up w/ the asshole and himself bc he knew you deserved better.
Ok, so my content will be random spews here and there. Also sorry some characters were cut short, I sometimes lose motivation for some characters sometimes but hopefully next time I post smth its a bit better. I also dont know what to write sooo yea. If you got suggestions I’ll take them but no guarantee I can do all/get them done soon. Pm me so I know what y’all wanna see next. I do anime/movies characters sooo yeeet
2K notes · View notes
meat-husband · 5 years
Note
What about head canons (for everyone if you don’t mind) with the s/o comforting them when they’re upset?
Okay, I know you just asked for headcanons, but I did a little more than that :p This was banged out in about 2 hours, so hopefully there are no mistakes. Also, if the formatting is weird blame mobile.
Brahms
• Depending on the situation, he starts out more angry than sad. Screaming and yelling, throwing things around and breaking whatever he can before that manic energy runs out.
• This is especially dangerous if you’re what upset him. If it’s something small, he probably won’t actually hurt you. He’ll threaten to, and you know they aren’t empty threats either, but he won’t do it without cause.
• If it is something serious, you’re in for it. Breaking the rules, trying to make friends, trying to leave him - any of these is going to put you in a bad spot. He wouldn’t hesitate to seriously injure you in the heat of the moment, even if he’d regret it later, but showing that you aren’t completely devoted to him would lessen any positive feelings he’s got for you.
• Once he’s tired himself out, or run out of things to break, or feels like you’ve been punished enough, depending on the situation, it’s cryin’ time.
• He will wrap all his limbs around you and just sob. Doesn’t matter if you’re on the floor, in the bed, wherever it goes down is where you’re gonna be for the next few hours while you become a human tissue.
• The best thing to do is just let him cry it out, hold him as tight as you can and try to reassure him. You love him, you’re going to take care of him, you’re not going to leave him - the more passionately you express these things the better he’s going to feel.
• This is probably the most honesty you’re ever going to see from him. If you can understand anything he’s saying through the tears, he’ll admit to being frightened, being lonely, being so desperate for you to stay that he’d do anything, even if it hurts.
• After it’s all over, he’s going to pass the fuck out. All that screaming and crying takes energy and he’s exhausted, so it’s your job to get him into bed and comfy. You need to clean up the mess he’s made, but that’s going to have to wait because it will just upset him all over again if you don’t get in bed with him.
• He will 100% never reference these outbursts afterward and will get mad if you mention them. Oh, the dining room looks like a localized tornado passed through? The living room is covered in shards of broken ceramic and glass? Shreds of expensive paintings are everywhere? Who knows how that happened, guess we’ll never know.
The slam of a door woke you, followed by hurried footsteps pounding down the hall. You sit up in bed, groggy and still half asleep, looking around your darkened room in alarm. Your half open eyes are blinded when the door is thrown open, letting in the bright hall light, followed by a tall, manic figure.
He runs to your bed but stops at the edge, doubled over with arms wrapped around his stomach like he’s been wounded. Deep, wrenching sobs come from him, body convulsing with each breath.
“Brahms, what’s going on?”
You’re more than a little scared, reaching for his arms to try and pull them away from his body, afraid to see what he’s covering. He lets you move his arms, leaning forward to grip the sheets with dirty hands instead. There is nothing that you can see, no blood on his white shirt, but he’s still gasping for air between cries and it doesn’t calm you at all to see no sign of injury.
“Honey, what is it?”
You grab his shoulders and pull him in, cold porcelain pressed against your skin as you put your arms around him. With a few gentle tugs he slides clumsily onto the bed next to you, curling in on himself instead of returning your hug.
That worries you more than anything, and you grip him tighter, pulling him as close as you can. He’s shaking with the force of his sobs, tears running down his neck from under the mask. You want to take it off, to wipe his face and feel his skin, but you don’t dare let that thought show in your actions.
He’s speaking, but through his gasping and crying you can’t make out any words. You tuck his face into the crook of your neck, one hand buried in his greasy hair and the other grabbing a handful of his cardigan to keep him close. You try to soothe him, whispering his name softly into the ear of his mask and pressing shaky kisses to its cheek.
You hold him through the worst of the sobbing until finally he’s able to speak clearly, albeit in a weak, raspy voice.
“What’s wrong?” You whisper into his hair, rocking him against you chest. “What’s happened?”
“Nightmare,” he whispers back in a poor imitation of his usual child’s voice, muffled against the mask. “It hurt.”
You think again of his arms crossed over his stomach, bent over in pain and screaming. There is a scar there, you know, not one of the burns marking his face and sides, but a pink bubble of tissue. You don’t know where it came from, being obviously different from the old ones, but you wonder if that wasn’t the cause of his nightmare.
“It’s alright now,” you murmur. “I’m here, and I’ll keep you safe.” You feel his arms wrapping around you, finally returning your embrace as he usually would, so you continue to speak, hoping to reassure him.
“Nightmares can’t hurt you,” a sniffle and hiccup against your throat makes you squeeze him tighter, “not anymore.”
Michael
• For the most part they’re going to happen away from you, so you’re not likely to see any temper tantrums from Michael, but you’ll have to clean up the aftermath. They’re not very common either, mostly because it takes so much to get him that angry in the first place.
• He’d try to contain himself physically, locking himself in the bathroom or anywhere else closed in and small. It’s mostly to keep you from running in and fussing over him, but the isolation helps him focus.
• You’re going to have some broken furniture, that’s for sure. If you’re lucky it’s just the bathroom mirror, but anything he has to walk past to get there is in danger of being thrown across the room. And it’s not just little things, like end tables and vases, he will straight up smash couches and coffee tables to pieces if it’s in his path.
• The loud, violent anger doesn’t last long, just until he gets himself holed up somewhere. He doesn’t wear himself out, but just stops. He’ll stay locked in the bathroom for hours, ignoring everything else.
• He’s not really thinking about what he’s doing, it’s just his body on autopilot while his mind is busy, so he’s not sure where any of those cuts came from. It’s almost like being drugged, completely unable to make your body do anything or being unaware of anything but your own thoughts.
• When he does come out, you’re going to have some clean up work to do. It’s probably just his hands, sliced up from the broken mirror, but the cuts are deep. He’ll sit there completely silent and dazed as you get him fixed up. You can say whatever you want, since you’re not going to get a reaction anyways, but it’s hard to tell if he’s even listening.
• He’ll go right back to normal afterwards, like nothing happened. He will let you look after any injuries without complaint, but that’s about as cooperative as he’ll be about it.
Your bookshelf is in pieces, the big, heavy thing overturned and books heaped under it, spines bent and pages loose. It lays at the bottom of the stairs, a large gouge in the wall where a corner took out a chunk of plaster. It’s the only thing out of place when you come home from work, and you know what it means.
You drop everything you’re carrying by the door, not even removing your coat before rushing upstairs, side stepping over the mess. The door to the bathroom is open, thankfully, a big bloody smear over the door frame, and inside is exactly what you expected.
Michael is sitting on the edge of the bathtub, hands on his knees and eyes on the floor. His hands are red and soaked with blood, dripping into the fabric of his clothes and onto the floor. The mask is on, as always, but with smears around the neck that make you think he’s just recently put it back on. There is no blood around his neck or collar, so you assume his face is fine under there.
You pause in the doorway, letting out a huff at the sight of your broken mirror and stained porcelain, but you don’t say anything. There would be no response, and you’re not sure you could help with whatever it is that sets him off like this anyways. The only thing you can do to help is patch him up, wash away the blood and hope that next time isn’t worse.
There is a medical kit under the sink, hidden away for just this kind of event, so you shed your coat in the hall and get to work, carefully opening sterilized packaging. He doesn’t react when you gently peel one hand from his knee, the sluggish bleeding telling you that it has been a little while at least since these wounds were opened. You know the cleaning must sting and hurt, but he lets you do it with no complaint, the only sign that he’s aware of your presence coming when you ask for the other hand and he readily holds it out for you. You’re not sure how long it takes, but you’re exhausted at the end of it, too tired now to clean up the rest of the mess.
“Come on,” You sigh, getting up and tossing your used supplies into the sink to deal with later. “I feel like mac and cheese for dinner.”
Bubba
• Anger or sadness doesn’t matter, there’s just going to be a lot of noise. Screaming, squealing, things being knocked over, entire tables being overturned. There’s not much actual damage but it’s going to sound awful.
• It doesn’t last long before he’s in a puddle of tears. Whatever has him upset plus all the trouble he’s going to be in for making such a mess is just going to overwhelm him. He won’t know what to do with himself so he’ll just cry.
• He’ll cry until he can’t breathe, hyperventilating and gasping. You’ve just got to let him ride this part out, offering small sips of water between breaths and rubbing his back gently. Don’t let him try to move or speak, that will just make his breathing harder.
• You’re going to have to pick him up and get him calmed down, otherwise he’s just going to be a mess until someone else shows up to make it worse. Nubbins doesn’t realize that his manic, jittery movements aren’t very comforting, but he will offer to pitch in cleaning up the mess. That goes a long way to getting Bubba calmed down at least.
• Help him get everything put back together and by this point he’s probably forgotten what had him so upset in the first place. He’ll be worn out after all the drama, so a quick break, or even better, a nap, is needed. Crying gives him headaches, so it will take a lot out of him.
• Once you get him upstairs and in your room, the waterworks will start right back up. A lot of time is spent convincing him that you’re not mad, no one’s mad, everything’s fine, until he finally starts believing it.
It wasn’t until you heard the wailing that you realized anything was wrong. The thuds and bangs from downstairs weren’t unusual, not with Nubbins and Bubba both left unattended. They tended to make a mess on their own, but you couldn’t keep an eye on them all the time you figured, so a quick nap upstairs wasn’t likely to hurt anything.
Once you heard the cries, though, you knew you were wrong. You rushed downstairs, still in just your shirt and underwear, turning into the living room to see Bubba on the floor, clutching a hand to his chest, big tears running over the edge of his mask. The armchair is overturned, the little table next to it wobbly with a broken leg. Nubbins was dancing around him, arms waving and shushing, like an older sibling trying to calm the younger to keep from getting in trouble.
“What’s going on down here?” You snap, hands on your hips. Nubbins turns his frantic dance in your direction, rattling off an explanation that you don’t believe for a second.
“It wasn’t my fault! He, he hurt himself, not me!”
Your eyes narrow, but you don’t push it. Instead you sit on the floor, pulling Bubba’s hands into your own and inspecting them. One finger has a few red indents, shaped suspiciously like teeth marks. It’s clearly nothing serious and the marks will fade in a few hours, but you can’t dismiss it with how upset Bubba is.
You turn your glare back to his brother. “What’d I tell you about roughhousing in the house? And what’re you bitin’ him for?”
“Ain’t my fault!” He repeats, flailing angrily. “I told ‘em, I told ‘em, but he, he knocked the table over! That’s what hurt ‘em!”
You’re sure that’s a lie, but you turn to Bubba anyway, patting his big arm and rubbing his shoulder. “Honey, what happened to your finger, huh?”
You can’t make any sense of what his noises and pointing mean, you’re not the best at understanding his speech most days, but between the squeals and crying you don’t pick up on anything. He waves his hands, pointing between himself, the furniture, and Nubbins rapidly, babbling and wailing. Whatever it means, though, seems to displease his brother.
“Aw, f-fuck you! It wasn’t my fault!”
“Alright, that’s enough!” You step in before a fight can break out. “Whatever happened is done, so let’s get this cleaned up, or Drayton will make you both sleep out on the porch tonight and I ain’t gonna stop him.”
At the mention of their older brother Nubbins scoffs, but Bubba’s eyes go wide and he scrambles up, whimpering and pulling at his hair. You take his hands again, holding them in your own to keep them still, and look around the room at what needed to be done. The chair was fine, it just needed to be put upright, but the broken leg on the table would be harder to fix. The items that had been on it, an ashtray and a few miscellaneous bones, were thankfully unbroken.
“Bubba, don’t you worry about it, we’ll get it fixed up.” You pat his arm again. “Go ahead and put that chair right. I don’t know about the table, we mighhave to switch it with one from upstairs-“
“Hey, I-I can fix it!” Nubbins hurried to gather the little table up, swinging the broken leg around as he stood. “I got some, some good bones, and I bet-“ he turned the thing over, surveying it closely, “yeah, I could f-fix it right up!”
“Great!” You gave him a thankful smile. Drayton might fuss, but he wouldn’t object to Nubbins decorating another piece of furniture. Much better than him finding something had been broken, at least.
You watch him hurry off, cackling to himself, and turn to look at Bubba. His eyes are still wet and he’s sniffling, but the crying has stopped. You give him a soft smile and tug on his hands.
“Let’s get upstairs, I was in the middle of a nap.”
Thomas
•*chainsaw revving noises*
• Honestly his go to stress relief is messing around with the saw, preferably with someone on the other end of it. If he’s just angry, Hoyt will get some poor traveler strung up in the old barn (or a feral dog if there’s no one else around) so he can take it out on someone.
• If there’s something more than just some anger issues, though, it’s harder to deal with. He tries not to break anything or hurt anyone, but he’s used to hurting himself. It’s less focused on his face now, but he’ll carve at anything he can when he’s upset.
• Most of the time you’ll know something is wrong when the basement door is locked. Hoyt will go check on him, but there’s not much to do. Being around others will just agitate him more, so waiting him out is what you have to do.
• Usually it will be best to leave him alone, but eventually he’ll wait till everyone is asleep to come wake you up and have his wounds cleaned up. Once he’s wrapped up, get him in bed and cuddle up, petting his hair. Talking about it will only make it worse, but some physical affection and well needed sleep will have him mostly back to normal when you wake up.
The creaking of springs wakes you, followed by the mattress dipping to the side and rolling you towards the center. You reach an arm out, feeling for whoever is behind you, landing on something slick and warm. With a confused grunt you pull yourself up, now tangled in the sheets, and try to focus your eyes in the dark.
You’re almost surprised to see Thomas next to you, half sitting on the edge of the bed. His head is down, avoiding your eyes, the long hair of his mask shielding his face from you. His top half is bare, mottled with old scars and quite a few new ones, arms cradled in his lap and bleeding. You hurry to get out of bed, kicking your legs to free yourself from the sheets.
“Oh, darlin’, what’d you do to yourself?” You whisper, coming around the bed and flicking on the lamp to get a better look at him. He doesn’t look at you still, hunching in on himself as if trying to hide from you. He’s covered in blood, all of it old and half dried, but for once it’s actually his own. Large gashes run down his sides and arms, skin stuck together with tacky blood, and bruises forming on his hands and knuckles. A particularly bad cut on the curve of his stomach is still bleeding freely, worsening the stains on his old pants.
“C’mon and get in the bathroom, I’ll get you cleaned up.”
He wouldn’t have come upstairs if he wasn’t ready to be tended to, so you ease him up from the mattress and walk him down the hall. The water from the sink runs brown for a few minutes, so you wait it out, taking a clean cloth and patting dry whatever blood you can. You notice now that his mask is torn, the stitched flesh coming apart at the seams, clumps of hair sliding away from the scalp. Lifting his chin, you pat the cheeks of his mask clean anyways, turning away only to wet the cloth.
“You ready for bed?” You ask as you work, careful to avoid the big cuts. Those would have to be cleaned up tomorrow, when Mama or Hoyt could stitch them closed.
Slowly, Tommy gives you a hesitant nod, finally bringing his eyes up from the floor but not looking directly at you. His hands are gripping his knees tightly, and you’re not sure if your movements hurt or he’s still tense from his time alone.
“That’s good, cause I missed you, ya know.” You rinse the cloth, flushing all the red out until it was only tinted pink. You’ve gotten as much blood off of him as you can get right now, but you still run the cool cloth over his chest and shoulders, waiting until his heavy breathing evens out.
“It ain’t the same, tryin’ to fall asleep without your snorin’.” You grin and he finally meets your eyes for a second, a tiny tilt to his mouth pulling his lips upward. “You’d think it’d be easier, huh, but I guess I’m used to it now.”
You turn off the sink, leaving the dirty cloth folded over the edge, but don’t let him stand just yet. Pulling his face against your neck, you wrap your arms around his head and shoulders, pressing kisses into the torn scalp of his mask. You haven’t seen him without it in so long that the details of his face in your memory are almost fuzzy, and you desperately want to look at him without it again, but you don’t ask. His hands settle on your thighs and he leans into the hug, nuzzling closer.
“You’re gonna have to get a new one of these,” you say, tugging at the ties on the back of his mask. “But that’ll wait till tomorrow.”
Jason
• Whatever has him upset isn’t going to be alive much longer.
• Probably the easiest to deal with, he’s not really prone to anger or sadness outside of dealing with campers, so you pretty much never see it. He’ll deal with whoever it is before he comes home, so by the time you see him it’s all over.
• So he doesn’t really get upset otherwise, but he can get a little huffy. You want to go into town? Want to visit family? Do anything that requires you stepping over the invisible property line he’s enforced? That’s gonna be a problem.
• He’ll hide things you need, lock doors and windows, stand stubbornly in front of your car, anything to inconvenience your leaving. He won’t outright force you to stay or forbid you leaving, but he can’t go with you and there’s a lot that could happen when he’s not around.
• No amount of reassurance or previous uneventful trips is going to change his mind, btw. If you’re not in the house then he’s 5 feet away or less at all times, so he’s got a bit of separation anxiety when it comes to you going anywhere. He’ll pace the road where you left like a dog waiting at the door.
• God forbid anything does happen while you’re away, because the slightest scratch will send him into overdrive. This paper cut wouldn’t have happened if you’d just stayed home, you know!
“This is very childish of you, you know,” you say loudly, head stuck in a closet as you rummage through the dusty contents. “I’m still going!” You’re not sure if he can hear you, lumbering around outside, unpacking the car as quickly as you can fill it up. With a growl of frustration you retreat from the closet, hair full of cobwebs and dust, without the item you were looking for.
“Taking my keys won’t stop me, I’ll just walk!” You state, throwing up your hands. In moments, loud footsteps are thundering across the floor towards you, reaching you just as you step out of the hall. You meet him there, arms cross and a stern look on your face.
For his part, Jason doesn’t look intimidated by your glare at all. Hands in fists at his side, chest heaving with every breath, he blocks your way to the front door, towering over you. You frown, tapping your foot, but you know you can’t just wait him out.
“Okay, look, maybe you don’t need to eat, but I’ve got to go to the grocery store,” you’ve explained this before, but apparently ‘I need to eat or I’ll die’ isn’t a convincing enough argument. “It’s like a two hour trip at most, and I made it back just fine last time!”
Jason doesn’t move, still solidly blocking your path. You give him a few moments to comply, but when it becomes clear that he’s not going to budge you realize you’re going to have to force it. You steel yourself, knowing that it’s going to be difficult to make this work, but if you have to eat another roasted squirrel you’re going to throw up.
“Jason, I’m going.” You say it as firmly as you can, trying to put as much authority into the words as you can muster. “You can be good and let me go into town, or I’ll go anyways and I won’t bring you anything special back.”
You eye him for a moment, hoping your threat has worked. He’s always heavily resisted you leaving for any reason, but you’ve been sure to bring him back something each time as a reward.
You see him sigh and a flash of victory floods you momentarily, sure that you’ve won this time, but when he falls to his knees your heart sinks. Oh, no, you think desperately, quickly caught up in his arms. He’s tall enough that the face of his mask is pressed firmly against your chest and collar, arms around your hips bringing you closer. He huffs and groans against you, unable to speak but begging in his own way. You gently place your hands on his shoulders, knowing you need to break away before the puppy dog eyes draw you in, but unable to.
“Come on, it’s not that bad,” you mutter, but your arms are pulling his head closer rather than pushing him away. “It’s just for a little bit.”
He tilts his head to look up at you, cheek still pressed to your chest. Here it comes, you think, already knowing you’ve lost this round. Once you lock eyes with his, teary and sad, you know you’re not going to be making that trip today, no matter how much your stomach protests.
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ma-sulevin · 4 years
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I really have nothing to say for myself.
Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy Rating: E Warnings: Canon-typical violence, but nothing particularly explicit I don’t think Word Count: 6576, chapter eight of fourteen (I think).
Read it on AO3 instead and say nice things.
---
Boomer finds her before anyone else does. He flops right down by her side and heaves a great sigh, like he knows what she’s gone through and he’s tired of it too, and she lets her bare feet soak in the water of Clagett Bay while she pets his belly.
It’s peaceful, sitting in the quiet and listening to the birds singing and the occasional splash of a fish rising too close to the surface to get a bug, and if she was any other person sitting here under any other circumstances, she’d be able to relax.
But she’s not — she’s Mattie Covington, ex-EMT, junior deputy, would-be savior of Hope County, and she’s fucking furious.
She’s smoked through most of her cigarettes by the time Sharky shows up with Hurk at his side, feeling jittery and nauseated and fit to fucking burst. Sharky’s hopping out of the Jeep before it’s really parked, jogging over to her on his long legs while she stubs out her cigarette on the dock and hauls herself to her feet.
He wraps her up in a hug that first knocks her back a step and then lifts her off her feet, a hug so tight she can’t breathe but doesn’t care because she hadn’t realized how much she missed the lingering scent of sweat and kerosene until she has her face buried in the collar of his hoodie. She gasps out a sob, clenches her teeth to hold it back, unwilling to start crying now when they have so much more to do.
When Sharky finally puts her down, he only puts enough space between them to cup her jaw in his big hands. His eyes — blue like the Seeds’ but so much kinder, full of so much more warmth and love — scour her face like he can figure out everything she’s been through just by taking stock of the bruises, and then he kisses her right in the center of her forehead and she has to fight back the tears all over again.
“You good, chica?”
She shrugs a little. “I’m all in one piece.” It’s about all she can say at this point. She’s alive and uninjured beyond bruises and sore muscles, but she’s hungry and tired and so pissed she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She’s practically vibrating with it.
“C’mon now, don’t hog the deputy!” Hurk appears in Mattie’s line of vision, bouncing off to Sharky’s side. “It’s my turn for a hug!”
Sharky glances over his shoulder at him then gives Mattie a searching look before he lets her go. He steps aside and lets her walk past him, arms up to hug Hurk around the neck. He hugs her back with as much enthusiasm as he does everything else, squeezing hard enough to crack her back as he lifts her off her feet too. He shakes her a little, makes her laugh, then puts her down. 
“You damn near gave me’n Sharky a heart attack!” He says, loud, like any of this is under her control. “You can’t be letting Jacob’s guys get to you like that. A person’s brain can only handle being washed so many times before it gets all soggy!”
That’s not what she was expecting him to say, not even a little, and all the annoyance in her whooshes out in a burst of laughter that surprises all three of them. Boomer yips and jumps up to put his front paws on her chest, knocking her back until Sharky catches her with his hands on her shoulders and starts to laugh too.
She wipes her eyes as she catches her breath. “You’ll just have to help me bring him down, then. Think we can handle it?”
Hurk beams at her and rests his hands on his hips. “Oh, absolutely. I’m ready to go. What’s the plan, boss?”
She doesn't know. But she knows who does.
---
Eli’s suggestion for breaking down Jacob’s hold on the mountain is not that dissimilar to what Dutch told her to do in the valley: burn it to the ground. He gives her all the information they have about the cult’s activities in the Whitetails, the outposts and the supply lines and the wolf beacons, marking each one for her on a park map liberated from the Visitor’s Center.
Wheaty asks her to find him more music stashed throughout the mountains, in people’s cabins and in their bunkers, and she agrees with a laugh. He’s a cute kid and he doesn’t deserve to see all this shit happening around him. If he wants records to play over a Whitetail Militia radio station, then he’s going to get records to play over a Whitetail Militia radio station even if it kills her in the process (and, she knows, it probably will).
Jude asks about Staci again, eyes red-rimmed, and they cry together when Mattie says he’s still locked up. Jude doesn’t need to know the exact details. Staci’s doing what he can, and what he wants to tell Jude when Mattie finally gets him out of there is his business.
And she’s definitely going to get him out of there, no matter how many times she dies on the way.
Sharky is forbidden from using his flamethrower in the mountains with the woods so dry, and he pouts about it for as long as it takes him to come up with a plan to do as much damage as he can otherwise. He cheers up when Mattie promises he can use explosives on the wolf beacons, backing up her promise at the first one they find just south of the den.
The sound and sight of the explosion, and the peggie fight they get into afterwards, is worth it to see Sharky’s delighted cheer and little dance. These are the things she has to focus on if she doesn’t want to completely fucking lose it.
She can’t rescue Staci if she completely fucking loses it.
They find records here and there, and Mattie dutifully piles them up in the back of the Jeep. There are dozens, albums and artists she’s never heard of but that Hurk and Sharky occasionally recognize. Her music knowledge contains a huge blind spot from growing up in such a conservative place — basically everything before she became an EMT is a big empty space.
She doesn’t mention this to the boys.
She just lets them have their fun.
They don’t hear anything from Jacob again until after they take back the PIN-K0 radar station, blowing up several of his helicopters and leaving them to burn on the surrounding mountainside. Eli cheers her on over the radio, praising her, saying people are joining the Whitetails in greater numbers now that she’s out here giving them hope (“Actions speak louder than words!” he says, and she listens silently as she washes peggie blood off her face in the PIN-K0 bathroom), and as soon as he’s done encouraging her, Jacob takes his turn.
His voice is low over the radio, gravely, and she grimaces while she stands there listening. She crosses her arms and leans against the skin with her hip, turning the volume down so there’s less chance of Sharky or Hurk overhearing whatever the fuck is about to come out of Jacob Seed’s mouth.
“The human brain is a fascinating thing,” he says, tone so fuckin’ casual like they’re having this conversation over lunch. “Once you start poking around in there, it’s surprising what you get it to do under the right circumstances. You’re familiar with the term ‘classical conditioning,’ right, Deputy?” He doesn’t wait for a response, and why would he? He doesn’t care. This is about intimidation, not about having a real conversation with her. “It’s when a conditioned stimulus, say a song, leads to a reflective response. In this case… to train, to kill, to sacrifice.”
Well… okay. That’s fucking forboding. She tries not to think about what he’s training her for, but there are honestly only so many things. If he doesn’t want her at his side like he’s got Staci, then…
“You managed to escape for a little bit, but whenever I want, I can have you back here with me. But you’ve got time to play your little games; I’ll let you know when it’s time to come home. Only you…”
She wants to gag when he sings the first two words of that goddamn song, but she fights the impulse, swallowing hard as her mouth begins to water a bit. 
Eli said she’d been de-conditioned, but just hearing him say those words… Maybe she can get Wheaty to de-condition her again when she takes him all the records. He’ll probably do anything for her once he gets his hands on all these new albums.
Jacob doesn’t say anything else, and she doesn’t say anything back.
He doesn’t really want to hear what she has to say. He’s only interested in conditioning her for whatever he’s got planned and making her talk to Joseph to hear his fucking shitty life story.
She takes the radio with her and goes back to find Sharky and Hurk, who are already drinking while they wait for Eli’s boys to come take over the station. She joins them, drinking more slowly, and watches as they pass out in a snoring pile. 
She kisses Sharky’s forehead and brushes his messy hair away from his face, heart twisting when he smiles and murmurs her name in his sleep.
She’s just sitting on the side of the road when Jacob’s men come for her again. There’s no reason to put the boys in jeopardy this time.
---
She’s thoroughly unsurprised when she wakes up in Jacob’s cages, her brain fogged from who knows how many doses of bliss and her stomach sticking to her spine from hunger. Jacob’s methods have always been achingly simple: bliss, starvation, and dehydration, then the godawful simulation where she has to kill other captives and militia members alike (which unfortunately means more bliss).
She cannot wait to kill him.
She manages to turn her head to the side despite the aching, and the guy who was in her here with her last time is still here. He’s dead, and a wolf is gnawing on his leg, trying to pull him close enough to the bars to make a real meal out of him. She’s not scared or surprised, just jealous that the wolf gets to eat and she doesn’t.
She stares back up at the sky through the top of the cage and sighs.
If she’s awake now, she just has to wait until Jacob decides to show up.
He’s goddamn lucky she’s too hungry to fucking move. She wants to gouge his eyes out with her bare hands, maybe feed them to the wolves he keeps, maybe give them to Joseph as a present.
Is that too on the nose for Joseph, given his history of gouging people’s eyes out? Will he appreciate the stylistic choice?
She’s still thinking about this, staring up at the ice-blue sky, when she hears Staci’s quiet voice from near her feet. She pushes herself up onto her elbows, sweat breaking out on her forehead at the effort, and watches as he reaches between the bars with one hand to put a metal bowl full of… dog food? Undercooked ground beef? Something she’d normally never think of eating on the floor in front of her.
He gives her a wild look when she doesn’t move right away, pushing it forward once toward her.
She tries to remember what she’s seen on Naked and Afraid — a human body can go twenty-one days without food, but she doesn’t think it’s been quite that long. If she catches something from the food, that’ll dehydrate her, and she’s not keen on trying to fight off food poisoning or a parasite in the middle of Jacob’s camp.
He’s as likely to just dump her ass out in the woods as anything else if she gets sick, probably tell her that if she was strong enough she wouldn’t have gotten sick, like this is another one of his fucking Darwinian tests.
Staci’s not having it. “Eat!” he hisses, voice so low that no one in the other cages will be able to hear. He looks like shit, worse than she thinks she probably looks, and the rage she felt at Jacob a moment ago comes back full force. She uses it to push herself up and forward, aiming at grabbing Staci before he moves away from the bars, but he scurries back and stands up out of her reach.
“Staci, come—” she cuts herself off, snapping her teeth together when he shakes his head at her and assumes the same position he was in the last time she saw him, hands clasped together, shoulders back, head bowed. Jacob’s behind him, smirking, strutting up like he has all the time in the world like a goddamn fucking asshole.
This close, she can smell the meat, and her mouth waters again. She gives in and grabs a handful, intent on eating what she can before Jacob moves the rest of the way in and announces whatever he has planned for her.
She needs the strength, food poisoning be damned. Staying alive is more important.
She doesn’t know how much time she’ll get back if she does die, if the black white black will dump her back moments before death like usual or back to this point to eat the stupid food, or if starving to death instead of getting shot or strangled or stabbed or exploded will mean she’ll actually have to stay dead.
She doesn’t know the rules, but she’s not permanently dying because she thought she was too good to eat the food presented to her when shit got rough.
Half of it’s gone when Jacob sits down in front of the cage and fucking smirks at her.
“Seven days,” Jacob says, his voice the same cold drawl that always comes over the radio. “You must be hun gry .”
She glares at him and doesn’t respond.
Staci looks from her to Jacob and back again, hands clasped so hard his knuckles are white, then he takes a breath and moves to stand by Jacob’s side. Mattie keeps her eyes on him as she listens to Jacob’s monologue, watching as he picks up a knife and studies it before bringing the edge of it to Jacob’s neck.
Slit his throat, she wants to say, tries to tell him with her eyes, but he doesn’t look at her. 
“Did you know it takes ten days for civilization to collapse? Yup. You take away a man’s basic needs and he’ll revert to his primordial instincts in just ten days. It’s a difficult thing to understand unless you’ve lived it,” he adds, and Mattie wants to spit at him. What the fuck does he think she’s been doing?
“I was in Iraq during the first Gulf War,” he says, ignoring the dry scrape of Staci’s blade across his throat. “82nd Airborne, All-Americans, hoo-rah. One night, there was an ambush. Me’n this guy named Miller got separated from the unit, no food, no radio. Nearest base… two hundred klicks to the south, so we just start walkin’.”
Staci finishes tidying Jacob’s beard and goes to stand behind him again, hands clasped in front, head down. Mattie watches him instead of Jacob, doesn’t care whatever the fuck Jacob’s up to by telling her his sad fuckin’ backstory, just cares about how she’s going to get herself and Staci out of here at the same time.
“Well, by the third day I knew we were lost. Day six… ran out of water. You know what that’s like, don’tcha? Difficult to swallow.”
She does snap her gaze to him when he takes a long swig of water from a canteen and then spits it out just in front of her cage. Her lips are so dry she’s afraid they’re going to be permanently cracked, and he’s just spitting water for shits and giggles as part of his ongoing psychological torture experiment.
He might be the worst Seed.
“On the seventh day, Miller’s legs started going all wonky.” He moves in his chair to face her more directly, like he’s excited to tell this part of the story and wants to make sure she’s really paying attention. “Did ya know your brain starts to eat your muscles in order to survive?” He chuckles, looks her up and down once in a way she absolutely does not fucking care for, and adds, “That’s why you’re so goddamn skinny.”
She bares her teeth to him, and he smiles right back.
“And by the eighth day, the wolves were closing in, and I looked at Miller and I could tell we’re as good as dead. And I accepted that. And in that acceptance… came clarity. You see, I wasn’t just looking at Miller.” He stands, reaching through the bars of the cage to grab the front of her shirt, twisting and pulling as he goes to haul her to her feet. “I was looking at an opportunity. It wasn’t something I wanted… it was something that I had to do. It was… it was my test. Now you see, Miller’s sacrifice wasn’t about me walking out of that desert—”
Here, Staci hands Jacob the music box. He doesn’t look at Mattie when he does it, even though she sends him a look of outraged betrayal. How could he? Right now? While she’s trying to help him?
Jacob starts to wind the box as he talks, and she steps away, covering her ears with her hands. She can barely hear Jacob’s words, the growling of the wolf next to her. “It was about bringing me here. The weak have their purpose. You’ll understand that soon enough.”
He opens the music box, and she falls unconscious. 
There was bliss in the meat.
---
“Wake up, wake up! Open your eyes!”
She does, obedient still, bliss just faded out of her system enough for her to be able to force her body back to consciousness. She aches all over, her muscles, her stomach, her lips, her scalp… 
The phantom hotel comes back to her, the one she fought through before, the one she fought through again. Jacob’s voice praising her as she killed stranger after stranger, Staci yelling for her to kill, to hunt, to sacrifice.
“Wake up! Rook!”
Staci’s here, now, frantic whispers and hushed voice unlike how he was before. She rolls onto her front, forces herself up onto her hands and knees, then up to her feet as Staci pulls something out of his pocket and holds it up.
“I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” She just stares, silent. Is this a trap? Why now? “And we’re gonna get out of here, okay? Only you. Only you.”
Oh, Staci. Oh, Staci.
Even with what she’s lived through, she can’t imagine what Jacob’s done to him.
He’s finding his strength, fighting back, saving her life and saving his even though she came here to help him. She’s too tired to keep the tears from her eyes, just lets them well and spill over silently as Staci unlocks her cage and snaps at another man who wants to escape.
“You have to get out of here before it starts again. ” He sounds desperate, wild, almost feral, and she wipes at her face with dirty hands and nods at him, still silent, still obedient.
He tells her to follow him, and she does, winding through the compound without speaking another word to each other. She watches the way he walks, shoulders still hunched, eyes constantly scanning for people, watching to make sure he has everything right and they can really escape this time.
She thought Jacob broke him, but Staci was just biding his time.
She brushes away more tears as they walk into a building through a back door, pausing long enough for Staci to lock it back behind them so they won’t be followed, then up rickety stairs into an inner room.
Jacob’s room.
Mattie pushes the door shut behind her and Staci grabs her shoulders to stop her, to pull her attention to him.
“He knows you’re ready,” he says. “To do it. Look.” He pulls her to the closest desk, taps a picture of Eli right on the forehead. “The trials. See?” He pulls her to a map on the wall, covered with annotations, red string, pictures of Whitetail members. “He’s got it all planned out. He mimes holding a shotgun, gestures as he starts to talk faster and faster, “One, two, three. One two three. Onetwothree then he’s got you. It becomes second nature. Routine. He gets in your head. And you don’t even realize it.”
She shakes her head at him and he grabs her shoulders again. He shakes her, not hard, just enough to drive his point home. “You can’t go back, you understand?”
He tries to walk away and she follows him, stumbling over her own feet when he turns back and raises his voice. “You can’t ever go back!” Another tear slips free and he holds up a hand, a placating gesture that does little to calm her nerves. “Come on. The truck’s gotta be there, gotta get on the truck.”
He hands her a duffel bag, and she takes it, not sure what’s happening.
“It’s almost time.” He tugs her again, pulls her out onto a balcony overlooking the front drive of the compound, holds her elbow as he says, “I studied the route for weeks.”
She believes him. He’s had weeks to study it.
There’s a truck sitting across the circular drive, someone sitting patiently in the front seat. 
It’s their escape. It’s so close she can taste it, taste the freedom. She’ll be able to get Staci back to Jude, back to Joey, back to Earl and safety.
“It’s the only way out. You’ll be safe if you don’t—”
Far off cries cut him short, and he turns. Cold sweat breaks out over her body, dread seeping through every pore.
They know she’s gone.
Only one person would have let her out.
They’re coming.
“No, no, no, no, NO! Not yet, not yet!” Alarms blare, lights start to flash, the truck below them starts to move. Staci’s panicking, his plan unraveling, and she doesn’t know what to do or even what the plan was to start.
“Staci,” she croaks, voice so hoarse she barely makes any noise. “Staci?”
He doesn’t sound like he hears her, murmuring a heartfelt fuck as he tugs at his hair.
Only you… can make the world seem bright…
Her vision starts to flash red, pricks of white light floating around the edges, and she tries to reach for him, but he’s screaming and covering his ears.
It’s like he snaps out of it completely when her fingertips brush his elbow.
He stands up straight, arms by his side, and he stares at her, head cocked to the side. He says, simply, “Sorry,” and then pushes her off the balcony.
She falls without even a scream, unafraid but still trying to pull him with her, and hits the back of the leaving truck hard enough to go unconscious.
At least the song can’t reach her here.
---
She’s not sure how long she’s been unconscious, but it’s daytime, and when she rolls to stand she falls off the top of the truck and knocks her shoulder out of socket. She howls through gritted teeth, pushes herself upright while she holds her useless left arm with her right hand.
Her radio squawks alive from the duffle still looped around her shoulders.
“Deputy, you copy? It’s Eli. I dunno where you’ve gone and disappeared to, but shit, we really kicked the hornet’s nest. I know you’re probably out there trying to get your friend Pratt back, but us Whitetails could still use a hand. Anyways. You know where to find us. Talk soon. Over and out.”
His voice disappears in a burst of static, and she kicks a nearby rock in a fit of impotent rage.
Staci said she can’t go back, but she can’t stay away. She can’t kill Jacob without their help, can’t get him to come out of the Veteran’s Center to get him away from his men without their support. Saving Staci and stopping the cult’s activities here all hinges on killing Jacob Seed.
She kicks the rock again and sets out walking along the center of the road towards the Wolf’s Den, still cradling her left arm.
---
Sharky meets her down the hill from the militia hideout, hat missing and face grim. He skids to a stop in front of her, but she just keeps going until she bumps into his chest and leans her entire weight against him, trusting him to hold her up. He does, arms around her back and chin on top of her head. She ignores the lingering pain and nuzzles her face into his chest, inhaling to get his scent deep into her lungs.
“Jacob gotcha?” Sharky’s voice is a whisper, or as close to a whisper as he ever gets, and she nods against his chest. His arms tighten around her, jostling her bad shoulder. She whines but doesn’t pull away, doesn’t tell him what the problem is because she doesn’t want him to push her back.
“Last time, I woke up in Boshaw Manor. This time, Hurky and I woke up at the radar station still, hungover’n cold, and you weren’t anywhere we could find you.” She tucks her face harder against his chest as he continues carefully, like he’s choosing each word before he says it instead of spitting them all out like he usually does. “We looked… all over the mountain for you, talked to that girl who runs the bait shop now, and the guy at the FANG Center, and Jess, and I like her’n all, but she’s scary sometimes…” He cuts himself off and she feels him sigh before he starts again. “How did Jacob manage to get you without hurting the rest of us?”
Silence stretches between them, Sharky holding out longer than she’d have guessed was possible before she makes herself answer.
“I just… I knew he was coming for me, so I just went out and had a smoke after you fell asleep.”
Another long, long pause.
“So he would have an easier time kidnapping you?���
“So you wouldn’t get hurt.” She does pull away then, standing up straight and taking a half-step back so she can see him. His lips are pressed together in a thin line, lines around his eyes deepening the longer she watches him. “Sharky, I—”
“I can’t get hurt,” he says, cutting her off, voice getting louder. She tries to shush him, but he keeps going, talking over her: “We could’ve stopped them from taking you! You didn’t have to give up!”
“I didn’t give up, Sharky! I was just trying to keep you safe.”
“You let them take you away from me!”
“They were going to take me anyway! They have every other time! I just saved you having to drive back over here from the Henbane!” She’s too tired for this, and tears pool in her eyes once more, spilling over and wetting her cheeks.
“Shit, Mat, I wanna keep you safe too. You understand?” She nods, miserable. “You think I felt safer runnin’ around the mountain looking for you?”
She shakes her head, miserable. “I’m sorry.”
He heaves a heavy sigh, reaches out with both hands to wipe at her tears. She leans into the touch, sniffling, and follows him when he says, “C’mon, let’s get your arm looked at.”
Inside the Wolf’s Den, Eli pops her shoulder back into socket for her, grimacing sympathetically when she suddenly bursts into tears at the feeling. He leaves her alone with Tylenol and Sharky and permission to use the Den’s showers, and then he makes himself scarce.
By the time she’s taken her medicine and emerged clean from the shower, Sharky’s smiling again, argument apparently forgotten. She curls up against his chest and goes to sleep, exhausted down to her very bones.
She doesn’t know what else to do.
---
They spend two more days in the Wolf’s Den, radios off, letting Mattie gain her strength back. She sleeps more than she has since the helicopter crash, waking up every now and then to find Sharky and cuddle up against him once more. He sits, patient and vibrating with energy, combing his fingers through her hair until she finally wakes up to eat.
They make love quietly the morning before they leave, murmured words of love and apology passed from kiss to kiss with each breath. He moves inside her with slow thrusts while she clings to his shoulders, legs locked around the back of his thighs, muffling their moans with lips pressed tight together.
She comes near silent, just a gasp of Shaky’s name in his ear, and he follows her, burying a moan into the side of her neck as he spills fruitlessly into his condom.
They dress quietly, check their weapons and ammunition before moving to find Eli. They find Wheaty first, who pushes through a face red enough to let her know they weren’t as quiet as they thought to ask for more vinyl if they find it, and then they find Eli who points to more things on their map for them to take care of, someone at the old Grandview that needs to be rescued.
It’s really never ending.
They leave without an argument.
---
Jess finds them again near the hotel, announces her presence by shooting a rabbit as it tries to run across the path in front of Mattie and disappear into the underbrush. Mattie freezes when the rabbit falls dead, then turns and glares behind her as Jess emerges from the tree line with a grin.
“Well, fuck you, too,” Mattie greets. 
Jess snickers. “You had Sharky all worked up while you was gone. I thought you could use a good scare.”
Mattie grimaces, then gives Jess a light punch to the arm. If she was anyone else, she’d give her a hug. “Comin’ with?”
“Yep.” Jess picks up the rabbit and pulls her arrow free. “Figured you could use the help.”
“Thanks, man!” Sharky says, sounding as cheerful as ever.
She cocks her head and looks up at him from under her hood. “You got your flamethrowin’ license, Sharky?”
He beams at her, absolutely grins with all his teeth showing, and Mattie’s already muffling her laugh when he says, “I don’t need one.”
Jess looks from Sharky to Mattie, who nods with a shrug, still laughing because this is so far out of her control and the opposite of what she thought her life in Hope County would be like, and then she looks back at Sharky and deadpans, “Well that’s fucken terrifying.”
Sharky booms with laughter, and the girls join him. The sound attracts something from nearby, the underbrush rustling in a way that makes Mattie pull her handgun up in case it’s one of those white wolves, and then Boomer leaps out from behind the nearest tree onto the they’re on and spins in an excited circle. 
“Oh, there’s my boy!” Mattie holsters her gun again and reaches for Boomer with both hands. He jumps up to put muddy front paws on her chest and licks her face while she laughs and scratches behind his ears.
Behind her, Sharky makes a vague noise of disgust. “You know dogs spend most of the day licking their own assholes, right?”
“Oh, like you wouldn’t do the same if you could.” She glances over her shoulder at him and winks as he splutters and then bursts into laughter again, grinning and shooting a wink at Jess who looks like she isn’t sure whether she should laugh or be disgusted too. She settles on a sigh and a little chuckle, and Mattie considers the joke a success.
With their little group now twice as large, it takes them a few more minutes to get settled into a plan, but they agree to take the Grandview back the same way they took the Elk Jaw Lodge. It’s a solid plan, one that’s proven to work, and they walk the rest of the way there with as much silence as they can possibly manage.
(It’s not much silence. Sharky chatters and Jess sends back sarcastic comments while Mattie tries to muffle her laughter. It’s a wonder Jacob’s men don’t intercept them on the way to the hotel.)
The place is crawling with peggies even before they get there, and they spend a good thirty minutes scouting the place out before even making plans. Mattie watches the guards through her binoculars, checks out the stacks of materials waiting outside, tries to figure out the best way to get in without anyone getting hurt.
Just because they always start over again doesn’t mean it’s pleasant.
She wants to avoid that gun wrenching pain of seeing Sharky bleeding out. If she never feels that kind of anguish again, it’ll be too soon.
She leaves Jess covering the outside of the building, picking off stray peggies, and sneaks into the hotel with her pistol in her hand. She plays the world’s worst game of hide and seek with the cultists inside, sneaking around behind their backs, hiding behind furniture, ducking behind open doors and holding her breath when cultists get too close.
The man she was sent to find is tied to a chair on the third floor, unguarded, surrounded by a sound system set up to play one of Jacob’s lessons over and over while the same images she remembers from her first kidnapping session play on a loop. There’s blood dripping down his face from his eyes and his ears, and seeing him there makes a chill go down her spine, nausea roll in her stomach. 
This is where Eli and Wheaty found her.
This is what they were doing to her.
She switches the tape he was being forced to listen to with the one Wheaty gave her, and the soothing sounds of metal music blast through the hotel’s sound system. 
She turns the volume up.
Fuck the peggies.
The lyrics of “Get Free” echo around the property, and she can’t hear over it to see where anyone else is. She lowers herself to a crouch and tries to go out the way she came, but a peggie literally trips over her as they try to walk through the same door at the same time.
His steel-toed boot makes solid contact with her calf and they both fall, but she recovers faster, spinning to put herself on top of him before he can use his size against her. She pulls a knife free of her boot and shoves it straight through the soft part of his throat and rips it out again. He gurgles, eyes wide and blood spewing from the wound and his mouth to splash against her face, but she can’t even bring herself to care. 
She stabs him again to put an end to his misery, wipes her blade on his shirt, and tucks it back in its place.
Once she makes it to the second floor, she can hear the peggies scrambling, shrieking at each other to be heard over the music, and she uses their distraction to start picking them off one by one.
Eli’s voice comes over her radio and she has to duck behind a couch and hold the receiver up to her ear to hear him warning her more peggies are coming from the lake with boats and helicopters.
They really don’t want her to take this hotel from them, but they’re shit out of luck.
Whatever hell she’s trapped in means they have absolutely no way of winning.
I’m gonna get free, I’m gonna get free, I’m gonna--
She’s exhausted to the point of shaking by the time the last peggie sniper is dead and Eli radios back to let her know his men are coming to get Briggs. She hasn’t fully recovered from her last trip to Jacob’s compound, her body protesting the abuse by threatening to shut down no matter what’s happening around her, with cold sweat dripping into her eyes and bile at the back of her throat.
Sharky spots her first as soon as she steps out of the tree line back into the Grandview’s parking lot, thrusts his shotgun into Jess’ surprised hands so he can jog over and catch Mattie when the vertigo makes her too weak to stand up. She falls forward into his embrace, and he scoops her up like she weighs nothing.
Maybe Jacob’s right and she is too goddamn skinny.
The thought makes her giggle, then she can’t stop, nearly delirious as Sharky carries her inside and sets her down on a couch that’s covered in dust and blood. He starts pawing at her face and torso, checking for wounds as she squeezes her eyes closed and tries to force herself to stop laughing. 
“This ain’t funny,” he snaps, voice tense and gruff. 
“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Mattie tries to protest but he doesn’t listen, and when she opens her eyes to give him a reassuring smile Jess is standing almost directly above her looking right down at her too.
Eli’s voice comes back over the radio, praising her even as Jess and Sharky try to figure out whether she’s actually injured or not. She manages to wave them off and grabs for her radio again, the world not spinning so fast now that she’s horizontal.
“You know, you proved everyone wrong, Dep, everyone except me. Always knew you were the real deal. I’ll see you back at the Den, soldier. Take care.”
Mattie’s just pushing the talk button down to say she needs some time before they can make it back when she hears the tell-tale thwap of an arrow flying by and finding its mark. Jess drops from Mattie’s field of vision with a silent cry, mouth open and eyes unseeing as a peggie arrow ends her life as unceremoniously as Mattie has ended every peggie’s life so far.
Mattie opens her mouth to scream for Sharky, but he’s already starting to pull Mattie from the couch to shield her body with his. She lets him manipulate her the way he wants, even though she knows it’s useless. She wraps her arms around him and presses a kiss to his cheek as more arrows sail through open windows and hit the couch, the wall behind them, and finally his shoulder.
She tries to yank it free, more worried about the bliss on the tip than any blood loss that will follow its removal, but he goes limp over her. Her body runs cold again, reacting even though she knows he’ll likely wake up in the hotel with a headache and anger at the peggies, and she bites her tongue until she feels blood to keep herself from screaming.
They should have just run.
An arrow hits her shoulder as she starts to shimmy out from under Sharky’s body, and she makes it halfway out before unconsciousness claims her. 
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