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purplecatghostposts · 1 year

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THE MOST BLOOD CURDLING SCREAMING CRYING BRIAN ANGST??? PLEASE???

Hehe I gottchu

Wanna Roleswap Brian? I’m giving you Roleswap Brian. You’ll figure out what role he’s taking within :)

Tags: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Ambiguous Ending, Role Swap/Role Reversal, Canon Typical Operator Sickness Symptoms, Canon Typical Behavior, Guns, Blood Mention, Very brief Alcohol and Drugs Mention, It’s Not Paranoia If They’re Really Out To Get You, Mention of Strangulation (But doesn't actually happen), Intrusive Thoughts

Word Count: 2k Words. (I got carried away)

— —

Believe it or not, Brian is not immune to stage fright. He doesn't get it as bad as some people but it still shook him some days, making him jittery and tongue tied.

Working with friends made it easier but Brian still had to take a few breaks to pull himself back together at times. But fortunately he always knew what to do. Memorized it at this point.

Take a deep breath. Focus on what you are doing and let everything else drain away. Steel your resolve and do what you got to do to get it out of the way as soon as possible.

The faster he got his lines done, the sooner he was in the clear. It was as simple as that.

It’s been a little rougher as of late however. Brian struggles to articulate it to anyone but a feeling persists in the back of his head. Eyes on him, even if no one else is there. Nerves acting up for no reason. Anxiety in its purest of forms. He doesn’t understand it.

Take a deep breath, Brian reminds himself. Focus on what you are doing and let everything else drain away. The faster you get it done, the faster it’s over.

It helps a little, but not enough. Brian isn’t usually the one to jump at shadows but it feels like something else is there now. Something in the trees that he can’t quite place.

It’s probably nothing.

—

The feeling follows him home.

Brian triple checks the locks on his doors and windows but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. He lugs his mattress into the closet to sleep there. It just to feel a little safer to sleeping in a room without windows. It helps but never enough. He’s still exhausted— no amount of sleep seems to take the edge off.

His psychology grades are dropping. All the terminology blends together and Brian stares at his notes after class with a sinking feeling. It’s barely comprehensible— there’s just shaky drawings of trees and some sort of repeated symbol made over and over. An O with an X through it.

He doesn’t remember making it.

Brian stuffs the paper deep into his bag and tries not to think about it. He smiles as best as he can when he meets up with Tim for lunch and waves off the concern he gets. Tells Tim he just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. He’s not lying about that.

—

The sun has vanished from the sky, it’s dark and cold and Brian’s phone is dying, and he doesn’t know where he is or how he ended up in the middle of the woods.

He remembers driving home after a shoot. He remembers seeing a tall, lone figure underneath a flickering street light.

He remembers nothing else.

Something tickles in the back of his throat when he swallows. A cough rises, doesn’t stop, and Brian ends up bent over and hacking up a wad of blood, spitting it into the dirt. In the silence of the night, he can only hear his own heavy breathing and distant crickets.

Brian thinks something is wrong with him. The fact that he doesn’t know what shakes him but he fumbles for his phone and manages to call Sarah to pick him up.

She’s always been a light sleeper. She picks up on the second ring and Brian navigates his way through the woods as he asks her if he can get a ride. She tells him she’ll be there as soon as she can, she just needs to know where he is.

Brian stumbles out onto a street and rattles off its name. Sarah hangs up and Brian waits fifteen minutes under a lone streetlight before she finally pulls up. Her face is tight with concern, eyeing him as he buckles up.

“Are you drunk?” She asks. “High?”

“I wish.” Brian slumps in the seat and only just meets her gaze. “I’m… Fucking exhausted honestly. Can we talk about this later?”

Sarah pursues her lips but nods and shifts the car back into gear. The trip to his apartment is silent and after a declined offer to walk him inside, Sarah tells him to rest up and skip classes if he needs to. Brian just smiles and thanks her again.

He passes out the second his head hits his pillow. When he wakes up, he’s missed his first two classes and feels like death itself.

—

Brian goes to the doctor. They prescribe him some sleeping pills.

After waking up with increasingly bad headaches, injuries he doesn’t remember getting, and ending up in more and more concerning places that he definitely didn’t fall asleep in, he calls his doctor to confirm the fact that yes, he should stop taking them.

(They ask him if he wants to try anything else to see what works for him. Brian tells them he’ll think about it, with the intention of really considering it, but it slips away in the long run.)

—

Alex is yelling about nothing, ticked off by every little thing that doesn’t go his way, and Brian considers punching him. He considers it long enough to where he thinks he might actually do it.

He doesn’t understand why Alex is acting this way. It’s like he’s not even Alex anymore— he’s just twitchy and angry and Brian thinks it’s rubbing off on him because sometimes he thinks about wrapping his hands around his neck when he’s yelling and squeezing until he’s blissfully silent. Then he hates himself for it more than he hates Alex’s yelling and it just makes it all worse.

Everything is bad these days. Tim is coughing up a storm, Seth jumps at every shadow that moves, Jay has this dead stare at times like he’s not really there, Sarah looks like she could fall asleep at every moment, and Alex is being an asshole.

Everything is bad and Brian doesn’t understand why until one day, he’s over at Seth’s place to get out of his apartment and not think about the feeling of someone or something else being there with him. Seth focuses on editing Marble Hornets but at some point, both of them lose time because abruptly it’s night and Seth passes out at his desk. Brian sighs and walks over to wake him so he can get up and go sleep in a real bed when he sees what’s on his computer. He freezes.

It’s footage he took with Alex earlier. A scene in the car— Brian can’t remember what it was about, unable to take his eyes off a figure in the background. A figure he recognizes.

A figure that’s been following him around for weeks now but that he was so sure was just a trick of the light. A shadow he mistook for a person. A million different excuses to avoid the truth.

But it’s there. On camera. And suddenly Brian is confronted with the idea that the thing following him around is a lot more real than he previously thought and that—

That’s.

Brian takes a deep breath. He minimizes the editing program so he doesn’t have to look at it anymore but then a file on Seth’s computer catches his eye. It stands out among the rest, its name in all caps.

‘OPERATOR’.

Somehow Brian knows what’s going to be on it before he clicks on it. He does anyways, despite the feeling of dread in his chest, and stares at a file full of still images and clips. All of them with the very same monster that’s been haunting him.

The same monster that’s haunting Seth. Seth, who jumps at shadows and clutches Alex’s camera like a lifeline sometimes. Seth, who edits all of Alex’s footage alone and without complaint or without asking for help, taking any tape Alex hands over without question.

Seth, who barely acknowledged he was there while he was editing. Not even a hum when Brian attempted to ask him about what he was doing or how his classes were going.

The pieces of the puzzle begin to fit together. Brian doesn’t like the picture it makes.

—

Brian can’t hear it move but he knows it’s there. He presses his back against the closet wall and tries to breathe quietly but there’s static in his head and he’s terrified and trapped and can’t fall asleep.

There’s a monster in his apartment. It won’t kill him, Brian knows that deep down, but what it will do is so much worse.

He can feel it. The way it changes him, the way all his bouts of anger are accompanied by a faint feeling of static in the back of his head, the way he can’t sleep because every night his home is invaded and if he falls asleep then he’ll wake up somewhere else and covered in his own blood and he fears that one day, he might wake up in someone else’s.

It’s changing him. Affecting him. He doesn’t know what it wants, only that it will ruin his life to get it, and now Brian knows that he’s not the only one. It’s after his friends too. It wants…

It wants to feed on all of them.

He doesn’t know what it eats but he knows it’s something it gets from them. Their pain? Their fear? Their suffering? He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know anything at all except that it has to stop.

—

Brian buys a gun. He doesn’t think it’ll do anything against that thing but he needs something or he’ll lose his mind.

The gun feels heavy and wrong in his hands. Brian carries it anyways.

—

Everything gets worse. Brian doesn’t think he can stand much more of the anger that comes out of each shoot, like everyone just wants to bite each other’s heads off.

Then Alex takes him to a solo shoot at an old abandoned hospital. He’s unsympathetic when Brian voices how he doesn’t want to be there and Brian feels a familiar anger rise up that he bites back down. The trees have eyes. He ignores them the best he can, but largely fails.

Alex hands Brian the currently recording camera to hold while he sets up the stand for it. He struggles with it, multiple curses and frustrated noises leaving him, and Brian stares at him and wonders when the last time he saw Alex happy was. He can’t remember. He can’t even remember what his smile looks like anymore.

His pocket of his fading yellow hoodie feels heavier than it should be. Brian reaches into it and is immediately met with the cold metal of his gun.

He doesn’t remember bringing it. It never should’ve left his house.

But as he stares at Alex, hearing him dissolve into a coughing fit, hands shaking badly as he tries to power through it and set up the camera properly, it dawns on him. That this thing— this Operator, as Seth had called it— makes people miserable. That Alex— snappish and impatient and twitchy— is miserable. This project should be bringing him joy but there are bags under his eyes and Brian thinks about how all of them stopped asking about his own insomnia when they started developing it themselves.

It’s changing them. Maybe it feeds off of that— misery.

And maybe Brian can stop that. Right here, right now.

Alex’s back is to him. He’s not even paying the slightest bit of attention.

Brian slowly draws the gun. It feels wrong and weighted and his insides twist but Brian takes a deep breath. The faster he gets it over with, the faster he gets it done.

He’s not doing this to hurt Alex. He’ll take no pleasure from it and it’ll be quick. Either he does this now or that thing drains Alex until he’s a shell of who he used to be. Until it kills him.

His aim levels as he focuses on this moment and only this moment. Everything else drains away.

His finger tightens on the trigger.

— —

I think role swaps are interesting as hell and had to pull one where Brian takes Alex’s place. Brian is deep in the Operator’s influence at this point without realizing it and what happens to Alex, and what happens afterwards, is up to you.

Hope this was some good Brian Angst! Thank you for the request, feel free to send another! :)

#marble hornets #Ask #Request #Requests are still open! I only got one other one that I'm working on rn #They pretty much stay open unless I say otherwise #Brian Thomas #mh au #SB Speaks #SB Writes #gun #blood #Read the tags PLEASE #shit goes down

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ghostisdead · 2 years

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Hello and welcome to my to much shit happens all in one day repot in todays new

- try guys try infidelity

- corn on tumblr once more?

-Deadpool 3 :D (also Hugh Jackman is back ig)

I’ll be back next time when more shit goes down

#shit goes down #try guys #deadpool #tumblr corn?

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unfinishedzizzy · 8 months

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Qivobit is up next! A ringleader Pre-Brandshock and DEAR LORD this drama queen makes it obvious. She made a lot of her own amplifiers for her shows (many of them used of the current mission) and only hired the strongest psionic users. She herself is a force to be reckoned with (eyyy) and is kinda the overlap between the Special Ops being Clowns and Criminals... and also one of the 3/7 Special Ops still on the team...

#zizzy doodles #fani #kenopsia #stars below #Qivobit #YES THE RATIO OF SPECIAL OPS ONTEAM/TURNCOAT IS IMPORTANT #SHIT GOES DOWN

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approximateknowledge · 2 months

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they weren't lying; those drones sure do be murdering!

#just watched new murder drones episode #shit goes down #and boom #good stuff #murder drones #(N my boi)

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savage-rhi · 2 years

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Immortal Shield Chapter 24: Rampage II

**DM or comment if you want to be tagged in updates on tumblr

**To read previous chapters, hit this link

Tagging: @seradyn

Ardyn’s breath steadied itself while his arm left the warm body of a scientist. The corpse fell with a thud, slouched against a wall and surrounded by other deceased. The carnage he had created upon arriving at Serpo's lab was indescribable. It wasn’t just souls that had been ripped apart, but the very essence of who the men and women once were. Pale looks of horror and awe were what remained on the many who had died by his hand, if they were lucky enough to keep their faces intact. He had tried being a gentlemen, negotiating and offering peace, but all of that flew out the window when they refused to tell him where Caelan was being held.

Ardyn closed his eyes, breathing out as more scourge leaked past his lips. The black veins, whip like and pulsating, completely covered his entire form. His eyes held a primordial hunger, further accentuated by the constant glare that he wore. There were even horn like structures emerging from either side of his head. With each passing kill, they grew. He could barely walk due to the extra weight from them. His body tumbled and slouched, doing its part to try to play the role of human but to no avail. The compulsion to plant his hands and feet on the ground and walk on all fours became tempting with every step he took as he traversed the lab. His nostrils flared, picking up on scents and discerning potential foes.

Four days. It had been four days with less than three hours of sleep. Days of paranoia and fear taking hold of Ardyn's brain and planting roots to spread unspeakable ideas. He was so terrorized on Caelan’s behalf, on his mistake of not killing Serpo when he had the chance, that Ardyn ignored yet another prophetic vision while he drove the Scepter across Lucis. The echoing and tired pleads of Astrals beseeching him to fulfil a call was left unanswered. He could feel the desperation of whatever entities aided his resurrection; going so far as to throw images of Eos in ruin at him. The planet obliterated with no trace or memory. They made it clear Ardyn was going off road in every sense of the term while he scoured the lands looking for his shield.

Fuck the Gods. Fuck prophecy. He wasn’t going to fulfill any requests. Not after Bahamut, and especially not when he didn’t know if Caelan was alive. Fulfilling the desires of deities beyond mortals had cost him Aera. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He wasn’t going to lose his only friend in the world.

Guttural growls and inhuman rasps fell past Ardyn’s lips. Every once in a while, he would inhale, trying to pick up on any scent interesting enough to follow. He could still taste the blood of his guide at the tip of his tongue, having given into carnal impulses once they had arrived at the entry of the cave leading into Serpo's domain. Ardyn had full intention of letting the man go, but the moment he heard what sounded like Caelan’s screams, his humanity took a backseat. From that point on, he had become feral and with each kill, a little bit of his conscious left. It was not a matter of if but when he’d succumb to being a full daemonic entity and he didn’t care. He didn’t care that his spirit was being ripped apart and broken by the scourge pulsing through his veins. He didn’t care if his healing power called out to him. The only thing that mattered was following his drive to find Caelan and get her out of this place. Even if it killed him.

“Ardyn!” Caelan’s voice traveled through his ears. The sound echoing through corridors and bouncing off equipment, causing him to wince. Ardyn’s head quickly turned around, and his body took off. He was animal like with his movements, predatory and lurking as he sought out who or what made the noise. For what felt like minutes, he ran. His pulse thudded behind his eyes as colors and heat signatures came and went. He came upon a hallway with rooms and various doors and one by one, he’d approach, kick in the door, peek in, then move onto the next. His movements were so quick it was near serpentine, fluid and striking.

After body slamming into another, the hinges flying off, Ardyn looked from left to right. He did a double take upon seeing Caelan’s unconscious form on the ground. His heart picked up pace, a surprised growl leaving him. There was a softness that graced his monstrous features as her scent traveled to his nose. A sweet one he had loved inhaling from her neck the times they embraced. He found her.

Ardyn quickly ran to her, falling on his knees while his hands clamored and pulled her to him.

“Cahl,” His rich voice was gritty in comparison to the smooth texture he was known for, sounding more deep and scratchy than usual. Clawed fingers carefully brushed Caelan’s hair from her face, his eyes examining every inch of her body. That’s when he smelled the blood emitting from her chest. He lowered his head, nose pressing close to the points where she had been stabbed, and inhaled before looking towards her face. These were fresh. Having been done recently. His ears picked up on her faint pulse, and as he touched her throat he could feel her blood weakly pumping. He had almost been too late.

“No,” Ardyn shook his head. He pressed his forehead to hers, nuzzling while his body emitted unusual sounds throughout his form. It was akin to the purrs a large feline would produce. The noise was strong enough to make some of the objects within the room quake.

“Cahl,” He repeated her name over and over. The back of his left hand caressed her cheek. He pressed his face to her throat, nose giving a nudge to coax her awake. Ardyn repeated the motion to her face. A noise left her while he watched her grimace. Her eyes remained shut but it was enough of a sign that he needed to pick her up and leave. The sanity that remained within Ardyn began to temper down his animal impulses, not thinking about killing everyone left. That would come after she safe.

Ardyn hoisted her into his arms, carrying her like a bride. Her head lolled, turning away from his chest. He stepped out into the hallway where he had ransacked the other rooms, following the trail of blood he had left from his earlier exploits. Ardyn couldn’t stop glancing between Caelan and what was ahead. He desperately wanted to figure out what Serpo had done to her. For days he had the most horrific thoughts come to mind. Stuff even he wouldn’t be so bold to put another human through, and Ardyn was no stranger to cruel and unusual punishment.

Memories of the horrors he and Serpo performed on people at Niflheim all those years ago ransacked Ardyn's head. He remembered telling Caelan time after time, he had no regrets about the things he had done but that wasn’t true. There was more. He was just too prideful to admit it. Up till now at least. Ardyn couldn’t help but press Caelan closer to his body, his grip tightening around her. He regretted the things he had done because it led to her getting hurt. If she never met him, if she never knew him, she wouldn’t be in this situation.

There was a sudden whoosh of movement. The likes of which made Ardyn’s hairs stand on his neck followed by a throbbing stab to his throat. The needle hit a bundle of nerves, and on instinct he dropped Caelan and grabbed for the syringe while gasping. Ardyn yanked it out, tossing the vial away. It landed against a wall, cracking into pieces as the glass shattered. His right hand covered the spot, his head turning towards his attacker.

“You!” His inhuman voice bellowed as he laid his eyes on Tempus. Arms reaching to defend himself while Tempus used his blade to strike down. The screech that left Ardyn had Tempus falter back, giving Ardyn enough time and room to make his strike. He swiped and thrashed at Tempus. The sword blocking his claws and arms from hitting the flesh. Ardyn could feel his skin being sliced open but didn’t care. His mind had a singular purpose at the helm: take the man down by any means necessary. Even the call of Rakshasa went ignored as he continued his primal onslaught. He used objects to handicap Tempus’s strikes, getting the Einherjar commander to stumble long enough to assault him with cuts and slices. Ardyn took much delight in hearing Tempus's pained wheezes, yearning to rip the mans head off.

As Tempus twisted to dodge an attack, Ardyn exploited the move. He lunged forward, headbutting Tempus in the abdomen and knocked him to the ground. Their bodies crunched against the smooth texture of the floor and Ardyn slashed and bit whatever he could. Tempus’s exclamations were music to his ears while he ravaged at the man’s body. He’d throw in several punches to Tempus's face, breaking the nose before sinking his claws repeatedly into his opponents chest like knives. He was so hyper fixated on making Tempus suffer, that Ardyn didn’t register the sudden wave of nausea that hit him until Tempus gained the upper hand and threw him off.

“My turn!” Tempus exclaimed, returning a headbutt and punching Ardyn's stomach. While Ardyn tumbled over, Tempus got up and kicked him viciously. The final one sending him flying.

“Fuck!” Ardyn let out a pained yell while his back slammed against a nearby pipe leading into the cave. He winced while hoisting himself up, gaze on Tempus while the man angrily paced around. A plethora of creative curses left Tempus as he felt over all the spots that Ardyn had maimed. trying to assess how bad the damages were.

“You fucking---! You’re lucky we want you alive!” Tempus shouted, venturing over and crouching in front of Ardyn. He grabbed him by the neck, squeezing tight while Ardyn choked out.

“What did---what was in that--?”

“So the monster can talk!” Tempus spat. Little bits of blood landed upon Ardyn’s face.

“Do you feel human now, hm? Good! Because I’m going to make fucking sure you hurt like one!”

Ardyn’s chest heaved, all his limbs trembled and he could feel the scourge receding back into whatever void was in his body. He was about to say something else, until a throbbing crunch at his head had him yell out. Tempus had headbutted him over and over then flung Ardyn to the right like a ragdoll.

Ardyn rolled over himself a few times, landing on his stomach. Feral groans and ragged coughs escaped his body. Bile from the scourge pooled from his mouth and he threw up several times. Somehow through it all, he lifted his upper half and looked down at his hands. The veins and the claws were fading away. Returning to something akin of normalcy. His mind too cleared up, feeling more of himself shine through. Had it been any other time, Ardyn would’ve been jubilant he hadn’t lost the fight within himself. Now, with his daemonic abilities being suppressed from the serum, he was finding it difficult to defend himself. He attempted to fling Tempus away as the man approached, grabbing his right leg to try and sweep him. Tempus stopped Ardyn before the latter could perform the feat. Ardyn felt a thundering pain to his ribs as he was once more stricken.

Tempus grabbed Ardyn by his hair, relishing in the pained yell that escaped his throat then threw him to the ground. It wasn’t long until members of the Einherjar showed up, and Ardyn stared daggers into every one of them. His chest rose and fell rapidly while he tried to regain his composure. He counted around thirty or so until he was distracted. A searing pain was felt in his shoulder, feeling the blade of Tempus strike through his body, keeping him pinned to a nearby wall. Deep reds pooled like gentle rain from the wound, and Ardyn could feel the warmth of his blood being absorbed by his clothes.

“This won’t hold me back forever,” Ardyn forewarned, gritting his teeth while the nerves in his left arm pulsated. “I can already feel the scourge wishing to make a return. I will take everything from you. No one will be spared.”

“I have no doubt you’ll try,” Tempus sneered, crouching down to get on his level. A glare followed by pity graced itself on the former crownsguard towards his adversary. “Which is why we’re not taking any chances.”

Ardyn winced, screaming aloud as Tempus surprised him again with another needle to the throat. Then another, and another. He lazily attempted to slap Tempus’s hands away but to no avail as he was shoved to the side. With every ounce of the liquid that pulsed into his body, Ardyn felt weak. The experience was akin to being struck with a fever in a matter of seconds, and the shakes along with the sensation of feeling cold and wanting to throw up hit him all at once.

“Stop!” Serpo’s voice emerged. “If you keep dosing him with the suppressants, there’s a chance he’ll fall into a coma and die! I know you most certainly wouldn’t want that! The daemonic part of him should be at rest for a long while. Please. If you value your pardons, I’d advise against hitting him again.”

“Good thinking,” Tempus bitterly sighed, shaking his head while he rose to his feet. He began barking orders to the Einherjar to get the Adagium secured for transport.

It wasn’t long before Ardyn’s legs were being bound. He weakly growled, moving his body about to make it difficult for his captors. Between his powers being suppressed and his body aching, it was of no use. He hadn’t felt this tired, this weak in a millennia. Not since he was strung up in Angelgard. As the bindings reached to the upper hip of his left side, Ardyn felt triggered. There was a moment when he blinked that he could see them. Somnus’s finest men preparing to break his limbs, ensuring he wouldn’t be able to get out of Angelgard on his own. He thrashed, letting out gravely cries. Ardyn managed to grab a hold of one of the Einherjar that crouched near, choking the man out until he was repeatedly assaulted and forced to let the poor soul go.

From afar, Ardyn could see Serpo coming out from the shadows. His heart raced, mind feeling the pain of rage take hold when the older man bent down to examine Caelan.

“You will not touch her!” Ardyn shouted. His normal voice returning to him as he yelled. His body began to fight against his captors once more.

“I will do as I please with what I bought and paid for.” Serpo replied back firmly.

Ardyn was beside himself, furrowing his brows while his head shook. He glanced between the Einherjar and his former assistant.

“So you’re not taking Cahl?” Ardyn muttered. The confusion seemed to offer his adversaries much amusement. Some chuckled and others looked beside themselves. Ardyn didn’t want to believe it, yet there seemed to be a reluctance in a few of the men and women at his question. No, they couldn’t have cared about what happens to Caelan. Not after everything. He wouldn't allow such sentimentality. Not after what they put her through.

“The Einherjar and myself have come to an arrangement,” Serpo broke the silence, speaking on behalf of himself and the group. “

“What arrangement?” Ardyn’s voice lowered.

“I’m amazed at you suddenly becoming cordial, Izunia!” Serpo exclaimed. The pitiful look he cast upon Ardyn visibly made his former associate tense. The older man smirked upon witnessing that.

“I intend to finalize Project Oraculum. I was hoping with your assistance and blessing, but after you left, it became obvious I’d have to take matters into my own hands. By rotten luck, Tempus and I bumped into each other. He shared what he had been through and whom they were searching for. Partnering with the Einherjar seemed a logical step, wouldn’t you agree?”

Serpo was quite humored at the circumstances while he chuckled. He then gestured towards Ardyn, and stepped towards him. There was a small sigh of relief that left Ardyn, the farther away Serpo was from Caelan, the more at ease he became. The hostility remained nevertheless. Ardyn wouldn't let these trespasses go.

“You will be escorted to Insomnia. Like you always intended. Tempus and the Einherjar will see to that. Though, it’s a shame,” Serpo furrowed his brows. There was a sincere look of regret in his eyes that had Ardyn puzzled for a time until the man continued. “I was hoping before your arrival, you’d get to see your Oracle again. I had Zamfir prepped and ready for the extraction process. I promised her that you’d meet again, but alas it’s not meant to be.”

Ardyn was seeing red at the remark. His blood boiled, eyes glaring while his teeth grit. Snarls began to leave his body as he attempted to lunge forward, only to be stopped by the sword in his shoulder.

Serpo walked back to Caelan and crouched down beside her. The moment he put his hands upon Caelan’s throat to check for a pulse, Ardyn snapped. With a shaking hand, he ripped Tempus’s blade out of his arm and forced himself to his feet. The bindings around his legs began to slouch, having not been fastened tight enough. He shoved several Einherjar that attempted to stop his advances, hitting a few in the process.

“I said don’t touch her!” He screamed out. There was a whishing snap, and six of the royal arms appeared to his aid. He gestured with his right arm, one of the ghost like weapons, that of an ax, zoomed forward intent on killing Serpo.

Serpo's eyes widened. He managed to avoid the line of fire as Ardyn became distracted by Tempus and others in the Einherjar suddenly attacking. The killing blow intended for the old man accidentally took out a lab assistant nearby. During the commotion, Serpo snuck away not before ordering other assistants to grab a hold of Caelan and move her. Ardyn took notice, his eyes widening out of fear for her, and he was soon distracted, needing to protect his own neck.

"Make sure she doesn't get out of the machine this next time!" Serpo barked at his assistants while they made their way to an elevator. The assistants quickly ran inside along with their boss, hitting several buttons to the right and the doors came screaming closed. The platform below their feet trembled and they made their descent.

"Did any of you bring the sedatives?" Serpo asked as one assistant lay Caelan down on the floor, the other scrambled to procure what Serpo was asking for.

"I have some right here! I can apply to the arms, we just need--" The assistant felt a horrible weight in his lower chest. Peering down, he screamed at witnessing he had been pierced through by a sword. Caelan ripped her blade from him, swinging to his legs. The assistant fell, and she pointed her blade to Serpo. Gruff pants left Caelan's mouth while she growled. There was no mercy in her gaze. No signs that her heart was open to the idea of leaving anyone or anything alive.

It took Serpo a few seconds to realize she had already killed the other assistant who had been tending to her. He had no chance to react when Caelan stepped forward, and made a quick slash to his body. He was so stunned at her recovery, given how thoroughly drugged he had ensured her, that Serpo didn't register Caelan had cut off his right arm and part of his foot.

The old man's screams echoed throughout the elevator as it continued to to descend further into the labs. Caelan's onslaught not ceasing in the slightest.

Meanwhile, Ardyn traded blow after blow with Tempus and other Einherjar for what felt like ages. Summoning Rakshasa, and with the help of his armiger, he gained the upper hand over his adversaries. Bodies fell, blood shed, steel met steel, and harrowing gasps and righteous screams echoed throughout the cavernous hallways of the lab. Despite everything going against Ardyn power wise, he could feel a surge of confidence begin to make its way through himself. A determination to see his plans through and to get Caelan out resonated deep within. He could do this. He had to. He was winning.

Cornered and bloodied, Tempus’s sword had been knocked from his grasp as the phantom limbs of the astral weapons encircled Ardyn. A furious gaze burned in his eyes while he rushed with the Rakshasa at the Einherjar’s commander to ensure a killing blow, only to falter. Ardyn could feel his vision blurring. His heart rate dropped dangerously low then sped up. The few seconds he was incapacitated, Tempus and the others exploited the weakness. Ardyn had trouble parrying and blocking. His movements, albeit fast to the naked eye, became sloppy. There were several openings he could’ve struck, but the royal arms were not having it.

The only thing keeping Ardyn safe and giving him an advantage over this situation, was also killing him. He could feel it. His body wanting to shut down. Without the scourge for backup to offer reprieve from the toll the royal arms took, Ardyn knew he was going to lose. He was slipping more into distraught. Upset that he had allowed himself to become so weak. Angry that of all the places to die, it would be in this hellscape and not at the hands of Noctis. Frustrated that he would again reincarnate maybe in another five or ten years and relive another lifetime, and most of all deeply sorrowful he once more couldn’t protect a person he cherished.

“No harm would’ve ever come to Aera had she been at my side.” The morose words of Somnus rang through Ardyn’s head as he blocked an attack from Tempus and swung Rakshasa to the right. He could see his brother giving him one last look before readying for departure. Never to be seen again in the flesh.

“She was--never yours to protect, brother. You were--weak as I am.” Ardyn replied hoarsely. His broken bones and heavy wounds wouldn’t allow him to speak anymore, nor did he want to spare another thought towards the man who had taken his life away. Those were the last words Ardyn ever exchanged with Somnus. He had never allowed himself to dive into the memory, yet the conversation plagued him in the present as he thought of how he failed Caelan.

Ardyn grimaced while he continued to fight despite his speed significantly slowing down. Pain seared in his back, his legs, his arms. He let out an anguishing gasp when he fell to his knees. The royal arms began to fade in and out of reality like static on a television set. This was it. He was at the end of his rope. He had no more fight in him despite his spirit wanting to persevere.

“Knock him out! Finish this!” Tempus commanded the closest Einherjar. The soldier stepped forward, bracing herself as her shield rose and prepared to deliver the final blow. All Ardyn could do was hang his head and close his eyes. For the first time in ages, he prayed to whatever was listening. Not for his sake but for Caelan. Hoping that somehow, she’d make it out of this place without him.

As the shield came barreling down towards Ardyn’s neck, he could hear its weight and imagined the heaviness of it crushing his skull. He swallowed and surrendered to his fate. A few seconds passed and nothing came of it. The last thing his ears registered was a powerful boom and a chalk board induced scratching noise of a sword meeting wood and steel. Ardyn looked up. Caelan was standing in front of him, having blocked the impact and even killed the shield owner.

“Cahl!” His voice hitched, eyes widening as Caelan went from a defense to an attack position. The stance bore striking resemblance to one Ardyn had used against her when they sparred. He couldn’t help but feel some pride at that.

“Zamfir!” Tempus bellowed out of frustration.

“Which one of you hurt him?” The lack of emotion in her voice had Ardyn momentarily taken back. This was downright stoic, even for her. A strong coppery smell traversed up through Ardyn’s nostrils, and his eyes registered Caelan was covered in red. From the way her clothes clung to her body, and how saturated the material was, it was if she jumped into a pool of blood.

“Have it your way.” Caelan responded when no one answered. She gripped the handle of her blade, and charged.

Before Ardyn could grab her, touch her to reassure himself this was real, he fell backwards while Caelan proceeded to perform a warp strike. Using what energy he could, Ardyn crawled to an area where he was away from the battlefield. The large metal crates nearby provided shelter from the onslaught of attacks. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to take full breaths while his body attempted to recover. It didn’t stop him from peering around to watch.

A look of awe, fascination and dread each took turns making their way across Ardyn’s face as he watched Caelan fight. He had sparred with her before, had traded blows and pushed her limits. He of all people should’ve known what she was like in a battle. Everything from Caelan's stances to the way she thrust and adjusted her sword felt like another person was performing on her behalf. That someone or something took control of the reigns behind her brain and replaced her. The spirit of play in her movements, that he noted down mentally as her personal signature was nowhere to be found. Everything about Caelan was cold and calculative. Poised and ready to strike. The blank look told Ardyn everything about this character: she fully intended to kill everybody off.

Ardyn had no doubt he was witnessing the Homicida at work. The persona Caelan had come into being in order to take down her father and the Einherjar all those years ago. He should’ve been relieved, but all he felt while watching her cut, maim and butcher soldier and lab assistant was a terrible pain. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t his Cahl.

“S-stop,” Ardyn tried to call out to her but he struggled. He could scarcely believe Caelan would have heard him anyhow. Too wrapped up in the battle and attempting to kill Tempus to care. He had to get to her. He needed to calm her down. There could only be one monster, and Ardyn rather it be himself than her.

Ardyn slowly began to move onto his feet. He collapsed a few times, getting his bearings while his legs shook. All the attacks had him feeling wobbly. Like a newborn horse trying to walk after being dropped from the womb. He stepped forward, then from the corner of his eye noticed Serpo.

Ardyn’s eyes widened as he took notice Serpo was missing an arm. The clean cut going to his elbow. Various stab wounds were intricately placed upon old mans body, ensuring Serpo didn't die but suffered a slow death. Ardyn had no doubts that was Caelan’s doing. In the leftover hand Serpo had something akin to a gun, and it didn’t take much for Ardyn to figure out he was aiming for her.

Ardyn forced himself into a sprint. Pain radiated throughout his entire body, and as he got halfway to Serpo, he could feel the scourge begin to pool into the recesses of his form. The serum having worn off after gods knew how long everyone had been fighting. Ardyn warped, a black smoke of darkness became his body, and he appeared in front of Serpo. A primordial screech fell from his mouth as he whacked the gun out of the old mans arms, and grabbed him by his shoulders lifting him up several feet.

“I-Izunia! Please! Let’s--Let’s talk about--Ardyn!” He was promptly tossed like a piece of meat as soon as Ardyn’s name fell past his lips. Serpo groaned out as he forced himself back up, bracing himself for another onslaught while Ardyn screamed towards him. The guttural and piercing yell echoed throughout the halls of the lab.

Ardyn was about to disappear once more into darkness and travel to Caelan, but surprise overtook him when he felt her shove his body aside. Ardyn watched as Caelan teleported, hitting Serpo from behind and sent the old man tumbling. After Serpo landed, he was met with Caelan’s blade at his throat.

“Y-you---No, no--I want to see my Angela! You can’t take that from me!” Serpo cried out while Caelan lifted her sword. Both her hands grabbing the handle. She felt the warm flames of rage beckoning her to torture the man further until he begged to be put down.

“You’ll never hurt anyone again,” Caelan muttered. “I’m going to make sure of that.”

Before she could take the swing, Caelan felt something heavy wrap around her waist. Her body froze, breath hitching in her throat as the familiarity hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Cahl, as my shield, I command you not to strike him down.” Ardyn said softly. His voice, inhuman, pleaded to her.

“You don’t know what he’s done,” Caelan coldly sneered. Her whole body began to quake. “The people he twisted into monsters. The souls of the dead trapped in bodies they’re tortured in. I can’t let him live! I won't let him live!"

“Yes, he deserves to die but not by your hand.” Ardyn was more firm. His hands shuddered against Caelan. He leaned his face in closer to her ear, trying to soothe her.

“What happened to Tempus?”

“Tempus got away. They always get away! They always win and I’m fucking tired! I’m tired of it! I never should've let him go! I’m going to kill Tempus! He hurt you! I’m going to kill him and everyone here including this miserable fucker!” Caelan yelled out. Her eyes were brimming with tears. She almost swung the sword as Serpo let out a pleading cry. Ardyn’s right hand reached away from her waist and grabbed a hold of her right forearm. His grip was tight, keeping her in place before she could perform the action.

“You’re pissing me off!” Caelan bellowed.

“This isn’t you,” Ardyn reasoned with her. He could feel her rage. So much so that the scourge inside of himself reacted to it. A pleasant hum ran through his abdomen. It was difficult not to give into whatever temptation this plague had, but he was determined to see it through that Caelan didn’t bloody her hands any further.

“Why are you stopping me?” Caelan’s words began to break.

“Long ago,” Ardyn began. His voice a whisper. “A girl was forced into war and strife she didn’t ask for. She had no choice. Her choices were made for her.”

Caelan was quiet. Ardyn could feel her arms begin to convulse. The blade of her sword shook alongside its master. The arm Ardyn had around her waist gave a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know what’s going on inside your head, but I know you. I know you don’t like killing for sport. You’re not wired for it. However, I acknowledge I may be wrong.” Ardyn hoped the sincerity in his voice, no matter how corrupted it was due to the scourge, would reach some part of Caelan’s heart. Enough to make her think things through.

“Would you condemn me for killing him?” Caelan asked.

“No, no I wouldn’t.” Ardyn sighed. His breath uneven. “I want to give you what has been taken away numerous times: a choice.”

“Ardyn--”

“I’m going to let you go,” Ardyn swallowed after enunciating each word in a murmur. “Whatever you choose, I’ll be right here.”

True to his word, Ardyn's grip around her forearm loosened and eventually the hand retreated followed by the arm around her waist. The warmth of his chest to her back also faded. Caelan was beside herself. She looked straight down at Serpo who by now was a whimpering mess of pleads. He looked pathetic. And as he muttered his dead wife’s name, the one she had heard over and over while she maimed him in the elevator, Caelan felt her resolve disappear.

"You and Tempus will strike this side of the compound, and from the left, the rest of the Einherjar will lure the imperials into the desert." Julian finished the last of his plans with Caelan, moving a few pieces on a world map of Lucis. The inside of large guard tent was warm and welcoming. A stark contrast to the horrors that lay outside of it in the form of bodies and Einherjar destroying any evidence of their kills.

"You said you had a present for me earlier, what is it?" Caelan asked.

"I found another family for you," Julian smiled. "Father and two kids. The broodmare of a wife has already been dealt with. I figured since you had quite the experience today, you'd like another round. To get used to it. Tempus will meet you outside when we are finished conversing."

"You honor me." Caelan smiled.

"No, you my dear, honor me as you honor our family name."

Caelan could smell a metallic odor, like that of pork, indicating Julian's men were now burning corpses. She gripped the handle of her knife at her right side, applying pressure to keep the rest of her form stable and poised. She couldn't afford to give Julian a whiff of anything amiss. Not when she was moments away from claiming him as he did the poor souls that crossed his path over the years.

"Will you be joining us in the spoils when we attack the refugee compound?" Caelan asked. Excitement oozed in her words while Julian chuckled. She could see his amusement flash behind his eyes.

"Of course," Julian got up from his seat, walking over to Caelan. He placed a hand upon her shoulder. "Hunting the Nif Rats with you was always a dream of mine. That we could purge Eos of them together. Make your mom and little brother proud. I know things haven't been easy between you and I. There were many resentments either of us felt towards each other. I'd like to think we can put it behind us. Be a family again."

Caelan offered a sincere smile. Her expression faltered, eyes looking away from Julian while she felt her body quake.

"What's wrong, are you alright?" Julian asked.

The warmth of her fathers voice, the sound she used to associate protection and safety with, pulled at Caelan's heart strings. She sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, this was just a long time coming. I always wanted to make you proud, and never felt I'd meet expectation. I can rest knowing I did." Caelan answered, offering a shy shrug. She forced herself to look into Julian's eyes. Gods listening, don't let me lose my nerve. Caelan thought to herself.

"You make it sound as if you're going somewhere," Julian furrowed his brows. His hands cupped either side of Caelan's face, brushing away her braids as he smiled at her fondly. "You, my daughter, have always been my biggest joy. I'm so sorry I haven't said it often nor gave the courtesy of displaying my affections when you needed me most. I've been so caught up in making sure this world is safe for you, making sure no one from Niflheim will harm you, I lost sight of things."

"You don't have to apologize," Caelan shook her head. Her body moved forward, being embraced by Julian tightly. His face slightly buried in her neck while he sighed with contentment. She had him, and he had her.

"I love you."

Don't let me lose my nerve.

That was the moment Caelan struck the blade of her knife into the left side of Julian's throat then pulled out. His body immediately jerked back. A harrowing yell mixed with gurgling slushes of blood poured from his mouth. He stumbled backward, falling against his armor that had been hung up. The pieces falling to the ground as did he. Julian's hands gripped the wound, feeling the hot warmth of his blood collect into his palm. He stared up in horror as Caelan hovered above him, desperately trying to choke out a plead. His eyes a mix of melancholy and righteous anger as he screamed out upon Caelan's dagger meeting his soft flesh as she pounced on top of his body.

Caelan's mind went elsewhere as she cut and sliced. The squishing sounds of Julian's windpipe being crushed and violated drove her to prolong the mess. It was supposed to be quick. She knew all the points of the throat to make a clean kill, but her arm had a mind of its own. The primal exhilarations she forbade herself from enjoying while she chased the Niflheim mother and child, finally broke through her barriers. All of it pooled into the blade she sunk into Julian's neck, and her face couldn't help but contort into one of pure joy. Years of being dragged into Julian's genocide, countless times she had been broken down emotionally, the many moments in which he blamed her, a child herself, for the deaths of his wife and son; it all motivated her mind to take and take. Little by little, stripping Julian's life away, just as he chipped at whatever was left of her heart. He had broken her.

Julian's cries for aid alerted the Einherjar. Tempus, the first one on scene. Everybody who flooded near the tent were frozen in utter shock as they witnessed Caelan's body hovered over their commander. Watching while Caelan's knife made its final blow.

Julian, still hanging on by a thread, reached a violently shaken hand up to her. The bloodied palm gripped at Caelan's wrist, feeling her resolve begin to waver while his spirit started to leave. His eyes, void of life and taking in the image of his daughter for a final time, pierced through whatever strength Caelan had left. She was crying. Weeping further as his final words latched onto her ears, vowing to never cease haunting her for the trespass.

"W-what have you---become?"

The sword fell, striking the ground near Serpo’s head but didn’t meet his flesh. Caelan kept her head bowed as she quietly sobbed. There were quick flashbacks. Images of her father scrambling to keep pressure on his throat, and the look of horror upon his face knowing his daughter did this to him. Caelan's grip upon the hilt of her blade tightened to the point where blisters would surely form. She was finished. There was no more joy for the Homicida.

Ardyn’s right hand clasped her shoulder, giving a squeeze before he moved past her quivering form. Serpo was his burden. If anyone was to give the final blow, it was him. Ardyn knew had he not spared this man, none of this would’ve happened. His indecision almost cost a life. Perhaps many in between the time he had been allowed to live. Ardyn's inner daemon rose through, and he grabbed a hold of Serpo’s head and twisted after crouching down.

The loud snap of the old man’s neck being broken made Caelan wince. She didn’t have the heart to witness Ardyn's deeds. Not after all the faces of the people she killed ran amok through her head. She didn't look up while she heard Ardyn kill off whoever was left in the vicinity. All she wanted was peace. A calm that would sate the horrid feelings that ravaged her. Caelan was so caught up in her own misery, she didn't notice that Ardyn, who by now transformed further, stood in front of her. His inhuman growls and rasps had her freeze. The air went still.

Caelan forced her gaze up. Her reddened eyes meeting the deep yellow and blacks of his. She gulped, seeing the horns upon Ardyn's head and the veins plague every inch of his pale skin. The blood from his kills staining his clothes further added to the ethereal and primal look he carried. Ardyn gave off a predatory energy, yet there was a glow in his golden hues. Something akin to a plead, that she would be able to look past this and see he was still there. That he made a beast of himself for her sake. That if she considered herself a monster, so to would he join her in the experience. He held space for her. That he was there should she command it so.

There was no fear in Caelan's eyes towards him. It didn’t matter to her how monstrous he looked, or how many he had slain. He was still Ardyn, and it dawned on her, that she was still Caelan. Her taking life, was just another element. A piece of a puzzle that made the whole of her. It didn't completely define her just as Ardyn's past actions didn't completely define him. Both of them had done unspeakable things for survival and to accomplish goals. It was just as he said to her long ago, hell was lonesome. The company you keep in such a place makes it bearable.

She was crying again.

Ardyn’s gaze lingered on Caelan. Soft growls erupted from his throat out of instinct that couldn’t be helped. As he acknowledged her, he felt a sense of calm. She was alive. Spilling blood on her behalf, almost losing his humanity, it was well worth it.

They stared at each other, wordless and only the sounds of their breaths could be registered. Even as Ardyn began to revert, his daemonic features receding away and fading into a black like smoke, they didn’t say anything. It was only when Ardyn noticed the light returning to Caelan’s eyes did he pipe up.

“There she is.” Ardyn smiled. He reached a hand out, gently cupping the side of her face as he thumb wiped away the stranded tears on her skin.

Caelan tried not to, but she couldn’t suppress the small smile that tried to hide. Her face leaned into his touch.

“Here I am.” She murmured.

The moment was interrupted by Ardyn letting out a pained wince and he let go of her. The wounds he endured finally made their presence known. He watched as Caelan approached his left side, adjusting her arms and body so he could lean upon her for support. His left arm swung over her shoulders while her right supported his back and waist. The gentle grasp of her fingertips to his right hip had him shudder.

“I got you.” Caelan softly spoke. “Can you walk?”

“Hmm hmm.” Ardyn nodded.

They slowly began their trek out of the labs, making their descent out of hell. Ardyn allowed himself to lean more into Caelan, his body appreciating the much needed pressure and relief especially towards his wound sites.

“I was supposed to be the one rescuing you. This is rather humiliating, I must say." Ardyn let out a light hearted laugh. Caelan shook her head.

“I think we can call it even,” Caelan said sarcastically. Nevertheless she sincerely looked up at his face, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. Adoration mutually blessed to the other.

“Let’s both get out of here.”

#immortal shield #ardyn #ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #fanfic #fanfiction #story #original characters #man idk #struggled with this one #hope it delivered #shit goes down #ffxv #final fantasy xv #dotf based

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beebottle · 9 months

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The forest wept

Their shoulders dropped as they held limply onto the paling frame of their brother. The forest wept alongside them, leaves wilting, flowers curling, and branches drooping. Throughout all they had done, they had done it with the forest, as one. So now, as they mourned, it did too.

It must have been hours they sat there, until the cyprus tree ushered them away from the body towards the dafodils. There, they found soft cushioning to weep with the plants. Because as they were with the forest, the forest was with them.

#I had an idea for the end of a book and Idk where it would start #So here u go ig #Mc is one w/ the forest #(I imagine like fungi?? Like all connected to each other)#Shit goes down #(yk the plot of the book)#Brother/love interest/best friend dies #The forest wept #Birds refused to chirp #Flowers refused to grow #A thick fog refused to move #The cyprus tree ushered them away from the body #(bc cyprus represents mourning ykyk)#Do what you wish with this!!!

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beans-core · 7 days

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Percy Jackson the type of guy to wake up, remember he’s dating Annabeth Chase, and smile like a maniac.

#“what’s got you in such a good mood Percy?#“IM DATING ANNABETH!!!#percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo hoo #cotg #chalice of the gods #pjo text post #even when shit goes down #you know he always says he’s winning at life bc Annabeth is there #they’re so in love

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lunaicfantastic · 6 months

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fav part of gideon the ninth is for the first pre-canaan house chunk of the book, she's all "ugh I'm so normal surrounded by all these weirdo goth freaks when I blow this popsicle stand everyone will see how cool and normal and charming I am" and then she gets to canaan house and realizes that while she might have been a normie jock in the ninth house she is not exempt from being a goth weirdo who hides important doors behind tapestries and sneaks around in the dark so she doesn't have to talk to people. like we talk about her being a jock forced to be goth but nature v nurture babey she's not shedding that bone freak skin anytime soon

#gideon the ninth #and she realizes this its really funny #every time she does some ninth house shit shes like damn this is some ninth house shit :/#and then she does it anyway #i actually think its a cool piece of character work: gideon goes from seeing herself outside of/in opposition to the ninth house #in the beginning of the book #to feeling a part of/a soldier for the ninth house (and harrow specifically who gideon sees as the epitome of the ninth)#even during her brief backslide where she goes and talks shit with the eighth she can't really separate herself the way she could before #and when the chips are down and isaac and jeannemary are dead she wants two things: her longsword (a relic of aiglamene's training)#and harrow #so #yeah shes a jock but shes a goth weirdo freak jock #and shes a jock of the ninth #shut up anna

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sp0o0kylights · 2 months

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Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset.

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it.

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud.

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds.

Still.

Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink.

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations.

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say.

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’

Nope.

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure.

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake.

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them.

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through.

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing.

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse.

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something.

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here.

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may.

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?”

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house.

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him.

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.”

Likely a lot of things.

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it.

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give.

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.”

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice.

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked.

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle.

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat.

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth.

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.)

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?”

Wayne nodded once, slow-like.

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again.

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?”

“I did.”

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say.

Wayne took advantage.

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.”

“‘Bout trust.”

Eddie blinked at that.

“Trust.” He echoed flatly.

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--”

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.”

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him.

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.”

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway.

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with.

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.”

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like.

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns.

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.”

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.”

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had.

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.”

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.”

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.”

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through.

Wayne sat with him as he processed.

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did.

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked;

“What if he finds out?”

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home.

It took Wayne a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret.

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over.

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly. It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself.

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved.

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’

“He won’t.” Wayne said.

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.”

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side.

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other.

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest.

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose.

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine.

Hurt, absolutely, but alive.

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body.

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol.

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door.

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch.

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible.

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup.

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him.

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely.

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior.

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.)

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough.

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!”

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it.

Wayne rolled his eyes.

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door.

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries.

“I think I promised you a game, son.” Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall.

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

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