a nebula

“So I guess you could say Neel owes me a few favors, except that so many favors have passed between us now that they are no longer distinguishable as individual acts, just a bright haze of loyalty Our friendship is a nebula.” ― Robin Sloan, Mr Penumbra's 24 Hour Bookstore

[forcricket]

laurenisarealstar‌:

Two blue blasts of light shot out of Vail’s wand as he raised his other hand to give the command for Clovis to attack. During the day, the streets of Paris remained unaccustomed to the unnatural silence; but, the night belonged to the wizards and witches. The veil that separated their kinds heightened and a curfew had been issued. Due to the threat of Grindelwald, wizarding citizens shut themselves in their homes. There shouldn’t be anyone in the Ministry, but four individuals disobeyed the laws to find their own sense of justice.

The French Head Auror couldn’t understand why the brothers would risk their lives for such secrets. He shut down many of the alarms, but he understood someone would’ve been alerted. “Do you think I wouldn’t recognize your magic? Mr. Scamander, you must remember you have someone you need to protect,” he said, baring his teeth. “My darling beast will rip his heart out without a care in the world.”

The beastmaster continued to run with Dumbledore’s family tree in his grip. His soft gaze searched for his sibling’s eyes to search for his emotions. He hated how humans never could be his strongest suit, but he hated how painful empathy was for him. There was only ever one person worth such an attempt. “Don’t you dare, Theseus,” Newt murmured, swinging his wand to attempt a tying spell. He’d done the work before to muzzle the mouths of dragons.

The French auror's words hit their mark more easily than the spells, which Theseus tossed back toward the man with a flick of his bare hand over his shoulder. He did not break stride, but his eyes did cut to Newt, meeting his brother's gaze with a worried frown. It was not difficult to conjure images of the hulking beast tearing into the younger Scamander's chest, the blood that would pool in the streets, the short lived screams. “Newt...,” He began, but his brother's words cut him off. Tightening his jaw, he  twisted on his heel to face their pursuers, throwing a red spell from outstretched fingers.

Clovis' form quivered with Vail's command; the sound of his voice was almost enough to drive him to distraction. His jaws were spread wide, his tongue lolling, and he could almost taste the blue fabric of the beastmaster's coat. The spell's magic coiled about his snout and snapped his teeth together with an audible crunch. The monstrous beast skidded to a stop, lifting a massive paw to claw at his face, tearing free hunks of fur and flesh. Whining and growling, he scraped his snout against the cobblestones, fur bristling at the back of his neck.

[forcricket]

Nolan's kiss tasted of blood and alcohol and cigarettes. Darcy ran his tongue over the other's lips and teeth; the action was as instinctual as breathing. It took several moments for his vision to come into focus and several more for muffled sounds to become apparent. He felt as if he were underwater. The world was made up of swimming colors, shadows and light, and garbled noises that he could not readily identify. He prodded his foggy mind and remembered being surrounded by blankets and pillows, wishing Nolan a good day, dozing off as Nolan kissed him good-bye and his footsteps faded from the room.... then....

His body lurched upward and fingers of cold crawled along the surface of his skin. There was a gaping darkness in his memory between that moment and now; even the memory of the lazy morning was rapidly slipping through his fingers like a dream forgotten upon waking. He didn't know where he was and the harder he tried to remember, the more the darkness spread, eating away at the edges of his mind. Scrambling backward, he looked frantically about the room and clutched his chest. His heart was beating so hard, he feared it might burst. “Where.... where am I? What's happening to me?”

[forcricket]

In the span of a single ragged breath and a flutter of heartbeats, Clovis had burst through the doors of the Ministry and stumbled down the steps. He spilled into the street, pushing off against the cold cobbles with the fingertips of one hand, and started running again. Fingers trembling, he tugged at the collar of his shirt, finding it suddenly quite hard to breathe. His chest was already beginning to expand; his shoulders hunched and strained against the fabric of his rumpled suit jacket. With a shudder, Clovis shrugged out of the jacket, feeling a vague sense of dismay as it fell behind him to the damp street. He couldn't allow himself to focus on the loss of the jacket or the tie that was now fluttering into a dirty puddle at the edge of the sidewalk. His eyes were fixed on the fleeing wizards, and his bones were being broken and remade.

He staggered and fell, scraping the heels of his hands and his knees against the uneven stone, but he hardly noticed. There were brief, but terrible flashes of pain when the base of his spine extended into a tail and claws tore free his human nails from their beds. His mouth was crowded with teeth now- teeth that yearned to tear flesh and shatter bone. He hadn't realized he was running again; his long strides were quickly bringing him closer and closer to the fugitives. Nostrils flared at as the scents of hundreds of animals mingled together with the distinct tang of whiskey.  The one smelling of whiskey was just ahead of the one who smelled of prey, so the monster that had once been Clovis spread his jaws wide and snapped at the fluttering end of a long, blue coat.

[forcricket]

laurenisarealstar‌:

His mind felt warped from all those months in Kai’s head. When the other man obtained his empathy, the blond gained the shadows. He wanted him, couldn’t have him, and their coven took him away from their family.  It was a desperate move to choose time travel, but it didn’t matter in the end. Luke collided into his psychotic, older brother and warped him out of the creepy mist in the woods. “Hello, Kai,” he murmured, releasing the man onto the motel floor. “My name is Luke Parker.”

Kai's head was spinning. One moment he was standing amid fog and branches, waiting for the ritual to be complete, and the next moment, he was sprawled on the floor and gazing up at the popcorn ceiling of an old motel room.  With a grunt, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and stared blankly at the stranger that stood before him. Luke something.  The corner of his mouth quirked. “Wait, I think I understand... you're trying to stop me from becoming the leader of the coven, aren't you?” He stood and brushed himself off in a more dramatic fashion than was warranted. “Well, my friend, it isn't going to work.”

[forcricket]

laurenisarealstar‌:

What others feared felt like home to Newt; the Forbidden Forest’s weeping trees curled down on the brothers with a protective aura. He breathed in the crisp air and recognized the silence. His fellow students didn’t acknowledge their place among the wilds, but he’d teach them for his creature’s sake and his own.

He won’t admit how much it meant for him for his sibling to walk amongst these woods. If he failed him, it’d be a disgrace to the person who taught him he need not face the blackness alone. With a stroke of a hand, Theseus’s warmth hummed in his core. Newt smiled brightly at the familial magic that sung to him in both a familiar and foreign language.

His gaze drifted to the floating creatures who lit up in lion golds and reds. They buzzed in dizzying loops that sparkled in the night. “The other wizards and witches haven’t made a name for ‘em,” he replied, leaning against his older brother. “I don’t think I’ll say anything. It’ll be bad if they got hurt because of me.”

“What are you gonna do after Hogwarts, ‘Seus?”

Theseus' eyes shone in the light of the glowing creatures. He reached a hand out into their midst, letting their minuscule wings and feet brush against his knuckles and fingertips. “Are you going to give them a name, Newt?” He tore his eyes away from the display to regard his brother with no small amount of pride. “I know you've already sketched them in your book and figured out something you'd like calling them.”  

At the question, his brows furrowed and his smile dimmed.  Slowly, he lowered himself down to sit on one of the old, fallen logs. “I'm not sure. I used to think I could be a professional Quidditch player or something fun like that.... but I've been talking to Dumbeldore. He thinks...,” Theseus rubbed the back of his neck and lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “He thinks maybe I should look into working at the ministry.”

After speaking , his eyes shifted to Newt to gauge his reaction. “I'd have to work harder... fix my grades...”

[forcricket]

laurenisarealstar‌:

@forcricket

He wanted to die ever since he joined the Ministry family. Their itchy suit robes didn’t have the comfort of his blue jacket, but he refused to be selfish with the Dark Lord on the rise. He lounged on the Head Auror’s sofa with a quill in his hand. “I understand why I don’t have a life, but you?” With the other, Newt nudged the little bowl of fire whiskey forward so Pickett and Honeysuckle could drink. His eyes blurred as he stared down at his copious amounts of paperwork. 

The darkness felt long even in good company. “Voldemort won’t kill us in one night, Theseus. You should go to the pub with your auror friends…” An awkward grin. “Despite my concerns, it seems that the consensus is Harry Potter is lying…” He paused, head shooting up to stare at the turning clock on the wall. 

IMMINENT DANGER. 

“Is that normal?”

Theseus had shed his heavy coat and draped it over the back of the chair tucked beneath his desk. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows; his  calloused hand tapped the handle of his wand against his lower lip.  “Hm?” Turning his attention away from the pages of his own paperwork, he looked to his brother and offered a small shake of his head. “I prefer to stay here and work. Despite what everyone says, I can't help but agree with the boy.”

Settling the papers into his lap, he rubbed his eyes and did his best to muffle a yawn in his palm. At the question, he dropped his hands. “No, no it's not normal, Newt.” Sighing, he pushing himself to his feet and lightly pressed his teeth into the tip of his wand handle.

“That is precisely why I have to keep working. Something big is coming, Newt... something very bad. I need to be here when it arrives. I need to be ready.”

[forcricket]

The man had finally ceased to writhe beneath the lethifold's dark form, allowing Arnold to begin feasting upon scuffed boots and the fleshy toes beneath. The fellow had done well- he had made it all the way to the door of the bedroom before being stopped. The rest were not fairing as well. Now that Arnold was awake, Ava had slipped from where she rested in the space between wall and bookshelf and made her way slowly into the hall. The figure she had encountered was now sitting on the floor, legs spread out, back against the wall; she was delicately unfurling his entrails with her long, dark fingers.

There was a sizable hole in the wall of the entryway with a spray of water erupting from a shattered pipe. The fountain was soaking the tore button down shirt of a rigid man who had a thick coil of scales tightened about his throat. The basilisk nosed at the petrified wizard's pockets, smelling some morsel or another. If the screaming from the parlor did not wake their caretaker, one of the dark feline like creatures was making his way back toward the bedroom, swishing his lion's tail behind himself.

Gracefully, he bounded onto the bed and ran his rough tongue against his cheek and jaw.

[forcricket]

laurenisarealstar‌:

Their disagreements over the proper terminology of their sires reached centuries old at this point. The same annoyance occurred for his insistence on calling his brother Niklaus, rather than Klaus. This question was another of their games to test each other’s patience. It was difficult not to indulge him when they both already knew the answer. He’d give the hybrid anything if the other man remained under his supervision.

He let the blood drip from his wrist to his brother’s lips with a sigh. His free hand raised to lower the Strix from their defensive positioning.  “They are not pets,” Elijah muttered, rolling his eyes. “If I wanted a ‘house pet’ as you’re apt to call them, I would have paid money.” His gaze swept across their faces with an emotion akin to love. “My fledglings will change the world with their capabilities.”

He motioned for his second-in-command with a wave and a glance. “Does Tristan do nothing to create a certain delight to your senses?” There was a teasing grin to his smile as he turned back and leaned forward closer to Klaus’s face. “I’m surprised considering you’re not one to share.” Elijah mockingly sniffed the air. “Is that the smell of desperation for your favor at my door?”

At the simple gesture, the Strix slowly began to lower themselves back to their couches and cushions and spots upon the floor. The conversation between the siblings was one stale with age, and some of the older members of the Strix could nearly recite it line for line at this point. Still, when their sire's gaze fell upon each of them in turn, the Strix all glowed with pride and utter devotion for their master. Had Elijah's sibling not been present, they all would have risen at his glance and gone to him to brush fingertips and lips against his skin and the fabric of his suit. A few of the newly blooded members unconsciously drifted closer.

Tristan stepped to Elijah's side when beckoned. His lips turned up in a slow, warm smile at the praise; it faded just a little at the realization that this would be no quick visit. The others had begun to notice the heavy scent now leaking through the spaces between the front doors and the windows and their frames.  

Klaus' eyes fell to study the curves of his sibling's mouth, running the tip of his tongue along his blood smeared lips. “I don't know, brother. Tris has always seemed a bit of a bore.” He took a step backward, smirking. In a flash, he had moved to throw open the doors wide. “That, my dear brother, is the smell of fun. I'm not surprised you're unfamiliar with it.” He moved more slowly back to the place where Elijah and Tristan stood, leading a crowd of men and women of varying ages. The women wore dresses with plunging necklines; the men wore suits with sleeves rolled to their elbows and unbuttoned collars.  

Spreading out his arms, Klaus arched a brow. “What do you say, Elijah? Care to show us a good time?”

[forcricket]

laurenisarealstar‌:

He played the smooth tones on his piano, which infected the entire room with a hazy reverie. Elijah’s club gave him a sense of humanity throughout his existence.  The vampire felt like he progressed as he improved his business, but it also offered a focal point for the Strix. A rigorous atmosphere that didn’t allow them to indulge in their darker instincts.  

This gentle aura left the moment he scented his brother’s cloying smell. He was an alpha in every regard; the scent drove normal men and women wild. His sires were no less affected since the laxness in the room dissipated into a tense fear. As for him, it brought a smile to his face and caused him to rub the tiredness out of his eyes.

His speed allowed him to appear in front of Tristan and his sibling in a blink of an eye. “I see my attempts at teaching you politeness and civility have not stuck, Niklaus,” Elijah murmured, reaching up to strong the sharp line of the hybrid’s cheekbone. His brows crinkled as he then pondered, “Now who has bored you enough to make you come to me today?”

A muscle in Klaus' jaw twitched at the sound of his full name, but he only leaned into his brother's touch and allowed his smirking mouth to open just enough to expose his fangs. “My apologies. I did not realize civility was expected when conversing with house pets.” His eyes cut over Elijah's shoulder to regard Tristan. Klaus held the sire's gaze as he brought his hands up to cup Elijah's wrist. With the edge of one nail, he brought to the surface a single, perfect crimson droplet. The Strix were rising from their places now, nostrils flaring at the scent of their sire's blood. Tristan kept his eyes locked with Klaus' even as the hybrid extended the tip of his tongue and ran it across the inside of Elijah's wrist, sweeping away the drop of blood.

“I was sitting at home,” He murmured into his skin. “With my pets and I thought to myself, 'Elijah has not once invited me and my playthings to his soirees.' So, I decided we would just drop in and see what all the fuss was about. The humans speak very highly of your club. Though I can't imagine why.” He let his eyes rove over the sprawled mortals and the Strix, who were coiled like springs where they stood or reclined, ready to pounce. The scent of Elijah's blood still hung heavy in the air.

“What do you say, Elijah?” Klaus' lips curled into a wide smile. “Might we join you or should we seek amusement elsewhere?”

[forcricket]

The weekend had only just begun and already there were mortals draped half conscious over the chaise and the recliners with glasses dangling from limp fingertips. Booze dripped from the brims of the delicate cups and pooled on marble floors and carpets. Music rose in erratic, jazzy bursts from puffed cheeks and scampering fingers across bone white piano keys. The members of the Strix were stretching themselves like cats, moving through the toppled furniture and skirting pools of spilled spirits. They gathered up the mortals into feverish dances or nuzzled sleepily into warm necks and chests and wrists. Blood and alcohol flowed freely.  

Tristan heard his name called here and there amid the music and drunken laughter, but his eyes were hunting for someone particular. His search carried him into the expansive parlour just as someone else  entered through the foyer. A hush began to wash over the members of the Strix, but the mortals were too far gone with music and drink to know that death had passed the threshold. Tristan took a slow step backward and dipped his head forward. “Sir...”

“I'm here to see my brother.” Klaus interrupted. “Will you go fetch him for me? There's a good boy.”

[forcricket]

laurenisarealstar‌:

Newt never managed to pull off the haughtiness that other wizards and witches expected from a pure-blood from an old family. He didn’t have the nerve to command a room. In truth, he relied on his spell work rather more than on his softer personality. While Theseus could scatter the Gryffindors who circled around the box like vultures with a look, the younger Scamander needed a more overt threat. 

A flick of his wand and wolves that burned red-hot charged through the summer grass. Fiendfyre was dark magic, but an illusion didn’t harm anyone, even if the flames seemed real to the untrained eye. 

Luckily, the niffler relied more on its nose rather than its sight. He would never want to scare the poor beast after the ordeal it went through.  When he knelt next to the box, Newt managed to tug it open and offered the creature inside a few galleons and worms in his open palm. There was no point in offering soothing words if he didn’t lace them with action first.

The Niffler heard the movement outside of the box and smelled the tang of another creature's fear. Nervously, he scuttled in little circles about the floor of the box and finally pressed his haunches back against one of the walls. His eyes locked onto the box lid as it opened, but something strange happened. The hand that drifted down in front of him was holding some things bright and some things wriggling. The Niffler felt the gaping chasm that was his stomach and crawled forward, sniffing the air.

One little hand reached out to snatch up a coin, which reflected the warm light of the sun, his only comfort during his captivity. Once the first coin was tucked away for closer inspection later, he grasped a worm and shoved it into his bill. The Niffler nosed Newt's fingers and nipped at the skin.

[forcricket]

laurenisarealstar‌:

He stayed when Matt’s own family and friends left him alone. When they called Daredevil an addict, the system supported his justice. It didn’t make him feel because this path would end in tragedy, but he didn’t travel in the dark by himself. 

Wasn’t the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen one of Khonshu’s protectorate? After all, the devil traveled only ever at night.

His ears picked up the rapid pace of the detective’s heart. He wanted him, and the pieces of a broken man’s sanity felt glad he could, at least, answer this request. “I don’t think you’re interested in talking, Mr. Knight,” Matt replied, lifting the other’s mask and lunging forward to bring their lips together. The blood on his mouth smeared upon the other man’s skin. “Your carnal instincts are telling me something different…”  

A twist of hands, legs, and he had him on his bed. His thighs bracketed the larger man’s sides and he loomed down at him, considering. “I’ll let you stay if you can make me hurt.” While grin did turn sharp, there was a hint of Matthew’s warmth behind it.

“Deal?”

The moment those familiar fingers began to tug up the edges of the white mask, Mr. Knight knew he was in trouble. The mask was as essential to him and Moon Knight as a face of flesh and blood. His lips parted and air whooshed between them in a sharp intake of breath. The world felt off kilter when the mask was gone; he could count on one hand the amount of times he had been in control of their shared body without it. His heart beat quickened and the edges of the world grew blurred. Lips collided with his own and the warmth and taste of blood drew him sharply back to the present.

Then the sensation of falling and the soft embrace of the mattress and sheets. His mind was reeling with the pressure of Matt's legs against his hips, and in those few moments between the fall and the twist of a grin on the other man's face, he did something he hardly ever had occasion to do. He closed the doors on the other personalities despite their protestations and reached up to grab a fistful of the devil's shirt. He tugged him closer and muttered an agreement as his teeth sought to capture his lower lip.

After giving it a rough bite and a tug, he let himself fall back against the pillows. “You have to promise me... that when we are finished... you will talk to us...” His words were low and rough, almost a growl. “Then we have a deal...”

[forcricket]

laurenisarealstar‌:

In a perfect world, Peter would keep his best friend under the blankets in their shared apartment. They would stay there for an eternity and they wouldn’t need to deal with Norman’s legacy. This reality wasn’t what happened to either of them. Harry’s sickness pushed his father off an edge that the spider didn’t even consider possible.

When he found him, the Osborn heir had been encased with an alien in a tube. The results were catastrophic with mass terrorism and psycho killers abound. He wasn’t even sure if they wanted Spider-Man or any viable target to target their messed-up feelings at. If Harry didn’t learn to use his symbiote, he’d be an easy target for the likes of Octavius and Toomes. Peter stared at him worriedly behind the glasses that sat askew on his face. “I love you, Harry,” he replied, crawling down from the walls to sit beside him.

“The pieces will fit together soon enough if you keep working on your powers.” His eyes drifted across the blackness that rested against the other’s pale skin. “Just… forget any fears of height…”  

Sweat beaded on Harry's brow; his breaths were coming in shallow gasps. Slowly, he climbed straight up, hand over white knuckled hand, as if the thick, black webbing were a rope in gym class. The mention of heights drew a breathless laugh from between his gritted teeth. “Easy for you to say... you've had time to get used to swinging around.” Spots began to flare at the edges of his vision. He was always bad at gym class. His shoulders and arms were beginning to shake, and inside of his head, he could hear a low humming.  That voice was whispering in his thoughts began speaking of hunger and the taste of organs; Harry imagined he could feel its tongue tracing along his spine.

With a shiver, he slid back down the webbing and landed unsteadily on his feet. “It's talking again, Pete.” He tapped a fingertip against his own temple and swallowed. “I think it's hungry...”

[forcricket]

laurenisarealstar‌:

Peter didn’t feel like he had come home until their lips came together. He couldn’t forgive himself for being gone for so long, but a glimmer of a chance rested in the hand against his cheek. This hope made him feel warmer compared to the touch of anyone else he’d ever encountered. When Spider-Man became a concern, his loved ones tended to cut and run.

He offered a small smile. “I’d never leave you out of my own volition.” He whispered as gentle as the breeze against the other’s mouth. “You gotta believe that…” While he wanted to reach forward and draw him closer, he couldn’t help but flinch at the fist that rammed down on the counter. “It’s great to see you too, Mr. Knight.” The uneasy tremor in his words betrayed the worry that grew in his consciousness. He knew how unusual it was for a switch to come on so quickly.

The young man stayed and waited for them to find their composure. He tried to keep his breathing level, but the air came out in hitches after the snapshot. “I won’t… I’ll be better… You don’t have to forgive me, but…” His hands shook from the shame and failure. “I never wanted to go…” It took all his energy for to Peter to jump down from the island to kneel beside Marc. He wrapped his arms around him and pressed gentle kisses to his face. “I never wanted to go…”

Marc was trying to keep breathing. It had been a long while since he had felt the weight of consciousness. His body felt impossibly heavy and stiff, but it was worth it to hold Peter in his arms again. Closing his eyes, he let himself relax beneath the soft touch of Peter's lips against his face. Words registered finally, and his brows furrowed. As much as he hated to do so, he grasped Peter's arms gently and eased him back. His legs stretched out across the floor and he attempted to settle Peter onto his lap. “Peter...,” His voice was quiet. “Peter, it wasn't your fault.”

Guilt sank like a stone into his gut.  “It's ours. We should have realized what was happening and come looking for you.” He gave a short, mirthless chuckle. “We knew something was wrong from the beginning, but we thought you had just gotten tired of us.  Or maybe just tired of me.” He couldn't look Peter in the eye. Instead, he reached for Peter's hands and cradled them in his, running the pads of his thumbs along Peter's knuckles.  “Mr. Knight kept trying to tell me that something wasn't adding up with him, but...  we've been paranoid before... we've … I mean we've seen Khonshu himself sitting in our living room … “

His voice trailed off, and he pulled one hand away from Peter to rub at his own eyes. “We should have come after you and we didn't... we're sorry... We will understand if you....” He couldn't say the words aloud, not after he had just begged him to stay.

[laurenisarealstar]

@forcricket

They didn’t allow students into The Forbidden Forest, but Newt refused to listen to that rule. The rule was for blinkered people who didn’t understand the beauty of magical creatures. He wanted his brother Theseus to understand this love.

He dragged him out into the dark amongst the weeping trees. The moon rose high in the sky; despite the glow of its light, it couldn’t chase away the cold. The young boy shivered, and he wished Flitwick hadn’t insisted on teaching a warming charm to 2nd years only.

While he would bring Leta, the smaller boy didn’t want to bother her while she slept for rule-breaking adventures. “Happy graduation, “Seus!” Newt held out a small jar containing multi-colored, musical fireflies he raised. “If you let ‘em out, you’ll see something beautiful…”

[forcricket]

Theseus clutched his brother's hand tightly as he scanned the shadowed boughs that knit together above them. He gave a low whistle to cut through the quiet and felt a little thrill of panic and excitement when the sound was returned to him from the gloom. Even after all of this time, he had not ventured into the Forest beyond scurrying across the boundary line and standing there with his back to the trees while shivering classmates counted down the seconds. He held the record.

Now that he was there, he found that it was not so frightening- at least not in the way the others believed. He was humbled by its vastness; he had never before felt so small, so young, and so inexperienced. His attention was drawn back to the moment and his brother when he felt him shivering. With a grin, he brushed the pad of his thumb across the inside of Newt's wrist, sending magical warmth from his fingers into his brother's skin.

A warmth of a different kind sparked in his chest, and despite himself, his eyes began to sting. He cradled the jar and brought it to his face, staring in awe at the little creatures inside. “What are they?” His fingers were already twisting the jar's lid and tearing it free. “How did you find them?”

[laurenisarealstar]

@forcricket

Mr. Knight sounded holy; all Daredevil wanted to do was cradle him in his arms and bite out his throat. Matt, on the other hand, did nothing but listen to the slow beat of his heart. The repetition resonated like a hammer against an anvil through the buzz in his right ear.

Foggy and Karen adored the softer, gentler man, while Elektra and Stick clawed out his grace with an ease. He didn’t know who the system would choose, but there was no small part of him that felt terrified of the answer.

His darker nature demanded more than a pound of the Kingpin’s flesh and Matt didn’t have the strength to deny those flames. He tugged the detective down hard. “You’re not safe if you stay,” the Devil rasped into his ear, fingers curling into the lapels of the other man’s suit. His lips close to the skin but not touching—never touching. “I’m a danger to you. Leave.”

“I’ll be fine on my own.”

[forcricket]

Mr. Knight prided himself on being the only member of their system who could control his emotions. In this moment, with the devil of Hell's Kitchen clutching his lapel and dragging him within inches of that blood smeared mouth, those faintly swollen lips and bared teeth, Mr. Knight found his hold on the reins slipping. In their shared mind space, he stood among the others of the system with a hand over his mouth while his head shook slowly. I want to kiss him, he told the others, but Steve reminded him that their lover was in a fragile state of mind at present and it wouldn't be proper. Even so, it was hard to keep from sinking his teeth into the other's parted lips.

“I happen to be quite fond of danger.” The corner of his mouth quirked. He knew his thoughts would be obvious to Matt just from the pace of his heartbeat.  A gloved hand lifted to cup the other's jaw delicately. “I know that you would be alright on your own, but I am not sure we would be. Allow us to be selfish, won't you?” Both hands fell to rub the bloodied knuckles coiled about the white fabric.

“May we sit with you a while? We've been very worried and it is quite the relief to see you in one piece... breathing... talking...”

[forcricket]

The cage was little more than a box, magically sealed to keep the Niffler from flattening himself enough to squeeze between the lid and the box proper. The little creature had given up trying to claw or bite through the box and instead spent his days sprawled on his stomach in one of the box's corners. A beam of sunlight spilled through the small holes poked through the top and fell golden and bright onto the floor. He liked to paw at the warm spots and bathe in them while he caught snatches of sleep. 

It was when the sunlight faded that he began to grow restless. When the warmth was gone, the voices and hands came.  In the beginning, he had bristled his fur and tried to make himself look more frightening, but that had done nothing to stop them. Now, he preferred to curl in on himself, become small as possible until it was over.