Bring your daylight, bring your dark~
~into your darkness, I’ll shine a light
A Dying Light Fan Fiction and sequel to Latchkey Hero.
There are three kinds of people in this collapsed world. The many who’ve accepted their lot. The rest that claws for survival at any cost. And those rare few who continue to live unabashedly—shamelessly—even with their humanity a fragile thing.
Aiden finds Villedor at what he hopes to be the end of a too-long search for what’s left of his family; an end to a life he lived alone, one muddy, dark road at a time.
It’s all he’s ever known and he’s far too young to be so weary.
Kyle Crane, his Paper Tiger by his side, seeks Villedor in a final effort to turn back time on a curse that threatens to unravel them both; to make them forget what they so stubbornly kept on living for.
It’s far too hard to fight and, sometimes, forgetting is a tempting mercy.
Babar Kizil was totally full of shit. Garlic? Wolfsbane? Cinnamon? Eat all that and your lycanthropy was cured? Holy shit, no, that wasn’t how this worked.
And Kyle would know.
30k words, completed, rated M for Crane’s language, Werewolf AU
Kyle had been bitten by a lot of things in his life, even before he’d landed in Harran.
A dog (not the dog’s fault, he’d woken it up). A cat (totally the cat’s fault). A rabbit (seriously?). A shark (yep, also totally Kyle’s fault). Women (consensual). Men (also consensual). And a werewolf (not consensual).
There were more, but we’d be here all day. And you know what? You should probably read this fic if you like Kyle Crane and if you like werewolves and especially if you like both, plus zombies, a bright-eyed Rahim Aldemir, a non-binary Death, and, uh, puppies.
The man who runs laps in my heart.
We conclude Episode 2: Welcome to Horizon’s Crown.
At the tender age of fifteen-and-something Varrett had given in to peer-pressured curiosity and bought what he’d assumed to be a flake of dragon scale.
He’d squeaked his way through the purchase with the elegance of a freaked out teen, and then he’d carried the thin, red chip in its tiny tin for weeks before he’d finally worked up enough rebellious courage to lock himself into his room onboard the Dream of Neverland. She’d been moored at an orbital island above Yaer’Ard right then, her navigation and communications systems in pieces after a rough ride through the Well. Repairs had been slow. Money tight. And he’d been too young to care about any of it.
He’d dimmed his room’s lights to the point of them being useless, had laid back on his bunk, and plopped the flake on the tip of his tongue. Then he’d waited. And waited. And waited, the Neverland quietly cycling through her routines beyond the cabin bulkheads.
Dragon flakes were meant to crack your eyes open, to let you see through those mortal trappings blinding you so you could spy on people’s souls. Including your very own. That’s what it said on the tin, anyway. Literally.
Well. That’d been a load of bull, hadn’t it?
When the dragon scale had finally hit him (hard), it’d been shit. He’d hallucinated for hours, had seen the Neverland’s walls turn liquid and threaten to drown him, and watched in helpless horror as squirming tendrils made from molten iron had tried to squeeze the life out of him.
But it’d all just been in his head. The hallucinations had sat on the surface, a trip hardly any worse than his first horror VR flick experience, with the exception that he hadn’t been able to unplug. Fucked up as the shit he’d seen had been, he’d known it hadn’t been real, even if it had done its very best pretending.
This? This shit right now?
It was worse. Oh, it was so much worse.
I made a home video for a mutual over on Tumblr about how to get into the Dev Room in Villedor.
Your climb begins on the first floor of the basement in the VNC Tower and with a lengthy wait for an elevator.
Please don’t forget to a) do little whoops and screeches as you dangle from the grappling hook and b) open the fridge and c) sit down everywhere and d) generally turn the place upside down. Plus, listen to Horizon.