#//Though you should still expect me to respond slow because college is kicking my ass...

[president-loki-official]

My dearest Katherine,

It's come to my attention that I have some urgent business to take care of on my native timeline. I know not when, or if, I will return. It is with a heavy heart that I must leave you. Please do not drive yourself mad in search for me, for any attempt would be futile. I'm deeply sorry, but I fear this is goodbye.

Regretfully no longer yours,

Loki

The moment I left the letter on her nightstand and slipped out of the window from which I came, I felt a piece of me die. Everything in me ached to turn around and return to her, but I couldn't do that.

Ignoring Irani's request for a peaceful meeting wasn't a new act on my part. In fact, I'd made it a habit. It just so happened that the one night I'd ignored her to spend time with Katherine had set her off. In a matter of hours after I'd left, Xandar had declared war on my Earth.

The conflict was brief, as far as wars go, and the threat of Xandar was neutralized. Now that they were newly under my control, I no longer needed to worry about them... and one face filled my mind. I wanted to see her again.

But, could I? After the heartache I presumably caused her, could I shatter her world once more by returning to her as if nothing had happened?

My eyes catch my own reflection in my nameplate once again. My hair was askew, and my face was smudged with dirt from the deciding battle. But, my eyes were wild. Searching. Mad.

My office suddenly seemed too clean for that of a man who destroys everything he touches. The hands that promised to cherish her had destroyed her within the day. I should've known better than to give in to myself. I was selfish, and thus, cruel.

With a bitter laugh, I swipe the nameplate from my desk, and it falls to the floor with a heavy thud. I quickly send the rest of my things to join it, swiping my desk clean. But, that isn't enough. With a loud shout, I throw my hands down, sending a vibration through the room that causes paintings to fall from the walls, and books to fall from nearby shelves.

The glint of my nameplate brings my attention back to my pathetic reflection. For someone who'd just won a war, I'd never looked nor felt so defeated.

[foolgobi65]

Bookstore AU, meet messy, “i know that it’s the thought that counts but this doesn’t even look like you thought about it.” - for Urmila/Lakshmana?

k this probably borrows from the characterizations of “sita’s sister” but since the focus isnt on sita and rama we can brush off their whole emotional arc and say it happened while they were getting to know each other, probably on some online forum for sherlock holmes fans or something. i’ve never actually written urmilla or lakshmana before, so you’ll have to tell me if the characterization works!! i think they’d mellow out after a bit, and bond over their shared slightly wicked senses of humor and protective instincts when said instincts arent leading them to clash with each other lol. thank you for the super fun prompt, i hope you like it!!!

---

Urmilla frowns. “These books don’t belong here!” 

Technically, neither does Urmilla -- it’s her sister Sita who’s supposed to be meeting her internet friend/potential lover at the cafe attached to Sita’s favorite bookstore today, the only day Rama is apparently in Bombay before he has to fly back to America where he’s finishing up his MBA. 

“I’m just saying it’s suspicious,” Urmilla had said, watching from her perch on Sita’s bed as Sita tried to find a pair of earrings that would suit the color top she was wearing. She reached for a pair of gold ones, but put them back when Urmilla wrinkled her nose and picked up a pair of silver jhumkas. 

“It’s not suspicious at all,” Sita had responded. “He was only here a week, and spent those days with his family in Ayodhya. I’m just lucky we were able to find the time to meet at all after all these years.” 

“That’s my point! You’ve known each other for years, and you expect me to believe that the first time he manages to find the time to see you in person is for a few hours on the way out? If he really loved you--”  

“Urmilla!” Sita shrieked, dropping the jhumka she had been trying to thread through her left earlobe. “We’re just friends!” 

Urmilla, noting the sky-blue kurta Sita had chosen to wear -- the one everyone had always told Sita made her complexion look particularly lovely -- had rolled her eyes. As always, Sita was too soft for this cold, cruel world and so it fell to Urmilla, her intrepid younger sister to stand watch against all those who would try to break her elder sister’s heart. Sita had told her that under no circumstances was Urmilla to observe her “meeting” with Rama, but Urmilla had only kissed Sita’s cheek goodbye and, a few minutes later, changed her top, put on her glasses, and rode her scooter to the bookshop. 

“And how would you know?” a male voice asks in response to Urmilla’s earlier exclamation. He’s tall, Urmilla notes immediately, and handsome too -- but the expression on his face is slightly incredulous, as if he doesn’t believe that Urmilla could understand the mysteries of the library arts, and Urmilla feels the first tingling of rage at the base of her spine. She’s using a gap between books, the one she supposes the books he’s carrying are meant to fill, in order to spy on Rama and Sita sitting at the cafe table near the register, but, confident that Rama seems in no rush to do anything but stare across his coffee and smile at Sita like a dope, Urmilla turns to face her new adversary. 

“Do you work here or something?” Why else would he be carrying the books, she thinks, but still she’s learning to verify her assumptions before flying off the handle. 

He takes a step forward, setting the books on the edge of a random shelf. “And if I do?” 

Urmilla huffs. “These books are sorted alphabetically, rather than first being grouped by genre.”  

The man crosses his arms. “Genre can be subjective! And what if an author dabbles in more than one -- should I be spreading their work out throughout the store?” 

“Yes,” Urmilla insists, plucking out a romance from next to a robot-fantasy. “I know it’s the thought that counts, but this doesn’t even look like you thought about it! When someone’s browsing for another romantic comedy after enjoying their last one so much, should they just be wandering the store reading spines and hoping for a title that speaks to them?” 

The book leaves Urmilla’s hand, as the man flips it over and reads the back description. “Yes,” he says in return.  

“If you really believe that,” Urmilla says, somehow even more aggravated when this handsome, stupid stranger’s attention is diverted, “then you’re shit at your job and you should probably be looking for a new career.” 

For a moment, she wonders if she’s gone too far: the man looms tall, and briefly seems like he might be genuinely upset. Urmilla, like her sister, is of an average height for South Asian women and is at quite the disadvantage. Her left hand slips into her pocket where she keeps her keys, and the pocket knife attached. 

Almost like he knows what she’s thinking, the anger fades from his expression and he takes a step back. Urmilla exhales, relaxing her grip. 

“I don’t,” he admits sheepishly, “work here, I mean.” He hands her back the book. “I’ve spent the last few hours pretending I do so that I can keep an eye on my elder brother. He’s on a first date, but all of us brothers swear he’s been in love with the girl for years.” 

Intrigued, Urmilla raises an eyebrow. The cafe is a famous spot for first dates amongst a particular set, so it’s not exactly extraordinary that there might be another younger sibling hidden in the stacks. “Friends from college?” 

He snorts. “I wish. He’s never actually met the girl, but they’ve been chatting over the internet for god knows how long. At all hours of day and night too, smiling like an idiot while he types on his phone.” 

Urmilla blinks. It can’t be... “Why haven’t they met?” 

He shrugs. “As far as he’s told me, it’s partially because of her schedule and partially because of his. I think she was abroad when they first met, and then by the time she came back he got the offer to do his MBA in America. During the holidays, they’re both either working or with their families.” 

Sita was in the UK two years ago, Urmilla thinks. And she was working in Calcutta all last summer, so busy that she couldn’t even spare time for Urmilla to come and visit for a day. 

“Oh,” she says, realizing that this might be a golden opportunity. “And what type of man is your older brother? Has he had many girlfriends before this? Would he let his wife work after marriage? Does he watch porn from websites that don’t verify that the actors have safe working conditions?” 

“What,” the man splutters, and yes the last question was probably a little too much. But still, Urmilla thinks, all of these are questions of vital importance when scoping out Sita’s potential boyfriend -- who thinks this is a date! Just friends, Urmilla’s ass! 

“Would he let his wife work after marriage,” Urmilla tries again, deciding for now that she can save the question about his porn habits to ask Rama directly. Now that she thinks about it, Sita had mentioned that he had younger brothers. Pity that Urmilla had never asked Sita about their names. 

“All three of our mothers work!” Rama’s brother exclaims, and Urmilla’s eyes widen in simultaneous shock, horror, and delight. 

“Is your father a polygamist?!” she shrieks, probably smiling in the way Sita always says makes her look deranged. Urmilla just knew there was something wrong with Rama, who Sita always speaks about as if he could thread the constellations if he wanted. Oh, this is too good to keep on the inside. “I knew it!” 

“No!” Rama’s brother bellows back, “Why would you say that?” Too late, Urmilla realizes that bookstores are supposed to be quiet places, where people don’t loudly question other people’s marital habits. When she turns to look back through the gap. Rama and Sita are gone. 

“He wasn’t married to them all at once,” another man’s voice answers, and when Urmilla turns it is Rama who’s speaking, Sita at his side. Her face is flush as a beet, lips trying valiantly to turn down in a frown, but when Urmilla looks at her hand it is tangled up in Rama’s so Sita can’t possibly be that upset. Though there’s still the question of the father. Rama shrugs at Urmilla’s raised eyebrow. “He was just...unlucky in love, for a bit. But he’s been happily married for the last 20 years or so.” 

“Third time’s the charm?” Urmilla never did get an answer about Rama’s previous relationships. 

Rama smiles. “The second, actually. They broke up for about a year, and Father was....not quite at his best, perhaps.” 

Urmilla scoffs, but when presented with an acceptable answer she has no choice but to concede. Sita’s presence prevents her from re-asking some of the more ...necessary but perhaps socially crass questions on Urmilla’s mind. 

“Brother,” Rama’s brother demands, “why on earth are you even entertaining the accusations of this --” Before Urmilla can respond, Rama raises his hand, and immediately, miraculously, his brother falls silent. Point to Rama. 

“For the same reason that you’ve been here hiding away from me since, I assume, the moment you dropped me off at 10 am.” 

“Wait,” Sita interjects, “weren’t we supposed to meet at 12?” Rama blushes as Sita’s smile grows. “Were you really waiting for me all this time?” 

“Yes, yes, he’s very sweet and was worried that he would be caught up in traffic,” Rama’s brother responds, brushing away Sita’s delight in favor of turning to Urmilla and glaring. “But that doesn’t answer my question. I was being a good brother and trying to make sure that your date went as planned.” 

“And that required you poorly impersonate a shop assistant? Think about the amount of work you’ve created for the people who actually work here!” 

“I didn’t want to be kicked out!” 

“No one gets kicked out of a bookstore, you piece of--”

“Urmilla!” 

Now it’s Rama’s brother’s turn to blink as if something has just occurred to him. “Brother,” he says slowly, “didn’t you say she had a sister? Ur-something.” 

The only thing preventing Urmilla from slow-clapping in response is Rama’s gentle, ever-so-slightly put upon smile. “Urmilla,” he says, “might I have the honor of introducing you to my younger brother Lakshman?” 

[ft-dads-au]

Revelations

Home for the Holidays 2019 Prompt: Proof (alcohol) Pairing(s): Lyon & Loke (pre-slash), Lyon & Natsu, Loke & Natsu A collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404 AO3

August 3rd, 2020

Most of the time Lyon Vastia loved his job as a family law attorney, but some days, it really wore him down. Today was one of those. After a long day in court where nothing had gone his way, he was tired and irritable.

On days when he felt like this, he would normally go home and have a few drinks, but he had house guests at the moment. He figured it wasn’t a good idea to subject Gray and Aki to his crappy mood.

So instead, he entered Crime Sorciere, a small corner bar near the Magnolia Courthouse, frequented by most of the lawyers in the community. He sauntered over to his regular stool and took a seat, grateful it seemed to be a slow night. He called Natsu over to order a drink.

“How’re you feeling, man?” Lyon asked, noting Natsu’s taciturn expression, so different from how he’d been the night before.

“I’ll live, what can I get you?” Natsu replied in a business-like tone, and Lyon knew enough to back off. They weren’t exactly friends yet, although he thought last night might have changed that a little.

“Can you make me one of those Edolas drinks you’re always going on about?” Lyon saw a little excitement enter the younger man’s eyes as he rushed off to make his order, and it improved his mood a little.

Last night had been rough on all of them, for the first time they’d all understood that there was more going on with Natsu than what they’d initially thought. He always acted so cheerfully that they’d never thought to ask what his real situation was. There were no words Lyon could muster to express how deeply sorry he felt for Natsu’s loss, and Natsu clearly wanted to put the whole incident behind him. About the only good thing to come of it was that Gray would hopefully lay off him a little.

Natsu had just returned with his drink when Lyon heard a sigh to his right. A body plopped down on the stool next to his, and he turned to see Loke Regulus looking disheveled, which was definitely a far cry from his usual meticulous appearance. His eyes were red-rimmed behind the tinted glasses he always wore, and he looked like he might still be dressed in the clothes from the previous night.

Loke grabbed the drink before Lyon could object and downed it in one gulp.

“Hey!” Natsu protested, “That was for Lyon!”

“Just make him another one, and one for me. Put it on my tab.” Loke was positively glaring at Natsu, and both he and Lyon looked at each other in confusion as Loke slapped his credit card on the bar. “And keep them coming.”

Natsu grumbled something under his breath but left to prepare the drinks.

“What died and crawled up your ass?” Lyon had no particular interest in Loke or his life, but he’d been spending enough time with the guys from the Dad’s Club to feel like he kind of belonged and should make some sort of effort.

Lyon had never been one to have a lot of friends, he kept his eyes on his goals and let nothing get in his way. He’d hit it off with Gray in college, and there were Yuka and Toby, but that was about it. Although he had to admit, he kind of enjoyed the camaraderie that was starting to develop with these guys.

He knew Loke from having seen him around the courthouse and at the bar for the last couple of years, but until recently, they’d never had much cause to interact. Loke was a notorious flirt, hitting on anything with legs, and that had always irritated Lyon.

“That fucker, he ruined everything!”

“Who?” Lyon blinked at Loke, having no idea what the hell he was going on about.

“Natsu! All his fucking talk last night, it messed me up.”

Natsu had returned, and by the look on his face, he’d caught the tail end of their conversation. He set the drinks down in front of them and walked away.

“Natsu!” Loke called out, but the bartender didn’t stop. Loke slammed his fist on the bar, “Damn it!”

“What the hell, Loke,” Lyon scolded, remembering how upset Natsu had been the night before, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Lucy kicked me out last night,” Loke mumbled, once again downing the drink in one gulp. “Bastard can sure make drinks,” he whistled appreciatively, “Guess he had to be good at something.”

Lyon decided to ignore the jab at Natsu in favor of trying to get more information out of the defense lawyer. “Alright, I’ll bite. Why did she kick you out?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You’re so full of shit. If you didn’t want to talk about it, why say anything in the first place?”

Loke remained silent, sliding his finger along the rim of the glass, so Lyon being the jaded divorce lawyer he was, made an educated guess.

“Let me guess, she found out you cheated on her?

“I have never cheated on her!”

“Don’t act so outraged, I’ve seen you in here all the time, women hanging all over you. A lot of my clients would consider that cheating. Your choice of clients leaves a lot to be desired as well.”

“Don’t be such a self-righteous asshole. Just because I flirt with people doesn’t mean I step out. And by the way, everyone deserves a fair trial, Lyon, not just the people you think are innocent. You can say whatever you want about me, but at the end of the day, you and I aren’t that different. We’re both in this to help others.”

Lyon thought about that for a moment and had to admit there might be some truth to Loke’s words.

Loke turned to look at Lyon, his eyes uncertain, and from years of experience as a divorce lawyer, he recognized the pain hidden in their depths, and he was shocked by the honesty he hadn’t been expecting.

“It was nothing like that. That whole she was my home thing Natsu was going on about last night, it tore me up, okay.” Loke explained, “There was a time when that was true for Lucy and me, but it hasn’t been like that, not for a long time. At least not for me. I’ve tried, we did the therapy, and all sorts of other crazy stuff, even joining the Dad’s Club. But nothing’s changed. I — I’ve just been going through the motions for the girls. When I told Lucy all that, she went into a screaming fit and kicked me out.”

Lyon didn’t know how to respond to that, but it was the most personal thing Loke had ever shared with him, and he was sure his expression reflected his astonishment.

“What?!”

“I’m just surprised, I never thought you cared about anyone but yourself.”

“Fuck you! You don’t know the first thing about me.”

Lyon found that incredibly amusing, “That’s not entirely true.”

Loke raised an eyebrow, not knowing what to make of that response but soon returned to drinking as quickly as possible.

“I’ve checked in to the hotel across from the courthouse, for now. I guess I’ll have to go home and get some of my stuff.”

Lyon grunted in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything in response. He was all too familiar with this stage, the slow realization at the separation, and the impending thoughts about divorce. He already knew what was coming next, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“Hey, you’re a divorce lawyer, aren’t you? Would you be willing to take my case?”

“No, but I’d be happy to recommend you to a good one.”

“Why the hell not? You’re one of the best ones out there.”

“I don’t represent friends on divorces, only stuff like adoption or surrogacy. You know the types of things we learn about people in this profession, it can destroy even the closest friendships. And before you say anything, Gray is a special case.”

“Why? Cause you’re banging him?”

Lyon erupted into fits of laughter, remembering the conversation he’d had with Gray’s brother some months earlier, “Why does everyone think I have something going with Gray, do I give off a gay vibe or something?”

“More of an asshole vibe,” Loke muttered under his breath.

“Nice to know I’m on brand,” Lyon chuckled, looking down to notice two more drinks had been delivered even though Natsu was all the way at the other end of the bar.

“You’re just very protective of him, it’s rather unlike what I know of you,” Loke pointed out with a shrug.

“Gray’s been through a lot, he deserves better, and that’s all I’m going to say about it,” Lyon cautioned, “If you ever have any other family-related legal issue, I’m your guy. But I can’t help you with this.”

“So we’re friends now?” Loke grabbed his drink and sipped it thoughtfully, “Never thought I’d see the day.”

And with something akin to surprise, Lyon realized he didn’t actually mind the idea. Loke was a pain in the ass, but he also wasn’t as bad as Lyon had initially thought.

“Friends,” Lyon agreed, taking a sip from his drink and smiling in appreciation at the flavor. Natsu did, indeed, make good drinks.

He noticed Loke glancing over at where Natsu was standing, his expression conflicted. A few moments later, he got up and walked over to the bartender. They spoke for a few minutes before shaking hands, with Loke reaching over the bar to ruffle Natsu’s hair roughly, laughing as Natsu scrunched his face in outrage.

Lyon snickered into his drink, relieved to see Loke acting more like his usual self but also feeling a bit glum. Even after years of seeing it happen on a regular basis, it still depressed him to see marriages fall apart. Especially when there were kids involved.

He thought of all the lawyers he went up against on a regular basis and grabbing one of his business cards he wrote down two things on the back, the name of a lawyer he thought would be a good match for Loke and on a whim his own phone number.

A/N: We are working on a separate one-shot titled She Was My Home which will deal with the events Loke and Lyon are referring to. Stay tuned....

[messagefromtheveins]

Fancy Idiot

A/N: Based on this ask by an incredible anon yesterday: “omg imagine shawn’s gf being in college and taking out loans and being kinda broke but she feels weird talking about financial trouble with shawn cause he’s rich so he didn’t know she was struggling until her beat up old car broke down and he put 2 and 2 together and gave her his jeep cause she refused to let him buy her a car and he got himself a tesla and was like babe i already bought myself a new car and i have no need for 2 just take it and she gets all emotional and it’s fluffy”

Words: 1362

Pairing: Shawn/reader

You cursed under your breath as your car gave some weak sounds from the front before it slowed down, not giving the tiniest reaction to your foot pressing down on the accelerator. "No, come on, baby. Just bring me home," you begged, but it was no use. So you steered off to the side of the road where you came to a slow but eventual stop. You had feared this- since a few days your car had been acting up and you knew that you would have to expect it considering how old it was. But deep down you had still been hoping that it was just because of the cold that makes everything a bit harder for your old vehicle and that it would magically get better again. "Fuck," you sighed and leaned your head back against the seat for a few seconds before you reached for your phone and dialed Shawn's number.

You knew he was rehearsing for his upcoming tour, but you hoped that he could take a break for a few minutes and come pick you up. But the longer you listened to the dial tone the more your hopes died down until you eventually went to voicemail.

You couldn't afford a tow truck right now. Not even a cab to bring you home, much less a freaking new car. So, when Shawn still hadn't called back after 5 minutes you released a defeated sigh, collecting everything important and making sure that the beanie was securely on your head and the scarf covered your entire neck and half of your face before you got out of the car into the biting cold.

–—–—–—–—–—–

Immediate worry washed over him when he parked his car in his spot and didn't find yours right beside it, knowing that you should be home since at least two hours. He had seen that he had a missed call from you when he had left rehearsals, but you hadn't picked up.

His worry turned into confusion when he stepped into the condo and was met by quiet music playing, though he was relieved that you were home. Kicking his boots off, he carelessly tossed his coat aside before he followed the sound until he found you in the bathroom, the sweet smell of lavender lingering in the air as you laid in the bathtub. "Hey, baby," he smiled and stepped closer, leaning over you and grasping your chin in one hand while he stole a soft kiss from your lips.

He didn't fail to notice that the tip of your nose was ice cold against his cheek, his finger lightly touching it and drawing a giggle from you. "What are you doing?" you laughed and turned your head away.

"Why are you so cold?" he asked, his hand dipping into the water to find it perfectly warm.

The worry came back with full force as you hesitated and bit your bottom lip. "My car broke down on the way so I had to walk home," you explained while he crouched down in front of the tub, an arm bracing on the side of it.

"Is that why you called?" he murmured, receiving a nod from you. "Fuck, I'm sorry, honey. I didn't see it until I left," he apologized and ran a hand through his hair.

"Tell me about rehearsals," you changed the topic, his heart growing heavier. He wanted to talk to you about all the questions that were lingering in his mind right now, how you would be able to get to college every morning now and if you would try to get your car repaired- though he was fairly certain that it wouldn't be worth it considering how old and beat down it was.

Instead he sat down on the floor and started telling you about his day, knowing that you would never accept it if he offered to help you out financially, much less let him buy you a brand new car. He knew that you wanted to be independent and he fully encouraged it, but sometimes he wished you would be less stubborn about it. He barely listened to himself as a plan already formed in his head.

–—–—–—–—–���–

"Careful," he mumbled, his hands covering your eyes as he slowly guided you somewhere unknown. "Okay, stop right here," he said, though didn't remove his hands as the two of you came to a stop, "ready?"

"I've been ready since the last ten minutes while you made me bump into so many things," you complained and grinned as he sighed behind you.

"I told you I'm sorry! I'm not good with these things."

"Then why did you feel the need to do it anyway? Just tell me what the surprise is," you responded, blinking against the bright lights as he removed his hands. You were in the underground garage of the building, facing the two parking spots that belonged to him. Raising an eyebrow, you turned to look at him to find him widely grinning at you before you faced the cars again. "I don't know what you want me to say?" you asked, "congrats that some fancy idiot parked their Tesla in your spot?"

He had an unamused look in his eyes as he reached into the pocket of his jacket, holding a small object that disappeared in his big hand. Your head twisted to the Tesla as it unlocked, your eyes widening and staring at the car for a moment before you turned to him again.

"What did you do?" you gasped.

He chuckled, deeply amused by your shocked reaction. "I thought it's time for a change. Let people know that I'm a fancy idiot," he explained and laughed as you raised an eyebrow at him. He watched as you approached the car, your fingers lightly tracing along the side of it while you stepped over to the driver's side and peeked inside. Patiently waiting until you turned back to him, he held his hand up where the keys of his Jeep were dangling from one finger. "It's yours," he said before you could say anything.

"Don't be stupid. You know that you promised Aaliyah the Jeep," you reminded him and walked over to him again.

He shrugged. "I talked to her and we came to the decision that she's nowhere near getting her license any time soon. It would be a shame if the Jeep was just standing here and no one uses it, right?" he grinned, seeing the pure disbelief written in your eyes as you stopped right in front of him.

Your arms circled around his middle while you shook your head at him. "You are crazy."

"Only crazy for my girl," he chuckled and cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks.

"I'll pay you-"

"You'll pay me absolutely nothing," he interrupted you, his voice firm and leaving no room for arguments, "the Jeep is paid for. The only thing you're paying for is gas."

He had to stop himself from grinning when he noticed how you slowly relaxed under his touch, finally accepting his offer. "Take me on a ride?" you asked and nodded over to his brand new car.

He didn't respond immediately, still looking down on you with his beautiful dark eyes before he lightly traced his thumb over your bottom lip in a way that had goosebumps breaking out all over your body. "Will you take me on a ride later?" he smirked and raised a suggestive eyebrow.

He knew that the grin that spread over your lips could mean nothing good. Pushing yourself up on your tip toes, you felt his hands reach down to grasp your waist instead as your breath tickled on his ear. He tugged you closer as your teeth gently nibbled on his earlobe, drawing a quiet gasp from him. "You're really an idiot if you think that I won't ride my man into oblivion after he gave me his Jeep," you breathed, biting your lip to hold back the laugh as one of his hands reached down to cup your ass, giving it a rough squeeze.

"Shit," he mumbled, "get in the car."

[izaswritings]

Title: it’s just a mild inconvenience

Synopsis: Pro Tip— When you die saving the life of your worst enemy, make absolutely sure there’s no chance of survival. Otherwise, things get awkward. Like really, really awkward.

Personally, Varian would take the death and dying. At least then he doesn’t have to deal with all this “caring” nonsense.

Notes: The response to this story makes me so happy to see!! Thank you so much for all your support! I'm overjoyed to know you guys are excited for this au!! It's going to be a fun ride, ahaha 💖

Once again, many thanks to the amazing @jessucakes for brainstorming this monster of an au with me! It’s getting me through college, ahaha 😂

Warnings for: cursing/swearing (Varian, tsk tsk, watch your language), references to past character death (including references to past impalement), and... that's all, really. Huh. As always though, if there is something you feel I missed, just let me know and I’ll add it on here!

-

AO3 Link is here!

Chapter One is here!

-

chapter two— it’s not kindness, it’s ______

-

Varian doesn’t get very far, regrettably.

It’s Eugene who catches him, mostly because he’s taller and has longer legs and, unlike Varian, is neither in shock nor drugged, and so clearly has the advantage. This is the only reason he wins. The only reason.

“Are you a child or some weird shapeshifting eel creature,” Eugene wheezes, trying desperately to keep a hold on him. He’d caught up to Varian no problem, but Varian takes a demented sort of glee in the knowledge that catching him sure wasn’t easy. Though the commentary is a bit insulting, so just for that, Varian elbows Eugene in the chin with gusto. He doesn’t get free but he does get petty revenge, and really, isn’t that all that matters?

Eugene hauls him back into the infirmary room regardless of Varian’s many efforts. Despite the quick scuffle and enthusiastic measures to escape, Eugene has somehow managed to find a way to hold Varian in such a way that he’s effectively useless. He’s hanging half-way upside down and trapped between Eugene’s side and his arm. It’s ridiculous, uncomfortable, and probably mortifying for the both of them, but Varian can’t kick or punch Eugene at all now, and he suspects darkly that this was the intent.

He scowls at the ground, the blood rushing to his head, and gives another go at squirming out of the hold. Nothing. Varian’s not yet at the point where he considers biting Eugene to be the best course of action, but— well. He’s getting pretty damn close.

“Put me down!”

“Sure, kid,” Eugene says, and the world goes topsy-turvy and then suddenly and painfully soft. Eugene has—he’s dumped Varian face-first on the bed, that jerk! Mattresses hurt!

Varian pushes himself upright and turns to glare at him, rubbing at his nose. Rapunzel is still here—and, damn it, still smiling, hands twisted in a knot before her chest and face cast with a shade of uncertainty, but all in all still disgustingly positive.

Varian can’t look her in the eyes—he’d died, and he’d died saving... why the hell had he—so he glares at Eugene instead, because Eugene is easy, and still despised, and also in general kind of an ass, so there’s no harm in hating him. He jabs one finger at the older man’s face and says, “Let me go. Right now.”

“We can’t do that, Varian,” Rapunzel says, and wow, that’s pretty rude, can’t she see Varian is ignoring her with every fiber of his being? He doesn’t want to look at her, and then she goes and starts talking anyway. “We still don’t know if you’re entirely okay! You were in a coma for three days, and before that, you had just di—”

She stops, voice withering, and all of sudden he can’t look at her for an entirely different reason. His stomach twists into knots, his breaths shortening, chest tight with an echo of searing pain.

“Doctor says bed rest,” Eugene announces in a rush, but he says it so loudly and with such desperate gusto that it sounds more like “DOCTORSAYSBEDREST” and just about sends Varian falling from the bed out of sheer fright. “So, uh, yeah, no can do, that lady scares the shit outta me and I’m not going to be risking her wrath anytime soon, so just—just—” Eugene clears his throat, and for a moment his eyes shift to Rapunzel, something wordless passing between them.

Varian waits, glaring up at them. “Just what?”

“Do… that…?” Eugene offers, and beside him, Varian can hear Rapunzel sigh.

There is a long and awkward pause. Eugene clenches his jaw and then sighs, the tension finally falling from his shoulders. He lifts one hand and rubs it down his face.

“Look, kid… Varian,” he says finally, voice slow and measured. “I know this is… weird. And yeah, I’ll be straight with you, this is goddamn strange. You’re not the only one wanting to jump out a window, though as per usual you’re the only one bonkers enough to actually try and do so—”

“Eugene,” Rapunzel says.

“Right.” He clears his throat. “I get it, okay? You don’t like us, that’s fine. And hey, you’re… actually pretty unlikeable yourself, to be fair—”

“Eugene.”

“BUT,” Eugene says loudly, waving his hand down at Rapunzel. “We don’t, y’know, actually hate you. Or want you to die. Or suffer. Or… any of that awful stuff. Which might be a really weird concept to you, kid, except—” And here Eugene pauses, and Varian can feel his heart sink, “Maybe you do know what I mean, don’t you?”

For a moment Varian cannot respond, any response drowned out under what has been said and what has been implied. You didn’t want her to die. Or suffer.

You don’t actually hate us.

The memory of that spike through his chest is clear, sharp and sudden, and for a second Varian cannot breathe under the weight of it, can taste phantom blood in his throat and almost see that dark earth behind his eyelids. And then the words register, and his anger rises up, so wonderfully familiar he could cry.

“Oh?” Varian says, and he feels cold, now, at last in control of himself. This anger is welcome, so terribly welcome. It drowns out the memory of that dark world, that echo of pleading still in his ears, the questions twisting around his heart and soul. Why did I—

“What makes you think that?” Varian says, and he smiles. The tide has shifted, and it has shifted in his favor. At last he knows what to say.  “What, did you just forget the past, oh, year of me trying my best to brutally murder you all? Do you think one good deed will change that? You think this changes anything?”

Eugene falters, and Varian’s smile grows. The relief he feels at this is startling. Nothing has changed, not really. This is merely a bump in the road, an obstacle of little importance. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

“Doesn’t it?”

Rapunzel’s voice is soft. Quiet, yet firm, and at the sound of it, Varian falters. He forgets himself, he looks at her, and he sees her red-rimmed eyes and her hands clasped before her, back straight and head tilted. The memory arises without warning, overlaying on the present, the image of her silhouette against the dark sky, the clearest memory besides the pain—

Sour bile rises in his throat, and Varian tears his eyes away.

“It does matter,” Rapunzel says, a note of finality in this statement. “It matters to me, Varian, even if it doesn’t to you.”

He sneers at the bed covers. “Trying to redeem a villain, Princess?”

“I’m trying to repay a kindness.”

Something in him withers at that, at that wording, at that quiet reproach in her voice. Varian shivers, grasping for that former confidence, but it had faltered at her voice and now has slipped fully from his grasp.

He ignores it, all of it, because what else is he supposed to do, and how is he supposed to respond to that? Damn them, this is exactly what he didn’t want to happen!

Rapunzel wants a happily ever after; screw that, Varian thinks. She wants him to play along, to pretend everything’s okay—well it’s not, and he refuses, and she’s just going to have to live with it.

He’s not sure what they’re expecting—Tears? Heartfelt apologies? Declaration of feelings? —but they aren’t fucking getting it, oh no, not from him. Instead Varian lifts his hand and jabs a finger at her, now, a sharp point of accusation that breaks her calm and makes her blink back. The tension breaks with her stare. All at once they are again on even ground and oh, god, thank god.

“This is shitty repayment!” Varian announces loudly, something desperate in the words, and takes delightful pleasure in how her nose scrunches at the swear. Ha-ha. “Repayment is money! Me being left alone! Revenge or something! This?” He waves a hand at the room, confidence growing, the desperate edge giving way to offense. “This is just kidnapping! What the hell!”

“To be fair,” Eugene says, “The alternative was, y’know, death, so I’m not entirely sure why you’re complaining—”

Varian swings that finger onto him, nearly jabbing Eugene in the eye. “Don’t you start, Fitzherbert!”

Eugene blinks, then snorts through his nose, crossing his arms. “Ooh, fancy, last-name basis now. How long did it take you to learn how to pronounce that correctly?”

Varian splutters. “That is not the point! The point is—”

“Also, considering your usual, y’know, plots, isn’t kidnapping actually appropriately ironic? Food for thought!”

“It’s still kidnapping!” Varian snaps, and jumps up off the bed onto his feet so that he can glare at them properly. It doesn’t help. They still tower over him. “It’s only okay when I do it!”

“Okay, now that’s just plain—”

“Guys, please,” Rapunzel starts, and Eugene turns to argue with her, and Varian takes delightful pleasure in yelling at them both. For a little while the world is back to as it should be—blessedly antagonistic and chaotic in equal measure, and the memory of his death and what it meant, is, if only for a little while, thankfully far away.

-

They’re about midway in a shouting match when the doctor finally hears them. She doesn’t appreciate the noise, if her exasperated threats are any indication. She sweeps in with a pile of fabric and glass in her arms and just about drops it all when she sees them, dark skin going even darker with anger and eyes going wide when she takes in the events.

“Are you lot yelling at my patient!?” she says, with a voice full of ominous thunder, and everything after that is a whirlwind. It is, honestly, a tiny bit scary: the doctor sweeps in and wrestles Varian back under the covers and the Princess and Eugene out the door in about ten seconds flat. Between one blink and the next—gone. One minute Varian’s shouting at the top of his lungs, the next he’s flat on his back and the room is near devoid of people.

Seriously, what?

Well, Varian thinks. It could probably be worse. At least he doesn’t have to listen to Rapunzel’s prattle anymore, or Eugene—thank god, really, because his neck is starting to hurt from staring up and shouting at them for so long. Seriously, why are they so tall? That kind of height should be illegal, or something. It completely throws a wrench into proper revenge ranting.

The doctor, unlike Eugene and Rapunzel, is blessedly silent in comparison. She barely even looks at him—not directly, anyway, though she eyes him every once in a while, pinning him with a short stare and then looking away. She does that… a lot, actually. It’s kind of freaking him out a bit.

Okay, maybe its freaking Varian out a lot. It’s just… little things. She keeps eyeing him like she’s faced with a puzzle she doesn’t get, which. Okay, granted, could be explained by him dying and then coming back (thanks for fucking nothing, Rapunzel, you useless princess, you’ve brought him back and made him a circus sideshow freak in the process). But then.

In the weirdest move doctor lady has pulled yet, she puts an old (and way oversized, which means it’s Eugene’s, and at some point Varian is going to have to burn it on principle) shirt on the dresser before leaving. Which, whatever, except as she does it, she pins him with another unreadable stare and gives a really cryptic statement of “You’ll be wanting this dearly, child, the collar will help hide your neck and arms.” And then she just… leaves without a backward glance. Boom. End of conversation.

Like. The hell, lady?

Still, weird-ass doctors aside, Varian is finally—finally! —on his own. He waits a good few seconds, listening intently, and the moment he is certain that no one else is coming back, he slips out of bed without any hesitation. He pads his way silently across the room, and then he eases open the door with a careful creak, ready to duck out. He just needs to see where the guards are at, and then—

Varian stops. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then draws away, shutting the door very softly. He stares at his hand for a long moment. He pursues his lips. He squints at the air.

“No,” he decides, and opens the door again. The same image. He closes it. Opens it. Closes it. Absolutely no change. The scientific method has failed him.

Varian throws open the door completely, letting it bang against the wall, arms outstretched, ears straining. Nothing. Empty hallway, silent house, not a single goddamn guard in sight.

He stares at the empty hallway for a long moment. “What the fuck,” Varian whispers, and grabs the door handle, slamming it shut. He waits. No footsteps, no yelling… “Whaaaaaat the ever-loving—”

Okay. So. Apparently the whole… dying thing must have really addled some brains here, because Varian is starting to think they haven’t even posted a damn guard. Which is—it can’t be. He’s almost offended. Why on earth would someone forget that? He could just—walk out! Right now! They’d never even know!

Do they probably think he’s in too much shock to escape or something? Or too hurt, and well, he is probably a little drugged— no, still no excuse. That’s it. Varian is offended. He’s spent a whole year building up his reputation as a someone to take seriously, and apparently one tiny, practically inconsequential mishap has sent it all spiraling down the drain.

It’s goddamn typical, is what is it. It’s also terribly insulting.

Just for that, Varian jumps out the window. No guards outside his door? Screw them; Varian’s sneaking out properly regardless, and he’s jumping out as many windows as he can along the way. They must have at least guarded the perimeter. He’ll jump out, scare of few metal-heads, maybe trip a few guys. That’ll teach them to not post a guard at the door, the inconsiderate jerks.

Still, the whole thing leaves him jittery and uncertain. It’s not until Varian’s jumped out, oversized shirt pulled over his head, bereft of any of his possessions, that he realizes he— really didn’t think this through. No Rudiger, no alchemy, none of his things…

But apparently, that doesn’t matter. Because even outside, there are still no guards, either. Not even a stranger. Varian looks around the side of the infirmary house with a growing sense of unease. No one. Nothing. They’d just— left him. Alone. Completely alone. What the hell is going on? Are they stupid? Did someone’s head get knocked the wrong way when he wasn’t looking?

His mind, without warning, strays back to Rapunzel. Maybe she just trusted me not to leave.

Which is—weird. So weird. What is Varian even supposed to think about that?

He lingers at the bottom of the window, struck with sudden uncertainty, a strange anxiety. No guards at the door, or the windows, when they should know—

But hell, what’s he supposed to do, climb back up? No, no way. Varian is being ridiculous. Why is he even hesitating? Who cares if they decided to trust him? Who cares if he breaks that trust? He’s not their friend, and nothing has changed, and Rapunzel is just going to have to get that through her remarkably thick skull.

Varian hisses through his teeth and marches away. He’s not looking back at the window. He’s NOT looking back at the window. Nope, nope, nope.

He looks back at the window.

…Not even a single guard. Not around the house, or side-streets, or… anything. Just a house, the doctor, and him.

“What the fuck,” Varian says. No answer. “Screw you, Raps.” Still no answer. Someone’s got to be hiding behind a corner somewhere, he refuses to believe they’ve left him unsupervised. They just… no, no. Guard around the corner. There has to be. “I’m leaving, you can’t stop me, ha-ha!”

Nothing.

Varian clenches his jaw and turns his back deliberately, inwardly furious with himself. Okay, no guard, so— Ugh. What now?

He’s acting so stupid. It’s the painkillers; it’s gotta be. He’s just... moody, is all. Teenagers are supposed to be moody, right? It’s a puberty thing! He’ll wake up tomorrow morning faaaaaar away from here, and everything will be as it should.

The more he thinks about it, the more sense it makes. Dying, puberty, drugs— terrible mix. Varian’s a scientist, he should know. Everything’s absolutely a-okay, it’s just his dumb teen mind is being… dumb, again. Yeah. Yeah, that’s it!

Varian lifts his head, cheered by this idea. There’s a perfectly logical explanation for all of this, he’s just got to be in a better frame of mind to see it. All the more reason to leave!

The town is small and circular, and in the distance, growing closer, he can see a ring of trees. Varian fast-walks down the roads, eying every alleyway suspiciously. He’s so close to the edge now, and there’s not even a town border wall or anything. The moment he gets into the woods, he’s home free.

He’s so close he can almost taste it. Spirits bolstered, Varian speeds up, walking fast, and blindly turns a corner just in time to hear, “…doing all right?”

Varian halts in his tracks, mind going blank. No. There’s no way. Not even his luck can be that bad—

Doctor lady’s raspy voice says, “Princess, I’ve told you three times, he’s perfectly fine,” and promptly shatters all of Varian’s hopes and dreams into dust.

Well, Varian thinks. So it is them. Shit.

“Oh,” Rapunzel says— Rapunzel! Out here! Practically five feet away! Why!? — “I know, I’m sorry, I just… those bandages, I just thought…”

Varian flings himself against a nearby wall, pressing a palm against his mouth to quiet himself. He is so close. He can see the edge of the forest just a few blocks away, but if he moves they’ll hear him and—damn it, damn it, damn it!

“As I said, your tear healed him. But…”

“But? What does that mean? There’s shouldn’t be a but!”

Doctor lady sighs loudly. “But,” she says, “the rocks created… some weird complications. The healing perhaps wasn’t as—thorough as you are used to. It’s nothing bad, but the bandages were necessary.”

Varian freezes, panic stalled and mind caught on the conversation. That was… even more cryptic than the shirt comment. He picks at the collar of his borrowed top, suddenly hyper-aware of the bandages wrapped around his neck and the whole length of his torso. He feels fine. He feels pretty great, actually, so—why is he covered in bandages?

“I—not as thorough? What do you mean? Is, is there still danger?”

“It is nothing you need to worry about.” Footsteps echo in his ears, and Varian jumps, drawing back—but they are moving away, not towards him. He can hear them only distantly now, the doctor lady saying, “Worry not; I know what I’m doing, even with all this magical involvement…”

Their voices fade. Varian waits, and when he peeks out from behind the wall, there is no one outside but him.

He rubs absently at his chest, feeling the bump of the bandages through the borrowed shirt. Complications? What in the world does that mean?

His head hurts. The night air is cold, and the conversation has left him rattled. He’s too tired to think about this right now, he can barely think straight as it is. Varian scrunches his hair in his hand and presses his palms against his eyes, bending at the knees, a strangled cry of frustration at his throat.

He bites it back just barely, rocking on his heels and then standing so fast it makes his muddled mind spin like a child’s toy. Varian steadies himself against the wall and sucks in a deep breath.

…It doesn’t matter, Varian decides finally. It’s not important. Why, oh why does he keep getting stuck on these things? He’s free, he’s out! The painkillers and trauma can take a goddamn hike. Varian is getting out of here, and in the morning, everything will be just fine and it’ll be like nothing happened.

Take that, Rapunzel. This whole thing has been way more trouble than it’s worth. See if he ever saves her again! Hah!

Varian casts one last look at the infirmary room and that empty window, then turns away. Good-bye, silly princess; good-bye, unguarded window; good-bye, creepy cryptic doctor lady and unfamiliar town! Varian is out and he’s unsupervised, and that’s always meant good things for him and terrible things for everyone else. Freedom at last!

He doesn’t quite skip from the village, but it’s a near thing. And really, why shouldn’t he? He’s free and he’s alive, awkward conversations avoided successfully. He certainly won’t be seeing any of them anytime soon, that’s for sure, not if Varian has any say in the matter.

Varian is heading home. The ordeal is finally over.

-

The ordeal is not over.

The ordeal, Varian is finding, is not even close to being over. The ordeal has gained a consciousness and a downright awful sense of humor and is currently sitting up in the trees and cackling like a deranged manic child at his misfortune.

“Ooooooh, sure,” Varian mumbles, kicking a spare stone across the path. It’s been hours since he left the village behind, and the moon is high in the sky. “Eugene gets to die and come back, and he gets a castle, he gets a celebration…”

Varian is lost.

“He gets a warm bed and food… ugh, food… hot drinks… cocoa…. Warm blankets...”

Varian is lost in a dark forest in the middle of autumn, with no food, no jacket, and no idea of where he’s going.

In hindsight, leaving the infirmary room was—probably a bad idea. At least it was warm there.

“But me? Ohhhhh nooooo, I die, and I get manhandled, weird shows of dumb trust, creepy doctor ladies and Eugene’s old shirt… do I get cocoa? Do I get a castle?”

High above him, the moon sits heavy and bright in the sky, shining through the towering pines. The ground is obscured to his eyes, shadows long and all-consuming. Varian has no idea where he is or where he’s going. He isn’t even following a path.

“Oh no, no cocoa for me! No castle! Me, I get annoying princesses, I get dumb shadowy paths in the middle of freaking nowhere, I get lost—”

His foot catches on a root, and Varian goes plummeting head over heels. He hits his side and then pitches down a hill, because of course he does, and then he keeps on tumbling down that, because why not, and then at last he manages to roll up on his feet just in time face-plant an icy stream, because clearly all that other stuff was letting him off way too lightly.

Thanks, Universe.

Varian comes up spitting water, coughing hard, rubbing at his new bruises and stumbling back up on his feet. “This is—this is BLATANT FAVORITISM,” he bellows at the sky, breathless with exhaustion, “and you should be ashamed!”

No answer. Varian stomps his foot, slips on some algae, and falls backward into the stream with a loud splash and high-pitched scream.

The water is even colder the second time around. Of-fucking-course it is.

Varian sits there in the stream, staring up contemplatively at the night sky, and finally closes his eyes with a whine. He slams back his head into the water, icy droplets splashing his face, the stream brushing through his hair. It is so cold.

Seriously, just—why him? Why is it always him?

He sits there until the cold of the stream starts making him shiver, and slowly climbs up to his feet, wisely keeping his mouth shut this time around. Okay. Stay calm, Varian. Take stock of the situation. Surely there’s something good in all this!

He’s wet, cold, lost… dirty and muddy… he’s pretty sure the fall back there bruised his arm, and that hurt, damn it… he’s standing in a stream…

Tired though he is, this thought makes his mind perk up. Stream, water, running water—people. People, houses, they tend to cluster around water, which means—

Ha-ha, makeshift path. No more stumbling blinding around the woods for him!

“There’s a bright side to everything,” Varian mumbles, except saying it aloud makes him think of Rapunzel, and that’s… hmmm. No no, less positive, he’s got to think less like her— “Except it’s also cold, and rocky, and I fell in it…”

There, Varian thinks, marching up the streamside. Now he feels much better.

He follows the path of the stream for all the rest of night. It leads him up a few hills, and gets him turned around once it splits at a crossing, but at long last—shelter.

It’s not much, but it is better than the woods, at least. A rugged and abandoned house—a hunter’s cabin—resting high and by the streamside. The windows are broken and there’s no door, but it’s shelter, and Varian stumbles through the threshold feeling so relieved he almost cries.

No cocoa—damn it—but there is a bed, and drawers, and mirror… A wardrobe, tools, even some dried meats and a tiny jar of honey. Food, at last, and Varian settles on the floor with his findings, feeling immeasurably pleased with this success.

“Take that, Princess,” he mutters, chewing furiously at the jerky. It tastes stale and dry in his mouth, and he makes a face as he gnaws at it. Ugh, gross, dust flavor. “I’m doing just fine. Trying to repay a kindness, blah blah blah, it’s kidnapping and we both know it… hah! Whatever. I’ve got food, honey, clothes; I’m doing fantastic! See if I ever come back now, you bast—”

Varian stops. He takes the jerky out of his mouth, because it is honestly pretty disgusting, and also it gives him something to stare at. He looks at it for a long moment, eyes gazing past and through it into nothing. His mind is going a million miles an hour. His fingers clench and unclench as he thinks.

“Wait,” Varian says.

He is in a cabin in the woods. He has food, shelter, clothes… food, shelter, clothes… Something is missing, something’s not right, and for the life of him Varian just can’t figure out what it is—

At long last, the dots connect. The jerky slips out of Varian’s numb fingers. His eyes have gone wide, his mouth slack.

“Oh,” he says weakly. “Oh, no, no, no, no—”

The cabin in the woods. The empty cabin in the woods. The empty cabin, the quiet nature and the nighttime and Varian—just Varian.

“Rudiger,” Varian breathes, and then, “Oh, shit, Rudiger!”

[syndianites]

The Consequences of Your Actions Chapter 4

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: Vampire AU! Dianite has had many lovers over the years. Some were mere playthings, meant to pass the time. Others were passionate loves, a fire raging until their inevitable demise. Very few were of the immortal variety, most searching for a power grab, others enthralled by his image. One was different, one was special. And he’d be damned if he was going to let him slip away.

Chapter: 4/?

AN: Okay, so we actually get to see Tom be a vampire. I think that was the plan for the last one, but then I went off on a tangent that didn’t come back. Also, Tom finds his way outside. How? He’s a sneaky little child. Also, vampires don’t immediately perish in sunlight. Because plot. I will try my best to keep the idea on track (muted laughter as I wonder if that’ll happen)

Chapter 4

Tom was walking on thin ice. Except this situation held almost the opposite situation. He lurked in the shadowed alleyway of an apartment complex, huddled deep into his sweatshirt. (It was Dia’s really, but he had claimed it now). After a lovely experience in the bedroom, Tom stayed awake long enough to smuggle himself out of the building. How no one saw him was a mystery, but he wasn’t going to waste the gift.

As he exited the alley, he shied away from the sunlight. Though he was still rather cold, he knew that longer exposure to sunlight could kill him. Now he’d be pale for the rest of his life. Fuck. Many early morning risers, those ungodly people who take morning jogs or love to see the sunrise gave him strange looks. Honestly, he felt the same about them. But in all fairness, he was some twenty-something year old, buried in an oversized hoodie in rather nice April weather, (somehow not raining), faded black sweatpants, and cringing at the light. He might as well be some college kid hungover, walking home from a party. Except it was Tuesday, and he was walking in the opposite direction of the nearest college.

Really, he shouldn’t be out here. Not only had Mianite tried (? He technically died when becoming a vampire… he’d ask Dia later) to kill him, the sun could actually kill him, and who knows what else might want him dead. And he was super fucking tired, even after doing nothing for two days. But he needed to see his sister, his only family in the city. Either she was going to kill him if he never checked up on her, (they made an agreement to meet every Monday for lunch, because Mondays are horrible. For obvious reasons, he was absent), or his gaming community would for not uploading anything.

Already, he could feel the pinpricks of sunlight burning through his clothes. With a low hiss, he ducked inside the nearest shop, a simple florist. The first thing that hit him was the overpowering smell of flowers, and then the meek air conditioning. The shop attendant, likely just the cashier with the manager in the back, gave a friendly greeting, but sounded as happy to be awake as he was. The clock above their head read 7:48.

Biting back a groan, faintly longing for the coffee the attendant had with them, he idly checked out the flowers. Moving away from the window, he took the time to cool off, hopefully not too charred already. “Anything I can help you with,” the cashier queried half-heartedly, but with an affable smile. Deciding to humor him, the vampire pointed to a collection of flowers. “What meaning do these have?”

According to the labels, he was looking at the red petals of Amaryllis, Aster, and Carnations. “Ah, the Carnations symbolize pride and admiration, as the red variety. The Amaryllis, the more common kind, symbolizes splendid beauty. And the Aster means, um, patience. And elegance too.” The clerk shrugged, his morning haze numbing his memory. Tom wasn’t really that interested, but they were red, and red was Dianite’s color, so why not. He gave a nod to the man behind the counter, “Maybe I’ll come back and get some.” He waved and walked out the store.

Even back out on the street he could smell the flowers. He wondered if he should have picked some up for Alice, as an apology, but she wasn’t really the flower type. Distractedly, he thought of how his friends would take him hours becoming even shittier. It used to be some butchering of going from 2pm to 4am, or something worse. Now he’d just sleep later, or so it seems to be, with how long Dia likes to sleep. And damn, thinking about sleep really made him want to sleep.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Whipping his head to the side, he came face to face with an older lady. “So sorry to bother you, young man,” she began with a hoarse voice, “But would you mind helping me bring these to my home?” Quickly sweeping his eyes over the area, he noticed he had wandered towards the mall, a quaint little collection of buildings snuggled in the middle of a residential area. It was one of the reasons Alice chose to live in this area, the ‘instant access to cool things’.

While there wasn’t many people nearby, there was enough to notice the exchange, and he knew what they expected. Holding back a sigh, he gave a good-natured response of, “Sure, ma’am,” and proceeded to pull a couple of bags from the lady’s cart. (He hadn’t even noticed that, but they were rather small, only from a small grocery store). Hobbling forward, a hand stuck to her right hip, she led him towards her townhouse.

The going was slow, but it gave him time to admire himself in the reflection of the windows they passed. Or rather, the fucking lack of reflection. It was strange to look at. There were no mirrors or overly reflective surfaces back at Dia’s place, so he never noticed that, while vampires don’t show up in mirrors, their clothes do. So, looking back at him was a hoodie and sweatpants somehow carrying bags. But that wasn’t the worst part. He couldn’t see his hair or face. For all he knew, he looked like absolute shit. Potato-y hair, bloodshot eyes, bags, acne spree, who knows what he fucking looked like. At least whatever it was, the old lady wasn’t scared.

He had to cheat a stop with his increased speed (that still gave him trouble), as the lady stopped suddenly. She was smiling back at him, apparently not having noticed that he was staring at his unnatural reflection. Hastily, he turned away from the window, throwing her a sheepish smile. “We’re here dear. Oh, do come in, and I can get you some treats as a reward,” she chirped at him, already up the steps and unlocking the door. Gesturing inside, she waddled in.

Hesitantly, he stood in the doorway. “I don’t think I have the time, I’ll just-” Tom was cut off by his ankles being yanked out from under him. Head slamming against the concrete, he only had time to let out a yelp as the sunlight clawed at his exposed face before he was getting dragged inside. Once he was all the way in the door slammed shut with a harsh shudder. The fledgling desperately clawed at the floor around him, leaving faint scratch marks behind.

The thing on his ankles slid up his legs, a vice like grip holding on to him. Sparing a glance down all he saw was shadowy tendrils, coming from the floor, from the dark corners of the rooms he passed, even from the feet of the old lady. Belatedly, he realized this was a fucking trap. And something in him responded with a wave of force.

Letting out a deep growl, he sunk his claws into the floorboards, resisting the pull. With a yank, he freed one leg, the tendril tightening on the other. “Don’t struggle fledgling,” the demented old lady hissed, “You’ll love the makeover I’ll give you. It’ll be your little reward for helping me and being such a good boy.” Well fuck that, he snarled viscously kicking at the thing wrapping around his leg until it conceded and let go.

Scrambling to his feet, he made an aborted motion towards the front door. The entire exit was swamped in inky blackness. “Now, now, bad boys don’t get rewards dearie.” The creature let out a howl as Tom charged her, ripping through her in an attempt to make for the kitchen window. Bashing the glass in, he dove through the opening, an enraged shriek following his exit. But fuck her if he was looking back now.

Now crammed in the backway between two sets of townhouses, he made a mad dash for the sunlight road on the other side. He picked up his pace as he heard some sort of airy sound coming from behind him, the pitch of a slow leak in a tire. He didn’t want to know what the fuck it was, why it was, or how close it was. Cringing only a little, he barreled into the bright rays, taking off down the sidewalk at a commendable pace, for a human.

He didn’t stop until he was safely in the middle of a sunny park. Settling in the shade of some well-placed trees, he surveyed his surroundings. “Shitty McFuck,” he groaned, letting his head fall back onto the bark. It throbbed without mercy, the brightness around him not helping. He vaguely knew where he was, but the longer he looked at it, the more it felt… off. Where normally, if this was Alice’s neighborhood, there would be people out, maybe some kids skipping school in the park, adults dragging themselves to work, or even some gaddamn squirrels running amok, there was almost nothing. Beyond that one group of joggers, (insane people, who knows what’s wrong with the,), no one was out.

Curling in on himself, he tried to hype himself back up. He’d get to Alice, his boss ass bitch of a sister. His sister, living in this neighborhood. That was acting sketchy, with crazy old ladies with demon powers. Shit, shit, shit. Groaning, he squeezed his eyes shut. He was super fucking tired, sore, his head hurt like shit, and Alice could be in danger.

An ache had begun to settle in the back of his throat. Irritably opening his eyes, he glanced back over at the moving group of humans. More than ever before, he felt the urge to attack them. Now, it wasn’t just general distaste for their lifestyle. There was a crushing need to get something from them. Burying himself back into his hoodie, he groaned miserably. He was fucking thirsty. (If only there were better people around than the stupid fucking health nuts).

(AN: I think that might’ve stayed on plot… maybe. It feels like I left something out, buuut I kinda need to take a shower and go to bed. Ill figure it out as I lay there, and just face palm. Also, Tom doesn’t know how to use vampy powers yet. So he just uses brute force like always)

[clownn-townn]

Alright, so one of my friends had posted on facebook asking for people’s paranormal experiences and I thought, hey, maybe I should share mine on Tumblr and do something similar. So, here are mine. Feel free to reblog with your paranormal experiences! I’d love to read them. I’ll be keeping up with the notes.

Alright, so I’m going to start with the most recent one and go in no chronological order, just this one happened in my freshman year of college and the rest happened in high school. 

Freshman year of college. I'd already had plenty of experience with the paranormal. Done my own ghost hunts, used oujia boards on a regular basis, lived in haunted houses, avid fan of Ghost Adventures and Ghost Hunters, nothing surprised me. Next to our tiny college town is an even tinier town called Gurdon where there's a tiny deserted cemetary next to some railroad tracks. Down those railroad tracks at night you can see a mysterious light called the Gurdon Light (that had long since been debunked as the train light reflecting off of swamp gas, yet remains a strong part of that towns folklore). Some idiot fellow freshmen decided that they we're going to go see the Gurdon Light on the night of a full moon. No way was I going to let these inexperienced idiots go alone, especially after asking "What are you going to do if you piss off a spirit?" And they answered with "There's a baseball bat in the trunk". Like... Friend... Buddy... Pal... The fuck? So I went with. After watching them freak out over every firefly and rustling leaf, I turned toward the car to get a better look around and off in the clearing just past the cemetary I saw a solid black crouched figure. It didn't seem friendly. I turned back toward the three idiots and saw that one of them, let's call him Justin, was staring straight towards that crouched figure. "You see it too, huh?" I asked him and he just nodded. "Look at it..." He said and I turned back towards and the crouched figure was slowly standing up. It was probably about 6' tall, taller than any of us there. "Car, now." I said and Justin immediately started heading to the car. The other two didn't seem to hear me so I repeated myself louder and we all hauled ass to the car. The other two who hadn't seen it saw it as we were leaving toward the dirt road that lead to the main road. They asked me what it was and honestly I have no idea what it was, whatever it was didn't want us in that graveyard.

There was another time, I had just moved into a new house and my best friend since 7th grade, let's call her Ashley, and I had a tradition every time we moved into a new house. We would draw our own Ouija board and we would figure out exactly what's in that house and what we need to watch out for or what we need to expect ect. Because we've both always been pretty sensitive to paranormal stuff. So as we sat in my room with the door open doing this Ouija board we finally contacted a spirit. It was a young girl, native American if the name and year was anything to go off of, and as we we're being led in circles in the answers to the questions, my bedroom door slowly started to close. We both look up at it. I explain to Ashley that my door doesn't do that. The door was heavy enough to where it didn't close because of gravity or anything and it took more than just the house settling to move it. The air conditioner was also off and no windows were open so it's very unlikely that there would've been any draft strong enough to move the door. So we decide to get up and look around. We were home alone because my siblings were visiting my grandparents and my mother was out doing grocery shopping, so the house was eerily quiet. The first room we go to is my siblings room, right across the hallway from my room. We stand in there and listen for a minute cause we're both getting weird vibes from the room and then suddenly the air conditioner bangs loudly, it never is that loud kicking on, and Ashley screams and shoves past me and runs out of the room and out the front door. I quickly follow after to make sure she's okay. I ask her what happened because I figured the air conditioner scared her and she took a moment to catch her breath before responding with "I saw a girl. She had two long, dark braids and a white dress". Very characteristic of a native American girl from the time era of integration, which was the time era that the spirit we were contacting was from. We go back inside, say goodbye on the Ouija board, and apologize for bothering her.

A rather funny one happened in that same house. This ones pretty short. I was practicing for a choir competition, if you're familiar with a competition called All Region then cool if not then really there's not much to know other than it's an audition for a special choir that can get you all sorts of bragging rights and scholarships. So to practice it, I would sing into my crappy laptop microphone, play it back, and see what parts exactly that I needed to work on and what I was good at ect. After a few rounds of singing a particularly difficult part, playing it back, then repeating, something strange popped up on the audio. I listened to that part a couple of times and determined that it wasn't the TV in the living room (my bedroom was the closest to the living room and it was a trailer so the walls weren't the most sound proof) because, well, after going through all the previous recordings, there was not even a hint of sound from the living room on any of them. So I went back to the strange recording and listened to it to try to determine exactly what it sounded like. Upon closer inspection, it was a male voice saying "You're really bad at that". Thanks, Mr. Ghost.

This one is really sad, and comes with a trigger warning of possible child abuse, the ghost being the victim of it. So, as with the past story involving Ashley, this story begins with her moving into a new house. This new house had a strange layout. The first floor was fairly normal; small kitchen, big open living room, and a hallway with the kids bathroom and the three bedrooms, there being a smaller bathroom in the master bedroom. Though, the height of the living room was two floors because above the kitchen there was a large loft type area, the stairs to it by the front door in the living room. That loft area was made into a video game room and basically the kids room, as much of a kids room as you can have for a 13 year old and a 16 year old. In it was a small closet where we stored the Rockstar guitars and drumset along with a ton of board games, the tiny closet had no door, it was just a tiny closet in a very inconvenient space in the middle of the part of the loft that overlooked the living room. Then on the other side where there was the actual wall, there was another door leading to a small room. Was it intended to be an extra bedroom? Strangely placed for that. It had a window on each of the three walls without the main door, one overlooking the driveway and two overlooking the surrounding woods. There was also a ceiling fan in it. The family used it as a storage room for just a bunch of random junk. Everyone dreaded going into that room, even Ashley's younger brother who was a bit too stupid to fear anything. This kid would rather jump off the loft onto the couch (about a 10-15 foot drop) than go into that room and he actually proved it. So, me and Ashley sat outside that room after taking a few months to gather up the courage and debate whether we should or not and we did the Ouija board. Every time you went into that room or even near the door, there was a heavy sense of dread. Dread, fear, nausea, migraines, all of it came from that room. So, we kind of assumed there was a demon in there. We braced ourselves as we started with the 'hello' and waited before I asked the first question. What we had gathered was that this was a kid from when the house was first built sometime in the mid 1900's, his name was Zach and he had died when he was just 15. He spent most, if not all of his time literally locked in the room. His father, maybe step father, we couldn't get a clear answer on that one, was a very not nice man who seemed to hate the boy, very little about his mother was found out because he was very vague and dodgy about questions about his mother. His father basically locked him in that room and barely let him leave, it was questionable as to whether he even went to school or not. His father beat him, starved him, and eventually he ended up dying due to the abuse and neglect. By then the emotions in that room were becoming too much for me and Ashley to bear and I said goodbye suddenly before going into the room, Ashley going to stop me but being too slow (she was still wary of it possibly being a demon who was lying to trick us because, well, us edgy teenagers thought everything was a demon), and I locked the door from the inside to keep her from getting in to stop me. She sighed and waited patiently outside the room. I sat in the middle of the room, cross legged, and honestly felt like I was going to either burst into tears or puke my guts up. I braved through it. I told the boy about my own abuse and neglect when I was not much younger than him, I told him that I understood and that it was okay to let go because the past couldn't keep you dragged down like this. He didn't have to spend his entire life in that room and that his father was no longer there to keep him in there. I told him that the events were in the past, and even if it still hurt, it was okay, because he wasn't alone. After that talk, it took about 15 minutes at the most, there was a metaphorical sigh of relief from the room. All the heaviness, all the dread, all the fear, it just...disappeared. The room was no longer painful, the room was now genuinely empty. I actually helped a spirit move on... Even Ashley felt it because as soon as he was gone, she asked very quietly if it was over and I unlocked the door and came out of the room and started crying. Even though the lighting hadn't changed at all, the room still seemed to glow a bit brighter from the sunlight. That's probably one of my favorite ghost stories to tell.

There was the time that I had a dream that I was by the school and saw a plane go down in the distance, shortly followed by a giant splash of water from where the plain would've landed in the distance. A few days later I watched the news and found out about Flight 370 going down. A similar premonition I had was less of a dream and more of a Final Destination sort of thing. I was sitting in the back seat, my boyfriend at the time (let's call him Gabe) was in the front passenger seat, and his best friend (let's call him Mark) was driving. Next thing I know my forehead was bloody, half of it mine and half of it not quite mine, and Mark was freaking the hell out. Then, just like in the FD movies, I was standing outside the car and we hadn't even left yet. I begged Gabe to sit in the back with me because I didn't wanna be lonely and he said only if the aux cord reached. Luckily it did. So he sat in the middle and I sat behind the passenger seat. We were going about 10 above the speed limit and a truck suddenly stopped in front of us. Mark slammed on his brakes about 30 feet behind the truck and, unfortunately, due to balding tires we skidding right into the back of the truck, causing the front end of Mark's brand new car to go under the back of the truck, push the engine into the car, and the passenger side airbag to deploy. After realizing what happened, we all exited the car. The only injury was Mark breaking his hand because he got so pissed about his brand new car that he punched a nearby stop sign. After taking the car to the mechanic to get it inspected for insurance purposes, it was revealed that I had saved Gabe's life. In the front passenger seat there was a ton of shrapnel that had shredded the front of that seat that would have definitely been at the right angle and height to shred Gabe's vital and vulnerably placed blood vessels.