#(i say to my self inflicted wounds)

[iminthetunnels]

NOT THE SWAT TEAM AND POLICE FORCE BLOCKING OFF MY ROAD ‼️‼️⚠️⚠️⚠️‼️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️‼️⚠️‼️⚠️‼️‼️‼️⚠️

I LOVE AMERICA. RED WHITE AND BLUE LETS GOOOOOO!!!!

[chamerionwrites]

Back on my bullshit (by which I mean, in this case, both "Skyrim" and "being unhinged about fraught father figure relationships even when they're not all that central to the narrative") but. Occasionally I think about how what we see of Arngeir's characterization beyond generic mystical mentor type is basically that of a guy with a naturally hot temper who, over the course of a long life spent meditating in a monastery, has painstakingly learned (though not mastered!) the art of chilling the fuck out or at least graciously apologizing (even as that same cloistered religious lifestyle has probably also fueled a bit of a stubborn/dogmatic streak).

And then I think about what this potentially suggests re: his feelings toward noted local stubborn intemperate hothead Ulfric Stormcloak (y'know, the guy who broke all their previously-shared religious vows yet still deferentially refers to him as "Master Arngeir") and go ever so slightly insane

[eddiexmunsn]

,

[cuteniarose]

It’s almost 6 a.m and I can’t sleep because I’m being plagued by thoughts of The Latest OC

[swiftdove]

collateral damage

pairing: rio vidal x agatha harkness x fem!reader

summary: after being stranded by your ex-lovers, you've found a new life, hoping to finally move on. unfortunately, fate just doesn't seem to be on your side.

content: angst, allusions to smut, sapphic yearning

a/n: i'm obsessed to say the least

You should've known.

From the moment Agatha stepped foot into your pitiful excuse of a store, you should've slammed the door shut. For years, you'd been reeling from the wounds inflicted by your so-called lover. If you could even call her that. Never, did she once, refer to you as anything other than her 'pet'.

You supposed the name was fitting. You were practically a dog, groveling at the ground she walked on. Hoping, begging, praying, dying that she wouldn't leave. 

Then, without a trace, she vanished from your life, set on her next twisted mission. You had simply been a means to an end, a brief footnote in her life. 

It didn't help that the only other person you cared about, Rio, had followed in Agatha's absence. They'd left you alone, desperately trying to piece together the shattered remains of what you once had. 

Sometimes, you wondered. You wondered if they ever felt guilty about what they did, and if they ever thought of you from time to time. Then, you scolded yourself for even daring to believe that the Agatha Harkness and Rio Vidal would have the time of day to care about you. You had drowned in that pit of self-deprecation for years, slowly re-learning how to live without them. 

And just as you thought you were finally free, the wretched witch came back, pulling you back under her spell. If it were anyone else, you would have said 'no'. But it wasn't just 'anyone else'. It was Agatha. You weren't sure where this sick, borderline-obsessive love for her came from. You had left it to depreciate in the back of your mind, where you would have preferred for it to have stayed.

Unfortunately, Agatha had had other plans.

It was stupid. You hated yourself for it.  You hated that tiny spark that you felt when she said your name, that familiar warmth in your chest when she came close. You would've given anything to stop the feeling.

If only Agatha knew. Throughout her long, melodramatic speech about the rewards of The Road, all you could do was stare at her in disbelief. The promise of being with her, even if it were for a short while, was enough to have convinced you. If you had known, back then, that Rio would have been joining you, you would have eagerly accepted the offer without hesitating.

But then again, time had cast a golden glow over your past relationships. You hadn't remembered how unwanted you had felt in their presence, how much they hadn't cared about you.

Sat around the warmth heat of the fireplace, your gaze lay wistfully on the two women. Situated across from them, you felt more distant to them than you had when you were alone.

"I have a scar," Rio suddenly spoke, glancing over at the coven.

"No, you don't," Agatha shot back, almost instantly. 

Your ears perked, waiting for Rio's next words.

"Yes, I do," Rio replied, glancing over at Agatha, her solemn gaze worth a thousand unspoken words. It was their dynamic, their silent conversations, that left you feeling like a second-choice. The feeling settled into the pit of your stomach, which you desperately tried to keep from coming back up.

"A long time ago, I loved someone." Rio shot another pointed look at Agatha. "And I had to do something that I did not wanna do, even though it was my job. And it hurt them. She is my scar."

If you had the choice to go deaf right there and then, you would have chosen it immediately. Although, you knew it wouldn't stop the sharp pain you felt in your heart. Seeing them together was enough. 

"I have to go stretch my legs," Agatha said, walking away.

Just like she used to walk away from every problem in her life. Like she did with you.

You couldn't bear it. One more second in their presence, and you were sure you would have thrown up.

"Same," you replied quietly, walking in the opposition direction to your past lover. 

It was only until the warmth of the fire was long gone, that you felt the tears sliding down your cheeks. 

Breaking down into sobs, you brought your knees to your chest, burying your head inside. You shouldn't have come. You should have said no. 

It seemed as though fate was constantly punishing you, tugging at your heartstrings until they threatened to break. You hated that a part of you wanted to hurt them. Just enough, so that you too would have left a scar. But you knew you couldn't do it. You wouldn't. Not after they shared, so intimately, their past with you, letting you devour every fiber of their being.

You knew why they were the way that they were. That's why it hurt so much to watch them, again and again, fall victim to their pasts. That's why you could never leave, knowing how much pain they had endured, knowing that their wounds ran too deep to ever heal.

Sympathy was a knife, stabbed straight into your back when they left you to dry.

"You good?"

You'd been so deep in your emotions, you hadn't noticed the dark shadow looming over you. Swiveling around, you were met with a pair of manic brown eyes.

"Rio," you exhaled, quickly wiping away your tears. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Rio shook her head softly, pushing her tongue against her right cheek. Her fingers trailed up your leg, sending shivers down your spine. 

"Come on, now," she lulled. "You never were much of a good liar."

"Maybe I've changed," you replied sharply, pulling away from her touch.

Rio's grip tightened, her fingernails digging into your thigh. "Maybe you have," she replied dismissively. "Is that why you never called?"

You scoffed, turning away from her piercing stare. "No. We're not doing this - this wasn't my fault. You and Agatha left without saying a word to me. Call me crazy for assuming you were done with me."

"Now there's the Y/N I know," Rio bit back. "Always jumping to conclusions."

You rolled your eyes at her. "What does it matter anyways? You seem perfectly fine without me. I didn't seem to have left a scar."

"Is that what this is about?" Rio questioned, a taunting grin tugging at her lips.

You refused to dignify her question with an answer.

"Aww, was our little baby feeling left out?"

A mocking, cruel voice rang out in the air, one that you knew all too well.

"Fuck off, Agatha," you snapped. You were hardly in the mood to deal with her heartless jests tonight.

"Someone's forgotten their manners," Agatha remarked, her voice laced with venom. 

Rio chuckled, her grip still deathly tight on your thighs. You could feel the blood seeping out of your skin, onto her fingers.

"I wish I could have forgotten you instead," you retorted, unsure where this newfound attitude was coming from. 

"Now, now. Don't get too cocky," Rio warned, although the grin on her face said something entirely different.

You bit back a scoff. "What's this, anyways? Last time I checked, you both hated each other."

The Green Witch shrugged. "We both share a common interest."

Refusing to take anymore of this, you made a move away from them, eager to escape Rio's death grip. Unfortunately, the two witches were unwilling to let you get away so easily.

"Don't," Agatha cautioned, her voice alone enough to stop you in your tracks.

"What do you want?" you snapped, finally turning towards her.

Your eyes narrowed as Agatha's smile turned into something sinister.

"You," she replied definitively. 

You laughed sarcastically, barely believing what was happening right now. "Are you fucking kidding me? You left me. You can't - I - don't you think we're too far gone now? I mean, you left me wondering where the hell you -"

"We didn't want to leave," Rio interjected.

"Then why did you?" 

"We cared too much about you to stay," Rio explained, gently interlocking your fingers with hers. "It would've only have hurt you."

"Well, you hurt me either way," you replied bitterly, flinching at the coldness of the witch's fingers.

Rio sighed. "I know. I know we did."

Exasperated, Agatha tilted your head up with her fingers, forcing you to look her in the eyes. "Pet, we're sorry."

"Well, sorry doesn't cut it anymore. Not in my books," you snapped, wrenching yourself out of their grasps. "And don't call me that. I'm not your pet."

Without looking back, you walked back towards the fireplace. Unbeknownst to you, the two witches you left behind were hardly satisfied with your answer.

"She's forgotten who she belongs to," Rio murmured, staring into the back of your head.

Agatha tightened her jaw, shaking her head. Her eyes met Rio's, a knowing smirk playing on their lips. 

"It looks like we'll have to teach her a lesson then, hm?"

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers. 

Long night, huh? I remember those days. 

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 

But that’s not the topic at hand. 

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow. 

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response. 

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 

He can’t not worry. 

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 

-

part nine

[astrotruther]

Astro Observations

misc. (ii)

🐉 Narcissists may have Mars-Uranus aspects in their chart. Mars’s energy can be either constructive or destructive; pair that with Uranus' erratic quality, and it could make one manipulative. In my opinion, Mars & Uranus having more harsh aspects to multiple other planets could further confirm this. Look out for squares, especially Moon square Mars!

🐉 Sun harsh aspects to Neptune, even conjunction can be somewhat superficial. Neptune may bless them with a mystique that attracts public attention, but they stick to a surface-level public persona. Artists with these aspects may stick to cookie-cutter projects. E.g. Colleen Hover responding to criticism by saying 'I write to entertain not to educate'. Jake Paul also has this aspect. In worst cases there's a delusional egotism to this aspect. On the other hand, easy aspects will be more willing to go within and proudly display their shadows, creating art that is meaningful and leaves a lasting legacy.

🐉 I've observed Scorpio Sun/ Moon in charts of those who backhandedly bully people over things like their appearance. Water Moons in general are capable of inflicting deep emotional wounds to others when unevolved. Having Mercury in a fire sign makes it a lot worse since the words become harsher. I've had a Scorpio Sun - Pisces Moon girl admit to me that she makes fun of people because she had the same done to her while growing up.

🐉 Libra MC are often told they should be models. Understandable because they're so photogenic!

🐉 Pluto-Ascendant easy aspects & conjunction are always reinventing themselves. It's easier for these people to let go of things that don't serve them and realign themselves with their inner true selves. They're skilled at coming to terms with their dark sides and alchemizing it to create a positive impact in the world.

🐉 On the contrary, harsh aspects may feel like they can't be themselves due to external factors or a certain image/ aesthetic that they have to uphold. Some may be child actors/ activists or made it big in early years making it hard to disrupt their public persona. It's way harder for them to branch out within their career field. Ascendant at 0° might have the same effect. E.g. Billie Eilish, Demi Lovato, Finn Wolfhard, Darsheel Safary, Malala Yousafzai, Meghan Trainor, Hilary Duff.

🐉 I've seen so many takes on the 0° & most people romanticizing it somehow. It may manifest in a divine way for those who are self-aware/ have evolved. however MOST people aren't. So it gives a somewhat negative quality to the placement, e.g. Jake Paul has his MC at 0°.

🐉 Moon-Pluto aspects not only symbolize a strained relationship with the mother but also with other women. A lot of trauma you accumulated while growing up was because of the women around you. Some of them may have made you feel bad about yourself because they were threatened by you. The signs Moon & Pluto are in could give more context, e.g. Aries Moon, Sag. Pluto = invalidating your anger, not letting you be yourself and forcing you to be someone they like, forcing religion on you from a young age etc.

🐉 Uranus square MC will have a career-ruining public scandal at least once. All I can say is avoid doing shady stuff and if it's external factors beyond your control, handle it with grace, lay low, you'll get your chance to shine again.

🐉 Moon square Lilith is an enemy placement. Moon person hates Lilith person's guts because Lilith person may have hurt them in some way. Moon could want revenge on Lilith for what they did.

🐉 Venus-Saturn aspects may have had people criticize their appearance while growing up, but they end up having insane glow-ups. Their most attractive years come somewhat later in life and they age very gracefully.

🐉 Moon in Cancer/ Moon conjunct Jupiter people possess the ability to manipulate, sometimes on a mass level. It's on them to use their emotional superpowers to influence people in a positive way and not just keep banking on their victim narratives. Nonetheless, these people can hold public interest for a long time.

🐉 Venus in 10th House synastry is often a clout/ PR couple. E.g. Glenn Powell & Sydney Sweeney.

Click daily to help Palestinians🍉🙏🏽: https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

[nebulaafterdark]

At The Pleasure Of The Crown (Part 2)

Summary: Aegon and his wife regularly visit the silk streets. One night they happen upon Aemond behind one of the curtains, the rest is history.

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, smut, infidelity, manipulation, etc.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Part 1

Aegon and Aemond have been at war from the time they were boys. Over what exactly, neither can say. For Aegon’s part, he’s never truly known the love of his mother, not the way Aemond did. Mayhaps that is where it started.

The tree remembers, the axe forgets.

Despite the teasing his elder brother inflicted upon him, Aemond wanted only to win his approval; and that of his father. Marrying Y/N boosted Aegon’s worth in Viserys’ eyes, while Aemond remained the boy irreparably damaged, over an insult.

The tree remembers, the axe forgets.

Then of course there is Y/N, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen; used as a means to broker peace between warring houses since she was no more than a child. Made to ease the suffering of those around her, at great personal expense.

The tree remembers, the axe forgets.

Each of them shaped by unsteady hands, hoping only for the best.

The tree remembers, the axe regrets.

Over the moon turn since Aemond hath inserted himself upon their union, not one of them has known peace. All angry or pining for another, because of a misunderstanding. Because of a book, because of a sword fight, because of a single glance.

Even seated round the council table, Aemond stares at their entwined hands. Love is a curious thing, in all its different forms. Y/N is never going to love him the way she does Aegon.

“What will my children call you?”

“Aemond, or uncle. Same as they always have.”

“What will your children call me?” The wound is still fresh, raw and aching as Aegon presses against it.

“It will be nearly impossible to tell…whether they are yours or mine, until they are grown.” Aemond admits, “I suppose they might call us both father.”

Y/N buries her head in her hands, sick with the guilt of what she’s done.

Dying in the name of love is noble sacrifice, killing one’s self to love another is a senseless endeavor.

“Sometimes these things happen.”

————————————————————————

“Are you not speaking to me?” Aemond asks, when he manages to get Y/N alone.

“What difference does it make? My words mean little to you.”

Aemond sighs, “I apologize for my lapse in judgment. I should not have said those things to Aegon.”

“Knowing what he means to me, how could you be so cruel?” The princess snaps.

Aemond purses his lips, “my brother made fun of me for the whole of my life. I saw an opportunity to return the favor. I am sorry for it.”

“Is that what this is to you?” Y/N whispers, “is that what I am to you? Revenge against your brother, at long last?”

“No,” Aemond growls, “you are…you know what you are to me.”

“Speak it.” Y/N insists, “tell me what I am to you.”

Aemond closes the space between them, taking her face between his hands. “You are my friend.”

“And that is enough for you?”

“If that is all I’m allowed.” Those who are starved will eat anything.

“Even if we were to marry, it would not be fair to you. I love Aegon, I will always love him. We grew up together, he and I. Day and night for ten years, we have been together. I enjoy your company and I should like to keep it, but I am in want of a friend. I have a husband.”

To be so tragically entangled.

“It matters not if he is studied in the histories, or if he holds interest in matters of the court. So long as I am studied, so long as I hold interest in the court. The duties are mine, the burdens are mine.”

“I only wish to help you,” Aemond breathes.

“You can’t,” Y/N shakes her head. “You cannot help me. You cannot come into my life and uproot it. I’ve children, Aemond. Aegon’s children, who need my love and affection more than anyone.

Children who grow up in the absence of love spend the rest of their lives wanting for it; no matter how much they are given. Like pouring into a bottomless cup, endless and painful because it never fills. It is cracked from the time they are small and can never be fixed. I’ve seen the difference between children born of love and those born of duty. My children will know which they are.”

“Who fills your cup once he’s drained it?”

“The gods provide.” Y/N swipes at traitorous tears, threatening to fall. “They always do.”

“Whores then,” Aemond understands. Why the pleasure house, why the wine, why the constant thirst for knowledge. “I could fuck you as well as any.”

Y/N turns away from him. “It would mean something more to you and…”

“It would not mean a thing to me.”

————————————————————————

Aemond makes his way to the silk streets, tearing back curtains, until he spots the silver sheen of his brother’s hair. Pressed back into a pillow as one of the brunettes works herself over his cock. It is not lost on him, how much the pretty little thing resembles Aegon’s wife. “I need a word with you.”

Aegon huffs a laugh, feeling the woman above him begin to pull away. “Ah, ah,” he chides, “you stay right there. Doing the gods’ work, you are.”

The woman sighs, happily, “thank you, your grace.”

He gives her hips an affection squeeze, before turning his attention back to Aemond. “What is it you need?”

“I was hoping to apologize, for the way I have conducted myself.”

“All is forgiven, brother.” Aegon waves a dismissive hand. “My wife is an endearing mystery, it is not your fault for taking interest.”

Aemond cocks his head to the side, “to what do I owe your sudden change of heart?”

“Y/N and I talked,” Aegon grins. “Whichever parts of her you are stimulating, do it well for me. Tell her I love her, while you’re at it.”

Part 3

Series Taglist : @oh-you-mean-me @callsignwidow @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @cluz1babe @visenyareads @kiwibaekie

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: anon request - "can you do one where y/n likes Colby and he likes her but they don't really do anything about it but flirt until they're at the spot and a ghost/demon thing (you can completely make up the scenario), torments and targets y/n to the point she's crying and runs out with Colby chasing after her? Pleaseeeee"

Warning: This one shot will start out kinda funny and flirty between reader and Colby, but it will get dark and contain the reader being targeted by the spirits and some actions include; being touched, pushed, choked, scratched, spoken to, and other things some readers might find a bit creepy. There will also be mentions of murder at the place of exploration and other bad things some readers may be triggered by.

Read with care my lovelies!

Word count: 10.3k

Disclaimer: I completely made this story up!

"We're going to explore the Hellriegel Manor in a few days.. you in?" Colby says on the other end of the phone. You smile to yourself and sigh, "I suppose I can make time in my very busy schedule for you."

You are always up for doing a video with them, even hanging out with them off camera. You've known them for a while, so sleeping over at their place or in the same tent while in the middle of some haunted woods wasn't that big of a deal, or so you thought.

"You better, y/l/n. We need you on this one." Colby chuckles to myself, "Plus, we kinda miss you out here."

You liked Colby, a lot actually. Sam is always teasing you guys, mainly because he knows he likes you too, but you both always shoot it down for stupid reasons.

You thought that maybe it would be best if you just kept him as a close friend, but the light flirting and how comfortable you are with each other makes it incredibly hard, not to mention, you and Colby are always thinking about each other though, especially when you crash at their place, and when you're asleep in a tent within in an arms reach away from each other.

You laugh as you hear Sam in the background yelling, "Don't let him lie to you y/n. He's been crying like a baby every night since you've been gone."

Point proven.

"Shut up, dude, my god. She can hear you." Coby says with a groan and you can tell that he's getting shy, "Fuck." You picture his big smile as you grab your laptop, listening to them bicker back and forth like usual.

You had to admit, you missed them, too. Even though you're visiting your family on the east coast, you honestly felt homesick.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow." You bite your lip, waiting for a response but it's quiet, "Um, hello?"

You hear muffled yelling, and you already know that it's Colby trying to get Sam to keep his mouth shut, "That's great, y/n! See you tomorrow!" Colby yells over Sam trying to yell out.

"Stop it. Please." You can hear Colby laugh, and Sam yells, still slightly muffled, "Bye!"

You hang up and shake your head laughing as you click open a new tab and type in the place Colby said you're going.

"Hellriegel Manor." You repeat to out loud after reading one do the old newspaper headlines. You scroll down as your eyes scan over the screen,

Multiple prostitutes brutally murdered in Hellriegel Manor

Callum Hellriegel is the devil himself

The ruthless murder of Hellriegel Manor revealed

Callum Hellriegel, killer found dead by self inflicted gunshot wound to head

The town thinks workers at the manor were involved

You blink a few times, shaking your head as you let out a sigh. You reach for your phone and FaceTime Colby.

He picks up fast, "Hey."

"So a possible demon. That's nice." You look into the camera and tilt your head. He takes a deep breath and lets out a long sigh, "I was trying to wait until you got here to tell you, but I guess cats out of the bag."

You nod, "Yeah, yeah." You laugh slightly and squint, "Oh no." Colby looks behind him then back to you, "What?"

"It's quiet... did you finally kill Sam?" You smile slowly and he laughs, "No, no. He's upstairs editing."

"So I called at the right time then, huh?" You tease and he nods with a smile, "Yeah, yeah, you did."

You move back onto your bed, continuing to look up the manor, "Colby."

"Yes?" He asks staring at you through his phone, but he looks away when you look, "This place looks fucking creepy, and it sounds even worse."

You know what he's about right say next, so you cut him off by speaking, "I'm still going." You bite your lip as you read, "I think with having a girl there, it might help us figure out what really happened."

He nods, "I was taking to Sam about that, too, actually. It also might be the worse because of how bad that Callum dude is made out to be."

"Yeah, but.." You nod slowly as you read more, and your eyes widen, "Colby."

"Y/n."

"Do you know what Hellriegel means?" Your eyes move over to your phone that's propped up against your computer screen and he shakes his head, "Probably something not good."

"It means the Devil, in German." You swallow slowly, "Fuck I have the chills now."

"Again.. if you do-"

"I'm going." You smirk, "My flight is already booked and.." just as you were about to say something really sweet, you hear Colby groan and Sam appears on the screen, "Ayo!"

You laugh and wave, "Hi again Sam."

"She's looking up Hellriegel Manor." Colby looks up at him and he sighs, "Does that mean you cancelled your flight?"

You scoff, "Please. Do you not have any faith in me, Golbach?" He smirks and rolls his eyes, "You right. Plus you'll have this guys, Mr intimidator here, to protect you." He grabs Colby's shoulders and shakes him slightly.

Colby's face is turning red, but so were your cheeks. You had to admit, it's getting a lot harder for you to resist each other, especially when he is making sure you're okay in the middle of an investigation.

He was and is the one you run to when you're jumping out of your skin scared.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. I gotta go tell my parents that I'm leaving tomorrow." You pick up your phone and set your laptop down before you get up.

"Text us your landing time and we'll be here." Sam says and you give him a thumbs up. He walks away and Colby points the phone back to him, "Tell them we said hey and I'll see you tomorrow."

You smile and nod, "I will, and I'll see you tomorrow."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You couldn't stop thinking about what Colby said, about this possibly being a bad idea about you going, but you never turned away an adventure with Sam and Colby.

You're not going to start now.

As you walk through the airport, you hear your name being called. You jump slightly and turn, seeing Sam and Colby walking up to you.

"How was your flight?" Sam asks bringing you in for a hug. You hug him back, "It was alright, boring but alright." You look over at Colby who can't wait to have you in his arms, as you lean back from Sam.

"Glad you made it here safe." Colby wraps his arms around you, pulling you in close to him. You close your eyes, happy to be back with them until Sam clears his throat, "Maybe get a room or something?"

"Dude." Colby says loosening his arms from your waist as he turns to him trying not to laugh. You roll your eyes, "You'll never quit will you?"

He shrugs and holds his hands up, "Maybe if you guys would just admit that you like each other.."

"Oh my god." You try to hide your smile, but ayour cheeks regaining that blush of pink like normal doesn't help matters at all, "Can we just go please? I'm hungry."

Colby laughs slightly and wheels your suitcase behind him, "Yes. Please." He glares over at Sam who can't help but smirk at him.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Back at the house, they give you the rundown on what they know about Hellriegel.

"So as you already know, Callum Hellriegel was a very.." Sam trials off as he tilts his head and you raise your eyebrows, "Devil of a man?"

Sam nods, "Exactly."

Colby speaks up, "There's been a mix of good and bad investigations, so it's really hard to tell what exactly we'll be dealing with."

You nod, "Hmm. Well I mean, if it gets too bad we can always high tail it out of there."

Colby nods, "Yeah, exactly. did you read up on anything else after our call or no?" You shake your head, "Since you said you wanted to fill me in, I figured I'd wait. Hear what you have to say." You smirk slightly and he nods.

"How nice of you." Sam says laughing, "But on a serious note guys.." he looks to Colby and back at you, "we truly have no idea what we're going to walk into."

"That's the exciting part though, right?" You shrug and smile, trying to stay positive because you were actually shitting your pants about going to this place.

"Bingo." Sam points and looks at his phone when it goes off, "That's the owner of the manor.." he answers, "Hello?"

You and Colby exchange smiles as you look back to Sam who is nodding, "Alright sick, yeah thank you." He hangs up and looks between you and Sam, "Tomorrow night."

You're kinda shocked but then again, kinda not surprised that it's happening this soon, "Oh great."

"What? Getting scared are we?" Sam teases and you side eye him, "Where is your faith in me, Sam? We talked about this." You laugh and he shakes his head, "I honestly didn't expect him to let us in that easy. It's always been a fight for other investigators to go there."

You smile, "You guys are changing the world, how could they not?"

"You're a part of this team too, y/n.." Colby smiles and looks from you to Sam, "So we are changing the world." He looks back to you, "You sure you're up for this?"

"I'm sure."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

It wasn't until two am when you stared up at the ceiling, wondering if you really are sure about this. The more you thought about it the more it scared you but this is what you do, you remind yourself over and over again.

This is what you do.

Luckily, this isn't the first time you've been in this situation, and each time you are, both Sam and Colby make sure you're okay, along with each other of course.

You let out a sigh, rolling over to face the tv and your phone lights up. You reach out, grabbing it to pull back over to you and you see it's a message from Colby, I know you're nervous about this place and honestly.. we are too, but if things do turn bad, we'll get out of there.

You turn onto your back and a smile rests on your lips and your thumbs quickly tap the keyboard on your screen, I was actually needing that reassurance right now. I can't sleep because I am very nervous about tomorrow, but we've probably been through worse, right?

As you're waiting for a reply, you see a twitter notification pop up at the top of your screen and you laugh slightly, "Fucking Sam."

You click on the notification,

@/SamGolbach: New video popping up soon! @/Colbybrock, @/yourtwittername, and myself are going to be spending the night in the Hellriegel Manor. Stay tuned!!

You like the tweet and retweet it with a bunch of nervous face emojis and Colby instantly likes it.

You click on your group chat with both Sam and Colby, So we're all just up huh?

Sam texts back, Um, no. Only losers who won't confess their love for each other are awake at 2 in the morning

Same texts back again, talking about you Brock

Colby sends you a text separately then replies into the group chat, I'm not up what are you talking about?

You laugh as you type, bring the party down here, I'm kinda freaking myself out

Sam instantly replies, Take it to Colby's room

"Sam!" You hear Colby yell from upstairs and then a door opens, "Only trying to help." Sam says as he comes down the stairs, a shirtless Colby behind him, "Only making it worse, brother."

You sit up, looking back at them, "Can you turn the light on, please?"

Colby nods, flipping the light on and Sam instantly yells, "Oh my god, behind you."

You jump up off the couch, running backwards towards them and you push Sam when you turn to him, "Asshole."

"That wasn't cool, man." Colby shakes his head at Sam and you look up at Colby, "You can laugh." He fights it, and shakes his head, "No.. no.. it's alright."

You roll your eyes and make your way back to the couch, turning on a YouTube video about the manor, "Let's learn all we can shall we?"

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You don't even know when you fell asleep, you just know that when you woke up, you weren't alone. You look up at a still sleeping Colby, smiling slightly as you listen to him snore softly.

Your attention is ripped away when you hear Sam coming down the steps carrying his backpack, "Mornin' sleepy heads.. or head.. I'll let you wake the beast."

You smirk and shake your head, looking back at Colby, staring at him for a few seconds before tapping his chest, "Hey, Colbs."

He doesn't budge so you tap harder and lean in, "Colby." He jumps slightly and looks at you with an immediate smile taking over his face, "oh hey." He stretches his arm slightly, "What time is it?"

You tilt your head back, "Sam what time is it?"

"Almost time to leave."

"That doesn't give me a-"

"It's nine." He smirks when you look at him, raising his eyebrows as he motions to you and Colby, making a heart with his hands. You wave him off and look back at Colby, "It's nine."

He sighs and sits up, "Okay. So we have an hour until Sam wants to leave."

"You know me so well." Sam says walking over and grabbing stuff off the coffee table. You tilt your head, "More like you drilled it into our heads repeatedly last night."

He mocks you before sighing, "Do you have to fight me on everything?"

You stand up and stretch, "Would I be one of your friend if I didn't?"

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

After getting everything around, you finally make your way to the car.

"I figured we could film the intro once we got there?" Sam says playing around with the camera. Colby nods, "Works for me."

You lean back in the seat, clicking on the message Colby sent you before they came downstairs last night, I really didn't expect you to be awake so this is awkward, but you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, right? And I don't just mean that with the ghost hunting.

You smile to yourself, but snap out of it when Sam starts talking and you know he's recording, "We are on our way to Hellriegel Manor, we just left a little bit ago so we should be there in like two hours or so. How are you guys feeling?"

He turns the camera to Colby, "Colby. How are we feeling, buddy?"

Colby shrugs and laughs, "I am ready to try and get answers on whether this is truly a demon or not."

Sam turns the camera back to you, "Y/n. You shaking in your boots back there?"

"No but I will be once we hit that final stretch towards it." You laugh, "I'm excited."

Sam turns the camera around so it's on all of you, "We will keep you guys updated along the way. So far it'll be driving but you guys, luckily get to skip that part." He cuts the camera off and you can't help but laugh.

"What?" Sam asks turning and Colby laughs with you, "I'm laughing because she's laughing."

You sigh, "I don't even know why I'm laughing. I think I'm nervous now."

"Well, we can drop you off here. It's not a long walk back." Sam teases and you know he can feel your glare through the back of his seat, Colby's too.

"I'm kidding. I'm kidding." Sam laughs and it's pretty much just joking back and forth the whole way there because let's face it, you were scared to go there and you were all worried about each other.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Sam clicks the camera on as you drive through the rusted old gate, "We have arrived at our destination." He points the camera to Colby and he gives a big smile as he laughs, "I think I just shit my pants. This place is fucking creepy even in the day time, man." He leans forward, looking at the huge, visibly old house.

"Look at those pillars." Sam says with a sigh, "I have a feeling we underestimated this guys."

You nod, "Mhm." Sam puts the camera on you as Colby parks the car and you purse your lips together, "I just got cold."

Both of them turn back to look at you, "Really?" Colby asks and looks at Sam, "That's not good."

Sam turns the camera around and makes a face, "We literally just pulled up and already one of us is feeling something. If that doesn't say anything about this place.."

"You guys didn't feel that? I mean maybe it was a freak thing, but as soon as we went through the gate, I felt something and then the closer we got to the house I got a chill."

"Wow." Sam is shocked, "Alright, well on that note, we'll see you guys in a second." He ends it and turns back to you, "Are you good?"

You nod, "Yeah, yeah. I'm good." Colby looks back at you, giving you an are you actually look and you nod again, "Let's go."

As you get out of the car, Sam starts rolling again, "Alright guys, we are here at the Hellriegel Manor." He shows the old building, "This place is just.. I don't know."

"I'll tell you what it is, insane." Colby says while straining his voice as he leans into the camera.

You knew tonight wasn't going to be a good night, for you at least. You have continuously felt energy since the moment you crossed through the gate, and some of it wasn't good.

"Y/n?" Colby says walking over to you, "You good? You just like zoned out for a minute there."

You blink a few times and look up at him, "We might not be spending the whole night here."

Sam moves up to you, "Really? Why do you-"

"Something just moved in that very top-right window." You point and Sam moves the camera up to it, "Shit, are you serious? Colby did you see that?"

Colby shakes his head, "Shit. No."

"You Sam and Colby?" An older guy who's followed by two more guys, yells out.

"Hey, yes sir.." Colby says walking over and you and Sam follow him, "I'm Colby, this is Sam, and y/n."

You all shake hands and the guy sighs, "I'm Dean, these are my two sons, Riley and Luke. What all have you heard about this place?"

"Callum Hellreigel is a big name attached to this place, right? He was the one who caused all of the prostitutes to go missing?" Sam asks as he hands the camera to Colby.

Dean nods, "Yeah, in or around 1927, it was rumored that the reason he was killing these women, was for sacrifices, but people who have worked in the house swore up and down he didn't but who knows.." as Dean goes on explaining more about the manor, you suddenly feel a wave of dizziness was over you and you close your eye.

"No shit." Colby nods, "Do you know why he was doing that or .. anything?"

"Whoa. Hey, y/n." Sam moves to your other side and taps your arm, "You with us?"

You slowly open your eyes, "He doesn't like us talking about him." You can tell everyone around you tenses, "Sam once you said his name, I got dizzy."

"He likes you." Dean says wagging his finger at you, "He always likes the pretty ones."

Colby shifts towards you and you look over at him. He hands the camera to Sam and looks back up at Dean who sighs, "You might have the best of luck tonight, y/n."

"Great." You laugh slightly, "We also heard that it's hit or miss with how good or bad it can be."

Dean nods, "Oh yeah. Very much so. We've had people come in who didn't get anything but a few knocks and we've had people who were so overwhelmed within two hours they had to leave."

"That's crazy, dude." Sam says and looks at you and Colby. Colby shakes his head and laughs slightly, "Well we mean no harm, we just want to try and figure out if those old news articles were right."

"There's another figure in the window." You point to the same window and they all look up but it disappears.

"Are you talking about the far window on the right?" Dean slowly turns towards you and you nod, "Mhm."

He nods, "That's where his room is."

"Am I seeing him?" Your heart starts to race and Dean shrugs, "Very well could be." He nods towards the house, "Come on, we'll give you the tour."

"Are you okay?" Colby asks holding onto your arm. You nod, "This is going to be a very good video for you guys.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"You know. During the day it's not as scary." Sam says with a nervous laugh, "Right?"

One of Dean's sons laughs, "Wait for sundown."

"I don't wanna wait for sun down.. sun please stay up." Sam laughs along with the rest of you.

"Now this room is the room where he held about five woman at a time. They'd come in here and basically wait for their turn with Callum." Dean opens the door and you guys walk into a small room, "There was always a guard, or whatever you want to call them, in here with them at all times."

"Oh wow." You shake your head, "This is.." you look around, "They were scared." Right after you say that, there's a thud and you all look towards the door.

"that sounded like it came from downstairs." Sam whispers, and soon after there's another thud, but closer. Colby walks over and looks, "There's no one out here dude. That was so loud, though."

"I'd say they were more than scared, sweetheart." Dean walks over and lifts up the loose wallpaper, revealing names that were scratched into the wall behind it, "Even the guards would mistreat the women who were held here."

"And he never got caught? How many years did he do this for?" Colby asks slightly confused, "like no one ever thought of check on the missing women from the town that's right down over the hill?" He laughs and looks at Sam who nods, "Right like you'd think that."

As they talk, you think for few moments quietly before tilting your head, "When we walk in, I could have swore I heard a whisper and now that I see this.." you walk over and bend down, "It was definitely Izzie."

"No fucking way." Sam says and walks over, showing the wall to the camera, "so like right when you walked in it was like bam someone whispering Izzie?"

You stand up and look at him, "I swear to god. I thought maybe I brushed against something like my jacket did.." you scratch your jacket off the wall, "but no. It was clearly a whisper."

"Oh my god." Colby says dragging it out slightly, "This is crazy."

"There's two more rooms you need to see, one of them being the basement." Dean motions for you guys to follow him and you make your way to the master bedroom.

"So this is where he stayed most of the time?" Sam asks, "With these prostitutes or whatever?"

Dean nods, "Yep, yeah he basically lived in here and right.." he pauses and walks over to the window and points on the ground, "..over here. Is where he shot himself."

"So wait.." you point to the window and walk over, looking out with a gasp, "oh my god." You look out at the spot you stood in when you seen the apparition in the window.

"Correct." Dean says and turns, "He would bring the women in here one at a time, do what he promised them lots of money to do and then they'd just never leave."

"That's dark, man. Sad too." Colby frowns and shakes his head. Dean nods, "So the other girls caught on pretty quick as to what was happening."

"I can't imagine the fear that was brought onto them as they waited to just die basically." Sam looks around amd Dean points to you, "If you want to try contacting him. You'll probably have the best luck. Lay on the bed if you feel brave enough."

Your heart sinks, "Oh shit, I don't think-" you look at the door quickly, but whatever was there vanishes, "the door way. Someone is watching us."

You walk over, looking out but nothing else is there. You turn back towards them, camera on you, "It's really cold right here."

"You're the first to honestly say they saw something in this room." Dean says and you raise your eyebrows, "Really?"

"Does he move around a lot or does he mainly stay in this room?" Colby asks but jumps when there's footsteps in the hallway. You lean back and shake your head, "Nothing."

"I've had people come in and say there's many, many spirits here." Dean points, "but the one I get feedback on most on the time is the basement. Lots say it's the worst, and I'll show you why." He motions for you to follow him.

Sam cuts the camera off, "I think you may be right, y/n." You walk with him and Colby as you follow the others, "We definitely underestimated this place." You look between them and walks down the steps.

As you approach the slightly skinny basement door, Sam starts recording as Dean turns to you, "You might not like it down here." He looks the door and he reveals a, very unsettling, dark stair well.

You turn and give the camera a fake crying face, "Oh no."

"There are no lights, we did put lights in, but they must not like them, so you have to use flashlights so be careful coming down." Dean says and everyone pulls their phones out and switches the flash on.

Dean and his sons go down first and you and the boys follow, "Hold on, I just want to see how dark it is." Sam switches off the light and everyone covers their lights, "Oh fucking hell."

You immediately grab onto Colby's jacket and his hand immediately goes to the side of your leg, both keeping a hold of each other until Sam turns the light back on. Colby laughs, "that's the, you can't see your hand in front of your face dark."

"Now, keep that in mind because down here.." Dean pauses, "They only had candles for light down here I'm pretty sure.."

You reach the bottom and your heart feels like it's working overtime. You feel dizzy, grabbing onto the first thing you could, Colby's arm, to not fall back.

"Whoa." He wraps an arm around your waist and you nod, "Dean.. let me tell you something.." you laugh slightly and point at him.

He nods, "You don't like it down here do you?" You shake your head, "Not at all." Your eyes scan over what you can see of the old jail cells.

You felt pain and sadness, and just flat out awful.

"Down here, they kept at least twenty more women at a time, five to a cell." Riley points, "Right above the last cell over there, is where the five upstairs were, so that cell you could hear almost everything, because there's a vent, for whatever reason."

"Did they make that vent so they could hear the screams and shit on purpose or?" Sam asks looking over towards the cell.

Dean nods, "I mean, it's very possible because it's literally just a straight shot, so. I wouldn't have put it past him, he was-"

A bottle rolls down the steps and you close your eyes, "No, no, no." You laugh nervously, "There's no fucking way."

"Are you kidding me right now?" Sam turns to Colby, "We didn't even start the investigation yet and a fucking bottle.. rolls down the steps?"

Colby's eyes are wide and his mouth is open, "Did you catch that?" Sam nods, "then sound and then maybe the end of it coming down." He sighs, "Oh what the hell did we get ourselves into?"

"I don't know but I'm scared." You admit, "This isn't going to be easy." You say into the camera and Colby crosses his arms, "What would they do down here exactly? To these women that were just held here waiting?"

Dean shrugs, "All of it.. and right over there around the wall of the stairs." He points and walks you guys over, "He had the women who, in the words of what I read and was told, couldn't please him like he wanted, tortured for hours on hours I guess."

"What did they do with the bodies? Do you know if they buried them or.." Sam asks and Dean shifts around slightly, "I just got a chill, but um.."

"Wait you just got a chill?" Colby steps forward, "It doesn't feel any different to me so that's creepy."

Dean chuckles, "Yeah, so anyway.. it was rumored they tried to cremate them theirselves, but I don't think it worked out, but when we were trying to clear some stuff out around the house, there was a well that was discovered and it had human bones in it, but no one really knows what happened to them they just vanished one day and no one asked questions."

"So there is a lot of pent up negative energy surrounding this manor." One of the guys says, but you're not focused on who. You shake your head, "Some just want to be free." You look at Sam and Colby, "Something is keeping them here and I think I know who it is."

"Oh god." Sam yells and jumps forward, spinning around really quick, "Something just grabbed my shoulder, swear to god."

"You good, man?" Colby walks up to him, and Sam nods, "Yes, yes. That just scared the shit out of me. Like I was just standing here and it felt like someone did this to me. But lightly." He demonstrates by grabbing Colby's shoulder.

"That may happen a lot more when we leave." Dean says and motions with his light to go back up.

Once you make it back outside, he turns towards the house, "Just keep reminding them why you are here and that you're the ones in control."

"Will that actually work?" Sam looks at Dean and he nods, "It'll definitely work for him." He points to Colby and you smile as you remember someone else telling Colby he's intimidating.

"I have been told that I intimidate spirits so.. that's my house now." He makes his voice strained, "No, im kidding. He laughs and Dean shakes his head, "No that's exactly it. Show you're in control and you should be fine."

"Should be, that's not too selling there, Dean." Sam says and looks at Colby. He shrugs, "I mean, it works for me."

"Well, good luck and if you're still here, I'll see you in the morning."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

After getting the equipment from the car and talking for a little bit, it's almost dark so the three of you agree it's best to just start since you were already getting so much activity already.

"You good?" Colby asks as he sets up some stuff, getting it ready. You look up, "Yeah." You let out breathy laugh, "I'm nervous, but otherwise good."

"Oh shit." You hear Sam yell from outside, "No fucking way." You and Colby look at each other and run out, "What? what?" Colby asks going over to him.

You follow behind and he points, "I think I saw what you saw earlier, y/n. I turned the camera on but by the time I looked up, it was gone."

"Yeah, like it only wants you to see it, if it lets you." You run your hands over your face, "Okay so I think we should try and get something before we're basically chased out of here."

You come to regret saying those words, later on.

"Okay, yeah. So the living room area? See if we can get in touch with someone who worked here?" Colby says and Sam nods, "Let's do it."

As you walk up to the door, you turn around and look at Colby, "Did you just whistle?" He shakes his head, "No that wasn't me, was it you?" He points to Sam and he shakes his head, "No."

"There's a light whistle, but it sounded like it was right behind me." You close your eyes and shake your head, "Oh god."

"It's alright. Come on." Colby leads you into the living area and you stand over to the coffee table and set down the EMF, waiting for Sam and Colby to come in.

"Okay. Ill put a flashlight on the mantle here and-"

A loud knock cuts Sam off, "Did you hear that?" His eyes move between you and Colby and you both nod. He lets out a sigh, "Alright."

He starts rolling, "So we are here in the living room area of the Hellriegel Manor, and we've been hearing knocks.."

"A bottle rolled down the basement stairs, this place is absolutely insane already, but now we're here and we're going to start by asking some simple questions." Colby takes the camera from Sam so he can lay a flashlight on the mantle like he said, "We have just a regular flashlight here and then we have the EMF over there by y/n."

You switch it on and move away from it, "Do you want me to start?"

Immediately both the flashlight and the EMF lights up green. Sam and Colby both yell out, "Oh fuck dude."

You freeze, "Um. Okay. My name is y/n. I come with peace and just wanting to find out the truth about what happened here. Is there just one of you talking to us right now?"

You wait a few moments and as soon as you look at Colby it lights up red and the flashlight switches off.

Your eyes go wide as you look at Sam. His eyes search the floor as he thinks, "My name is Sam, I too come with peace, I just want to ask, are you trapped here?"

Colby moves the camera from the EMF to the flashlight, "Y/n. Repeat what Sam asked."

"Are you trapped here?" You ask and it's an immediate green light, no flashlight, "Am I speaking to one person now?"

Red light. Flashlight turns on making all of you gasp and yell. Colby shakes his head, "Dean was right, they must be drawn to her more than us."

Switches green and the flashlight stays on.

"That wasn't even a ques-" something falling from a shelf makes you jump and you bolt in between them, "Oh Jesus Christ."

"I'm Colby. I also come with peace. Was that you that just knocked that stuff over?" A few moments go by and nothing.

"If that was you, can you do it again, please?" You grip Colby's arm, "the hairs on the back of my neck just stood up." He looks down at you, "really?" You nod and Sam brings his hand up behind you, "It's literally only cold right here."

Suddenly you're pushed away from Colby, not hard, but enough to make you lean back.

"Did you just get pushed?" Colby asks, "You pulled me with you tha-"

What sounds like empty tin cans, hit the floor and roll, stopping in the entry way of the living room.

"Thank you." You say, "Am I speaking to the original owner of this house?" You let go of Colby and walk over to the doorway.

"Y/n, stay close please. This house is too un-" Colby gets cut off by the EMF lighting up red.

"Are you saying no to y/n's question?" Sam asks quickly and it flashes red. Your eyes go wide and you make your way back over to them, "Do you want me to stay close to Sam and Colby?"

Flashes red and the flash light turns on.

"Fuck me." You lay a hand on your face and the emf lifts up green.

"No." Colby says almost immediately, "You can't have her."

Flashes green and the flash light stays on.

You look at them, "I have to ask if it's him."

Flashes green again and the flash light goes off.

"Dude this is fucking wild, oh my god." Sam runs a hand through his hair, "Are you okay?" He looks at you and you nod, "Yeah, I'm good."

"I have a very important question for you." You move over and sit in the one chair, "Am I speaking to Callum Hellreigel?"

Lights up red and you feel kind of relieved until you see a shadow move on the stairs, "Fuck, the stairs. Something just went up."

"Are you going upstairs?" Colby asks and waits patiently. The EMF goes off and it's red, "Are you one of the women who were lured here and promised money?"

Lights up green.

"Is anyone else with you?" Sam asks and rests his hand against his chin.

Lights up green.

Just as Colby is getting ready to ask something you stand up, "Something just.." you point up and shake your head, "I just heard come on. Like something said come on."

"Is that you Callum? Are you trying to lure y/n up stairs?" Colby hands the camera back to Sam and looks over at you, no response.

"Okay, so they definitely move around." Sam sighs, "Fuck man. Y/n. How are you feeling?" You look over at them slowly, "Oh I'm great." You stand up, "Maybe we should move.."

"Where to next?" Sam asks and you walk over to them, "Upstairs. I don't think he killed himself."

They're both taken aback by what you said and Colby shakes his head, "Do you feel something towards that?"

You nod, "I have this.. uneasy feeling in my stomach and I get chills thinking about it. I don't think he shot himself."

The EMF reader lights up green and you jump slightly, "Fuck." Sam looks around, "Did you kill your self Callum?"

Nothing.

Colby repeats Sam's question exactly, nothing.

They both look at you, along with the camera and you take a deep breath and shake your head, "get the spirit box."

Sam stops recording, "That's a good idea. Where do you want to set up?"

Colby walks over to you and lays his hands on your arms, "You good to keep going?" You nod, "Yeah I need to find out what happened, I'm nosey." You laugh slightly and lean around to look at Sam, "Maybe top of the steps?"

He nods and you grab the equipment and look at the steps. Your eyes move up and down, getting a weird feeling about it, "Wait." You stop Sam and point to the floor at the bottom of the steps.

Colby starts recording and Sam sets it down, "let me just turn it on." He turns it on and a soft white noise fills the area.

Sam motions to you and you bite your lip, debating on which question to ask.

".. Up .."

"Yo, no." Sam covers his mouth and Colby laughs nervously, "No fucking way."

"Do you want us to go up the stairs?" You ask and chew on your nail.

".. Wall .. name.."

"Are you asking about the names on the wall in the room where the women were held?" Colby asks, "Did you whisper Izzie to y/n when we went in there earlier?"

A soft, 'y/n' is whispered behind you and you let out a slight yell, "Fuck, no. Someone just said my name."

"..Yes.."

"Callum was that you?" You close your eyes and shake it, letting out quiet, high toned "oh shit."

"Bed."

"Do you want us to go to the bedroom? Callum's room?" Colby asks rubbing his eyebrow and pulls you to him when you all clear as day hear,

"Just... her.."

"You can't have her." Sam says looking around, "You can't have any one anymore, do you hear me?"

".. Blood.. shed .."

"Doesn't mean blood shed, like bleeding or?" Colby asks Sam and he shakes his head, "I don't know, man."

"So scared."

"I know you're scared." You say and nothing else comes through.

"Why do you want y/n?" Colby asks moving the camera around, "Are you scared of us? I promise we mean no harm to any of you."

".. Pretty... girl .."

"do you guys feel okay?" You fan yourself, "I just got really hot all of a sudden." Colby hands the camera to Sam and feels your forehead, "You feel cold to me."

You're suddenly pushed backwards away from Colby's touch, "Fuck." He says pulling you over to Sam. He turns from recording the stairs, "What happened? What?"

Colby sighs, "She just got pushed again, dude."

"Maybe we should just go up." You close your eyes as Colby instantly disagrees, "Mm. No."

Sam cuts the camera off, "Colby. If she thinks she can-"

"We don't know what we're dealing with here, Sam. I'm not going to send her into a room alone." Colby argues.

".. Stop .."

"Stop what?" You ask and Sam turns the camera on, "So.. Colby felt y/n's head because she said she was hot and when he did that, y/n got pu-" a loud thud is heard from up stairs and Sam quickly turns the spirit box off and turns the camera to you guys, "Did you hear that?"

You nod, "Almost like.. a body falling onto the floor."

"That's what I was thinking." Coby says nodding.

Sam waits a few seconds more before picking up where he left off in a whisper, "So basically, whatever is here doesn't like us being close to y/n."

"Dean did say that she might be the target for tonight, just because of all the history with this place." Colby says.

"I think we should just do it because it's either his room or the basement and I'll tell you right now I'm not ready to go back down there yet." You chew on your cheek, "So let's just go up there and hit those rooms up there."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

There was a sudden decrease in activity in the other rooms but it quickly picked up when you moved back towards the bedroom.

"I think we should put the REM pod where Dean said he was shot." Sam suggests and you nod, "Yeah. That's good."

You have this feelings that something is watching you, and no it's not just Colby.

"Sam." Colby says, "You don't think.."

Sam stands up after checking the pod, "What?" Colby nods towards me, lowing his voice, "You don't think he's.. targeting her because of me do you?"

Sam glances at you and shrugs, "So you're admitting to liking her then?"

Colby sighs, "Yes, Sam. I'm admitting to it finally." He smiles but shakes his head, "That's not the point, how are we going to do this without any danger coming to her?"

"Why don't we just ask him?" You step forward, "You can be right outside the door."

Colby shakes his head, "No."

There's a loud bang and you jump, "Colbs. I got this. If anything happens, you'll be right outside." Sam starts rolling the camera, "So we are now in the room where Callum supposedly shot himself and y/n has decided to lay in Callum Hellreigel's very own bed. Alone."

Sam turns the camera to you, "How are you feeling?" You take a deep breath, "it is what it is right?" You shrug, but Colby didn't like that answer.

"I'll be fine." You hold two thumbs up and Sam points the camera at Colby, "Wanna tell them what we're doing?"

Colby clears his throat as he holds up the EMF, "We are going to set up y/n with the EMF as well, and she'll ask yes or no questions and hopefully we can get some answers.."

"Then we'll come back in after a little while and set up the spirit box, maybe catch something on that? I don't know how you guys feel about that.." Sam trails off and you nod, "Sounds good."

Colby's whole demeanor changed since you said you'll stay in the room by yourself. You keep looking at him, and he looks at you, but he has worry in his eyes.

"Alight so we're just going to put this in the corner here.." Sam says as he sets up the camera on the one stand, angled towards the bed and window.

Colby walks up to you, cupping your cheeks, "Anything, and I mean anything happens, yell, scream and we'll be here."

You nod, laying a hand on his, "I can handle this." You jump and Sam yells as something falls outside of the room, "What the fuck. That sounded like something massive."

"Shit." Colby says taking his hands away, "Sorry. Sorry." He holds his hands up and steps back from you. Your eyes move around the room as you make your way over to the bed, sitting criss cross, "See you soon."

"You're sure?" Sam asks one last time. You take a deep breath, "Yes." Colby's eyes are on you until Sam fully shuts the door, leaving you in the darkened silence, alone.

"Callum Hellriegel." You call out, "If you're here, can you go over and touch that little box that's on the floor for me?"

The red light flashes, indicating no on the EMF.

"Am I talking to someone else?" Your eyes scan around the room, taking slow deep breathes as you try to get used to the dark, no answer, "I should’ve stayed home." You joke quietly to yourself,  "Is this where you wanted me?"

Instant green light.

You chew on your cheek as a chill washes over your body, "Fuck." You rest your hands on your head, "Did you kill all those women, Callum?"

Instant green light and the REM pod goes off.

"Did you kill them because they couldn't please you?" You rest your hand on your cheek and jump slightly when the EMF goes red.

"Did you kill them beca-" The EMF flashes red over and over again, "Stop!" You say loudly and it's soon followed by a loud bang on the window.

"Holy fuck." You sigh and place a hand on your chest, "Do you want us to bring the spirit box in so you can talk?"

Instant green light.

"Callum Hellreigel.. did you kill your self?" Your eyes move from the REM pod to the EMF, waiting for something, "Did someone else do it?"

Instant green light.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Okay, okay. Was it someone who worked for you?"

Instant red light.

"Was it one of the prostitutes?"

Instant green light.

"Is there anyone else here?"

Instant green light and you suddenly feel like you're being choked. You try to yell out as loud as you can, "C-Colby!" You feel the pressure on your neck vanish and you start coughing as soon as the boys bust through the door.

Colby is right next to you, "What? What? Y/n. Talk to me."

You're gasping for air still as you try to comprehend what just happened.

Sam brings the camera over, almost dropping it when he sees the finger marks on your neck.

"Holy fuck- Colby." Sam moves your hair to show the camera, "Oh my god. Are you okay? Oh fuck."

Colby's eyes are glued to your neck, "Can you breathe? Are you okay?"

"I-I.." you clear your throat, rubbing your hand over the prints, "I believe.. I was talking to Callum, and then I asked if anyone else was here and it went to yes and then i just suddenly felt like I was being choked."

"What the fuck, okay let's just get out of this room, I don't.." Sam sighs and shakes his head, "I don't like this."

As you're gathering the equipment and getting ready to walk out, you're pushed into Sam causing him to stumble a step forward, "That wasn't me." You say quickly as he turns around, "are you okay?"

Colby shuts the door with a slam and sighs, "This is fucking insane.. I can't believe this happened."

"Did you hear that?" You look down the steps, "Something just moved into the living room."

Sam points the camera, the light shining down and there's nothing there, "What the fuck, what the fuck?!"

"Shh. Shh." You shush Sam and look around, "I thought I heard whispering."

Colby lays a hand on your back, "Let's go outside, talk about what happened and then we can figure out what we wanna do."

Colby was just worried about getting you out without anymore damage.

You make your way outside, camera still rolling, bending down to the ground, "Oh my god."

"Okay. So y/n.. she got attacked basically and we're trying to figure out why. She's okay. She's okay.. it's just.. " Sam keeps the camera off of you until you stand back up, "Fuck."

"So." You walk over to them, using your hand to hide your neck from the camera, "As soon as you guys left, it was.. weird, it was fucking weird." You laugh slightly and shake your head, "I asked if it was him. Said no. Then I asked if it was someone else, no answer and then I asked if I was where they wanted me and that was an instant green light."

"What if.. what if it's not Callum?" Colby looks between you and Sam and Sam gasps, "One of the women?"

You hold your hand up, "Oh just wait. So then I asked if he killed all those women. Instant green light. I then asked if it was because they couldn't please him and it said no."

"Wait, y/n.. Did you tell stop at one point?" Sam asks and you nod, "The red light kept flashing over and over, so then I told it to stop and then it sounded like something hit the window. Hard. It was loud."

"Wait what?" Colby looks to Sam, "Did you hear anything?" Sam shakes his head, "I thought I heard her yell stop but it was much quieter than she says she yelled."

"Do you think.. wait.." Colby looks at you, "Izzie. That's what was whispered to you right?" You nod and he shrugs, "What if she killed him?"

"That's actually something that very well could have happened.. He favorited her maybe and she developed this jealously? Oh my god, the story just keeps unraveling." Sam points the camera back to you and you continue, "I asked if they wanted us to bring the sprit box in and it said yes. It also said yes to me asking if someone else killed him.." you look between them, "..and to if it was one of the prositutes."

"Yo, no. Are you fucking serious!?" Sam's mouth drops, "Is said yes to that?"

You nod, "Sure did."

"Izzie probably is intimidated by you." Colby says, "I think we have this all wrong." You run your hand over your head, "Mhm. But it was like not even a second after the light went green I felt this pressure around my neck and I couldn't move. I wasn't even sure if you guys heard me calling."

"I heard you scream Colby, a lot louder than when you yelled stop." Sam shakes his head, "If I would have known we would have came in.." he looks at Colby, "They said about the spirit box.."

Colby shakes his head and looks at you as Sam moves the camera onto you, "I think we should just take a break, give them time to settle, if they will." You suggest and Sam nods, "That's a good idea."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

The whole time you guys took a break, Colby hasn't left your side as you guys discussed and agreed on what you were doing.

He found himself glancing at your neck every so often, wondering if him putting up more of a fight would have kept you safe.

"Colby.." you whisper, "Colbs." You finally get his attention, "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Not your fault. I chose to go in there." You lay a hand on his cheek, "Okay?"

He nods, not really convincing you but you go with it as Sam walks over, "Are you ready?" He looks at you and you nod, taking Colby's hand in yours, "Yeah. We're ready."

"Anything else happens and I'm throwing you over my shoulder and taking you out of there myself." He whispers low into your ear as sam walks towards the house.

You smile slightly, "Don't threaten me with a good time."

He keeps his arm around you until you reach the front door. He walks in but you stop, staring up the steps, "Sam. Don't move."

Colby looks between you, Sam and the steps, "What?" He whispers quietly and you point slightly, "There's a woman.." you raise your voice, "Izzie?"

The figure you see turns from the top of the steps and goes into Callum's room.

"We need to do the spirit box."

You make your way up to the room and Colby walks in first. Then you, then Sam. The REM pod gets put on the floor, and turned on. Sam backs away from it and you take a deep breath.

"We mean no harm to anyone that is here." You say and look around, "Izzie. If you were the one that choked me, can you touch that box on the floor over by the window?"

You close your eyes as soon as it lights up.

"Fucking shit dude." Sam says pointing the camera to you. You open your eyes and step towards the bed, "Did you get jealous of the other girls? Make that light up for me if you were."

You look over at Sam and Colby, who are whispering stuff to each other, and back to the pod as it lights up.

"one more time if you want us to turn on the spirit box." You run a hand through your hair and turn back to them as it lights up a few times in a row.

Colby takes the camera and Sam grabs the box, walking over and setting it on the window sill, "You will be able to talk to us using this box here."

Colby moves over closer to you and Sam and as soon as Sam flips it on, "Why did you choke y/n?"

".. doesn't... belong.."

"She doesn't belong here in general or doesn't belong to Callum?" Colby continues and you chew on your nail as you wait patiently.

".. not.. his..."

"Can you tell us who isn't his? Are you talking about Callum?" Sam interjects, "Y/n doesn't belong to Callum."

"..Mine.. my doing.."

"Are we talking to Izzie or Callum?" You rest your hand on your cheek, "Can you please tell me who we are talking to?"

".. Colby.." 

"What the hell?" Colby groans and laughs slightly, "Can you tell me who I'm talking to?" He asks giving the camera to Sam, "I'm right here."

".. not.. yours.."

You look at Sam then go to Colby.

"..out.. out.. Izzie.."

"Did you kill Callum, Izzie?" Sam asks, "Was it you who shot him in front of the window?"

" .. y/n.. stay .."

You let out a quick scream as something grabs your arm, "No. I'm not staying. You cannot have me." The same bang on the window that happened while you were alone, happens again.

Colby aims the camera to the window, "fuck, what was th-"

".. keep her safe .."

"We are keeping her safe." Colby says as he pulls you in between him and Sam, "Do not touch her. Do not touch us."

You look around, "Shit." You jump, "Izzie. Leave."

" .. Sam .. "

"Okay no. No that's.. no.." Sam laughs nervously, "Do you want us to leave?"

" .. Colby ... and Sam .. "

"Alright we're done." Colby hands the camera back to Sam and turns off the box, "I don't think Callum is a demon. I think Izzie has some jealousy to figure out and she won't be doing that with you." He looks at you and you nod, "Fine."

"That was fucking insane, dude. What the actual fuck was that?" Sam shakes his head, unable to comprehend what just happened.

You hear another whisper as you turn towards the door, "did you hear that?" Sam and Colby stop talking and go quiet as they listen.

You turn towards them, "Please don't go is what I just heard.."

"We're going." Sam and Colby say in unison which makes you all kinda laugh, fear still in overdrive. You spin in a slow circle, "Whatever is in this room, this house, who ever you are, you cannot follow us out of this house. You cannot follow us home. You can not come with us."

As Sam bends down to pick up the REM, Colby lays his hand on your back but you wince and gasp, "What the fuck?"

"What?" Colby asks looking over you, "What happened?"

"Lift my shirt." You turn back around and Sam comes over with the camera, the light on top shining onto your back.

Colby slides your shirt up, "We're done. That's two fucking scratches l, Sam." He looks at Sam and you turn around, "Two?!"

As soon as you stand all the way up, you get dizzy and stumble back slightly into the wall. You suddenly feel like your emotions aren't yours anymore and you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

Flashes of a woman in a long dress and a man undressing her appear in your mind. 

She's screaming. Crying. There's two more guys, but they're standing in the corners, watching it happen.

You feel like you're seeing someone else's vision until everything goes black and you start to regain the imagine of Colby and Sam standing in front of you.

"Y/n.. hey." You hear Colby say as he shakes you gently, "Y/n. Hey where'd you go?"

Your head snaps up to him, "What?" You look around, shaking your head, "I don't.. what just.."

"You weren't you." Sam says, "You went back into the wall and then you were in a stare, Colby tried for like two minutes to get you to look up."

"We.." your chest rises and falls quickly, "I'm so scared right now." A loud thump on the wall behind you rattles the room and you high tail it out of there.

Down the steps and out the door as Sam and Colby follow you.

"Y/n. Hey, hey wait." Colby yells, "Y/n." He walks up to you and takes you into his arms. You freak out for a second until you realize it's him and you let your body fall into his.

"Is she okay?" Sam asks running up, "What the fuck just happened?"

Colby shrugs, "I have no idea. But I see why they don't just let anyone in here."

He looks down at you, arms still tightly around you, "Hey. You're okay. I got you." You tilt your head up, slowly looking back at the building.

You let out a slight laugh, "Did I.. just.. did I just get possessed or something?"

They're both looking at you worried, "I saw a woman.. screaming as a man was taking off her dress and two other men in the corners were watching.. I don't.. was that.."

"We don't have an answer for that, but what I do know is that we're getting far from this place as possible." Colby lets you go as you stand up straight.

You look at Colby and point your finger at him, "Remember what I said to you last night, about us probably having been through worse?"

Colby nods as his hands move up and down your arm.

"Well, this is worse." You laugh anxiously, tears welling up into your eyes again, "What the fuck was that?"

"We're going home. It's okay." Colby wraps his arms around you, "Sam, can you drive home?" Sam yells out a quick 'yeah' as he packs the trunk back up.

"Come on. We're going home."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Thinking of maybe doing a part 2? Not sure yet, maybe like the aftermath of the Hellriegel Manor?

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[facetsofthecloset]

32 pages...??? tentatively?! if i don't make more layout changes?!

i believe i would like to be dead. or perhaps to have this comic outline done

[solarbird]

“Are we willing to fight for it?” Crowd: “YES!” “And when we fight?” Crowd: “WE WIN!” — Kamala Harris to campaign staff, 22 July 2024

That’s right, the “if we fight we win” isn’t from me this time. It’s from Kamala Harris, and I am kind of in shock.

One of the things I most feared about the “replace Biden” movement was the donor class yanking the party right again and hand-picking an all old white dudes ticket and absolutely tanking every chance we had of winning this election and stopping Trumpism for good.

Politically active Black people I know personally were expecting that to happen, because that kind of shit has happened so many times. And when political Black people talk about this shit in the Democratic party, you better listen, because their history on this stuff is solid.

I mean, that’s not the only reason I feared it, I have plenty of my own experience watching this same shit go down. But it’s a big one.

That – and all the many money and organisational problems I have described which would result – was about the biggest problem I had with replacing Biden. Particularly once it was clear the money people were moving on it so hard. I was so sure they’d do again what they’ve always done, slide the top of the ticket back to the “right,” repudiating so much economic and climate good the Biden administration has done, trying to haul us back to Clintinesque neoliberalism which would fail more spectacularly than ever before.

That’s also why I was an instant loud and dare I say it strident pivot to Harris when Biden actually did drop out – it was all to stop that money move from happening. That’s why I was out Sunday as loud and long as I could be, shouting, “WHITE PEOPLE, GET HER THE NOMINATION. FUCKING DO IT” while various usual clowns and dilettantes wibbled on demanding an ‘open convention’ and nattering about a ‘flash primary’ and going off about ‘not voting for a cop’ and the wretched spectre of Joe Manchin dipped a skeletal toe into the race.

None of that was an option. It’s still not an option. It had to be her; it has to be her.

And that speech I’m quoting shows why.

I’m still stunned. I never expected to hear a presidential candidate echoing my own words back at me.

I mean, Biden understands exactly what we’re dealing with – fash propaganda aside, he really is still all there, and his words show it. But he’s not able to frame it that way, it’s just not who he is. To see a candidate frame it like this… exactly like this… that’s something new. And I did not expect it.

I am so rarely truly surprised in politics. It has been a while since I have been surprised at all.

This has surprised me.

Another political writer I follow described her as the first Generation X candidate, and maybe that’s why. Technically she’s like two months too early for GenX, she’s in that transition zone, but y’know what? If she wants to grab that label I am fine with that, because those are some words from someone who fucking gets it. From someone who has figured it the fuck out.

Go watch her speech, particularly, oh… the “I know Donald Trump’s type” section starts around 19 minutes in, but the part after that, that’s where it really starts to matter, at 21:45. Here, I timestamped for you, hopefully it’ll work where you’re reading this and if not, just skip ahead:

I’ve been saying – this is the turning point year. The peak year of a fascist movement weakened but not destroyed by self-inflicted wounds of COVID, the last year of the backstop, the year after which we can start to win.

But still I expected that this year that we’d still have to fight under the old rules, playing the old games of the Baby Boom, even if I knew that one final year of holding would shatter it all, and let us make and play by new rules in ’26 and ’28.

Hence, one more year of the bulwark, one more year of the hold.

Until two days ago, on Sunday, July 21st, 2024, that was exactly how it was playing out.

Then a political miracle happened. Biden left the race and the donor class didn’t get their push to the right, and some of them apparently didn’t even want it because they dropped money again the moment Harris announced her campaign.

I guess maybe those rich bastards finally learned a thing or two about not throwing elections.

And that means…

…maybe we don’t have to wait ’til ’26 and ’28.

Maybe it’s not one last hold after all, before the spring.

Maybe the rules can change now.

Maybe Millennials and Zoomers are going to seize the moment this year.

If they do – if you do, if you go in, if you mean it, if you don’t waver and trip yourself up in details and personality and propaganda and purity tests and and and all of it…

…then…

…this year won’t just be a hold.

This year will be the fucking landslide we have needed for eight years now to wipe Trumpism and its like off the map for a century.

Wanna make that happen?

France and England have shown us the way, and christ, I want to make that happen.

How about you? You up for it? You ready to do the work?

Let’s go, then. Everybody.

All in.

104 days remain.

[fernandopiastri28]

tags: f2 alpine oscar x mark webber's daughter, all pics from pinterest

warnings: blood, partial self inflicted pain, bad father-daughter relationship, angst angst angst in this chapter + fluff at the end

Anyone but webber - Oscar Piastri

Rule 8: Don’t bleed for someone who never bandaged your wounds.

The next morning begins painfully with an eardrum-crushing ringtone blaring far too close to her head. Her whole body aches, her head fuzzy and vision splodgy as she opens her eyes to light bleeding through the curtains. Her phone buzzes itself off her bedside table, now vibrating against the floor—just out of reach when her arm hangs down the side off the bed. 

It forces her to try and wake up somewhat, properly get out of bed and answer whoever is ringing her at this obscene hour of the morning. She squints at the caller ID, reaching around aimlessly for her glasses simply because her contacts are too far away right now. 

Luckily for her though, Siri decides to read out and announce the message. 

Incoming call from Mark (Dad)

Oh. 

She rubs her face—maybe slightly too rough and nearly certain to leave weird dry-red marks, and swipes to answer the call. She puts her phone to her ear, finally finding her glasses to shove onto her face. “Hello?” Her voice is gravelly from sleep, barely a croak.

“Did I wake you?” Straight from the get go there is no sort of greeting, no apologiosing for waking her up at barely six in the morning, absolutely fuck all.

“Yeah.” She forces herself upright and coughs into her fist, clearly her throat. Someone, or maybe more, is talking right next to Mark about as loud as they possibly can. Every second word they say gets caught by Mark’s microphone, slipping in and out of their conversation. “Do you need something?”

She knows the answer to that already, Mark wouldn’t be calling if he didn’t.

Cutting across his staticky voice is the sound of papers being rustled, “Uh, yeah. I need you to go up to my office and grab the orange folder ontop of my printer, scan each page, and email them to me.” He pauses for a moment, a few actually. Part of her is hopeful for him to add a ‘Please’, or a ‘If you can’ onto the end, but that’s like expecting him to start speaking Russian.

It’s not gonna happen.

“Or do you need me to ask Oscar to come over and do it instead?”

Objectively, that’s much better than her getting a half assed attempt of him showing her any sense of manners. If he organises Oscar to come over to help with the folder situation, then if somehow he finds out that Oscar was here while he was away, they’ll have an excuse for it.

“Yeah, I think that would be a good idea.” She chews at the corner of her nails, standing up to start getting ready for her day, and date most importantly, even though she’s got hours until Oscar arrives. “I can text him, I think I have his number.”

Think, does—what’s the difference anyways?

“Great.” Luckily he doesn’t question why she would have his number, given that they have near to no sense of a relationship whatsoever beyond speaking a few words to eachother when she’s caught off guard that he just happens to be at her house. 

Well, Mark’s never been particularly observant or inquisitive when it comes to anything involving her. “Can you text him sometime soon? It’s quite urgent.” 

She places her phone on the edge of her bathroom sink, leaning over said sink to struggle with putting in her contacts, “Uh huh, yeah, will do.” Her voice is strained, her concentration far more on her morning routine then helping her dad with sending photos. “If that’s all, I’ve got to go get ready for today. Talk soon,” 

Just as she’s about to hang up, her dad manages to get in three words sideways, “Alright, love you.” 

She’s already pressed end call before those last two words properly set in. 

Love you.

She can’t remember the last time she heard that from him. It doesn’t sound right coming out of his mouth, said in his voice. Maybe it more so feels like it should be directed towards someone else—Oscar, obviously comes to mind first. Her two fingers feel heavy on her cracked phone screen, now lingering over the lower half of her lockscreen instead of the red cross during a call. 

The grim taste of bile flods her mouth, a tight clench in her stomach accompanying it. She can’t even hear two simple, ordinary words, that most kids hear from their parents multiple times a day without wanting to emptying her stomach of anything possibly left in it. 

Part of her struggles to even attempt to just accept those words and move on. Take them how they are and keep going on with her day. She can’t, no amount of convincing herself that her relationship with Mark just is how it is helps feel better. Love you—how dare he. How dare he unravel all of the work she’s put in over these past weeks, months even.

Years, if she’s honest.

She blinks her contacts in, the stupid saline solution momentarily blinding her before allowing her to see everything too clearly. She immediately considers taking them out again and tossing them in the bin, forcing herself into a word where everything is just slightly blurry—-where colours bleed into eachother, forms mould into unrecognisable shapes, and absolutely nothing makes sense.

Her father makes no sense anyways, maybe it would feel more normal if everything was that confusing. 

She swallows down the bile rising in her throat, pressing the back of her hand to her lips as if that’ll stop the queasiness from spilling out. She grabs her toothbrush, slightly too aggressively that it sends the ceramic cup it rests in flying to the floor, smashing as it collides with the porcelain. 

“Fuck,” Tears of frustration pour down her cheeks as she kneels down, scooping up the pieces. She holds the sharp and jagged edged pieces tightly in her hands. She hates this feeling of a lack of control over her feelings, when she can’t hold it all in and just be brave. 

 It’s stupid—she knows it’s stupid—but there’s no escaping the feeling that Mark’s words weren’t really meant for her. He’s never been the type to throw around affection, atleast not when it’s directed toward her. She can’t remember a compliment he’s given her, a time he’s told her he’s proud of her, when he’s shown a genuine interest in her or anything she’s doing. She sees Oscar get all of that and more though, he gets every bit of affection from her dad that she’s spend her whole life chasing.

At first, she thought he was just closed off. Her mum left the house one day and never returned. As far as she knew, her mother never looked back, not for her or for her dad. At that point in time, she was too young to fully comprehend what had really happened. She was three at the time, and had always been a ‘daddy’s girl’ more than she’d ever been so connected to her mother.

So when her mum left, she was too young to even feel too sad about it. Mark on the other hand lost his girlfriend, the mother of his child. He was only 24 when she was born, and he was at the very beginning of his F1 career. When her mum left, he became her sole care taker, and there was no way he’d be able to take care of a toddler full time at tha point when he had to be travelling most weekends to go racing.

As a result, she spent the majority of her childhood living with friends and family of her dad, knowing her father solely from interviews on the tv screen and the few times he could manage to come back and visit. Her earliest memories of him are distant, fragmented—moments snatched in between races or fleeting phone calls filled with too much static and not enough warmth. 

It was everything to her nonetheless. She never had an overwhelming interest in cartoons or any type of kids shows, more often opting for rewatching the same 3 minute interview over and over, wrapped up in a princess blanket on the couch trying to reach out for him. 

Even when he came home, he was different then he was in the home videos she’d watch from years before she could properly understand what was ever going on. She just knew that unlike in those grainy homevideos of their family of three—there were no bedtime stories, no trips to the park, no beach trips. Just a man who showed up, exhausted, distracted, and buried in paperwork or phone calls. 

That’s not to say he was always switched off. When he would return home after a flight into Australia, if it was night, he would come into her room and tuck her in, leave her with a kiss on the forehead, regardless if she was asleep or not. Sometimes, she would intentionally stay up all night when she knew he’d be back in a few hours, just to be awake and see him for those brief few seconds he’d come into her room for.

Each time he’d be home for was fleeting and not even on the cusp of enough time. Before she could even begin to feel like her dad was home again, he’d leave again and she’d find herself back at someone else’s house, some other relative’s care. 

It was the only life she’d ever known, to be fair, and she knew of nothing other than it. She loved her dad, she loved watching him go racing. She loved talking about her dad in show and tell when she’d bring in an old helmet of his or a trophy. He was her greatest pride and joy, all she could ever dream to be.

Once she was old enough to understand why her dad was so distant unlike all the other dads of her friends at school, she formed a belief—a belief that as soon as he retired from F1, he’d be her dad again. A father first, a racecar driver second. 

At twelve years old, she finally got her wish. He announced his retirement from formula one to the world in 2013, and she found out at the same time as the rest of the world did. He came straight home to Australia the night of the Brazilian Grand Prix—the final race of his career—-and despite it being past one am when she heard the front door open and shut, she was still awake.

Her door opened and so did her eyes—-only very slightly though, maintaining a squint so it looked like she was aalseep. She didn’t want to get in trouble for staying up hours past her bedtime. She waited for the kiss, for him to tuck the corners of her sheets so tight into her bedframe that she’d have to use all the force of her arms to squirm out of, for him to whisper goodnight to her—-but it never came.

He just stood in her doorframe, his figure outlined by the dim hallway light behind him. He waited for about a minute at most, not making a noise except for the slight hum of his breathing, then he shut the door, leaving her room back in complete darkness. 

That signalled the end of her dad, and the beginning of Mark. 

And even eight years on, she still feels cold when she thinks about that night. She thinks about trying to tuck herself in as tightly as he always did, but not managing to make it stay, and she remembers pressing the mouth of her favoueite teddy bear to her forehead—a brown bear wearing a blue racesuit, fittingly called Dad—to mimic her return night kiss.

She also remembers crying until the sun came back up, and going downstairs in the following morning to see the door of her dad’s office shut and locked, basically flaunting a ‘do not disturb under any circumstances’ sign. She knew better to go against that, knew that even though she was a kid who just wanted to see her dad—-she knew to be a rule listener, rules were more important then want. 

Those barriers never broke down, only putting more distance between them. She’d waited for the end of 2013 like it was going to be the year her world would forever change. She imagined retirement would bring them closer together, mend any strange drift that him racing around the world would’ve caused. She pictured breakfast together—plates of freshly made pancakes, stacked tall, sopping with maple syrup, and oozing melted chocolate—going on bike rides as the sun warms up the horizon, singing along to radio in the car ride to school, trips to the beach when the weather was warm enough and the waves were strong enough to surf.

Instead, she made pancakes out of a bottled mix—almost always burnt or undercooked. She taught herself to ride a bike, far later than other kids, embarrassingly. She’d clean up her cuts when she’d fall off her training-wheel-less bike, wincing at the burn of antiseptic out of the medicine cabinet. She’d hum along to whatever songs she had saved on her iPhone 4 on the walk to school, and once she was confident enough in her ability, while she bike ride to school. 

There weren’t any beach near enough for her to get to by herself at the age of twelve without an adult bringing her, so she decided she would buy a beach house once she was old enough and spend near to every day either swimming, surfing, or making sand castles.

The first time she can remember him sitting down to talk to her, or at least saying something of actual substance beyond something meaningless and tossed out without a second thought, was him sitting down across from her at the dinner table, and immediately saying he would be racing in WEC the following year. 

She didn’t know what WEC was, she didn’t really care to know anyways. She knew it meant he was going to be gone again, just when she thought she had him back for good this time around. 

“Okay.” She’d looked down at her plate, piled with sausages and roast vegetables, both getting cold from how long she’d been waiting for him to join her for dinner. 

Neither of them said anything more that night, and she didn’t wait for him to give her a hug goodnight—he didn’t deserve it, just like he’d decided she didn’t deserve to be tucked in anymore.

Even then, it wasn’t until years later when she’d found out that he’d actually signed the contract with Porsche in Endurance racing all the way back in june that she truly ever let herself feel the pain of the betrayal that night. He was never retiring, never actually coming back for her—he would always love racing more than he’d ever love his own daughter.

She still feels like that little kid, crying in her bed back in 2013 over not getting a kiss. This time, it’s over getting a ‘love you’. Two opposite sides of a coin—a kid not getting the same display of affection they do, and a nineteen year old getting once when she hasn’t in years. Even though she’d felt so betrayed and alienated even back then, she’d never stopped trying to gain his approval. She was always convinced that maybe if she just tried hard enough, if she could do everything right, if she was perfect, then he’d notice her. He’d finally see her, finally be proud. 

She thought that after so many years, she would’ve outgrown it—left behind that little girl who just waited for the day her favourite person in the world felt the same about her.

“Fuck!” It’s the only word that’s managed to leave her mouth since she ended the call. It’s the only word that can begin to come close to how she’s feeling, but even then, it hardly does. She wants to scream, to throw the rest of the broken pieces across the room and watch them shatter even further. Instead, her hands clench tighter, her skin punctured by the rough corners of ceramic. 

Blood trickles down her palms, mixing with the tears that have long dripped down onto the smashed glass. Oscar would think she’s pathetic of he saw her right now, at least she wishes he would. In reality, she knows that Oscar would clean up the mess of the broken cup and then gently sit her down on the edge of her bed instead of having her crouched over in her bathroom. He’d clean up the bloody tears and the cuts—bandaging her hands up so gently. He’d hold her close, wipe away her tears while he says all the right things to make her feel even just the slightest bit better.

She wishes Oscar could just stop being so perfect for a second, wishes he could have a single flaw that she could pick on and belittle him for, make her dad see that Oscar isn’t as amazing as he seems to be.

But he is, and so she can’t even blame her dad for picking Oscar over her—she would too.  

The thought of Oscar is what gets her off the floor in the end. She deposits of the shattered cup and washes her hand clean, still wincing like she did on all those failed attempts of riding a bike. She brushes her teeth, she dries her hands off so the bandages will stay on, and she gets dressed for the day. Her hands shake slightly while she does her makeup, and her bottom lip quivers as she spreads a layer of lipgloss across it. 

But she holds it together. Two words aren’t worth crying over. She’s not that little girl anymore. She’s her own person, she’s more then just Mark’s daughter. She has her own life, her own world that’s separate from her father—sort of. She has Oscar who she loves, regardless of his involvement in racing. She has dreams to travel the world, to get that beach house, to swim every day. She has plans to go to university next year and to finally get out of the house that’s caused her so much heartbreak. 

She can’t grow in the same environment that once destroyed her.

The time on her phone hits 8:50, and she looks her reflection in the eyes. She’s not a little girl. She’s not that little girl. She’s never going to be that little girl again. Until she forces a smile, and it’s the same one she’s had her whole life. 

When the doorbell rings, she takes one last look at herself in the mirror, dragging her fingers through her hair one last time, making sure it lays over her shoulders nicely. Even though the girl staring back at her is completely shattered inside, her exterior is near perfection—her foundation covers the redness of her face, any lingering tears look just like the areas where she applied highlighter, her bitten and swollen lips just look plump with the addition of lipgloss. The bandages on her hands are neat and completely hide the cuts.

If she just keeps herself together a little longer, maybe no one will notice any cracks beneath her surface.

With a deep breath, she heads downstairs and to the front door. After a few moments of gathering up the strength to face someone in her current state—even when its her boyfriend who she loves more than anything—she opens the door. Oscar stands there, a white t-shirt and pair of pale blue jeans. His hair is awfully messy, clearly having had nothing done to it whatsoever. His eyes light up when he sees her, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Hi, Osc”

“Hey, baby,” Her face cracks into a smile at the nickname, some of the awful tension finally loosening up. Luckily for her, he doesn’t seem to notice the way her hands are trembling or how glossy and red her eyes are—he’s as normal and warm as he always is.

“Breakfast?” He gestures outside, stepping aside for her. She gives him a small nod, stuffing her phone into the pocket of her darker wash jeans. “Hey, we matched,” He grins at her, getting a giggle out of her. He looks accomplished by that, just getting a small laugh out of his girlfriend. 

She hopes Oscar never feels at all like she feels right now, how she’s felt her whole life. Oscar deserves a life of pure and complete happiness, she believes that genuinely. “We did indeed,” She slips her fingers into intertwine with his. He shuts the door behind her, guiding her towards a cafe he’d found online that’s only a ten minute walk away. 

On the walk to the café, Oscar shoots off on a story from back in Monza about one of the team’s mechanics spilling a coffee on his race suit—an iced coffee luckily. Oscar right by her side paired with the bright sun, a pleasantly warm current temperature and the promise of croissants and doughnuts, she finds it hard to even be upset anymore.

They get a table for two outside, enough in the shade that there’s no painful glare as they try to look at eachother. The service is quick, their table quickly covered with a hot chocolate, a caramel latte, and far too many pastries and baked goods for only two people. Regardless, they dig in straight away, trading drinks and food every so often.

Time flies past them, their drinks grow cold and more food arrives to their table. She tears off a bit of a cinnamon roll and pops it into her mouth just as Oscar starts to talk. “I was thinking,” Oscar says. “Maybe we could drive down to the beach this weekend. Weather forecast is good, waves shouldn’t be too bad.”

The beach—the final, unfulfilled dream from the checklist. Back at twelve, she could manage to everything on her own that she wanted to do with her dad instead. She learned how to make pancakes, even if they were far from perfect. She rode bikes, though it took longer than it should have and resulted in a few too many grazed palms and scabbed knees. She sang along to the radio, filled the silence on her solitary walks instead of in the car. 

But the beach was always out of reach. She had no way to get there on her own, so she would just rely on the impossible hope that her dad would finally look up from his busy life and take her there, just like she’d always imagined they would every weekend. 

It’s not that she’s never been to a beach, of course. There were trips with friends or school excursions, moments that almost scratched the itch, but never quite hit the mark. The dream she had as a kid wasn’t just about the location—it was about being seen, being cared for, about sharing that simple and tender joy with someone who mattered. There was a kind of magic in the way she pictured it back then, in her childish daydreams: her and her dad running toward the water, splashing through the surf, him laughing in a way he never did at home.

The ‘someone’ who matters didn’t matter whether that was with her dad or just on her own. All she knew was that it couldn’t be someone else, either the two of them, or just her.

But with Oscar, everything is different. She doesn’t know how to put it into words, how to describe that Oscar isn’t like any other guy, how he’s just about the most importnant thing in the world to her.

Even the fact that without even knowing the weight behind it, he just offered that to her. Casually. Without hesitation. Without her needing to ask, or worse, beg. He doesn’t make it a whole big thing, doesn’t put her in the position of feeling guilty for wanting something simple, something that for once isn’t a compromise. 

“Yeah,” she smiles wide, nodding excitedly. Her voice is still soft though, probably incredibly adoring. “The beach sounds great.” Oscar smiles, content that he came up with an idea that she’s so taken with. To him, it’s no big deal, it’s just the beach. But to her, it is. It’s huge, it’s the final piece of her jigsaw. 

She can already imagine it so vividly—the two of them driving down the coast, windows down with the salty breeze whipping through her hair. She can feel the sun hot on her skin, hear the soft rush of the waves as they crash against the shore, can smell the heavy salt of the sea. 

It’s going to be the best weekend of her life, even better than she imagined it would be back when she was twelve.

y/n.webber

liked by lilymhe, zhouguanyu and 2,879 others

y/n.webber best kinda pick me up

user32 where's the top from?

-> y/n.webber na-kd!!

-> user32 thank u omg!

user17 those pastries omggg

-> y/n.webber they were literally to die for, so good 😙🤌

user21 i need a hair tut frrr

y/n.priv (private account)

liked by l.sarge, osc.priv, and 1 other

y/n.priv seen better days

l.sarge oscar cambailsm

-> osc.priv what word is that

-> l.sarge eating your own kind

-> geo.6arge3 pastry on pastry crime

-> l.sarge ????? who r u

-> l.sarge omg its george sorry im a big fan lol

bsf/n love u baby <3 take care of yourself :(

-> y/n.priv miss u sm </3

osc.priv ❤️🥰

last chapter, next chapter

oooofff, rough chapter. honestly, motivation has been nonexistent recently but honestly, writing this chapter felt so easy and enjoyable, it that makes any sense 🥲

anyways, fun beach times in the next chapter + more oscar centric, i promiseeee:)

taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party, @forza-charles, @sltwins, @sweetwh0re, @lucktales, @ellen3101, @nxlx96, @notantou, @cloud-55, @wisestarfishbouquet, @zupercoolgirl

[httplvki]

TW: reader harms themselves here, so be advised and talk to someone if you can if you are currently struggling with sh, i know what it’s like and still struggle with it. you are loved and your dad jake sully loves you too. (dad!jake sully x teen daughter!reader, hurt comfort, angsty)

eywa never chose you.

is what you thought

blessed to be a part of the sully family but still feeling like you don’t belong. all the roles being taken and stealing the spotlight from your parents. the perfect son, neteyam, the troublemaker but brave, lo’ak, the miracle child, kiri, and the cute youngest one, tuk. you loved them all so much, but what were you?

all these thoughts aren’t helping you when all your feelings start to drain away once you’re alone with your own thoughts.

why does your heart make so many decisions that your brain can’t keep up with? red stains on your exposed body, but you don’t feel anything anymore, nor do you sense anything else. all alone without any other living being beside you—darkness envelopes your body that turns into coldness, hugging your figure.

the sharp object beside you, covered in a gory image that all looks blurry in your eyes. the nightly forest glows and shines on it, reminding you of what you’ve done.

you hear your name being called in the distance. with everything feeling like a dream to you now, you thought that your own hands had finally cut out your life. until you feel your body being shaken by another figure.

“y/n! hey, look at me; what happened to you?” the frantic voice shouted at you

your eyes slowly adjusted from all the tears that covered your eyes. seeing your father’s distraught face made you slowly snap out of everything.

“dear god, what happened to you?” jake pleaded

“dad…” you shakily cried out

that was the only word you could let out before you lifted your crimson-stained arms out to cling onto his shoulders.

“oh baby girl, my sweet, sweet baby girl,” he whispered while he wrapped his arms tightly around you, giving you a shoulder to cry on.

your father was starting to get his body stained with your blood, but he didn’t even think about it. he didn’t care as long as you were in his arms, still breathing.

“i’m so sorry, daddy,” you sobbed out—already pleading for forgiveness for what you’ve done to yourself

“daddy’s here, daddy’s here, it’s okay, baby” he shakily hushed you with tears also starting to form in his eyes

from how tightly both of you were clinging onto each other even eywa or any other god couldn’t separate you both.

jake was the first one to pull away, even though it hurt him to do so.

“we need to get you patched up, alright?” he said with his eyes looking teary

you nodded slowly, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand.

—

you sniffle while watching jake carefully wrap your self-inflicted wounds.

“hey… you don’t have to tell me why right now, but know i’ll always be here for you, alright?” he softly speaks up, killing the silent atmosphere.

you slightly nodded in agreement—spacing out with no thoughts because of how drained you were.

“are you disappointed in me?” you quietly asked with your head down

jakes eyes soften gazing at your somber face

“no, no, i could never be disappointed in you,” he reassured you while he finished wrapping the last wound

“but aren’t you at least a little disappointed at what i’ve done? or, or disappointed in me for not being able to be as great as my siblings?” you choked up, holding back tears again

“oh, sweetheart…” he let out, taking you into his arms immediately. you bury your head into his chest just like when you were a baby.

“you’ve never been a disappointment, and you’ll never be one. you’re just as great as your siblings,” he softly comforted you with his hand, gently caressing your back in slow circled motions.

“don’t ever say that again, alright?”

you nodded into his chest

“sorry for being such a baby,” you mumbled

“you’re not a baby, but you’re still my baby girl,” he kissed the top of your head

you grumbled at the nickname while you shifted to a more comfortable position on your father.

“just know you’re the light of my life, and i never want to lose you,” he whispered.

[theemissuniverse]

Hii, I love your work sm and I wanted to know if I could request headcanons on how mk1 characters (preferably Liu Kang, Raiden, and Lin Kuei brother) react to an s/o with sh scars??? (Something I deal with personally)

I know it may be an uncomfortable topic to write so it’s okay if you decline, I’ll understand :)

“WHEN THEY SEE YOUR SCARS” MK MALE CHARACTERS

SUMMARY : Title is pretty self explanatory. I just did a variety of characters

WARNINGS : If you made it this far, obviously big triggering warning with sh.

A/N: Ngl, I wanted to write something about this a week ago. Unfortunately, last weekend I slipped up after being two months clean of sh. I have Bipolar 2 so I very easily can slip up more. This is just to comfort people like me. If you have a problem with this, please just scroll past this one

MASTERLIST

MORTAL KOMBAT 1 CHARACTERS

Liu Kang

He doesn’t really understand at first. He tries to think that maybe you had gotten those wounds from a sparring incident. Maybe you had just gotten hurt too bad. That couldn’t of been the case. The wounds clearly looked self inflicted. They were indeed not from something or someone else.

He wanted to ask you about them as carefully as he could though. This was a delicate situation. Then he thought that maybe he shouldn’t even ask you. He should make you comfortable with telling him first. He didn’t want to scare you off.

While you did dishes, Liu Kang came up behind you. He touched both your arms gently that had the overwhelmingly amount of scars on them. Your sleeves covered it. You froze a little when he did this. He then began to rub your arms soothingly and he kissed your face with all the love in the world. “You know I love you right, my love?” That broke you. Liu Kang held you in his arms tightly as you cried in his chest.

Raiden

He jumps into it right away. He doesn’t really think of the best way to handle it because he’s too worried about you. Raiden grips your arm and forces your sleeve up. “What is this?” You snatch your arm away from him. “It’s nothing.” You try to walk away from him but Raiden won’t let you.

Raiden grabs your arm again and makes you stand in place. You’ll try to fight against his hold but Raiden will not back down. “Stop.” He says. He’ll bring you in his chest and wrap his arms around you. “I love you.” He’ll say it over and over again while kissing you as you break down and cry.

He knows you need help and he will deal with that later but right now he will make sure that you know he loves you.

Johnny Cage

He feels like he’s the least bit qualified to handle something like this. He doesn’t know how to bring up the topic. Usually, Johnny uses serious situations with his charming humor but this wasn’t one of those situations. He knew this wasn’t the time for his jokes.

Johnny will start off by saying “You know you can trust me right?” You look at him a little bit confused. “Yeah. Why?” Johnny nods and will turn away from you. “No reason.” And for the day he’ll leave it at that.

This will continue for some time because he genuinely does not know how to handle this situation at all. That is until he comes home from the movie set and he sees you depressed in bed. He’ll lay in the bed with you. He’ll kiss you on your forehead and will then touch your arm with the long sleeve that had your scars on it. “I know.” He brings you closer to his chest. “I’m sorry, doll.”

Bi-Han

He also jumps into right away. He’s a very impulsive individual so he’s not really thinking straight. He’ll grab your arm and force your sleeve up. He’s confused though because he is not familiar with self harm at all. “What is this? How did you get these?”

You snatch your arm from him and roll the sleeve back up. “Got into an accident. That’s it.” “You didn’t tell me that.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to tell you everything.” Bi-Han notices your snippy behavior but for the first time, he does not indulge in it.

The next time, Bi-Han notices the scars when you come out the shower. He sees the scars now on your thighs. “What is that?” He’ll try to touch them but you push him away telling him they were from sparring. He’s no idiot. He now knows what you’re doing. “Why are you doing that to yourself?” You start to cry and have a breakdown. Bi-Han sighs and will bring you into a hug. Trying to comfort you the best he can but he’s not the best at it.

MORTAL KOMBAT 11 CHARACTERS

Kano

He feels like time has stopped for him. He’ll slowly drink his beer as he looks at them. He knows he’s an asshole but he’s so in love with you, it hurts. He doesn’t know how to go about it without sounding like he doesn’t care.

Kano will slowly touch on your arm where the scars are at. You look at him and down to your arm. For you, time has also stopped because how are you suppose to explain to your boyfriend of what you been doing?

The two of you don’t say a word. Kano starts rubbing on your scars. He finishes the beer in his hand and he sets it down on the counter. “Why are you doing that?” He knows it’s a stupid question but he doesn’t know what to say. When he sees you start to cry, he’ll pull you into a hug. “Come on, love. You know I care about you.”

Shao Kahn

He’s the last person to understand what is on your arm. He thinks somebody had did it to you. “Who did this? I will soak the sands with their blood.” You couldn’t help but chuckle a little and grabbed your arm from him. “Just got too carried away with sparring. Nothing major.” He doesn’t think you lied to him because well to him, you know better.

Shao Kahn only now puts the puzzle pieces together when he sees more appear on your thighs. You had been wanting to have intimacy with the lights off and he didn’t think anything of it but now he understood. He doesn’t know what to say.

He is not the kindest man in the world. Not at all but he did love you with all his heart. He rubbed on the scars and kissed you deeply. “Stop.” Is all he says.

Noob Saibot

He catches on quick. There’s no confusion within him. Especially because you were showing signs of the nature. He just doesn’t know how to go about it without being a dick.

“You should stop that.” He told you. You looked at him a bit confused. “Stop what?” “You know what.” It catches you off guard because you didn’t think that Bi-Han would figure it out.

Bi-Han is not used to this emotion nor is he good with comforting people. “Do you want a hug?” He asked. Crying, you nodded and went to hug him. Surprisingly for cold death, he was warm.

MORTAL KOMBAT X CHARACTERS

Takeda Takahashi

He is in absolute shock. He’s on it immediately though. He doesn’t wait for anything fearing that if he does wait, worse will happen. He grabs your arm and examines it fully. “What is this?” You try to take your arm away but Takeda won’t let you.

“Baby, why?” Takeda asked with his own tears in his eyes. He thinks that he did something wrong. That he isn’t making you happy. “Did I do something wrong? Are you not happy because of me?”

You immediately tell him no that it’s not him. Takeda pulls you into a hug. “I love you so much. Please, don’t do this.” He’ll hold you like his life depends on it and refuses to let go of you. Even when the two of you stop crying.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Vaggie: "I can't believe I'm saying this... No. We can't kill him."

Alastor: "Oh I DO believe we can! Between my own illustrious career and your more effective if far less stylish hackjob with those inelegant, messy, uncultured Exorcists, our combined body count at the very LEAST proves that we-"

Vaggie: "Fine. We could, but we won't kill him."

Alastor: "Why EVER not? I brought him all this way, to this dingy back alley, so that we would not sully those TACKY hotel carpets-"

Vaggie: "So Charlie wouldn't see this, you mean."

Alastor: "She cannot POSSIBLY object to what she's not aware of!"

Vaggie: "She'll still be fucking upset when she hears about it afterwards."

Alastor: "Then don't tell her."

Vaggie: "I-"

Alastor: "You are QUITE skilled at that little trick aren't you?"

Vaggie: "Wow yeah, and it worked out SO great for her last time!"

Alastor: "Didn't it? For you certainly it did. She barely takes her hands off you theses days doesn't she. Truely I shudder to imagine what the nights might bring-"

Vaggie: "I brought my spear here because you said you were in danger. I'll make getting a spear in the eye the danger if you say one more word."

Alastor: "Correction! I said I needed help. There is nothing in hell that could leave ME in ANY danger."

Vaggie: "I'm not from hell. Neither was the dick that almost killed you last time."

Alastor: "My point, oh terrifying hotel manager, is that this thing-"

Vaggie: "Don't jab at her ex like that! What the fuck Alastor? You'll leave a hole!"

Alastor: "-he is a loose thread in her life, my dear, and one that might seek to re-entangle himself with her, now the hotel has proven itself not entirely a joke and there is power and influence in Hell on the table, ready for the taking."

Vaggie: "He could also be a fucking ally. Or just a guy minding his own business in Hell-"

Alastor: "Or he could make the hotel HIS business and put YOU out of a job. Yes~?"

Vaggie: "..."

Alastor: "He DID mange that well enough in the past now didn't he?"

Vaggie "... if he can do it better than me, then, fine."

Alastor: "You are gripping your spear rather tightly as you say that."

Vaggie: "I'm trying not to shove it down your throat."

Alastor: "Touching! Oh I DO find you rather amusing my dear, ever SUCH a font of self-inflicted misery and abject, whole-hearted suffering!"

Vaggie: "You bring it out in people."

Alastor: "Don't I? And how I would hate to lose you as a source of daily entertainment!"

Vaggie: "I thought you wanted to kill him to keep him away from Charlie."

Alastor: "Him? Hmmm, no, I doubt he would be an issue. For me."

Vaggie: "Great. So why bother."

Alastor: "To keep YOU around, of course~!"

Vaggie: "You mean, to have something you can tell Charlie I did next time you want her upset and alone and desperate enough to make another fucking deal with you!"

Alastor: "You wound me! Why I would never manufacture such a thing! I didn't need to the first time, did I?"

Vaggie: "... You try killing him, and I WILL stab you."

Alastor: "If you're so worried of entrapment why not head me off and call her right now? Let her bear witness! Or send a, ugh, recording of it directly to her afterwards!"

Vaggie: "How the fuck would that help!?"

Alastor: "Why shouldn't it? Better to ask forgiveness than permission, yes?"

Vaggie: "Oh yeah wonderful idea Alastor, I'll just call her up like- Hey Charlie, guess what sweetie- I did a murder! But you still love me, right???"

Alastor: "She did after the first several THOUSAND."

Vaggie: "That was before I knew her!"

Alastor: "A death is a death. In your case they were all the total destruction of otherwise immortal souls, but in any case,I fail to see how one killing more should make any difference."

Vaggie: "Then you really don't get Charlie at all."

Alastor: "Oho? I 'get' her rather well I think. I got her into Cannibal Town, my dear. I got her to PRECISELY where she is now."

Vaggie: (snorts) "Sure you did."

Alastor: "She would not have the hotel without me."

Vaggie: "Fuck the hotel. If you think our dream is some walls and shitty furniture then you don't get why we're doing this either."

Alastor: "Hmm."

Alastor: "... regardless! Shall we?"

Vaggie: "NO."

Alastor: (sighs) "You are being rather tiresome about this."

Vaggie: "Then you shouldn't have invited me to this creepy wannabe bonding moment thing."

Alastor: "I am TRYING to help you! It feels rather like attempting to prize a poisoned rat carcass from the mouth of that absurd little hotel manifestation you call a CAT."

Vaggie: "Always a compliment to be compared to KeeKee's perfection."

Alastor: "I beg to differ."

Vaggie: "You'll let him go. Now."

Alastor: "Really after I brought the man all the way here, dragging him kicking and screaming through shadows the entire way-"

Vaggie: "Alastor."

Alastor: "-he'll never be the same again anyway at this point. Wouldn't it be so much more KINDER to EnD HIs MISERY~"

Vaggie: "Drop him."

Alastor: "If you insist." (splat)

Vaggie: (groan) "Not drop him LITERALLY into the trash bin-"

Alastor: "Exact words my dear, we are in hell after all. Oh and please DO come crying to me, won't you? When he renews his advances to Charlie, rekindles that old flame, and sweeps her off her cloven hooves with his... well...."

Alastor & Vaggie: (stares at the him)

Alastor: "...I assume he must have SOME merits, somewhere. His well fitted suits, perhaps."

Vaggie: "Charlie... Charlie has standards."

Alastor: "Are we sure?"

Vaggie: "Hey."

Alastor: "Present current standard excluded, of course."

Vaggie: "No, I..." (sigh) "...maybe I'm proof she needs higher standards for dating people, honestly."

Alastor: "Ahhhh. When she dumps you, I hope you will keep in touch. You are so inconsolably self-loathing WHILE in a loving relationship I can only dream of the succulent agonies you will extrude while heartbroken..."

Vaggie: "Who says you can't be a little heartbroken while loving someone." (walking away) "Also, 'succulent'? 'Extrude'?? What the fuck am I Alastor, a fruit gusher candy?"

Alastor: (bangs trash lid down) (following) "Actually I'm afraid I am a bit peckish and was envisioning a delightfully well aged side of venison-"

Vaggie: "Gross."

-night at the hotel-

Charlie: "He WHAT!? Noooo... he didn't..."

Vaggie: "Cross my heart, sweetie. Maybe the fight with Adam knocked something loose in his head."

Charlie: "He hadn't even done any maiming before you got there? He WAITED???"

Vaggie: "I mean emotionally speaking your ex might a kinda scarred from the trip there, but physically? Barely a bump or scratch on him."

Charlie: "That's, that's amazing!"

Vaggie: "Suit was a loss though. Not that that's much of a loss."

Charlie: "Alastor called you AND he waited! AND listened to you! It's like he was outsourcing having a conscious, oh Vaggie that's HUGE! That's- Wait."

Vaggie: "It's a brand new way for him to be a pain in the ass but whatever. Yay."

Charlie: "Wait, Vaggie- What's wrong with Sev's suit? You like MY suits!"

Vaggie: "Your suits look good on you, babe. And best of all they have you in them."

Charlie: "Oh. Heh."

Vaggie: "And I am NOT taking on the job of being that other asshole's conscious. I'm already employed. Plus it's hard enough not to stab him anyway."

Charlie: "What about helping him as his friend?"

Vaggie: "What about him holding out on us until he could get you into making a deal with him sweetie?"

Charlie: "Well. Okay. Yes. He's not... he's still got a ways to go..."

Vaggie: "No shit."

Charlie: "But he COULD have just done the murder and THEN tried getting you involved! And he didn't. He listened when you said no. That's something, right?"

Vaggie: "It's, something alright."

Charlie: "It's improvement!"

Vaggie: "To his morals or his manipulation games?"

Charlie: "We'll find out! But for now..."

Charlie: (scoots closer)

Vaggie: "?"

Charlie: "Maybe, um. Tell me again how you stood between my ex and certain death...?"

Vaggie: "....really? Really."

Charlie: "It sounds like it was VERY cool~"

Vaggie: "It was the lowest effort rescue ever, hun. I think I might have stepped on him a few times. Uh. On accident."

Charlie: "Mm. Still kinda hate him?"

Vaggie: "I'm still open to stabbing him for you if that's what you mean."

Charlie: (giggles) "Only for me though, huh?"

Vaggie: "Sure I, I'll- I'll go do it right now, if you want?"

Charlie: "I've got a better idea of what we could be doing."

Vaggie: "Y-yeah?"

Charlie: "I might have to take my suit off for it, if that's okay~"

Vaggie: "Uhhhh-"

Charlie: "But first!" (hugs gf)

Charlie: "Thanks, Vaggie... For not ignoring Alastor's call, or turning right around and letting him kill someone when he didn't have to. Even when it was my ex."

Vaggie: (melting) "That's just, part of being hotel manager right?"

Charlie: "It's amazing." (squeezes) "I'm so proud of you."

Vaggie: "I just did a normal thing, Charlie."

Charlie: "Not so normal down here."

Vaggie: "Or for an Exorcist."

Charlie: "You're more of a guardian angel these days. Especially days like this."

Vaggie: "...."

Charlie: "Was it hard?"

Vaggie: "...yeah. Sorry."

Charlie: "Then THAT makes me even prouder."

Vaggie: "....thanks, sweetie..."

Charlie: "Vaggie? What's wrong?"

Vaggie: "Nothing. All good."

Charlie: "....."

Vaggie: "I'm good, okay?"

Charlie: "Okay. And I can stay in hug mode alllll night."

Vaggie: "...."

Vaggie: "Look, not to question your taste in ex boyfriends, but-"

Charlie: "Wha- that's what-?"(laughs) "Vaggie, as a lesbian, I really don't think you get to have much of an opinion here!"

Vaggie: "-there has to be SOMETHING attractive about him, right? Something you liked? Or, still like? I mean, we've both got grey-ish skin I guess, and there's the hat thing he wears- you always liked Pentious's hat too- or is the suit thing? I could, they're not that hard to move in guess, I could probably wear-"

Charlie: (kiss) "You look great in anything, Vaggie. And happiest in skirts, which makes them prettiest on you."

Vaggie: "But-"

Charlie: "And I like you BEST in nothing~"

Vaggie: "...."

Vaggie: "That's a lot easier."

Charlie: "Heheheh."

[haechvn]

Too Intense

Pairing: Shuri Udaku x F!Reader

Warning: Y'all gone hate me cause Shuri rude asf. You have been warned. I'm actually tryna hurt yall feelins. Angst.

Word Count: 1.1k+

Summary/Request: Toxic!Shuri. That's it.

Author’s Note: I wrote this a while ago but I wasn't too sure about it. I tweaked it a bit and now i'm in love. Lmk if yall wanna be on my taglist. Love yall

Taglist: @blkgworlamplified @wakanda-forever-andotherfandoms @theblacksuccubus

The cold, sterile smell of the hospital was almost too familiar by now, a stark reminder of the pain and confusion that had become a constant in your life. Shuri had been rough with you during a training session. Her strength, normally a reassuring presence, had become uncomfortably overbearing, and you found yourself sidelined in the hospital for a few nights on many different occasions. The bruises and aches were secondary to the emotional turmoil of being so close to her yet so far away.

When you were finally released, the confrontation you dreaded sought you out. Shuri had locked herself in her room, unable—or rather unwilling—to face you. Her absence was a silent scream of regret and discomfort, and you could feel the coldness of her avoidance cutting through the air. Her usual self-assured demeanor had cracked, revealing a vulnerability she refused to acknowledge.

Her newfound lack of empathy was one of the hardest things to endure. Shuri often acted as if her own hardships were so monumental that nothing could compare. It became a habit for her to dismiss your struggles with an almost casual cruelty. “Wow. It’s so sad you argue with your mom every day. Where’s mine? Oh, right. I’m done listening,” she would say, brushing off your pain with a shrug. It was as if your problems were trivial compared to the grand scale of her own trials.

This lack of empathy extended to how she handled your relationship, particularly when it came to her interactions with RiRi. Shuri was constantly talking about how beautiful RiRi was, her voice dripping with deliberate poison, meant to provoke jealousy and rage. Despite her attempts to downplay it, her actions spoke volumes. The tension built until it reached a breaking point. One night, the emotional strain pushed you too far and you lashed out at her with every fiber of your being. It was a desperate act of frustration and pain, the culmination of feeling constantly belittled and manipulated.

Shuri looked you dead in the eyes after that you spoke out against her behavior, her gaze cold and unwavering. “You aren’t more important than my work or anyone else in my life,” she said with an icy calm tone. “If you can’t handle that, then you should just leave me alone. Spend the money I give you and keep quiet.” The words cut deep, and the gesture that followed—a transfer of two million dollars to your account—was a bitter reminder of her ability to detach from you emotionally while trying to compensate with financial means. The way she used money as a substitute for emotional connection only deepened the rift between the two of you. Her financial generosity was supposed to be a balm for the wounds she inflicted, but it only served as a stark reminder of how transactional your relationship had become. The many millions of dollars she has transferred to you over the years were a testament to her belief that money could mend what her words and actions had shattered.

Her refusal to even be intimate with you became a weapon she wielded with precision. One morning, you had simply greeted the Dora Milaje with a soft “hi,” and Shuri’s reaction was swift and harsh. “I didn’t like the way you spoke to them,” she declared, her tone final. “No sex tonight. Matter fact, don't touch me for a week.” The punishment felt petty and unjust, a way for her to reassert her control and punish you for perceived slights.

The physical and emotional barriers she built were sometimes more painful than the wounds from training sessions. Her constant criticism, whether it was about your strength or my interactions with others, was a manifestation of her own insecurities. She projected her frustrations onto you, making every exchange feel like a test of endurance rather than a moment of genuine connection.

The dynamic between you often felt like a constant struggle for validation. Shuri’s embarrassment over your perceived lack of strength was another cruel twist in the relationship. “Tighten up, what is the hell is the matter with you,” she’d scold, her impatience palpable. It was as if your struggles were a reflection of her own inadequacies and oh did she despised seeing you falter.

Shuri’s refusal to acknowledge her role in your issues, combined with her tendency to gaslight and dismiss every feeling you expressed, left you reeling. Her actions, from the callous remarks about any family issues to the cruel mind games she played with RiRi, spoke of someone who was deeply conflicted but unwilling to confront her own shortcomings.

Each time you thought you'd find a moment of understanding or solace in one another, Shuri would retreat back into her fortress of self-righteousness and emotional detachment. It was as if she viewed the relationship as a battleground, where the stakes were high and the only victory was maintaining control. Any attempts to address these issues were met with her trademark dismissal or cold logic.

In moments of clarity, you could see the cracks in her armor—the fleeting glimpses of vulnerability and the rare admissions of her own struggles. Yet, these moments were always fleeting, quickly buried under layers of her self-imposed duty and mental barricades. It was a dance between pain and disillusion, where love was twisted into a weapon rather than a source of comfort.

As you navigated the choppy waters of your relationship, it became clear that Shuri was trapped in her own cycle of paranoia and denial. Her inability to balance her personal and professional lives, combined with her tendency to prioritize her work over the connection you two once nurtured, created a volatile environment where genuine affection was often overshadowed by power struggles and emotional manipulation.

The realization of how deeply she was embedded in her own worldview left you grappling with your own emotions. You had to come to terms with the fact that your attempts to reach her or change the situation was no longer necessary. The love you once shared had become a thorn in your side. The high stakes were not just your feelings but your very sense of self-worth and emotional stability.

In the end, you were left to decipher the complexity of your union, trying to find a way to either bridge the gap or finally accept that this cycle of emotional manipulation and control was unsustainable. The journey was marked by moments of intense passion and deep pain, a testament to the intricate and often destructive nature of your once sacred connection. The combination of emotional distance, scheming, and outright cruelty created a relationship that was as painful as it was complex.