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kaylopolis · 5 months ago

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) Chapter One

Pairing: Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest. Now, with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plans bring you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tags: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Word Count: 67+ and counting (of the whole fic)

Chapters: 10/??

Warnings: Minors DNI! 18+! May contain disturbing, gruesome, and graphic sexual scenes. Graphic violence. Blood. Obsession. Mentions of abuse. Mentions of substance abuse. Trigger warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter.

Link to Masterlist: Masterlist

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Author note: Hoteliers, This is my first attempt at a fanfic, but I was just so inspired and wanted to post it somewhere after writing like +67K words (and counting). So here goes nothing I guess?

<3 Stay Smutty

Chapter One - The Commercial

Content Warning: None but let me know if I missed any!

“Power is of two kinds. One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective and permanent than the one derived from fear…” - Mahatma Gandhi

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Your fingers find the brass handle as anxiety builds in the back of your throat.

Are you nervous? Why are you nervous? The commercial seemed so inviting and everyone seemed so nice - even if it was a bit glitchy in some frames. If they are indeed as altruistic as they appear, then you’ll be fine!

But, what if they don’t accept you?

Nonsense, you just need to show that you care, that you can help. After all, Princess Morningstar wouldn’t turn help away, would she? You were there in the courtyard a few days ago when Heaven’s clock ticked down from one year to 6 months: 182 days right before your eyes. Damn… But it gave you an opening - a reason to repent as opposed to just showing up out of the blue and inventing some backstory in an attempt to explain your sudden desire to achieve redemption. It was an opportunity you couldn’t refuse.

“Okay, so the Extermination is coming in six months instead of a year. No big deal…”

As you stepped into the Hotel, you couldn’t help but be underwhelmed by the state of the place. From the outside it seemed big and glamorous - despite the random bits of cell phone tower and… was that a mast from a ship? On the inside, it was worse. Way worse. It wasn’t gross, it was an array of stuff… that was probably the best way to put it. The carpet was torn, the wallpaper peeling, parts of the wall had been tacked together with newer planks of wood to repair unknown sources of damage. It was… Well at least it didn’t smell… that bad…

Emerging into the foyer, small suitcase in hand - after all, you didn’t own much - you searched for the front desk, but the only thing resembling any sort of check-in area was a bar where a cat-bird thing was organizing bottles.

To your left was a small inlet before a fireplace, fit with television and radio where two demons sat, listening to a blonde haired bellhop pace.

“… well just handle it! Right!?” The girl grabbed at her hair.

No, not a bellhop. Princess Charlie Morningstar. God, she looked just like her dad. The only thing she got from Lilith was her height. Probably a good thing…

Your heart sank at the sight of her. Biting back the flood of memories threatening to spill down your face, you take a deep breath and enter.

“Yes,” a grey demon stood, a waterfall of dark hair brushed the floor as she walked. “We will.” She grabs Charlie’s shoulders, forcing her to stop pacing.

They still hadn’t noticed you. Was this eavesdropping? Were you being rude? That wouldn’t make for a great first impression.

You took a few hesitant steps forward hoping they’d hear your heels clack against the wood.

“Oh please,” the spider-looking thing sitting on the couch scoffed, staring down at his phone as he talked. “Ya’ had less than half a chance before you started all this salvation bullshit. And now… ain’t no silver linin’, toots.”

You cleared your throat, having practically snuck up on the group.

“Oh my gosh!” The blonde squeaked as the grey demon with ridiculously long hair pulled a spear on you, stepping before the Princess.

You dropped the suit case immediately, raising your arms to show you meant no harm.

“Who are you? What are you doing sneaking around?” She demanded.

Your eyes flit to the “X” eye patch, then to the silver tip mere inches from your nose.

Oh shit, this girl’s the Fallen. Relax, you accounted for that. So long as she doesn’t recognize you…

“I’m sorry!” You squeak, taking a half step back. She follows, her spear not leaving your face. “I tried making noise but you must not have heard me. I was just looking to check-in but…”

“Huh!” The Princess gasped so loud it made your ears pop.

Pushing the ex-Exorcist - huh, funny - aside the blond grabs your shoulders and squeezes. “Are you a guest!?” Her eyes sparkled.

“Well, yeah. I was hoping…” you didn’t get a chance to finish before she brought you into a hug so tight you couldn’t breathe. She lifted you off your feet and spun you in a circle before placing you back on the ground.

“Yay! Vaggie, our very first guest!” She sang.

“Hey!” The spider finally looked up from his phone. “I’m sittin’ right ‘ere ya’ know?”

Did he have six eyes or two? Hard to tell but the pink dots decorating his face blinked when he did.

Creepy.

“Okay, hun,” the Fallen drops her spear, taking Charlie by the arm in an endearing way, but you really knew it was to hold her back. “Let’s give our guest some space. Let her breathe. She can’t be redeemed if you suffocate her and she dies… Again.”

“Right,” she laughs, reigning herself in. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” Her arms fan out to the room, gesturing to the rundown establishment.

You musture a genuine smile, not because you’re impressed with the place but because the Princess’ happiness was infectious.

“My name is Charlie!” She takes your hand in hers.

“My name is Thestral,” you answer between the vigorous shakes rolling up your arm.

“Okay, that’s enough,” the Fallen pulls Charlie away from you. “I’m Vaggie. The guy on the couch is Angel and Husk is behind the bar.”

Angel gives you a mindless wave, frowning at something on his phone. The bar cat tips his hat to you before pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

Was the bartender supposed to drink the supply? Also, wasn’t it barely nine in the morning?

“Let me get your bag!” Charlie snatches the hardback suitcase before you have a chance to protest. Dragging you by the elbow, she insists upon a tour.

The Hotel was cute - if not a weird hodgepodge of thrown together dimensions. The bar was clearly cut from somewhere else, the piano room is definitely not of this century, and don’t get you started on the pool. All in all however, it was cute. You could see yourself here, in the library reading late at night with a glass of red, in the music room practicing your piano, on the back balcony enjoying the breeze and screams of innocents. It wasn’t perfect - nothing compared to the luxury you experienced before Hell - but it felt home-y.

“This is you!” Charlie pulls a key from her pocket as she stops before a door. “Angel is to the left and Alastor is just across the hall.” Grabbing your arm once more, she drags you inside.

It’s cute but humble - something you’d expect from a bed and breakfast and not a city hotel. The room is huge, with a four post bed wrapped in white sheets, neatly tucked into the sides military style. To your left is a small sitting area with a couch and coffee table. Past that were two doors, one leading to a small walk-in closet and the other a tile bathroom.

Frankly, coming from sharing a cramped city apartment in Cannibal Town to this was a huge step up as far as you were concerned.

“Here you are!” She dropped a black key in your hand, a cat’s eye decorating the handle. Finally, a room to call your own. “Nifty cleans on Sundays and…”

“Wait, my room gets cleaned?” You scrunched your nose in confusion.

“Of course! We don’t want you to have anything to worry about when you stay with us. Redemption is the goal, afterall!” Charlie sang.

That was going to be a problem…

Charlie stood staring at you for a long moment, her eyes sparkling in the low light. Her hands cupped her chin as she smiled at you with such emotion you were surprised her face didn’t split in half right there. She looked like a small child, waiting for a candy bar or something.

God, you didn’t realize how enthusiastic she would be about all this. Now is definitely not the time to tell her you had no intentions of being redeemed. You were just here for the chaos. Frankly, any normal person would feel guilty right about now, but not you.

Oh, you had far bigger plans for Ms. Morningstar, she just didn’t know it yet.

“Okay,” Vaggie steps up, grabbing her by the collar. “We’ll let you get unpacked. It’s Sunday so brunch is at eleven in the kitchen. We’ll come get you and show you the way. If you need anything there’s a rotary phone by the bed, just call Husk at the bar. He’s always there…”

“A rotary phone?” You scrunch your nose.

Sure enough, a black rotary phone sat on the bedside table. What century was this? Cannibal Town was stuck in the 1900s but at least they had cell phones.

“Yeah, the Hotel Manager is a bit outdated with his tastes…” Vaggie grumbles. You sensed tension in her comment but didn’t ask for further details.

“Anyway!” Charlie puts a hand on your shoulder. “We’re really, REALLY glad you’re here.” She breathed in your face, her voice cracking with the threat of tears.

God, she even had Lucifer’s mannerisms…

You huffed, blowing off the extra emotions her smile pushed into you. “Thank you for taking me in.”

Watching as the Exorcist pulled the Princess back down the hallway, you shut your door and collapsed against the wood.

“Fuck,” you breathed. Charlie was going to be someone you could only handle in small doses.

The Princess definitely didn’t recognize you and neither did Vaggie. She might be Hell Royalty but she was oblivious.

Did she know about Vaggie? Maybe she did and has already accepted it. This place is about second chances after all.

It didn’t take you long to unpack, after all you didn’t have many personal possessions. A few sets of clothes, some boots and heels, your toiletries and makeup… The suitcase was only half full when you packed it with every possession you owned. Now all you could do was stand before the mirror in the bathroom and stare at yourself as the anxiety began to build again. You fixed your red lipstick over and over until it drove you mad. Throwing the makeup back into your bag, your mind turned to your outfit.

You were dressed in black slacks which sat high on your hips, fanning out at your legs. Tucked into your waistband was a white button up, giving you the hourglass appearance. Your silver hair was twisted into a bun at the back of your head, a metal clip holding it in place. Your eyes seemed to glow in the dim light, your yellow irises emitting their own form of light.

Out of all the animalistic appearances in Hell, you were gifted the rare form of a somewhat normal human shape. No tail, no ears, no horns - well, in your normal state anyway. It was just you, with skin as pale white as Charlie’s and a nose tipped in black. You stood a normal five foot four, but in heels you could argue five and a half. You didn’t have canines as sharp and distinct as others, but hey who needed them? You preferred fighting with your hands, anyway.

Frankly, you were boring compared to the Sinners and Natives of Hell. The most interesting note was the tattoo which spanned your back from shoulder blades to your hips, but that wasn’t important at the moment.

Your mind returned to your clothes again. They were nice, nothing too flashy and definitely not Velvette brand, but were they too much? Weekend brunches in Cannibal Town were always such a classy affair, something you were expected to dress up for despite the messy array of food which was served.

Was that expected here?

As if on cue, a door opens in the hallway and footsteps echo across the carpet.

Perhaps you should ask.

Racing to the door, you peak your head out to find Angel heading to the stairs, his nose stuck in his phone.

“Uhm, excuse me?” You chirp. It was barely audible and he wasn’t paying attention but you were a new voice, which definitely drew him from whatever battle was playing itself out on his screen.

“Oh, hey!” He tucked the cell phone back into his pocket. His face contorted into a smile, he was doing his best not to show his frustration but it was still quite obvious. “They put ya’ right next to me aye?” He leans against the doorframe, one arm on the wall, the other three at his hips. “Just a fair warning. I can get a little loud. If ya’ know what I mean?” He winks at you, a knowing smile spreading across his sharp teeth as he elbows your side.

God, he was tall, he’d have to be like six foot three or something.

Up close, and with his attention fully on you, you could finally study his eyes: right eye sclera black, left white. Someone owned him, but with restrictive conditions.

You already knew the answer: Valentino. Hey, what can ya’ say? You did your homework.

“Do you guys dress up for brunch or is it more casual?” You smiled, doing your best not to stare at the pink dots blinking back at you on his cheeks. Still creepy.

“Oh, uh, I dunno, toots. I normally just go in whatever I have on.” He gestured to his pink striped shirt and long boots.

Casual it is then.

“But if ya’ prefer. I could go in nothing at all,” he purrs, his eyebrows wiggling at you suggestively.

You couldn’t help but giggle. You got the sense that it wasn’t genuine flirting. That he was trying to make you smile more than anything else. He enjoys entertaining others like that. Probably why he became a Porn Star - and such a famous one at that.

His face lit up at your laugh.

“Great, the wire in this bra is killing me!” You mime a pain in your back, eliciting a laugh from the spider demon himself.

“I like yous,” he holds out a hand to shake. “Names Angel Dust.”

“Thestral,” you shook his furry hand - he had so many, you wondered how he went shopping for shirts.

“Thestral? Like the dead horses from ‘arry Potter?”

“You know your JK Rowling?”

Angel had to have died in like the 40s/50s - from what research you did before coming here. How did he know about the books and movies made popular in the 2010s?

“Yeah, she ended up down here after she died. Kept writing weird shit about her characters. Really changed my views on the Potterverse. It was shocking for a while but you can only be so entertaining on Sinstagram and Vitter for so long these days.” He shrugged.

“Huh, for some reason that doesn’t surprise me, but thank you. The last place I lived, everyone was expected to dress for meals and I just wanted to be sure.”

“No problem, toots. If ya’ don’t mind me askin’, how long yous been down here? If ya’ didn’t know about the Potter thang, it couldn’t have been that long?” His accent: New York?

“Just shy of six years, actually,” you rubbed the back of your neck anxiously, feeling the bubbles beginning to fester inside you.

You’ve done work to gather information before, but you’ve never had to act like you were now. You were always behind a mask… How many details were too many to share?

“Oh, damn, just shy of being a Fleshy!” He smiles.

“A Fleshy?” You scrunch your nose.

“Yeah, the living or whatnot.” He pulls out his phone again, frowning at the notification screen before pulling up an app. Something was definitely bothering him. “Hey, whatcha say we head down a little early? I can pull up her Vitter page and show ya’ some good ones?” The spider demon smiled, frustration weighing down his eyebrows. He had a single gold tooth which sparkled in the low light.

“Sure!” You tried to respond not too excitedly.

This was the plan. Get in early with one of the Hotel mates and use it as a way to get information on the others.

You had thought it was going to be Husk. What bartender didn’t love gossip? But here was Angel offering himself up on a silver platter.

You only had about an hour before brunch was served, but those sixty minutes laying in the alcove by the fireplace were the most hilarious minutes of your life. Angel had you laughing so hard you were crying. Things were going well. Despite the constant text messages from Valentino you pretended not to notice chime across the screen.

At about eleven, a small girl named Nifty - who introduced herself as the housemaid - emerged from the kitchen to announce that brunch was ready, and as everyone piled into the room and found their designated places, you realized you didn’t know where to go. It was like being the new kid at school walking into the lunchroom with a sack lunch and not a friend in the world to rescue you.

“Hey” Angel waved you to the only available seat left, which just so happened to be at the head. “Sit next to me, will ya’?”

Relief.

“No! That’s Mr. Alastor’s seat!” Nifty protested from her place by the oven. Her entire body practically vibrated with energy.

“Mr. Alastor?” That name definitely did not come up in your research.

“Relax, Tiny. Smiles is on the terrace this morning drinkin’ his tea.” Angel leaned back in his chair, one set of arms folded behind his head. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill ‘em. Or maybe it will and we can finally be free o’ him and his creepy, ol’ timey ways. Either way, we’ll be fine.”

You blinked a few times before hesitantly falling into the seat. Nifty gave a great sigh as she watched you sit, not liking it but allowing it. She busied herself with serving platters of food, her lips twisted in a pout.

It’s a chair. You didn’t think it was that big of a deal? Maybe he was one of those people who was territorial with their things?

As you sat and passed the food around, you couldn’t help the hairs which prickled on the back of your neck. How could you have missed another guest at the Hotel? You swore you wrote down everyone you saw in that glitchy commercial and did thorough research before coming here. You were never this sloppy.

“Can I get you anything to drink, Thestral?” Charlie was at the fridge with five different bottles of liquid in her hand, eagerly awaiting your answer.

“Coffee would be great,” you smiled through a mouth full of eggs, one hand over your face to be polite. God, Nifty was a great cook. You usually never ate breakfast but this was amazing.

The Hotel inhabitants sat and talked like family. This place has only been open what? Two weeks? And already they got along like they’ve lived together for years. It was kinda cute actually but spelled issues for your plans. A close-knit group like this - especially so fast - only meant it was going to be harder to work your way in. Sure, Angel hung out with you for the past hour and you had a great time, but that was just surface level stuff. You were going to need to dig deeper.

“No! Nobody look at me,” Husk grumbled from a few seats down. “That machine is a nightmare.” He motioned to the silver espresso machine sitting on the corner countertop behind you.

It looked brand new, barely been touched! A machine like that probably cost hundreds and they weren’t using it?

“I’m sorry.” Charlie frowned from her place by the fridge. “We’ve had it for a while and no one can figure it out. Husk took a look at it last and although he tried, we got nowhere. Nifty bought beans for it and everything…”

A small smile found your lips, “Mind if I take a look?”

“Goodluck with that kiddo, that machine is cursed,” Husk buried his head in his arms, the orange juice in front of him bubbling with alcohol - which you would guess was more booze than orange at how much of his flask you saw him pouring into it earlier.

Seems like everyone knows, as no one glanced his way when it happened, but no one seemed to mind his drinking habits this early in the morning. Most likely a recurrent behavior then…

Husk was an old soul, probably the oldest one in this room. The cat had a history of gambling debts which mysteriously disappeared one day - the day he fell from power. You didn’t know the exact details but you heard it wasn’t pretty afterwards. The Vees swooped in pretty fast and gobbled up what remained of the fallen Overlord’s territory. It’s part of the reason they are where they are now. You wondered if the others knew about him? Maybe, seeing as how he’s found himself at the hotel built on second chances.

Taking the beans from Nifty, you quickly check over the machine. It’s a simple Breville Barista model, nothing too top of the line, but still a commercial appliance.

You wonder who they sent out on the errand to get this because they clearly had no idea what they were getting. This thing was meant for a high end coffee chain, to be used for hours straight, not sitting in a run down hotel’s kitchen. Regardless, you knew the model and how to use it.

Preheating the machine, you fill the grinder with beans before asking, “Hey Husk, pick your poison.”

He blinks at you a few times before answering. “Double espresso.”

Simple enough.

Clicking a single wall basket into the portafilter, you fill the metal device with ground beans before tapping it flat. Sliding it into the machine with a click, you grab two shot glasses and watch as the brew fills to the line, the fresh scent of chocolate, caramel, and nuts fill the kitchen. You pour both into a white glass and send it down the table to Husk who sits dumbfounded at the end of the kitchen. In fact, everyone had stopped eating completely to watch you work.

Anxiety bubbles in your stomach as you count the eyes boring into you.

Oh, fuck. You drew too much attention to yourself.

“Fuck, kid. This is good.” Husk chirps from the end of the table, having taken his first sip. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“I worked at a cafe just outside Cannibal Town when I first got here,” you rub the back of your neck, an uncomfortable laugh escaping your lips. “They had a machine just like this, but far bigger.”

That was true. After you fell, you were set up with a place to stay and a job at the local coffee shop which sat inbetween Cannibal Town and the border zone. It didn’t only serve certain… appetites, but was meant for a wider audience. You served everything from finger cakes (yes, fingers in the cakes) to bagels and cream cheese alongside the coffee creations.

“Oooh, Cannibal Town. This kid’s got bite,” Angel laughs. “I didn’t know you swung that way.” The spider demon shovels another pile of eggs onto his plate. He ate a lot.

“Oh, no. Not really, I just happened to… land there.” Technically you weren’t lying.

That first day in Hell was brutal. You smacked into cement face first, a pile of blood and broken bones. Luckily the streets weren’t crowded, and you were found and taken care of before anyone even noticed.

“So you just stayed in Cannibal Town for fun?” Vaggie didn’t look impressed. In fact, she looked suspicious - ever the hypervigilant soldier she was designed to be.

“Well…” There it was, the rubbing on the back of your neck again. By the end of today, your skin was going to be raw.

God, why was this so much easier with a mask on?

“Hey!” Charlie cut in, clearly sensing your discomfort. “You don’t have to tell us.” She cups your hands within her own. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters. We can get to know you at your own pace. Don’t push yourself. Okay?”

You offer her a sweet smile.

Wow, the Princess was really buying your act - or lack thereof, by how anxious this job was making you.

“Now, do you know how to make a cappuccino?” She motioned back to the machine. You silently thanked her for the change in conversation.

A genuine smile formed on your lips, “what kind of milk?”

The rest of the brunch passed quickly after you showed off your artistic masterpiece that was to become Vaggie’s coffee. The Princess ordered the beverage for her girlfriend, and after making a butterfly out of the milk atop the bubbles everyone else quickly got in line and ordered their own.

It didn’t bother you, in fact it made you more comfortable. You got to observe their behavior and interactions as a silent third party noting the ways in which they teased each other.

Husk could be a grump but you got the sense that he was a big softie. You couldn’t tell if Angel was actually flirting with the cat demon or just pushing his buttons, either way, the barkeep slunked out, flask in hand, with red cheeks.

When the chair started rattling, Nifty was prohibited from drinking anymore caffeine. She put up a pretty good fight but as soon as she saw a bug, she took off after it, needle in hand.

Angel returned to the couch, face in his phone, clearly stressed about something.

After helping with the dishes - Charlie protested but you insisted - she invited you to join the three of them by the fire where you had found them earlier that morning. You didn’t really have anything else to do, other than to try and win over the Hotel natives.

You could go hide in your room - the Lord knows your social meter needed the break. The group was welcoming but was… a lot. Especially Charlie, but the Princess and Vaggie had questions about the commercial and how Sinners were handling the recent date change for the Extermination. You shrugged and offered whatever you could - which wasn’t a lot.

“They’re desperate,” you answered.

“That’s right, they’re desperate. Maybe desperate enough to try anything to escape the Extermination,” Vaggie smiled, smacking her fist against her hand.

“Worked for me,” you shrugged, watching Angel from the corner of your eye.

Your heart melted a little for the spider demon. Valentino was known to be ruthless and manipulative - and the way he treated women… It was why you never took a job from the Overlord, let alone gave him a card. In fact, none of the Vees had your card. You didn’t like them, but you didn’t need to see how it affected Angel to decide that.

“This would be a perfect time to recruit more Sinners for the Hotel! We should get more rooms ready!” Charlie beamed. Of course she would find a way to spin this into something good.

“Cute idea and all, but are you really gonna go out in all this?” Angel turns his phone around, videos of the Doomsday Distract flash across the screen.

It was pretty chaotic, but when was that place not on fire?

“Well, it’s not like all Sinners are going to show up on our doorstep like Thestral did.” Charlie offered, motioning to you.

She wasn’t wrong…

BOOM!

Ah, perfect timing, Princess.

The entire Hotel rocked as dust and debris filled the foyer burning your lungs and eyes.

“Show yourself, Alassstor!” A voice echoed from outside.

The four of you ran to the now collapsed wall, veering into the streets to get a better look. Husk simply rolled his eyes and took another drink.

He was used to this?

Floating above the cobblestone streets was a yellow blimp equipped with an army of… eggs?

“Who are you?” A voice chimed from above, but it was… different - static-y…

“Who am I? Who am I?! I am the great Ssssssir Pentiousssss!” Deep within the zeppelin stood a black and yellow snake at the helm. He was dressed to the nines in army regalia.

Hmm, Sir Pentious? Had you heard of him before? You wracked your brain trying to think but nothing immediately came of mind. He had resources - clearly Carmilla Carmine supplies him by the brand on the metal - but was he a threat? He did put a hole through the building.

You spun studying his dirty work.

A missile? Sloppy, but still a step up from the lowest rung of demon.

“Inventor, architect of dessstruction, villain extraordinaire!” The snake twirls his arms, gesturing to himself and his work.

You scoff. Yeah right…

“Ooh you tell 'em boss!” The eggs chime.

What the fuck…? The eggs are sentient? Now that’s kind of interesting.

Testing the waters, you let an invisible finger of power slip from you and slither over to the zeppelin. It poked and prodded till it found a way through the metal before coming to rest by the snake demon’s tail. Gently, you caressed his form, searching for the power his soul possessed.

Yes, he definitely still had his soul, but from what you gathered - or rather, lack of what you gathered - this demon was no more a threat than a mosquito was to an elephant. But a better question was, what brought him here?

A chime of static fills the air, like little bolts of electricity, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

What the…?

You spin, checking behind you to find the source of the static snaking its way down your spine, but no one was there.

Charlie yelps, bringing your attention back to the group, as a trail of shadow crawls between her feet, giving way to a demon in red materializing from the darkness.

How did he do that?

The demon’s back was to you, his attention fully on the blimp. You didn’t recognize his silhouette. His deer ears, hooves, and antlers were pretty iconic, but you didn’t know any demon like that. He wasn’t a Hellborn, his profile didn’t fit any of the creatures Hell bred. So a Human Sinner then?

The demon stood before you, a red suit complete with red-tipped black boots, and black slacks. His jacket was long, ending at his knees. The hair atop his head was cut cleanly, red and tipped in black, and tousled ever so perfectly.

Yeah, you had no idea who this guy was. Which did not sit well with you.

Nifty materializes on his shoulder. When had she slipped out here? “Ooh, he’s a bad boy,” the tiny demon sings.

Okay then…

The demon lifts her from his person and drops her gently onto the cement. “Ha, well if all that's true, you'd think I'd have heard of you!”

His voice isn’t just static, it’s like a radio?

The snake drops his smile. “I attacked you literally last week.”

The red demon cocks his head.

“We've done battle, like... 20 times.”

The demon brings both hands to his staff. No, that’s not right, microphone? “Well, you must have been really bad at this.”

You snort, but do your best to stifle the giggle into your palm.

The demon stiffens. You swear you see his shadow elongate in your direction. A trick of the light? An hallucination? You look to Angel for direction but he’s too busy watching the interaction, clearly entertained.

“Silence! Now cower! For when I've ssslain you, the almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me as their equal.”

Nifty reappears on the demon’s shoulder, garnering his attention. “Ooh! Wait, who are the Vees?”

“Oh, nobody important,” the red demon sings.

Nobody important, eh? For someone to so easily dismiss the Vees like that they’d have to either be stupid or think themselves more powerful - in both cases, they’re stupid. I agree, independently, the Vees are more annoying than anything. One by one they weren’t a threat, but all three together…

Testing a theory, you let that tendril of power sneak from your core, and just as you had Sir Pentious, you let it slither to the base of the demon’s shoes. Delicately prodding…

SMACK!

A slap hits your power so hard it sends your head spinning. You fall backwards into Angel who wraps his arms under your shoulders to steady you.

“You okay, toots?” Angel whispers in your ear, your vision spinning.

Holy shit.

It was either the sheer force of the blow or the dizziness in its wake, but you swore you saw faces laughing at you in the shadows.

“Uh,” you shake your head, willing the sting to subside.

Jesus, what was that? You’ve never had a reaction like that before…

“I think so?” You find your feet. “Just all the excitement… Caught me off guard.” You give him a fake laugh. He shrugs it off.

What the fuck…?

The next thing you know, Charlie’s grip is on your arm. “I promise it’s not always like this!”

From the corner of your eye, you see Vaggie shake her head. “Yes it is..” she grumbles before swearing under her breath in… Spanish?

Patting Charlie’s arm, you assure her that it doesn’t bother you. That Cannibal Town - and anywhere else in Pentagram City for that matter - were far worse than this place. Which was true. The only place you could get any peace and quiet was the Wrath Ring - way out in the country. Not that you’d been to the Wrath Ring… Technically…

The attention is finally turned away from you when an array of tendrils shoots from the red demon’s form. They descend upon the blimp, shredding it to pieces. The eggs spark into a panic as their helmsman desperately shouts commands.

Maniac laughs bubble in the demon’s chest as he slowly gets to work. It takes a moment before you realize it, but he isn’t taking his time because he has to, he’s doing it to toy with the snake demon. He enjoys the destruction.

You watch as the tension in the demon’s shoulder slowly diminishes with each attack. The pure enjoyment brings a small smile to your lips.

So this guy enjoys chaos just as much as you do, huh?

“Um… Alastor!”

Ah, so this is the famous Mr. Alastor?

The Princess slowly approaches the demon, but it isn’t fear you smell wafting off her person, it’s… anxiety? “I think he’s had enough.”

Vaggie is on Charlie’s heels in an instant, her hands flying to her back to summon her spear just in case.

So little Ms. Morningstar wasn’t afraid of him, but Vaggie sure as Hell doesn’t trust him. Interesting.

“Nah. He’s got a few more hits in him.” Angel crosses his arms, clearly entertained by the onslaught. Despite the chaotic scene before us, his eyes occasionally flit to the red demon - keeping him within eyesight.

Hmm, Angel didn’t trust him either.

You take a step forward but Angel pulls you back, shaking his head.

The snake demon falls from the zeppelin, landing face first with a smack on the pavement. You couldn’t help but grimace. That had to hurt.

Alastor twirls his staff - microphone? - as an egg falls and breaks into pieces at Charlie’s feet.

“Thanks for another forgettable experience!” He sings.

Okay, that you do laugh at. This guy was pretty witty, you had to give it to him.

The four Hotel Natives shoot you a look of disbelief as you giggle into your hand. Looking between you and the red demon, fear slowly etching across their brows.

Alastor’s shoulders stiffen as he turns, finding the source of giggles rumbling through your chest. His smile is pulled taut across his cheek, but the look he gives you… it wasn’t confusion necessarily swimming behind his eyes, more so like he didn’t know what to think.

The giggles die down as your cheeks heat under his gaze.

Was he not used to people finding him funny?

“Thank you… For letting your guard down!” The snake’s tail whips forward and rips the corner of Alastor’s suit from his person. A small chunk of fabric gives way. “Aha! Yah!” The snake celebrates before noticing the purely demonic smile overcoming the red demon’s face. “Oh, shit…”

The red demon’s antlers grow as an aura of green overtakes the atmosphere. From his microphone an explosion of green bursts through, sending the snake demon flying across Pentagram City.

Hmm… Why didn’t he just kill him? He’s just gonna come back. The mosquitos always do.

“Well, it looks as though I need a visit to the tailor!” The demon inspects his jacket. Despite his jovial attitude, you could see the irritation in his eyebrows.

A mask. This demon was wearing a mask.

Finally, now that the chaos was over, you had a chance to inspect the red demon. He must have felt your eyes on him, for when he finally looked up, his gaze was locked with yours. Your cheeks heated under the pressure of his gaze. His eyes, glowing like red crystal in direct sunlight, made your legs feel heavy and your chest tight.

Was it getting harder to breathe or was it just you? Are you… Are you intimidated right now? No. You’ve never been intimidated by a demon in your life. Angels maybe, but never a Human Sinner. What was wrong with you?

“And who might this be?” Your heart fluttered at the purr in his voice.

Twirling his microphone behind his back, he took a step towards you, standing tall at his full height. He had to be an entire foot taller than you, now cast in his shadow. It felt eerily colder in the shade, but there was something else there too. An extra presence you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

The demon was dressed to the nines. His red suit perfectly tailored to his form. It splayed out around his hips, accentuating a waist line supporting a broad chest. His hair was cropped short around his angular face, his eyes half-lidded as they bore into you. The red of his irises practically glowing. He was a classy demon, clearly not of this century. He regarded you with a sense of curiosity - an aura of green still lingered, however. It was meant to intimidate you, not necessarily threaten you.

Okay, this guy thinks he’s tough shit, huh?

Before Charlie had a chance to intervene, you thrust your arm forward, meeting his eyes, not backing down to his overwhelming sense of self importance.

“Thestral, pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Alastor.” You offer him a soft smile.

You took the shift of stiffness in his shoulders to mean that you had made the wrong move. This was a demon who carried himself quite highly - probably used to lesser demons cowering in his presence, not laughing at his jokes or meeting his eyeline let alone offering their hand first. At that, he didn’t know what to make of you, which made you dangerous. Which made you a target of interest.

Shit.

Day one and you’re already fucking up the whole “lay low” part of the plan.

“Oh, darling, you flatter me,” he takes your hand. “Just Alastor will do.”

A shiver rolls down your spine as the tips of his claws scrape across your skin, so sharp they could cut flesh. They probably have, but you weren’t worried. He couldn’t hurt you anyway. Not really.

“Well, ‘Just Alastor,’ thank you for the entertainment.” You cross both arms behind your back mimicking his stance. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Angel’s jaw drop.

“Of course! I live to please! I’m not the Hotel Manager for nothing!” There it is again, a small shift in his body language. He didn’t know what to make of your lack of fear.

The static is interrupted by a laugh track, sounding as if from a live studio audience - from a radio.

“So does that mean you’re going to do you’re job?” Vaggie takes a step forward, motioning to the half destroyed wall of the Hotel.

“Of course! Can’t let my new project fall into disrepair already! What would the papers say?” With a snap of his fingers, black ink demons appear with construction tools.

Five. Five faceless demons. Which means he owns at least five souls. But that was not nearly enough power to equate to the destruction you had just witnessed.

By the time you turn back to him, he’s already strolling down the cobblestone path and off into Pentagram City. You couldn’t help still feeling watched, however, like the sensation of his red eyes still on your form, but nowhere to be found.

You spun but again, no one was watching you.

“Word of advice, stay away from him,” Vaggie crosses her arm in Charlie’s, ready to lead her back inside.

“Yeah, Hairclip,” Angel Dust appears behind you, poking at the silver metal in your hair. “You got a lot of balls on you to stand up to that one.”

“What does that mean?” You scrunch your nose in confusion.

“Well…” Charlie takes a step forward, touching the tips of her fingers together with anxiety. “Alastor can be a little…”

Before she has a chance to respond, Vaggie and Angel offer suggestions.

“Creepy.”

“Unpredictable.”

“Insane.”

“Murderous.”

“Bloodthirsty.”

“Aren’t those basically the same thing?” Angel shrugs.

“He’s a bad boy,” Nifty chirps by your ankle.

Where did she come from?

“Temperamental,” Charlie offers with an awkward smile.

Why did that not feel like a compromising adjective?

“The point is, Alastor is dangerous. It would be best not to poke and prod him too much,” Vaggie runs a hand through her ridiculously long hair, huffing.

Poke and prod… Shit! Shit! Shit! That force I felt slap my power away earlier, was that him? Did he know it was me? No! No! No! This wasn’t good. This was anything but good.

The blood melted from your face.

“Hey toots, you don’t look so good. Maybe we should get ya’ back inside?” Angel’s arm comes to rest on your shoulder, leading you towards the doors. “Don’t sweat it too much. He’s harmless as long as you’re not a threat. He won’t lay a finger on ya’, we won’t let him. Right gurls?”

“Right.” They chime as you made your way through the double doors.

This job just got a lot more complicated…

SCREECH!

“What the fuck is that?” Husk yells from behind the bar, his claws over his ears.

The television by the fireplace hisses, having turned itself on.

“Welcome home!” The box sang. “I’m going to make you wish that you stayed gone!”

The screen jumped through a few stations of fuzz before settling on a news broadcast. Vox, the media demon, sat behind a reporter’s desk, going on and on about… the Radio Demon?

As if in response, the radio in the foyer screams to life, making the five of you jump.

“Salutations! Good to be back on the air!” You recognized the old timey voice as Alastor’s.

“What the fuck is goin’ on!?”Angel screamed over the noise.

Vaggie ran over to the television and ripped the cord out of the wall. No good, the television continued to flash images of Vox screaming as if he could hear and respond to Alastor’s radio.

The Exorcist fisted the cord in frustration before pulling her spear from the Void. Charlie stopped her, however, preventing her from destroying the only piece of real technology in this building besides the coffee maker.

The Hotel Natives and you were subjected to the torture that was Alastor’s and Vox’s tantrum, until finally, they both shut down.

“Holy Jesus, what the fuck was all that about?” Angel screamed, his ears ringing from the noise.

“Fucking Vox and his ego,” Husk grumbled from the bar. The cat poured himself a drink.

“Ahhhhhh!” A eardrum splitting scream pierced the air, making you all, yet again, jump and cover your ears. Vaggie ran to the radio and shut it off rescuing whatever was left of your hearing from… well, whatever the fuck that was.

“Was that part of Alastor’s bit?” Angel asked the room.

No one answered, for no one knew the answer. Seems Alastor is a big mystery around here.

“Drink anyone?” Husk raised a bottle of whiskey in question.

Fuck, after that you needed one. Silently cursing yourself for your lack of thoroughness in your research, you joined the bar cat.

You huffed as you sat on the stool.

“You good?” Husk asked, pulling out a menu.

“Yeah,” you rubbed your temples, willing the forming headache away. “Just a lot of homework to do.”

____________________________________________

It was late, the sky turning towards darkness as opposed to its usual red light.

The Greed Ring always smelled like metal to you. Not copper, like blood, but like the cold steel of coins. You weren’t in the Greed Ring, of course. Sinners couldn’t travel out of Pride - technically. Yet the stench clung to them nevertheless.

You landed at the bottom of the cement path leading to the mansion, outside the gates.

Normally your meetups were discreet, often conducted in the shadows of terraces, rooftops, or alleyways. Oh so rarely did people invite you inside.

But not this time. This employer loved appearances so much so that he rented out a mansion on the edge of town just for this: a meeting that would last five, ten minutes tops. The vanity of Greed…

The demons next to you jumped as black smoke began to curl away revealing a hooded figure.

“I believe I am expected,” a deep voice growled from beneath the fabric. Concealed in shadow, the shark demons opened the gate to let you pass, their guns shaking in their hands. Nearing the door, another set of demons stepped to the side, their eyes filled with fear.

Ugh, how you so enjoyed the scent of terror as it wafted in waves from their forms. Pathetic, honestly.

You found Crimson sitting before his fire, a glass of whiskey in hand, his hat set on the table next to him. The imp rubbed the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb, clearly it had been a long day. The servant standing next to him, whiskey bottle and towel in hand, leans down to alert him of your presence.

“Huh? What?” The crime lord jumps to his feet. “Already!?” He lets out a joyous laugh, before finding his hat and setting it between his horns.

Out of the corner of your eye, the waiter slinks from the room. The liquid in the whiskey bottle jostling as he shakes in fear.

“Chaz is swimming with the fishes already, aye!?” Both hands grabbing the lapels of his suit jacket, he stands before you, offering you a seat at the end of the table. Sliding into the head chair, he offers you a drink, which you refuse of course.

He takes a long sip of his whiskey, letting the burn sink in before continuing. “Did he suffer?”

You frowned. No questions. He knew this. That was part of the deal. It was always part of the deal.

“Ah, come on, can’t fault a guy for trying?” He laughs, but you aren’t amused.

As if on cue, a shark demon enters the room, dropping a suitcase onto the table before skittering out of the room. Crim opens the case and turns it towards you to reveal fat stacks of cash lining the case’s bottom.

“It’s all there, I assure you.” He lights a cigar and leans back in his chair. “Pentagram City currency, not the Native stuff.”

You ignore the money. You knew it was all there. You knew none of the bills were traceable. Crim was a pro when it came to moving money around. You didn’t have to worry about covering your tracks from this job like the last ones. Honestly, you didn’t deal in money that often. Your trade was in souls, but Crimson was a Hellborn, and head of a mafia gang at that. You’ve never done business with a Hell Native, so you were hoping your reputation was enough of a threat to keep him quiet.

But, the money wasn’t why you took this case.

You narrowed your eyes at him, knowing he could see their yellow glow - the only part of your face anyone ever saw - before slipping a black gloved hand from your cloak. His eyes find your fingers, uncurled before him expectantly, as the scent hits your nose.

Fear.

You knew this diphsit wasn’t stupid enough not to be afraid of you. Was it the sight of your claws? Or the red still staining the leather?

“Right. Right.” He dug into the hidden pocket of his jacket, producing an obsidian calling card. The flames from the fire flicker across its metal surface as he holds it out to you.

Finally, you had won this card back. It had taken forever to track it down after the last person you entrusted it with lost it in a game of cards. Of all the things to wager! You’d have killed the demon, but senseless death wasn’t part of your repertoire.

The card disappeared from the Pride Ring soon after, passing amongst the hands of Hell as it made its way downwards. It eventually became useless, a piece of metallic junk which eventually landed in Crimson’s hand. He figured out what it was, of course he would. He had eyes and ears everywhere - even in the Sinner’s Ring. So when he appeared in Pride a week ago and summoned you in the dead of night you knew you had to do whatever you could to get the calling card back.

Even if it meant taking down a low level mark and solving some petty personal drama. The calling card now safely tucked away in the leather of your shirt, you stood and made your way to the door.

“Ain’t you gonna take the money?” Crim motioned to the suitcase still sitting open on the table.

With a flick of your wrist the case closed, locked itself, and slipped into the Void.

As you exited the room you could hear the imp demon call out after you, “Pleasure doing business with yous!”

Crim was known to be a man of his word, or he’d soon find himself a dead man…

Link to Chapter Two!

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

#alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #reader insert #x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor shadow #smut

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aegagrusscholarship · 4 months ago

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every terminal i've offhandedly referenced in oc lore on discord with my friends. because i am normal.

random facts below the cut:

jerry: one of a few terminals originally put down in hell by a private company (hi @frostaxolotl it's the guys who did project obsidian). kept records and eventually uploaded them onto the network at large. located in a cave in wrath. pronouns whatever he doesn't care

sal: mad scientist type beat. helped another terminal develop a way to upload itself into another machine on the condition that they could do whatever with the result once the other terminal was done. uses said code to shove viruses onto machines that hook up to them for cybergrinding, just to see what happens. really really really likes fish. has a salmon with legs shimeiji on their screen at all times. someone dumped a labcoat on them once and it hasn't been moved since. located in an industrial building in one of the warzones of violence. they/it

69: pirated a lot of media for the terminal network back when they'd been abandoned by humanity, but humanity was still, y'know, alive. and the internet was therefore still online. refuses to let anyone repair her for whatever reason. located in the mouth of hell. she/her

TT: one of the terminals that kept the hell network's internet gateway up and running. eventually paid a random passing machine in points to paint her. okay look she's just rose homestuck except ultrakill edition. located in/near a cathedral of limbo. she/her

cloud: it's a joke on cloud storage and that is all you need to know. organizes and files all the data/files that have been shared to the terminal network as a whole. also archives any data that other terminals do not want to host on themselves anymore, so a lot of its memory is dedicated to random reports that no one actually cares about. located on one of the boardwalks in wrath, close by to a cabin. it/he/they

duck: one of the terminals behind getting the hell network internet access. too far away from the surface physically to do it himself though, so he just sends programs and theory to terminals who can actually get reception. almost always has ascii art on his screen instead of the tip of the day. located near the bottom of limbo, in a carpeted hall of a cathedral. she/he

miku: yes they're named after that miku. likes vocaloid (duh). particularly lonely and is more likely to strike up a conversation with passing machines than they are to actually do any terminal functions. located in a building in lust that should be an insanely high-traffic zone, but everyone and their mother realizes that and so most machines actually avoid it to minimize risk. this, paradoxically, makes said building one of the least-visited areas, which also means that miku has very little interaction ever. they/she

irukandji: judgy asshole who insulted the terminal mentioned above (the one that decided to download itself into another machine to explore hell on its own). thanks @salt216000 located in gluttony somewhere fleshy, hence all the blood. nameself pronouns ++ it/its

#ultrakill #ultrakill oc #ultrakill terminal #i mostly just decided to make these guys designs to see if i could make 'this is a box with a screen' into recognizable characters #aaaand then they all refused to leave my brain so i guess i just have a gang of background characters now

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eeboshmeebo · 3 months ago

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🕰️I missed you!🕰️

Pro Hero Monoma x Reader

Short. I was sparked by a song.

@jyohan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You snuck around, diving into darker areas and parts of the crowd that helped you blend in, your objective being the Hero Agency up in front that was blocked off with lots of people on guard, even the civilians were wary, let alone the ones wearing merchandise with stopwatches on them...

Bypassing the crowd of fans, taking the fire escape stairs up the back of the building, nodding to a sidekick and entering through the back door, you made your way closer to your goal.

The employees already knew what was going to happen, but they ignored you as you passed them by in a rush. One even sighed as you almost tripped them and hastily apologized as you kept running.

They all knew...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...that something inevitable would happen.

And it did.

"DAAAAAAARLIIIIIING~!"

Along with that cry were the exasperated groans of Battlefist with her tean, who was visiting to do a check up on Monoma's behavior, and the rest of the sidekicks. And the defeated mumbles of the crowd outside, because the agency didn't really have great sound insulation.

"Oh! My love! I should've noticed!"

Following that was a crash, inciting the technician who just finished up repairing the computers in the PR room to twitch in irritation before an intern went to calm him down.

"Poor mister Atsu..."

"He gets a bonus for all of that, even if he has such a stressful workload. What do you think they broke this time?"

"...he's going to have a heart attack."

Poor Atsu. He looked like he was going to have a vein visibly pop out of stress.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, you cuddled into your beloved's arms with the remains of a computer to the side. On the floor. Luckily, there was a very nice carpet underneath.

"I missed you so much, Nene! You didn't come back for such a long time, I was getting worried!" You protested a bit, before nuzzling your face into his suit.

"I'm sorry, my love! I had to go to a different prefecture to deal with the villain, but I'll try to make sure to let you know next time, okay?"

Neito Monoma, better known as Phantom Thief, had wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head with an endeared smile on his face. He lifted your chin to look up at him, though he was craning his neck to look back at you.

"I promise, my little jewel."

"Promise? Then you've gotta seal that promise... with a kiss!"

You both giggled at that, sitting upright as you cupped his face with your hands.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto your lips, and you kept a close hold on nis necktie-

"Dear Kami-sama."

The kiss was broken off immediately as a whispered prayer came from the technician, who had just opened the door. His eyes were locked onto the unfortunate computer and its PC, which somehow didn't land on the carpet. The computer itself was mostly fine, but the PC was... well, in short, it was a goner.

Like the technician.

He had fainted while standing up, causing an employee to call the medical department in the agency so he won't accidentally hurt himself when he fell over eventually.

"...oops."

"Hey, Awase-san? Can you remind me to schedule a raise for Atsu-san?"

Welder, or Awase, was one of the people Battlefist had brought over for the visit. He clenched a hand at the sight of the technician.

"Yeah. He deserves it, with how much stuff you guys break."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Outside, the fans knew they had failed. There was a small challenge that if someone could stop Phantom Thief's lover, he'd finally hold a meet-and-greet with his fans. Judging by the happy voices inside, they had failed.

So, they leave in defeat, but they'll try again another day.

Oh yeah, and mister Atsu recovered. He's ranting to the nurses as they make sure he's alright.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#monoma neito #neito monoma #mha monoma #bnha monoma #monoma #monoma x reader #neito monoma x reader #mha neito #my writing

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starsxblazing · 9 months ago

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Iridescence

I was listening to Iridescent by Linkin Park and all of the ideas for this AU were impossible to get out of my brain so this is what I pumped out within thirty minutes

Summary: Living in the slums of San Antonio, your train wreck of a life with your abusive boyfriend seems to be never ending. A new neighbor slowly pulls your attention towards him.

Warnings: descriptions of domestic violence, drugs, abuse, violence, description of blood and gore, death, personality disorders, depression, angst. So much angst.

Azriel x Reader

You sat in front of your full-length mirror propped on the floor, flinching when the front door to your trailer slammed shut, before examining the bruises covering your face. It had been a miracle that you had learned how to use makeup enough to cover up the evidence so that no one asked any questions. There were no longer any voiced concerns from anyone that you worked with or the only person that you had left in your life that you could consider a friend and it was a small relief.

Memories and thoughts turned over in your mind as you started the task of covering up the bruises adorning different parts of your face, searching to figure out where things went so wrong. Your relationship with James had been going on since you were sixteen and it had been tumultuous at the very least. He had always been on a downward spiral but you always kept the hope that he would be the person that you knew he had the potential to be.

His attitude had gotten even worse since the move. The small town that you both grew up in had a high crime rate that always made you afraid to do anything and there was a terrible problem with the lack of jobs. The latter was the biggest reason that you had moved to San Antonio once you had been accepted into one of the colleges here. You had been in the top five of your class, more than earning your bachelor’s degree in business. Despite your majors of finance and human resources, you struggled to find a good job in a good company.

Your two minimum wage jobs were barely enough to keep you afloat which resulted in the tiny, rundown trailer park that you now resided in. James refused to find work of his own and when he did, his employment never lasted long. It didn’t take a genius to know that he was purposely sabotaging his opportunities and making a bad name for himself but there wasn’t anything that you could do about it.

The fight that started as soon as you got off of work had lasted throughout the entire night all of the way up until he finally just left to do whatever it was that he did. You were exhausted and didn’t know how you were going to make it through your eight hours in the factory and then the retail job that you had immediately after.

Your car was just as bad as your home, nothing but a simple rust bucket that decided on its own some days to not start. Every wrong noise came from it during your commute to work and you couldn’t help but wonder just how long that it would last. The thought spiraled your depression further because you didn’t have the money to make any payments on even the cheapest of cars, unable to even afford to get any repairs that needed to be taken care of.

You forced the thoughts away while throwing on the simple t-shirt and a pair of jeans before slipping on your steel toed shoes and looking around your room, unable to linger on the many holes in the walls. The entirety of the small area constantly smelled of mildew, the leak in the roof from rain that followed the dense dry heat only making it worse by the day. What you could tell was once white carpet was now brown and littered with black spots that caused the putrid odor.

The bed, if you could even call it that, wasn’t in much better condition. The mattress, which was second hand, sat on the floor since you weren’t able to afford any form of a bedframe. You had gone without eating for almost a week simply by buying your also second hand couch that was barely usable. The small journal that was now on the floor from James’s violent outburst had been knocked from the tiny dresser and caught your eye just as you were about to leave.

As you flipped through it, your heart dropped at the list of bills and the ones that were due in just a few days. Your bank account had been drained yet again by your boyfriend and there was no way that you weren’t going to be past due. The thought brought tears to your eyes because it would only cost you even more money that you didn’t have. You cursed the horrible economy and the overpriced hell hole that you lived in.

Making your way into the small living room/kitchen combo area of your trailer, you stopped to look at the thermostat. A snort left you at the irony because it didn’t belong there. It wasn’t like it had worked since you had moved in five years ago. The common sight of a scurrying mouse from the corner of your eye pulled your attention to it just before it ran across your feet and through a hole at the bottom of the wall. A variety of roaches scattered across the walls from your presence but that was also nothing new.

Dirty dishes were piled in the sink, causing you to sigh because that had been another point of your argument from the night before. James didn’t work or contribute anything to the house. Not even cleaning. You were hardly ever there so it wasn’t like any of it was your mess to begin with. It was a never ending futile battle but it never failed to bug you at the end of the day in your exhaustion.

Your next task was searching for your phone and car keys, which had been thrown somewhere in the process. It had been hard at the time to know what he did with them since your vision had blurred at the time from where James had elbowed you in the nose. To the best of your knowledge, your keys were in the front yard somewhere but your phone was a different story. The broken window that overlooked the backyard told you enough. It was probably somewhere amidst the tall grass that was past due for a cut but your lack of a lawn mower made that impossible to do. It would die soon enough anyway since the cooler air of winter was slowly moving in.

Just as you suspected, your phone was in the damp backyard with the battery completely drained. There was also a new crack on the screen but you couldn’t be bothered to worry about it because it was too close to time for you to leave. Your keys took a bit longer to track down since there were no obvious signs of where they landed.

The sight of a moving truck at the front of the trailer next door pulled your attention away from your task, the new emotion of curiosity a welcome one. Your neighboring trailer was the nicest one in the park but it was far from being considered homey. It was a one bedroom just as all of them were and extremely overpriced for the condition that it was in. You had looked at it before moving into the one that you now lived in and it was in complete working condition, a far cry from being similar to your own.

Your gaze on the sight next door was enough to have you stumbling over the very item that you had forgotten about, nearly causing you to tumble to the ground right as someone was exiting the home. Heat rose to your cheeks when your eyes connected with the man’s across the small yards that you both had. You weren’t sure if it was because of the fact that he almost saw you fall or because he was the most beautiful man that you had ever seen.

Shaking your head to clear it, you snatched up your keys and hoped that you would make it to work without any problems.

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @wisdomofthebrain @nighttimemoonlover

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #azriel acotar

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enpr-ss · 1 year ago

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Tango making decked out 2 and streaming runs is why we have so much etho content. Everyone thank him for giving us hours of behind the scenes of Etho’s videos.

Wait Etho deliberately waits for Tango’s streams to run? Bro?? He’s actually so kind. Using his fandom to get Tango views.

HE SNITCHED TO HYPNO LOL. HE’S SUCH AN EAVESDROPPER.

Gem pops in and the first thing she does is to punch Etho repeatedly. Classic. The Canadian on Canadian violence is real.

Etho planning to punch some bats

AND THE FIRST UNLUCKY EVENT OF HIS RUN! HOW MANY MORE WILL HE FIND? The vex avoiding path change, now the stumble card. He did get a key before 30 seconds though. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone try to lure One Eyed Willie before. ALL THAT FOR 23 FE AGAIN?!

Tango talks so much to Etho during his runs, more than he does to anyone else. Something something expressing the will of the dungeon. Is that why the dungeon likes Etho so much? He talks to it, thus the favor, or is it the other way around? Tango enjoys his runs so much more than anyone else’s, even Hypno’s.

Beast Bites! Man continues to reference the previous decked out. Of course he gets level 3 on his first try. HE GETS A 24 HAHAHA! “Cant have keys and artifact luck etho” -gem. HES STILL GOING TO FARM LEVEL 1 LOL. And then he taunts Gem with keys. He’s such a little shit stirrer.

EVEN THE RAVAGERS LIKE HIM!!! AND HE GETS ETHO WALLED!! He talked so much trash to Gem about her bad key luck and now he has to eat his words. Etho suffers from treasure rng for the first time. AND THEN THE GAME IS LITERALLY RIGGED AGAINST HIM BECAUSE OF MAX TREASURE!!! Etho dungeon difficulty is real. And of course he dies to Miss Management. How ironic. He’s washed up in the river of souls! Gem is so vindicated.

WILLIE AIMBOT! Sure did washed him up in that lake! One eyed on one eyed violence.

HIS KEY LUCK IS INSANE. The dungeons really wants him deeper. AND THE WARDEN IS RIGHT AT THE DOOR. AND HE JUST SNEAKS RIGHT ON BY UNDER IT. “just a little slime boing boing!” What comes out of his mouth even?

“How does he even get an IMPOSSIBLE key” -gem LOL.

Yeah right he’s taking coward’s path he’s gotta be trolling. “Pfft who’re you talking to here” THE SHEER ARROGANCE. I hope he dies to a warden. I hope gem kills him. 24 AGAIN???!!! NOT WORTH!!! HAHAHAHA. Of course he gets out on his second try, on the middle level in the harder area, and of course no hard parkour. HOW DOES HE DO IT?!?!? OH MY GOD!!!

“Cub walked so that Etho could scoot” - chat.

“Gem is great and Etho is epic!” - gem

He’s trying to meta game the rusty repair kit. Of course. “Stop breaking the immersion nerd! Get in there nerd” - gem. Jock on nerd violence.

The “gem is great” is the first superstition lol

He got so much from rusty!!!

“There’s nobody here” *ravager appears having waited for the right moment*

HE GOT 36!!! MAX FOR LEVEL 2!!! dungeon making up for his previous artifacts. His luck strikes again!! LOOT AND SCOOT IN THE SILK ROAD!! AND HE MAKES IT OUT!!! THE LEGEND!!! 5 tomes, what a flex!!!

AND THEN THE DUNGEON JUST ABSOLUTELY SHOWERS HIM WITH TOMES!!! HAHAHAHAH

The dungeon is definitely in yandere love with Etho.

“I want to see my artifact I haven’t found it yet” - gem

“It’s the keys in the dungeon” - etho who just can’t stop saying words. Talk shit get hit my man.

He just keeps breaking the game.

HOW DOES HE ALWAYS GET LOOT AND SCOOT JUST WHEN HE NEEDS IT??? SCRIPTED!! DEUS EX MACHINA!!!! And then he gets overconfident and gets skill issued in the easy part.

So greedy that he broke the game. And he memorized those ravager locations!!!

Saw in a comment that Etho asked about killing cave spiders to farm them for string for carpets / wool to sneak past the wardens and tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if he considered it.

#tango

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omies-odd-writing-spot · 2 months ago

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DOOM Prompt 10

A writing prompt from my doom discord, tied into the Garnets story. This takes place early in the story, before Valen comes. Making John feel old is oddly fun to write

10: “Lily becomes interested in that old box computer on doom dad's desk”

There were far, far too many things to explore in the Fortress with a clear head. Or mostly clear, Lily was still groggy as she just got a shot from one of the little hover drones from medical not long ago. Lily was walking to stay awake, and was not sure how but ended up in the half living, half workshop area.

Lily stared, but Vega had let her in, and she looked around. Just trying to take in what she was seeing. The young woman took a step towards the books, before getting distracted at seeing a familiar plasma rifle on the display wall to her left. Reaching out, having to be careful even with her good left hand, Lily fingered the scar in the grip of her dad’s trusted rifle.

John found it somehow, Lily had not even known where it was on the Platform. It was cleaned and repaired, with the grips shifted just a bit. Likely so he could hold it comfortably instead of her dad’s settings. That was alright though. Lily hoped it could get some good use again in what seemed like the right set of hands.

Being alone for the last few days had Lily used to just (very slowly) wandering around it seemed. Sure talking with Vega and Riggs helped, but it was not quite the same. Lily could not help but think her dad would like it up here. Some views outside the ‘windows’ aside.

She missed her dad, and mom, but the sheer difference of her location both helped a lot, and made her a bit homesick. So Lily distracted herself again by poking around where she was. Finding she had to be a bit careful where she stepped.

The rug on the upper level with her was familiar. Lily had found what seemed like a cleaner one like that was placed in her room down in the gardens. She wondered if there was something like a vacuum on the Fortress. The little horseshoe crab like drones did not seem able to clean carpet.

“How do they…?” Lily started to wonder aloud, the woman puzzling how the little drones cleaned the wide floors on a whole, not spot cleaning.

“What's wrong, Miss Lily?” Vega asked, keeping a close optic on his human charge.

“Nothing wrong,” Lily sat down on the stairs to the lower section. “How do the drones clean the bigger floor space?”

“They spot clean, but for keeping the flooring clean is a different type of drone.” Vega explained, happy that Lily was talking again as it had been a few hours. “There should be two in that room, though they need some repairs that the Slayer has not gotten to.”

“There's a lot of stuff that needs to be done here.” Lily mused, it really was like the platform, but in space. She blinked seeing what might be the mentioned drone, bulky having stopped mid cleaning.

Lily got up to investigate as best she could with her right arm still firmly tucked in the sling.

That's when she noticed the weirdest thing. It looked like a monitor, but clunky and like those blocky computers in the old movies her dad would make Lily and her mom watch with him. Lily blinked, looking confused as she stood up “Where did this come from Vega?”

“I believe it belongs to the Slayer. It was here before I activated into the Fortress’ systems.” Vega explained partly. He had all of the small amount of clearly precious data inside it triple backed up for the Slayer.

“Weird.” Lily noted running her fingers over the shell of the old, if not ancient computer. Lily shifted to look over at the desk area that had the Argenta tech, then looked back to the old computer. “It's like, ancient and out of history class…?”

“It is, though modified from the standard of the time, and not just the power source.” Vega sounded amused, as he saw the Slayer stop short in the still open doorway. Looking startled as if having forgotten that Lily was in the fortress, then frowned at hearing his favored old computer being called ancient.

He was not that old-!

The Slayer made a face as he grunted, remembering at least several, many centuries spent on Argent D'nur before the Divinity Machine.

The Demigod groaned, feeling old again as he walked into the room. Wasn't it enough to make him feel like that on the platform? He caught the scent of oatmeal soap before finding where Lily was looking up at him. It was…

Oddly cute, wide hazel eyes staring up at his bulk from the beside the right side of his work area. What was it that she said…

Rude. John signed and pointed at the girl as he came down the stairs, getting a guilty look back. Before she could say anything he stopped and hooked his right arm around Lily, careful of her right shoulder. Smirking at the startled squeak and half formed protests at being held like a wiggly bag of potatoes.

John reached over to turn on and set a record on the player. Again feeling old but hell with it, it was something new to him in this world.

“Help?” Lily called from under his arm. Squeaking as she was, gently, squished against the solid wall of muscle on his side as the demigod huffed back.

#omie's writing #doomguy #doom fanfiction #doom eternal #doomdad #doom slayer #garnets story

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birdofdawning · 8 months ago

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Pumpkins

Myka Bering and the bank own a house. This is important to the story. It is a small house, but it has a front porch that looks out over a quiet street, and French windows that open onto a small back lawn with an apricot tree in the middle. The house is one-hundred and thirty years old, and in a much better condition now than when Myka Bering had first bought it. Then it was sad and unsightly, with paint peeling off its weatherboards and a tin roof that banged in the wind. When you flicked on the light switch it made noises and when you turned the tap on worrisome things happened. But Myka read renovation books and went to night-classes. She stripped and sanded and repainted the house, replacing its rotting weatherboards. She pulled up the old carpet and polished the floorboards underneath. She hung wallpaper, unjammed windows, replaced panes of glass, and even repaired the plumbing herself. But she got an electrician in to rewire the house; and, though she nailed down the loose pieces of her rusty iron roof herself, she began saving up for a new roof. Now the house is trim and tidy and even smart, in a modest way.

The house is in an old neighbourhood that is currently unfashionable. It still has short, narrow streets lined with telephone poles, which cars are slow to navigate, and a small church or a corner store every few blocks. There are orange trees in some people’s yards and old rusted vehicles in others, each yard separated by a completely different style of fence, or a scraggly hedge, or nothing at all, just a strip of grass. Myka Bering says that that one day, when house prices rise and the area becomes desirable, she will be able to sell her house for considerably more than she paid for it. But after she had built and filled an enormous bookshelf that took up the entire internal wall, spanning from the front windows of the lounge to the end of the small dining room, people had decided that she was probably going to stay.

In the evenings, after she has cleaned her small kitchen, Myka Bering might sit down in an armchair beneath the great bookshelf and read. On Friday and Saturday nights she has a glass of wine and puts cello concertos on the stereo; and if it is warm she will open the French windows in the kitchen and enjoy the scent of orange blossom drifting through the house. Sometimes her friend Abigail will come over and drink wine with her and try and talk her into going out.

“It’s been four years,” Abigail will say, “time to get back on that horse, kid. They’re not all secretly married.”

And Myka will roll her eyes and say “I am perfectly content staying at home.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Abigail will say, “Christ, Mykes. I bet I’m the first person you’ve talked to in days.”

“Not true!” Myka will say, triumphant, “I had an exciting conversation with Mrs Kim about the tinned tomatoes she had on sale yesterday! And anyway,” she will add as Abigail rolled her eyes, “I like living quietly by myself. I count myself lucky to be able to.”

“I’m just jealous,” admits Abigail one evening, “Every week I have to explain to my mother why Josh and I aren’t breeding, and hear statistics on the dwindling fertility rate in women our age.”

“Well, she has to tell you these things because you didn’t become a real doctor.”

“Real doctor my ass,” Abigail mutters, and takes a big sip of wine.

“Kids are nice,” says Myka, who is an aunt. “And other people’s kids, who I can leave with their parents at the end of the day, are the nicest of all.”

And Abigail looks about at the tasteful ornaments and unmarked lounge suite and kilim carpet and finds it hard to imagine children trampling into this oasis of calm.

Myka Bering has done well for herself. When she first started living in the house she would get up at five and rush about, taking breakfast with her to eat as she drove to work in the same old Nissan Bluebird that she had had since college. But now she gets up at seven, turns the radio onto NPR, and leaves it playing as she makes herself a cup of coffee and sits down at her computer in the small office she has set up in the back bedroom. She has replaced her old car with one that she doesn’t have to keep having repaired, and she wears nicer suits on the days when she goes into the city. And after a few years she did indeed hire men to come in and replace the old roof, so that she didn’t have to keep climbing up with her hammer every autumn.

But still she continues to live quietly, sticking to her routine. Perhaps she’s more likely to work late into the evenings instead of sitting in her chair and reading. The walls of the back bedroom-office have slowly accumulated pinned maps and diagrams and lists, and the spare bed has become a place to keep folders and file boxes. Myka buys an oak bookshelf for the room and fills it with heavy textbooks on city design and transport planning, and from time to time as she works she will push her office chair across to the shelf and consult one. But other than these few things the room is sparse. While the rest of the house is filled with lovely rich colours, the back bedroom-office, where she spends so much of her waking time, remains white and utilitarian.

“You’ve become a hermit. It’s very you, but it’s not healthy,” her sister tells her on one of her occasional visits. She lives somewhere far away, and when she arrives she has a suitcase and Myka changes the sheets and opens the windows of the second-best bedroom.

“I have a very nice life,” Myka replies.

“You have a very nice house,” rejoins her sister, “It’s not the same thing.”

And then they will quarrel until one of them cries, or stomps out of the room in a temper, or they both become distracted by a pop song from their adolescence.

“Well, if you’re happy I suppose that’s that,” says Abigail with a sigh as she puts her coat on one evening. “Are you happy?”

“Of course I am,” says Myka.

One winter’s day Myka Bering is woken up by a phone call. She has fallen asleep curled around the folders and file boxes on her spare bed, after spending days and nights working on a difficult project. It takes her several tries to get the phone to work.

“H’llo?” she finally mutters into the device.

“Myka! Where are you!? I’m waiting in Arrivals!” says her sister.

“Arrivals?” yawns Myka.

“Arrivals! At the Denver airport! Holy fuck, Myka, have you missed the fucking plane?”

“Wha’?” says Myka sitting up. “No, that’s tomorrow…”

“It IS tomorrow you idiot!” yells her sister. “How could you lose track of the day!? You!? Have you just spent the whole week in that house not speaking to anyone!? Oh my god, you have haven’t you!?”

Myka runs into her bedroom and begins hastily packing a suitcase while her sister continues shouting in a tinny voice that she certainly isn’t going to tell their parents that Myka won’t be making it to Thanksgiving, and that Myka needs to sort her life out.

“My life is fine,” mutters Myka as she grabs her keys and drags her suitcase out to the car.

But perhaps it is time Myka Bering’s life had a little bit of a shake-up. We’ll start small, though. We’ll open a gate.

Myka Bering does not consider herself much of a gardener. This is important too. I suspect the deficit is due more to a lack of interest than a lack of ability, because I believe that Myka can do anything she puts her mind to.

But instead she pays Mr Jackson to keep the strip of front lawn tidy and to mow the grass around the apricot tree every other week. And because she mostly works from home now, when he arrives she will leave the back bedroom-office and help him shift the wooden lawn furniture she keeps under the tree into the driveway, and then back again when he is finished.

The back lawn is perfect. It is flat and even, largely because she had hired a roller in her first year in the house, and had spent several Saturdays onerously rolling the ground flat. In the spring and summer, before Mr Jackson is due to cut it, the grass in the back yard grows almost long, with dandelions and clover flowers everywhere and bees happily wandering about. On sunny evenings Myka Bering sits outside in a lawn chair under the apricot tree, and has her dinner and reads.

Other than the tree — and a small shed tucked up against the back fence — the lawn spreads out to the fence line, unmarred by any hedge or flowerbed. Myka has not grown anything else in the yard in the four years she has lived there, other than some night stock that she planted beside the French windows one year so that the perfume would drift inside the house when she hooked them open in the evenings; but night stock is, of course, an annual, and she didn’t bother replacing it the next year. Myka Bering prefers things neat and tidy and low-maintenance.

Now, decades ago the Alvarado family had lived in the house and had been good friends with the Rojas family in the house next door (that is, until Adriana Rojas ran off to New York with Izzy Alvarado to become Rockettes, thus causing a rupture that was never fully repaired). In the evenings, after supper, the parents would sit together on the front porch of one of the houses and drink beer and talk and listen to the baseball or swing music on the radio, while their children ran up and down the street. And when night fell, and they would call everyone inside and bid each other a good night.

And so, when it came time to replace the old fence between the two properties, Mano Alvarado suggested putting in a gate halfway down, so that the families didn’t always need to walk out onto the street and around every time they wanted to go between the two back yards.

Mano and John Rojas were both builders, and they knew their trade. When they built something, they built it to last for two generations and more. And so the gate still stood there, halfway down the back yard fence, when Myka Bering (and the bank) bought the little house.

Myka had tried the gate once, when she first moved in, and found its old hinges immovable and its latch stuck fast, all fused solid by rust. And deciding that this was as good as a fence she had left it alone. She had painted it, of course, or at least she had painted her side of it; and now it was a fetching bottle green, to match the lawn and the apricot tree. But, not intending to ever use the gate, she didn’t bother replacing the hinges and broken latch, and rarely thought of it again.

And so one afternoon in April Myka Bering is standing in her kitchen putting together a cheese sandwich. It is past three o’clock so she doesn’t allow herself any more coffee, but a snack is permissible. It is spring, and she has the French windows open, and a movement outside makes her look up.

There is a girl in her back yard.

The girl is standing beyond the apricot tree, intently examining a corner of the lawn.

Myka Bering steps out of the house and walks over the perfectly level grass towards her.

“Hello?” she says cautiously, “Can I help you?”

The girl turns to look at her. She is maybe nine? ten? years old and has long, black hair and dark eyes. She is wearing jeans and an adult’s t-shirt that says ‘A WOMAN’S PLACE IS IN THE REVOLUTION’.

“Do you rent?” she asks Myka.

“What?” says Myka.

“Do you rent this house?” says the girl, and then, perhaps supposing that Myka may not be familiar with the concept of renting, she adds: “Does somebody else own your house and you pay them money each week in order to live in it?” She has a vaguely mid-Atlantic accent.

“Oh. No,” says Myka. “I own it. Me and the bank.”

This answer seems to please the girl, though she doesn’t smile. She turns fully around now, so that she faces Myka and holds up an envelope. “Then can I—” she stops, frowns, takes a breath, and starts again “—may I plant pumpkins in your garden?”

Myka blinks. “Well, no. I don’t have a garden… Sorry, who are you? And, uh, where did you come from?”

The girl points with the hand not holding the envelope. The green gate is now ajar.

“How on earth did you manage to open that?” Myka asks. “I was sure it was rusted shut. You live next door? I thought the Menzies were there?”

The girl shrugs. “I don’t know who they are,” she says, “I live there now, with mamma.” She gives an Old World pronunciation to the last word. “Which means we’re neighbours. So can I — may I — plant pumpkins in your garden?”

Myka Bering finds herself looking about for another adult to take over, but her back yard stubbornly persists in containing only the two of them. “Hey, I really don’t know if you should be talking to strangers without your, uh, mamma,” she tries, “You don’t know anything about me. I could be a bad guy.”

“Mamma says it’s perfectly reasonable to speak to people one doesn’t know because otherwise one will never find friends or make one’s way in the world.” announces the girl, “And also that statistically I am in far more danger from family members than strangers,”

“Oh,” says Myka.

The girl nods. “I reminded her that she was my only family member. She said that I would do well to keep that fact in mind.”

Myka looks back at the green gate in the wall.

“So. Mrs Pérez gave everyone in the class pumpkin seeds today, and I want to plant my ones here, please.” The girl, it seems, will not be side-tracked by trivialities like stranger-danger. “She told us that they would be ready by Halloween, and we could make jack o’lanterns.”

“But why can’t you plant them in your back yard?” asks Myka.

With tremendous patience the girl explains. “Because we rent. And Mamma says I can’t dig up the lawn because the landlord mows the lawn himself and he will see. But you don’t rent, and you don’t have anything else growing here, only grass. So can I plant my seeds here?”

Myka Bering tries to think of a reason why the girl couldn’t plant pumpkin seeds in her back yard and fails.

“I… suppose you could,” she says. “Where would you plant them?”

The girl points at the corner she was inspecting. “I thought the pumpkins would be out of the way there.”

Myka examines the spot. It seems as adequate to the purpose as any other.

“Alright,” she says, tentatively, reluctantly. “But right at the edge, okay? I don’t want too much of my lawn dug up.”

The girl nods her agreement. “Thank-you,” she adds, very properly.

“Uh, I think pumpkins need a lot of water. Maybe? You’ll have to look it up. So you’ll have to water them regularly. I’m not going to,” says Myka, trying to regain ground she suspects she has never really had since this conversation began.

“Of course,” says the girl. “I have a watering can.”

“Well then,” says Myka, taking a step towards the garden shed, “Um, do you want a spade or…?”

“I have a trowel,” says the girl. “I only want to make small holes and drop each seed in. You don’t want your lawn dug up,” she reminds Myka.

“No,” says Myka. “I don’t. Well, uh. Okay. G’bye, then.”

“Good-bye,” says the girl, who is already turning towards the green gate in the fence, presumably to fetch her trowel.

Myka watches her disappear and then looks about the back yard. Everything appears quite normal, but she feels a faint apprehension of an approaching change... still beyond the horizon, but inexorably on its way, like the pressure drop before a thunderstorm. After a moment she shakes her head and goes back inside and finishes making her sandwich.

As she carries on with her work that afternoon, Myka Bering occasionally looks out through the window of the back bedroom-office and watches the girl at the end of the yard. The apricot tree obscures much of her activity, but she spends a lot of time carefully digging. And later she has a metal watering can which she judiciously applies to certain spots about her.

That evening Myka goes out to look over the girl’s labours. There, cut into the grass that ran along the fence line, are twelve black holes, each about the diameter of a coffee-cup. Myka looks back at the green gate. It is now shut. Still feeling a little uneasy Myka Bering walks back inside and begins to prepare her dinner.

#myka bering #helena g wells #christina wells #abigail cho #Pumpkins Story #bering and wells #bering & wells

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echodrops · 10 months ago

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The Promises I’m Making (2024)

Sheesh, this year it was even harder than last year to make promises. In particular, I really wanted to focus on promises that wouldn't cost as much money as in prior years, so I tried to steer clear of too many promises that would cost above the basic spending amounts... But it turns out it is really hard to make resolutions if you're broke. 😂

So here's what I'm going with:

2024 Promises

1) Step down from my administrative position and return to being a full-time faculty member. I literally cannot take the clown show that is admin at my work anymore. It is actually killing me.

2) Related to this, redecorate my new office as soon as they decide where they are going to move me.

3) Apply for new jobs!! APPLY FOR NEW JOBS!!!

4) Train my replacement in the chair position well so they are super prepared to take over in fall.

5) Put a new sink/vanity in the downstairs bathroom of the Utah house.

6) Get both bedroom floors sanded in the Utah house upstairs.

7) Finally get rid of the dirt pile in front of the Utah house.

8) Take down the remains of the wooden fence posts at the Utah house.

9) Fully clean out and prepare the Utah house to be rented out to new renters. Hopefully the next people won’t sneak in a parrot that poops all over the floor… RIP…

10) Clean off my back patio/car port area so I can park my car there again.

11) Call the plumber and replace the faucets. Even if I end up having to do it myself.

12) Get the dead tree removed from the Texas house yard and call the internet company to see about the cable around the tree root.

13) Plant roses where the old ones died in front of the Texas house.

14) Replace my CPU fan; the bearings are going out and it’s making an annoying noise.

15) Organize my documents (especially student papers)—my desktop and documents folders give me nightmares just looking at them.

16) Related to that, lose at least 20 pounds. 2020-2023 was not kind to me and the stress eating was real.

17) Do at least one artwork to actually use that paint program I bought.

18) Pay my credit debt down by at least $2000. I’m still paying off the hell year, but I hope I can make progress on this.

19) Buy all the Noragami volumes I am missing and do a complete re-read of Noragami now that the series is finishing up.

20) This is super nerdy, but my bro got me the FFXIV cookbook and made me promise to actually use it, so I guess I’d better at least try to make something from it.

21) Finish at least five books this year.

22) Update HaaH at least once. Please, Echo???

23) Reach the new level cap with all jobs in FFXIV!

24) Go to the graduation ceremony for my family friend.

25) Catch up with hanging up all the charms/pins I’ve gotten recently on my corkboards; these are just sitting in boxes/bags around the house. D;

26) Fully deep clean and vacuum/detail my own car at home. No more of the “It doesn’t make sense to clean it out now; the dog is just going to go back in it.” The dog is always going to go back in it. Clean it, Echo.

27) Help my parents tear out the carpet in my old childhood bedroom.

28) See at least three new species of birds. Doesn’t matter where, just three new ones!

29) Reach 3500 followers. Can I do it? You should follow me if you’re not already; I’m pretty cool. Just sayin’!

30) Cancel all the subscriptions I don’t need. There’s literally no reason to sit around letting companies passively profit off me when I don’t even really use the services/the services keep getting worse while the costs keep going up.

31) Go out on at least a day trip to take pictures with my friend. We haven’t done this in quite some time. I need to touch grass.

32) Repair the lovely one-of-kind ceramic plate that my dog broke with kintsugi. I want to try it at least once!

33) Really look hard for my passport in my house. It’s been missing for like a year and a half now, and I don’t want to have to pay for a new one.

34) Put all the small prints, postcards, and stickers I have collected in my new mini-print books. I can even use up washi tape to decorate too. (Finally, a purpose for the washi tape…)

35) Shred the million pieces of old mail I have lying around the house. I finally got the shredder so it just makes sense to use it.

36) Have more follow-through with chores. It’s not enough to wash the clothes or do the dishes if I then procrastinate on folding the clean laundry and putting the dried dishes back in the cabinets…

37) Put reminders for birthdays and major events in my phone as well as set a monthly reminder to check these promises. Maybe I’ll be able to keep more promises if I look at the list more often throughout the year!

38) Since I can’t afford to go to the salon, spa, etc. too much this year, I should at least do some self-care days at home. Will this be the year I finally manage to use all the fancy scrubs and face masks and bath salts I keep getting from people?

39) Use up one whole notebook. It doesn’t matter what goes in the notebook, but I gotta use the whole thing from cover to cover. I have so many pretty notebooks that never get used just because they’re pretty.

40) Change the burned-out lightbulbs in the recessed lighting in the Texas house ceiling. It’s like twelve feet high and the lightbulb charger stick I bought didn’t work, so I’m going to have to find someone with a ladder. Save me, handyman. Save me.

41) Build the pretty koi paper lantern my brother got me, or the Korean temple model my coworker gave me after his trip to Korea.

42) Actually use the yoga mat I bought forever ago. At least a few times, please???

43) Finish watching the Fruits Basket remake with Kacchan. I think we stopped in the second season, RIP.

44) Spend more time with coworkers—go out to lunch more often.

45) See about removing the PMI from at least one of my house loans to try to save money. I’ve been paying on these loans long enough I shouldn’t need PMI anymore.

46) Practice my German skills (or I guess other language skills?) by translating something at least once a month.

47) Get a new bookshelf. The current ones in both my office and foyer are already overflowing. @_@

48) Make more time to call people and talk on the phone. Texting is not the same. D;

49) Get the new COVID vaccine to stay healthy.

50) I will keep my promises!

Good luck, 2024’s me!

#50 promises #new year's resolutions #irl stuff #Echo is on the struggle bus #literally starting off Day One of the year with a cold #love this for me

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lakegenevacarpetcleaning · 8 days ago

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luxlightly · 11 months ago

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There's so much wrong with the building we live in that calling maintenance about it is mostly pointless. A handyman cannot fix the fact the entire hvac system needs to be replaced. He can't do anything about the fact the entire outside wall of the building needs to be repaired and resealed. There's work that needs to be done that requires a contractor or a specialized technician. And the complex is just never going to do that.

The wall of my roommate's bedroom now lets water in when it rains, flooding the area by the wall. Which doesn't help with our trying to avoid a major mold problem. The maintenance guy gave her a big industrial fan to dry the carpet but that's really all he can do. They raised our rent again this month. 1300 dollars a month. For no heat, no ac, mold, and now flooding every time it rains.

But we can't call anyone about it. If we prove it's not fit to be lived in, we can't legally stay. And they aren't required to give us somewhere else to live. This is by far the cheapest place anywhere around. We can't afford 1600+ a month for somewhere even smaller than this. We have nowhere else to go.

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la-lauren · 7 months ago

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My girlfriend works in entertainment, and it's mostly how I've had such close encounters with as many celebrities as I have since I've been here. (I've otherwise just been in the right place at the right time; our neighborhood seems to attract celebs) Anyway, today, she's working a red carpet event, and both of our apartment elevators went down. This is a big event for her though. It's a once a year thing. It's exciting, it's fun -- but she was trapped in our apartment until 1pm. She was supposed to arrive at 11. Thankfully, 11-2 was mostly orientation and lunch, and her position doesn't have much involved, so she didn't miss too many instructions and was able to seamlessly integrate into her position before guests started arriving. BUT IT'S ALMOST 3PM AND I'M STILL PISSED. I've been on the lease with her since January, and in that time, I've received 12 "elevator down for maintenance" emails. To average once a week broken elevators can't be proper??? THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING TO FIX THIS??? But everything I'm seeing law-wise is just that as long as building management has communicated something about repairs in progress, they have 24 hours to complete the repair.... and they do complete it with 24 hours. But because these outages are never PLANNED, we can't PLAN to be trapped!!! I can't believe this is legal??? Like, I understand things happening now and then, but again -- ONCE A WEEK IS JUST WRONG???? So I'm over here angry typing letters to management, researching laws and building codes and yada yada, seeing what might possibly work. All while knowing that when she says disabled people are treated like lesser citizens, she's right. Do you know how hard that is to agree with when you're looking the person you love in the eyes? Moving isn't exactly an option either because we have a VERY good deal here, and we will never see this price for this amount of space in this area ever again. I wish money didn't dictate everything. I want to give her the world, and I can barely give her my patience.

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mossmusings · 1 year ago

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Wilhelm's Portland Memorial Mausoleum Part 2

Find Part 1 here

As I continued to wander the sprawling corridors of this massive homage to the departed, the building's age and lack of maintenance became more apparent; the floors below street-level weren't only darker due to being half underground, but also because the lights didn't work in much of the building.

I assumed the lights had been turned off to save energy, but I found very few switches that worked. This only added to the desolate and melancholy aura that hung in the air. It's a unique feeling I haven't experienced anywhere else.

Even on a sunny summer afternoon, the darkness closes in quickly if you get too far from a window.

Due to being built into a hill above a wetland (water flowing downhill and all), the mausoleum is in a constant battle against water damage. The carpets hold a varying mix of scents, from mold and mildew to strong chemical cleaners to old floral perfume. The hall below smelled like fresh rain, however.

The lower levels hold some of the oldest crypts and urns, so it's not surprising that the areas less frequently visited are a lower priority on the repair and maintenance list. The sections on higher floors still have sellable spaces and regularly visiting families.

Although the chapel appears to be a separate building, you can access the chapel basement from the 3rd floor of the mausoleum. These urn rooms were much more intimate than the expansive halls I had just came from.

I notice the floor has been redone in this area somewhat recently. I wonder how long it has been since someone has come to visit these resting souls. I hope they appreciated my company.

Follow for Part 3, where we'll continue on to the deepest and darkest levels (it gets a little spooky)!

Find Part 3 here

#architecture #funerary art #ashes urn #gothic #goth aesthetic #gothcore #beauty in decay #photography #my photos #original phography #green witch #victorian #pnw #portland #melancholic #urban exploration

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twilightinanotherlife · 1 year ago

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Invitations Make For Selfish Behavior

[First Day Phenomenon] [Risk & Visions]

Fandom: The Twilight Saga x Life and Death

Pairing: Bella Swan/Edythe Cullen

Rating: Teen

Warning: Blood and blood consumption, grief, and implied homophobia.

Word count: 3,825

Summary: Against her better judgement, Bella accepts Edythe’s offer to be her ride while her car is in the shop. Bella faces bigotry from her classmates, but finds an ally in Jessica Stanley.

January 25, 2005 (Bella’s POV)

I could feel Edythe’s eyes on me as I entered my house. The sound of the door closing was quickly followed by the sound of Edythe’s Volvo pulling out of my unpaved driveway. I forced myself to not peak out the door’s window, less she sees me blushing. I stayed by the door and listened until I heard her car turn off onto the next street. What was it about the bronze-haired goddess that made my slow heart race and my face flush with affection?

I walked down the short front hallway, entered the small dining area, and placed my bag on the small round table in the corner. The walls were wood paneled, and the carpet was dull gray. It was cold in the house, so I tossed some logs into the old furnace that I had walked past on my way into the dining room. Room was a bit of a stretch. The entire house couldn’t have been more than nine hundred and fifty square feet. To the left of the dining area was a kitchenette. From the refrigerator, I pulled out a gallon of cattle’s blood (it was amazing what you could buy at the butcher shop) and poured it into a glass I had produced from the cabinet. Cattle was by no means my favorite, but it would do until I could go hunting and restock my supply of wildlife blood. I settled into the cushioned chair I kept near the furnace. I spent a few moments warming myself and savoring my drink before getting up to search for a phonebook that was lying around here somewhere.

Finally finding it, I returned to my chair and opened the pages to “E” section. I quickly found what I was looking for. “Eagle Auto Repair & Towing”, the auto shop that Edythe had told me had towed mine and Tyler’s vehicles away. I called the number listed. A front desk clerk answered and after explaining who I was and the situation I was put on the line with a mechanic. I was told that my truck wouldn’t be available until Saturday. Holding back a frustrated groan I thanked the mechanic before hanging up. I then tossed the phonebook onto the floor where it landed with a thud. The sound echoed in my ears. To human ears the noise wouldn’t have been noticed, but to my ears the sound vibrated against my skull. It was a nuisance, but I could deal with it.

Back in the kitchen I rinsed out my glass in the sink, washed it, and dried it with the kitchen towel. After which I returned to the dining table where I had placed my bag. I seriously considered forgetting the homework that had been assigned. Surely the teachers would understand why I hadn’t been up to doing it? In the end I decided to just get the work done and over with. It hadn’t taken long at all, and I finished within the hour. I glanced at the wall clock and saw that it was a bit past five pm. So, I returned my books to my bag and myself to the kitchen to throw together a quick dinner of spaghetti and meatballs. After I finished my meal and cleaned the kitchen, I dug out the copy of “Mansfield Park” that I had at a local bookstore. The store’s selections had been low and mostly unappealing, so I was pleasantly surprised to find one of my favorite Jane Austen novels.

It had been over two months since Dad was murdered, since my entire life had been turned upside down, and since then nothing in the world felt right. So, when I found “Mansfield Park” buried among a pile of discount books, I felt closer to Dad than I have in a long time. Charlie Swan had been a simple man. His main goals had been to raise me to be independent and to know that I was loved. And to make the most of his immortal existence. Which meant engaging in the activities he loved most; fishing, baseball and reading. Charlie had been a vampire since 1687 and had found many ways to occupy his time. One of which included reading books. Dad had been partial to horror and mystery novels but had a hidden love for the classics. Such as “Jane Eyre” and “Wuthering Heights.” Then he had me and when I was old enough, he introduced me to his favorite authors and their works. Now, as I turned the pages of my book, I felt my father’s presence.

I methodically turned the pages of the novel, carefully reading each word. Even going back to reread sentences, then paragraphs, and then whole pages. As I read and reread the pages the minutes ticked by. As the minutes turned to hours, I knew that I was prolonging the inevitable lull of sleep. It was my least favorite time of day, or rather night, when I had to sleep. It was the only time when I was completely unguarded. And if that wasn’t bad enough, it was the only time that the nightmares took over. Only they weren’t nightmares but were horrible memories that were far too real.

The wall clock chimed to tell me the hour. Eleven o’clock on the dot. Reluctantly, I put my book away and put out the furnace. The whole house steadily became cooler and cooler. I went through my nightly routine. Which mostly consisted of a long hot shower where I spent most of it scrubbing mercilessly at the crescent scar that disfigured my wrist. For several weeks while on the run I had managed to hide out in a mountain home in Wyoming. It had once been my childhood home where Charlie had taught me how to control my vampire abilities. Dad and I had traveled all over the country since leaving Wyoming, but that place had always felt like home. I felt safe there. That was until James found me. He attacked me and I crippled him by tearing off part of his leg, but not before he managed to sink his teeth into my wrist. The fire of the venom as it coursed through my veins was excruciating, but I wasn’t going to let it stop me from escaping. I knew that the pain wouldn’t last long. It would die down to an annoying sting before my own venom completely eradicated it from my system. So, I forced myself to run. To get as far away from James as possible while he reattached his leg and recovered. Now, the only evidence of my last encounter with the sadistic vampire was my ugly scar.

The water had long been running cold before I turned off the shower. I stepped out and wrapped myself in a fluffy towel. I grabbed the brush and worked it through my hair. It was long, dark, and straighter than I’ve ever been. As I worked the bristles through the strands of hair, I took notice of the various shades that human eyes could never see. Strands of mahogany and bistre wove their way through the brush. All the strands and shades of brown twist together to make the dark brown that my school peers saw. Only under sunlight would they see shades of red. My dark hair contrasted with my cream-colored skin creating a striking effect. The fog cleared from the mirror, and I caught sight of my arms. The muscles underneath my smooth skin were strong and lean. I never considered myself vain, but I knew I was beautiful. I knew that I was just as lovely as a vampire.

I placed the brush down on the bathroom countertop. As usual, not a single thread of hair had tangled itself in the bristles. Perk of having unbreakable hair. I dried off, threw on some flannel pajamas, and brushed my teeth. The venom that coated my teeth was acidic to anything that could possibly stain them, but I liked the tingling clean sensation that spearmint toothpaste left behind. My bedroom was a second story loft space that overlooked the dining area. Just like the living room below, the loft space was carpeted. Though rather than gray the carpet was a faded golden brown. I crawled under the quilt of my bed and forced my eyes to stay open. I did not want to face the horrifying nightmare, but as the rain fell against the windowpane it created a hypnotic effect. Bit by bit my eyelids grew heavy and even with supernatural strength I couldn’t keep them open.

The next morning, I awoke to find that neither James nor Victoria had murdered me in my sleep. I considered that a good start to my day. Once I dragged myself out of bed, I poured myself a bowl of cereal in the kitchen. The room was still dark as the sun hadn’t even risen yet, but thanks to my superior sight the darkness didn’t hinder my movements. The rain from last night had let up but I could still hear the sound of the morning mist against the walls of my house. Sitting at the kitchen counter, I slowly at the bowl of cereal. As I chewed my food, I considered calling Edythe. The clock read six thirty, that wasn’t too early to call right? I knew that she was a vampire, that she didn’t sleep, but she didn’t know that I knew that. Would it really be so bad if she knew I am a vampire-human hybrid? No, it wouldn’t, but getting Edythe =dragged into my troubles and possibly hurt would be. Perhaps it would be best to keep her at arm’s length. I put the empty bowl in the sink and returned to my room. I rummaged through my dresser and pieced together an outfit for the day. Not sure how I managed to take my time selecting an oversized sweater and faded jeans, but I did. It was just after seven as I laced up my boots. School didn’t start for another hour. To pass the time I brewed myself a cup of tea and sat down on the carpeted steps that led to the loft. From there I could see, off in the distance, the first rays of sunlight breakthrough the trees.

As I sipped my tea, I heard the sound of a familiar engine. I smiled to myself. That was Edythe’s car in the distance, speeding toward the town limits. Soon enough I would catch a glimpse of silver as the Volvo turned onto my street. Just as I predicted, I saw Edythe’s car coming down the street at around eight. I placed my empty mug in the sink and grabbed my bag from the dining table where I had left. I then stepped outside, locked the door behind me, to wait for my ride. As Edythe’s pulled into my driveway, I greeted her with a little wave. Thoughts of keeping her at arm’s length seemed to have disappeared from my mind. All I could see was her bright smile lighting up her golden-rod eyes.

“Good morning, Bella.”

“Hey, Edythe,” I replied as I opened the passenger door and got in. “How was your evening? Did you sleep well?” Of course, I knew that she didn’t sleep at all but what can I say other than I think I’m funny?

“My night was pleasant. How did you sleep?”

I noticed that she avoided the question regarding sleep, but I wasn’t going to say anything. “I slept well enough.”

Edythe had started the drive to the high school which was only a few minutes from my house. The time was filled with simple conversation. She asked me if I had gotten in contact with the auto shop. I filled her in on the conversation that had transpired.

“Unfortunately, my truck won’t be available until Saturday. Does your offer to drive me to the shop still stand?”

“Of course. As does my offer to drive you to school for as long as you need me.” Edythe’s eyes widened as she registered what she said. “I mean it. As long as you need it. My help that is.”

I was amused by her ramblings, but I didn’t let it show on my face. Or at least I hope I didn’t. No point in embarrassing the poor girl further. “I understood what you were trying to say. And I appreciate it. You’re sure you don’t mind being my chauffeur for the rest of the week?”

Why wasn’t I turning her down? It was too dangerous for her to get close to me. It’s not like I couldn’t walk. And if it rained, so what? That’s what an umbrella was for.

“I don’t mind at all. Really Bella I’m happy to help you.”

“And your siblings don’t mind? How are they getting to school?”

“They don’t mind. They’ll be taking Rosalie’s car. Trust me, she’s happier driving her own car than sitting in the back seat of mine.”

Edythe turned into the school parking lot which was already filled with the student population. As I stepped out of the car, I felt the eyes of my peers. It must have been quite a sight to see the mysterious new girl with one of the elusive Cullens.

“I’m going to be the talk of the town again.” It wasn’t a question. I already knew my day would be spent fending off questions about yesterday’s accident. Edythe, who had also gotten out of the car, looked around the sea of students.

“I would say so. Would you like me to walk you to your first class? I could fend off any intrusive peers.”

I came so close to turning down her offer, but I just couldn’t do it. As much as I knew it was bad for her to get close to me, I found myself craving her company. So, like a fool I said yes. Edythe and I walked side by side. I took the chance to admire her from my peripheral vision. Edythe was slender and petite, just an inch shy of my five feet and four inches. Her bronze-colored hair was pulled up into a messy twist. Curls fell from the updo to frame her face. She wore a pale lavender sweater that hugged her curves and the color brought out the delicate lavender of her eyelids. If I didn’t know better, I would think that Edythe was wearing eyeshadow. The sleeves were rolled up and the material was too thin to provide any protection from the cold, but I knew the weather didn’t bother her. We stopped in front of Building 3 where my English class is held.

“Would you join me for lunch?” Edythe asked me before we parted ways.

‘Just say no. You can’t get any closer to her than you already have. Say no.’

“Yes. I would like that.” ‘Dammit.’

Edythe smiled at me as if my answer just made her day. “Well then I’ll see at lunch time.”

I simply nodded my reply too afraid I’d say something stupid. The smile remained on Edythe’s face as she bid me a good day. I entered the classroom and took my seat. As the other students filed in Mike stopped by my desk.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Cullen?”

“Edythe? How do you mean?” I had a pretty good idea what he meant, but I wanted to hear him say it.

“You know. You two looked pretty cozy. People will start to talk.”

“Firstly, anything between Edythe and I is nobody else’s business. And if people want to gossip about two teenage girls because their own lives are so boring and unfulfilling then that’s their business. Secondly, the only thing between me and Edythe is kindness and a ride to and from school because your buddy’s reckless driving put my truck in the shop.”

Mike’s blond hair and hyperactive personality made me think of a golden retriever, but that wide eyed and gaping expression on his face brought to mind the image of a goldfish. Mr. Mason, the English teacher, entered the classroom before Mike could respond.

“Mr. Newton please take your seat.” Mike walked away from my desk, still appearing to be in shock. As the remaining students took their seats the school bell rang. I kept myself from cringing at the shrill noise. Truth be told, I had never been to school before now (Dad home-schooled me) and had no idea that a school bell was so loud. It made my ears ring and my head throb. I hated that stupid bell.

The rest of the morning couldn’t go by fast enough. If the student body wasn’t talking about the car crash, they were talking about the rumors that were being spread about Edythe and I. Were humans really so backwards in their beliefs surrounding sexuality? I knew they had negative opinions, but I was so used to the acceptance of vampire law that I didn’t consider how humans viewed the subject. I had never had too before now. The bell that singled the end of fourth period rang and the students rushed out, eager to get to the cafeteria building. I was among the last of my classmates to leave and I was stopped by Jessica.

“Hey Bella. How are you doing today? I hope that all this talk hasn’t gotten you down.”

“Not really. It’s annoying, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to think everyone thinks that way.”

“So, you don’t…” My voice trailed off.

Jessica shook her head, her dark voluminous curls bouncing as she did. “Nope.”

By this point we’d reached the cafeteria and pushed through the doors.

“Are you going to sit with us today?” Jessica asked referring to herself and her classmates whom I had sat with yesterday. “I promise to keep Mike and Lauren off your back.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m actually supposed to sit with Edythe.”

“With just Edythe? Or with all the Cullen-Hales?”

I stopped in my tracks. “I’m not sure.”

Something about sitting with five vampires I didn’t know made me feel incredibly on edge. I began looking around the cafeteria and noticed Jessica doing the same. I spotted the Cullens at their usual table, but Edythe wasn’t with them.

“Bella look.” Jessica directed my attention to the other end of the cafeteria where Edythe sat at a table by herself. She gave me a little wave when she saw me staring. I blushed and waved back.

“Come on Bella, lets go get you some food so you can get your flirt on.” Jessica and I grabbed our food and went our separate ways, but not before she wished me luck. I approached Edythe’s table.

“Is this seat taken?” ‘Smooth Bella.’

“Please, help yourself.”

I sat down in the chair next to Edythe, setting my tray on the table. Edythe grimaced at the food.

“That does not look appetizing at all.”

I looked down at the greasy slice of pizza, salad, and bottled lemonade. “It’s not so bad.” ‘It’s actually worse.’

“Are you sure about that?” Edythe had the cutest lopsided smirk. She couldn’t read my thoughts, but she could clearly read my face. I picked up the greasy pizza. I took a bite and chewed slowly. Gah! What was with school food tasting like cardboard with tomato sauce?

“See, like I said, not so bad. But perhaps I’ll stick to just the salad.”

Edythe chuckled. That’s when I noticed she didn’t have a tray of food. ‘Wonder what her excuse will be?’

“Where’s your lunch, Edythe? Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I had a big breakfast this morning. I’m not very hungry.”

I nodded my head and bit my bottom lip to keep from smirking. I picked up the plastic fork from my tray and dug into my salad. After a few bites and a sip of lemonade Edythe got around to asking the questions I knew she would eventually ask.

“May I be forward, Bella?” I nodded for her to continue. “How did you get out of the way of the van? That was an impossible feat.”

“Just must have been lucky I guess.”

“That was some incredible luck.”

I shrugged. “I had an adrenaline rush. It’s very common in a life-threatening situation.” I ate some more salad and drank some more lemonade. “Was that your only question?”

“I have a few. Were you perhaps bitten by a radioactive spider?” The corners of her lips curled up indicating that she was joking. At least mostly.

“Certainly not.” ‘As if a spider’s pincers could break through my diamond-hard skin.’

“Then perhaps kryptonite is involved?”

“You do know that kryptonite weakens Superman’s powers? It’s not the cause of them.”

“Well, there goes my best theories.”

We laughed together. Ever since I met Edythe, I found myself feeling lighter than I have in a long while. There was a time when I’d didn’t think I’d ever laugh again. Not since Dad…since Dad…

“Bella. Bella!”

I blinked away the tears that had blurred my vision. Tears fell down my cheeks, the intense cold of the venom slightly stinging my skin. Of all the human traits I could’ve inherited, why did crying have to be one of them?

“I’m sorry. I just thought of my dad and I…” I choked on silent sobs and couldn’t get the words out. Most of the town, if not everyone, knew that my dad had died even if they didn’t know the truth of how. They just knew the story I had spread around town.

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” The pad of Edythe’s thumb brushed against my cheek wiping away the tears. A pulse of electricity tingled against my skin. My face warmed with the rush of blood to my cheeks.

“I’m sorry…”

“You do not need to apologize.” Edythe interrupted me. “You have every right to be upset over such a loss. Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m alright. Thank you though.” I wiped away the rest of my tears with the sleeve of my sweater. “What is it we were talking about?”

“You were shooting down my carefully constructed theories.” Edythe lightly teased me.

“Oh, yes. Radioactive spiders and kryptonite. Groundbreaking theories.”

I took a swig of lemonade then used the sleeve of my sweater to wipe away the rest of my tears. The lunch hour continued on without any more waterworks from yours truly. Edythe and I walked to Biology together and after my last class of the day, Edythe was waiting for me outside of the gymnasium. After dropping me off at home she wished me a pleasant evening and sent me away with a promise to see me in the morning.

Only two more days. I could allow myself the pleasure of her company for two more days. What would it hurt?

#the twilight saga #twilight #life and death #twilight au #life and death crossover #bella swan #isabella swan #edythe cullen #edythe x bella #bella x edythe #jessica stanley #twilight fanfiction #vampire hybrid bella #my au #my fanfiction

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