#I Suppose I Had Limited My Thoughts To Those With Two Legs

[pathologicalreid]

litmus test | s.r.

in which Spencer needs your expertise to help solve a murder, but crime fighting is most decidedly not for you

find more chemist!reader here!

who? spencer reid x chemist!reader category: flangst (like. the end is a little angsty and it has case details) content warnings: typical cm violence, science talk, fem!reader, reader is not built for crime, morgan being an older brother, some fun banter!! death by firework is crazy lmao word count: 1.68k a/n: this is one of my favorite fluff pieces i've written in agessss i missed chemist!reader so much i learn so many things when i'm writing her. this was a request! i hope you like it as much as i do!!

“Do you have a second?” Spencer asks, his voice slightly choppy over the phone. Between his ancient phone and being inside concrete police precincts, some disconnect was bound to happen.

Saving your document to your computer, you rest the lab phone between your shoulder and ear, “If you’re asking me if I have any corrosive chemicals in my hands, the answer is no.”

He chuckles lightly, “I never know with you.”

You roll your eyes in response, even if he can’t see you, “It was one time and I needed a new phone case anyway.”

“You fused the plastic of your phone case to the material of your phone,” he retorts far too quickly for your liking.

“Yes,” you acquiesce, “but I know the exact chemical reaction that caused that phenomenon.” You cross your legs one over the other, maintaining your balance on your lab stool as you speak to Spencer over the phone.

He gave a light hum in response, “Speaking of chemical reactions – I need your help.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “You’re asking me for help in chemistry?” There really was a first time for everything, you suppose.

Spencer was more than capable of navigating a lab on his own, even so, he admits, “You have more applied practice than I do.”

Pursing your lips, you nod to yourself, “Fair enough. What’s stumping you, Dr. Reid?” Your inquiry, while innocent enough, garners a wolf whistle from your graduate assistant.

“There’s something burning a hole in these bones, and I’m not sure what would be causing it to happen this fast,” he explains, giving you minor background information on how long the bones were out and if the medical examiner had treated them with something.

You clear your throat, frowning at the notes you had scrawled down in front of you, “Burning or corroding?” What was seemingly a meaningless distinction would actually allow you to filter through approximately half of the possibilities.

“Corroding,” he corrects himself, “My mistake.”

Crossing off some of your notes, you purse your lips at the new possibilities, “No worries. Did you try flushing it out with water?”

You hear papers flipping on his end of the call before you get a response, “That would destroy evidence.”

“Well,” you raise your eyebrows, “It sounds like your evidence is destroying itself.”

“Baby,” Spencer says in a no-nonsense tone reserved for when he was deep in a case. You could’ve sworn you heard Morgan in the background of the call mocking him for the pet name.

Turning back to your notes, you sigh, “Yeah, yeah, all work and no play. Was the body buried?”

“Partially,” his reply intrigues you, “I can have Garcia send you the crime scene photos if you think it’ll help.”

Wrinkling your nose at the thought, you made an unsure sound, “Right, because nothing says lunchtime like getting up close and personal with a homicide victim.”

“What lunchtime? It’s three pm in D.C. right now,” he caught you, a slight chiding tone in his words.

Ignoring his questions, you ask more of your own, “Was the body near water? Did they test the pH of the soil and water?”

There were more papers flipping, likely someone presenting the results of those tests to him, “Yeah, the soil was a five-point two and the water was a seven-point eight,” he listed off for you.

While your knowledge of the pH of the soil in Iowa was limited, you did know that those levels were pretty on par for the northern Mississippi River. “O-kay,” you say, extending your vowels, “and they didn’t find anything else on the scene that points to corrosive materials. Hydrofluoric acid?” You posit, “No, you know what – maybe you should send me those files. My work email is encrypted, you can give it to Penelope.”

He speaks to someone else in the room with him and you resist the urge to ask him if he’s enjoying Iowa, “It’s sent,” he confirms with you.

Pulling up your email only takes a moment, and once you get over the initial shock of seeing a dead body on your computer screen, you lift your lab glasses to the top of your head in order to get a better look. “I mean,” you think for a moment, “those look like alkali burns to me. I’ve never seen them on bones before, but you should do a litmus test to check either way.”

“So, we rinse it with water?” He asks, seeking instruction from you in a way that makes you feel oddly powerful.

Your eyes widen, “No, no, no. If it’s a metal compound then it’ll be covered in a mineral oil, so rinsing it with water would actually make the burn worse.”

Pausing for a moment, you consider the possibility that Spencer didn’t have the luxury of time – he was trying to solve a murder, not do experiments in a lab.

“Alkali burns can be serious, it all depends on what caused them, and most are helped by rinsing with water. So, unless you have the time to test for metal compounds, I’d go ahead and rinse it. You might want to brush the damage to the bones with a dry brush first. If there’s lime on the bones it’ll foam, which not only will corrode the bones even further but it might release a toxic gas,” you have no idea how the corrosion would interact with bone marrow, but something tell you that you don’t want to know

“Wait a minute,” Derek interjects, being included in the conversation now that Spencer put the call on speaker, “I thought things like alkaline water were good for you.”

You scoff instinctively, “Oh, there’s no definitive evidence that shows alkaline water as having any real health benefits. Especially not the benefits that the internet says it has.” Straightening up in your stool, you continue, “In fact, there is evidence from the NIH that says drinking alkaline water could cause kidney damage. There’s a particular-“

“My bad,” he interjects, effectively stopping your rambling before it really took off, “I forgot whose girlfriend I was talking to.”

Groaning at your new vexation, you huff, “Oh, fuck off, Derek. Go kick down a door.”

Spencer quickly switches the phone back, “Thank you, angel.”

Squinting at the photos that were still on your laptop screen, a crude, disturbing thought came to mind, “You know, sparklers can cause alkali burns. It might be something to consider because of the diameter of the burns.”

Your boyfriend was silent on his end of the call for so long that you had to check and make sure the call hadn't dropped. “Did you say sparklers?”

“Yep,” you confirm, “like the ones you can get everywhere this time of year.���

He says something to Morgan, placing his hand over the receiver so you can’t hear, “There’s only one spot in this town, though. I’ve gotta go, see you soon.”

“Stay safe, please! I prefer your bones unburned,” you rattle off into the phone before it clicks, placing the phone back on the stand and deleting the crime scene photos from your inbox.

The front door to the apartment opens and shuts quietly, with Spencer under the assumption that you already went to bed, he was surprised to find you on the couch, nursing a cup of tea. “Hey, baby,” he chirps, unusually peppy for this time of night.

“Hey,” you say half-heartedly, threading your fingers through the handle of the mug.

Your somber tone gets Spencer’s attention, “What’s wrong?”

The slight panic in his voice causes your eyes to snap up to his, “Nothing,” you murmur. “It’s just… the woman who was in those pictures. There- the burns on her bones, they were signs of torture, weren’t they?”

You’d been thinking about the burns ever since Spencer showed them to you, “Yes,” he answers with a reciprocating softness, sitting down next to you on the couch. “The medical examiner concluded that she was burned antemortem.”

That woman had been burned alive by fireworks, sparklers had seared their way through skin and muscle until it finally met her bones. You blink a few tears from your eyes at the thought, “I like my lab, Spence.”

The confusion on his face was palpable, “I know you do.”

“I like my minimal human interaction and my chemicals, and I like knowing why certain things cause certain reactions. I like it when things make sense.” You take a deep, shaky breath, “Killing someone. Torturing someone with fireworks. That just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You had no interest in hearing the excuses that the killer had provided. You had no interest in hearing the psychological breakdown of that woman’s killer. Spencer knows that, “The photos got to you?”

Taking a sip from your mug, you nod solemnly, “I can’t stop thinking about the way it must have felt. Oh, the smell must have been horrible. That poor woman.” In theory, it was a ridiculous notion, killing someone with fireworks seemed neither probable nor possible. Yet here you are.

“But we got the person who killed her,” Spencer reassures you, resting his hand gently on your knee. “We couldn’t have done it without you,” he adds.

Your face warms at his compliment, “I wish I could have helped before she was killed.” You were grateful that Spencer hadn’t passed on any personal information about the woman, it was easier for you if you kept things in separate storage files in your mind.

Spencer hums, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “There’s always going to be another one. I’m sorry about the photos, I should’ve made sure Garcia only sent the necessary ones.”

Nodding absentmindedly, you look at him thoughtfully, “This will pass, but for tonight I just feel bad for the victim.”

“I can have Penelope share some of her favorite baby animal videos, if you’d like,” he offers softly, resting his head on your shoulder.

In return, you give him a small smile, “Well, I suppose it really can’t hurt.”

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Triple Dog Dare You (Astarion x F!Reader) (Part 2 to Pinkie Promise)

CW: Angst, mentions of trauma, mentions of sexual trauma, mentions of bullying, mentions of parental death, mentions of domestic violence, mentions of voyeurism

Both titles have been inspired by the song ‘School Nights’ by Chappell Roan

Dedicated to @amica-aenigmata-naboo - thank you for demanding a part two 😂

Part 1: Pinkie Promise?

✨this has been proof read once and I have been awake and working since 3 am. It is not 10:04 pm. Please help✨

You finish your letter by folding it into thirds and then writing ‘Star’ on the back. You take a deep breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth- reminding yourself that you already know he likes you back, you are just taking that last extra little step. You also can’t attempt to write this letter again- this is your 8th draft, the others turning into flames in your hands very quickly.

You want to ask Astarion to be in a serious relationship with you. You have only been seeing each other (as far as you know) and you’ve spent almost everyday sleeping with him in his tent since you had ventured into the Underdark. Most of the time- you don’t even have sex. You stay up talking together and sharing soft kisses- no clothes, just intimacy. You adore those moments immensely.

Life around camp has also been good- everyone is finally beginning to get along. Shadowheart and Lae’zel even silently respect each other now. It feels like one big happy family and you are grateful for them when this whole journey feels far too big and scary.

Recently, you and your crew have been playing an ongoing game of “Triple Dog Dare”. The only rule is you can’t dare someone in the middle of a battle or a serious mission. Otherwise- it’s all fair game and if you decline to do it, you have to take the darers’ guard duty or help them with a chore. The chores were limited to one task and it can’t be taking down a whole tent + equipment- the one time Astarion had to take down Gale’s tent had been disastrous. The dare had been to allow Gale to take you on a date- Astarion shot back with a “I triple dog dare you to swallow my fucking knife wizard.” All parties (minus Astarion) agreed that this dare was not to be followed through on.

The game has had… less than favorable results. Watching Wyll and Karlach streak across the camp while you were piss drunk was awful. Oh and the time Gale almost died because Wyll dared him to spy on the two of you for 20 minutes. You hadn’t heard his thoughts, but Astarion had. His head had shot up from between your legs with a furious look in his eyes. Astarion had covered your naked frame up quickly with his shirt (his trousers still on) and chased after Gale until he pushed the man into the freezing Underdark water.

The group then had to make a few more rules people didn’t realize they had to make. In Gale’s defense- Wyll didn’t specify and Wyll is a real snob about which chore he gives the person. It’s also the worst chore and usually includes de-stinking his boots. You are almost positive Wyll does this on purpose as repayment for all the headaches this groups’ shenanigans has given him-oh and the horns.

Karlach triple dog dared you today to finally confess your feelings to Astarion. You had gawked at her and then dared her to do the same with Dammon. You shook on it and it was done.

Finding out that Astarion’s life is in far more danger than any of them had realized shook you to your core. You are tired of wasting time being afraid to ask him what you already know (or at least hope you know). You are silently grateful that Karlach has given you the push you needed (you doubt she would have actually made you do anything- she wouldn’t put you on blast like that).

It just never felt like the right time in the past. Having your life be in constant danger is kind of a romance killer and you aren’t sure how the hell you are supposed to do this.

Do you court him? Do you ask him to court you?

You ultimately settled on just flat out telling him your feelings- politics be damned. It’s not like you were welcome in High Society anyway.

Now you are in the safety of Last Light Inn and it feels like the right time to bring this up. You worry that waiting any longer will result in him looking for someone more serious or maybe you would always just be a person he slept with during the journey to his freedom.

You hope you are more than that and you are almost positive you are. The way he looks at you, kisses you, and talks to you is so genuine- his eyes are always so soft and so are his lips. He protects you and you protect him. You adore him and you think he adores you too.

So naturally, walking up behind him and Shadowheart talking isn’t a nerve wracking endeavor to you. This is all going to go off without a hitch!

Or so you thought.

Your ears twitch and you barely hear what they say to each other, but you do. Gods you wish you hadn’t.

“You are insufferable, Cleric.” Astarion groans, “I already told you my answer.”

“Oh please- you follow them around like a lovesick puppy. You can’t honestly tell me you have absolutely no feelings for them.”

Shadowheart takes a long sip of her pint and raises an eyebrow at him. You remain in the shadow- your heart thumping out of your chest. Maybe he’ll say a lot of wonderful things about you? Maybe your hopes will be-

“Nope, not a single feeling outside of my carnal desires,” he says nonchalantly, “that’s all it’s been and they know that.”

Oh.

You feel all the air leave your lungs as you crumple your letter and shove it in your pocket. You don’t know why you insist on listening further.

“Then I triple dog dare you to go talk to someone and take them to bed. You will have no problem bedding that Harper who keeps giving you ‘fuck me’ eyes- I’m sure.”

Oh please no.

“You offend me- that’s hardly a challenge,” he says while standing up, sauntering over to the Harper that is eyeing him.

You promptly turn around and hurry out of the building. You can’t breathe. You should have known better.

You had always been Tav the Guillable, the Plain, the Insufferable, etc, etc. You had been thrown at your aunt and uncle when your parents passed. Your aunt and uncle lived in a nice Human only city and you are a ‘filthy half-breed.’

One of the boys in your Archery class found out you had a crush on him so he asked you to meet him by the river. You showed up with wild flowers for him- something your mother told you Wood Elf’s do to show affection. He showed up with your entire class- all of them laughing at you for being stupid enough to believe he liked you and then his future partner beat the shit out of you before throwing you into the rushing water. You wished you hadn’t survived, but a nice family who was tolerant towards Half breeds saved you. Your Aunt and Uncle were pissed. Admittedly, so were you.

They treated you terribly- constantly trying to marry you off to old men who you would turn away with your boorish behavior.

You really thought you had it right this time. Everything felt so natural and right- like you had been made for each other. What did you not pick up on? What did you miss this whole time? How could you have been so blind?

You pick up your bedroll on the way out- you were all going to sleep on the floor of the inn with the rest of the Harpers and Refugees, but you couldn’t pretend you wanted to be near Astarion like he does with you. You aren’t ready to confront him- you aren’t ready for the pretty illusion to be completely shattered and swept under the rug yet. You were just getting used to being someone he loved and now the whole world is crumbling underneath you.

It was barely anything- obviously- so why does it hurt this much?

You find yourself in front of Damon’s metal shop and he’s talking to Karlach. You clear your throat and they both look at you. Karlach suddenly looks concerned when she sees the look on your face.

“Could I sleep above your shop tonight?” You say with a strained voice, “behind the hay? I just… need to be alone.”

“Sure thing- it’s all yours.”

You smile gratefully at him and begin to climb up the ladder.

“Do you want me to tell Fangs, Soldier?”

You can hear the question in her voice. She is your best friend after all.

“No- please don’t,” you smile at her sadly, “I would prefer he doesn’t know where I am.”

Karlach nods in understanding, giving you a sad smile, and you go behind the hay and lay out your bedroll. It smells like him and you don’t know if that’s helping or hurting at this point, but you are mostly too tired to care.

Your heart hurts as you try to find sleep. You throw the crumpled note across the little loft and silently begin to cry.

At least you knew what it felt to give and receive love- even if it was false and unrequited the entire time.

*****************************************

Astarion is barely present for the conversation with the Harper male who is trying to impress him into bed. Astarion is only thinking of you and how much he wants to get this over with so you can find a more secluded spot together. Every morning to every night feels like far too long to wait to have a tender moment with you.

Astarion imagines leaving lingering kisses along your collar bones and your cheeks. He thinks about how he desperately needs to rebraid your hair. It’s been frizzy and unruly from all the fog- the baby hairs sticking out all over the place. He also needs to patch up your armor again- your Meilikki Cleric Armor ripped apart from the events of yesterday.

Mostly though, he wants to spend the off day tomorrow with just you. Astarion wants to find somewhere to hide or even just rent a room so that you can just be in each other’s presence un interrupted by the world. Astarion’s heart glows at the thought of the sexless intimacy you share. He’s so happy it’s not a priority to you- it’s allowed him to do things at his own pace and as he wants to which is very freeing to him.

Astarion had finally admitted to himself that his plan had well and truly failed- he has fallen for you very hard.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to lie to Shadowheart. He mostly just didn’t want to be pressured to leap forward. Astarion isn’t sure if you want to be something real with him and he also doesn’t know if you are hell bent on being a proper noble woman who marries a proper noble man. It would break his heart if you rejected him and Astarion has no desire to feel that way. For now, Astarion will bask in his peaceful ignorance.

The Harper man eventually scowls at Astarion and tells him to fuck off if he isn’t interested. Astarion goes back to Shadowheart with an annoyed look on his face.

“Fine- you win, Cleric,” Astarion scowls, “I have feelings for them. I couldn’t even give that man a moment of my attention because I couldn’t stop thinking about them so if you will excuse me-“

Shadowheart squeals in delight and Astarion rolls his eyes. Astarion walks around the entire inn and property- you are nowhere to be found. Astarion is beginning to become more and more worried. Astarion is pacing out front when Karlach and Dammon come up to the Inn- ready to hit the sack.

“Karlach,” Astarion says, a bit more panicked than he means to, “where is Tav? I’ve been looking for them everywhere and I can’t find them!”

Karlach looks suddenly uncomfortable and like she definitely knows where you are.

“Karlach if you know where Tav is-“

“I do!” She says exasperated, “but they specifically asked that you don’t know and I don’t blame them! You gonna go fuck them and pretend to have feelings for them again for the billionth time?”

Astarion is stock still and horribly confused. What in the hells is she talking about? Karlach shoves a piece of crumpled paper into his hands and shakes her head at him.

“You know- if you are going to fuck with someone’s feelings,” Karlach tries to keep her patience, “maybe don’t pick the nicest person in the room. Honestly Fangs- fuck you. I thought you were better than that.”

Astarion is at a loss for words- which is very rare for him. He slowly unfolds the note- hoping it might put some of the pieces together.

Star,

I have really come to enjoy your company and our time together.

I am quite smitten with you and I’m too nervous to say this out loud, but I would like to be able to call you my partner (in a romantic sense)- if you return my feelings, that is.

If not, no worries. All I want is for you to be happy.

-Tav

The pieces click together like a haunting tune.

You had heard everything that was said between him and Shadowheart. Obviously you didn’t stick around for the important part, but Gods you must be heartbroken.

Astarion has to assume you were hiding somewhere in Damon’s shop if Karlach is the one who knows where you are. He had been avoiding the shop initially so that Karlach could have her privacy with Dammon. Now it’s fair game.

Astarion quickly walks towards the shop and as soon as he enters- his ears pick up your quiet sobbing. Your thoughts are loud and unguarded- his words playing in your head over and over again. You are wondering why you aren’t good enough. Astarion finally sees what you have refused to show him- your parents are long gone, despite the fact that you talk about them as if they are waiting for you to come home. Your Aunt, Uncle, cousins, and an entire society have rejected you, humiliated you, and belittled you. This just happens to be the salt in the wound. You keep looping through the thought of how stupid you are to have missed this of all damn things. How could you even begin to think he would actually want you? Plain, boring, ugly, half-breed Tav.

Oh my Darling, what have I done?

Shadowheart had been teasing him relentlessly ever since you had all arrived back to the safety of Last Light Inn. You had led them all to support Astarion in finding out more about the scars carved into his back. It had been incredibly dangerous and Shadowheart had had to heal him more than usual- he kept putting himself between you and every bomb, warrior, etc. He wanted her to stop- he likes the privacy of his little world with you.

Now he’s demolished that world and your heart in less than an hour. Astarion was actually nervous earlier- realizing how deep his feelings for you are and how much he wants something real with you. He just isn’t close enough with Shadowheart to share those feelings out loud willingly. Astarion is thrilled that you feel the same way, but now he isn’t sure he can convince you that his feelings are genuine and not a giant lie.

Astarion slowly makes his way up the ladder and he hears your sobbing stop- one single sniffle occurring before silence.

“Darling?” he asks quietly.

The air is tense and Astarion feels more nervous than a school boy with a crush. You hiccup.

“Astarion.”

Your voice is strained and cracks- he can hear the effort you put into trying to make your voice sound steady and normal.

You are definitely not happy with him. You usually address him as Star when he first arrives in your orbit.

Astarion takes it as a good sign that you are at least willing to speak with him.

“It’s come to my attention that you may have overheard a conversation without context and without staying until the end,” Astarion says slowly, “I was hoping you might let me explain myself.”

You sit up gingerly, your head bent, and look up at him with puffy, bloodshot eyes. Your bottom lip is swollen- you often worry it between your teeth when you are upset. He doesn’t like when you are upset, but he does love how incredibly delicious it makes your lips look. Your skin is under a veil of tears and your cheeks are stained pink from you rubbing away the sadness from your face. It’s unfair how beautiful a crier you are.

Astarion decides to go against his better judgement and he crawls towards you. You look at him with a guarded expression, but you don’t fight him as he pulls you into his lap- his fingers moving the hair out of your face and wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks.

“Shadowheart was teasing me for being… overly concerned with your safety today,” Astarion begins, “I just didn’t want to- her and I aren’t close enough for me to-“

Astarion huffs in frustration and looks down at the floor momentarily before making direct eye contact with you. He decides to use the tadpole- maybe showing will make more sense than explaining.

Astarion shows you his original intentions of manipulating you- his musings over your beauty, but your aggravating naivety and the annoyance at your persistent kindness. He feels you flinch a little, but your body begins to relax against his as you watch his feelings change. Astarion lets you see all of his jealousy, confusion, fear, and adoration for you. He even lets you see his turmoil during sex. Astarion enjoys himself with you- more than he’s ever enjoyed himself with anyone, but the self-loathing and disgust pose a challenge during intimate moments.

Lastly, Astarion shows you how scared he is to lose you. He lets the feeling consume him and he feels like he’s a rope ready to snap at any moment. His mind wanders to how much he doesn’t ever want to have to miss you- the beautiful moments you have shared together and how much joy you have brought to his life. You make him want to be a better person- well at least in your presence. Astarion would do just about anything for you.

You press your forehead to his and release a relieved sigh. Astarion pulls you in for a deep, tender kiss. The kiss is needy, but not in a sexual way. Astarion needs you to know that he really does adore you- his affections are absolutely not fake.

He finally has to pull back to let you breathe and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You make me so so happy, Darling,” Astarion whispers tearfully, “I really don’t want to lose you.”

“Star, I adore you for all the sentimental reasons,” your eyes sparkle as you look at him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Astarion tries not to show how relieved he is, but the way his shoulders slump gives him away.

“We don’t have to have sex, you know,” you say quietly, “I can wait until you are ready. I want you to be happy and feel loved more than anything.”

Astarion is surprised by the choked sob that escapes his lips- pulling you in closer.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Yeah well,” you pull back and smile at him, “I triple dog dare you to prioritize your wants and needs first!”

Astarion rolls his eyes at you and tries to hide the grateful tears threatening to spill from his eyes. You are his most favorite person across all the planes. He is so grateful for you, your patience, and how much you try to understand him so that you can support his healing from centuries of abuse.

“Cheeky pup.”

You grin widely, “the cheekiest.”

“Hmmm well,” Astarion slyly smirks, “if we are going to play this childish game…”

You pout, jutting your lower lip out. Astarion places a chaste kiss on your cheek before whispering in your ear.

“I triple dog dare you to be something real with me.”

Astarion’s nerves are going haywire- praying to every God he can think of that you still want to be serious with him.

Your smile could light up the entirety of the Shadow Cursed Lands. You give him a short sweet kiss on the cheek and A kunik*.

“Dare accepted.”

*A kunik means nose kiss in Inuit

[starsxblazing]

Pushing the Limits (Part 10)

Summary: Prepping for your mission takes an interesting turn

Azriel x Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 11 - Part 12

----

Cassian banging on your door before the sun was even up had you pulling your covers over your head with a huff. When you didn’t answer, he burst through the door and pulled the covers off of you. You frowned at him when cool air hit you and it was all that you could do to not knock that cocky smirk off of his face.

“Cassian!” you snapped. “I could’ve been naked.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” he laughed. “Wake your ass up. Rhys wants to see us.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be training in that damn maze that you set up?” you asked as you hesitantly crawled out of bed, rubbing your eyes in the process.

“The girls’ will manage without the two of us for a few hours.”

“Yea but I like doing it with them. Even if it kicks our asses most of the time.”

“Well the sooner you get up, the sooner we can get back.”

You groaned again as you stood to force yourself awake. Knowing your struggle, the House placed a steaming hot cup of coffee on your desk and you had never been more thankful for a house that was essentially alive. Unsure of what to wear, you slipped on your usual loose t-shirt and leggings in hopes of being comfortable.

For all that you wanted to be with your friends, you also didn’t want to be. The three girls going through hell in those obstacles were a lifesaver and it gave you something to think about other than your broken heart. You ignored Azriel any time that you were in seeing distance from the other, refusing to look at him because you couldn’t forgive him. At least not yet. Maybe, just in hindsight, it wasn’t that big of a deal but it was to you.

You had lost your favorite dagger that had been a personalized gift from Rhys whenever you both were free of the underground prison. It was so close to your heart since it was something given from the heart and it really hurt to lose. Not only that, Azriel’s mistrust in you hurt as well. They all knew that you weren’t as good but it left you wondering if the shadowsinger’s harsh words about your training was something that he really thought was true.

Pushing your pain aside, you made your way to the balcony where Cassian was already waiting on you. He gave you a playful scoff paired with an equally playful glare. It eased your pain just a bit and you couldn't be any more thankful for him. Being in his presence was calming so you didn’t mind the close proximity that he moved towards you once you stepped into the fresh air. 

“Do you know any good blacksmiths?” you asked as you looked up at him.

“I know plenty,” he chuckled, the sound being off compared to usual.

“No. Not just any blacksmith,” you sighed. “I want the best of the best.”

“To replace the dagger you lost?” You nodded since you weren’t able to form the words. “I will go through all of my sources and find the absolute best.”

You barely caught Azirel’s presence as you grinned up at Cassian before he gently picked you up and moved into the sky at a slower pace than he usually did. Anger was shining in his eyes as he flew and you hated that you were the reason behind the rift between the three brothers. It was the absolute last thing that you would ever want but yet here they all were.

Cassian landed flawlessly as he always did and set you down just as gently had he had when he had picked you up. You had wondered if it was pity that made him do it but you quickly realized that it was his appreciation that you were still alive and with them.

Rhysand was waiting in the office with Amren and no sooner than they could sit down, Azriel was striding through the door behind them. You still refused to even so much as look at him even though you so desperately wanted to. A month after his confession still had your heart hurting and a part of you wanted to let it go just to see if things would work.

“Are you up for some work, Y/N?” Rhys asked, breaking through your thoughts.

“You know I always am,” you agreed as you felt Azriel’s eyes on you. “It’s only been a month and I’m so restless that I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“You just like to fight, girl.”

You grinned at Amren and you were always conflicted if you liked her or Cassian the most but always decided that was almost equal. Amren always encouraged your violence and you found it amusing every single time. Pushing your thoughts to the side, you listened as Rhysand explained the details to Cassian.

“It’s a rival camp of Windhaven,” the High Lord started. “They have snuck in too many times, mostly in the middle of the night, and have done what the worst of the Illyrians have to offer.”

“Actual and true danger then?” you asked and contemplated what exactly they were to do. “I’m guessing that it means sneaking and plotting.”

“Cassian knows what needs to be done and will give you all of the details tonight before you leave in the morning.”

You nodded but was surprised that the shadowsinger had nothing to say, even by the end of the meeting.

Azriel was beside himself with worry as he sat in his room, his shadow leaving him to go check on you in your room. Going to Windhaven to see how things were going was one thing but taking care of rogue Illyrians from a different camp was something different. He had full trust in his brother, who was still highly upset with him, to protect you but the mating bond only had his worry at an all time high.

It would take everything in him to use his senses and not be overbearing. Even though he knew that you didn’t know about the bond, he tried to tug on it anyway. He wanted nothing more than for the both of you to be fully connected so that he could send all of his love and regret in hopes that you would know just how sorry that he was. It was another sleepless night and he waited for a different shadow to tell him that you were getting ready to leave. The one that favored you the most never told him anything about you other than that it wanted to be with you.

He was unsure if he should do what he was planning but he felt that if he didn’t, he would wholeheartedly regret it. Cassian was finishing his breakfast while you were working with the many straps on your leathers so you would be able to place all of the steel on the table in front of you in them. For the first time in a month, you looked at him and all that he could see was sadness and pain before you quickly returned to your task.

Despite the fact that Cassian was still upset with him, he threw him an apologetic glance before watching you struggle with the many weapon holder straps. He took a deep breath and approached you, his heart clenching and aching when you stiffened as he got close. In hopes of appearing smaller and less intimidating, he knelt beside you which caused you to look at him with surprise. 

He did his best not to touch you no matter how much that he wanted to as he wrapped the strap around your thigh. You continued to stare down at him as he tightened it so that it fit correctly before adjusting the one around your waist and then the one that would hold the sword behind your back. 

Once he was satisfied that it was all correct, he pulled Truth-Teller from its strap on his own thigh and placed it in the strap on your right side so that it would be the first thing that you could grab. From his peripheral vision, he saw his brother completely frozen in shock as he knew he would be.

“I don’t need your weapons,” you muttered, the pain in your voice only breaking him further.

“I know,” he whispered as most of his shadows disappeared other than a few that wanted to stay with you. “But Truth-Teller has never let me down. Ever. And I know that it will help you too if it is needed.”

There were tears lining your eyes whenever he slowly stood and the sight of it had him wanting to pull you into him to comfort you from the pain that he had caused. Before he could say anything else, Rhys appeared on the balcony and his eyes went wide when he noticed the weapon strapped on your side. With a shake of his head, he stepped away so that the High Lord could winnow them to their destination and he prayed to the Mother that you would come back safe and unscathed.

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @i-am-infinite @acourtofbatboydreams @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @bxm-1012 @justdreamstars

[true-blue-sonic]

🌹 may I ask for some more Sonilver cuteness if you have it :3

*drops the hurt-comfort* yes of course :>

☆☆☆☆☆

“Emeralds turn your thoughts into power,” Sonic whispered. “Feel it. Focus on its warmth. I’ll help you.”

“Get my strength back,” Silver muttered hazily, hand curling around the gemstone as well. With his own fingers digging against the glowing surface Sonic closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath. Restore Silver and his powers, he implored it in his mind. He’s not supposed to be like this. He’s supposed to be… on the move, and helping others. Being fierce and loud and protective.

Making memories of the psychic from the past two days take shape in his mind to show to the Emerald Sonic smiled. Silver helping him, Silver being moody in that way as If he wanted to help so badly he had no idea how to make it take form. Silver, rushing through the sky as fast as Sonic was running. Silver, lifting giant robots like they weighed less than a pebble.

Silver, turning around to check on Sonic with those shining golden eyes.

Silver, whose tiny little barely-noticeable smile had somehow been more radiant than the sun itself.

Sonic only realised he’d been entirely lost in thought when a yelp slipped past his lips at the cold, wet nose pressing into his upper arm.

“What-?!” he sputtered, flinching. “What is-! Oh.”

On his lap Silver stared, ears twitching slowly. “I said your name literally a hundred times, but you didn’t hear me,” got brought up. Sonic blinked back stupefied, mind racing… before the memory of just what they’d been doing and why Silver laid cuddled against him like this crashed into him faster than he could run, and he flinched once more.

“Oh, yes, indeed. Sorry, just focusing very hard on the Emerald. How’re you feeling?”

Soft grey fur shimmied past Sonic’s legs as Silver stretched himself out. “Tons better,” got nodded contently, the psychic’s fingers trailing over the Emerald’s glowing surface. “I gotta keep this in mind the next time my powers run out!”

“…Hm. Do they do that a lot?” Sonic inquired slowly. With such a statement, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Silver was no stranger to becoming so… Feeble wasn’t the right word, but just so exhausted, yet still pushing himself to keep going. For whatever reason, seeing him like that had been most worrisome indeed. The thought that this happened more often, Sonic didn't like one bit.

Silver for his part just shrugged. “Depends on what I’m doing. If I’m on an adventure, it’s… not impossible that they do. But it’s easy to recharge them! With rings or something.”

Noncommitally Sonic hummed at that. “Is there a way to make them not run out? You seemed to be in pain there.”

“It wasn’t bad,” the prompt protest came, Silver’s fingers running on the mark on the palm of his other hand. “It’s just hard to move, but that’s kind of the quintessential thing you have to be doing on an adventure, so it frustrates me.”

Sonic, who’d not at all missed Silver’s pained gasps and jolting movements and the way those golden eyes had shrunken into pained pinpricks, hummed once more. “You need to take good care of yourself. Not push yourself far beyond your capabilities-”

“I am!” Silver interrupted, eyes narrowing. “I eat food and I sleep plenty. What more do you want from me?!”

“I meant more… emotionally.” Carefully Sonic reached out as well, fingers trailing over Silver’s mark also. At least it’d gotten its usual cyan colouring back without wavering, instead of the eerie grey that had flickered through it before. “I understand wanting to push yourself over your limits to do something important, but it harms you. Right now I’m around to help, but you’re often on your own here, so…”

“…Ah.” Staring at his hand as well Silver bit his lip, silent seconds ticking out between them. “You’re worried about me,” eventually followed as if it were a very big conclusion, and Sonic could barely stifle a snort in time. Had Silver truly missed the amount of time he’d been spending worried about the other so far, after he’d gotten injured?

“That’s indeed what’s up, yep.”

Grey arms crossed over each other. “I don’t want that.”

“Hey, I just care about my friends. I can’t help it,” Sonic smiled back-

Though it stilled at the utterly confused way Silver blinked at him.

 “We’re… friends?” the other piped up very slowly.

“…Well, yeah, duh. I thought you knew that.”

[cryinthevortex]

Quick writing prompt (if you are up to it): Rook and Lucanis had their first child a while ago. They come to visit Villa Dellamorte for the first time. The little one runs up to Caterina as fast as a toddler is able to, wraps their little chubby arms around her legs and yells "Nonna!" with all their heart and soul. Give me your best (or your worst) ;)

Caterina Dellamorte- Never the Nonna (Part 1: Lucanis)

“Papá!” She toddles up the grand staircase of the Dellamorte Villa, way too fast for her age.

Lucanis is terrified. Their daughter is like Rook, a living chaos, and Caterina will notice it. She barely runs yet but still moves like a ball of lightning around the place. Lucanis cringes as a vase falls from the sideboard.

Did she get any of my grace? Well, she climbs fast, there is hope. But she really shouldn’t. Mierda!

He dashes after her with his catlike agility, which seems to have skipped over his daughter entirely, and quickly scales the stairs two steps at a time. Her dark and always messy hair sticks out from the balustrade, and her familiar brown eyes stare at him, smiting him from above in glee.

She doesn’t have many words. Unfortunately ‘mierda’ is one of them, of which Lucanis is not too proud. ‘Mommy’ is another, because she spends lots of time protesting to him in otherwise gibberish about Rook limiting her creativity by telling her ‘no’. It is a word she most definitely does not want to know. Little did Lucanis know he would turn out to be the soft touch, but here they are.

Lucanis expected himself to be a taskmaster, demanding things done to perfection, but as soon as she was born, those notions evaporated, and his mind went in the opposite direction. Rook tells him regularly to stop spoiling their daughter, but he cannot help himself. What is he supposed to do? Get a cane and start whacking? A little black-and-white thinking. Somewhere within him, he knows he should support Rook and restrict their child’s worst, destructive tendencies. Instead, it turns out this heartless assassin cannot muster a single ounce of the discipline that he grew up surrounded by, to rein in his own daughter. Consequences lie in front of him plain as day.

Caterina’s flower vase full of roses lies well dead on the ground, underneath it a wet stain, slowly seeping into her precious floorboards. Maker, she is going to be mad. She will undoubtedly blame Rook.

“What was that?” He hears Caterina’s voice yelling from the direction of her office.

“It’s… us.” Lucanis calls, still trying to get used to 'us' meaning even more than himself and Rook. At this point, it is an untruthful expression as his daughter has disappeared entirely. Lucanis is delighted that a bit of him lives on in her.

Where is she? Is she with Spite?

As a quirk of nature and a consequence of Lucanis and Spite sharing a body, she can see and hear Spite. Considering some aspects of their relationship and harmony, there are thoughts best left untrodden. But at the end of the day, Spite is capable of anchoring himself to her too. While he is with her, the demon's gravelly voice is less loud in Lucanis’ head.

Her ability to see Spite was apparent from the start; her eyes have always followed him everywhere. The only person who was not surprised about this turn of events was Emmrich, who possesses a similar gift without a demonic heritage. He will be busy prodding her beautiful head as soon as she finds words. Of course, considering the number of words her mother has, Lucanis lives in mortal fear of impending constant chatter in the house.

“Is she here?” Caterina calls from the ground floor. Her cane taps on the stairs, so she is coming up. The sound no longer scares Lucanis; the sensation of dread has faded as more positive thoughts have taken hold.

Being a father is worse than all-day drills in the Dellamorte Mansion’s courtyard. As a training instructor, Caterina is lightweight compared to his daughter, always demanding, asking, and never seeming to rest. I really need to learn to say ‘no’.

He hears a quiet giggle ahead, and Caterina is getting closer. She was away on Crow business and missed much of her great-granddaughter’s life. However, it could be argued that she had no interest in it in the first place. They’d only met once before when she was just born.

Whoever Lucanis’ and Rook’s daughter looked like that day was somewhat debatable– as Rook had had a rough ride with the delivery and their daughter was badly bruised. However, her familiar-looking, brown eyes stared from underneath the blanket wide open immediately after birth. Caterina had come and gone. She waved her hand at their child and walked off. Lucanis had heard afterward that she was found in the corridor, leaning on her cane, looking thoughtful, until she composed herself, straightened her back as if pulled by an invisible string, and walked off.

“Rook isn’t if that is what you’re asking,” Lucanis replies. Caterina loves to hate Rook after all these years.

“Wonderful.”

They hear a sound of feet thumping on the floor from the corridor, and a crashing sound as another vase tumbles down as a small child bumps herself while cutting a corner. Caterina turns around towards the sound and stares eyes wide as the child's arms wrap around her legs.

Lucanis grins as he watches his daughter scream, “Nonna!” with all her heart and soul. His smile turns into worry fast, as she peeps at Caterina from the level of her knees, and he sees her cane shift.

“Mmm. Lucanis. She looks like you. Unfortunately, she possesses her mother’s facial expressions. How regrettable. And manners of course. ‘Nonna’. Let me guess, Rook taught her that?”

Plausible. Even likely. Or Spite, at Rook’s request.

“Why would she do that, Caterina?”

To mess with her head, of course.

Caterina’s eyes narrowed. She did not believe for a second Lucanis’ deflection. Instead, she turns her gaze towards the small human at her feet and says to Lucanis, “You do realize I will never become the baking grandmother?”

“Yes. It is for the best, as I love my wife, and I do not wish her to die from poisoned baked goods,” Lucanis says.

Caterina smirks, “Very well.” She uses her cane to nudge the little girl trying to pry open the clasp of her shoe. “What is your name?”

“Lucía Illaria Dellamorte,” Lucanis says and smiles at his daughter who recognizes her name. If she is denied mischief she tragically does not react to it.

Lucía continues her endeavors, squealing triumphantly when she succeeds in snapping the clasp open. She carries the names of Lucanis’ mother and Illario.

“So that is why they never told me when I ordered them not to,” Caterina muses.

“You did not know?”

“I did. But I wanted to hear her name from you, Lucanis,” Caterina says and tries to close the clasp with her cane. The child guards her victory and does not allow it. “The name seems fitting.”

She bends down to meet her and picks her up. Spite snarls at Caterina, but Lucía smiles at the demon, and he relaxes.

“My great-granddaughter, would you like to see your family house?" She looks at the two broken vases on her precious floor. "Although you have been acquainted with it enough to start breaking things already, I see.”

She does not seem angry, but Lucía on the other hand looks triumphant. Lucanis stops Caterina by briefly touching her arm.

“Caterina, we have a request. It's Rook's idea,” Lucanis says, realizing he made a mistake. He should have never brought her into this. Rook may have suggested it, but he wholeheartedly endorsed it. He continues regardless, “Could we refer to you as a grandmother instead?”

“Fine. Now, Lucía, let Nonna show you where your father’s room is. You can destroy everything within it at your leisure.”Mierda! I need to save my wyvern statue. Lucanis runs upstairs. Lucía and her mother can play with his heart all day long, and force him to store his knives in a safer place, but his dear daughter will not touch his statue- he is not that much of a changed man.

[thesixthplaneteer]

Here is my entry for the Masquerade Breach zine!! I have been hitting that word limit like a brick wall for the past month, and I am too excited to keep it to myself! My piece is titled Hell-O-Ween! A Masquerade Breach Story because we like cheesy horror in this house. Thank you for reading!

It’s the late 1980s in Las Vegas, Nythanel, and Noa are attending a Halloween party being put on by Don Jacob Rothstein. Held in a mansion in the desert far away from the city, so the more illicit activities don't fall under unwanted scrutiny, and only those in the know are supposed to be there. One person slipped past security, an ancient enemy of the Giovanni whose true motives are unknown, but their eyes are set on Noa tonight. What can a neonate necromancer and waterblooded sorcerer do when things really start to go bump in the night?

The green makeup of his Audrey Two costume hid the redness but Nythanel still felt the warmth of embarrassment and anger on his face. Fighting back tears he side stepped between costumed guests, tray toting servers, and did his best to fight the urge to bull them over as he went back to the ballroom. Don Jacob Rothstein's Halloween party was in full swing. The dance floor was lively, the bar was packed, and the live band seemed like they could go all night long.

He wanted to make his problem everyone else’s problem but held onto his senses, making a scene at the head of Clan Giovanni’s party wouldn’t make his night better. Noa’s bright red hooded dress and silver devil mask were easy to spot, but seeing her didn’t bring the ease to his mind he wanted. A tall figure in an elaborate red Venetian masquerade costume with a matching laughing mask loomed over her, holding her wrist.

The party-goers near them shuffled away and gawked. No doubt they thought some crass couple brought their backroom fun to the front. A wall of bodies formed to watch, but over their shoulders Nyth could see another masked person grab Noa from behind. Nythanel shoved over a woman in a peacock dress and jammed his elbows into the sides of two clowns to get through.

Noa struggled to get out of their grasp, but Red Mask jerked her arm the other direction. The snap was audible over the music, a pained scream erupted from Noa, a jagged peak shot up from under the sleeve of her dress. The crowd around them gasped, some retched, some clapped for what they thought was some Halloween entertainment, some quickly fled, others watched on unsure what to make of the display.

Nythanel burst free of the crowd and charged them, seeing that the second assailant's costume was also Venetian - though far less elaborate and the color beige. Red Mask noticed his approach and abandoned Noa with a leap backward as Nythanel slammed into the tussle, bringing them all down to the floor hard. Noa’s silver mask clattered to the ground while Beige’s mask was knocked askew but stayed on their face. The thin fabric of their costume tore as Nythanel gathered a fistful of it and pulled, the other fist delivering a hard blow to the back of their head, forcing them to surrender Noa in order to defend themselves.

The surrounding crowd was now comprised mostly of individuals thinking this was simply a show for the party. Some clapped, some cheered for who they picked as their favorite, while a few pulled their partners away.

Moving with trained agility, Nythanel threw his leg over Beige, pushing them onto their back, gaining control of the situation. Flesh exposed itself, the torn collar of the costume revealing their throat. Nythanel gazed at the sight for a moment. He had no Beast. There was no voice demanding he feed, no inner monster begging to kill. This desire was all his. He opened wide and lurched forward, his fangs breaking skin. Any scream to come was cut short by the crushing of their windpipe beneath teeth. Fresh warm blood cascaded into his mouth. Mortal, musky, the sting of alcohol, and a wine-like sweet finish. Sanguine he thought to himself as it empowered his own weak vitae.

Nythanel didn’t see where the sawed-off shotgun came from, nor notice how Beige was able to pull the concealed weapon, he only heard the deafening bang that brought him back to reality. A shower of blood and bone poured from a bystander’s face. Screams of terror erupted from the crowd, they slammed into each other in their mad scramble, going toward the back of the manor to get away from the no longer entertaining brawl. The band abruptly stopped, the gunshot ending the revelry. Not wanting to risk Noa or himself being the target of the next round he twisted and wrenched, flesh and inner tissue tore until he ripped free the section of throat seized by his vicious teeth.

More yells of fearful confusion came from the guests, the handful of them brave or drunk enough to think they could stop a gunman turned and ran as Nythanel spit the chunk of meat onto the floor. Suddenly, he felt pressure build in his ear drums, his heart became heavy with dread despite the flood of passion from the blood. He'd felt this before, when Noa had shown off her necromantic powers in their rare moments of being able to be alone together since arriving in Las Vegas. Nythanel had thought he’d become accustomed to it, or at least shouldn’t be caught off guard by it. Still it numbed the hot anger and hatred he felt. A curtain of wispy, incorporeal figures began to fall from the ceiling. They manifested into the material world like shadows cast into the air itself as they drank in the light, only allowing a dim glow to illuminate the room. Recognizably human, yet completely otherworldly. One such shadow fell over the victim of the beige thug’s gunshot. The body began to twitch and jerk, a sickening gurgle came out of its throat as the air pushed out of its lungs. Nythanel reeled back from the corpse shambling back to its feet, and turned to see Red Mask holding a black stone.

Noa moved to stand, and for a moment she was awestruck at the blatant display of Oblivion's power. Her already dark eyes turned black like a starless night. She wiped her palm across Nythanel’s chin, wetting her hand with the blood of his victim. Willing forth her vitae through the protruding wound in her arm, she let it drip down and mix with the cooling blood before taking hold of the locket around her neck. The air around her became humid and cold. A shiver went through Nythanel as he felt an icy touch trace his spine. The rose on his lapel wilted, and the few mortals that tried running past them collapsed, their eyes went dull, skin turned pale. Sapped of life. She waved her hand out in front of her and took measured steps forward, like a priest performing a sanctifying prayer, and the wispy shadows began to retreat.

The sound of wet choking reminded Nyth of the reanimated corpse, and as his head turned back, he saw it rush past him. His body at first couldn't move as a deep and primal terror seized him. It was walking death, but not his kind of death. True death, the kind even the undead feared. He didn't want to go near that thing, but as it closed the distance between itself and Noa, he knew he had to act or he would lose her. Grabbing hold of his dying lapel rose, he squeezed hard along its thorny stem to draw blood, calling upon the sanguine power within him. He mumbled the incantation and the rose revived in his hand, more vibrant than ever.

Nythanel willed the rejuvenated plant to grow, attempting to whip it towards the corpse to stop it in its tracks. With perhaps more luck than skill, the branch wrapped around the creature's throat, barbs digging into dead flesh. Nyth pulled hard, managing to stop it mere inches from Noa, yet the body remained upright as it struggled to fulfill its goal of reaching her.

Noa didn’t waver at all, either completely confident Nythanel would help her, or far too focused on taking control of the descending wraiths.The room was a thunderous cacophony of horrified cries and screams of dismay, the shattering of glass on the ground, the panicked stampeding of a mob with no direction to go in. Those who had witnessed Nythanel's attack and the arisen corpse tried to run away, but those who hadn't seen pushed back to try and reach the front exit. Spirits accosted various bystanders, forcing themselves into unwilling bodies to inflict more fear onto those surrounding them. Poltergeists scattered plates and knocked over chairs, some managing to even drop a large chandelier on top of the crowd. In the confusion, they didn't care who was trampled. The guests desperately lashed out at anything impeding their own escapes. Jewelry, costume accessories, blood, and bodies all dropped to the floor and were stomped on without a second thought. The wraiths were erratic, but Noa fought, countering the incantations of Red Mask as the shadows ebbed and flowed around them like a turbulent ocean. To an unknowing observer, the two appeared to be simply standing in place and muttering strangely, but Nythanel knew they both were manipulating the thin fabric separating the land of death from the land of the living.

The rose Nythanel turned into a weapon was also being sapped of its life and desperately it drank from him to stay alive. He shifted his weight and pulled as hard as he could to try and bring the corpse to the ground. There was little hope in killing something that was already dead. He forced his will onto the rose once more, allowing it to drink even more of his vitae. It expanded rapidly in response, sprouting more branches that ensnared the body and sawed into its skin with mutated spikes. Despite it being controlled by a spirit, it was still limited to the strength of the muscles it still possessed, or so Noa had previously explained. The writhing and wriggling vines continued to tear, severing the veins and nerves and rendering the wretched thing immobile for good.

His vision started to blur, his head swimming as his vitae was near exhausted. The rose had taken root in his arm and now it threatened to drink him dry. With nearly all he had left, he willed the passing of seasons on the flower, advancing its life cycle to the point it began to wither and decay until it too became immobile and dead.

The two necromancers were still locked in their strange duel, fighting for control of the spirit current that flooded the manor. Nythanel knew he had to help Noa, something better than running headfirst into a death dealer but his options were limited. His eyes went to the floor for answers, and sure enough there was: shotgun. Hurriedly he picked it up and aimed, hoping it had the promised second shot, though the room spun in his hungry near-delirium. With a squeeze of the trigger the weapon thundered, sending its payload into the shoulder of the Red Mask. Crimson exploded from their wound as they stumbled back, their concentration breaking enough for Noa to gain the upper hand. Her good arm raised higher, and the undulating ceiling seemed to calm as the wraiths obeyed her. The shadow over the ballroom lifted slowly as she brought them to heel.

The Red Mask despite all of the trouble and their fresh injury seemed to have accepted their defeat. With only a glance to Noa and a dramatic throw of their cape, a cold silence surrounded them as they simply walked away. Despite the chaos of the still frightened crowd, they were swallowed within the mob as if they had not even been there. Nythanel at first made a move to follow, but stopped himself as Noa began to buckle. Good riddance, he thought sheepishly as he turned to her, relieved the death dealer decided to just leave. She was more important to him, anyway.

As the full brightness of the lights returned and the pressure lifted from his ears, the distinct sound of Italian leather stomped across the floor towards them from behind. A ham-handed man took hold of his collar and jerked him into the air, the shotgun crashing loudly onto the marble.

"You're gonna wish you were fuckin' dead when I'm through with you, Warlock." Growled Adolfo Puttanesca, right hand of the Don.

[renlyslittlerose]

Kinktober Day 12 - Stripping

Today's kinktober prompt: Stripper Obi-Wan.

I made it cute. I also went way over my word limit. Sorry @veloursdor Wiggle Your Hips - 2,134 Rated: E Content: Frotting; Hand Jobs; Mentions of Bottom Anakin and Top Obi-Wan; Grumpy Obi-Wan 😡

---

“You need to wiggle your hips more.”

“I do not wiggle my hips.”

“You do now.”

Obi-Wan stopped his poor attempt at a seductive dance and glared at Anakin. He crossed his arms over his chest as if to hide his supposed modesty, a blush spread wide across his cheeks and chest, giving him a delightful appearance that Anakin reveled in. Anakin knew telling Obi-Wan he looked cute would earn him a swift kick across the jaw and a bruised ego that would be felt for months, but it would almost be worth it. Almost.

A few days ago the Council informed Obi-Wan that he would be sent to a mid-rim planet on an important diplomatic mission. At first it seemed that it would be like any other, but Anakin counted himself lucky to be present when the other shoe dropped. According to tradition, visiting dignitaries and diplomats would have to partake in a ritual dance - a ritual dance that looked, to Anakin’s untrained eye, an awful lot like a strip tease. Obi-Wan hadn’t shown any indication he was uncomfortable with the instruction at the time, but Anakin could feel his complete aberration at the prospect through their bond - like a man recoiling from touching something unnecessarily mushy.

Anakin thought Obi-Wan did sexy well; he could be standing casually and Anakin could think of nothing but his deep desire to rut his cock against Obi-Wan’s stomach and whisper lewd things against his ear. But effortlessly sexy and purposefully sexy were two different things that Anakin - and Obi-Wan - were beginning to realize.

“You were doing okay when you were pretending this was just another lightsaber training exercise,” Anakin supplied.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “You said I had the expression of, what was it? A constipated Bantha?”

“A chronically constipated Bantha…”

A moment passed with Obi-Wan glaring at Anakin from across the room, before he sighed and dropped his arms. “I feel like a complete fool,” he said, all the anger slipping away. “I’ve never been very good at dancing off of the battlefield.”

“You get too caught up in your head,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan nodded. “I suppose I do.”

It was strange to see Obi-Wan so out of sorts. Normally he was all confidence even in the face of uncertainty, but his dejected personality change made Anakin feel equally uncomfortable.

“Keep going,” Anakin said. “Finish the dance and then we can work on whatever it is you’re unsure of.”

A smile spread across Obi-Wan’s lips, soft and quiet. He looked up at Anakin through the fringe of his hair, blue-grey eyes bright. “You sound almost like a teacher, Anakin.”

“Maybe you’re finally rubbing off on me.”

Obi-Wan completed the rest of the dance just as stilted and awkward as the first three times, movements uncertain and embarrassment palpable even to those who had no insight into the man. The dance ended with the diplomats in ceremonial undergarments where they would conduct their business in the same style of dress, no one able to hide behind riches and fabrics. Obi-Wan didn’t wear undergarments normally, and so he stood in front of Anakin completely nude, cock soft between his legs as he finished the dance.

“Anakin.”

Anakin brought his gaze back up and smiled at Obi-Wan. “I know, I know - eyes up here.”

“What did you think?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Maybe forget the whole ‘pretend you're fighting’ thing I said before, and think of something else when you’re dancing.”

Obi-Wan’s blush went deeper and he shuffled toward the bed, collapsing on it next to Anakin. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Who said you had to be the best?”

“I did.”

Anakin stared at out at the skyline of Coruscant, fiddling with the hem of his cotton shirt. He’d already shed most of his clothes the second Obi-Wan invited him over, but then Obi-Wan had told him they wouldn’t be having sex and Anakin was left semi-nude and regretting the haste at which he departed the training room.

Although sex may have been the key all along…

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said quickly. Obi-Wan glanced up at Anakin, his brow quirked. “How about instead of thinking of the dance as a fight, think of it as having sex.”

Anakin thought Obi-Wan was going to outright reject the notion - maybe even laugh and tell Anakin to keep his head out of the gutter. But instead his expression relaxed, and he sat slowly.

“You might be on to something, actually. It was originally a dance created by a Queen from a nearby nation who was there to seduce the King in hopes of ending a decade’s long conflict.” He tapped his bottom lip with his finger, focus on the same skyline Anakin had been staring out before.

Without a moments pause Obi-Wan stood and collected his clothes. Re-dressing he started the dance again. This time there was more movement to his hips and shoulders, body swaying from side to side as he undressed according to the guide he’d found in the temple library. He started with the sash around his waist and then moved on to the robes, before slipping the tunic off. Once his upper half was bare he started on his leggings, thumbs slipping beneath the banding and running along, teasing the audience with the finale.

All the while Anakin watched, enraptured by the flex of Obi-Wan’s muscles beneath his skin, the shimmer of sweat along his brow, and the soft part of his lips as he breathed steadily, chest rising and falling in meditative serenity. Obi-Wan kept his eyes closed, and there was still the familiar focus on his face, but it didn’t show in his movements anymore, everything more supple and relaxed.

When he was finished he stood in front of Anakin entirely nude, cock half-hard and pulsing between his thighs. Anakin licked his lips and swallowed a thick wad of spit, his own cock hard between his legs as he lounged on the bed.

“Obi-Wan?”

“Yes?”

“My eyes are up here.”

Obi-Wan looked up from Anakin’s groin. He didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.

“How was that?” Obi-Wan asked.

“G-good,” Anakin said, nodding. And then, because he knew it was lacking. “Really… seductive. I can see why the King would want to call off a war.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, the sound of it going right into Anakin’s cock. “Sadly, it didn’t actually work. The war continued for another six months before the Queen had the King assassinated. But it makes for a good story, and an embarrassing diplomatic tradition.”

“What did you think of?” Anakin asked, voice thick with arousal. “I mean, when you were dancing.”

Shrugging, Obi-Wan collected his cloths, his cock still bouncing between his legs, thick and heavy and leaking precome. “I thought of you, of course.”

“Just me?”

“And me.”

Tossing the clothes on to a chair in the corner, Obi-Wan approached Anakin and sat down on his lap. Anakin hissed as Obi-Wan’s underside slid across his length, weight steady and demanding on top.

“What were we doing?” Anakin asked, a whimper slipping past as Obi-Wan began grinding down on him, his hands braced against Anakin’s shoulders. Anakin slid his hand along Obi-Wan’s thighs, feeling the muscles flex before he gripped Obi-Wan’s hips and thrust upward.

“We were fucking,” Obi-Wan said, the word ‘fucking’ sounding severe and filthy coming from his lips. “Do you recall that incident a few months ago with the spacecraft we were stranded in just above the atmosphere of some unknown planet?”

“T-the incident where you fucked me against the console I was trying to fix?” Anakin asked.

He bit his bottom lip and sighed when Obi-Wan grabbed their cocks and pushed them together, precome slick against their lengths and Obi-Wan’s palm as he started jerking them together.

“You make it sound as if you hadn’t spent the last week begging for my cock,” Obi-Wan said. He sounded perfectly composed, but the sweat beading across his brow and the tremor in his touch belied his arousal. He started thrusting up against Anakin’s cock, hand making a perfect circle that they could both fuck into. “You were so insolent - trying to rut up against me in the evening and sometimes during the day. So impatient.”

“I-I wanted you,” Anakin said, a tad defensive. “You kept denying me, even when we had the time.”

“Maybe I liked to see you desperate for my cock,” Obi-Wan murmured. He pushed Anakin on to the bed, relaxing his weight into Anakin as he pressed him into the mattress. He hovered just out of reach, however, lips close but still too far away to kiss and bite. “Maybe I like when you’re rutting up into your hand in your sleep, you’re so desperate to get off. Maybe I like when I can smell your sex in the morning, thick and dense. Maybe I like when you’re hole is loose and sloppy from the fucking you’ve been giving yourself with your fingers, as you wait for my cock.”

Anakin groaned and arched up into Obi-Wan, their cocks sliding together. Obi-Wan was keeping a slow pace, hips rolling down on Anakin, pinning him in place while giving him just enough friction to be good, but not decadent - not satisfying.

“F-fuck, Obi-Wan,” Anakin whimpered. “Didn’t know you got off on my touching myself.” And then, because he knew he’d get a reaction. “You’re kind of a pervert.”

Obi-Wan’s laugh of surprise broke the spell, and Anakin swallowed it up as their lips crashed together and Obi-Wan began thrusting into him. Anakin sighed into the embrace, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure roiled around in him, pooling in his groin as he felt the familiar pulling sensation in his cock. Obi-Wan was hugging him close, broad hands pressed against his back and shoulders, keeping him close as they humped against each other, chasing their release.

“Y-you’re a terror,” Obi-Wan mumbled when they broke apart, his voice thick with desire. He kissed down Anakin’s neck, teeth nipping the sensitive skin. “And a tease.”

“I-I’m not the one performing a strip-tease,” Anakin retorted.

Sliding his hands down Obi-Wan’s back, Anakin grabbed the meat of his ass and squeezed, shoving Obi-Wan up further against him. Obi-Wan let out a growl that traveled right into Anakin’s cock, and he came with a loud moan, back arching and hips twitching as he tumbled down into his release. Obi-Wan kept up the punishing pace, hips grinding into Anakin’s, lips hot against his temple, words stuttering as he praised Anakin for being a ‘devilish boy’ and a ‘tempting boy.’

When Obi-Wan was done he collapsed on top of Anakin, keeping him pinned to the mattress. Anakin’s shirt clung to him, sticky with sweat and humid air, but he didn’t care. Instead he closed his eyes and kept Obi-Wan close, wrapping his legs around Obi-Wan’s hips to prevent him from escaping from his needy embrace.

They settled into a doze, Obi-Wan’s breathing evening out as they lay on the bed. Off in the distance Anakin could heard movement down the hallway as the dinner hour approached and fellow Jedi made their way to the communal meal hall. But they remained where they were, contented for the time being.

That was, until Obi-Wan’s force signature began to tremor again.

“Stop thinking,” Anakin mumbled, but it was too late.

Raising his head, Obi-Wan looked down at Anakin, the worried expression once again splashed across his handsome features. “Anakin?”

Anakin resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead replied. “Obi-Wan?”

“When I was dancing… how obvious was my erection?”

“Uh… I mean, pretty obvious.”

Obi-Wan’s brows furrowed and he let out a clucking sound in the back of his throat. “Well I can’t think of you when we’re dancing then,” he began. “No, getting an erection in the middle of a diplomatic meeting would be very bad.”

Before Anakin could tighten his grip Obi-Wan was standing and returning to the centre of the room. Resting on his elbows, Anakin watched as Obi-Wan started going over the movements again, expression once again reminding Anakin of a chronically constipated Bantha. Sighing, Anakin sat up fully and watched Obi-Wan stumble through his routine.

Maybe no one would notice Obi-Wan in amongst the rest of the diplomats as he tripped over his feet and glared at the floor. Anakin hoped that would be the case, for Obi-Wan’s sake.

[furinana]

Reviewing SMT's 30th Anniversary Event in Yokohama

In 2023 (the year of Nanashi's birthday!) I spent some months in Japan so I lucked out when they announced a Megaten concert right before my departure.

This is a compilation of thoughts from tweets and messages I sent to friends that I decided to turn into a public post for archival purposes.

Disclaimer: unless stated otherwise, none of the pictures I'm using here are mine. Most of them were taken from the event's official account.

May 6th. From Kyoto (the city I was staying) to Yokohama was approx. two hours by Shinkansen. Like how a close friend of mine says, "The thing about Japan is that you ride one train and you just become the biggest car hater immediately".

[I ended up taking an overnight bus for the back trip however, took around 7 hours. Cramped on your legs but your pockets hurt way less]

How is Yokohama at the moment? A bright sunny noon and like this user illustrated, windy as hell (my cap came off once and I had to run in the middle of the street to rescue it).

[KT Zepp Yokohama]

I arrived 4 hours before the concert's schedule so I fucked around Yokohama's cozy Chinatown for a bit, among other places I don't remember. I didn't take into account that you could arrive hours prior to the event to purchase the limited merch line and stare at concept art of mainline games in an exhibiton placed in the entrance. The merch would get sold out in a matter of minutes in the gap between the opening and when the concert would start! Don't underestimate scalpers, folks.

A beginner's mistake, this is how life teaches you to be smart.

[For every 5,000 yen you spent, you got the chance of receiving a colored bookmark of one of the protagonists. A lot of items involved abysmal luck to get. Fortunately I was able to grab what I set my eyes on in the later online raffle so things turned out fine on my end (although I'm currently having to deal with a lot of dupes much to my annoyance. But hey, I have official merch of Flynn and Nanashi now)]

Regarding the exhibition: Not a lot of stuff to comment on. They made a timeline of sorts for each mainline title (except the NES games because fuck 'em I guess) and pretty much most of it was available in official artbooks published previously. Nocturne for example, they displayed the writing process & how they sketched cutscenes and attacks prior to making them 3D etc, which was no-news if you browsed the Ayakashi Monthly book before.

[We weren't allowed to take pictures so I can only show the previews from the official account. We had to stay at a long line to look at each piece in a chronological way so it felt particularly... uncomfortable. I don't like the feeling that I might be slowing down other people so I end up rushing what was supposed to be a serene activity]

The actual exclusive never-seen-before art was regarding beta character & demons concepts from SMT4A:

[Top: Drawn from memory by me. Bottom: The "mermaid" is a reference to the Starbucks logo that interestingly, is also present in Nanashi's room (which could mean there was an intention of Nanashi's only reference of a mermaid being the logo of a cafe that wouldn't exist in-universe anymore. For those unaware, the mermaid in question is actually a siren!]

Here are the descriptions I typed on my phone right after I exited the exhibition (and would use as base for my own sketches a day later):

Chironnupu had two beta forms with the face as it is now where one walked on four legs and the other his legs faded out in a ghost-like manner. He also had a third and more distinct from his current design where he was dressed in Ainu attire on 2 legs and was smiling to the viewer (a Youkai Watch sort of vibe, very cute).

Nanashi had an unseen sketch where Doi drew him with a suspiciously big waist. Yeah, I know it's minor but I wanted to comment on how unhinged Doi is in drawing girly boys. Go off king

Cleopatra had a form where she had dark skin, dark green hair and emerald green eyes (...huh? I just realized I painted her hair with brown instead of green lmao I became fixated in making her look similar to Maria Torres from Trauma Team). Considering how some demons get color variations (such as Vishnu or Moh Shuvuu), some even getting darker skin in adaptations (take Rama in the Devil Survivor 2 anime), perhaps Cleopatra getting an alt that is closer to this beta depiction isn't an impossibility. I can dream

Vishnu-Flynn had a version where his face was the same as how Flynn normally is.

Mermaid had a form where she was supposed to resemble the Starbucks logo where her palette was red&other color (I don't remember if it was blue or green) and showed an alluring evil smile.

Now let's talk about the concert. The structure of how it went was basically alternating between the band playing remixes of soundtracks with gameplay videos on the screen and then pausing for the hosts to talk with the audience and share some free-talks with the musicians that worked on the titles.

Fans used this menorah they sold in the booth as a glow stick (the ones you see in idol events).

[Event announcers Mafia Kajita and Chiaki Matsuzawa in day 1 and 2]

At the end there was a little quiz with gameplay-specific questions, for example what a certain skill does. You had to answer with this little cardboard thing that had a Jack Frost in one side and Black Frost in the other.

Regarding the free-talks, a summary of what I was able to get (take those with a grain of salt):

Kozuka never played any Megaten before composing for the games (he thought they were too dangerous)

SJR composer played all of them

Tsukasa said the songs for the SNES games were a lot longer and better-sounding but unfortunately they had to chop off a lot

Meguro makes sound effects before making the music, finished SMT2 before starting composing but doesn't play games anymore

By the end, Kajita wishes Megaten games were released more often so events like this could happen frequently and Matsuzawa says she's a big Digital Devil Saga fan.

By the way, you could easily recognize the western fans from the audience from how louder and cheerier they were compared to the local ones. Japanese fans are the types that respect silence to a scary degree. For another example, I was able to watch The Boy and the Heron right in the opening week and nobody from the session I went to laughed or made any perceptible reaction to other viewers. The only one laughing in the entire room was my, notably, non-JPN roommate.

When the concert was nearing its end however, the hosts allowed everyone to be as loud as they wanted to thus letting the atmosphere at long last turn closer to the spirit of Megaten... chaotic.

[Going personally to the concert was a totally unique experience compared to seeing it from a screen with diluted audio. You truly had to be there to have your stomach twisting from the echoes coming from the band's instruments]

My personal favorite remixes:

SMT1's Ginza

SMT2's Disco Theme

SMT4's Boss Theme & Map theme

SMT4A's f6 Godslayer (when they showed Vishnu-Flynn on the big screen... 😳)

[longislandcharm]

PARTIES: Winter (@longislandcharm) and Memphis (@2distraught2haunt) TIMING: Current SUMMARY: Memphis walks into the bar where Winter is enjoying a meal and she notices the ghosts trailing behind. She finds a way to talk to him about it. WARNINGS: None :)

There was only one thing that could get Winter back to Worm Row: chicken wings. As much as she had been trying to stay away from poultry with the giant bird leg grossing her out each time she spotted it, the craving for the wings at the Worm Hole hit her pretty hard. She found herself sitting at the bar that night waiting for that basket to be dropped in front of her like a hungry dog, eyes moving around the room to take in the rest of the patrons most of whom were at their limit for alcohol intake. There was a lackluster cocktail in her hand as she skimmed over a small man in the corner of the room, one that was staring straight at her as if he was trying to figure out why someone like her was in a bar like this. She couldn’t blame him for the question in his eyes but she rolled her own away, turning her back to him.

“Every time I’m in here I seem to attract weird guys who can’t keep their noses in their own business.” Henry raised a brow at her, the ghost looking unimpressed. “You became friends with the last one.” Winter scowled as discreetly as she could at the ghost, hoping anyone who saw would assume she was scowling at the bar’s aesthetic. It wouldn’t have been a stretch. But she said nothing in return, no correction or denial being sent his way because she supposed they were friends now no matter how much she wanted to deny it. Instead, she sipped her drink while turning to look in the opposite direction towards the front door and promptly did a double take.

A guy had just walked in. He looked normal for the most part, more clean cut than most of the other patrons with the hint of a smile on his lips. Most would have thought she did the double take because he seemed to be the only one worthy of her attention but the reason Winter was now staring at him was more than that. He was flanked by not just one ghost but two. She’d never seen anyone being followed by more than one before, not even other mediums, so her curiosity was naturally piqued. She tilted her head as he came closer to the bar, her brows furrowing while she tried to think of a way to strike up a conversation to see if she could figure out why these people were sticking to him. 

Eyes went down to the drink she had in hand, the medium looking back at him when he stood next to her at the bar and then back down at it again. Eh, it was worth a shot. She went to reach for a napkin but her hand “accidentally” knocked into her glass, the drink pouring over to his space on the bar and over his arm. She widened her eyes before scrambling for those napkins she had been reaching for, trying her best to sound apologetic for something she wasn’t sorry for. “Oh man, this is why I shouldn’t drink. I swear I’m not good even after one.” Which, for the most part, was true. She was such a lightweight that one could get her feeling just right but she hadn’t even finished the one she had just knocked over. “I can’t believe I did that.” More napkins were pulled out of the holder and held out to him. Spilling something on him was one thing but she wasn’t about to touch him even if it was to fix her purposeful mistake. “Can I get you a drink to apologize?”

“I could just come with you. Wings are better eaten fresh.” Clary pointed this out to Memphis as if she was teaching him some wise piece of life info, raising her fingers in epiphany and raising an eyebrow at him. “Wow. Never thought of that before.” Memphis answered dryly, “I’m pretty sure if I took you to the WormHole someone would call child services on me. And I’m not sure that I’d blame them.” He mimed her, his own knowing finger and eyebrow cocked in her direction. Her face fell into a scowl and she abandoned him, back to her iPad, “Well I hope whoever my new guardian is takes me to get wings.” Memphis laughed sarcastically, but had to hide the hint of a smirk on his face. She was such a smartass. 

Memphis should have been able to look forward to the quiet, peaceful drive to the other side of town to pick up their takeout. Unfortunately, his grandparents seemed dead set on making sure that didn’t happen. Oh shit, that pun was probably in poor taste. They appeared with little warning in the back seat of his car and immediately began talking. He made the mistake of glancing in the rearview mirror and making eye contact with one of them. “Oh Memphis! I thought you had one of those ear muffs on that you use to ignore us.” his grandfather interjected, interrupting whatever rambling his grandmother had currently been doing. “You’ll want to hear this-” his grandfather began. Memphis really doubted that, but he was feeling generous today. They weren’t exactly the best conversationalists, but at least they had more to offer than the usual pleas for assistance. He babbled on and on for a while about their walk in the park and their excessive people watching. “And then we spotted two red-necked grebes. I think they were just getting ready to mate and-” Memphis groaned loudly in an attempt to drown out whatever he was about to say and reached for his passenger seat, grabbing his headphones and trying to adjust them over his ears with the one free hand he had. Anything to stop them from telling him anything else about birds banging. 

Unsurprisingly, they didn’t take the hint. Memphis parked at the restaurant and made his way in, feeling their presence behind him as he cut through the crowd to head towards the bar. The bar wasn’t exactly the picture of health or safety, but they responded to less calls here than some might expect. Maybe people just didn’t call 911 at this place, though. As much as he wished he could keep the headphones on, he was forced to pull them off in order to talk to the bartender. The muffled noise from the outside world had been drowned out by his music, something Memphis wouldn’t exactly call a luxury considering the circumstances that demanded it, but it was definitely something he had grown accustomed to. In a lot of ways, he felt just as muted from the rest of the world as his headphones allowed him to be. As the bartender ran back to check, Memphis was just getting ready to pull his headphones back on when he felt the cold rush in his side and quickly running down his legs. “Shit!” Memphis jumped to the side, taking a moment to register exactly what had caused it. Just a drink, thankfully. The woman was apologizing and pushing napkins in his direction and he tried to wave it off with a grin, “Don’t worry about it. Usually when I spill a drink on myself I get to have a bit more fun before doing it, though.” he laughed quietly and grabbed the offered napkins to start patting down his sweater. “Oh you really don’t have to worry about it. As long as my food is ready I probably won’t be here too long.” he finally got a good look at the woman and realized that he had definitely seen her somewhere before, he just couldn’t be sure where. “Woah. You look crazy familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

So, Winter didn’t have much time since he wasn’t planning on sticking around. She did her best not to look at the squabbling couple behind him so that she didn’t scare him off before she could ease him into this or even let the couple behind him know she could hear them. She’d gotten more careful with the ghosts in this town and the people they chose to watch after some incidents that didn’t turn out favorable for her. People either thought she was nuts or got scared and scurried away when she brought up the hauntings. Either way, she got nowhere and her curiosity was never sated. 

She still held out the napkins, a weary smile on her lips as she still feigned being too buzzed. “Well, then let me pay for your wings to make up for it.” Her eyes flicked to the couple for the briefest of moments before they were back on him, noticing the headphones resting on his shoulders and that curiosity of hers flaring. Could he hear them? Or did he just like music that much? “It’s the least I can do.” There was a beat before Henry scoffed behind her, the ghost shaking his head. “I don’t know why you’re being shy now. You’ve always just come out and said what you wanted.” She wanted to turn to tell him that she wasn’t being shy and ask him how that had worked out for her in the past, but her smile only tightened as the biting words were held back. The bastard chuckled. Did he ever get tired of teasing her?

The man’s spark of recognition turned the tides of this conversation though, her smile brightening with the thought. Maybe this would be easier than she thought. “Oh, maybe you’ve seen my show? It’s called Spirit Speak. Airs on Tuesdays right at peak.” Okay, maybe not peak but she liked to pretend it was. Getting the time slot right after peak helped her ratings after all even if it was only people letting the tv run as they went off to finish their chores for the day. “Or maybe you saw my mother’s run. I revived her show five years ago but I made appearances on hers. We…contact the dead.” 

The drink had seeped through Memphis’ shirt by now and the cold pricked at his skin beneath. He let out a heavy breath and used the napkins to peel the shirt off and give himself some relief from the chill. “I really feel like he could have avoided this if he didn’t wear those ear muffs all the time.” He heard his grandmother talk behind him and besides a brief eyeroll, he resisted turning around to say something to her. He had learned the hard way that interacting with them only gassed them on. Not that ignoring them seemed to send them the correct message either.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’ve had far worse spilled on me.” Memphis laughed, realizing that hardly felt like an appropriate or suitable response to the woman’s words. “I should clarify that I’m a paramedic. So when I say that I mean like blood and vomit.” Well that certainly didn’t help. Who knew having a drink spilled on him would throw him off his game so much? He was planning on explaining that the woman didn’t need to do that, but paused when the man beside her spoke to her. She barely gave him a passing glance though. In fact, she ignored him completely. “I agree with your friend. I’m an open book. Just ask me.” he gestured to the man behind her and shrugged his shoulders. 

Oh shit. The ghost show. That made a lot more sense. It also made Memphis check his phone. Didn’t this place say his wings would be done already? He never held in particularly strong feelings for the show growing up, but he remembered how much his mom had loathed in. She had developed a bad habit of hate watching the show, complaining to any spouse, child or family ghost that had the unfortunate timing of being in the same room as her while it was on. Feeling that familiar sense of distaste now made him wonder if more of his mother’s hatred for the show had stuck with him than he originally though. “Oh yeah. I remember your show really well. My mom hated you guys, no offense.”

Her eyes flicked to the woman behind him, her smile turning more genuine as she realized what that sounded like. It sounded like her grandmother talking about her father, nagging him at every turn about this and that and even the things that weren’t his fault. Suddenly, Winter felt a tug in her heart trying to pull her all the way back to Indonesia with her Nenek. She hadn’t been back in years which was a true shame and she made a mental note to talk to her father about a visit soon. Just as soon as she could get true answers about why he’d done what he did to her as a child. 

Her attention was brought back to the man as he spoke again, rambling about the types of things spilled on him. She furrowed her brows, nose wrinkling as any warm feelings she was experiencing were chased away by those comments. “How did you make that even worse?” It was a talent a lot of people around here were good at. Some people just didn’t know when to…not. But she did realize that could have sounded mean so she tried to amend it a little. “I mean, the types of things spilled on you…it’s nice that you're a paramedic.” Winter would probably need them more often than not now that she thought about it. His next comment sent everything else out of her mind though, the medium looking behind her at Henry who shrugged the shoulder with his missing limb and then back at the man. “So you can see them. That’s what I was wondering…if you knew you had two ghosts trailing you. But obviously you do.”

As soon as the show was mentioned she could see the distaste he held for it. Winter clenched her jaw, trying to stop the flow of words that would definitely not help her case here, but she couldn’t help the little flash of anger in her eyes. She was so sick of the thing she loved being ignored but being hated was even worse. “Offense kind of taken, honestly.” Because she could see that he wasn’t fond either. She turned back to the bar, ready to give the cold shoulder before realizing she didn’t know enough mediums to be able to ignore this man completely. “Any particular reason why?”

“I don’t usually make it habit of talking about blood or vomit over food” Memphis shrugged. That felt worse, though he did feel the need to clarify yet again. “I think I lied again. My sister talks about that shit all the time at dinner. She’s very morbid. No idea what asshole raised her.” This damn open book thing was exhausting. He never knew how to respond to someone complimenting his work. He understood why people did it, but there was never a good response to it without sounding ingenuine or like a smug little shit. Luckily, or rather unluckily in this case, Memphis didn’t have to worry about mumbling a thanks or thinking of some witty remark as Winter’s next words knocked the wind from his sails. He froze for a minute, unsure if he was more shaken by being outed or by actually being rendered speechless. It was hard getting Memphis not to talk. Clary might want to consider giving this person an award. Memphis silently pulled the empty seat next to him out and slid into it. “Oh shit.” Was all he said at first, eyeline constantly shifting between Winter, back to his grandparents and then to the man behind Winter who was apparently a ghost. “I think I’ll take that drink, actually.”

Okay, so the fake ghost whisperer actually saw ghosts. Memphis genuinely didn’t see that coming. And she wasn’t too pleased that Memphis wasn’t a fan of the show either. Awkward. Memphis gave a quick grimace, awkwardly shrugging away the offense. What the hell else was he supposed to say? Apologize on his dead mother’s behalf? If Winter was truly owed an apology his mom should show up here and give it herself. Apparently, the medium would be able to see her. Who knew, right? “Honestly, she thought you were a hack. But I guess you’re not. Whoops?”

“Your sister sounds like a treat.” She couldn’t hide the dryness in her voice. Playing nice only lasted so long with Winter and it seemed her time was up. She tried to smile to make it seem like a joke on her part but it was probably clear that it wasn’t. “I think I’ve dealt with enough blood in my lifetime, I’m not ready to include talks of it in my meal time.” 

She looked over as this man started to process the information. He was clearly shocked to know that she wasn’t the fake that his mother claimed her to be but she couldn’t help thinking about how the woman hadn’t been as wrong as she was making her out to be. Her ability to see these things had just come back to her only a year before. It was hard to remember sometimes that seeing them hadn’t always been her normal. Still, Winter lifted one corner of her mouth in a smirk as she didn’t feel guilty enough not to gloat about this. “Maybe a rag too to wipe that egg off your face.” She turned to the bartender, gesturing for him to get whatever the guy wanted. The medium wasn’t enough of a jerk to take back her offer.

Rolling her eyes, Winter shrugged a shoulder at his words. “She wouldn’t have been the only one.” It was fair, right? Because both her and her mother were the biggest hacks in the industry. She just happened to do one accidental thing to attach a ghost to her and reveal this lost world to her. Speaking of… “Are they attached to you too? Did you also accidentally perform a ritual you didn’t understand to keep them by your side. That’s what happened with  this one.” She used a thumb to gesture to Henry behind her, the ghost mimicking her eye roll from earlier. “If so, I need to know how to get rid of the connection.” She couldn’t see it, but behind her Henry’s face fell and he started to stare straight ahead. 

While Memphis was pretty sure the woman had meant the joke sarcastically, he decided not to press on it. One, because defending his preteen sister to a complete stranger felt like a waste of both of their times; and two, because Memphis had just insulted the stranger and her mother, more or less. “But I’m a paramedic, so talk about blood is pretty unavoidable unfortunately. Noted, though.” Judging from the way their conversation had been going so far, he wasn’t sure a concern about continued conversations would be a problem. But Memphis was an optimist, so the idea of befriending the not so fake ghost whisperer was still at least a ballpark idea on the agenda.

“Oh you’ve got jokes.” That broke Memphis from whatever stupor he was in, a grin breaking across his face. “I’ll just take the cheapest beer you’ve got.” Memphis waved to the bartender. “Honestly, I’d feel worse about it, but I don’t think you can really hold it against us. There’s plenty of fakes floating around.” Technically, she could hold it against Memphis. He just wouldn’t need to feel guilty about it.

The lore drop was interesting, and was the first time Memphis had heard anything like it. From what he had been taught from Jonas, most were born with the ability to see the dead and it never really went away. Memphis’ family were a bit unique, sure, but that seemed to be the general rule. Performing a ritual to keep them near was definitely new. He didn’t realize that type of thing was possible at all, not that he’d ever want to keep people tied to him. But if the opposite sort of ritual were possible, now that was intriguing. “Uh- not exactly. Sort of a family curse or maybe curse isn’t the right word. But everyone in my family becomes a ghost when they die. Without fail, for some reason or another. My grandparents behind me are just one of a revolving door of relatives that annoy that shit out of me.” Memphis accepted the beer from the bartender and took a large gulp, downing about half in one go. The revelation required a drink, but if he kept at this rate he’d have to uber himself and their dinner back home. “You think there’s some kind of ritual that could get rid of them? I’ll be honest, I don’t know much about ghosts.”

She let out an unladylike snort at his words, not sure why she found that comment so funny. Winter knew he had to deal with some messed up things if he was a paramedic in this town and that fact almost made her uncomfortable. How she hadn’t been one of his patients yet was a miracle really. Maybe the discomfort of it all was too much, amusing in its own way. She didn’t look at him, keeping her gaze on the wall of alcohol lining the area behind the bartender. “I can’t imagine what you’ve seen. A little blood is probably nothing to you.” The sad part was, it was almost nothing to her now too. 

She finally turned her head, sending him a grin of her own, proud of her little poke at his expense. “No, the joke is you ordering cheap beer when you could have gotten whatever you wanted.” Eh, he had a point. She couldn’t hold it against him…too much. “I think a little faith in your fellow mediums is warranted.” Winter brought her drink to her lips before smirking. She really couldn’t be mad, could she? Annoyed maybe, but that came with the territory lately. Nobody around here even watched it, he at least had seen a little bit even if it was just previews. “But I’ll only hold it against you a little bit. Which is a lot of grace from me. You should feel very lucky right now.” 

Well that was…sad, wasn’t it? His whole family destined to become spirits after they died? She couldn’t even imagine. “They can’t move on at all?” It was probably a dumb question considering the two ghosts standing behind him. If they were all mediums they would have known how to let go, right? But she didn’t know a lot about this yet so she couldn’t say for sure. On the other hand, Winter did sometimes wish she could talk to her great grandmother about everything. If anyone had answers, that woman did and it would have been nice if she had stuck around. Glancing over at Henry again before turning back to face this man, she shrugged once more. “I figured if there was one to stick them to you there has to be one to undo it, right? My great grandmother’s journal had the first one. But most of that journal was just her day to day. She only had a few pages dedicated to ghosts.” She bit into her bottom lip, not wanting to admit that she’d known nothing about them until a few years ago. Not to a stranger, anyway. “I’m learning more as I go…maybe I can keep you in the loop. No promises but yea…”

“Blood never really bothered me. Even as a kid.” Memphis admitted, though the fact wasn’t especially interesting. Winter seemed only half interested in the conversation to start with, not that Memphis could blame her much. The two hadn’t really sought each other out at a bar on purpose. Circumstances brought them together, and in the case circumstances either stood for the drink spilled on him or a nickname for his grandparents, as Memphis was starting to wonder if the spill had been a mistake at all. “Snakes on the other hand? Totally different story. I’ll pass out on the spot.”

Memphis chuckled and held up his cheap beer as some sort of consolation prize. “Touché.” he nodded his head in Winter’s direction before sipping from the drink and abandoning it back on the table, “I guess I’m just easy to please. There are worse things to be than a cheap date, y’know?” Admittedly, Winter had a point herself. “You know, if anyone was going to believe that you were legit, a fellow medium makes the most sense. Maybe my mom was just jealous that you had turned a profit on it.” That wasn’t the case and he knew that, but Memphis had no stakes in this game to double down on his mother’s opinion of the woman or her show. Whether Memphis liked the show or not (he did not), he hardly held that against Winter. There were plenty of other things that Memphis could probably judge Winter on, her source of income seemed like the more boring option to pick. 

“Hard to say. I think some have managed. But no matter what or how they die, everyone comes back a ghost. Nobody moves on immediately.” There were family members Memphis never saw anymore, or ones that he had never met in the first place. Had they moved on or had they simply gone away? Existed somewhere else away from Memphis and his family? Memphis wouldn’t know, he had never been given any damn answers. “Spell shit is all new to me honestly. I never really considered it as an option in the first place.” He still wasn’t sure he considered it, though he had to at least try to keep an open mind, “But your logic there seems sound. If there’s one then there’s got to be the other.” Imagine that, a family member that actually gave some knowledge and context. Must have been nice. “Let’s trade numbers. I’m kind of hopeless when it comes to this ghost shit, but maybe between the two of us we can figure something new out, yeah?”

“With the things you’ve seen you’re scared of a little snake?” Admittedly, Winter had been scared of them before too but ever since the Prickly Farm incident she couldn’t say that she was anymore. Which was a little weird considering she watched a giant one swallow people whole. But it had been helping her instead of trying to hurt her so she gave that a pass. Besides, even the non-lamia snakes leave people alone as long as they aren’t scared. “Those animals are more scared of us than we are of them. It’s the only reason they fight back.” The irony of  that statement coming from a woman who attacks without bias on the daily.

“I’m just saying, you could have had some flavor with your piss water.” The medium flashed him a genuine smile, not mad that he had gone with the cheap stuff. Teasing someone without them getting offended was nice and one of her favorite pastimes. But the smile faded as he continued on about his mother and her opinions. She was starting to feel bad that she had condemned this family for their opinions on her and her mother, their correct opinions at that. So, she chose not to say anything else on the subject and instead brought her own refreshed drink to her lips. 

His next comment caught her attention though, her eyes locked on him as she realized that meant he would most likely come back as a ghost as well. Winter was torn on how to feel about that. She knew she was the type of person who would want to haunt a few people in her life but the idea of it being your time and not getting to where you were supposed to be was haunting in itself. “You’re destined to be a ghost then.” A statement, not a question, while sympathetic eyes landed on his own. Now she really wanted to help by giving this man as much information as she could find. If it were her, she would be researching the hell of the situation. 

Words sparked something in her brain. Calling it a spell, where she had been calling it a ritual, made her wonder if she had been looking in the wrong place all of this time. Maybe a spellcaster was who she needed to be talking to. But she wasn’t one of those and the saying had worked for her so this new discovery only served to confuse her more. Winter was brought back to the moment as he suggested they exchange numbers, the girl nodding without thinking much of it. “To be honest, I think you just helped me a little bit.” She took a pen from her purse, writing her number on a napkin before sliding it over to him. “I guess it’s my turn to do the same.”

“That sounds very judgy. I’ll have you know that I have every right to be terrified of anything I want to, that’s why I have a partner when I’m out working.” Memphis spoke this smugly, as if it was something to brag about. His fear of snakes was in fact very well document and very harshly criticized by the department. The amount of times his heart had nearly burst out of his skin from a rubber snake prank by the station was a bit embarrassing. Even more embarrassing that it still worked on him. “My strengths lie in other areas, like my charming personality and adorable face.” He grinned and fluttered his eyelashes in Winter’s direction, meaning it to serve as evidence to his previous statement. “I beg to differ, by the way. I’d personally argue that I am equally as afraid of the snake and both of us should maintain a healthy distance from each other.” It was like an unspoken agreement that he tried to make with any snake. For some reason, they didn’t always listen. “Besides, everyone has some kind of irrational fear. What’s yours?”

Tough crowd. Couldn’t win even as a cheap date around here. “My bad taste is nobody’s business but mine, thank you very much. I happen to enjoy my piss water.” When Memphis took another sip, he mostly stopped himself from grimacing. Okay, maybe he didn’t like this specific piss water, but his point still stood. 

You’re destined to be a ghost then? The question made his skin crawl. Memphis tried his best to not think about that, though he had never been very successful at it. There were constant reminders, including the two ghosts hovering behind him in the bar. Speaking of, they had been far too quiet. Memphis turned around briefly, only to find that they were no longer behind him. Through  the windows of the bar, he spotted a bird - a cuckoo, he regrettably knew - perched on a tree branch and his grandparents standing just beneath it. At least there was one aspect of being a ghost that they must love. “Technically, yes.” Memphis agreed, much to his own chagrin, “Though I am actively trying to make sure that never happens.”

Memphis wasn’t sure how he had possibly helped Winter, but he’d take the win. Especially if the payment came in the woman’s number. The more ghost friends he could make the better in his mind. “Hell yeah. Ghost besties!” he cheered, pumping his fist into the air dramatically. Right on cue, the man came out with his bags of food and left them on the bar. “It was genuinely nice to meet you, no offense again.” 

Winter raised a skeptical eyebrow at his argument, mostly at where his other strengths lie, but she had to give it to the man. It wasn’t often that she found someone that had the confidence to admit their fears and turn around to call themselves charming. It had her smiling softly as she shook her head. “Whatever, Flynn Rider. I’m a very judgemental person so you’ll have to get used to it if you want me around for advice.” She sipped at her drink, looking him straight in the eye when answering his next question. “I don’t have any fears.” Unless you counted a giant alligator man thing or sand sharks. Her leg still hadn’t healed all the way from that last one. Besides, this was coming from the girl who froze in frightening situations. He didn’t need to know all of that though. “Especially not irrational ones. I’m the most rational person you’ll ever meet.” Another lie. 

All she could do was give the boy a satisfied smirk as he choked down the drink, raising her own glass in the air. The medium moved on though, knowing her point was made. Moving on to the more sobering part of their conversation, she nodded solemnly at his words. Something burrowed in the back of her mind, a note to keep a look out for his type of situation in her research in case she came across something that could help him out. “I hope you find something to help you soon.” Nobody deserved that fate, not even Flynn Rider.

“Don’t ever say that again.” Winter deadpanned, the idea of ‘ghost besties’ sweaters popping into her mind. For some reason she thought he would be the type to do that and if he did she was the type who would hurt his feelings by throwing it away. Right in front of him. Her smile returned, the girl basking in the complement and almost willing to forget the insults from earlier. “I know it was. You were entertaining to speak with.” A high compliment coming from her, he just had to see it that way. “Have a good night.”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Trials and Defibrillations (6)

Prev

Duke stumbled out of the bank. Now that Two-Face had been turned back into One-Face by Duke’s fists, and the hostages had been placed in the medic’s care, his body had apparently decided that adrenaline was for losers and was now going on strike. Which was unfortunate, as it was only a little bit past noon. Usually, the temptation to crash in a nearby dumpster didn’t hit until 4 PM or so.

The only reason he didn’t was that he had been shot in the foot, and trying to walk all the way over to a dumpster sounded like it would hurt.

Also, he might bleed out while he was asleep and/or his wound could get infected, and he didn’t really want to test out the limits of his whole ‘immortality’ thing right now (or ever, if he could help it), but those were secondary concerns, he thought.

He placed a call for backup, leaning against a wall, absently watching the EMTs do their jobs…

Hold on. EMTs.

Pleasepleaseplease nooooooo, he thought.

Only to curse under his breath when he saw Adrien. Carefully tending to one of the hostages. A young girl that had been held at knifepoint by one of Two-Face’s henchmen. A small line of blood beaded on her neck, but she seemed otherwise physically fine. However, she had yet to stop staring at the horizon.

He watched as Adrien placed a shock blanket around her shoulders delicately and then crouched in front of her, pulling his surgical mask down enough to let her see the gentle smile on his face.

A wave of revulsion ran through Duke. Not necessarily because of what the EMT was doing, you are absolutely supposed to calm people who are in non-medical shock, and the EMT would need to make sure the kid was fully conscious before tending to her neck so she wouldn’t end up even further traumatized by the ordeal. No, all of that was fine. The problem was that the EMT was Adrien.

Duke was on top of the god before he had even realized that he was moving, but he was perfectly happy to follow semi-conscious-him’s line of action, balling his fist in the front of his scrubs.

Adrien pouted. “The concrete isn’t soft, you know.”

“You can’t be hurt,” Duke hissed.

From this angle, Duke could see under Adrien’s glasses. Despite the pout playing across his lips, the god’s slitted eyes were dilated to hell and back. Like a cat that had just caught sight of their favorite toy and was preparing to pounce.

“Sure,” he agreed, his voice low, “but they don’t know that.”

Duke’s eyes flicked up to find people watching the pair of them, with varying levels of horror and overall wariness.

Adrien could destroy his reputation right now, Duke realized. Could burst into tears, beg to know why Duke was doing this to him when he was just helping this little girl.

“Sorry, I mistook you for someone,” Duke said, slowly pushing himself to his feet. “There’s a serial killer going around these days, we suspect that they’re pretending to be an EMT to gain access to potential victims.”

He wasn’t even lying. Thank God – no, thank fuck for Gotham’s overall shadiness. It was a terrible place to live, but an amazing place to lie.

(Well, admittedly, he was only kind of lying about thinking it was Adrien now… he had already checked that. Unfortunately, Duke could not legally throw the guy into jail. Not that Adrien would stay there for long, anyway, knowing his luck.)

“Oh,” said Adrien. “And I guess my sunglasses and mask made me suspicious, because you can’t see any of my face.”

“Yes. I’m…” Duke started, but his voice caught in his throat. He did not want to apologize to the god of destruction, even if it was fake. Was that a petty thought? Yes. So he had to power through it. “So-rry.”

Adrien sat up on the ground, hugging his legs to his chest with a smile. “It’s fine. Do you need help with that?”

Duke blinked. “Help with what?”

Adrien jerked his chin to point at Duke’s leg, at the way he was limping ever so slightly. “You’re hurt, right? I’m a medic, I can look at it, if you want me to.”

Duke absolutely did not want that, actually.

“She needs more help than me,” Duke said, pointing at the little girl Adrien had been originally tending to, mentally apologizing for subjecting her to Adrien in his stead.

It wasn’t that Duke really thought that Adrien would hurt the girl. Or Duke himself, really. Based on everything Duke had managed to dig up on the guy, he was a genuinely good EMT. But the god probably got off to people in pain, and the idea of him ‘tending’ to anyone made Duke feel sick to his stomach.

Which was a bad thing. He didn’t need to give Adrien any more things to ‘treat’.

Adrien gave a shrug. “Suit yourself, but you should still bandage that up,” he said, reaching behind himself for a medkit, tossing it Duke’s way before turning his attention back to the kid.

+++

Duke fought the urge to take off his mask. He was getting a headache, and he desperately needed to rub his temples to soothe it. Alas, there was a person nearby.

Even worse, the person in question was the reason for said headache.

“Should have clocked out,” he muttered, before rushing to the roof that Adrien was sitting on.

The god was, seemingly, meditating, cross-legged on the ground, his eyes closed, looking more peaceful than Duke had ever seen him.

“What’s going wrong?” Duke asked.

Adrien cracked an eye open. “Heyyyy, Signal, how’s it going? Is your leg healing okay?”

“Is it below us?”

“Your leg? It’s below you –.”

“What’s going wrong?”

He pursed his lips in a pout. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes. I do,” Duke snapped.

Adrien sighed and opened his eyes fully, now, looking up at Duke, the faintest of smiles playing across his lips. “Nothing’s happening. I just needed a minute to relax.”

“On a random rooftop?”

“Marinette is experimenting on the rats again and I kept ‘getting in the way’, so I’ve been banished.”

Well. That was certainly… a sentence. Not one that made sense, but the sentence made grammatical sense, so maybe that was a skill issue on Duke’s part.

He sighed, poking and prodding Adrien’s side with his foot. “Are you lying to me?”

“I’ve got no reason to,” Adrien shrugged.

“You are literally the god of destruction,” Duke reminded him, flatly. “Something going wrong is, kind of, your thing.”

Adrien pouted. “You admit you’re into watching the world burn one time and suddenly you don’t exist beyond that.”

“Yeah. That’s how it works. It’s kinda an important personality trait, I feel.”

Adrien flopped back against the roof, splaying out starfish-style. Glaring up at the stars as if he was jealous that they were doing it better than him. “Ugh. Can’t even hate the human race in peace these days.”

“... there was a time where you could do that in peace?” Duke asked, incredulously.

“There was a time where I was worshipped,” Adrien sulked, throwing an arm over his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to see the present day anymore. “I would go ‘you’re lame and boring and beneath me’ and they’d be like ‘hell yeah we are!’ It was hilarious. Now the people who would be my old ‘stans’ are into that one clown – Joker. It’s unfair. I’m way more funny and attractive than he is. It’s bullshit.”

Literally what the fuck, Duke thought.

It was almost impressive, how Adrien ping-ponged between feeling like he was older than time itself and being a damn petulant toddler.

“You get thrown into acid one time,” Adrien said, sitting up abruptly, looking at Duke as if he must impart this wisdom (rant) upon him. “And everyone goes ‘Oh, yeah, that guy’s clearly the one to follow’. I ate acid, like, a million times, but nooooo, I’m not permanently disfigured enough or something!”

“What the fuck,” Duke said. Aloud, this time, because it was important he got his feelings across.

“I know, right?!” Adrien said, either misunderstanding his tone or deciding that Duke’s intent didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. “I mean, it’s so dumb, he’s such a poser. Kill a few people and laugh ‘evilly’ and ohhhh he must be the best murderer ever –.”

Adrien cut himself off, suddenly.

“Hm,” said Adrien, his eyes dilating. “Actually. Never mind on the ‘nothing’s happening’ thing. Pretty sure one of my neighbors is getting murdered tonight or something.”

“... I hate it here,” Duke said.

And then he rushed off to find the ‘murder or something’.

+++

He had hoped that that would be the last time he saw Adrien for the day (he would prefer to never see the god again in his very long life, really, but he wasn’t stupid enough to actually hope for something that nice). Adrien, who very much did not care about Duke’s wants, had popped by only a few minutes after the cops had taken the suspect into custody – some man had cheated on his wife and decided that this was his wife’s fault, somehow, and she must pay for ‘her’ crimes. This was not particularly unusual.

Save for the god who was leaning halfway through the window, a first aid kit hugged to his chest.

“Can I come in?” he asked, smiling kindly at the woman who was on the ground, bleeding from a wound in her stomach.

The woman was dizzy with blood loss, barely conscious, so this was more of a formality than anything.

Duke held a hand out for the first aid kit. If the couple had one in this apartment, he hadn’t been able to find it, and the multiple stab wounds were difficult to fully treat with the few supplies he was able to keep in his utility belt.

“I’ve got this, it’s my job,” Adrien said, waving him off casually. “You just got out of a big fight, you should relax.”

Duke didn’t consider that a big fight. He hadn’t even been injured outside of accidentally snapping a few of the stitches in his foot. But he was tired – Adrien’s presence tended to do that to him – and his hands were still a little shaky from wasted adrenaline.

So, he let Adrien work. Disinfecting the wounds (the victim convulsed in pain, so violently that Duke almost feared they were having a seizure, before she passed out cold), carefully dabbing away as much blood and disinfectant as he could with cotton swabs, and then taking a suture needle to the woman’s skin.

“Do you think she’ll live?” Duke asked.

In Duke’s professional opinion, it was unlikely. But, hey, maybe the god of destruction had some other ideas.

Adrien dashed his hopes with a simple shrug.

The god glanced down at the woman he was tending to for a moment. Behind his sunglasses, his gaze was almost assessing. As if the woman was a particularly interesting puzzle. Duke wanted to think that he was just thinking hard about the best way to help the woman, but he had a sinking feeling this was not it.

“So, do you just… sense pain and suffering?” Duke asked after a too-long silence.

“Not really,” Adrien said, his head tipping to the side. “I can see when someone’s set to die, but that’s not the same.”

“Then how did you –?”

“Remembered what I saw earlier... you called for an ambulance, right?”

“Yeah. They’re taking a while,” Duke said, his lips pressed into a thin line. Imagine – being slower than the cops in Gotham.

Adrien’s pupils dilated, just slightly, though his expression didn’t change in the slightest. Duke was pretty sure Adrien was aware of this tell – perhaps the sunglasses weren’t only there to keep his identity as a god a secret – but it didn’t seem like Adrien knew that Duke was in the position to see…

“Why do you ask…?”

“She’s supposed to die later tonight,” Adrien said, simply, as if he were merely talking about the weather. “I was wondering if they would get here in time or not.”

Duke shot to his feet. “What?! Can I do anything about it?!”

Adrien made a ‘so-so’ motion with his hand. “You can try. It won’t change anything. Whether she’s meant to die at the hospital or if she dies here because she doesn’t get there in time… well, it won’t make a huge difference, is all I’m saying.”

Duke scowled, pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing 911 once again. Fuck Adrien’s opinion. Duke didn’t care if there was a 99% chance this woman could die. He was still going to try for that 1%.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Where are you guys? We called for an ambulance to come to the apartment complex on 44th Street ages ago!”

There was a moment of silence, save for the woman’s fingers clacking on her keyboard.

And then the person on the other end of the line sighed. “We don’t have any record of your original call. May you tell me the address so I can relay it to our paramedic team? Which apartment are you in?”

Duke, numbly, rattled off the address again.

But, as the operator thanked him for his cooperation and hung up, his head spun.

Because it could have been a simple system error. One that shouldn’t have happened, sure, but the overreliance on tech these days was becoming a problem…

But then.

“... what the fuck,” said Adrien.

Duke looked over and found that Adrien had jumped to his feet and backed away from the person, pressing against the wall as if to get as far away from the woman as possible.

Duke couldn’t see why. Nothing about the woman’s condition had changed other than her string of new stitches. But Adrien looked like he had seen a ghost – as if Adrien specifically had seen a ghost, as in he wasn’t scared, he was stunned that they existed in the first place.

There was a knock on the door. “The paramedics have arrived! Is anyone inside conscious?”

Duke looked at the phone in his hand.

No ambulance was that fast. He hadn’t heard any sirens. A glance out the window revealed a distinct lack of ambulances.

“Okay, I’ll have to break the door down. Try to stay clear!”

Duke walked over and twisted the knob.

For just a moment, the paramedic paused, his foot raised halfway in the air in preparation to bust the door down, his eyes blown wide at the sight of Signal. And then he rushed past him, to the woman, his emergency kit in hand. As he unpacked it, he rattled off the normal questions:

“Do you know if she has any preexisting health conditions? Is she taking any medications? Does she have any allergies to –?”

“Hey, Oz,” Adrien cut in, having finally recovered from his apparent shock, slowly making his way over.

‘Oz’ flinched, hard, whirling around to look at Adrien. His eyes widened. “Adrien! Good to see you! Didn’t know you were here!”

“And I didn’t know you switched departments,” Adrien said. He took a moment to push his sunglasses up to rest comfortably in his hair. His eyes were closed in an exaggerated smile, so it shouldn’t be setting off any alarm bells… and yet Oz looked terrified. “Funny how that is. Since when have you stopped doing dispatch?”

“Its… a recent development,” Oz said.

“Very recent. I’m sure I saw you working the phone lines… well, just yesterday, actually.”

Oz glanced at the victim for a second, and then he turned and attempted to stab a syringe into Adrien’s leg.

Duke gave a sympathetic wince when the needle snapped against his skin. He’d been there before…

Adrien, however, pulled a fucking gun out of the back of his waistband.

Duke’s mouth dropped open. “Since when did you have –?!”

Adrien blinked his eyes open, and Oz nearly fell over at the sight of slitted pupils. Not that they were looking at him, not truly. Adrien’s gaze had fixed itself over the man’s head, something strange in his expression, as if he were reading something over and over again, and yet he just couldn’t make sense of it.

Finally, a faint smile quirked at the edges of his lips.

“Sorry, Oscar. You’ve done well and all, but I’m afraid your time is up.”

“What the hell –?!”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence.

With a loud bang, the man slumped to the floor, his head shattered.

Adrien turned away from the empty body, his own face splattered with blood and gore. He frowned at a small piece of… something on his own nose, going cross-eyed to look at it as he flicked it away.

“You know, Creation loves to talk about how adversity is often what inspires creativity, but guns are almost as old as I am, and nothing does small-scale damage in the way they do,” Adrien said, his tone surprisingly light and casual even after… all of that.

“Guns… gun tech has improved a lot over the years,” Duke said, faintly.

Adrien tipped his head from side to side, as if considering what he’d said. “Sure, but it’s still fundamentally the same concept, no? Isn’t it annoying that, for all of humanity’s ‘creativity’, there are only really a few ways to kill someone?”

“I kind of prefer that,” Duke said.

“I suppose that checks out, for you,” Adrien said, a little sulkily, as if he had been hoping, for some reason, that Duke would agree with him. And then Adrien brightened up, bouncing a little on his toes. “We work together well, don’t you think? We could be partners! I mean, I always show up just after you, and someone’s gotta stitch you up after fights – don’t think I didn’t notice your foot, sir!”

Ah, Duke’s headache was coming back.

“Don’t kill people. You don’t even find it fun, right? So don’t.”

Adrien’s eyebrows knit together. “I like it when people are dead, though.”

Wow. Wild sentence. Even wilder tone – as if he was genuinely confused as to why Duke would even suggest such a thing.

In the distance, Duke could hear sirens.

“... we should go,” Duke said.

“You never said no to being partners!” Adrien nearly sang.

“Know what? Never mind. Let’s stay here so I can get your annoying ass arrested.”

“Lameeeeeee. You’re a terrible partner.”

Duke groaned and grabbed Adrien by the arm, dragging him toward the window so they could leave.

+++

A few days later, while Duke was filing a report he knew his adoptive father would have some words with him about, he followed up on the woman and her health… and found her alive.

Duke thought it was nice to know that gods aren’t infallible.

+++++++

Up next: :)

Next

Trials and defibrillations masterlist

[scorchieart]

Hi! I hope it's not too late but may I request Chevalier/ 7/ Comfort/ 2nd POV pelase?

Characters: Chevalier Michel, F!Reader

POV: 2nd person Genre: Comfort

Prompt #7: “Don't worry about winning. Worry about coming home.”

Wordcount: 1295

A/N: Ripping off the bandage quick with this one. I had two VERY different ideas for this prompt, but today we're going with a young Chevalier and a young reader set in the story event when Chevalier was supposed to attend a tea party with his brothers and the children of the nobility... but it didn't go so well. Thank you for the request!

You tucked the ends of your tulle skirt into the cuffs of your socks after they slipped out for the sixth time. The dress you wore was pretty, polished, and poofy, none of which was particularly pragmatic for your spontaneous stealth mission. As you spread your puffy-sock-covered legs across the luxurious rug in what you assumed was a study, you wondered how long it would take before someone noticed you were missing, when the sound of the door opening stiffened your limbs.

The velvet armchair you’d chosen as your hiding place was excellent for concealing your uncooperative skirt, but impractical for reconnaissance. Keeping as still as possible, you counted the seconds in your mind until the door shut again, and nearly stood to check that the coast was clear until the sound of footsteps froze you in your spot again.

The game’s up, you thought, patting your dress free from the dust and lint that accumulated over the morning. You would have to answer for slipping away, yes, but the least you could do was look presentable in your confession.

You craned your neck toward the door to catch a glimpse of your discoverer, fully expecting whoever it was to be visible even from your limited view, but found no one. 

How strange. Those footsteps were definitely coming from inside the room, and there’s no way anyone could conceal themself so quickly upon entering. Why, you had squeezed yourself into all the nooks and crannies before deciding upon the chair as your best option. The poofy skirt severely limited your options, so what of an adult twice your size? No, the only logical explanation was that this someone had been in this room before.

You repositioned yourself so that you were crouching, the skirt slipping out from your socks again, and popped your head over the armrest. Sure enough, there was nobody standing in the doorway, or by the window, or in front of the bookshelf, or at the desk, or next to the fireplace. But there was someone sitting in the armchair. A young boy with striking light hair and furrowed brows, looking straight down at you with his shining blue eyes.

You wanted to scream, but the moment you opened your mouth a hand roughly covered it and pushed you back down to sit. Then there was a thud as the boy landed beside you and crouched behind the chair.

“Mmguhmma!” you said from behind his hand, which you hoped would be interpreted as “Who are you?” or “Let me go!” or even “Go find your own hiding place, you boorish cur!” but the boy only scowled and brought the pointer finger of his free hand to his lips. 

Something about the way he faced you ticked you off the wrong way. Maybe it was the way he so seamlessly entered the room and cornered you, or how he effortlessly took control even though you’d been here first, or his stare that seemed to freeze and pierce deeper through your skull with every passing second. Regardless of what it was you wanted out, and you raised your arms to push him away when voices from the hall stopped you.

“I think he went through here,” said one voice.

“Don’t pull a muscle, I’ll bet he’s gone to the library,” sighed a second. “Oh, why did we get stuck with finding him? I wanted to spend my afternoon eating teacakes, not chasing down beasts!”

“Remember, you’re on duty,” warned the first voice. “You’re not supposed to be eating.”

“I’m not supposed to be hunting down Prince Chevalier either. I think I deserve a reward,” huffed the second.

Your arms dropped limply to your sides as you stared back at the boy. Was this the Prince Chevalier? The peerless prodigy who memorized libraries, commanded armies, and dominated Rhodolite’s elite?

“He’s only a child,” said the first voice, sounding less assured with each word.

“He’s no normal child,” said the second. “You’re still new here, but when it comes to Prince Chevalier, you never want to get involved. You saw what happened in the garden, even his own flesh and blood can’t bear to be around him.”

“They’re only children, too! None of them even looked remotely interested in the tea party. Why did all those counts and dukes have to drag their children into their messed up politics?”

“It’s all a game to them, the world of the nobles. They’ll use their own kin as pawns to get even the tiniest bit ahead, because that’s how you play and that’s how you win. But when it comes to those noble beasts you don’t worry about winning. You worry about coming home.”

The room grew cold the longer Chevalier’s stared on you, and your jaw began to tremble. You wished you could at least turn away, but his grip never loosened as the conversation wore on, and his eyes never wavered from yours.

“It’s not right,” the first voice said after a long pause. “It’s just not right.”

“It doesn’t matter what we think’s right or wrong. We just do our job and pray we don’t cross the wrong path. The sooner you learn, the better,” said the second voice.

“Well, we still have to find him,” said the first.

“Don’t pull a muscle, the party’ll last all afternoon.”

It wasn’t until the footsteps completely died away that Chevalier finally released his hold on you, and as soon as he did, you quickly crawled backward, ripping the tulle in your haste, until you collided hard with the bookshelf, your chest galloping up and down like a sprinting horse. 

“If you’re going to cry, get it over with and go back outside,” Chevalier said sharply as he stood. The immense relief you felt when his eyes finally left yours was immeasurable, but as easily as the dread trickled away, sorrow was quick to take its place.

“What happened at the party?” you asked.

“If you weren’t hiding, you would know,” he said.

“I’m not h-hiding!” you stammered, getting to your feet. “I only got lost!”

“So lost that your first words when someone found you were ‘Go find your own hiding place, you boorish cur’?”

Your face grew hot. So hot that even Chevalier’s returned wintry stare couldn’t cool your flaming cheeks. “You startled me,” you said.

“You mean terrified. They all do,” he said.

“No— you don’t terrify me, Prince Chevalier!” you said quickly. 

“They always lie, too.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then I will direct you back to the party and we can go our separate ways.”

Your lips trembled as he stood by the door and folded his arms. You wanted to crawl back behind the armchair and sink into the dark velvet, but you felt certain his eyes would pierce through the fabric undeterred no matter what. You stared at the ground, grabbing fistfulls of your skirt.

“I can’t go out there. My dress is ruined,” you said, not believing your own flimsy excuse. 

“Only torn. It can be easily mended,” he said. “A simple overhand or running stitch will suffice. There is a sewing kit in that desk.”

“But I don’t know how to sew,” you said.

“There are books in the library with pictures,” he said impatiently.

“Will you show me?”

“Haven’t I helped you enough?”

“Yes, so let me help you back.”

Chevalier’s brows furrowed, though unlike when he first found you, this time was out of confusion.

“Those people said they’ll be looking for you in the library, right? Tell me which shelf the books are, and I’ll bring them back here and we can fix my dress,” you said.

“And exactly how does that help me?” he asked.

“Because you don’t want to be alone as much as I don’t want to go out there," you said. "You came into this room knowing someone was here, right?”

When I attend social gatherings I didn't want to go to, I pass the time looking at the other guests and wondering who else didn't want to be there.

Tagging: @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx @otomefoxystar

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.

[sometimes-you-write]

Trapped Inside My Mind

[Plain text: "Trapped Inside My Mind". End plain text.]

Multi-chapter.

Chapter 1 : The ancient evil trapped in amber.

Chapter summary : You, Finn, and Jake are meditating with Princess Bubblegum in her castle when suddenly she has to check on something very, very important.

Of course things go wrong and now you have a world to save.

It was supposed to be a relaxing day, damnit!

Masterlist

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

Fandom : Adventure Time.

CW/TW : none unless you count swearing.

Author's note : I'm so happy I wrote this and I hope you guys enjoy it.

English is not my first language so tell me if I wrote anything wrong.

The reader here is gender neutral and will use they/them pronouns.

Also there is no use of Y/N.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

"Guys, what I am supposed to be meditating about?" Asked a thirteen years old human boy as he whispered.

His name was Finn, he had white skin and blonde hair which was hidden by a white hat that resembled a bear. He was wearing black shoes with white socks, dark blue shorts, a blue shirt with short sleeves, and he was carrying a green backpack.

"Don't know." Surprisingly a yellow dog replied. "I'm thinkng of pillows stuffed with spaghetti."

His name was Jake, he was a magical talking dog who could walk in two legs. He had yellow fur, floppy ears and two cute big eyes.

Finn and Jake were also brothers.

"Pillows stuffed with what?" A third voice asked, wondering if they heard wrong.

That person was you.

You, like Finn, were a human. You were wearing brown boots with black socks, gray jeans, a white shirt with short sleeves, a duffle hooded jacket of your favorite color, and you were carrying a leather satchel.

"With spaghetti." Jake replied again.

You felt a hand on the top of your head before you could say anything else.

"Clear your minds."

"Right! Sorry, Princess." You said while she was doing the same with Finn and Jake.

Her name was Princess Bubblegum, she had pale pink skin and long pink hair, long enough it reached her ankles. She was wearing casual pink yoga pants and shirt, pink shoes, a hot pink cardigan sweater, and a golden crown with a blue gem.

Princess Bubblegum, PB for short, had invited you and the boys to meditated with her in her castle.

Apparently, meditating helped you become stronger in a spiritual way.

While Finn complaining that it was "boring", you and Jake were all for it.

You don't know how Jake feels, but you were a little stressed.

Last week, you, Finn, and Jake, were on a mission to rescue Hot Dog Princess's knights from a maze they got lost in.

The three of you found them easily and were about to get out, but one of the knights said something about a magical creature that granted wishes in the center of the maze.

You weren't interested, but the two boys were, they both seemed to have the same wish.

The ancient psychic tandem war elephant.

In the end you all entered the labyrinth to find those wishes and, to not get lost, Jake has tied his legs to something and start to stretch.

You may wonder, how was that possible? Well, that's because Jake had shapeshifting powers! He could change into anything he wanted… but it seems that even he had limits.

The deeper you went into the maze, the more he stretched and the more he stretched, the smaller he became.

You tried to stop him, but he wasn't listening.

You finally arrived at the center of the maze, where you guys found what seemed to be a mud snake.

You thought one of the knights was going to wish for Jake to be okay... but you forgot they were... slow. One of them wished for a box while the other literally exploded.

Poor Jake was so disoriented that he ended up wishing for a sandwich. That left you and Finn.

You were going to make your wish and save Jake, but it seemed like the snake was enjoying watching him die and said it was Finn's turn, so you couldn't do anything.

You knew how much he wanted to wish for the elephant, you were about to tell him that you can wish the elephant for him, so that he could save his brother, but it seemed that he had other plans.

He wished for the elephant and began to communicate with him telepathically.

And apparently because the elephant was there, he was also granted a wish and ended up wishing for everyone to be healed.

And with that Jake and the knights were okay, then the elephant took all of you home.

You still had a wish, but you didn't use it yet, you just kept it in a jar and hid it in your closet.

The snake had said that there were no do-overs.

You expected today to be a relaxing day.

You took a deep breath and tried to clear your mind, but all that effort went out the window as PB gasped in fear.

"I have to go check on something!"

"Can we go with?" Finn asked.

"Perhaps you are ready to go with." PB answered after a few seconds.

"Are you sure, princess?" You asked. "We can stay here if you want."

"Yes, i'm sure."

"Alright." You said as Finn and Jake bumped their fists.

"Guys, you'll need to put these on." PB said as she took off a pair of earrings from her ears.

After putting each earring, which were apparently also tiaras, on Finn and Jake's heads, she removed a necklace from her neck and put it on yours.

Everything around you turned a transparent blue for a second.

"Neat." You heard Jake say.

Then PB touched the gem on her crown and then a transparent blue bubble surrounded her head.

Oh, so that's what happened a second ago.

"Stay close to me." PB said before clapping her hands.

Then her butler, Peppermint, appeared and blew a very large bubble, big enough for the four of you to get inside and once inside the bubble began to float upwards, up to the tree on the top of the castle.

"At the heart of this tree is an ancient evil, held in a prison of amber…" You gave PB your full attention.

The bubble burst once you reached your destination.

"The Lich."

You gasped at what was before you.

There, trapped in amber, was the Lich.

The first thing you noticed were its horns, they resembled those of a goat, the left one was intact while the right one was broken.

Then you looked at it's face, it had horrific green lights as pupils peering out of its empty eye sockets, and pale undead skin pulled tight against its noseless skull. Its skin is frayed away from its lips revealing a wicked and perpetual grin. Its arms are bare bones with various decayed tissues, showing off its skeletal hands. It was wearing loose robe with multiple layers and a large cape that is severely torn at its end.

You had never seen anything like this, not even in the three years you were in the land of Ooo.

"Jesus christ." You whispered.

And if that wasn't enough, you started hearing things, they sounded like meaningless whispers.

"What's that sound?" Finn asked as you looked around trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

"He is casting spells… trying to get in your head and control your bob, but these gems are protecting our minds from his influence." PB said making you touch the necklace she gave you. "If we lost the gems, we'd be defenceless, he would have full control over us."

"That's freaking nuts." Finn exclaimed.

You stared at the Lich fow for a few seconds before looking back at PB.

"Beyond Iceberg Lake lies the ruins of the Lich's tower, where he was converting the planet's life-force into unholy power to destroy all of Ooo." PB explained. "But before he could, the Legendary Billy attacked him and pummeled him into the resin of this tree."

Billy, you remember meeting that guy, like, a few months ago.

Your train of thought come to a stop when you heard the sound of something breaking.

"Is it just me or do you guys also hear that?" You asked nervously.

"I thought i was the only one." Jake answered.

"I… what the nuts?!" PB screamed with fear.

You, Finn, and Jake, turned around and gasped in shock.

The Lich has escaped! But how?!

"Dude, be a big sword!" Finn told Jake, who did so without hesisation.

Finn then grabbed Jake and used him to hit the Lich… but it didn't work because he ended up escaping.

PB gasped and shout. "Quickly! To the other secret room!"

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

PB had taken the three of you to a room with a closet, a chest, and a window.

"There's only one know weapon that can harm the Lich…" PB said as she opened the closet. "The gauntlet of the hero."

Inside the closet was a large gray gauntlet with one eye, which was closed, on the back of the hand and a blue gem on the back of the wrist.

You've always wondered why Billy didn't have his gauntlet when you met him, it turns out it was here all the time.

PB put the gauntlet on your right hand and said. "You have but one chance. While the Lich isn't at full power, you must smite him with this."

"Cool." You said in amazement after witnessing the glove shrink to your size.

"His only desire is to destroy life." PB whispered while grabbing a crystal ball, the ball showed an underground entrance. "If you fail, he'll kill everyone." Now the ball was showing the Lich with fire in the background.

"No! That will not happen!" Finn declared as you nodded.

"That's right!"

PB smiled, then walked towards the chest and opened it. "Finn, this is for you, The Lich's lair is supposed to be cold. I just don't want you to get sick." She took out a pink sweater and gave it to him. "Take this sweater, I made it myself. I'm not great at knitting, but please wear it… I care about you, Finn."

"I love it." Finn replied after putting it on.

PB then hugged him, you and Jake didn't hesitate to join the hug.

Not a second later, the four of you were startled by the sound of the window opening.

All of you gasped.

"Hey, hey, hey!"

"Mothertrucker! You again?!" It was all you said the moment you realized who it was.

His name was Ice King, he was a crazy and annoying old wizard. He had pale blue skin, a long nose, long white hair and beard. He was wearing a dark blue robe and a golden crown with three red gems.

"So, I've been thinking about this a lot lately and, well… gosh i'm so nervous."

"What the heck do you want?" You asked with annoyance.

He looked at you and asked. "Will you gave me your blessing so i can marry Princess Bubblegum?"

It took you a few seconds to comprehend what you had just heard and when you did it… you were furious.

"Not in a million years! Get out of here you old pig!" You yelled before running towards the window.

"What?! Why are you calling me that?!" He asked angrily.

You didn't even answer him, you just closed the window.

"No! Not the latch!"

"Quickly now, guys." PB said. "Track the Lich by his trail of death."

"Here i go!" Finn exclaimed before he started running.

"Oh no, you don't!" You interrupted and grabbed him by the back of his sweater. "You are going to stay here."

"What?! Why can't i go?!"

"I need you to protect the princess, Finn." You said. "You know how batshoot crazy the Ice King is, you need to stay here and make sure he doesn't kidnap her."

You weren't exaggerating, the Ice King was crazy, he was obsessed with marrying a princess to the point that he even kidnapped them.

And you may wonder, how can Finn, a thirteen years old boy, protect PB from Ice King, a wizard?

Well, that's because kicking the Ice King's ass is easier than one might think.

Yes, even to the point a thirteen years old could kick his ass.

"I guess you are right." Finn said quietly.

"Come one, Jake!" You shouted before running out of the room.

"Here i go!"

"Be safe." You heard PB say.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

The two of you were running through the candy forest following the Lich's trail of death, which was not a difficult thing to do.

"Be honest with me, did you want Finn to protect PB or was that just a excuse so he won't come?" Jake asked.

"Actually is a little bit of both, if Finn is with the princess, he will protect her from the Ice King and he won't get close to the Lich." You answered. "is a win-win scenario!"

You knew Finn very well, you knew he could defend himself.

But if the Lich is as bad as PB says he is, you didn't want to risk the young boy getting hurt or worse.

"Running this fast makes my stomach hurt." Jake commented after you crossed a bridge.

"Come on, Jake!" You looked back at him, still running. "we are getting close to the-"

You couldn't finish what you were saying because you bumped into something.

When you looked up, you realized it wasn't something but someone.

"What the fuck, Ice King?!" You shouted before pushing him out of the way.

"Hey! Wait! I'm serious about Bubblegum."

Neither you nor Jake paid attention to him and kept running.

Suddenly, the Ice King began to float and got in front of you while saying. "Look, i wrote her name all over my arms and legs!"

"Aaaahh!" You and Jake started screaming in horror and disgust.

The Ice King showed the two of you his arms and legs which had written "Princess Bubblegum" all over them.

Forget the Lich, this was the most horrifying thing in the world!

You and Jake started running again, still screaming.

Ice King started following you. "It's not fair! She always hangs out with the three of you!" He looked at you and said. "And it's not like you want to marry her!"

"Of course i don't want to fucking marry her, you pig! She is almost three decades younger than me!" You yelled.

"Why do you keep following us?!" Asked Jake who was already getting tired of this, you shared that feeling.

"I told you already! I want your blessing so i can marry Princess Bubblegum!"

You and Jake just ignored him and kept running, hoping he would get tired of this and leave.

Of course that doesn't happen and now you're stuck inside an ice dome.

"Come on, give me permission to marry her. I'll… i'll-"

You interrupted him. "I have already told you! Not in a million years!"

"Oh, come on! If you bless our wedding, then maybe she'll really love me."

"I told you no, you idiot! Now get out of the way before I punch you!" You warned him.

"I will! When you bless our wedding!"

Without hesitation, you punched him in the face with the gauntlet.

Hey, you did warn him.

"Aaaahh! My nose!" He screamed in pain.

"Jake, get us out of here."

"I'm on it." Jake said as he shapeshifted his fist into a bigger fist and punching the ice walls.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

Soon you and Jake found yourselves on a beach and ran towards the shore.

"Hey! This is the place Finn and I found you frozen!" Jake commented.

Once you were on the shore, Jake pointed to the lake and said. "There! Out over the lake!"

You could see the Lich rise from the water and start floating away from you.

"Jake, turn into a boat!" You told him.

"I'm your dinghy dog!"

You and Jake started following him but then you noticed that you were doing it very slowly.

"Jake, wait! I will see if can use this thing!" You shouted as you put the gauntlet in the water. "Now, how do I use this?" You asked yourself before tapping it with your left hand.

Suddenly, the eye on the gauntlet opened, revealing a green eye and a black triangular pupil, and shot a beam from the palm.

"Aaaahh!" You and Jake started screaming, not expecting that.

At least that helped! You and Jake were going faster now.

"We are getting closer!" Jake shouted.

"On the count of three!" You shouted before pulling the gauntlet out of the water and pointing it at the Lich.

"One… two… three!"

But before you could blast the Lich, the Ice King got in the way! And he had…

"Finn?! Princess?!" You shouted with horror in your eyes before poiting the gauntlet away from them and into the water. "No!"

You and Jake ended up being shooted to the sky.

"Oh, no." Ice King commented before he, PB, and Finn, ended up getting soaked. "Oh gross. This water stinks"

Once you and Jake were on the shore, you yelled so loudly that your throat hurt. "Ice King!!"

"Look! Look what you made me do to them!" He yelled as he showed you PB and Finn, who had their wrists frozen.

"I didn't made you do anything, you stupid son of a-!"

PB interrupted you. "Guys! Don't let the Lich reach his well of power!"

Before you or Jake could say anything, you heard an explosion going off.

"What is that?! "Finn asked alarmed.

"Oh no! He made it!" PB shouted.

"Princess, don't worry! We still got time!" You hoped you were right.

You and Jake started running and ended up finding an underground entrance.

"Hey, where are you guys going? What's going on?" Ice King asked.

You just ignored him and got inside.

Soon you and Jake found yourselves in a…

"A underground subway?" You asked in surprise while looking around and taking note of the skeletons on the ground.

"You were here before?" Jake asked.

"No, but i know what it is. We had these things back in my time… damn, I sound old saying that."

You suddenly heard something akin to someone shushing before the witnessing all of the skeleton getting up.

"Oh, fuck!" You cursed before activating the gauntlet and blasting all of them. "We don't have time for this."

"Then let's go." Jake said before he started running.

Before you could follow him, you felt something grabbing your satchel. You looked down and saw it was a skeleton.

"Oh hell no!" You yelled before stomping on its head, breaking its skull without problem.

You were next to Jake when you two felt the floor shake, you looked down and saw that it wasn't the floor, you were on top of a giant skeleton!

You, without thinking, activated the gauntlet and blasted it, unfortunately you accidentally also made a hole in the floor and the two of you fell down there.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

You and Jake didn't stop screaming or falling but then you saw a pipe.

You grabbed Jake with your left arm and grabbed the pipe with the gauntlet before you two turned into pancakes.

Not far from you was another hole in the floor, you got closer to it and saw…

"The Lich." you whispered.

The Lich was in front of what appeared to be a well filled with… green stuff, for the lack of better word, and then dipped his hands there.

"He's getting his powers back. weird." Jake commented before climbing onto your back.

"Well, not for long." you whispered before blasting him.

Unfortunately, he dodged it.

You keep blasting him, but he keeps dodging.

You jumped down and started falling towards the Lich to blast him in the face.

But he grabbed you by the wrist, the one with the gauntlet.

"Oh, no." You said nervously.

The Lich got his face close to yours and brought his skeletal index finger to his non-existential lips.

He shushed and the gauntlet exploded.

You and Jake were in pure shock.

The Lich then grabbed Jake and threw him across the room.

"Jake!"

You tried to get the Lich to let go, but he grabbed you by the chin and made you look at him.

Your frightened eyes staring back at his empty eye sockets.

After the Lich finished examining you, that's what you think he was doing, he threw you to the other side of the room.

You ended up hitting the back of your head against the wall.

You lost consciousness for a couple of seconds but managed to stay awake.

"Ice King, let us go right now!"

You prayed to God for that not to be Finn, you prayed to God for that not to be Finn.

You looked up and saw Ice King with, yep, PB and Finn.

"You get to be kidding me!" You shouted angrily.

"Jake!" Finn screamed watching his brother dodge a green fireball thrown by the Lich.

Finn then hit the Ice King with his frozen wrists.

"Aaaahh! Why do people keep hitting my nose?!" Ice King screamed in pain and dropped Finn.

Once on the floor, Finn broke the ice on his wrists and ran to his brother.

"Jake, are you okay?!" Finn asked.

"That's it! I'm gonna bark him!" Jake exclaimed before grabbing his brother and using his shapeshifting powers to stretch towards the Lich.

This turned out to be a bad idea because the Lich ended up hitting him in the face with a fireball.

"No!" You and PB shouted.

Jake started falling with Finn under him.

You felt your heart stop at the sound of a gem breaking.

"Finn." You whispered watching the young boy get up… his eyes turning black with green pupils.

Finn clutched his head in pain and screamed. "Stop!"

He stopped after a few seconds and started walking towards… the well.

"No!" You shouted before standing up and running towards him.

You grabbed him by the back of his sweater and dragged him away from the well. Once you were away he tried to fight you, so you did the first thing that came to your mind.

You took out your necklace and put it on him.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

Everything around you… turned black… and so very cold.

You looked around… but could see nothing but absolute darkness.

You felt so cold that you quickly pulled up the zipper of your jacket.

Then you heard an unknown voice calling your name.

You looked around and discovered it was the Lich.

"Aren't you cold?" He asked.

Yes… yes, you were cold.

"Walk into the well."

You tried not to do that, you really did, but you couldn't stop.

You started walking towards the well but then you felt something akin to arms grabbing you around the middle trying to stop you, but you were stronger so you kept walking although with a little difficulty.

Then you felt like you couldn't move anymore, you tried to move your legs but you couldn't.

You looked down but saw nothing.

What's happening?

You looked up and saw the Lich throw fire at you.

You tried to move but couldn't.

But the fire didn't do anything to you, it didn't even touch you.

You took note that the Lich seemed surprised.

Why?

Then the Lich started screaming.

He also started moving weird, from your point of view it seemed as if he was hitting himself against something.

Now he started laughing and laughing, to the point that it was causing you a headache.

Then he disappeared.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

You gasped once everything was clear again and you could see again.

"Finn! Buddy!"

You saw Jake on the other side of the well with Finn on the ground over what seemed to be dust.

"Jake?" Finn asked before exclaiming. "Jake!"

"Finn!" You shouted. "Are you alright?!"

"Yes! I'm alright!" Finn replied with a smile and asked. "Are you alright?!"

"Yes!" You tried to go towards them, but you couldn't move your legs. "What the-"

You looked down and noticed that you were trapped in ice, from your feet to your knees.

"Why are my legs frozen?"

"Finn saved you!" Jake said.

"Finn! You did it!" PB exclaimed with a smile.

"We did?" Ice King asked. "Hey! Yeah, we did!"

That made you raise an eyebrow.

Did he actually do something or is he just talking nonsense?

"You guys! This experience has brought us all so much closer together." Ice King looked at PB and said. "Princess, I'm sorry for all of this. I love you, and I've decided to set you free!"

That made you sigh with relief.

Ice King melted the ice on PB's wrists and let her go. "Go free!"

"Noooooo!!!" You, Finn, and Jake, shouted in horror.

And why is that?

Because he dropped her into the fucking well!

"Whoops! I've got the dropsies!

None of you said anything, you didn't even insulted him.

You all just stared at the well.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

Next chapter ]|[ Masterlist

[delicatebluebirdruins]

read the tags on a post by @weird-life-of-a-closet-fangirl hope you don't me tagging you, you just had some interesting points in your tags (also tumblr why can't i use question marks in some asks? this got so annoying today)

Mia didn't really decide as such when Eveline was another monster but the only reason Mia fought against Eveline (to the point Lucas and Marge both thought that at some point Evie was going to get tired of waiting for her) was because she knew Ethan was safe (she during a storm tried to send him a video telling him that he was right about her lying to him, to stay away from her and forget about her and have a good life) but then he wasn't because Ethan was sent an email from her account as he never got that video. And when Mia officially rejected Eveline was after the tape of Mia trying to talk to Evie and Evie going on a murderous rampage instead

so Mia was in the padded cell for 2 years from the 4th November 2015 its the file on Lucas's laptop along with the next and final entry of the email logs being Eveline getting more people kidnapped. (still want to know the act of violence from Mia that got Lucas of all people to lock her up)

Sent: Friday, November 4, 2015 2:10 AM That bitch Mia is still somewhere in between Evie-La-La Land and reality. She gets pretty violent, so I locked her up in a cell. I thought maybe Eveline would get mad since Mia’s her favorite and all, but she doesn’t seem to care. She actually goes and visits her sometimes. She thinks Mia’s her mommy. Like I said, your “bioweapon” is fucked up.

Sent: Friday, September 1, 2016 1:10 AM Eveline’s family obsession is getting out of hand. She’s making everyone kidnap more and more assholes off the street to add to her freak show of a family. Maybe she’s getting tired of Mia not coming around, but it’s a pain in the ass for me because I gotta clean up the mess whenever someone new comes along. By the way, Evie’s looking sick or something. Her skin is getting all wrinkly and she’s getting grey hairs. Is that supposed to happen? It’s almost like she’s getting old all of a sudden.

Now that I think of it I have two theories for how Evie learned of Ethan and decided that he was the key to getting Mia to accept her

1 From the start because surely she saw either video being made but didn't think about using it until later (not as likely but still a possibility)

2 personally i think in amongst the victims that were brought in to the guest house smaller scale operation there considering the needles (I have to wonder if some of those was used on Mia) and the body bags so I think that in the limited view of the room at large from Mia's cell but what you can see from the cell is the table with the list of names and pictures of victims (true the same ones you see through out the games but maybe they were the "successful" ones that they kept trying to emulate) and complacency or exhaustion on Mia's part and a victims picture on the murder board and a voice begging for mercy sounding a little to close for comfort makes that wall she probably placed around thoughts of Ethan come crumbling down and someone was around to take note of how important Ethan was to Mia and everything goes as normal

now as for Village I really wish capcom kept her with the wheelchair or gave her a cane (for this reason and additional moment of offness for Ethan to notice but is too tired to focus on the RE3R was great in showing Jill's mental state and how she partially missed the city going to hell) because in the cutscene where we find Mia https://youtu.be/NkavqZJywp4 (also quick question with the village being blasted surely leaving someone underground would not be a good idea? like with air vents and exits?) look how she moves when coming out of the cell (screenshots for my own reference) it could be because she knows about Miranda's ability to shapeshifting but the second screenshot looks like she is using the box for support and checking on her leg before coming after Chris (has anyone done a freecam thing for this bit?)

Mia as a whole there is a lot to cover and I hope RE9 is about her (if not I'm going to be very annoying) taking down the connections from the inside as Mia is one of the few people we know who worked for them who is also still alive Alan? dead, Lucas? dead, Miranda? Dead. with a small playable section with Jill (character interaction i think would be fun to see) and Rose (she getting her own kind of justice for Evie)

[axl-ul]

Flickering Lights Always Watch Those Who Are About to Drown

(A short story as a small thank you and a celebration for 100 followers which happened some while ago. I know, I'm late, hehe. Again, thanks a lot!)

Ulfrika slowly made her way through the narrow street filled with litter and flickering street lamps. The old newspapers, used napkins, even reeking clothes not only constantly posed themselves in the doctor’s way, they also gave the street its distinct smell. Sour, humid, dirty. One that makes a person bend forward and throw up between the two blue garbage cans with suspicious rustling coming from inside.

Despite her narrow nose being quite proficient, she did not mind the circumstances. In fact, she came to tolerate, no, she came to respect the gloomy atmosphere of the path to her flat once her work shift at the hospital ended. Certainly, she could easily take the tram and be at home much faster. But walking was something that offered more freedom for her thoughts to rise from under the hardened crust of her mind.

The first quarter of the moon watched the concrete sentinels as the strict mask of the daytime city began to unravel in the pure chaos. Silver threads of the light equally shone on Ulfrika’s lanky shoulders and thick brown hair she let slither by the sides of her sunken cheeks. A pleasant tickling for sure. So much different from the cold freezers she worked with but still not as quite right as the fur of her loyal companion. A deep sigh. Oh, how much she missed her dearest friends!

The dry skin of her fingers easily matched the colour of the distant celestial body. Those fingers, so long and unnaturally thin, hold the cigarette firmly as if she were still wielding a scalpel instead.

She took another puff and snorted. A bad habit for a person, even worse for a doctor and yet she couldn’t bring herself to care less. After all, her only patients were corpses waiting for a trustworthy autopsy.

She thought further as she finally walked out of the uncertain shadows and quickly crossed the road before another moron didn’t stick with the speed limit.

Her lips moved in silence, all the words she thought were only painted in her deep eyes,“I suppose those cadavers have to be just as patient as I am every month so I can see my paycheck…“

Somebody honked the horn behind her back. Yet, she did not turn. Her legs were as if on an autopilot, always driving forward, never back. Shiny shop windows cast white and yellow, rarely orange, light on the pavement where her feet briskly but inaudibly trod. The further she went, new colours, signs, bars, shops, kiosks and other wonders emerged from the dull background. More and more people, demons and spirits were passing by her. The mass of strangers drowning in ecstasy of a late evening moved like a wild river.

It was all so strange, familiar, distant and close, too fast and still so slow for her to ignore. What was that ‘it’, though? She herself didn’t know the answer. The feeling, the smells mixing in the air of the colourful street, the goosebumps on her skin while the warmth underneath the long jacket with a hood persisted… Or was it the noise ringing, drumming on her eardrums, the smoke pleasantly burning her lungs, one of the few things that had made her feel something, anything, these last few months. Or was it years? Again, the doctor was unsure. Ulfrika stopped counting a long time ago.

Even though the majority of people around were heavily intoxicated, laughing and chatting or vomiting by the corner, a small crew standing by the staircase of a pub let their gaze linger on the half-breed for too long. A woman no more than twenty five narrowed her eyes and focused on Ulfrika’s distant face. Immediately, those eyes widened in horror as the woman turned to her friends. When her trembling index poked back to the spot, the pale doctor was no longer there.

Ulfrika quickened her pace and threw the dark hood over her head so the shadows could consume her once more. The gesture wasn’t done by her out of fear. Thick eyebrows furrowed, although beneath them her abysmal eyes, so deep and dark and eternal, kept their emptiness as if the outer world could not possibly penetrate the stone visage.

The day’s been hard. Too many traffic accidents have occurred lately. The memory of a proper lunch was too hazy. Her back was arched the whole time and her hands in a constant cautious motion. Not to mention all the paperwork. What was worse, the smouldering end of her cigarette is now slowly dying. Unnecessary trouble was the last thing she needed at that moment, though they were not more than flies buzzing around her ear.

At last, she saw a corner with a convenience store. The sign in the shape of a smiling cartoon dog, a colourful portrait of the owner’s pet friend, flickered then came back. Snacks and drinks were gazing into the quiet part of the quarter and also right into Ulfrika’s growling stomach.

She turned to the left around the corner and continued. The low dike with a pavement created a border between the sleepy street and a slowly flowing river. Its river bed was small, not much of a threat to the citizens. Only to the crickets on the opposite shore which were hiding in the thick bushes and whose chirps were on par with the river’s humming. The waves licked the protruding stones and rocks, the water teeth bit into the floating logs and twigs.

The strange cradle created by the nearby nature as well as the city rocked Ulfrika’s sleepy mind. The doctor was adamant to reach her home, her bed with a simple pillow where her pets would snuggle close to her side. Brisk steps went quicker and quicker. Her inhales were deep and exhales powerful. Small clouds of breathed out autumn air surrounded her nose.

Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. Her ears pricked up.

A whimper. A weak, silent whimper carried by the soft breeze. It sounded sorrowful, frightened. But where was the source of it?

Ulfrika followed the sound. In a matter of a few minutes she noticed a small paper box from shoes stuck in the shallow waters as she leaned over the old handrail, its metal surface matching the coldness of her own skin upon the touch. She put down her hood and listened further. Truly, the drenched box was making those noises. Or whatever that was inside.

She had a guess, though.

She hung her warm jacket over the metal tube with a flaked colour and jumped over the barrier. Carefully sliding down the hill, Ulfrika landed right beside the rock formation. The cardboard box was now floating in the cold water only a short distance away. A distance she could easily overcome by four long steps.

The street lamp’s light didn’t quite reach her but the moon was bright, the sky cloudless and her sight eerily sharp. Ulfrika carefully entered the cold stream. Her steps were slow as she didn’t wish to experience a hard fall on the slippery surface. Only when she was waist deep in the freezing stream did she manage to reach her goal. Picking up the item, she smelt it while returning to the shore. Wet fur.

Long nails found no obstacle in the duct tape around. She ripped open the upper part and curiously peeked inside.

In the corner, a tiny shivering and yowling puppy was looking back at her. Its fearful dark eyes were gazing up from under the large floppy ears. The muzzle was covered in deep scars, the upper lip carried a deep cut which revealed a set of teeth and swollen gums. There were several places on the pup’s neck where its caramel brown fur was missing. The black back was no different with the bald spots and the lifted paw marked a rough fate as well.

“Poor baby…“ Ulfrika sighed as her brows furrowed all the while a web of wrinkles emerged on her pale forehead.

The little puppy whined once again, demanding safety far away from the cold flowing abyss where it had been thrown.

“Let’s get you out of here, alright?“ She slowly returned to the shore and climbed up. Finally, after reaching a safe spot under the white light of the street lamp, she carefully took out the puppy. At first, the defenceless creature snapped its miniature jaw in hopes of biting the doctor. Ulfrika didn’t mind though. The only thing she dropped was the old cardboard. Her deep soothing voice reached out,“Hush, little one. You’re safe now. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. But you just need to trust me a bit. I understand it’s a tough decision. But you have to try. Can you do that?“

The dog in her hand went silent and tilted the head as if it really understood the gentle words, although there was always the mark of undying untrust in the creature’s look.

The doctor wrapped the puppy in her jacket and approached the nearby convenience store while the wind rose up and harshly hit her from behind. Dark hair floated as the whipping tongues of the autumn glided by her. Her head resembled a wretched beast from the darkest abyss.

Clink! The cracked door opened, though the hinges creaked and squeaked. The wind fought its way inside, too. The force of it made the several hanging posters swing, but fortunately it wasn’t strong enough and everything stayed at its place once the doctor slammed the door behind.

Many of the items in the six thickly supplied rows shook from the impact. The glass bottles and cans clinked against the hardwood. A few plastic toys even fell to the ground, though they didn’t break. 

The sound and the sudden chill made the tiny sleeping man with thick glasses jump in his high seat behind the counter. Soon, his eyes brightened up. “Doc! Thought you ain’t coming tonight. The usual stuff? Or you finally quit the cigs?“

“I wish you a good evening, as well, friend,“ the woman bowed her head while a faint hint of a smile crossed her face. “No, I still haven’t lost interest. Yet, tonight I’m going to need some dog treats. Preferably, something really tasty. Do you happen to have some, please?“

He laughed,“Don’t tell me you’re going to spoil your dog…“

“A wolf.“

“...a wolf sooner this month. Did she learn how to speak?“

“Not yet, Mr Moore. I need them for this little silly.“ She carefully showed the old man the found puppy in her arms. The cub was beginning to doze off, however, the lamp with its orange light woke up the little one.

“What an adorable find! Even cuter than our Jimmy! Too bad the scars are so deep. Whoever was the owner had to be one terrible son of a bitch, let me tell you that.“ The man’s round cheeks puffed like pillows while he admired the creature. His sausage-like fingers went to pet the little head but he quickly retracted as the dog barked. Of course, the tremble from cold, poor treatment as well as the young age didn’t make the puppy the most dangerous looking. Mr Moore, a simple man with hair as white as snow and a warm heart, encouraged the puppy’s confidence and played along. “What a fierce guy! Once he grows up, he’ll make a terrific companion!“

“Mr Moore, please, could you find those treats? Tiru and Krabat are waiting at home for me.“ Her deep voice bounced against the cracked walls. No harshness or impatience was there. Only concern and fatigue.

“Oh, sure thing, doc!“ His short legs began to move and within a few seconds he vanished behind a thick purple curtain in the back of the room. Unlike his physical presence, his chatty personality didn’t go away. “Tiru and Krabat… Doc, I always wanted to ask ya this. How in the hell did you name those pets?! The strangest names I’ve ever heard, ain’t gonna lie to you,“ he screamed.

“Old tradition, sir. Nothing more.“

“You sure? Just like keeping a wolf and a raven? I’d expect a hamster or a turtle. Though, these guys suit your style more, I guess.“

“Excuse me, Mr Moore?“

“Oh, don’t mind me!“ The old man heartily laughed. “So, are ya keeping the little guy?“

“I’m not so sure. Would you be interested in the adoption, sir? Jimmy could use some friend now.“ Ulfrika tapped her chin. Something was missing in that eerily quiet environment. Then,it hit her. “May I ask? Where’s Jimmy?“ She looked around in hopes to find a joyful drooling head of a bulldog.

“The poor bastard’s with my wife upstairs. She hasn’t been feeling well so he sticks around. What can I add? This bloody weather ain’t good for anyone.“

“Sure. As you say.“ Ulfrika once again politely bowed, the thin but numerous strands of hair slipped to her almost black eyes.

A box of dog treats landed on the green counter. “Here you go, youngster. It’ll be…“ Mr Moore widened his eyes when thirty dollars landed beside the box.

“Please, keep the change, Mr Moore. If I may ask, please, say hello to Mrs Moore and Jimmy. I wish you a nice evening.“

“Miss Výtaušeimová! This is too much! I can’t let you go off easily!“

The gaunt doctor stopped in front of the door - a puppy in one hand, a colourful box under the other armpit. “I said keep the change, sir.“

“I…thank you, doc.“

“No. I thank you, Mr Moore. Good night.“

Checking the late night hour at the old-fashioned wall clock, she was prepared to open the door with her elbow when the shop owner called behind her for the last time. “By the way, there was a strange guy today. He didn’t buy anything. Just went straight to me and asked about you.“

“Name?“

“Said no actual name. Just that he’s your neighbour and didn’t manage to catch up to you in the morning.“

“What did he look like?“

“Sorry, doc,“ Mr Moore shrugged and pouted,“he was wearing a hoodie and kept his face down. I couldn’t see an inch of his face. But he sounded young. The youngster could be no more than eighteen or twenty. But that’s just a guess.“

“Anything else?“

“Just that he’ll try to wait for you here tomorrow in case he misses you again.“

Ulfrika paused in thought. Soon, she bowed her head and a low grunt escaped from her throat once the rabid wind hit her face.

The puppy was whining the whole way and Ulfrika did her best to soothe him. It’s been a long while since she was taking care of someone.

As if it weren’t enough, a downpour visited the dirty city for the fourth time that week. Water from deep puddles splashed around whenever a car or a bike passed by. By the end of their common way, Ulfrika’s jeans were soaking wet. Strangely, she didn’t utter a word nor did she make a sound. The only time an eerie mix of hiss and growl spread around was when her keys stuck in the damaged door. Under her shallow breath, she spat curses on the caretaker.

When she finally barged in, she gave the miniature unkempt entrance room a meaningful look. There, in the dark corner, hiding by the large leaves of a dried palm, was a lanky man in his forties sleeping tightly on a chair. Another wooden chair was just by his right with an ashtray and a dying out cigarette stuck in one of its grooves. An empty bottle was rolling beneath it.

Upon such a disappointing view, Ulfrika puffed out her chest and ran her hand through the ruffled hair.

“I wish you a pleasant evening, sir,“ she uttered in a low voice as she made her way to the rusted lift cage of an elevator. Though she didn’t scream, it was still enough to yank the caretaker from his slumber.

“Miss Výtaušeimová, you didn’t pay your rent again.“

“Are you sure, sir?“ The only feature which changed on her poker face was a raised left eyebrow. Still, she didn’t offer him a single look and kept on waiting for the lift while showing the man her lean back.

“Yeah, I’m.“

“Then check your records because I paid in advance. Again.“ Only then she turned around in the rhythm of the thrumming machine. The slow motion of her body as well as her deep ice-cold voice made the man lose his frown and calmly walk to the nearby stall. He took out the book from the small safe and checked. After a small hesitation, he looked back with uncertainty painted in his suddenly pale face. “Sure, Miss. Everything’s alright. By the way, I wanted to tell you that a young boy-“ He furrowed his thin black eyebrows until deep cracks appeared on his wide forehead. “Is that a dog?“

Ulfrika answered only when she got into the lift and pushed the right button,“Yes.“

“I allowed you only those two dirty beasts.“

“So? You invite various other filthy man-eaters from the street nearly every night and nobody bats an eye. Is it a case of a social cohesion you feel towards your fellow specimen, perhaps?“

The door on the lift started to close. The sound of the tiny wheels moving in the rusty rails echoed throughout the dusty space. It was loud, yet the caretaker’s last words were more powerful. “Watch your mouth, doctor. There’s a lot of people in the streets who’d gladly take your spot here. Be careful what you say to me, you impudent bitch!“

“I’m not impudent. Only observing a certain natural behaviour of local species. Good night, sir. Hopefully the fleas won’t bite you so you can get some better sleep and stop being this rabid for no reason.“

As the rusty door closed and the lift started to move upwards, the reddened face of the man vanished among the quick images of changing levels.

A loud bang marked the endpoint of the long way to the highest level. The lightbulb inside the cabin as well as the one in the long corridor flickered once the doctor stepped out. Yet both decided to keep shining in the gloomy hallway. Although, the light from the street could be otherwise enough, thickly painted glass of a big window at the end of the corridor didn’t allow better lighting. The atmosphere mirrored on the dried palm which now more resembled a scarecrow than a healthy plant. The three doors were no different. Their peeled brown colour and varnish exposed the naked wood and the cracks in the form of a web in it.

Ulfrika nonchalantly walked by the first door with a mop leaned against it. The item gave away to her that the caretaker still didn’t change the location of the second storeroom in the building and that the reeking smell was still residing in the locked room.

The second door, an abandoned flat, was directly facing hers. She was prepared to prop against the entrance when a sudden noise made her look behind and pause in thought while the poor puppy woke up from its light slumber and whimpered.

The noise of something falling was coming from inside the abandoned apartment.

“Come on!“ Ulfrika grunted and quickly turned on her heel. She pushed the entrance door and as fast as she could she jumped into the safety of her flat. The dust whirled behind her but she no longer cared.

Behind the locked door and in a joyful howling of a large wolf with thick grey fur and yellow blazing eyes she let out a relieved sigh.

Her eyes suddenly brightened up, a perfect contrast to the dark abyss which she showed to the outer world.

“Tiru! Hello, my dearest friend! How was your day?“

A loud howl and a waggling tail provided an answer.

“Yes, I understand. Don’t worry. The dinner will be soon. Where’s Krabat, though?“

Another bark.

“Oh, I see. I shouldn’t worry you that much next time. Hopefully, he’s going to return soon. By the way, here’s our new little friend, Tiru. Please, take care of…“ She wanted to say the name of the puppy when a realisation struck her once again.

She carefully raised the trembling puppy over her head and checked the crotch.

“Little one, you came here by a river, nearly drowning in it. I’m sure you have fleas. But I also bet you might be an excellent hunter. You seem to display a great will and maybe…“

As she let the puppy down and saw how quickly he turned back to lick her foot, Ulfrika finished her sentence,“...loyalty.“ The doctor lightly tapped on her chin. Soon, the hybrid widely smiled as she proudly announced,“Argos. That has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?“

The harehound happily barked and let himself be licked by gentle gentle Tiru. Ulfrika used this sudden distraction. Neatly putting her clothes in its place in a simple wardrobe, she ventured into a tiny kitchen where the before-hand prepared dough was awaiting her.

While she was preparing the pork stuffing, a sharp pale beak knocked on the kitchen window. The doctor didn’t need to turn around to know who was waiting behind. Stretching out her long arm she let the raven inside. The black feathers whizzed and the bird obediently landed on the hybrid’s shoulder.

A little peck here and there caused Ulfrika to look at him. She was ready to scold him for coming home so late but once she saw a banknote in Krabat’s beak, she let out a bark. Her laughter startled out only the small puppy who in the meanwhile made himself most comfortable under the wolf’s chin.

“Who did you steal from this time?“

No matter how much she asked him, the raven refused to let out any sign. He let go of the piece of paper and let himself be petted.

The dish was finally in the oven, roasting until it was deliciously crunchy. The smell of dough and spiced meat with onion filled the whole apartment. To use the free time, Ulfrika with a curious Krabat went over to Argos. Before taking the final step, the eager and overly curious raven flew down from her shoulder and started observing every detail of the puppy. Every scar, every bald spot in his dark caramel fur, his cropped ear. The view made Krabat let out a loud caw. Argos drew himself nearer to Tiru and whimpered.

“Krabat, be careful around our little boy. I doubt he’s seen much of the outside world. Is that right, little pup?“ She gently smiled and petted the puppy. “Tiru, please, watch over him for a while. Krabat, you take care of the oven. I’ll go and prepare the sink. Little Argos needs a bath.“

Once she said the last word, the puppy squeaked and desperately barked. Though, after the reassuring nudge of the she-wolf and a tender look from his new, much caring owner, he stopped. “Don’t worry, sweetie. This time, there won’t be any freezing water or anything else that would hurt you. Ever. I promise, alright?“

Ulfrika quickly made her way to the light bathroom and began preparing all the things she needed. A shampoo, a wide sink full of warm water, an old brush she no longer used. Everything was prepared and laying still under the gaze of two lightbulbs installed in the corners of the bathroom. Only a towel was missing. Ulfrika sighed when she realised it. Another walk through her flat was the last thing on her mind. The strength was slowly leaving her and the tiredness was taking over the lanky body. But remembering the innocent creature, she sighed and walked over to an antique looking wardrobe in the entrance room. Despite her light body weight, the wooden floor squeaked.

Her eye ominously looked up from under silky hair. The single light bulb which was there. The flashing immediately stopped. The space was once again flooded by a white light.

Ulfrika carefully slid out a yellow towel from a neatly stored pile. She turned around on her heel and wanted to venture to the kitchen where Argos finally began to happily bark and play with his new friends.

But she didn’t go there.

The bell on the front door rang.

Before she walked over and gazed through the peephole, she puffed, completely annoyed. Yet, she didn’t have any choice. The sounds from inside as well as the light sneaking under the door gave away instantly that somebody was at last home.

It wouldn’t be Ulfrika, however, if she didn’t rush her companions into the closet in her bedroom and told them to be as quiet as possible. Only then she sneaked back to the front door and looked through the old peephole.

A person with a dark green hood over their head was waiting there and impatiently pressing the bell. Their face could be barely recognisable under the layer of clothing. Not to mention they were arching over.

Warily placing her hand on the cold handle and preparing her sharp claws and fangs as sharp as a needle, she finally answered the constant ringing.

The person jumped up in surprise when a gust rose and a blunt force threw them against the wall behind. They didn’t even manage to let out a scream. Ulfrika’s cold and unnervingly calm eyes shut them up for good.

She placed her nails close to the person’s hairy neck and whispered, never letting her eyes off of them. “Who are you? Why do you keep asking for me? What do you-?“

Her grip on the hoodie’s collar loosened and she let out the boy’s feet fully touch the floor. “You?!“

A pair of daring brown eyes, lighter than her own and of a strange shape, looked back from under the hood. The boy of no more than eighteen with a freckled face and fangs smiled back. “Sup, auntie!“

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Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added): @vanessaroades-author @rubywrite @aohendo @rbbess110 @jgmartin @outpost51 @athenswrites

[tsuki-chibi]

Ladynoir July 2023 Day 27: Names

Read all the entries on AO3

--

Chat Noir was so deep in thought that he didn’t even seem to notice when Ladybug landed on the rooftop and walked over to him. He was curled in on himself, his legs pulled up against his chest, staring out at the city. But she could tell from the far away look in his eyes that he wasn’t actually seeing the city.

“What’s up, Chaton?” Ladybug asked, taking a seat beside him. Chat startled a little, blinking at her in surprise even as he smiled in welcome.

“I was just thinking. My class recently started a project where we have to think about our future,” he said. “Apparently most kids our age have to do it, because I talked to a friend who doesn’t even go to my school, and her school is doing it too.”

“Yeah, my class is doing it too,” Ladybug said with a nod. Madame Bustier had introduced the project to them three days ago. It had seemed interesting and fun at first, but then Marinette had realized the full scope of what was going into it. Every little thing they wrote down about their future needed to be backed by research.

“I figured,” Chat said. “How are you making out?”

“Well…” Ladybug let out a sigh. “Okay, I guess. It’s a lot. Like I know what I want to do for a job. But now I’m having to do a whole bunch of research into it. Like what kind of education I’ll need, and what my chances really are, and how much it’ll cost, and how much it’ll pay, and how long it’ll take to be successful… It’s really kind of stressful, actually.”

“Right?” Chat exclaimed. “How am I supposed to know what I want to do for a living? The only thing I’ve ever done is work for my dad. I’ve never had the time to think of what I might want to do.” He sounded legitimately stressed out about it, and Ladybug felt bad for him. She scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, I think this is project is meant to be informative and fun,” she said gently. “You don’t have to know for sure what you want to do, Chat. Not everybody does. A lot of my friends don’t.”

“That’s true. Some of my friends don’t either. But some do, and I envy them.” Chat’s shoulders slumped and he leaned into her, seeking comfort. Ladybug lightly stroked his hair.

“Maybe you could write about jobs you think you’d like to have. Like you know, don’t limit yourself to just one or two. Pick four or five and go into detail about all of them to show you’ve done your research and really considered everything,” Ladybug suggested.

Chat contemplated that for a moment. “I guess that could work. But I still wish I knew for sure what I wanted to do. Sometimes I think I’ll be stuck working for my dad forever.”

Ladybug’s heart went out to him. Chat sounded like he was in the same boat as Adrien. She wondered if Adrien was having a similar struggle with the project. He sure hadn’t said much when he, Marinette, Alya, and Nino had been talking about it in class earlier.

“Well, what about the other parts of it? Like kids and getting married. Do you know if you want either of those things?” Ladybug asked.

“Yeah, I do,” Chat said immediately.

“Then that’s something your dad can’t control right there,” Ladybug said brightly. “You could maybe put in details about your wedding if you’ve thought about it, or… I don’t know. Oh, you could put in the names of your kids!” She giggled. “My friend was teasing me earlier about putting in my future kid’s names. Hugo, Louis, and Emma.”

It was funny now, but in the moment it had been mortifying to hear Alya say those names out loud where Nino and Adrien could hear. Thankfully Adrien hadn’t known that Marinette planned to have those kids with him. He and Nino just thought that Marinette was keeping those as names in general. Still, Marinette had given Alya a kick under the desk for that one.

Chat stiffened against her, but Ladybug didn’t notice. She kept talking, saying, “Or if you had an idea about where you wanted to live, you could research house prices and stuff like that. Or vacations! I’ve always wanted to go to –”

“Wait. Did you say Hugo, Louis, and Emma?” Chat said, interrupting Ladybug.

She paused, frowning. “Yeah? I like those names.”

Chat turned to her. His eyes were very, very wide as he said breathlessly, “Marinette?!”

[3ofpents]

100 Palette Challenge // Palette #23 // Picturesque Point Pleasant

Today's color palette comes from a "Picture-Play Magazine" cover from April 1922.

This poster actually came together pretty quickly! Or at least it felt quick. Honestly it felt like the longest part was looking up photos of Point Pleasant to reference (mostly because I was originally trying to not use the bridge, but you know, the palette limits me on options).

Oh but it came together even more quickly the SECOND time. Because I had to DRAW IT TWICE. Because normally when I create a new file for these posters, I set the unit of measurement to inches because it's easier to remember 11 x 17 inches than 585884239 pixels or whatever. But THIS time, I apparently accidentally set the unit to CENTIMETERS and I didn't notice until I went to resize it to post here! ┻━┻ ︵ ＼( °□° )／ ︵ ┻━┻

So anyway this is the SECOND poster. But that's okay, I was able to fix some of the things I didn't like about the original version and some of the tiny mistakes.

BUT YEAH, Point Pleasant, WV is the home of Mothman, probably the most popular cryptid in Cryptid Fandom. Nevertheless, I'm sure there's plenty of folks who aren't familiar, so here's a quick overview.

The first published Mothman sighting was in November of 1966 when two young married couples were chased around the backroads of Point Pleasant by what they described as a large winged man with muscular legs, no arms or head, and glowing red eyes. You can read more about that in my post about Mothman on the Shapeshifters tumblr, Like most cryptids, no one can quite agree on what Mothman is, even among the believers. There's speculation about it being a demon, due to its connection to the Silver Bridge collapse exactly 13 months to the day after the November '66 sighting. Others think it was trying to warn people about it, like John Keel who wrote the book The Mothman Prophesies that the later Richard Gere movie was based on. Though Keel also theorizes that Mothman is an alien, but also that aliens aren't from space, but from Earth and, at least when he originally wrote the book in 1975, spoke in a very condescending tone of anyone who still thought aliens were from space.

Personally, I'd never heard of Mothman until the Gere movie, which I went to see with my mom. She wasn't super interested in cryptids, but she has always been a fan of Richard Gere and absolutely loved those paranormal thrillers filmed like psychological thrillers that were so popular in the early 2000's. I've loved Mothman ever since and, I suppose since that was my introduction to him, I definitely fall on the side of him trying to warn people about the bridge collapse. And because of that he shares a place in my heart with Giles Corey, the only man tried and executed for witchcraft during the Salem with trials, whose ghost is also said to appear before great disasters in the graveyard where he was pressed to death .

I think I've come a long way from my very first cryptid poster. I don't know if this one is necessarily any better, per se, than the Jersey Devil poster, but the techniques are settling into my brain and muscle memory.

This poster is part of @shapeshiftersvt's Cryptid Collection. If you like it, prints will be up on the Shapeshifters website sometime this week (probably tomorrow). I'll reblog this post when they are.