#I feel terrible for my sister cause she’s just raw dogging it.

[pussypopstiel]

Sometimes I remember I was in pretty frequent and involved therapy from the ages of like 12-18 and I get slightly horrified cause that means I could’ve somehow ended up worse

[husbandohunter]

You want Vitamin F, then let me supply you one;

Genshin boys transform into cats.

A Furry Predicatment [Cat Genshin Impact x Gn!Reader]

♤♡◇♧☆

Synopsis: Venturing to Springvale the boys inhale the fairy dust that turns people into cats, now they must endure the consequences.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Albedo, Zhongli, Childe, Venti

(A/n): My student just sent me a video of her cat. I think thats a sign anon. This was meant to be written. part 2 here :P

=======================

[Diluc]

The grumpy cat (to no one's surprise) who wears the same iconic frown with the same matching gloomy eyes. He's grumpy about this outcome in particular, plus the fact he can't even voice his frustrations except for meowing noises and the endless craving for raw fish. RAW, how despicable.

The maids were looking for Master Diluc except that he was already there...in your arms. Just like his hair, his fur is the fluffiest as if he were a gigantic ball of hilichurl hair. You would nuzzle your face into it because he just feels so warm!

Absolutely will NOT live like a cat. The uncrowned king of Mondstadt refuses to drink water from a bowl. He cannot eat anything unless you feed him with utensils. NO, no he will not shove his mouth into the plate, its uncultured and unsanitary.

He never though taking baths would be so nerve-wracking (cat instincts). It was terrible, choosing between the feeling of water against his body or licking his paws to clean himself (a much more comfortable choice). This kind of lifestyle was miserable.

~xx~

[Kaeya]

The mischievious cat (oh no) cue pink panther music, he's the Tom with Jerry's brains. Unlike Diluc, Kaeya will ultimately fall into his cat instincts and somehow uses it to his advantage.

You bet he's gonna spy on people. At night he would jump upon the rooftops to peek through Goth Grand Hotel's windows (watching closely at the Fatui), until the Darknight Hero comes in. Diluc knows it's Kaeya, it's rather uncanny how he does it, hence the cat runs away immediately.

The type to lick you upon contact. You think this was a quirk that came with the spell but he was actually doing it on purpose. Usually targets the neck because he could get a reaction out of you (ohoho you're tickilish there eh?)

As he is roaming out on the streets, always manages to escape the dogs. Kaeya knows his way around the city like the back of his hand, he enjoys watching them bark endlessly while he licks his paws in a mocking manner. Until one of them hopped up, now things got tricky. Basically Kaeya gets himself to alot of trouble as a cat, the worst part was when a bunch of kids started to join in too.

~xx~

[Xiao]

The fiesty cat (he was always a fiesty cat) who hisses alot. Even his fur stands up like a porcupine when expressing his distastefulness. The way he meows almost sounds like a low growl, bares his fangs as if he were a thirsty vampire. Will scare alot of people away with his behaviour, even dogs.

But damn he would make a pretty cat. Golden eyes, dark green stripes and teal fur, the purple diamond still tattooed between where his eyebrows once were, it didn't take long for Verr Goldet to realize that was Xiao.

And the worst nightmare of all, while Cat Xiao roams around the city at night he happened to attract alot of other stray cats who lived in the streets. They were very attracted to his beauty, cornering him until there was no where to run, that was the only situation where Xiao was scared enough to run away.

His ears are the most sensitive. He can't help but purr whenever you pet between them. Though if anyone were to grab his tail, the outcome would not be very pleasant...

~xx~

[Albedo]

The curious cat (who does not die) that will appear from every corner, silently, mysteriously as if he teleported. Once Lisa found him between the bookshelves of her Library while seeing a pile of books stacked upon the floor. Before she could shoo him out, she realized that the cat was way too smart to be a mere cat and quickly deciphered that it was the Chief Alchemist.

Of course no one else in Mondstadt knew it was Albedo, they thought you just had a very talented pet. Margaret even decided to put him against Prince to see who's cat was the best. It wasn't even a competition. Catbedo could paint a picture just by using his paws.

But Klee found out eventually (she deserved to know). She would open her drawer, take out her bow and stick them upon his fur. It seems that Albedo can never get a break when it was against his little sister, she will find indulging activities to do without consent.

Astounded by the sheer talent your cat possessed, the Knights of Favonius offered to hire your cat to be trained as a Knight Cat because animals are very good at deciphering clues for investigation. Oh how unaware they were.

[Zhongli]

The type of cat for crazy cat ladies. It's the vibe he gives being an old man ranging to a thousand years. Zhongli is very behaving, very considerate and very calm in his cat form. His favourite activity is to snuggle upon your lap while you quietly read a book.

He is indeed a tall black cat. Has incredible and refined posture and if he were to stand up on his hind legs, he can even reach as far as the kitchen counter! Though he does not like the fact that he sheds so much fur, it leaves a huge mess behind him (in which you had to clean up)

Zhongli decided to venture into Liyue's streets and see what it's like to be a cat. He starts communicating with some of them, speaking his cat language (meow meowmewomewo? meeoooow). Needless to say, the cats had no idea what he was saying.

If there were any cat-related dish he eats, it has to be sushi. Raw sashimis if possible. You worry if the choice was even healthy for a cat but you remembered that he was still a god. He'll be fine, right?

[Childe]

The annoying cat (that you must take care of, remember) whos a little too impulsive for his own good. Childe finds the excitement running through him whenever he spots a mouse, a squirrel or even a bird. One moment he's in your arms, the next he just leapt high into the air and running into the streets.

Adventurous as always. You take him to the pond to get some fresh air. Childe is not afraid of water, at all. He plays a game with the fishes, trying to see how much he can catch in one swipe. You had to keep a close eye on him otherwise he'd fall in and drown.

Loves climbing trees but shortly realizes that he can't get down. You tell him to jump but he feels hesitant so you had to climb up and get him. However, now the two of you were stuck and Zhongli had to get you both down one at a time.

Childe has the prettiest blue eyes as a cat. They were big and bright, almost feminine. But you knew that look was the look of upcoming trouble.

[Venti]

Oh God Barbatos.

Venti can't stop sneezing. His own fur is all over the place and he just couldn't catch a break (or a breath). Every second he will hiss-sneeze, they sounded like dying noises.

You had to get him to Lisa as fast as possible otherwise the death of Barbatos would have been caused by his own self.

[bonecorn]

I love your anatomy/references posts & I love skulls and skeletons & I would love to know how you convince people to give you their animal heads to clean. Also any bone cleaning tips for suburban areas?? When I was living on a farm it was easy to leave stuff out and let the bugs take care of it but my parents said hard no to dead things bleaching on the porch

Oh this is very easy!

Find a friend or acquaintance with land and leave your stuff there. Bug cleaning and tub maceration don't need a lot of hands-on attendance so you can check in however often you like.

There's also "hot water maceration" where you simmer (dont boil!) fresh heads in hot water and remove the cooked meat by hand. Make sure you scramble the brains first and then cook away inside or with a camping stove on the porch. And "bleaching" which is done with hydrogen peroxide can be done inside since the skulls are already clean by then anyway.

I don't actually convince people to give me their pets. For livestock, I ask because most people aren't emotionally attached to their livestock.

For pets, I wait to be offered the remains. More on that under the cut.

TLDR: Know the pet owner, wait to be offered bodies rather than asking. Make sure they are always in control. Ask for livestock no problem. Don't let scavengers eat euthanized meat.

holy crap lol

I don't ask for pet bodies. The trick is to be very open and excited about what you do so that people who know you know about bones and know that you are respectful of animal remains. Then, when a beloved pet dies, they might think about you.

Open up the conversation on death before it's relevant

You can also plant the seed ahead of time during a conversation about bones while the pet in question is alive and healthy. "Sometimes I do pets if their owner is ok with it, though most want to bury. Have you ever thought about that for Baxter?" It's in SUPER poor taste to do this while an animal is dying, when you'll need to be way more tactful.

Know your friend well enough to guess their feelings on it

It SUPER depends on the person and how they view bodies and death. My ex's dog passed away and he was always queasy about corpses. I comforted him and cried with him while his beloved 15 year old dog declined and passed. I didn't ask or even mention it because I knew him enough to know that he would say no, and that asking would be painful and upsetting for him to think about. Same with my dear friend and her 20 year old cat. She had a beautiful pet graveyard with headstones and everything. You just know not to ask some people because traditionally laying bodies to rest is important to them.

Other pet owners are chill about it, ESPECIALLY if they come from a livestock background. Livestock people are used to sending their animals to be recycled into glue and wax when they die, because it's generally not feasible to bury or cremate a horse. If someone does plan to take that on, you know they are absolutely dedicated to traditional burial and won't give you anything.

Make it their choice to offer, rather than it being your request

Anyway. If you know the person, and you know they might be ok with giving up their pet's body due to how they view bodies and death, then you work on making them think about you. First, you comfort and do everything you can to help the person through their grief. If you weren't already planning on doing that, then you have no business asking for their pet. Do not comfort someone in order to get something out of them. That's disgusting. Just straight up ask them for their pet and know that they will view you as tactless and rude, but its better than manipulating them.

What I do is not manipulation, it's reminding people what you do and then letting them make their own decisions. When your friend is feeling a little better and is not crying, you can ask about logistics. I ask "What do you plan to do for burial/with the body?" and that usually makes them think about me and what I do with bodies. If they already have a meaningful spot picked out to bury or scatter/keep ashes, then that means the body is important to them and I shouldn't ask further.

At this point, they should realize what you could use the body for and think about how they feel about that. This is when my sister (who has a livestock background) offered her dog to me. We talked about how she thought of bodies, and she thought that the soul is the only thing that matters and once her dog passes there's nothing important left. I did not say anything to convince her, these were all her own thoughts.

It's very VERY important to respect and love the pet owner because they're extremely vulnerable and emotionally raw. That's why I don't straight up ask, because when you're losing a pet, you don't want to feel like someone is trying to gain something from you.

If your friend says they don't know or haven't decided what to do for the body, you can gently say "Let me know if you want me to help bury it, to take it with me, or to just be there for you." This is a close-ended statement and not a question. A question means that your friend has to come up with an answer right there and then, while an offer is actionable. This puts the power and autonomy in your friend's hands, so that when they make a decision it comes fully from their wants and needs and is not about you and what you want.

Be there for them even if you get nothing out of it

If they don't offer at this point, they're not going to. Now hold up your end of the bargain and continue to comfort and help through the grieving process. Again, if you aren't already invested in this person enough to want to soothe and comfort and be there for the human person in the equation, then you have no business asking for their pet. When a pet dies, your first concern should be to the person. If it's not, then you aren't close enough to ask for goodies.

Helping someone grieve is not payment for their pet's body. If you realize they aren't going to give you something in return for your comfort and so you abandon them, you're a terrible person using their grief to manipulate them for your own gain. Comfort is not payment. Closeness in grief is a metric by which you measure "Do I have any business to ask?"

The pet owner runs the show, not you

Throughout this process, stress that the owner can change their mind at any time. You don't want the owner to think "I hate this but I can't back out now because I promised..." Even when they animal is all wrapped up an in your vehicle and ready to go, quietly tell the owner that they can still choose what happens and if they have second thoughts, that's ok and you won't be mad.

My sister let me be there for putting her dog down and it was all about her and her love for her dog. She carried him out and laid him in my trunk and we stood in the rain and talked and hugged. She then told me she was happy that he could bring happiness to someone in life and now still in death, but that she didn't want to know anything. I agreed not to tell her or post anything about processing her dog, so for her it would be like burial. The same thing happened with my other friend's horse. She spent some time with him and then as soon as he passed she drove away and let me do what I wanted. She didn't want to hear Any of it. Again, I didn't ask or even offer, she came up with the idea of giving me the body all on her own even before I knew he was dying.

Horse people are much closer to pet owners than livestock owners, but they are used to sending their friend's bodies off to a different kind of processing (at Tallow factories, livestock remains are ground up, cut apart, cooked, and spun around to extract various substances that become soap, glue, candles, etc) so they know not to think about what happens after death. It still depends on how well you know the owner and know how they think about death, but if you offer to handle logistics like dealing with the tallow guy, they can actually save money by letting you have it.

You're actually doing livestock a favor

Livestock people are generally chill and have a much more utility/asset view of their animals. If the animal doesn't even have a name they probably don't care what happens when it's dead. In fact, most farmers will jump at the chance to give you their animal for free because calling the tallow company to haul it away costs them money. This is also why in areas with lots of livestock, you sometimes find bodies dumped in ditches or left on the side of the road, because the farmer didn't want to pay to get rid of it so they made it everyone else's problem. Even pet animals like dogs and cats are more Utility than pure companions on a farm, so you might have a better chance of getting remains from a farmer than a neighbor.

One more thing about pets and livestock.

When I find a dead deer, I flay it open and let the vultures eat it. For domestic animals, they are often put to sleep via chemical/drug.

THIS IS POISONOUS TO SCAVENGERS.

DO NOT LET SCAVENGERS EAT EUTHANIZED ANIMALS

Seriously. If you like nature, you need to protect it. Deflesh it yourself, throw all the meat/blood/offal away or bury it 6 feet down. Idk what it does to the environment so I always freeze it and then throw it away on garbage day.

Rot bacteria and beetle larvae dermestids don't mind. In fact, dermestid droppings and pupa shells can be analyzed for toxins by forensic scientists to determine cause of death. Neat! Just make sure that if you process outdoors, the remains are EXTREMELY SECURE and cannot be opened by vultures, coyotes, or wild pigs.

Remember the living, human person

I know I look very clinical by picking apart human emotions, but I respond, feel, love, and grieve just like everyone else. I didn't plan how to get any of the animals in the above stories, I just acted on instinct and these are the ones where that paid off well.

Most of the time if I go "huh. I feel that may not go over well" I can then take that feeling apart and figure out why. So hopefully explaining how my feelings work it can help you listen to your most useful and most compassionate ones.

The living person is always more important than a dead pet. Sometimes you can get the dead pet without distressing your friend, sometimes you shouldn't even try.

Respecting the dead

A final note on working with pets vs wild animals. This is someone's family member, so don't play puppet with it like you might with a skunk skin. Don't take pictures of any part of the process until they are rendered to bones. Pictures of dead pet species are even more distressing to the general public than wild animals, and sick freaks might take your photos and send them to people for kicks or attention. Better to just not have photos than for that to happen.

What processing a pet feels like

Working on a pet is always going to be different for you, the vulture, than a wild animal. Everything you see is touched by human hands. My sister's dog was... beautiful. You don't really realize how moved you're going to be by seeing the perfect amount of healthy fat covering, or beautiful muscles that speak of exercise and attention. She rescued this starving pup and turned him into the healthiest animal I have ever seen. She's a vet assistant and the care and love she put into this dog had me sitting there crying while I held his paws; with their perfectly maintained clipped and sanded nails. I'd only met the dog once for a few minutes when he was alive, but his body was a canvas and every inch was painted with layers and layers of love. It made me so, so sad that his neurological issues couldn't be helped because his body was proof of someone who would stop at nothing to cure what could be cured, and that the last months of his life were happier than he ever imagined.

On the flip side, pets whose bodies show signs of neglect and abuse are going to hit you harder than any deer could. The dog I found discarded in a garbage bag on the side of the road had rotten teeth and nails so long they curled over themselves into hoops. An overgrown and suffering deer is just the sign of nature taking its course. An overgrown and suffering dog is the sign of human cruelty, of shirked responsibility.

Most pets you get will between these two dogs. No owner is perfect. Most old dogs have lost teeth to rot, sick cats too weak to scratch properly may have overgrown nails.

Death as beauty

A pet's body usually a beautiful story full of ups and downs; of owners doing things wrong and then doing things right. A vulture or an artist can read a body like rings on a tree and feel the heart beat in their chest that tells them how strong and full of love this life had been. You need to be ready for this part. Every detail is a message from your fellow human and even though we are all animals and we decompose into the same dirt, we're meant to connect to each other here and now.

Keep your emotions open when working with remains.

Listen to what they have to teach you.

[lovingthereign25]

The Chase.

Part 8.

Today was Aaliyah's sixth birthday, how she was already six you didn't know. But here you were celebrating your amazing little girl. Roman was finishing hanging the higher decorations that you couldn't reach.

You and Roman both have a big family so you loved having parties,cookouts or just everyone over as much as possible. You were standing in the kitchen watching both Aaliyah's grandpas playing with her in the yard. She called your father "Poppy"  and called Roman's father Sika "Papa" as did Briana.

"Can you believe she is six already?" Roman asked, kissing your cheek.

"Absolutely not, feels like we just brought her into this world yesterday" you smile wiping a tear before facing your husband.

"Baby, don't cry. It's a happy day, a day to celebrate the little life we created" he smiles pulling you into his chest.

"I know, they're just getting so big and they don't need me anymore" you sob

"Hey, Look at me." He says lifting your chin." I need you. I always will." 

*November 2016*

Roman was away in Europe Even though you were back wrestling you couldn't dare stand to be away from your daughters for three whole weeks.So you stayed behind. You missed him terribly. Of course you both called each other and video chatted but you just wanted to be with your husband. Your sister had agreed to babysit the girls so you could fly out and surprise Roman. You arrive at the hotel using a fake name. As you approach your room You see Nikki running towards you.

"Y/n?, Are you okay? What's going on?" She asks hugging you

"I'm fine, nothing much just came to surprise the hubby" you smile

"What? Roman left. Something about a family emergency. He left first thing this morning" she says.

"What?, No that can't be, he never even called me" you say. 

You take out your phone calling Roman immediately.

"Hey, Beautiful what's up? How's my babies?" He asks he voice rather low

"Good. We're all good. Where are you?"  You ask

"Umm...me I'm in London tonight. About to do Raw..got a match against Kevin tonight" he says 

"Really?How's London?" You ask

"Great, fans here really seem to be behind me, last night we even had a little "y/n" chant going on" he laughs

"Really?, So crazy cause I'm here in London and my husband is nowhere to be found!, Roman what the hell is going on" you say fed up with his lies

"Y/n, baby why are you in London?" He asks

"I came to visit my husband, I have been missing but to my surprise he isn't here" you snap " where the hell are you?"

"Okay baby, please listen to me and don't freak out and remember I love you"he said "Ro, you're scaring me. What's going on?" You ask nervously

"I left because Galina is having the babies" he says

"You left because your ex wife is having her twins? Are you fucking joking?" You yell

"They're mine," he whispered.

*April 2017*

 It had been one hell of a year for you emotionally and mentally but you managed to make it through. You had just thrown Briana the best first birthday last week. You decided it was best for Briana and also Aaliyah if you invited Roman. You both tried to stay civil during the separation you shared Christmas with them. Both of you going to his mother's for gifts and dinner.  You both had received the divorce papers but neither of you had signed them yet... honestly you didn't even open yours yet. Being separated was harder this time around then the last with you and Roman for one you worked together again and not wanting anyone knowing your personal business you still played a happy couple on script and two still loved him despite everything. Roman was in a feud with the Undertaker and was going to fight him at Wrestlemania. At first Roman was supposed to lose to the Undertaker but after saying he wanted to pass the yard down to Roman, Wwe and Marc decided it was best to have Roman win. Roman had mixed feelings about it as much as he was honored to be able to beat the Undertaker at Wrestlemania he was also upset to beat one of his all time favorites. The match was incredible very back and forth, and when it was finally over Roman was on an emotional rollercoaster.

"Congratulations" you say when he arrives backstage.

"Thank you..I don't even know how to feel right now" he says

"Ro he chose you, he wanted you to own the yard. He respects you enough to hand it over to you, you deserve this" you smile

"Y/n? You ready to go?'' Renee asks.

"Yeah..I'll be right there" you smile

So..I'll see you when I pick up the girls Tuesday then" he says

"Umm.. actually no my mom will have them I'm gonna go on a little girls trip with Lana and the girls" you say grabbing byou bags

"Oh I was hoping we could maybe talk.. but have a good time.. you definitely deserve a break" he smiles

"Thank you….we could talk once I get back if you want, but again congratulations" you wave.

 *September 2017*

Roman Reigns vs. John Cena.

A dream match some would say. The promos leading up to the match at No mercy were getting more personal by the week. Everyone in the back knew you had a little fling with John back when you first came to Wwe it wasn't a secret. But when John used it in a promo against Roman that's when the feud became way too personal. 

"You're nothing but a cheap imitation of me Roman,I mean you even married my old booty call" he says getting ready to exit the ring

"Nah, bring your bitch ass back here, I'm gonna say this one time John so listen closely, say what you want about me but the next time you disrespect my wife I'm gonna kick your teeth down your throat" Roman says pushing past John. The next week on Raw was the lineup Roman and John were to cut another promo leading up to the match. But seeing how serious and defensive Roman got over John making comments about you kinda got you hot. And the fact that he was still mad about a week later telling Triple H in the back that next John mentioned you he was gonna go off script and fuck him up turned you on even more. It was 5 mins before Roman was due in the ring he was wearing a new shirt he had put out and it was hugging him tight..he had a slight belly and fuck was it sexy seeing him getting thick. You watched him biting your lip, you wanted him right this second 10 months without sex was driving you mad. 

"Shirts getting a little snug there huh?" You ask 

" Yeah, got a little gut coming on, thanks for pointing it out" he laughs

" Doesn't look bad, thickness is hot" you shrug

A knock let's you know it's time to go to the ring. The promo is good. John tried to one up Roman but Roman's comebacks were getting better by the week.

" For god sake Roman you come down here with your zipper down" John says 

"I busted it actually...Big Dog."  Roman laughs looking towards you winking

That was all it took, as soon you both entered his locker room,you were jumping his bones 

" Roman" you say as he shuts the door

"Yeah?" He looks back

"Do me a favor?" You ask locking the door walking towards him

"Name it" he says 

"Fuck me" you say attaching your lips to his

His lips felt amazing on yours, one thing about you and Roman it never mattered how long you've been apart. The spark between the two of you was always there and would always be there.  One thing you knew for sure he was the love of your life,you just had to figure out the rest.

[geekgemsspooksandtoons]

Bioshock Rebirth Part 1 told in a humorous way

Showed this to @feckinatlas like some of the others. I had this in my draft oh wait. Yeah this is part of my Bioshock Rebirth AU, my reimagining/reboot of the Bioshock franchise. While I don’t wanna write a full on novel because I’m lazy like that. Yet I wanted to make a funny recap. Originally this would of been part 1 and 2. But I decided to keep as 1 right now.

Basically was inspired by stuff like the ByteSize recaps of The Last Of Us. So if you want to know the full story but keep it short. Despite some parts seem long and deep. Yet this is told in a humorous way. Hopefully you enjoy it. Including the night before I am uploading this. I decided to add Booker’s parts because I imagine him as a boss.

Part 1.

Archie: My aircraft was shot down and now it crashed into the ocean near this lighthouse! What the Hell is all this!? Andrew Ryan? An underwater city called Rapture? Weird looking people trying to kill me? Weird diving suit monsters with drills? Little girls holding giant needles? What the Hell is going on down here?

Atlas: Oy lad! My name is Atlas. I’m the leader of the rebellion going against Ryan. He’s an asshole and I made the distress call. We need to take Ryan down and we need your help.

Archie: Okay man who I trust and grow to admire as a father figure who reminds me of myself. Hi two ladies.

Daisy: Hey there I’m Daisy. I’m Atlas’s 2nd in command and....I guess I’m gay with Diane.

Diane: We had a weird history.

Archie: Ah no judgement there. :)

Atlas: Now we need your help rescuing this young girl Ryan has imprisoned. We don’t know why she’s imprisoned but we need to save her.

Later.

Elizabeth: I’m Elizabeth and I want to go Paris! But I’m stuck in this tower. :( But you’re real and that’s so awesome! :D

Archie: Hi Elizabeth! I’m here to rescue you! 

Bluto: Who in the fuck wants her out!?

Archie: AH SHIT HE’S A BIG DIVING SUIT MONSTER! 

*When they get out.*

Elizabeth: Oh my God it’s so great out here!

Archie: Oh crap I’m starting to like her.

*As they explore Rapture more.*

Atlas: Ah crap they’re working like a team! She’s using these small tears to help him out while he shoots stuff!

Elizabeth: I feel like I’m gonna lose my mind and go crazy seeing all this death and unpleasant stuff. :( Especially after meeting that Steinman guy.

Archie: You’re going to be alright. Nothing is gonna hurt you. Don’t become apathetic. We’ll get through this together. :)

Elizabeth: I feel comfortable with you. :)

Atlas: Now since that Big Daddy is dead. Put that Little Sister out of her misery!

Archie: Oh Hell no man! There has to be another way!

Brigid: Do not hurt my little ones. Hello young man and young girl. Use this thing to free them from their torment.

Archie: Ah thanks lady. :)

Atlas: Don’t trust her Arch! She’s responsible for them!

Archie: But she’s trying to help them! :(

Booker: Argh! I work for Ryan’s personal guard! You’re Atlas’s Dog. I’ll send my troopers to get that girl back. Including I’ll wonder if I should capture or kill you!

*After going around unpopulated and some populated parts in Rapture for nearly a week.*

Archie: Ah man Tenenbaum’s safehouse is pretty nice. And these Little Sisters are kids and are great. :) Yet Brigid seems weird around. Especially she looked like I looked familiar. Even Atlas did so too. And sometimes he says these three words sometimes and my head hurts.

Later.

Julie: These are my franken trees.

Archie and Elizabeth: Woah!

Later.

Cohen: I’m Sander Cohen and I’m a weird and disgusting artist guy! 

Archie: Ugh I don’t like him.

Elizabeth: Me neither.

Jasmine: Hi I’m Jasmine and I’m a stripper. :)

Archie: This Jasmine lady is very nice. Glad we were able to rescue her.

Later.

Bluto: Argh! Give me back Elizabeth! I’m trying to protect her! 

Archie: We need to stop the Proto-Daddy! We have to kill him.

Elizabeth: No I can’t kill the closest thing I had to a protective brother.

Archie: I understand that Elizabeth but we have to stop him or he’s gonna cause more death and destruction. I would love if there was another way. Including there’s no turning back if you have to stop him.

Elizabeth: I understand but let me be the one who has to put him down. I’m not going to enjoy this.

*Puts him through a tear that sends him into space as he falls from orbit.*

Bluto: Nooooo! You were my best friend Elizabeth!

Elizabeth: :(

Archie: I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure he was a great friend. *Hugs her to comfort her.* You’re still a good person.

Booker: Argh! That’s it boy scout let’s fight! Why the Hell aren’t you mutating? Why are you so badass? How are you able to kill so many of my troopers with some what ease! Fight me boy scout! I’ll show you how a real soldier fights!

Archie: Okay gruff old man!

Booker: No you beat me! I just want my daughter back! She’s the only important thing in my life! She deserves better than this. :(

Elizabeth: You’re my father. 

Archie: I’m not gonna kill you because while you’re an asshole. You don’t wanna hurt children and you still love your daughter. Now let’s go Elizabeth. 

Later.

Atlas: Alright Arch we’re close to getting to Ryan. How about you go to Ryan and take him down. Whether you kill him or not. I’ll take care of Tenenbaum and Elizabeth since they trust me a lot. Even though with Tenenbaum she still doesn’t trust me fully.

Archie: Thanks Atlas. You’re a great friend. :) Now excuse me while me and some others go to Ryan. You can take care of the two closest people I’ve known in my life. I’m sure they will be in good hands.

Later.

Archie: It’s over Ryan! 

Ryan: A man chooses. A slave obeys. A broken slave has no purpose. You’re a broken machine who’s entire life was a lie. 

Archie: Bullshit. >:(

Ryan: Would you kindly? Familiar phrase.

Archie: Ah my head hurts AND OH MY GOD ATLAS KEPT USING THAT PHRASE AND I’VE BEEN SEEING WEIRD SHIT LIKE ME WANTING TO KILL YOU!

Ryan: Yes he has and you saw that Fontaine was involved in your process. Now beat me to death with this golf club so you can prove you’re just a slave.

Archie: Hell no old man! >:( *Takes the genetic key and goes back to Atlas.*

Later.

Archie: Atlas how did you know of the WYK plans?

Atlas: I don’t know what you’re talking about boyo? But hey did you know Elizabeth’s lips taste like strawberries? She tried to kiss me you know.

*Atlas gets knocked out by a wrench and Archie finds the two ladies tied up.*

Elizabeth: Oh my God you came back! I found out I was born full of ADAM!

Brigid: Yes he did thank goodness you came back. Atlas terrorized us! 

Archie: I’m here to save you two from Atlas because he’s been lying to me about a lot of stuff. *His radio gets called.* Hello?

Atlas: Code Yellow. >:)

Archie: AHHHHH! I’m slowly dying and it’s more raw now! My life is flashing right before my eyes! 

Elizabeth: Oh no Archie! :(

Brigid: We need help and have to find the stuff to stop him from dying! We owe it to him!

Archie: I’m slowly losing my mind! I’m dying! I’m remembering everything! Andrew Ryan! Frank Fontaine! Yi Suchong! Brigid Tenenbaum! Jasmine Jolene! the Lutece twins! Johnny Topside! What the Hell happened to me!? What is my life!? I’m remembering everyone I met in Rapture! I’m not 23 and actually 5 years old!? My name is Jack Ryan!? What the Hell happened to my life!?

After that he wakes up.

Archie: Brigid knew who I was! I’m angry! >:( She had a hand in ruining my life!

Elizabeth: Archie no! I forgave Brigid! Please don’t hurt her!

Brigid: Ah yes you’re pointing a gun on me that I made sure has no ammo. I think you finally remember everything. :(

Archie: My real name is Jack Ryan. I’m actually 5 years old. I literally was ordered to snap a puppy’s neck by Suchong. Frank was gonna use me to save Elizabeth and kill Ryan! You were one of the people responsible for ruining my life!? And you didn’t tell me when you found out it was me!? I’m not a actual human because of what you, Fontaine, and Suchong did to me! I was supposed to be a slave! What the Hell did Johnny Topside do to me!? >:O

Brigid: Yes I had a hand. But I feel great shame. You were meant to be a sleeper agent. But Johnny discovered you. He couldn’t handle the idea of someone like you going through that. So he kidnapped you, punched Suchong in the face, and he had help reprogramming you. I felt empathy as well. This happened when I realized what I did to the Little Sisters. Me and him changed your life. We gave you the name Archie. While the Lutece twins made sure you were in a place where Fontaine could never find you.

Archie: Johnny did that?

Brigid: Yet due to the experiments done on you. Along with you going through military training. You became stronger than you ever were. Yet it was your own choice to become a soldier.

Archie: Woah.

Brigid: Fontaine used Johnny’s death as propaganda. As if Johnny was the first to rebel against Ryan. In a way he did. But the truth was that all Johnny wanted for you was a normal life. In a way he was practically the real Atlas in a way. Since Atlas was inspired by him. Including some of Johnny’s traits and memories went to you in a different way. He became a slave to give you freedom. And I feel terrible that I couldn’t save him. :( You don’t have to forgive me. 

Archie: I forgive you. ;_; *Breaks down crying as Brigid, Elizabeth, and the Little Sisters hug him. Because before this. He showcased he was more human than he ever was.*

Later.

Archie: We gonna stop Frank! 

Atlas: Oy you fucking mistake! You were the closest thing I had to a son! You were meant to be my Ace In The Hole! Yet you didn’t kill Ryan! You got too close to Mother Goose, the Little Magician, those brats, and anyone else! Johnny Topside ruined everything! Tenenbaum betrayed! So you know what, I’m gonna take the woman you’ve grown to love! She and all the ADAM in this city are gonna make me a lot money! You are gonna die alone because you have everything I didn’t have!

Archie: Johnny Topside was more of a father than you ore Ryan could ever be! >:(

Atlas: That’s it time for the disappointment wrench! >:(

*Hits him with the disappointment wrench.*

Elizabeth: No! ;_;

Atlas: My secret is out! I gonna get the Hell out of this city! Everything’s gone busto!

Archie: We gonna save Elizabeth! He has the genetic key! We need to kill Frank Fontaine!

Daisy: We the remaining rebellion can help you!

Archie: That’s great! But I’m worried we may need some Little Sisters help to free Elizabeth! I don’t want to put them in danger.

Brigid: Don’t worry I’ll trust you and we believe in you. We’ll help however we can.

Later.

Archie: It’s okay Elizabeth! I’m coming! Holy shit Frank is that you!?

Atlas: I’m half transformed by this ADAM and using some power from Elizabeth. Now time to go mano a mano against you.

*Both men just scream battle cries at each other as they fight to the death.*

Atlas: I’m so angry at you! I’m gonna beat you to death! Meaning you can’t save this woman you’ve grown to love! 

*Miranda, Sally, and some Little Sisters free Elizabeth so she can use a tear on him.*

Atlas: Ah crap! 0_0;

*Archie screams a battle cry as he stabs Atlas in the chest with a ADAM syringe and hangs him brutally down a glass ceiling. Resulting in the death of Atlas/Frank Fontaine.*

Archie: Hooray we did it! :)

Elizabeth: Yes we did it! :)

Daisy: Fontaine is dead! Ryan is gone! Let’s make Rapture a place where a community can safely live at. :)

Archie: I’m not alone anymore too. I have a family now! 

*Two months of changing stuff as much as they can. Since there is the scary risk if Rapture is found by the surface.*

During that time, relaxation, relationships developing. Also this.

Jasmine: I’m sorry that I sold you for money. I know you must hate me. 

Archie: I forgive you. :) I understand and you’re my birth mom.

Jasmine: Thank you. ;_; *They just hug each other.* I’m so proud of you.

[cecilspeaks]

153 - The Heist, part 1

Constellations are fan art depicting ancient gods.   Welcome to Night Vale.

I’ve said many times that science is neat. But sometimes it is also messy. Carlos converted one of our guest rooms into a laboratory so he can spend more time at home and get some needed renovations done on his laboratory downtown. Which seemed like a great idea, until I realized that it’s impossible to contain chemical odors and stains from getting all over the rest of the house. Not only did acid eat through our new Egyptian-tiled backsplash, but also a petri dish grew feet and walked outside, only to walk back inside tracking mud all over my new handwoven Svitzian rug. The last straw was when Carlos stained all of his shirt sleeves, not to mention his hands and, somehow, even the (cords) countertops a dull green, which completely threw off my kitchen color palette. I told Carlos he had to stop, but he insisted he had made a major breakthrough in his doorless fridge invention. “Cecil, this is so exciting,” he said, bouncing up and down like a child who wants a toy or needs to pee. “The problem with refrigerators is the door. In order to put food in or take food out, you have to open the door, and that’s totally  bad because it lets all the cool air out, raising the temperature of the other food inside. I told him that’s not that big of a problem, but his face darkened and he said, “Baking is an exact science, Cecil. If the butter is off my a couple of degrees, my croissants are ruined.”

I understood, but I asked that he find another place to conduct that particular experiment. He’s turning everything in our home a dull green, including his own skin. Fortunately, my sister Abby and her husband Steve Carlsberg just bought a new house. Ever since his promotion to vice president of the Last Bank of Night Vale, Steve has been saving up to buy a larger home for his family, one with a yard for dogs, no stairs and wider doors for his daughter Janice’s wheelchair, and even his own man cave, where he can raise bats and cultivate rare crystals. And they finally closed on their dream home this summer. They bought Janice a car too, complete with accessible hand controls, a state of the art sound system, and a moon roof that closes automatically at night so you never have to see that awful moon. Anyway, there is also a giant empty storage shed out back of their new home, and Steve and Abby told Carlos he can work in the shed until his laboratory downtown is ready to use again. So far, it sounds like everything is working out fine for Carlos, although he did accidentally leave a large green handprint on Janice’s new car. The good news is, she thought it looked really cool, so she decided to leave it.

Listeners, I’m getting word that there’s a robbery taking place in downtown Night Vale. Three people have entered the Last Bank of Night Vale and are demanding money from the tellers. The robbers are wearing masks of former US presidents Richard Nixon, William Henry Harrison, and Emma Goldman. The Sheriff’s Secret Police, as well as the Sheriff’s Overt Police, are on the scene but the perpetrators have begun to take hostages and the police are trying to negotiate. The robbers have not stated any demands yet, so the police are left to guess what they want. One officer suggested giving them a million dollars, which was (-) [0:05:52] accepted by the fellow officers as a great idea. Because, while human lives cannot be distilled down to a monetary value, a million dollars is pretty cool. But this idea was shot down by Sheriff Sam, who pointed out that the department does not have a million dollars. “What if we got them a puppy?” another officer offered up. “My basset just had a litter and I thought we’d be able to sell them, but it’s definitely a buyer’s market out there for hounds,” the officer continued. “Anyway I’ve got a brown one with white spots and two white ones with brown stops. I’ve named the Chutney, Footstool and Bob Ross. Footstool is the runt, let’s give them Footstool.” “We’re not giving them puppies,” Sheriff Sam shouted. “Oo, what about an Applebee’s gift card?” another officer said. “Worth a million dollars.” “Or a coupon book for free favors,” another said, “like repainting the guest room or raking leaves or – oh, wait, we’re the police right? A free crime day! They, they could use that coupon today, and we don’t have to arrest them and file all the paperwork, and the hostages get to go free. We could even have a coupon for a 15 minute backrub.”

All of the officers clapped for this idea, not just a win-win but a win-win-win, for the hostages, the robbers and the police. All except Sheriff Sam, who silenced them all with a loud whistle. More like a pan flute, really. It’s an enchanted whistle that causes vocal cords to stop working. “We are police,” the Sheriff scolded. “It is clearly stated in our oath of office to never give backrubs to bank robbers.” They then set to work trying to devise a plan to stop the robbery and free the hostages in the bank. Oh dear. Uh, listeners, I was just talking about my brother-in-law Steve, and here comes this terrible news. Um, I have no further information about Steve’s condition right now, nor the other citizens who are being held at gunpoint inside the bank. I will update you as events progress.

In the meantime, let’s go to sports. The Night Vale high school Scorpions opened their season this Friday against the Whispering Forest Wood Dogs. Scorpion’s head coach Latrice Beaumont said this will be a tough match up. The Wood Dogs, a team entirely comprised of trees, are roundly regarded as one of the toughest defenses in the state, with their tactic of whispering compliments to opposing players, until those players themselves turn into trees. Last season, Whispering Forest dealt to Night Vale its only loss, as nine of the Scorpions starting offensive players, including quarterback Junius Duncan, were won over by the Wood Dogs’ pleasant cooing. By the end of the game, the field was covered in trees, many of them former Night Vale high school student athletes. And Whispering Forest snuck out with a 3-to nothing win on the late field goal, that was somehow kicked by a tree. Coach Beaumont says she plans to give her players ear plugs to help dampen the whispers from the Wood Dogs’ defense. She also has uglied up the Scorpions’ uniforms adding mustard yellow and hot pink argyle atop the dark purple jerseys, hoping that the arborial defenders will find little good to say. The Scorpions are starting a new quarterback this season, sophomore (phenome) [0:09:20] Julie Dobbs, who won the job because of her prophetic dreams. Her slumbering subconscious is able to see the future, most notably other teams’ defensive strategies. She also uses her dream journals to develop a nearly unstoppable offensive game plan. She also owns her own football, which was a huge plus for the coaches. Good luck this weekend, Scorpions! We’re pulling for you.

I now have the names of the hostages being hold at the Last Bank of Night Vale. Jesse McNeil, a security guard who has worked at the bank for nearly 50 years, oh Jesse. What a sweet old man. He says hi to me every time I go there, always has a smile and a compliment. Why, just the other day he said to me, “Heard you on the radio, Cecil, and I was beaming with pride.” Another hostage, bank teller Genevieve Daly, who started at the bank this week. Oh Genevieve, what a tough break. Just now that we’re pulling for you. Bank customer and dinosaur expert Joel Isenberg. Oh Joel, I know Joel! He’s such a smart guy. And the last of the hostages: staff supervisor of the bank, Susan Willman. OK well, tough.

Unfortunately, after several grueling minutes, negotiations between the sheriff and the robbers have broken down. So the police have decided that the only way to break the stalemate is with physical force. While this makes sense in chess, I don’t know if this is such a good idea for hostage negotiations, listeners. But the police have advanced into the building to engage the thieves directly.

Witnesses reported hearing several gunshots, but they said the noises could also be fireworks, part of the day long celebration of Lee Marvin’s 31st birthday, which was back in June. Oh. Happy late birthday, Mr. Marvin. You don’t look a day over 30.

We cannot see inside the bank and no one has emerged yet. I will have to report back later as soon as I have – oh no wait, wait. I’ve been told that the bank is on fire now. The west wall of the bank is engulfed in flames and the Night Vale fire department is already on the scene. They are shouting at the fire to stop being such a nuisance, but the fire does not appear to be listening.

Oh, this isn’t good. And even more frightening for me, I did not see Steve Carlsber’s name on the list of hostages. Abby told me he was at work today, but why was he not taken hostage? I can only hope he had gone to lunch when the robbery began. Steve, if you hear this and you’re at lunch, don’t go back to work, it’s on fire. I feel so powerless. All I can do is hope And bring you the weather.

[My Friend” by Dominique Chantel Worthing with Barrett Ward, https://soundcloud.com/dominique-worthing ]

First, the good news. The hostages have been freed. Inside the bank, the police drew their weapons on the robbers, but could not get off a clean shot because of the hostages blocking their line of fire. The robbers fired back, forcing the police to retreat behind a Coinstar machine and a full sized promotional cardboard cutout featuring a hooded man, his jagged smile just barely visible in shadow, holding a raw slab of red meat with the bold tex below him reading: “Great mortgage rates are inside of you”. But the second wave of officers blocked the thieves’ escape from the front entrance. Then, and Sheriff Sam did not see how this happened, but a fire began in the bank lobby. It spread quickly and the room filled with smoke. In the confusion, the hostages broke free from their captors and the robbers ran from the police. Fire engines sprayed water and broadcasted loud admonishments at the fire to knock it off already.

Susan, Joel, Genevieve and Jesse ran out into the street covering their faces, choking on the black air. As Jesse emerged, his 75-year-old body was knocked backwards by one of he fire engines’ hoses. Jesse was soak head to foot. The firefighters apologized, but Jesse merely brushed himself off and then generously complimented their work by saying, “I see you’re fighting a fire.” What a gentleman. The three perpetrators of the bank robbery also fled through the front of the building, but the police quickly halted and arrested them. As the fire finally subsided, amidst the damp charred masonry and broken glass, came another figure. Steve Carlsberg emerged from the bank, sweating and limping, but safe. An ambulance arrived to take the survivors to the hospital, but they all declined, except Steve who had a broken foot and gladly took the EMTs up on their offer. The bank robbers were transported to the abandoned mine shaft outside of town for questioning. It’s an open and shut case. The bad people lose and the good people win, and every single person, even the people who own Applebee’s, is glad no one had to purchase a one million dollar Applebee’s gift card. My brother-in-law is safe, as are his employees and customers. No one died and not a single dollar was taken from the bank registers at the front counter, nor the ATMs, nor the Coinstar. Even the fire didn’t damage those bills.

That was the good news. The bad news: as the police did a final sweep of the bank, searching for anyone else inside, whether they be customers or criminals, they reached the bank’s vault in the back of the building. Before he left the hospital, the police asked Steve Carlsberg to open the vault for them. “We’re sure everything’s fine, “they said. “It’s routine in a bank robbery,” they said. “I understand,” Steve said. He opened the vault, they looked inside, and they saw nothing. Millions of dollars in bills and gold were gone. Sheriff Sam said there’s a conspiracy here, and they’re going to really put the screws to the people they arrested. “No HBO until they explain where the money from the vault,” the Sheriff declared. And that’s a big deal, because a black lady’s sketch show just premiered last month and is crazy good. The Sheriff said they have no clues yet as to where the money in the vault went, but they did discover the robbers’ names are Richard, William, and Emma. Which is interesting because those are the names of the presidents whose masks they wore. “I don’t think that’s a coincidence,” the Sheriff said confidently. The bank lost a great deal of money today and some innocent people lost their sense of comfort, but we are all still alive. At least those in this story are, and I’m so happy to know my brother-in-law is safe, as are Jesse and Joel and Genevieve, whom I’ve never even met. I’m glad those specific people are OK as well as anyone else who was taken hostage today.

Stay tuned next for an unedited recording from two years ago of you talking to a kitten. You sound ridiculous.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Don’t go writing metaphors. Please stick to the similes and literal descriptions that you’re used to.

[thenightling]

My top thirteen favorite individual Sandman issues (Opinion)

Keep reading below...

Warning: Contains some spoilers.

13.  The Sandman Special 1: Song of Orpheus.

The Song of Orpheus is a backstory revealing Morpheus’ falling out with his son Orpheus and the slight revisions Neil Gaiman made to the classic Greek myth of Orpheus visiting The Underworld to try to retrieve his wife.  

In The Sandman, Morpheus is Orpheus’ estranged father.  I love the character of Morpheus but I’ll put it bluntly right here and now.  He used to be an asshole.  He may have even been easy to brand as a villain during his backstory.   

Much of The Sandman is Morpheus’s redemption, setting right the terrible wrongs of his past.   And in Brief lives he is forced to face the sins of his past in regard to how he treated his son.  But here is where we get that tragic backstory and a raw, cold taste of what a jerk Morpheus used to be as a contrast to how much he grows later.     

12.   Sound of her Wings  (The Sandman issue 8)

The Sound of Her wings is the issue of The Sandman that introduces us to Death of The Endless, Dream’s older sister (though she looks younger).  Today she is the official living embodiment of Death for all of DC comics.    Though I have to confess the main reason I like this one is how adorkable Morpheus is when he’s feeding birds.   And that happy expression on his face at the end of the issue. You don’t see that too often with him.   

11.  Calliope (The Sandman Issue 17)  

Just as Song of Orpheus shows us the assholary of Morpheus’ past, Calliope shows us just how much he has changed.   The story is brutal and difficult to read but you also get to see Morpheus as an avenging angel figure, saving his ex-wife from an abusive master who sees her as something less than human.

Poor Calliope was captured and enslaved by mortals who have abused her in the most sadistic and insidious ways.  It’s not just a man abusing a woman (that’s bad enough) but you also see a dehumanization.  The writer currently exploiting and abusing poor Calliope has thought processes along the lines of “It would be wrong if she was a real woman.” 

The fact that she is a muse- a supernatural entity- causes him to treat her as something less than a human being. This is actually a recurrence in The Sandman as we also saw how inhumanely Morpheus’ own captors treated him. 

What happens to Calliope is a chilling display of the inhumanity that could also be an allegory for casual misogyny and to a certain extent, even racism.   The cruelty is such that it’s hard to feel sympathy when Morpheus unleashes his anger on Calliope’s abuser.         

This is also the first time we almost see Morpheus apologize to someone for his previous behavior but he doesn’t actually start doing that until The Season of Mists.

10.   Soft Places   (The Sandman Issue 39)   

Soft Places is a story that can be read at nearly any point in The Sandman.  What I like most about this issue is if you pay careful attention you realize that when Morpheus makes his appearance in this story he is actually between issues 1 and 2 of The Sandman.  He was on his way back to the castle, weakened from his long captivity.  And Marco Polo (lost in time and space) shows him pity and compassion and offers him his water.  For this reason Morpheus helps him to get back home.  

Morpheus sacrifices the last of his own strength to do this, leaving himself at the indefinite mercy of The Soft Place.   Thankfully Gregory (the rather dog-like Gargoyle) finds him and takes him home to his master, Cain at The House of Mystery.

Not only did this give a satisfying story between the first two issues but also teased an what was yet to come and what was happening “Off camera” after the events of A Game of you.   

9.   The Wake: Epilogue: Sunday Morning (The Sandman issue 73) 

I always liked Hob Gadling (Morpheus’ immortal / formerly human) friend.   Here we get a brief story about Robert  “Hob” Gadling.  He also tells about a dream he had and he is given the chance to die but (as always) chooses against it.

Hob’s indefinite life may have actually secured Morpheus’ own posthumous existence as a Dream Entity.   The dream Hob had in this story was of Morpheus (after his death) and Destruction of The Endless.   Here’s the thing though.  At the time Hob had this dream Destruction really was visiting The Dreaming.  And Hob had no idea what connection Destruction had with his deceased friend.  He only knew Destruction as a street artist he had seen once. 

The implication I get here is that Daniel brought Morpheus back as a dream entity.  And with someone like Hob there to potentially dream of him eternally that secures Morpheus’ post-humous existance and freedom from having to be Dream of The Endless for all eternity.   This is how I choose to interpret it.   Call me a dreamer. ;-) 

The artwork is also gorgeous in all of The Wake.  

8.    Midsummer Night’s Dream (The Sandman issue 19)

A Midsummer Night’s Dream happens to be my favorite Shakespearean play so this was a real treat.   We got a fun story and a dark yet also delightfully wicked version of Robin Goodfellow (Puck).  And we got a loving nod to Shakespearean history.  

Morpheus has Shakspeare perform the A Midsummer Night’s Dream play for the real faery court.  And all sort of things happen as well.

If you pay attention you notice Titania tempts Shakespeare’s little son. She also lures him to eat faery fruit.  And anyone who knows faery lore knows what that mean.  She has laid claim to the boy.   He will become a faery and belong to her. And that is a nice, bitter-sweet way of addressing the loss of Shakespeare’s little boy.

The story also has one of the most unforgettable Sandman quotes.   “Tales and dreams are the shadow truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ash, and forgot.” 

7.   Overture Part 6 (The Sandman Overture Part 6)

I love The Sandman: Overture with all my heart.   And it was difficult to pick a specific issue of it to be a favorite.   I chose part 6 because this is the moment where Dream, Desire, and Hope save the universe.   The metaphor is brilliantly obvious.  

The artwork is gorgeous.  And we get to see both Dream and Desire be heroes (”just for one day.”)

You also get to see exactly what happened to Morpheus right before his capture in The Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes.  

6.   The Doll’s House Part 4: Men of Good Fortune. (The Sandman issue 13)

I mentioned before that I love Hob Gadling.  This is the story that introduced us to him. Not only do we get the backstory of Morpheus’ immortal friend but we also get to see our proud antagonist finally swallow his pride and admit that yes, he has a friend.   It’s one of the sweetest issues of The Sandman while also showing how people (in general) don’t really change.  Individuals might but human beings are still human beings and the complaints of the thirteenth century are eerily similar to the complaints of the late twentieth century. This story is also the first time (I think) we see Morpheus say his indignant “You dare?”   

5.  The Parliament of Rooks (The Sandman Issue 40)

This is a fun issue.  Baby Daniel lucid dreams his way to The House of Secrets where  Eve, Cain, and Abel tell stories to him.  Eve tells her own “three-in-one” tale and Abel introduces us to the concept of “Lil Endless.”    

4.   Season of Mists Part 2. (The Sandman issue 23)

This was a great issue.  After all the build up of Morpheus planning to return to Hell to rescue Nada (whom he wrongfully left there ten-thousand-years before) and the fear and dread involved with going back there we find out that Lucifer has quit.   

Lucifer explains to Morpheus why he’s shutting down Hell (Dialogue adapted by the Lucifer TV series for a conversation between Lucifer and Linda). He the asks Morpheus to help him cut off his own wings and finally Lucifer leave Morpheus with the key to Hell.  

Now poor Morpheus must figure out what to do with the abandoned dimension and deal with the various Gods, goddesses and creatures of mythology and folklore who have come to try to lay claim to it.  

3.   Sleep of The Just (The Sandman issue 1)

This is the very first issue of The Sandman and it was very different from the first issue of any other comic book I had ever read before.   A LOT happened here.  Where most comic book writers would have taken this story told in this issue and stretched it out for twelve issues, this was concise and brilliantly written.

The Order of Ancient Mysteries, lead by Roderick Burgess, summon and trap Morpheus AKA Dream of The Endless.   They were trying to summon his sister, Death, but got him by mistake.   He is held prisoner for seventy-two-years before finally escaping and seeking revenge on his captor.  

What I like most about this issue is that the story really ropes you in and the internal artwork reminds me of a classic horror comic, something I really appreciated.

2.  A hope in Hell (The Sandman Issue 4)

This is The Sandman issue where I truly realized I was reading something utterly different.  When I first started reading The Sandman it was mostly to learn Lucifer’s comic book back story but I fast got hooked on THIS story and forgot all about Luci. 

I must confess that though I am a life-long comic book reader I have a habit of skimming or out right skipping most combat scenes.  I find them boring and often over the top.   (I was a teenager in the 90s and early 2000s and got burnt out on over-the-top action scenes a long time ago).  So I fully anticipated having to skim over certain parts of The Sandman.

However...

It was when I got to “the battle” in A Hope in Hell that I finally let my guard down and realized this was something completely different.  This was never going to be like any other comic I had ever read.  There would be no giant factory explosions or characters punching each other on busy center-fold pages full of sound effects and fire.   

When I got the line “I am hope.” I finally let my guard down and understood the real magick in what I was reading.  That was the moment I fell in love with The Sandman. 

 Also I love David Bowie.

1.  Imperfect Hosts (The Sandman issue 2).   

As you may have guessed A hope in Hell PROBABLY should be at number 1 on this list but I have a soft spot for Imperfect Hosts for what a delightful surprise it was for me.

I love Gothic Horror.  I grew up loving anthology horror like Tales from the crypt.   Imagine my surprise to discover The Sandman’s minion “Nightmares” entailed old school horror hosts.  Even Destiny of The Endless, the mad mod witch (The Fashion Thing) ,The Hecatae, and Lucien The Librarian were all old horror hosts. 

To see someone like the Crypt Keeper-esque Cain taking care of the weakened Dream Lord was a treat for me.   I also noticed the loving homages to horror comics artist Bernie Wrightson. 

Bernie Wrightson holds a special place in my heart because many years ago my mother gave me a large coloring book signed by Bernie Wrightson.  I didn’t recongize the name but she recongized his style as something I like.  And she was right.   It turned out I already had several books that had been drawn by him but had never checked the name.   I have long since lost that coloring book... and my mother...   But Bernie was a reminder of how well she sometimes knew me.  And this issue reminded me of Bernie Wrightson and so reminded me of her.  So Imperfect Hosts had to take the number 1 spot.   

It also introduced us to the adorable baby Goldie.

[glittering-snowfall]

Prompt: “He told me to follow him.”

WARNING: ANGST, PAIN, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

This is the sequel to the previous prompt I filled. It makes the crossover much clearer.

He is long and lanky, like a shadow cast at the end of the day. Bony cheekbones. Sunken, shadowed eyes. They match the color of his carnivalesque attire, those eyes. He wears a coat of dark purple – or perhaps maroon, Elsa cannot tell. When the light catches it one way, it seems only the ragtag outfit of a street performer. But when the light catches it another way, it reminds the queen of dried blood. The vest he wears is bright purple – gaudy like a showman’s garb. It makes him seem cheap, a two-bit huckster, hardly a threat. Even the skull and crossbones on his top hat seem only a gimmick to catch the eye of some bumpkin. Yet the rusty, bloody quality of his coat in the light keeps Elsa ill at ease. In the same manner, his eyes seem to flicker in the dim light, shifting like a slippery shadow... one moment violet, another moment seeming to be just touched with flecks of red…

Like a slippery shadow…

His shadow… Elsa keeps her eyes fixed on it, for it seems to move of its own accord. It mimics his movements, but something is just off enough in the synchronization to make her anxious…

“Who are you?” she demands.

The Shadow Man chuckles to himself. Oh, that’s the voice of a girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth, alright. Surly. Proud. Thinks she’s in command. He’s heard voices like hers all his life, talking down to him from their fancy cars, from up on high in their big New Orleans mansions.

He loathes them so.

No matter the time or place, these fat cats always sound the same. High and mighty. Holier than thou. They treat you like the mud beneath their boots, but they’ve got skeletons in their closets, oh yes…

He feels the tremble in her voice. It does him good to feel it. She’s still clinging to her fine airs. What will she do next, threaten call the guard on him? Well, let her wear her haughty tone like armor. No armor will protect her. He already knows she’s bleeding from the inside.

“A friend,” he says smoothly.

Elsa feels her hands grow clammy. His voice is rich as chocolate, deep as caverns beneath the mountains…

“What do you want of me?”

He only laughs a soft laugh, but it has the rumble of far-off thunder. “I think the better question is,” he answers, “‘What do you want?”

She eyes the stranger cautiously. “What do you mean?”

He loves watching the squirms of guilt, loves the moment wayward souls realize in horror that he can see into their hearts.

“Oh, I know what is to have a hard life, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Since I was a kid, I’ve scraped the shit off the streets. But you? Well, darling, I’ll be damned if you don’t put me to shame! Your life seems to wind like one long river of sorrow… How far it goes, you can’t tell, but the black waters seem to stretch on endlessly. You escape drowning once and, why, your little boat up and topples over again… Living in fear all those years, then your parents dying, then seeing your sister cold as ice. My, my!”

As he speaks, her life swirls before her in a cloud of purple tinged with flame. She sees her parents’ ship swallowed by the sea, sees their anguished faces when they realized there was no hope for them. She sees herself helpless in the darkness of her room. And then she sees Anna’s lifeless form before her like a statue hewn of purest ice.

The purple cloud spreads into a fog, and when the fog rises, a world of light and vapor is before her. The light is not purple or crimson, but white as heaven’s light. And there, at the heart of this glistening vision, half shrouded in pearly mists, she sees Anna and herself.

Naked.

Locked in an embrace.

She feels that rich-as-chocolate voice rustling in her ear:

“All your life, you’ve known pain. You’ve thought of others, buried your own wants for others’ sakes. But you know what you want, Elsa. Take it. Isn’t it time you thought of yourself for once?”

Elsa screams – and with her scream, the shadowland of light and pearl tears asunder, falls to pieces. She slumps to the ground and finds herself in the palace hallway once again.

“Never,” she breathes, and her voice is firm.

But her heart is pounding.

“I… I could never… No… Anna is not some bauble you can dangle in front of my face,” Elsa murmurs through gritted teeth. “She’s her own person with her own life to live. She… she wants to be with Kristoff… She is… happy… with Kristoff…”

Crumpled on the ground, she cannot see the Shadow Man’s face.

She cannot see how his face falls, his lips purse together and pencil-thin moustache bristles… only for his whole countenance to regain composure in an instant.

For the situation is salvageable. His mind works steadily as he studies the young queen curled up on the floor, sweat dripping from her waxy face.

As grubby and slick as a bit of shrimp…

…ready for the skewer.

“Always the honorable one,” he says softly. There seems to be no malice in his voice. “Always trying to do what’s best for your dear sister… but think about this, Elsa. The more the guilt, the shame, and self-hatred from this… lustful obsession… eat away at you… the more pain you’ll cause your sister. Already, your inner turmoil is making you revert to your old ways. You’re seeking out solitude, cutting yourself off from Anna again… and she can feel that, I promise you.”

Elsa looks up helplessly. “I don’t mean to…” she whimpers, but the Shadow Man goes on.  

“She might try to pay it no mind now, but give it a few more years, and there’ll be a gaping wound in her heart she cannot name.”

There is violent panic in Elsa’s voice now. “No… no, please, no…”

“Is that what you want, Elsa? To make the same mistakes you’ve always made? To torture Anna slowly in the process, torture the one person you love most in this world?”

Ugly sobs tear through Elsa’s body. The very act of trying to answer chokes her. At last, after many ragged breaths, she manages to speak.

“I wish I… didn’t have these… these feelings…” she gasps. “I wish I wasn’t such a… degenerate… I wish Anna and I could live as sisters, without this… this canker between us…”

In that moment, she wants something only he can offer.

In that moment, he has her.

How changed she is from when she first spoke – the queenly aura crashing down! He loves watching the mighty fall!

He puts a tender hand upon her shoulder. His shadow reaches out from the wall and does the same. She doesn’t even flinch.

Shadow and man cling to the young queen in a perverse image of comfort.

“Me and my friends can help with that…”

***

The great masks leer down at Facilier from the squalor of the voodoo emporium.

“Now, fri-i-e-e-e-nds,” he drawls in his smarmy singsong, “I know y’all were expecting me to swish the smoky souls of both that queen and princess into your waiting nostrils, nudge ’em into each other’s arms and watch ’em fall together like Paolo and Francesca, pretty as a picture, but–”

At Faciler’s “but–”, the eyes of the great masks narrow, burning with unearthly light. The greatest among the masks bares its teeth, a growl rumbling from beyond its jaws.

“Now, let me finish! Let me finish!” he cries, arms gesticulating wildly. “What I mean to say is, y’all don’t know that much about how to work human nature. Y’all are fine fellows, sure, but the darkest thoughts are the only ones to draw you in. Now, I’ll admit, I don’t have the highest opinion of my fellow man, but I know what love is and how it works within a body. You wanted to give her the power to sate her lust, but she doesn’t just lust after her sister. She loves her true. She wasn’t going to go jump at that offer. I threw it in her face and she threw it back at me. She’d rather her sister be happy than she herself have her own happiness. So I had to go about things my own way.”

When Facilier had begun to speak, there had been panic in his voice – but the more he spoke, the more pride scourged that panic away. They from the other side, why, they’d almost bungled the deal. He’d saved it. He alone. Through his own raw wit.

In his heart of hearts, he thinks he is cleverer than they are – and while he’d never say it outright (for he knows their rage would be terrible), in this moment, he cannot help but gloat a little… lord their own ignorance over them a bit.

“What did I do?” he says, in full showman style, as though he speaks to a tourist on the street and not the forces of darkness. “I appealed to that love. I made out that, the more her desires consume her, the more she tortures her sister. Queenie has to push her sister away so as not to succumb to temptation, but the more Queenie pushes her sister away, the more devastated the little princess becomes.  You see, that put our Ice Queen in a bind. If she sacrifices her own longings for her sister’s sake, it doesn’t matter. The sister still comes out hurt. That broke Queenie, broke her down but good. And when she was good and broken, I was able to slip a subtle word in…”

The great masks grin horribly now. Facilier basks in the glory, never realizing that he is less than a dog proud of doing a silly trick for its master’s favor.

“She wants to be washed clean of her sin. She wants never to think of her sister in that away again. That way, she doesn’t have to avoid her – and that way, her sister doesn’t end up hurt, heartbroken, and alone. Isn’t that sweet?” he coos. “Well, gentlemen, I’ve never been much in the revivalist spirit before, but now? What are we waiting for?! Let’s cleanse this poor soul! And don’t you worry, don’t you worry! I’ve been watching the sister too! She’s already on the hook, doesn’t even realize it!”

Facilier’s laughter mingles with the laughter of his friends, shaking the shabby voodoo parlor. His long-fingered hand glides across the floor and the floor opens beneath his feet. Instead of wood, that remote part of Arendelle Castle spreads below him. He sees Elsa where he left her, kneeling as if in prayer. Yet he knows she has not the strength to pray. He studies the fine details of her face as though she were an ornately crafted chess piece. He savors the creases of pain about her eyelids, relishes the brittle grey straw of her hair…

Then he reaches down through the portal and whispers:

“So, your majesty, do we have a deal?”

Elsa’s bloodshot eyes snap open at the prickle of his voice.

Other voices whisper to her and she does not know if they are the Shadow Man’s friends or her own pained thoughts…

You’re a pervert…

Monster…

If you remain as you are, you hurt Anna…

You cause her pain…

You can live with yourself this way…

And with her…

As you were meant to…

As sisters…

What does your soul matter – if you can cleanse this contamination in your mind?

What does your soul matter – so long as Anna is safe from the darkness in you?

“We have a deal,” she murmurs, and shakes the Shadow Man’s hand.

There is a sea of light and color and the world becomes a blur.

***

Queen Elsa of Arendelle sleeps better than she has in ages.

That first night, the Shadow Man watches over her like a dark god. The lines of pain which he so loved in her face are melted now. He has kept his end of the bargain.

When she awakens the next morning, she remembers nothing – not of the Shadow Man, not of the deal, not of her unnatural passion for her sister.

She awakens refreshed. Sunlight streams through her gauzy curtains. Birds twitter with joy.

Anna bounds into the room, hair wild in the morning. “You’re up!” she cries happily. “Yay!”

Elsa smiles at her, a serene and peaceful smile.

“Kristoff and I are going for a walk later on today! We’ll tell you all about it when we get back!”

“Of course, Anna!”

Anna pauses to look at Elsa closer. “You look… different today, Elsa! It’s a good different! You look better than you have in weeks!”

Elsa feels a warm rush of pure happiness.

“I feel better than I have in weeks, Anna.”

The Shadow Man lets out a sharp bark of laughter.

Days roll into months, months into years. The world seems in eternal summer for the sisters of Arendelle and their loved ones. They frolic in the garden. They go for picnics. In afternoons ripe and lush, they make daisy chains in the meadows. Olaf makes friends with the buzzing bees. In the blue glow of nights, Kristoff plays his lute merrily. Anna rests her head gently against his shoulder and Elsa looks on, beaming like the sun.  In all their hearts, it is summer – warm and glorious summer!

Until the day of reckoning comes.

Usually, in the days before a debt is due, The Shadow Man contents himself with his victims’ mounting panic – their hysterical desperation, their attempts to find any way to weasel out of the deal…

This, though? This might be better.

Queenie doesn’t have a clue.

It makes it so much more beautiful when she starts screaming.

Her sister is there beside her, gazing at her with adoring eyes. Adoration turns to horror as that huge mask shows itself, opens its glowing maw, and inhales.

Its first breath flays the skin from off the queen’s back, sucking her backward.

She tries to cling to Anna.

“What’s happening to me?” she sobs, her face contorted with tears and pain.

She screams her throat raw.

Weke, weke! so cries a pig prepared to the spit.

Her screams are music to his ears.

In clinging to Anna, Elsa pulls her along with her.

Even in the cyclone of pain, she senses Anna being dragged along too.

That is why Elsa finally lets go.

For Anna. To save her.

Anna can do nothing, can only watch Elsa be consumed by the neon glow radiating from that mask’s jaws.

The princess of Arendelle stands still as stone, eyes deadened in shock, gazing at the blinding glare of light emanating from the dark entity.

It is at this moment that the Shadow Man strides into her view, striking against the brilliant green behind him.

Seeing this shady figure of flesh and bone, cold shock kindles into outrage. Anna lunges at the Shadow Man, pummeling him with her fists.

Alas, her pummels are far weaker than usual and come to naught, for Anna is too overwrought with anguish and grief to put much force into them.

“Easy there, girl!” the Shadow Man cries. “Easy there!”

“What have you done to my sister?!” Anna demands.

“I haven’t done a thing to her. She made a deal with some friends of mine.”

And he tells her all in naked detail. He even tells her of Elsa’s love for her, how it ran deeper than the love of a sister.

He sees Anna blanch at that and wishes he could take a photograph of her face – so his friends could taunt Elsa with it over on the other side.

He dearly wishes that he could immortalize that look of confused disgust and use it to sting the young queen for eternity.

But as the Shadow Man goes on, Anna’s features soften. Her disgust for Elsa turns to pity and then to some strange mixture of pity and love – love tarnished by bitter knowledge, but love just the same.

That’s what the Shadow Man has been banking on.

“Take me instead,” Anna murmurs.

“What was that?”

“Take me in Elsa’s place. She’s… she’s suffered enough…”

Ah, the better angels of our nature! Sweet, self-sacrificing Anna! Tinged with pity, tinged with guilt. Maybe a trifle of self-blame in there too considering the way he framed the story he just told!

His grand design works.

“You would do that… for her?” he intones gravely.

Anna stares into the yawning chasm of the gigantic mask’s mouth. She stands upon the brink.

“I… I would,” she says softly, and her voice shows she is afraid.

“Done!” the Shadow Man thunders – and with one rough shove, he hurls Anna headlong into the neon-green abyss.

“I’ll mention your offer to my friends on the other side!” he calls after her. “To tell the truth though, I don’t believe they’ll take you up on it! They’re not the sort of folks that go altering deals out of the goodness of their hearts! I’m sure your sis’ll appreciate the sentiment though!”

He leans in over the mask’s teeth to mock her, then pulls himself back.

Wouldn’t want to get pulled in himself.

He twitches in mild apprehension.

When the mask’s mouth closes, he looks up at it with a smirk.

“You don’t plan to take her up on that offer, do you?”

The chamber rings with ominous laughter.

“I thought not.”

[clown-bait]

Paranormal Journeys (Monster Roommate AU) Pt 9

WOW IM SORRY that took way too long to get out mostly because of work and trips and costume making Ive been so busy I've had barely any time to write. But anyway here it is the big reveal. Hope you enjoy all the violence.

Ch 16 Reunion

Leech continued to sing her song despite the look of annoyance from her captors and the run of her black syrupy blood falling from her nose into her mouth. The taste of it was revolting but she wanted them to know what was to come. They wont even get a chance to float now because there wasn't going to be anything left.

“Will someone please shut her up she's been singing ever since we cut off her finger.” Chris groaned and nosferatu flashed her moonlike eyes in his direction.

“Why don't you step a little closer and try yourself Chris!”

The group turned at Leech’s sudden mood change she seemed less playful and suddenly way more dangerous than her captors originally thought. Chris glared at Danielle who was rubbing Zander’s back as if she had done nothing wrong. The ghost hunter turned away from the scene. He hated this woman more than he disliked the fang filled chatter box bleeding on the wood floor. Leech flashed her teeth at him again and a too wide for comfort grin slowly grew on her face

“Psst let me go and I’ll promise I’ll leave you alive for awhile. Its her I want.”

“Is it me or did she suddenly get way more creepy?” the ghost hunter squinted.

“Well you did cut off her finger dude.” Zander grumbled.

“How long do you think it'll take before that thing shows up?” Rick asked wearily

“Is that a hint of fear I smell Ricky? Don't want that he likes fear.” Leech lolled her head to the side the loss of the ichor from her finger stump starting to make her delirious. Or maybe it was the hunger slowly rising from her belly. Either way her calm antagonistic composure was melting away into something much more dangerous.

“Shut up seriously!” Chris hissed at her as Ricks’ face turned to that of worry.

“But its not Penny you have to worry about, the only way he’ll be tasting you on my tongue after I get out of these chains.” the vampire flicked the long muscle out of her fang filled mouth like a snake dragging it over her lips in mock seduction.

“She’s got a point you cant show any fear.” Danielle said from her seat on a barrel.

“Rick bro you really got to get a hold of yourself that thing is dangerous and we can only stop it if we work together.” Zander placed his hand on his team mates shoulder while Chris glared at the woman behind him.

“He cant help it dude he's only human. Hell even I’ve been freaked out ever since I had that weird dream! And since when are we taking orders from her anyway”

“Oh! I smell a soap opera looks like I'm getting dinner and a show tonight!” Leech smirked and sat up criss-crossed with mock interest.

“Don’t you talk about Danni like that bro!”

“Oh we have nicknames for our one night stands now?”

“Chris what the fuck is your problem with the women I date? Why can’t you just back off dude?”

“Well well you found someones leg to hump Daneille? How interesting!” the vampire mused.

“Shut up Leech”

The nosferatu winked and continued to lazily smile at the group that was quickly coming apart. She could honestly care less about her food’s love triangle unfolding before her. Just as things were starting to heat up a knock came at the door of the barn the group went silent and the vampires long ears twitched upward.

Zander cautiously opened the door while rick picked up an old rifle taking aim just in case. A man stood alone in the snow in the dark winter night. He reeked of the sewer.

————————-

“So you found her what do you plan on doing now”

“Do you really want to ask that Mikey?”

“You-no you can’t!”

“Are you forgetting who I am human?”

“Please let me reason with them at least they’re innocent in this!”

“I’m already allowing you to live sheep boy, they took something from me, they will pay.”

“Just one chance clown please.”

The clowns frowned for a moment then its scowl began to soften into concentration. Mike stared at it as it eerily drooled and clicked low in its throat. Pennywise suddenly smiled and his eyes began to glow. Mike knew it couldn't be trusted it looked too excited, too hungry. it was planning something.

“I will allow you to try.” Penny’s nefarious grin grew. “Yes no harm will come to your fellow humans!” he let out a sickening chuckle towards the end.

“Why do I not believe you”

“Aww whats the matter Mikey? Don't trust your old friend Pennywise? We've been through so much together!”

“Its because of what we've been through I don't trust you.”

The clown let out a musical laugh.

“Try try try sheep boy all I want is to free my mate! Cross my heart and hope to die! Hahahahahahaha!”

“If only you would…” Mike grumbled “Im going to warn them, collect the girl and go.” he said turning his back to the creature for the first time. He could feel its hungry glowing eyes staring him down with pure hate as he walked away from his mortal enemy. Mike could at least try to get everyone out of this alive… even Pennywise much to his own self hatred at the thought. He needed the clown awake and happy and that wasn't going to happen unless they got the girl back. He had little choice but to try to reason with her captors for their own sake maybe if he was fast enough he could save everyone. Even with IT’s reassurance he knew the clown was up to something and mike had a feeling he only had minutes to stop it.

————————-

Leech shifted in her restraints as her captors went to answer the door. If it was penny he was walking into a trap and it was all because of her. She took the opportunity to try to pick the lock on the shackles around her wrists with her claws but gave up when she realized she had no idea what she was doing.

The man at the door continued to beg and plead with the group to leave saying they were all in terrible danger. Leech twisted in her shackles again. Penny was here. She could feel her own skin rubbing raw from the pathetic attempt to escape. The nosferatu shut her eyes and let out a long exhale. Instead choosing to try to determine who the lone stranger was. His voice was quite familiar and his scent was of dust old paper and a faint hint of smoke. The librarian? What was he doing here?

The vampire’s question went unanswered when she heard a click and felt a release of pressure from the taught chain attaching her to the wall and the shackles on her wrists. Her eyes flew open wide and feral and she began to chuckle. her laughter grew louder and louder as she got to her feet and metal crashed to the wood floor. A pair of yellow eyes faded into darkness behind her. Leech’s laughter started to grow manic as she cackled into the ceiling and her claws and fangs grew long and sharp. Mike stepped back in surprise at the sight before him taking note of the faint yellow glow of the two orbs in the darkness next to her. Leech began to full on scream laugh before snapping her head forward and lunging full speed straight at Danielle who was scrambling back behind the barrel she had only moments ago been sitting on.

“SHIT SHIT SHIT SHES LOOSE?! WHO THE FUCK WAS WATCHING HER?” the she-wolf screamed as leech leaped into the rafters above slashing out lanterns and blanketing the room in darkness save for a few flash lights held by Rick and Zander.

“wWhatever you do, DO NOT lose sight of her!”

Rick’s flashlight began to shake as he shined it on Zander who shot him and a terrified looking Chris a puzzled look. Two white gloves came out of the darkness and came to rest on the ghost hunters shoulders.

“Little Zander Mcpherson. My my my its been a looooonngg time hasn't it? Why I remember last we met you were but a little insignificant snack! Had to find something much bigger and much tastier than you.” a sing song voice rang out in the darkness Zander twisted around in the clowns grip to stare at it in both rage and horror.  

“N-no no way bro don't you dare talk about my sister.”

“Tasty tasty little girl she was, you should have seen her face when I took it off.”

The clown chuckled to himself and backed away into the dark his voice becoming more distant

“Why don't I show you! How about a little family reunion!”

A young girl maybe 12 or 13 years old walked out of the dark her face horribly disfigured as if she had been mauled by a mad dog. Bits of flesh hung off her skull and a chunk of her cheek flapped free just below her missing eyes. Zander began to sob.

As the clown created a beautiful distraction a pale grey spindly form dropped from the barn rafters in front of Danielle. Who shined a lantern in the direction of the creature she could just barely make out the claws and long sharp teeth but her eerie reflective eyes lit up in the dim lamplight like a  wild fox in the dark.

Leech began a horrific cackle as she approached her captor stalking towards her theatrically  twitching her claws here and there in restraint.

“Ya wanna know what real torture is like Danielle? Ya wanna know how the professionals do it?”

The werewolf scrambled back with as much strength as she could muster but a taloned foot stabbed into her calf and yanked her back as the nosferatu slammed her claws into the wood floor by her face caging the she wolf in.

“Down below they don't just tear out your guts like savage beasts. Down there they do it my way dog. They go for what hurts. You ever have your nerves severed just so? Your tendons plucked at like guitar strings?” leech cooed at the girl trying to get away but each time she moved the talon in her leg pushed in deeper causing the alpha werewolf to howl in agony. “You know they played stairway to heaven on my right arm while I was down there? I gotta give those boys props they do good work, and after a few days being torn apart and stitched back together I got to try a little myself.” the vampire seemed to be swallowing something back as if teetering on the line of control. A little too far one direction and she’d be sure to fall into total beastial insanity. The other inhabitants in the room seemed to pause their scuffle and listen in on the exchange, even Pennywise cocked an eyebrow in her direction when he heard the cry of pain from the she-wolfs lips. Leech dug her foot talons in once more wiggling them a bit to add extra insult to injury. She caught the she-wolf’s arm and began to gently stretch it out positioning the razor tips her claws over Danielle’s writs pin pricking the skin just so. “First you slice open the skin and peel it back.” the vampire ghosted the long pointed talon of her hand down the werewolf’s forearm. “Then I’d get to play a little tune.” she placed her claws back into position lightly fingering out guitar chords over the sensitive soft under-skin of the girls wrist. Danielle struggled and squirmed earning her a dissatisfied hiss from the creature holding her down. Leech grabbed the wolf’s face and dragged her fangs across the skin of her ear.  “Don't you dare move now unless you want me to do it for real. Oh, and don't. Fucking. Scream.”

As Danielle let out a terrified shriek, Leech screamed back in her face just before something cold and metal pushed against the side of her head and fired. Rick stood shaking holding the old smoking rifle as the vampire dropped limp to the floor with a horrible thud that made Pennywise quickly shift back to his preferred form and roar in agony. His charge ended as soon as it began when his mate began to float up the ichor leaking from her face reversed its direction and a bullet was caught in her fangs. As she drifted upright her head snapped to the side at Rick eyes abnormally wide glowing sickly yellow while her face remained horrible and skeletal. Too many teeth began to split at the wound in her cheek. When she shrieked it was unlike anything anyone had heard before. Her voice sounded like fifty beings at once all screaming over each other and it was very clear that the creature known as Leech was no longer present in the room. She lunged at rick with horrible unpredictable speed latching her long sharp fangs into the man’s neck and began to suck with an unrivaled hunger, the wound in her head slowly closing its self with each greedy gulp.

Pennywise watched with almost amazement as if he had just made a life changing discovery and his mind had been completely blown. mike called out to him from a nearby window breaking the creature from its awestruck state.

“WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING CLOWN?” the librarian shouted.

“I-I created something. For the first time.” he stuttered a bit still wide eyed and slightly quiet.

“Her? You created her?!” Mike asked frantically as he turned away from the horrifying scene of people he had just spoken to being ran through a living paper shredder.

“No.” Pennywise replied quietly “Not her…..them.”

“What the hell does that mean?!”

When the clown didn't answer Mike tried another question. “I thought you said no harm will come to them!” he shouted finally getting the clown’s attention.

“No harm will come from me Mikey, Leechie on the other hand isn't part of our little deal.” he grinned as a woman’s horrified screaming was being mixed with the sound of wet tearing and crunching bones.

“You sick bastard both of you!” the librarian turned his back to the window “Is she like you are there more of you?”

“Why are you still here?” the clown growled refusing to answer Mike’s question. Pennywise pushed off the wall and made his way into the bloody massacre picking up the loose chain still attached to the shackle on Leech’s neck. He gave it a harsh yank back as she began to descend upon a mortified sobbing Chris and Leech clattered to the floor backwards in a mess of razor tipped limbs. The vampires claws came up to her neck and scratched frantically at the shackle earning her another hard pull backwards till she was on her knees near the clowns feet. Penny quickly pushed her to the ground roaring so loud his face began to split and the walls creaked from the vibrations. The two began a screaming match of terrifying proportions until the struggling possessed creature below the clown calmed in the shining light now emerging from Pennywise’s throat. His grip on her chain grew slack moving to caress her shoulders and hold her in his arms as the yellow lights in her eyes began to dim. He gently placed a hand on her abdomen while creating a trill like churr in his throat until finally the lights in his mate’s eyes sunk down till nothing was left but dazed glossy blues. Leech mumbled something about kidneys as she slowly came back to reality, a theatrical voice she knew well brought her back to full consciousness.

“Its time to wake up little hunter.” he said as he pushed his nose and lips onto her temples.

“Snuggle muffin?” Leech shut her weary eyes tight and purred as Penny’s own eyes flew open dropping his mate immediately.

“PEACHY! Not in font of the food!” he snarled gesturing to Mike who had braced himself against the window pane both in nausea and laughter.

The vampire grinned wide and raised her eyebrows at him. Penny looked furious.

“Once again I get you out of trouble and this is the thanks I get?” he snarled pulling the chain and bringing the exhausted Leech up to his fangs.

“I got shot in the face and lost a finger for you I think were even.” she grinned at him unable to turn the relentless taunting off.

“Only because you never listen.” the clown grumbled

“Looks like someones a little tense hmmm Ruffle Wuffles?” Leech teased him boop-ing the eldritch horror right on the nose as Penny winced at the pet name.

“I shouldn't have saved you.”

“Like you would have lasted more than a week without me.” the vampire wheezed. Pennywise pulled on her chain again holding her inches away from his face.

“Little brat!” he snarled hot puffs of air washed over Leech’s face.

“Your little brat.” she whispered into his lips as her claws tangled into her clowns hair. Their lips reunited with fresh heated tension the clown letting out a soft groan into her mouth half in annoyance half in secret relief.

“well thats a sound ill never be able to un-hear”

Penny and Leech’s lips separated abruptly and leech glared at the librarian now standing in the doorway trying to light a hanging lantern to survey the damage. He knew the others were dead what he didn't not know was they offending team of ghost hunters were just piles of uneaten shredded flesh laying all around him.

“I wouldn't if I were you Mikey.”

“Unless you can stomach leftover hamburger.” Leech added with a chuckle and turned to her mate “Hey by the way I have like no memory of half that fight what the hells been going on?

“I also demand answers!” Mike yelled as he regained his composure the door slammed behind him locking from the outside. Pennywise placed his confused mate on the ground and a menacing grin grew across his face. “What are you doing let me out we had a deal!” Mike shouted tugging at the door.

“Hush Mikey I’ve changed my mind. Besides the other one got away and its rude to take someones meal before they're finished.” the clown was right Chris was nowhere to be seen even in the darkness of the barn.

“You bastard!” Mike hissed

“Just providing for my family Mikey. What kind of father would I be if I didn't bring my mate fresh meat for our growing brood?” Pennywise grinned beginning to step out of the light when a voice broke his assault. His favorite voice. Only this time he was in deep deep trouble.

“EXCUSE ME WHAT?!”

--------------------------------------------------------

I think someones sleeping on the couch again tonight.

[fanfoolishness]

no words for heaven or for earth (5/?)

Hawke was left in the Fade, but Varric thinks, or hopes, that she’s still alive. And he has some surprising evidence. Read here at AO3.

Part 1: Where’s Hawke? |  Part 2: because you aren’t here | Part 3: the lonely ruined tower | Part 4: what’s real, anyway?

Part 5: the birds in the hedgerows, 2200 words.

“Varric?  Varric?”

He jerked back to himself with a gasp, shaking.  “I saw her,” he said wildly.  “I saw her -- but she said -- she said --”

“It’s all right, Varric,” said Namira, edging closer to him. “Take a moment.  Breathe.”

He looked around.  The other mages stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, but shit, maybe he had.  This was what humans and elves had to deal with all the fucking time?  He took several deep breaths through his mouth, shoulders rising and falling with each breath, but he couldn’t make that fearful despair fully vanish.

“What did you see?” asked Vivienne cautiously.

Varric rubbed his face, grimacing.  “I was in Kirkwall.  I saw her in the Hanged Man, where we used to meet.  I told her we had to get her out of there.  She said --”  He managed the words, but they came out small and cracked.  “She said it was too late.  That I was too late.  Shit.”

“No,” said Namira.  “That can’t be true.  If she had died, how would she speak to you?”

“The Divine was not the Divine, and yet she was,” said Dorian.  “Perhaps a similar spirit thought itself to be her.”

“Or perhaps a demon was attempting to affect your mind,” said Vivienne.

“I don’t know,” said Varric miserably.  “But this… dream… was harder to navigate than the others were.  I kept forgetting I was dreaming.  Does that make sense?”

Solas exchanged meaningful glances with the other mages, then held out his hand, a blue shimmer coalescing.  

“You could ask first,” said Varric as the magic settled over him.  He winced as it sparked around him, through him, then dissipated.

Solas’ mouth was a thin line.  “The presence of the Fade is weaker now,” he said.  “Your connection to it is waning.  Your ability to walk clearly in the Fade as a mage does diminishes.”

“What?  No.  We need more time. If she’s still out there, we have to figure out how to find her.  I have to figure it out,” groaned Varric.

“Then we have even more reason to move forward as quickly as possible,” said Namira.  “You were in a pub in Kirkwall?  Does she know the place well?”

Varric laughed despite himself.  “You still haven’t read Tale of the Champion?”

“I’ve been a little busy,” she said, only a little defensively.  “I’ll get to it, I promise!  But right now I’ve got other things on my mind, haven’t I?”

Varric nodded.  “All right, all right.  Yeah, she knows it.  It might have been more home to her than her home in Kirkwall was.”

“And you know it well?”

“I live there, Doodles.”

She blushed.  It would have been funnier if he hadn’t had panic clawing at his mind.  

Hawke’s face had been so… defeated.  Was it her?  Or some kind of trick?  He tried to remember, but the details were going fuzzy.

“Then that’s where it will have to be,” she said.  “Your friends in Kirkwall, they’re mages?  Send them another letter and let them know that I think I’ve got a plan.  If Hawke’s still there, it just might work.”

“And if she’s… gone?”

Namira swallowed.  “Then we fight whatever comes out of that rift, and I close it as soon as I can.  But at least -- at least we’ll have done everything we can.”

Varric nodded mechanically, looking down at his hands.  It had felt so real, holding her hand.  His fingers curled and uncurled, remembering.  

Real.  It sure wasn’t what it used to be.

Varric paced in the desert twilight, his steps jerky, his fists clenched at his sides.  He wished he felt anything like tired.

He’d asked Namira for something to make him sleep so that he could get back into the Fade.  She and Solas had both been hesitant.  Sure, there was shit that could knock him out.  But it might knock him out so deeply he didn’t visit the Fade at all.  He wished he knew what Keeper Marethari had used back in Kirkwall to get them into the Fade; Namira wasn’t familiar with it.

Just go to sleep.  It shouldn’t be so hard.  

The sand slipped under his boots, a shower of the constantly-shifting, and he slipped-stepped-slid through it, the sun’s warmth still palpable through his soles.  He dared the sun to fall below the horizon faster.  Maybe then he’d find a bit of sleep.  Maybe then, he’d find another chance to try and get through to her.

There was a shadow stretching over the sand ahead of him, a shadow far too lean and tall for his own.  And the hat --

Varric sighed.  “What do you want, kid?”

“It isn’t like the stories,” said Cole quietly.  “The details are so small.  A few black hairs caught in the weave of her red scarf.”

“Kid…”

“Sand scrapes on your knees, rough, raw, real.  From when it felt like she was yours.  They still sting.”

“Kid, would you please --”

“Letters written in her hand.  She wanted you to send them after the battle.  Bethany should hear some good news for once.”

“Cole,” said Varric sharply.  “That isn’t -- helping.”

Cole nodded, drawing himself up to his full height; he bowed his head, ghostly pale beneath the large hat.  “I know,” he says, “but it helps you to say it doesn’t help.”

Varric stared up at the kid for a minute.  Then he laughed, a brittle sound.  “You’re something else, kid.”

“I’m a spirit,” said Cole helpfully.  “Not a something.”

“Right, right,” said Varric. He watched the sun sink, achingly, beyond the horizon.  “Can you tell if she’s there?” he asked quietly. “Is it really her?”

Cole fell silent, his hands hanging awkwardly at his side.  “It’s… hard to see, this side of the Veil,” he said.  “Her traps on the tower stairs.  Her banners waving, even in the emptiness.  You believe she’s there.”  He knelt down in front of Varric and smiled, the effect somehow both disconcerting and kind.  He reached out a pale hand.  “Sleep,” he said.

“What?” asked Varric, and then his legs buckled.  The sand was soft.

“Sleep,” said Cole, and Varric had only a vague memory of Cole lifting him before he passed into darkness.

Min Hawke rubbed her eyes with her hands, disbelieving.  “I never thought I’d see you again,” she said happily.

Mum and Dad just laughed, sitting out on the fallen log behind their home in Lothering.  The fields spread out around them, lush and full, ready for harvest.  She could just make out Bethany and Carver laughing and chasing each other in the distance.

“I feel like I’ve woken from some kind of nightmare,” said Hawke.  Molossus drowsed at their feet, content and snoring.  His ear twitched.

“You’ve been away from home for some time,” said Dad.  He reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of a gnarled hand.  “We’ve missed you, Min.”

“Look at the twins,” said Mum.  “They’re so happy to see you.  Where would they be without their big sister?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly a disturbing flash of memory leapt into her mind.  Carver, grey on the dirt parth; Bethany, coughing in a hall of stone.  She shook her head.  Far away, she thought she heard a tapping sound that seemed familiar, but she wasn’t certain.

“Without me there’d be no one to keep them in line, and we couldn’t have that, could we?” she asked, moving her mouth into a smile.  She watched the twins sparring in the field, Bethany’s fireballs being dodged by Carver, Carver’s blade catching the fire’s glow.  The flame looked strangely greenish in the reflection.  

“Especially since you’ve already failed them before,” said Mum absently.  The tapping sound was a little easier to hear now.

“I know, I -- what?” said Hawke.  

Dad nodded, his broad, easy smile handsome as ever.  “Your mother, too,” he said, chuckling.  “It was terrible what he did to her, isn’t it?”

“Stop it,” said Hawke in confusion.  She looked down at her hands, trembling.  For a moment they were bloody, but then they were clean again.  Molossus looked at her expectantly, fresh blood on his mouth.  He panted silently.  The tapping was closer than ever, slow, steady, wood on stone.

“You can’t go back,” said Bethany.  She was pale at Hawke’s arm, dark shadows under her eyes, her Grey Warden armor dull in the greenish sunlight.  When had she come in from the field?  “That’s why you have to stay.  To make up for everything.”

The field shifted, changed.  Kirkwall smoked in the distance, fire in the far districts, the smell of smoke on the air.  Mum’s hands were tight on Hawke’s shoulders, painful even, sharp-tipped fingernails digging into her skin.  Carver looked up from where he had been petting the dog, his head at a funny angle to his neck.  

“You can never go back to Kirkwall,” said Carver.  “Fancy you as a Champion!  Meant to keep your city safe.  Ha!”

The tapping thundered in her ears.  Tap.  Tap.  Tap.  “It wasn’t supposed to end this way!” she cried, her voice ringing through the fields, through the city streets.  Tap.

Her family was quiet and gray in the distance.  Molossus cringed at her feet.  Anders brought his staff down against the stone ground.  Tap.  Tap.  Tap.

Hawke looked at him, her heart breaking again.  “Why didn’t you trust me?” she asked.  

He smiled ruefully.  “You did not trust me, either.”

The truth of it hurt, an old agony.  “But maybe there was another way!  Maybe the two of us together --”

Anders let his staff fall to the ground, his mouth twisting.  He knelt before her, and she remembered a blade in her hand, his back defenseless, bowed.  “Am I more than the cause for mages?” he asked.

“You were mine, once,” she said quietly, stroking his hair.  He closed his eyes against her touch.

He took his hand in hers, and kissed it.  “Could we start again, love?  Could we fight for what is right, together?”  He gazed at her, his hazel eyes gentle.  But behind them was only darkness --

And then, sweet and lilting in her ear, the song of birds.  Hawke shook her head.  The birdsong was clean, incisive, fresh.  “Chaffinch,” she said.  “Robin.”  She pulled her hand away from Anders and listened, watching the birds overhead.  They were coming nearer.  “Blackcap.  Chiffchaff, skylark, songthrush!”  She got to her feet, leaving Anders behind her, running to follow the birds.

“No!” Anders screamed, and she chanced a glance at him as she ran; he was a terrible creature of shifting rags and a howling empty face, remorse emanating from him in a cruel wave.  

The birds sang, brilliant and glorious, clustering on a beautiful hedgerow blooming red.  The hedgerow funneled into a path, the walls growing taller, the plants closing in behind her.  The Anders-thing screamed behind her, but his voice was dim, muffled by the glossy green plants and the chattering birds.  

She ran along the hedgerow, her chest burning, her head beginning to clear.  It wasn’t Anders!  It wasn’t her family!  This was the Fade!

She rounded the corner, and skidded to a stop.  There was an archway beneath the green branches, which seemed to her to be moving slowly as if alive.  The birds perched in them, their voices hushed.  In the archway were Merrill and Bethany.  They were insubstantial, flickering in the green light, but their smiles were solid.

“Oh Hawke!” said Merrill delightedly.  “You made it!  I knew you would.  You’re much too clever to let the Fade fool you.”

“Min,” said Bethany, wiping her eyes.  “Sister, you don’t know what it means to see you.”

“Are you… real?” Hawke asked uncertainly.  “You see, nothing else seems to be…”

“You’re right to question, but you’re wrong, it really is us,” said Bethany quickly, squaring her shoulders.  “We haven’t much time.  It’s difficult projecting ourselves into the Fade like this.  But we were trying to lead you to safety.”

“The birds,” said Hawke at once.  “You used to throw millet to them, and grains leftover from harvest.  It’s how I came to like them.  You always put the seed outside my window.”

“I always liked the rare birds,” said Bethany.  “So you insisted on liking the most common one.”

“House sparrow,” said Hawke, grinning.  One landed on her shoulder, chirping.  Bethany gave it a strange look, but Hawke was too grateful, too excited, to notice.  She turned to Merrill.  “And you were the plants, yes?”

“And the red flowers,” said Merrill proudly.  “Red’s always been your favorite color, hasn’t it?”

“Right in one, Merrill.”  The sparrow chirruped again.

“But you can’t stay with us long.  Listen.  We’ll try to keep any demons off of you as long as we can,” said Bethany.  “Varric’s looking for you, sister.  The Inquisitor is going to open a rift, and you’ve got to get to the Hanged Man -- quickly!  They’re coming!���

The hedges shuddered, marching away from her, and the birds shrieked, flying towards the hedges.  Green leaves, shredded, were flung into the air; the hedges writhed and rustled, and the remorse demon wailed.  “How do I get there?” Min shouted.  The sparrow fluttered around her frantically.

“It’s the Fade, Hawke!” cried Merrill cheerily, flickering out of view.  Her voice came from somewhere in the hedges, growing fainter.

“It’s about will, sister!” sang Bethany from the flock of birds, and Min closed her eyes, pushed through the archway, and she willed.

[dragonagecompanions]

DAI companions (and advisors, if you're able) react to a teenquistor having a panic attack?

Cassandra: She does not know what to say at first. It is not that the Seeker has never felt panic, or never succumb to fear, but this is beyond her experience. She has seen others, those touched by war and stricken by the memory of it, suffer such episodes, and so knows the basics. She does not touch them, only stays at their side until the moment passes and then offers what she can for them. If it happens in the field she takes charge, either halting their progress or taking the lead if time and their surroundings do not allow for  pause. But she never judges them, and if they speak to her afterwards she is frank.

“You are young, and yet you already a great burden Inquisitor. I do not think less of you for being struggling through what those older than you cannot imagine. I am at your side, whatever you need.”

Solas: For all that much of his learning comes from long study with spirits Solas does not need their wisdom to identify what is happening. Magic will be no help, only overwhelming an already struggling mind, and so he only stays by them and speaks softly until they are calm again.

And when it is over, when the terror and the shaking have passed, he takes them to the solarium and pours a hated cup of tea.

“It is a natural thing, particularly for a young mind. Your spirit is overwhelmed, and so must find a way to compensate. There is no shame in needing to step back, to breathe and resettle yourself. And if you need a haven I am here.”

Varric:For all that Varric hardly ever censors himself or his own experience- and indeed, only elaborates on the facts to make a better story- one acedote his public will never hear is how he woke, shaking and afraid, for nights after the Conclave. His sleeping mind could not comprehend even the though that Hawke might have been there, might have died with such a sudden and terrible ending. It took long moments then, sheltered by the bedroll and a hastily lit candle, to calm his pounding heart and gasping breaths. 

They were some of the worst moments in his life, and so when the author sees the same thing in their young leader he knows the cause. If they can bear to be touched he urges them to sit, to put their head down and just breathe until its passed.

“It’s okay kid, we’ve got you. Just let it out, we’ve got your back. Nothing’s going to touch you here.”

Sera: It’s not a prank and it’s not fun, and the first time Sera is alone with the Inquisitor when something triggers them the Red Jenny isn’t sure what to do. She just needs them to friggin…friggin stop and tell her what to do! But they can’t, and they are scared, and in that moment the teen goes from Herald and Inquisitor to one of Sera’s people. Its not even a conscious shift in the young elf’s mind, but it overtakes her all the same, and she finds herself speaking to the Inquisitor like she might to one of her people after a bad job.

“’S no worries, yeah? Shite happens, we get past it and do it again. Just gotta keep breathin and..and have some pie! Pie’s good for eating and for throwing We’ll throw some pies and it’ll be all settled and even. Just…just come on back, yeah?”

Vivienne: Panic attacks are not so uncommon amongst young mages new to the circle, and as First Enchanter she is aware of several techniques that help ease the transition. So when the Inquisitor struggles with just such an attack Madame de Fer is prepared for it. If they will allow touch she gently leads them to either her bower or a more private, quiet corner where they will not be disturbed. 

And if not she uses her imperious manner to drive onlookers about their business and build a private area for their young leader, cooling or warming then with magic as they need it.

“There now, my dear, simply handled. Breathe now, darling, deep breathes. All will be ell. I am here beside you.”

Blackwall: He knows the feeling, remembers the mind numbing soul clenching fear of a panic attack as he watched a carriage burn, watched a mentor die, watched a sky split open. There’s no shame in it, and especially not for the young thing they’ve yolked the world to. He stands quiet guard by their side, stern glare deterring all those who might try to hamper the Inquisitor, and later takes them somewhere quiet so that they can feel safe.

“There’s no shame in fear. It keeps you alive, keeps you safe. Maker knows you have plenty to be afraid of, and not much time to do it. I’m here, if you ever need me. Or come to the stables– the horses are good company if you need something solid to hold onto.”

Dorian: The first time he had ever felt that level of raw, uncontrolled fear was uring a duel, when a Terror spell had gone awry. It still lingers in his nightmares sometimes, the sensation of cool marble against his face and the inescapable fear that he was going to die, that he could not breathe please Andraste he couldn’t even see–

It’s a terrible feeling, and a spell can be reversed. But panic attacks have no such cure, and having ridden out one or two on the ride south he’s learned the signs. There is no magic to stop it, alas, though if sound or light exacerbate the issue he casts barrier to block out both. And after he leads them not to the tavern or the wine racks, but to his quiet alcove and a cup of tea magicked warm again.

“Thee you are. Sister Leliana is above, Solas is below, and yours truly shall be stalking vint like through the shelves. There is no place safer than this point in Skyhold, and no place more comfortable than this chair. Nap or drink your tea as you like– no one will bother you, and you need only to shout and I shall at your side.”

Iron Bull: In actual fact the Iron Bull is pretty good at triggering panic attacks. its a tried and true Ben Hassrath interrogation technique, when used on the right person. And he’s been with a partner or two in his time, who have pushed themselves too far in a power game and need someone to help calm the waters. If they are okay with contact he gets them to their quarters and enscones the young Herald in a pillow and blanket palace of ingenious design. Designed to create a feedback loop of comfort and security he lets it work it’s magic, and stays with them until they are calm again.

“Reactions is a funny thing. Fear is good, it’s healthy and it keeps you breathing. Panic gives you strength, either to run away or to fight. But sometimes when there is nothing to fight and the panic come you freeze up, can’t get out. Nothing wrong with that, it’s normal. You’re doing fine, boss.”

Cole: “Reaching for the threads but they are slippery, too many too much  I can’t I can’t no breathing no thinking have to run away have to get away. Trembling shaking, something is wrong, something is happening, can’t can’t can’t. You can though, there’s nothing stopping your breathing. You are safe in Skyhold. The air doesn’t want to hurt you.”

In the end Cole serves as a better messenger than comforter, but becomes the most efficient watch dog against future attacks.

Advisors

Mod Fereldone

[believe-that-you-can-my-friend]

Can i request for a bad boy serpent jughead jones and the sweet girl next door betty cooper fiction and maybe with a steamy make out session scene? Thank you!

Fruit Punch Lips & Leather Jacket Dreams

Part 1/3: But Mama, I Want a Bad Boy

So the story is slightly AU. Jughead never attended school in Riverdale, never was friends with Betty and Archie, as a matter of fact they didn’t even know each other. No murder ever happened, Betty was never pinning over Archie. I also made some other small changes that you’ll notice upon reading. Plus, I made Reggie a Serpent too, for no reason really, I just wanted him to be Jughead’s childhood best friend in this universe. :p Last but not least, Betty turned out to be extremely feisty while I was writing this; she is still a sweetheart in pastel colors but her character is a tad more Betty Cooper in episodes 12 &13. I hope that’s ok! Thank you for requesting, dear anon! Enjoy, lovelies! ❤️(Okay, this is 34 pages long. I don’t even know why, I don’t even know what I have written in so many pages. I apologize in advance for that mammoth length. Warning: turns mildly smutty but definately hot and heavy at the end.)

Southside Elementary Schoolwas a rare example of fine architecture in the small town of Riverdale. Rebuiltat the outskirts of town, after a disastrous fire caused by a minor during aprank gone wrong a couple of years ago, and squeezed between Southside Kindergartenand Southside High, it looked nothing like the two crumbling, cement coloredbuildings on its sides that lacked any learning motivation. It was modern, purewhite with splashes of green and purple and it brought a fresh air of change, apromise that maybe the next generation of Southside kids would not have theominous fate of their ancestors.

The Serpents had outdonethemselves with the construction of the of the building, hiring Fred Andrewsand his crew – one of the few people that wasn’t driven by discrimination andalways agreed in doing business at the south side of town – and wasting a largeamount of money from their infamous Serpent vault to create a place appropriatefor shaping young minds. Maybe that’s why sweet and always optimistic BettyCooper smiled every day at three o’clock sharp when her sneakers would hop upthe marble stairs of the buzzing with life building. Because it was proving herright; Serpents would do anything for their children, just like any otherparent on a prestigious office job. Serpents weren’t the monsters everyonethought they were.

Her excuse for walking all theway from their quaint north paradise to the disreputable south district fivedays per week was something that Betty always found fascinating; volunteering.Nurturing and caring by nature, she was constantly filling her free time withactivities that offered assistance to those needed; taking care of stray catsand dogs down at the animal center, gathering food supplies and clothing forthe homeless at their local church, being an annual blood donor, being proudcofounder along with her best friend, Veronica Lodge, of the two years nowsuccessful female empowerment club, Girls Speak Louder, at Riverdale High. Andwhen senior year came and she needed a bigger challenge, something to bring herout of her good girl comfort zone, a tiny announcement had caught her eye,stuck on the bulletin board at the center of her high school corridor; Volunteers needed at Southside Elementary School.

Her sister was excited likeher, her mom was concerned, her dad was livid. Hal Cooper, always the biggestsupporter of his daughter’s choices and the proudest for her accomplishments,was petrified that his innocent little girl had decided to step foot in thatgodforsaken place amongst snakes and muddy waters. Betty talked him into it ofcourse, mustering all her good girl charm during one of their father-daughtermechanic sessions, and here she was now, already two months in her position ofassisting little ones in reading and writing after school, along with beingresponsible for the school’s still limited but gradually expanding library.

“Miss Betty, you look sopretty today. Your shoes are the cutest.” Sasha, one of the youngest in her‘class’ complimented her like every day, the little girl holding the teen in apedestal of idolization. Betty smiled sweetly down at her, turning her feetinward so for the tips of her violet floral slip on Vans to touch incoordination with a smooching sound out of her lips, indicating them kissing,and causing the little girl to giggle.

“Thank you, Sasha, but youdefinitely are prettier.” Betty spread positivity like a pro, feeling her heartswell when the small angel beamed up at her, one of her front teeth missing andmaking the smile even cuter.

“Will you do my hair inpigtails like yesterday?” she demanded in a sugary voice, chubby fingerssmudging the lead against the open notebook in front of her.

“If I see all those sentencescorrectly and neatly written.” The teen sent her a playful grimace and muffledlightly her frizzy locks in affection as she nodded cheerfully and went back towork. Her green eyes darted to the rest of the kids, some writing and somequietly reading, and seeing as nobody seemed to need her assistance, she movedto the window for aimless gazing, relishing to the rare feeling of warm sunraysbathing her face and the skin of her arms her blush pink sleeveless button-upshirt left uncovered.

Loud cheers and cheerfulshrieks caught her attention and Betty focused on some kids playing soccer inthe yard, a lanky raven haired girl amongst all the boys scoring a goal beforedoing a cartwheel in victory with a carefree laugh that brought a laughingsmile on Betty’s lips too. She landed just on time to greet five guys that hadjust entered the school premises, the one in the very front high-fiving her andmuffling her hair in affection, and Betty felt as if a meteor had struck at thecenter of her chest making her heart bounce violently at the sudden impact.

She had seen them before,rarely around town but frequently the hours she was volunteering, the two ofthem dropping by almost every day to pick up their younger siblings whereas theother three just tagged along. Betty was guessing they were around her age anda close group of best friends, an exclusive and childhood originated boys’squad, carrying around an air of bad boy charm and a smoldering confidenceinflicted by their matching black leather jackets; Serpents.

However, the tightness in herchest wasn’t because of fear or intimidation, the basic normal reactions everycitizen of the north side showed upon coming face to face with the imposingpresence of anyone from the South. It was because of him, the one always at thecenter, always at the front, that had the ability to fuel the sleeping lava atthe depths of her monotonously perfect self. She didn’t know who he was, shedidn’t even know his name, but what she did know was that when he was around,he was pulling her in like a magnetic force, like her own personal center ofgravity, and her eyes couldn’t do anything else but stare, gawk at his terribly handsome face and lean physic clad in darkcolors, while her mind was turning into a useless organ, floating in theturbulent waters of a hypnotizing nirvana.

Today, of course, was noexception. Betty couldn’t help but roam her eyes over his willowy body, longlimps and slender figure, so far from all those typical buffed jocks and so Betty’stype, spotting his usual black jeans and combat boots that gave him the bikerguy vibe that worked wonders into her mind and, to be honest, her body too. Whatcame as a surprise though was today’s choice of shirt, a white cotton vest,skintight and tucked inside his jeans, him not wearing his Serpent jacket ontop of it but having it draped over his shoulder, due to the afternoon heat. Andwhat a pleasant surprise that was.

Betty could feel her skinburning, not from the furnace like weather outside but from the way the materialwas clinging deliciously against his muscular chest, his board shoulders, histoned stomach. For the first time his biceps were uncovered, well-built andflexing in a manner that screamed raw masculinity, and she actually felt a tadannoyed at his habit of wearing what seemed like forty layers of clothing,keeping those bad boys only for the girls that Betty was sure were constant inhis bedroom. At that thought her eyebrows knitted together in a frown, the girlactually catching a hint of jealousy puffing her chest, shaking her head tosnap out of her reverie and scold herself for how stupid she was acting,letting her hormones and tiny idiotic girl crush get the best of her.

But then he smiled at theelementary kids that were now flocking around him bouncing in excitement, thatboyish smile that Betty had seen him sport before only around his little sister,and made her stomach flip in an unknown fashion, as he ran his fingers throughhis always messy black waves and the youngest Cooper could actually feel herknees getting a little weak at the sight of him being so effortlessly gorgeousand so hot. A giggly boy passed himthe ball and he dropped his leather jacket and messenger bag recklessly to theconcrete, rolling the worn out soccer ball with the tip of his combat boot overhis foot and then bouncing it on top of it, juggling the ball from one foot tothe other and tricking expertly the boy in front of him, stealing the ballcompletely. Due to his physic he was very fast and agile, coltish legs makingit seem like he was flying amongst the hyperactive children, musclesstretching, shoulder blades flexing, dark mane swinging sexily against hislaughing eyes. Betty was having trouble breathing, the air inside the smallclassroom suffocating her, and her hand came unconsciously to rub the base ofher neck uneasily, a heavy gulp vibrating under her sweaty fingers as theypushed the lapels of her shirt more open in a desperate attempt to supply herbrain with much needed oxygen. He was in an illegal biker gang, one of thosebad guys that everyone kept advising her not to even spare a second glance at.How could he be so charmingly handsome and irresistibly human?

He was good at the game, hewas being cocky and confident, doing tricks and advanced moves despite playingwith eleven year olds and the heat Betty was feeling was getting amplified, forsome reason the blonde being attracted to his whole Alpha male persona. She hadbeen around a lot of star athletes in her life as a cheerleader but he hadsomething else, a raw passion and intensity from having learnt to kick a ball carelesslyin the freedom of some soil, pebbly streets, an unremitting youthful ardor thatthose prestigious golden boys would never gain in the luxury of their personal traininggyms. With a gracious twirl, he trapped the ball between his ankles and jumped,sending it flying backwards before twisting his heels in a way that Betty hadseen only professional soccer players do in the games her dad watched in thebasement, kicking it over his head and to his sister who scored once again, theunknown Serpent and his friends erupting in hollering cheers, practicallyshaking the thin glass on the windows of the building.

The raven girl ran to him inglee and he hoisted her up his back to lie on her stomach, both of themoutstretching their arms at the sides and mimicking a helicopter as he ran in acircle, Betty giggling lightly along with them at their celebratory ritual. Herlaughter though was cut short when, free of his sister’s weight, the guyresponsible for her flaming cheeks and fluttering heart pulled his vest fromhis pants and used the hem to wipe the sweat off his upper lip, flashing her adelicious, glistering set of abs and a small hint of raven hair right at the centerof his two prominent V lines, disappearing seductively under the waistband ofhis jeans.

Betty actually bit her lip tohold back a moan. For the first time in her life she was feeling such a strongattraction, a burning desire, for a guy, let alone a complete stranger. Yes,she had had her fair share of crushes in the past and some heated make outswith her two previous boyfriends on backseats or under the bleachers butnothing compared to this, nothing ever came close to that powerful urge she hadto kiss him long and senseless just by looking at him. That’s why things neverwent further than some heavy caresses and awkward grinding over clothes witheither Trev or Chuck. But staring at him now, flashing boyish smiles andrevealing more and more hard mass of an Adonis-like chest, good Lord, Betty’smind was creating raunchy scenarios and she needed to be stopped.

He was the one to snap herback to reality and his cocky attitude that seemed to be a reoccurring trait ofhis character. Because he knew that all this time she was staring at him, evenputting on a little more of a show just for her sake, so when he let go of hisshirt for it to fall loosely against his toned abs, his baby blue eyes,mischievous behind disheveled black locks, connected with hers through thewindow and he winked at her, he gave her an actualboyish wink and a sexy side smirk that melted her insides in an instant andcaused her heart to stop for a torturing second. Instantly, blood shot in heralready rosy cheeks, her green doe eyes became round balls of embarrassment andBetty averted her gaze to her feet, mentally cursing herself for being caughtbut mostly for not being anything like Veronica or Cheryl, both of them pros atflirting and seduction.

“Miss Betty, I can’t spellthis word. Can you help me, please?” a voice called from the back of the smallclassroom and made her jump, disappointed that her daydreaming bubble had burstso violently and he was now with his back at her, walking away with aprotective arm curled over his sister’s shoulders. A heavy burden ofdisappointment landed on her chest and she sighed sullenly as she turned away too,ready to get back into her bubbly Betty Cooper mode and assist her littleangels.

What she didn’tknow was that the strange boy was still smirking. And it was all because of thestunning blonde vision that had caught his eye long before he had caught hers.

Doesn’the have an IG account? Or even a Facebook one? What century does he live into?I wanna see the goods…😉

Betty shook her head with atsk of amused disapproval at the blue bubble that popped on her phone’s screen,accompanying the multiple others that filled her and Polly’s personal chat.They were texting back and forth for an hour now, the two sisters talking abouttheir day, Polly’s tons of reading for med school, Betty’s latest article forthe Blue & Gold, Betty’s recent boy toy obsession. The younger Cooper hadmade the mistake to confide in her sister about her small maybe there crush that very night after the winking incident,merely because she just couldn’t get him out of her mind and she needed to venther teenage frustration to somebody before she would end up locked in a mentalfacility. However, that proved, well, a mistake because now her teasing wasrelentless. She loved her sister to the moon but her pestering nature andprankster mentality was the only thing Betty definitely didn’t miss now thatshe was in California for college.

Yousound like Veronica and that’s scary, have that checked. 😘 And I told you,I don’t even know his name!!

Betty pressed the two exclamation marks in frustration, hitting replyand actually groaning out loud at the response that came in barely a heartbeat.

Then ask him!

So simple, yet, so impossible. She sighed, biting her lip as the tappingof her thumps were filling the silence around her.

He’s bad news, Pol…

The “read” sign appeared under her white bubble; Polly started writingsomething, then stopped. Betty signed again, dropping her phone carelesslyinside her turquoise backpack with a heavy heart. She knew that there wasn’tgonna be a response because her statement was right; he was bad news for girlslike her. He was raised in a world of pedal smoke and black leather and she camefrom a chamomile scented and strawberry flavored wonderland. They weren’t yinand yang, they were simply complete opposites and Betty was old enough to knowthat such fairytales never had a happy ending. Behind the words of love andprosperity that people always added at the end of every fantastic story about agolden-haired princess and a dark charming prince there was this whole otherdimension in which he and she were never destined to be together.

Betty gathered her things with an atypical somber mood, then put herdenim bomber jacket over her scantily clad form. Her schedule at school todaywas heavy, with two extra hours of cheerleading practice after the end of classes,so she didn’t really have time to change out of her uniform before coming tothe south side for her volunteering work. The little girls were ecstatic andthe little boys in awe upon seeing their teacher in the colors of blue and goldthat suited her like a second skin but right now she was actually feeling alittle wary about her attire. Betty always felt good in her cheerleading uniform,still with a long list of insecurities on her shoulders but comfortable in herown skin nonetheless, but at that very moment her chest tingled with thissubconscious fear that every woman in a short skirt sported upon walking aroundalone after darkness had settled. It was in the feminine DNA, subscribed intheir genes, and she hated with every fiber of her body that in their time andage she was still supposed to feel threatened by any man that happened to passher by in the street.

But Betty Cooper rarely gave up, if ever. So when her dad had told herthat he wouldn’t be able to pick her up tonight – that was their deal for hervolunteering at the Southside, him dropping by every night after her shift todrive her home – she didn’t tell Archie to come instead, as Hal had made hisdaughter promise him. She was a big girl now, a woman; a strong and fearlesswoman. And she was more than capable of walking home alone without needing anyman to play her knight in shining armor. She was going to be her own knight, ifneeded.

So she waved at the polite middle aged janitor, tightened her preppyponytail and headed for the road, enjoying the earie vibe of the south side ofRiverdale at night. Her thoughts wandered to him again like every other night –secret adolescent musings under the protective pastel veil of her teenage room thatleft her lying with an aching longing on her virginal white cotton sheets –trying to guess what grade he was in, if he was a jock or maybe he liked poetryor photography, if he enjoyed living in Riverdale, if he dreamt of getting outof here just like her. And as time was passing by quickly and her squeaky whiteNike sneakers were a few meters away from Sweetwater Bridge that separated thetwo sides of their town, loud guy voices made her ears perk and her hands bawlinstantly into fists, as shiny green eyes turned to the source, a small andabandoned looking park in the middle of old, graffiti filled houses and lifelessoak trees. There, on the only rickety bench amongst rusty swings and avandalized seesaw the four boys of the young Serpent squad were engaged inheavy banter and boastful laughs, sharing a joint and a cooler of beers.

To her surprise, she wasn’t scared at the late night encounter, onlyseverely disappointed that for the first time he-who-doesn’t-have-a-name wasn’tat the center of the small ground of friends that seemed to always be attachedat the hip. Betty’s beautiful features dropped in a heartbroken pout asdesperate eyes scanned each of them in hopes that her secret boy crush was alsolurking in the darkness and she was just unable to notice him – impossible butstill she had to check – but once her attempts were proven fruitless and hermind snapped out of her lovesick girl world, that’s when she felt theatmosphere shifting. Four pairs of eyes were staring back at her, setting herunder the microscope with their scrutinizing gaze as she was lazily walking by,Betty feeling an actual shiver run down her spine in uneasiness, as she snappedher head down and away from them, cheeks flushing crimson and heart boundingagainst the golden R of her cheerleading shirt.

“Nice legs!” one of them hollered in boyish delight, sending his friendsin a fit of manly laughter before joining in too. Betty flinched at hisdisrespectful attempt of a compliment and shoved her fists further into thepockets of her jacket, picking up her step. Suddenly, she was hyper-aware ofeverything around her; the chilly breeze of the early-spring night, theobnoxious fluorescent light of the cheap street lamps over her scantily cladform, the light thudding of her backpack against her waist, the brushing of hertiny cheerleading skirt over the very top of her thighs, barely an inch longerthan her bomber jacket. Her nerves were on code red territory.

“Man, those suckers from the north side always get the good ones.” Hemurmured in appreciation, loud enough for her to hear, before shouting againtowards her direction. “Don’t you want a change of flavor, babe?”

Betty’s tongue slipped, a tsk sound of disgust accompanying her fed-upeye roll, stealing a subtle glance from the boy that thought himself to be anirresistible player. Freakishly tall, board shoulders, well-build physic, spikyraven hair; yeah, she was right, a Serpent anda jock. Double that male ego cockiness she loathed.

“Come on, Reggie, leave her alone.” Another boy scolded his friend butBetty wasn’t really fooled by the insignificant chivalrous intervention.

“We’re just messing around here, babe.” Reggie, as she had now learnt,spoke up again, an undertone of mischief coloring his baritone voice. “But hey,if you really want some Southside in you, here’s your chance.” He barked a loudlaughter and the boys around him couldn’t resist laughing too, clapping soundsfilling the air by what Betty assumed were congratulating hi-fives.

She knew that any other girl in her shoes would duck her head to theground and practically run away from the possible danger. But she was BettyCooper, cofounder of a female empowerment club and vocal protestor against anykind of harassment and bullying, so she came to an abrupt stop and held herhead high, feeling her dark palette of colors staining the perpetual sunshineof her personality. Turning swiftly on her heels, she started pacing towardsthem in determination, dry leaves getting crashed violently under the weight ofher footsteps, and her green eyes became two pools of painful annoyance uponseeing them murmuring in excitement and puffing up their chests, clueless andhopeful that such a preppy looking girl was ready to walk on the wild side withthem.

Betty stopped right before the guy with the big mouth. He towered overher, way too many inches taller and boarder than her, pleased lopsided smirkintact, but her confidence never got bent, maybe because behind the cocky glinton his coal like eyes she could only see boyish teasing and not the actualbloodcurdling threat that some guys, and even older men, in her seeminglyperfect side of town had inflicted upon her and a plethora of other girls withjust a simple yet utterly perverted glance. Nonetheless, the guy in front ofher was still rude and disrespectful; and ignorant impoliteness was ranking onthe top five bullet points of Betty Cooper’s list of pet peeves.

“Why don’t you say that to my face, huh?” she tilted her chin up, herserious expression and curt tone catching him off guard. “Go on, what? You lostyour balls now that you are face to face with the cute, defenseless little girlyou were looking to score five seconds earlier?” Reggie shuttered someincoherent mumblings, chuckling in awkward obliviousness as he tried to come upwith another of his clever remarks. Betty didn’t let him with a shake of herhead and knitted in frustration perfect eyebrows.

“Seriously, what made you grow such an inferiority complex that youdesperately want to validate your masculinity by throwing tactless andborderline laughable comments at any girl, with the hope that someday one ofthem might actually take up on your offer and finally give your right palm abreak?” He bounced his head back in surprise, eyes blinking rapidly, the boysaround him going silent and still as statues while watching the hurricane thaterupted from the sweet looking blonde girl. “Were you raised in a misogynist environmentor is it just you, compensating for a rather small capacity of male genes?” she colored the adjective withenough sarcasm and casted her judging green orbs momentarily to the front ofhis jeans, catching with the corner of her eyes two of his friends droppingtheir jaws at the well-played insult. “I could stay here and educate you about howinsensible and, bottom line, politically wrong this catcall culture you are soin too deep is but I’d rather save my breath and my well-rounded opinions for somebodywith an actual dimensional brain, so simply hear this out; get over it, man upand stop walking around like a freaking sexist cliché.” Betty ended her speechfull of spank, head raised in superiority and inner pleasure upon reddeningthem speechless, her shiny green eyes never unleashing the hold of his nowdisorientated and full of embarrassment ones.

A slow clapping echoed in the stillness of the night and startled her,snapping Betty back into reality and dissolving her Simone De Beauvoir momentwith a gentle blow, before, there, through the darkness, emerged the darkprince that had invaded her dreams, dressed in black and leather, lips looselycurled in an easy going smirk around a burning cigarette. She took a shy stepback, intimidated and flustered by his presence as always, lowering her Bambieyes to the ground and curling her arms awkwardly over her chest, stealingtiny, self-conscious glances under her lush eyelashes of his approachingfigure. There was intensity in his eyes, their calm baby blue shadecontradicting with the tsunami of foreign emotions his stare dedicated to heronly, and Betty felt herself losing any sense of her surroundings under suchearth-shattering connection.

“Well, I’ve never saw anyone shut Reginald Mantle Jr. up in a merematter of seconds and with such excessive vocabulary. Impressive, truly.”  She heard his voice for the first time,directing her fully as if no one else was occupying the planet but her, and shefelt her insides clench at its thick tone, soothing yet husky enough to painther fantasies of him with even more appraising colors, and his stare that heldsomething new, something that she had never experienced before in anyinteraction with the opposite sex. She was sure her cheeks were instantlyvibrant red. And his lips trembled in a tiny smirk because he noticed.

He then turned to his friends, shifting subtly to become a human barrierbetween them and the timid looking girl. “And I thought you, dickheads,” the offensive word wascolored with a mild annoyance along with the usual endearment such insults heldin the bro word “knew how to treat a lady.” His tone was castigating and hisposture tall and imposing but Betty never felt threatened by it, only stronglycared for and protected. Faint murmurs echoed to her left and she dared to peekat the boys next to her, seeing them, to her amazement, drop their heads to theground in remorse and uneasiness. Her speculations that he was the alpha of thegroup were correct and the blonde girl felt a strange heat ignite at the depthsof her, up until now, dull existence.

“We lack some sunshine here at the Southside. It’s a shame if we pushher away.” He offered her a sexy boyish smirk, thick raven waves playing hideand seek with his mischievous eyes and Betty almost lost her footing, meltedright there on the dirty playground, as she felt a trembling sigh puffing herchest in girly delight.

“C’mere.” He nodded towards his direction, adorably sweet if she dared sayso, jerking his head to the side and effectively pushing his hair out of hiseyes.  “I’ll walk you to the bridge.” Heoffered, staring down at her intensely again.

Betty’s cheeks heated up once more and her fingertips went numb fromnervous excitement. “It’s fine, I’ll—” she stuttered lamely but he cut her off.

“I promise I’m not a serial killer.” There was evident teasing in histone, her looking at him like a cute deer caught in the headlights that amusedhim to no end. “Plus, I don’t bite.” He went on cockily, straightening up hisboard shoulders. “Not without permission at least.” There was a wink again, oneof those completely sinful ones that only he could master, and Betty’s will toobject vanished in a heartbeat at the innuendo, jelly legs shyly brining her tohis side like she was compelled.

He gave her a full smile this time, a pleased one that she reciprocatedwith a tiny smirk, and made a grand gesture with his arms for her to go firstin gentlemanly politeness, the blonde infatuated girl nudging her cheek againstthe denim of her shoulder to hide her raging blush, biting her lip to preventher giddy smile from spreading widely on her face. There were some faintwhistles of appreciation and teasing from the other males, him flicking thestub of his cigarette towards their direction in fake warning mixed withswaggering pride, and Betty would have been uneasy under the attention, if itwasn’t for his hand landing respectfully between her shoulder blades, givingher a gentle push. His large palm sent shivers down her spine, despite thelayers of clothing, and Betty was sure she was going to die at some point downtheir small walk to the bridge.  

There were some minutes of silence filled with only the sounds of naturearound them, Betty making her pace a little slower than usual on purpose,wanting to prolong the unexpected encounter and the delicious tightness in herchest, and him falling into a lazy pace next to her, shoving his bony fingerscasually into the pockets of his ripped skinny jeans. She was observing theirfootwear as she was trying to control her raging heart and sweaty palms, whitesneakers contradicting with black leather boots, her round green eyesappreciating his long strides opposite her multiple small steps. Withoutactually thinking, she spoke up.

“You know, I don’t really go around acting like a bitch.” Betty for somereason wanted to clarify. “Or having late night strolls with strangers for thatmatter.” She went on cleverly, letting her eyes run up his lean physic to landon his handsome profile, her heart skipping a beat at the pretty smirk he wassporting.

“Figured.” He shrugged casually. “You’re practically oozing good girlcharm.” The words rolled around a teasing grin that got wider as he heard herscoff, his eyes playfully catching hers and making her swing lightly on herheels at the contact. “But you should, if the effect is that spectacular.” Heturned back in front, getting serious and almost tired as he continued. “Somepeople need a reminder to shut up; their idiocy is killing me day by day.” Hesighed.

Betty frowned, a silly grimace of confusion wrinkling her stunningfeatures. “You realize that we’re talking about one of your friends, right?”she huffed amused.

He chuckled with no sound, shaking his head. “Reggie is a good guy, allof them are. And I love him as a brother; we are brothers in every sense of the word.” There was a softer tonein his voice, an undeniable affection, and Betty caught herself smiling atthat. “So” he trailed off, offering her a jaunty side glance, “that gives meall the more right to call him out on the fact that he lacks courtesy and sufficientbrain cells.” His sardonic remark surprised her and she let a rather loudgiggle, him sending her a charming smile that caused her to bite her lip againat the way her stomach dropped in newfound desire, the blue shade of his eyesdarkening a tad at her reaction. Silence fell between them again, both snappingtheir heads down and in front to avoid the contact, the magnetic pull andsexual tension between them way too much to handle.

“And it’s Jones, Jughead Jones.” He suddenly exclaimed, gaining herattention back effectively. “In case you didn’t want us to be strangersanymore.” The raven haired boy offered in all his self-conscious glory, earninga raised eyebrow in return.

“Jughead?” Betty wondered incredulouslyabout the absurd nickname.

“Trust me, the real one is wayworse.” He snorted loudly. “My parents hate me; it’s strongly established sinceday one.”

“Well, it’s unique.” She shrugged a shoulder, secretly liking how itrolled over her tongue and matched his unique aura. “Cue in here my own boringname—” she sighed in exasperation but she didn’t get the chance to introduceherself.

“Betty Cooper. I know.” The boyish smile that he wholeheartedly sent herway, pleased and even shy, was all it took for the girl to completely gospiraling to another universe filled with sparkly love hearts and cupid arrows.

Luckily, self-preservation was still a thing at the back of her numbbrain. “Are you stalking me or something?” she grimaced in panic and horror.

Jughead laughed lightly at how adorable she looked, a reaction sobizarre in coordination with his dark parade looks. “Contrary to popularbelief, the fact that I belong in a sovereign motorcycle club doesn’t make menecessarily a pervert.” He reminded her cleverly, raising both his eyebrows.

She bit her lip again,embarrassed this time. “I’m sorry.” She murmured guiltily.

He momentarily focused his eyes on her trapped rosy lip; he just couldn’tresist. “It’s fine.” He sighed a little out of this world before shaking hishead to snap out of the hormonal reverie the preppy blonde seemed to drown himinto with just a simple lip bite.

“You’re a teacher down at our elementary school.” His tone turned aloofagain, him falling a step behind her to catch a scrunched soda can with thesole of his boot, kicking it idly back and forth between his feet while walking.“People on the Southside talk too,you know. Leggy blonde princess joyfully bouncing around in our underworld?That’s not a sight we enjoy every day.” Jughead informed her ingeniously, blueorbs momentarily enjoying the view of her killer legs in front of him andnaughty smirk curling his lips as he dropped them back to the rolling aluminum againsthis feet.

“You mean gossip.” She spatthe word with venom, twirling graciously along with the hem of her blue skirtto face him, Jughead appreciating the action and enjoying the way she took somebouncing steps backwards, high ponytail swinging in a silly fashion, before thetip of her sneaker kicked his shoe, stealing control of the useless can. Hehuffed at the challenge. “The perks of living in an awfully small town, I guess…”She kicked the soda can with venom, sending it flying against the tire of anold Suzuki with a shrieking sound that imitated the scream of frustration hertone was hiding, before regaining hold of it. “And I’m not a teacher; I’m justvolunteering.” She passed him their makeshift ball with a tiny flirty smile.

“Good.” He nodded once, fighting to smile back at her while doing sometricks with his right foot. “Cause I was seriously enraged that our teachers atSouthside High look nothing like you.” Those impish baby blues was on heragain, a single curly strand of hair falling effortlessly over them and Bettygiddily squirmed under his stare and the sexual undertone of his words.

“Damn, those first graders are lucky.” He sighed deeply, completelyinfatuated, and she suddenly felt his hot breath next to her ear, creatinggoosebumps against her skin, as he teasingly maneuvered his body in front ofher, pretending that her shapely legs were a tantalizing soccer goal beforekicking the can in between them, successfully scoring with a naughty grin. Theaction surprised her and she stumbled over his combat boots, hands flying offher sides in reflex and landing on his hard chest over the soft material of hisdark blue flannel in an attempt not to fall face first on the asphalt. What shecame face to face was a pair of piercing eyes, long gone their playfulness, andtwo wet, chapped lips, parted and exhaling once heavily at the impact, his ownhand reaching under her bomber jacket, gripping her hipbone to steady her,thump lightly grazing the soft skin her cropped cheerleading shirt leftuncovered. He smelled of nicotine and heady cologne, a scent that she now cravedon her bedsheets, and she of sensuous jasmine and fruit gums that had himurging to taste, drink greedily until there wasn’t a hint left on her bubblegumlips. Her Bambi eyes were round against his hazy ones that dropped instantly toher mouth, driven by some spell that was pulling him in, closer and closer,dizzy by the way she trembled against him and the tip of her tongue that cameto highlight the shimmery lip gloss that all this time was titillating hismind. His lips ghosted over hers, her eyelashes fluttered close, both theirhearts started thudding violently. But a dog barked loudly in the distance andstartled them, bodies jumping in fright and breaking their amorous bonds, amoment of magic forever lost.

Jughead was the first one to take a step back, giving her space, herface and heart dropping in disappointment.

“What grade are you in?” she blurted still light-headed, cursing herselfand biting the inside of her cheek instantly at her dumb word vomit, her stillnon-functioning and always weird brain picking that question instead of something more interesting or suitable tosay. Damn her and her inability to flirt like a normal human being.  

He sighed, disappointed and frustrated at the interruption too, butletting a breathy chuckle at the odd question. “Senior.” He fell back next toher, both resuming their walk, thankful for the light breeze that helped toease their pumping veins. “And hopefully next year I’ll be somewhere far, faraway.” He wished in longing, taking a deep breath, trying to taste what freedommust feel like.

“I thought you belonged in a sovereign motorcycle club.” Betty quoted himcheekily, earning a half side smirk in amusement from him. “That sounds like amapped up fate to me.” She pointed out with a hint of genuine concern.

“I guess I’m weird.” He shrugged casually. “And I have layers.” Headded, somehow vulnerable, focused on his combat boots. “Most people our age inthis lovely, quaint little town, either north or south, are interested inbooze, weed and sex. Well, my only vice is those bad guys.” He took a pack ofred Marlboro out of the pocket of his jacket with a smirk, retrieving acigarette and shoving the packet back in its place before unburying a metalliclighter, his initials and a snake craved on the side.

“Sucks to live here, right?” she watched as he flipped the lid expertlyand flame erupted, lighting the tip of the rolled tobacco, him inhaling astrong drug of poison that made his Adam’s apple bop. Betty gulped at thesight, chest deflating in a hot and bothered fashion.

“Understatement of the year.” Jughead mused in a snarky manor, voice atad raspier as he exhaled a cloud of smoke while licking his bitter lips. Bettyfelt a tingling sensation low in her belly, even though she knew there wasnothing attractive in cigarette reeking guys. Somehow he managed to make eventhat sexy, her mind instantly creating fantasies of him bare-chested, blowingcircles of smoke against her own open mouth.

“Our very own Great Wall restricts me from going any further.” His wordsand abrupt halt of his long limbs next to her snapped her back to reality,Betty blinking a few times to regain consciousness, upon stopping along himright at the start of Sweetwater Bridge, the human structure over the wateryboarder between their town’s rival sides.

“We don’t bite either, you know.” She fidgeted with the hem of herjacket, using his words from before and raising her eyes to witness hisreaction at her idle attempt to flirt.

He chuckled, bringing the cigarette to his lips. He inhaled, locking hiseyes on hers, before exhaling, blue orbs turning sly and intense once again. “Well,I have a feeling you do.” Sexy and mysterious, he managed to fuel the red onher cheeks and the tingles in her chest, a view that he rather enjoyed.  “Have a good night and stay away from trouble,alright slugger?” Teasingly, he pointed a warning finger at her.

Betty snorted a giggle, voice soft and sweet when she spoke again. “Goodnight.Thanks for walking me here.” She offered him a wide, dashing smile that gluedhim in place, unable to move, unable to think straight, blinded by the etherealbeauty of the girl in front of him. She ducked her head shyly under his gazeand started to walk away, internally squalling at the plot twist in heruneventful teenage life.

“Hey, Cooper!” His loud voice made her stop and turn back once again,preppy ponytail bouncing in anticipation just like her heart. “Save me anothersmile next time you see me, okay?” Jughead offered her his most gorgeous boyishsmile, laughing eyes, dimples and all, and now it was her time to stay stunned,altering her weight from one foot to the other in girly fashion, as he turnedto head his way with another one of his winks, leaving her staring with rosycheeks and a speeding heart.

The beeping of her phone made her jump, anxious fingers digging in herbag in fear that she was terribly late and the whole North was heading overwith torches and pitchforks led by her parents in an avenging mission.Hopefully, she audibly breathed in relief as a new message from Pollybrightened her screen, her sister’s words bringing back a dumbfounded smile onher lips.

Well, you never know. Give him a chance; he mightsurprise you. 😉

“They are Serpents, snakes.And their place is at the south side slithering in the muddy waters of theirswamp not mingling with us, infecting the town we built from scratch! You knowwhat? They should be thanking us for letting them lurk around our territories.But they are on borrowed time and now it’s our chance to cut off the head ofthose venomous, disgusting reptiles!”

Betty frowned upon pushing open the glass door of Pop’s diner andspotting her far from beloved ex-boyfriend and captain of the football team,Chuck Clayton, in a heated monologue, surrounded by other jocks that looked athim like he was some kind of savior or messiah. Next to the table they occupied,her friends were enjoying dinner and some shakes in their usual booth by thewindow, murmuring what was clear frustration about the aggravated jock. Bettycasually made her way over, avoiding on purpose Chuck’s eyes that rose uponspotting her walk by, and she slid graciously on the empty leather seat next toKevin.

“What is he going on about?” she whispered boringly, dropping herbackpack to the floor and stealing a fry from the plate in the middle, chewinglazily and leaning back more comfortably while resting a leg over Kevin’sthigh, the boy patting her knee in greeting and sympathy that she had brieflydated someone so self-centered and awfully arrogant.

“The Serpents, as always.” Veronica, from the window seat across her,legs on Archie’s lap and arms curled around his neck, whispered back with aneye roll, the redhead nodding once in annoyance too. “Seriously, Chuck” sheturned to the guy on the other table, annoyed “can you take the testosteronedown a notch? We are not intimidated by it, we are not interested in it. Just stop.” The brunette colored the wordwith a fed up huff, closing her eyes to indicate how tired she was of hisprivileged bullshit.

“Just go back to sucking face with Andrews, alright VeLo?” Chucknarrowed his eyes in fake politeness, Archie straightening up inside her embracein defense, earning a soothing pat on his chest by his girlfriend. “Let ushandle the mature stuff as we know best.” The boy went on dead serious, sendinga glance at Betty who scoffed and turned away.

“Yes, of course, bitching and moaning like a spoiled little school girlfor over half an hour is really mature, Chuck, great job.” To Kevin’s otherside, Cheryl deadpanned while focused on polishing her nails a vibrant red,sending the people around her table in a fit of light giggles that the jocksacross them completely ignored, getting back to their heated conversation.

“This is riveting to watch.” Kevin exclaimed in his usual thrilledvoice, eyes sparkling in excitement. “We are the protagonists of Riverdale’smost vexed debate since 1972; should the north side and the south side beunified? Guys, we are making history!” He squeezed Betty’s thigh as he squealedin delight, his best friend smiling fondly at his over-jubilant reaction.

“Kevin” she giggled, patting his hand on her thigh “they are just goingto attend our school for a month. And only the seniors. I highly doubt thatthis is going to change Riverdale’s entire viewpoint overnight.” The blondespoke softly, like giving a life lesson to a five year old, and the alwayscoiffured on point teenager pouted, before turning back to the others.

“Still something is changing.” He insisted, Betty scoffing in amusementnext to him. “Even if it is just the eye candy around campus.” He faced heragain with his laughing eyes and a sweet grin, making it impossible for her andthe rest of his friends not to chuckle at his bright personality.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day for the town of Riverdale. The seniorstudents of Southside High were going to start attending Riverdale High for thetimespan of a month, after a serious incident with their school’s centuries oldcentral heating that resulted to broken water pipes and flooding classrooms. Upuntil the problem was going to be fixed, mayor McCoy had agreed to the studentstransferring to Riverdale high school, a decision that rose heated controversyamongst the residents of the North.

“Things are not looking very good, guys.” The atmosphere around thetable shifted, as Archie untangled himself from Veronica to lean forward andinform them secretly. “Locker room talk has gone to another level and withChuck practically urging every Bulldog on a vigilante mission I’m not sure everythingis going to run as smoothly as the school board thinks.” The boy shared hisconcerns.

“They are not here to cause problems.” Betty voiced with certainty. “I’vebeen to the South over three months now and everyone is just normal, you know,they are normal people.” Her eyes darted over each one of her friends thatdidn’t look very convinced. “Nice, even.” She threw in exasperation, a certaindark haired guy popping immediately in her mind. To her disappointment, shehadn’t seen much of him after that night, only catching his lean posturebriefly as he dropped by the elementary school to pick up his sister, too muchin a haze for them to even lock eyes through the window. Betty was back to herpessimistic usual self, regarding boys and their lack of attraction towardsher, and for some reason this time it hurt a tad more. It didn’t help that herdaydreams of him were now actual dreams too, heated and intimate, leaving herpanting and in a mess of sweat along with damp lace between her legs eachmorning she would wake up with the thought of him, her fingers tracing her fulllips where she could still feel his sensuous breath from that night that he had sether perfect good girl world in flames with just a brush of his intoxicatingnicotine stained ones.

At the exact moment, the bell over the entrance chimed and everyone’seyes rose in curiosity. All conversations stopped, the atmosphere became eerieand cold. Five young Serpents, the five ones Betty had seen multiple timesduring her volunteering hours, were sauntering menacingly inside the smalldinner, leather jackets shinny under the bright neon lights. They looked angry,threatening, and they were headingtheir way with matching heavy steps and stone cold eyes.

“You were saying?” Kevin murmured in panic next to her but Betty tunedhim out, as everything else around her, around him.

Jughead was at the center of the small squad but this wasn’t thehandsome guy she was fawning over from afar nor the charming boy that made herfeel weak in the knees that single night he almost brushed his lips over herinviting ones. His appearance was disheveled, hair not its usual perfectlyimperfect mess but greasy and dirty, the black S t-shirt he had on ripped andbloody under his Serpent jacket with what seemed like oil and asphalt stains onit, his dark jeans dusty and with a hole on his left knee revealing a big,nasty wound that continued hidden up his thigh. His hands were bawled in tight fistson his sides, knuckles bloody red, and his jaw was set, painfully wrinkled likehe was holding back a threatening to explode volcano, his face stone cold andlittered with a couple of scratches on his left cheek and temple, a bloody cuton his lower lip, a mauve bruise peaking under some sweaty dark waves on hisforehead. What had her turning anxious though, terrified even, was his lifelesseyes, their soothing blue shade vanished and their clever glint traded forsomething else, something darker, that promised war and revenge. Bettyshivered; she didn’t know him, their brief encounter was not enough for her toshape an accurate opinion for his character, but deep down she always thoughtthat under his dark exterior he was hiding a golden soul. Now, that his hostileorbs didn’t even spare her a glance but stayed set on the buffed varsitycaptain, she wasn’t so sure.

“Do you consider yourself a clever guy, Clayton?” the Serpents’ leader growledlow in his throat, standing tall and tense next to the seated boy that ignoredhim, draping casually an arm over the back of his booth.

“That’s not even a question.” Chuck offered him a cocky smirk, winkingat some other jocks across him who chuckled at how pathetic those Serpentswere.

“Yes, you are right.” Jughead let a humorless chuckle, clenching andunclenching his jaw and trying to control his trembling hands.  “Because there are not two options, just plainno.” he leaned forward, palms flat on the table to spat to his face with venom.“You are a fucking brainless son of bitch that doesn’t even have the decency toman up and admit of his actions.” His voice was controlled, steady, and thatmade his tone even more deadly, Betty fidgeting with her key necklace nervouslybehind them.

Her ex sprung to his feet, growling inches away from the raven hairedboy’s fuming face. “Watch how you talk about me, snake.” He narrowed his eyes and Jughead mimicked him with hatred,both panting angrily like two bulls ready for a face off.

“Did you or did you not pick at the brakes of my bike?” The angrySerpent punctuated every single word sternly, between pants and heavy breaths,really trying to control the boiling lava in his chest. Everyone around themwas holding their breaths, Betty sharing a nervous side glance with Archie.

“Welcome to the neighborhood, pal.” Chuck chuckled darkly and the blondegirl gasped, her mind not being able to even grasp how he could do somethinglike that. She always knew he was an asshole but never imagined he would stoopto that level. Betty’s green orbs darkened with rage too.

Jughead huffed, closing his eyes and trying not to lose it, animpossible task since all he could see was red. “I will fucking crash you” he spat murderously “I promise you, this is thelast time you get to joke around with your buddies while playing with any ofour lives.” His voice reached a higher octave, sealing his promise with agravely look and turning to walk away, not trusting himself with beingcivilized anymore and hating indulging into any form of violence.

“Guess I should have cut those breaks off completely.” He heard behindhim Chuck and his teammates erupt in loud laughter, some hi-fiving their leaderin delight.

Jughead stopped dead in his tracks and huffed in fuming rage, lickinghis lips slowly, teeth itching to draw blood. In one swift movement, Chuckcollided with the wall with a loud and painful thud that had the other Bulldogsspring to their feet and the rest of the Serpents lashing forward in warning,both sides ready to assist their leaders, Jughead’s hands fisting the otherboy’s letterman jacket and his irate face being inches away from his as he spatwith venom.

“You may not give a damn about me and, trust me, the feeling is mutual”his eyes were seeking to burn him alive under their furious stare “but rightnow there’s a terrified eleven year old, banished from your precious expensivehospital and with an ugly cast around her throat, that could have been killedinstantly if her head landed a few inches closer to the pavement.” Veronica andCheryl gasped in horror, Kevin brought a hand to his mouth in shock andArchie’s murmured “Jesus, Chuck” wasin utter disgust. Betty could feel her chest tightening, her lips in a thin lineas she was shooting daggers to the prick she used to call her boyfriend, nailsurging to pierce the skin of her palms in frustration and then claw his eyesout with her bloody fingers.  “So, shoveyour cocky remarks up your ass and don’t push me today or, so help me God, I willend your football career in a fucking blink.” His wrath was lethal, the boneson his jawline flexing in a way that screamed danger and Chuck had hopefullythe good sense just to shove him hard backwards, freeing himself.

“Go back to mud, Jones.” He yelled and nodded towards the door. “Otherwise,this is only the beginning.”

Jughead’s trembling fingers took hold of a beer bottle from the jocks’table. The glass crashed against the wall violently, inches away from thequarterback’s face who ducked expertly to avoid it, the teens around themletting a panicky shriek at the cracking sound.

“Hey!” Pop emerged from the kitchen, before things would escaladefurther. “If you wanna resolve your differences, you do it out of my shop. Orelse I’m calling the police.” The elder man warned, far from his usualkind-hearted demeanor, and Jughead raised his arms in surrender, beforestriding in angry swagger out of the diner, his gang members following behindhim while throwing deadly looks to the Bulldogs that started barking inhostility.

Betty didn’t even think twice as she flew out of the booth and stompeddetermined behind them, completely ignoring the confused looks from herclassmates.

“Wait!” she shouted once outside, ankle boots clicking stubbornly andsparkly eyes trained upon the back of Jughead’s head, his raven waves fallingto the side as he turned sharply at her loud call. He frowned at her, deeplines painting the middle of his forehead but stilled his movements, giving anod to his friends to go ahead without him. They complied, sending some weirdlooks to the blonde that came to a halt in front of their leader, before movingfurther away to wait for him next to their bikes.

“Chuck is the asshole.” She spoke in fury, her own fists now clenched ather sides. “Why are you the one leaving?” she demanded, tilting her chin up,fed up with how unfair the situation was.

Jughead huffed in fake amusement at her silly words, looking over herhead where her friends and his rivals were watching them closely through thediner’s windows. “I’m not welcomed here. Nor will I ever find my right heretoo.” He made a face in clever arrogance.

Betty’s gaze dropped to his appearance, concern coloring her voice. “Isyour sister okay? Do you need help?”

“Thanks, but we had enough of all of you.” The guy offered in bittersarcasm.

“You’re hurt too.” She pointed out with a heavy heart, the pads of herfingertips instinctively touching the corner of his mouth next to the deepwound there.

Jughead was taken aback by the move, his own hand grabbing her wrist inreflex, a little more forcefully than intended, not being familiar withaltruistic gestures of affection. His rough action caused her to stumbleforward, letting an audible gasp of shock at the close proximity and the heatradiating from his hard body and tempered mood. Betty felt electricity shootingthrough her veins as their eyes connected for the first time, his stormy andhers gentle, and her lips parted on their own accord, driven by the force thatwas always there between them. From up close she could see clearly the resultsof the accident, not only the physical ones but the ones imprinted in his soul,his terrified agony about his sister, his guilt that if something would havehappened to her it was all his fault. A sigh trembled against her lips, warminghis nicotine laced ones.

He wanted to kiss her again, even more than he did that night that sheinvaded his world of darkness and highlighted it with splashes of lush golden. Buthe was angry at the world they were living in, at the assholes of her kind, atthe assholes of his, at his own self, at her, at her crystal clear eyes thathad the ability to pierce right through his tortured soul. He couldn’t handlethe intensity of the moment so he took a step back, dropping her arm as violentlyas he had taken hold of it. It fell numbly to her side, the girl blinkingrapidly to regain her calm and steady her ferociously beating heart.

“I can manage.” He replied coldly, the small patch of skin that brieflystayed under the softness of her fingertips still burning.

Betty curled her arms over her chest, trying to hold her body fromshaking under the force of his presence, before whispering in horror. “What hedid is attempted homicide. You should go to the police.” She advised him seriously,eyes pleading and voice almost breaking at the weight of her words and the whatif behind them.

“Right…” Jughead scoffed, running his fingers through his hair. “And whodo you think objective and unprejudiced Sheriff Keller will believe?”his tone and choice of adjectives oozed dark sarcasm, eyes narrowing venomouslyupon continuing with the hard truth.  “Thelost cause of a guy from the wrong side of the tracks or your precious goldenboy? Hm? Answer me.” He challenged, board shoulders hunched in a desperatemanor as he towered over her, moving some threatening inches closer again, amix of desire and anger making him want to push her to the nearest wall andravish her in the roughest of ways.

Betty’s strong will wavered under his imposing posture, eyes dropping tothe small distance between them and the bloody stains of his t-shirt, a sightrembling on her lips at the way he was invading her personal space andconquering more and more ground. “You are not a lost cause.” She breathed in a steadfastwhisper. “You have witnesses, I can come with too, I’m sure my friends will alsoagree to help—” she started brainstorming but he cut her off, his bony, bloodand mud stained fingers grabbing a strong hold of the soft cashmere sweater onher shoulders, leaving a mark to contradict its white purity.

“I am not one of those polished, preppy boys you hang out with, youunderstand that?” Jughead raised his voice, highlighting the words with enoughrage that shocked her, her body shaking like a rug doll under his grip. “I’m abad guy and bad guys deal with their businesses on their own, the way they wereraised with.” He spoke inches away from her lips and Betty could almost tastethe bitterness in her own mouth, her eyes filling with fat, sullen tears at thecoldness of his tone and the pools of blue that felt icier than ever. He shouldhave felt bad at being responsible for shadowing the most beautiful pair ofeyes he had ever seen in his life, and a part of him did broke at the sight, but he wouldn’tshow it, he couldn’t get attached. Dark necessities were part of his design,she wouldn’t understand. “So save me your good girl musings and let me be. Goback to your pastel world, Cooper. This is reality.”

And with that he was gone, Betty stumbling back as he freed her from himwith force, watching him behind a blurry cloud of tears while he hopped onReggie’s bike without sparing her a second glance. The engine accelerated witha roar, a roar that matched the painfully breaking of her heart and Bettyremembered why she didn’t believe in fairytales after all.

Did you hear?

Those Serpents are dangerous!

Something happened yesterday at Pop’s.

I bet they started it.

Chuck didn’t say a word.

Clayton almost killed him.

Maybe that Serpent was worth it.

Maybe we all need to stop.

“Small town likes its drama, huh?” Veronica hummed around her paper cupof her coffee, pushing the passenger door of Betty’s white Mini Cooper closedwith her hip, and taking a seat on its shinny hood as her best friend gatheredher school stuff for the day. The city girl, even though living in Riverdalefor two years now, couldn’t still get used to this mentality of petty gossipand ugly prying, her chocolate eyes watching in disgust the teens around hergathered in small circles, being all hush-hush and curiously looking her andBetty’s way.

“Ignore them, it never goes away.” The blonde sighed, locking herparents’ early gift for her seventeenth birthday, and coming over to join herwhile perching her backpack on her shoulder. She knew the incident at Pop’syesterday would be front page material for their school community; there wasnothing new about that and she didn’t care. Not when she still had a heavyheart and an ugly knot in her chest caused by the Serpent’s stone cold eyesthat haunted her.

“Are you okay, B?” her best friend asked in concern, perfect eyebrowsknitting together.

“Yeah, yeah, just tired. Stayed up late for a history paper.” She liedexpertly, plastering a fake smile on her glossy lips.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Veronica Lodge isnever judgy.” she went on playing indifference and taking another sip of herlatte. “Not when it comes to hot boys, at least…” she sent her a glare over herbrown cup.

Betty just raised an eyebrow, faking ignorance.

“Oh don’t play dumb with me, Betty Cooper.” Veronica scolded her with aswat of her perfect manicured fingers. “That smokeshow of a Serpent, the darkhaired, Holden Caulfield one…” she nudged the side of her calf with the tip ofher designer heel, giggling around the words in girly delight. “Come on B, Isaw the way you two were looking at each other. Or should I say practicallyundressing each other?” she smirked naughtily.

“That’s nothing!” Betty’s signature blush colored her whole face and thebrunette gasped in excitement, ready for more juicy details. “That’s—” she wenton to clarify that nothing had happened between them but her eyes caught Kevinand Cheryl practically sprinting to join them, both flustered, and she grabbedVeronica’s arm in alarm. “Don’t say anything just—hey, guys!” she chipped incheerfully, relieved that the other girl got the message and turned to greetthem too with a happy smile.

However, none of them was interested in polite pleasantries. “They arecoming.” Kevin said with difficulty, panting like he had ran a marathon withCheryl next to him nodding vigorously with wide, intrigued eyes. Betty frownedin confusion. “With bikes and leather, emerging from a cloud of gas smoke.They. Are. Coming.” He pointed out every word with fascination, grabbing hisfriend by the shoulders and turning her suddenly to the direction of theschool’s driveway right on time as loud motorcycle engines could be heardapproaching.

It was like those slow motion scenes in action movies. Amongst grey gassmoke, five beasty motorcycles in a triangle formation shined under the gloomymorning glow, their black color polished and threatening imposing and theirsilver details on the sides glistering like sharp blades of lethal weapons. Thefive riders were hidden behind black futuristic helmets that gave them an airof mysterious danger, all of them dark, brash, like avenging fallen angels inall their black attire glory and their matching snake jackets as a proud war symbolover their muscular shoulders. Only one was standing out from the others, thefirst one at the top of their pyramid, as a bloody red plaid shirt was hangingfrom his hips, swaying like a red flag against the wind provocatively. Evenwithout it, Betty knew that behind the helmet it was him, guiding his people to the path of victory.

Everyone was looking at the spectacular show mesmerized, like time hadstopped and all hell had broken lose, sending its devils on hot wheels to giveanother meaning to the definition of sin. Three of the bikes speeded in frontdoing an impressive wheelie whereas the other two, Jughead’s and the one on itsright that Betty guessed it was Reggie’s, drove in a deadly circle before theystarted drifting around each other, creating a heavy cloud of smoke and aroaring commotion of complaining engines, tires getting burnt against theasphalt with chill rising squealing. Kevin let a breathy yes of excitement, whereas the girls around him simultaneouslydropped their heads to the left, mouths agape, lightheaded and shocked by theshow. The two motorbikes came to an abrupt, violent but controlled halt thatmade Betty jump out of her sexual haze, as Jughead, still on the bike, took offhis helmet and shook his dark mane in manly fashion, before running a handcovered with a fingerless leather glove over his hair, trying to soothe backhis messy waves. Betty caught herself biting her lip, too hooked and turned onto even blink, her anger and disappointment at him and his tone last nightmagically vanishing.

“Well, hello Mr. Ride Me Good.” Cheryl’s sultry purr made Betty snap outof her daze and squirm awkwardly on her place, toying with her key necklace andtrying to control her heating body and raging hormones. Something that Cheryldidn’t even bother with, since she was openly eye-sexing the Serpent leader, afiery red lock getting twirled around her manicured fingers and a sly smirkcurling her matching full lips.

“Damn, this bad boy got moves, right B?” Veronica mused, dragging hereyes from the guy in question to land them teasingly on her best friend. Bettyjust gulped, green orbs practically glued on him, as he manly high-fived Reggieand hopped off his bike, draping a brown messenger bag over his shoulder.  

“Down, girl.” Cheryl demanded, throwing a side glance to the brunettebehind her. “You can look at the menu all you want but you have your own gingerstallion to ride to oblivion.” She scolded her and Veronica gasped a chuckle infake offence. “This black tiger is mine.”

Betty felt a hint of jealously at the comment but it didn’t last long asshe got distracted again by the guy at the front of the Serpent squad that wasnow making its way to the school entrance. Walking with a sex-oozingconfidence, red flannel swinging on his sides, shoulders rolled back proudly,raven locks over his eyes and the marks of yesterday’s accident still evidenton his face like battle scars, he turned swiftly to the side and connected hiseyes with hers, soothing blue this time and cleverly agile just like she liked,sending her one of his charming winks that she had terribly missed, beforeturning his attention back to his friends and disappearing inside the building.

“Elizabeth Anne Cooper, didyou see that?!” Kevin’s elated gasp next to her ear startled her, the boyshaking her arm in glee at the promiscuous interaction he had just witnessed,his female friend trying to calm her dizzy head and fluttering heart.

“That’s unfair!” Cheryl exclaimed loudly. “How is Betty always stealingthe good ones?” she turned to face them, hands thrown in exasperation. “Minus,Chuck; Chuck is a mega asshole.” She went to clarify with a bitchy shrug.

Kevin came to stand next to her, placing a finger on his chin in thoughwhile examining the blonde. “The good girl vibe? The doe eyes? The shy in thestreets, sexy in the sheets smile maybe?” He listed in a thrilled tone ofvoice, spending suspense around the idea of solving the riddle that was BettyCooper.

The girl in question rolled her eyes, letting a breathy chuckle. “He isjust a cocky gang member. I’m sure he meant nothing by it.” She shrugged likeshe didn’t care at all, even though she could practically feel her bloodpumping in her veins fueled by adrenaline. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, some ofus have an honor roll academic career that would like to maintain.” She threwin a fake stuck-up tone, teasing them and offering them a cute pretentiousgirly wave before turning to drag her feet lazily to Biology class.

“Low blow, Cooper!” Betty heard Cheryl shout from behind her. “Add tenmore squats for you on today’s cheerleading practice!” she turned and took hertongue out at her, laughing when she saw the redhead giving her the fingerbefore giggling too.

Betty’s happy smile stayed on her lips until she reached her first classof the day. Barely taking two steps inside, her palms became sweaty again asshe spotted Jughead and three of his friends at the back of the classroom,childishly playing with the skeleton model at the corner, ignoring the staresfrom the rest of the students around them. Betty made it to her seat, aware ofJughead’s eyes on her, but didn’t raise her head to acknowledge him, notwanting to appear like a girl that could turn into putty with just one of hissilly boyish games. Even though she totally was.

The teacher came soon after, students scrambled around to get to theirseats, and a pack of red Marlboro dropped on her desk and startled her, Bettysnapping her head up in question and catching him smirking at her whiledropping on an empty desk further to her left. She raised an eyebrow,delicately taking hold of the empty packet and bringing her hands to rest onher lap to shield the unexpected gift from any prying eyes. On the lid “open me” was written in black neathandwriting that surprised her and Betty did so intrigued, only to find a smallpiece of paper and a single cigarette. Unfolding the paper, she read:

“I’m sorry about yesterday. Meangry is not a walk in the park. I snapped at you with no reason when all youwanted was to help. I’m an asshole, I know this much. But as I later understood”there was an arrow pointing to the cigarette before the rest of the words were inbrackets “(this lone bad guy in the abyssof the empty packet represents me perfectly and will explain everything betterthan I ever will)” Betty grimaced to hide the smile that was threatening tocurl on her lips at his charismatic self, as her slender fingers pulled out thewhite roll, now littered with black handwriting all around too “I have grown another vice than smoking andthat is pretty blondes with sweet eyes and a sharp tongue. So, for the sake ofmy addicted self, can you offer me the smile you’ve been saving for me?”There was a tiny smiley face at the end and this did it, it brought a big andlovesick smile on her face, Betty biting her lip at his actions and the way he wasmaking her feel. Sure, they would have more to talk about but this was a nicefirst move from his part for reconciliation.

“Oh no, I’m not having you all gathered at one side.” Mrs. Porter’svoice pierced through her ears and Betty focused her eyes up to see what thedeal was about, the teacher talking to the Serpents that were all paired uptogether in one row. “New students mingle with the old ones, I want diversitypairs.”

Betty gathered her stuff and swiftly plopped into the seat next toJughead, the boy looking at her with a surprised smirk.

“What?” she huffed incredulously. “You are an jackass” he bounced hishead back in amusement at her curse word while she shrugged “but I’m forgivingso…” she turned to him and sighed before curling her lips in the most dashing,purely authentic Betty Cooper smile. Jughead nodded in understanding, a faintblush creeping on his cheekbones, taking his pen and writing something on heropened notebook.

What a deadly vice you are, Cooper.

“I’m starting a newspaper.”

Spotless white sneakers slid on the cement ground next to him andJughead smirked as he looked up from his slouching position near earth level. Bendedknees in a low squat and face to face with the silver exhaust pipe of his bike,he was ceremoniously dusting it and checking its condition at the parking lotof Riverdale High at a rather warm morning in the north side of town. However,every ounce of concentration over his task at hand vanished into thin air themoment that specific pair of long, killer legs appeared on his peripheralvision. Betty sex-on-legs Cooper.

“I thought your folks had one.” He addressed her, squinting under therich sunrays that created a halo of golden light around her ethereal beauty.She was leaning at the seat of the bike, the dark leather being complimented bythe porcelain skin of her toned thighs as the hem of her brown skirt had risenfrom its modest place a little under her mid-thigh, her left leg bended by theknee and both of them looking like going for miles from the angle he was openlychecking them out. Involuntarily, he licked his lips around his never fading naughtysmirk.

“I’m not talking about a town newspaper, Juggie.” Betty giggled lightly.“I’m starting a kids’ newspaper, at Southside Elementary.” She clarified,straightening up her shoulders proudly.

“Because…?” he dragged the word in confusion, raising his eyebrowsadorably.

“The children I’m helping are getting better and better at reading andwriting but stale learning is gonna turn boring and ineffective in the longrun. So they need something fun and creative to spike their interest andhopefully improve their literary skills even more.” She was speaking withpassion, loving the idea and loving those kids even more. Jughead couldn’t helpbut form a wide grin at her incredible drive and will to contribute in the bestway she could.

“Sounds good, I guess.” Nodding happily up to her, he saw her biting herlip not to break into the biggest smile in the history of smiles.

“It is. It’s innovative and I’m excited.” Her attempt was a lost battleto begin with and she finally beamed down at him. “I talked to the principal,he agrees and he even told me that maybe this will turn into a monthly schoolthing, if the trial is successful.” She gasped in genuine enthusiasm, wigglingher legs lightly while letting a cute little squeal of triumph.

Jughead chuckled; he couldn’t really help himself. “I’m sure it will.Those menaces practically adore you. And I don’t really blame them.”

He winked at her, she nudged her cheek adorably against her shoulder ingirly shyness, biting back a smile. Two weeks had passed since the Serpents startedattending Riverdale High and those two weeks were the best of both theiracademic years. They were lab partners, book club buddies and writingenthusiasts and every day they were growing closer and closer. They were innickname basis; at least Betty was. And she was always Cooper for him. Bettyhad taken a sudden weird liking in her surname and how couldn’t she? Rollingout of his tongue, it was simultaneously the most sacred and sinful thing shehad ever heard.

“Whatcha working on?” she lightly tapped his knee with the side of hersneaker, him wiping his greasy fingers on the rug he was holding before raisingto his full height, eyes following the route of her smooth legs as he did so.That naughty smirked trembled again on his chapped lips.

“Nothing really.” He sighed, abandoning the dirty rug to the side. “Ikeep hearing those tiny metallic noises, I guess I’ll have to check this beautywith Mongoose over at the garage later.” he informed her casually, Bettyknowing pretty much everything about his world at this point, grabbing hold ofhis bag and his leather jacket that were lying next to her on the sponge seat. Hehad a delicious form-fitting ash grey V neck t-shirt on and Betty actually dida subtly double take of his biceps and hard chest with lustful eyes.

“I can take a look if you want.” She said more focused on his bodymuscles than his face, feeling heat creeping up her already rosy cheeks. Uponmoving her disorientated stare back to his witty blue orbs with difficulty andseeing him sending her an amused questioning glare, she went on to explainmatter-of-factly. “My dad and I fix cars together.”

Jughead grimaced in appreciation, draping his jacket over his shoulderin manly fashion. “I’ve never thought you were a greaser kind of girl.” Hisflirty tone, a tone that he usually used around Betty Cooper, started coloringthe edges of his words again, a lopsided smirk of boyish swagger playing on hislips.

Betty bit her lip, eyes shining in playful banter. “Oh, that’s whenyou’re wrong, Jughead Jones.” She shook her head in amusement. “I’m not afraidto get a little dirty sometimes.” Her voice dropped an octave without herplanning to do so and she instinctively leaned forward, green eyes sending hima faux innocent glare under thick eyelashes.

He stepped closer too, smirk intact and the pads of fingertips brushedever so lightly over the hem of her skirt against her thigh, clearly enjoyingthe view. “I like the skirt today, Cooper.” His eyes connected with hers, theirheavy breaths mingling as she tilted her head up, craving more of his presence,more of his touch.

“Well, I can lend it to you sometime if you want.” Betty teased himcleverly, face deadpanned and head angling as she eyed his lips.

“Funny.” He let a breathy chuckle at her dorkiness, bringing his otherhand to play with the hem of her mustard shirt that had fallen over hershoulder, revealing a burgundy lacey bra strap against her prominent collarbone.“But wearing it is not part of my plan.” His lips were inches away from hers,Betty almost whimpering at the close proximity. “For either of us.” He teasedback in a low voice and the blonde swore her bare thighs clenched involuntarilyat his dark tone and full of promises innuendos in a desperate need to makethat boy hers now more than ever.

She felt the bra strap snap with sound against her sensitive skin. Butit wasn’t by his delicate fingers and suddenly, there was someone else’s breathat the swell of her ear. Betty snapped violently back to reality, literallyjumping on her seat.

“Nice one, Betts. Raunchy.” Chuck appeared out of nowhere with avenomous smirk and mood set for trouble, looking between the two teens thatwere caught in an intimate moment seconds ago. Jughead stiffened against her indefense.

“Get off me, Chuck!” She pushed him away by his shoulder, grimace ofutter disgust in her face. “And don’t call me that.” She warned with fury inher eyes.

“I’m just appreciating the change in wardrobe.” He shrugged in astandoffish manner. “Pink was not really your color.” Curling his arms over hisbuff chest, his coal eyes roamed over her body in a way that always made herfeel uncomfortable.

Betty’s glare at him turned cold as ice. “We both know that you neversaw anything.”

“Well, maybe this is a subtle plea for me to do so this time. I’m alwaysup for it, babe. All you have to do is ask.” The varsity captain exclaimed witha grand hand gesture, relishing in the fake status points his letterman jacketwas offering him.

“This is over, Chuck. I ended it.” The blonde girl pointed out bravely. “Howmany times do I have to remind you that I broke up with you?” she threw to hisface, doe eyes narrowing menacingly and nails digging in the leather of theseat she was resting on, trying to control her anger.

Chuck returned her hostile glare. “Yeah, and look where that decisiongot you.” He whispered, mean and bitter, leaning forward to bring his faceinches away from hers. “Turning into nothing more than a Southside slut.” He spat each word with hatred, the insult at theend accompanied by one of his cold and presumptuous side smirks.

Betty didn’t get the chance to reply. Jughead, that all this time was inthe background engaged in a battle of control with his boiling range, lashedforward, his fist colliding hard with Chuck’s jaw with an audible sound of bonesbreaking. His blasphemous words made him see red, sending the jock flying tothe ground and jumping over him, straddling his abdomen as he started throwingpunch after punch on his face. Betty was screaming for them to stop, peoplewere starting to gather around murmuring and snapping pictures and Archie withReggie rushed through the crowd to get Jughead off the laying boy, only forboth of them to be shoved back angrily by the blinded with rage raven hairedguy as he kept beating the crap out of his rival, crackling bones brutally andteaching him a good lesson for disgracing the perfection that was Betty Cooper.

“Hey! HEY!” the principal’s voice echoed loudly, as he quickly emergeddown the stairs and to the crowd of people in the middle of the parking lot. Grabbingthe Serpent’s shoulder, he detached him violently from Chuck that sprung to hisfeet in a bloody mess. “Mr. Jones, in my office now!” Weatherbee shouted to theboy with the blood stained knuckles and angrily panting chest.

“What?!” Betty snapped, stepping between the principal and the defenderof her honor. “Jughead didn’t do anything wrong! Chuck was the one sexuallyharassing me!” she exclaimed urgently.

“Jones lashed out on me, I was in self-defense.” Chuck hollered, likethe spoilt brat he was.

“Mr. Jones, with me.” The principal insisted.

The disheveled raven haired guy let a dark chuckle, curtly brushing histhump over his lower lip, wiping the blood there. “No need. I’m perfectly awareof the verdict.” He took some smoldering steps backwards, sending anapologizing and sullen glance to Betty, before turning around to walk away withheavy, fuming footsteps.

“Detention for the whole week, Mr. Jones!” the elder man in chargeshouted over his back. “I’ll see you after class.”

“This is ridiculous!” Betty complained in a high-pitched voice. “Chuckis walking around disrespecting girls and you are going to completely ignore itbecause what? He is the coach’s son?” she was starting to get furious herselfnow, demanding equality and justice for the wrongly punished boy.

“Ms. Cooper, I advise you to lower your voice and watch your tone, ifyou don’t want to face the same fate as Mr. Jones.” Weatherbee warned her withstern eyes behind his glasses.

“Brilliant!” the teen huffed. “Should I stay silent while being treatedwith misogyny? Is that what you’re implying here, Mr. Weatherbee?” she narrowedher pretty eyes at him incredulously, always ready to fight for her rights.

The principal sighed, turning to the other party of the argument. “Mr.Clayton, care to explain yourself?”

“I was just pointing out how Betty’s shirt was way too low on hershoulders for school grounds.” Now supplied with some paper towels, her explayed the golden boy card, looking her straight in the eyes. “Can you blame usthen if we get distracted and tempted, sir?” He ended his sexist statement witha cocky smirk and the girl actually lashed forward to attack him with a lowgrowl, only for the principal to block her view.

“That’s enough, Mr. Clayton.” He cut him off, wanting to relieve thetension. “Ms. Cooper, I would like you to put on your jacket or change into adifferent shirt.” He suggested in his authoritative voice again.

“What?! This is absurd!” Betty resented, eyebrows knitted together in apainful frown, hands bawled to her sides in fists and trembling from anger.

“You know we have a policy regarding wardrobe that is offensive orprofane. And any student should respect that policy.” He reprimanded her.

“I’m wearing a mini skirt and you are telling me that a patch of skin aroundmy collarbone along with a bra strap is tantalizing the male popularity?” she almostyelled in disbelief and at how ludicrous all these sounded.

“The length of your skirt is approved by the school’s dress code. Thehint of undergarment is not.” Conservative and narrow-minded, the elder manrecited as if reading straight out of the school’s protocol charter.

“Well, it’s not my fault my male classmates are that stupid to not know thatunder my shirt were actual female breasts, before I came to school sporting avisible bra strap.” Betty deadpanned, holding her ground proudly with fierygreen eyes, sending the students around her in a unified fit of shocked gasps.

“Ms. Cooper!” principal Weatherbee hissed in offence. “Show somemodesty! You either change the shirt or you are gaining detention. For amonth.” He gave her an ultimatum in a strict, warning tone of voice.

“You want me to lose the shirt?” the teen challenged, feeling her handsclench in fists at the curt nod of the man in charge of their school community.“Fine.” She shrugged casually and with one swift movement she crossed her handsat the hem of her shirt, taking it off her body and throwing it to the ground next to the bewildered principal, a wave of camera flashes and disbelievingbuzzing rising around them.

“How’s this for modesty?” Chin up and shoulders rolled back proudly,showing off her bra and her nature that she was supposed to be ashamed for, Betty’sdetermination didn’t faze under Weatherbee’s furious stare or her classmates’murmurs of disapproval and scrutiny.

“Don’t bother showing up here again for a week, Ms. Cooper. You’re suspended.”He shouted in his usual authoritative tone of voice, completely appalled fromthe behavior of one of the school’s star students.

“Oh, I wasn’t planning to. Indulging in a chauvinistic and racistenvironment is something I’m better off.” Grabbing Jughead’s Serpent jacketthat was long forgotten on the ground and throwing it over her topless torsocontemptuously, she grabbed both their bags and followed his trail away fromthe crowd, mentally flicking her middle finger to the narrow-minded mentalitythat was Riverdale.  

Jughead watched as his fingers drummed over the beige plastic incoordination with the torturous ticking of the wall clock over the white board.The book he was pretending to read, even though his favorite, was proving to bea rather unsuccessful form of distraction from the dullness of the emptyclassroom and his still turbulent level of anger. With long limps crossed atthe ankles and sprawled under the desk he occupied at the further back of theroom, the raven haired troublemaker was hiding behind the hard copy of hisbook, thankful that at least Weatherbee was occupying himself with somepaperwork and not holding him under his scrutinizing and accusatory gaze. Thatdidn’t mean he felt less uneasy with the situation; getting detention becauseof an illiterate dumbass like Chuck Clayton was the epitome of wasting time. Thereason behind his outburst though, in the form of a blonde, doe eyed vision,was making him wonder why he wasn’t still there at the hallway breaking a fewmore bones of his in sweet revenge.

Weatherbee announced that he needed some files from his office. Jugheadexhaled the deep breath he was holding as the door closed behind the elder manwith a soft click. However, he once again sucked in a breath when it re-openedand in sneaked no else than Betty Cooper, sporting her most persuasive coyexpression and his own Serpent jacket. His eyes almost rolled at the back ofhis head at the sight.

“I thought I’ve lost that by now.” Sliding up to sit more straight onthe uncomfortable wooden chair, Jughead’s lips formed a sly smile feelingexcitement coil low in his stomach and even an involuntary twitch inside hisskinny jeans. She looked utterly sinful, cheeks rosy and lips prettily pink asalways, her perfect ponytail disheveled and the black leather adorningher tiny form. It was zipped up a little over her breasts, the material curvingdeliciously over her spectacular female anatomy, and it fell over her hips, thehem of her skirt barely visible over his favorite view, those miles-long legs. TheSerpent could feel his mouth going dry instantly, as she approached.

“Well, good for you, I’m a neat freak.” She threw him a cheerful BettyCooper smile and shook an arm in a dorky fashion, her hand buried inside thelong sleeve, making him chuckle lightly. As soon as their eyes connected though,the atmosphere shifted.

“Please tell me you didn’t get detention too.” He raised an eyebrow inquestion, examining her as she rounded the desk to rest at the edge of it,facing him.

“Well, I got it worse.” Betty shrugged matter-of-factly. “I’m suspendedfor a week.”

Jughead huffed in disbelief. “Because of the prick, Clayton?” he wasstarting to get worked up again.

The blonde shook her head, focusing her round eyes on his knuckles,covered in dry blood now, on his lap. “Because Weatherbee wanted me to take offmy shirt, claiming that it was too distracting for my male classmates.” Shegrimaced at the accusation, words coming out in scoffs at how ridiculous thestatement was. “So I did” she shrugged again “and threw it to his face.” a badass smile started creeping at the edge of her lips and she raised her head to face him, feeling her heart flutter at the heated look of appreciation and male intrigue he was giving her.

“Damn, Cooper” he gasped, teeth chewing on his bottom lip “I wish I could have seen that.” Images of her stripping to her bra in the middle of the school parking lot filled his brain and the primal side of his subconcious cursed him from getting caught up with the Clayton crap and missing such spectacular view. But then he struck him that now, at that very moment, she was naked under his jacket, the jacket that he was sure would be soaked in her scent of jasmine and female delicacy, and his fingers gripped the denim material on his thighs to anchor himself and not lash forward in a frenzy to make her his. 

What he couldn’t control was his stare, filled with sexual promises and undertones, that she noticed and blushed prettily under, dropping her eyes shyly to watch her fingers picking at the hem of the leather jacket wrapped around her. Jughead wanted desperately to find out where this natural redness began and where it ended, which parts of her body were scarlet red, rosy, blush and all the rest of the palette of her colors.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me against him.” She went on in a lower voice, changing the subject. “He is a brainlessfuckboy; his insults don’t affect me anymore.” The time when Betty was behaving like a giddy school girl for the attention of the Bulldogs’ captain was long before gone, as well as her tears at his classic bastard behavior during their short-lived fling.

Jughead shrugged, trying to appear aloof and standoffish. “I wasn’t raised to be an idle onlooker. We protect and respect women;it’s a Serpent thing.” It truly was, there was a high morality amongst their clan regarding the protection of women and children.

“No” Betty shook her head, sending him a timid, grateful smile “it’s a Jughead Jones thing.”

“Maybe so.” The smirk that danced over his thin lips was borderline adorable before he turned serious again, blue orbs searching for something on her stunningly beautiful face. “I’m sorry if I scared you.” he finally said this thoughts out loud, his tone of voice turning softer, like the cashmere or silk he was sure always adorned her feminine curves.

Betty’s perfect eyebrows knitted in a heartbreaking fashion, the girl sliding over the desk and closer to him, the side of her calf brushing the side of his knee. “I’m never scared of you.” She promised him truthfully, only admiration and longing intensifying the shade of her green irises. The irises that dropped to his lips, spotting the wound there and worrying about it. “Your scar has opened up.” It was more a whisper of desire than a concerned statement, as she instinctively bent down at him, leaning forward, lips once again inches away from his parted and inviting ones.

“Cooper…” he dragged her surname in a low manly breath, his own eyes dropping to her mouth and the rosy tongue he so badly wanted to graze with his teeth and suck in the abyss of his mouth.

“Jones…” she returned his tone, moving an inch closer.

“You’re playing with fire.” his tone held a subtle warning, an undermined threat, a good girls get burnt by bad boys like him kind of message.

She got the insinuation. And she leaned even closer, lips dancing against his as she sighed in insatiable hunger.

“Good. Burn me alive.”

He didn’t need more encouragement after that. In a swift movement thatsucked the air out of her lungs, Jughead moved forward with an almost painful growl, taking hold of hercheeks and claiming her luscious lips, raw and demanding, drawing a shockedgasp out of them. The force of the movement made her lean backwards, fingersgripping his t-shirt at the sides of his waist, his sinful mouth coaxing hersopen, demanding more, demanding entrance. She granted it of course and histongue invaded the hotness of her mouth with a big exhale of oxygen in the formof a male hiss of appreciation and anticipationthat travelled to all hernerve-endings instantly, causing electricity to shoot through her veins. Astrong arm curled around her waist and lifted her up effortless, Betty’ssurprise squeal rolling from her tongue to his, as the two muscles twirled in awet hurricane of lust, him hoisting her on the desk with a loud thud andsettling between her legs, dropping his hands on her hips and sliding them overthe plastic surface while jerking his own in perfect coordination, her skirtgetting wrinkled between them.

There was a sizeable bulge against the skimpy lace of her panties andBetty dropped her head back at the contact, breaking their kiss to let a filthymoan as his teeth closed around her chin, lips trembling against her flesh in awanton groan at the heat and wetness against the front of his pants. Herfingers twirled the front of his t-shirt, effectively pulling him flat againsther, as he started littering her smooth neck with open mouthed kisses and wet,bruising sucks, her left leg hitching over his side, the heel of her sneakerurging him to grind harder and firmer against her dripping wet center, and herother curling around his knee, keeping him captive between her thighs, aprisoner at her mercy. He was leaving dirty sighs and heavy breaths against thesensitive skin of her collarbone, biting and nibbling and creating love bites ofall shapes and sizes, and Betty was losing her mind, letting high-pitched sighsand moans at a need that she never felt before, an insane urge to rip hisclothes and demand for him to ride her fast and dirty, treat her like his precious, roaringmotorbike.

“I wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you through thatwindow.” His tongue licked a trail from the dip of her collarbone to her ear,biting the earlobe before growling the words in a whisper and circling his harderection against the place she needed him the most. “You are the most exquisitevision I’ve ever seen in my life.” His hand pulled at her ponytail to suckviolently just under her jawline, Betty writhing and gasping under him, archingher chest against his fingers that were now playing with the zipper of his Serpentjacket.

“I’ve never been this crazy for a guy before.” She whined pathetically, tightening even more the hold of her leg around his hip, feelingher whole body shiver under his skillful ministrations and dominant nature.His bony fingers curled around her chin, forcing her to look at him, as hisother hand started lowering the zipper torturously slow, both their chestspanting hard and their eyes darkening more and more with lust but never backingfrom their passionate stare off. Jughead was the first one to declare defeat asthe leather outerwear loosened around her breasts, him licking his lips at thesight of the two mounts, round, firm and heaving, pushed up mouthwateringly andwrapped in sexy dark burgundy lace for his eyes only.

“God, you’re so sexy.” He hissed sensually, bouncing his head back towatch his large hands caress from the shoulders to her sternum, over herbreasts, her ribs until they settled firmly on her prominent hipbones, Bettyarching under his touch, head rolling heavily side to side as low erotic sighswere leaving her open in wonder lips. His chapped lips came to kiss the topof her right breast and she mewled, then his teeth pulled the flesh at thecurve of the other, right next to the cute little bow at the middle of her bra,making her gasp and buck her hips towards his rolling ones, before he movedfurther down, leaving wet kisses on her flexing stomach, her ribs, her navelthat had her moaning low in her violently rising and falling chest and grippinga fistful of his tantalizing raven waves for dear life.

The ultimate destination was her left hip, Jughead smirking against thebaby blue lacey thong that the misplaced on her waist skirt revealed, before curling hisfingers around it and pushing aside the material for his mouth to linger, partedand watering, against her hipbone. Betty’s eyes snapped open, their green shadedarker than ever before, and she looked down at him, Jughead connecting theirlustful orbs from his place almost between his legs. Opening his lips andsucking loudly her flesh there, she closed his eyes to relish in the feeling offilthily abusing her skin, bringing his teeth to the game and biting hard,sucking and nibbling, the angel underneath him forming the most voluptuousmoans that went straight to his painful now erection that was begging to sinkinto her thrashing body that was created by and for sin. A sultry fuck left her bubblegum pink lips andher head fell backwards as she rested her palms splayed on the desk behind her andJughead almost lost it at the sight of pure and innocent Betty Cooper gettinglost in pleasure with a bad boy like him, a boy that parents always advised good girlsto stay away from. With mouth wide open, silk sweat on the swell of her breasts,the infamous Serpent jacket still draped over her shoulders and legs spreadwide with a patch of soaking wet lace between them though, she was far from the goodgirl everyone was mistaken her for. And that was driving Jughead Jones mad and utterly helpless under her spell.

Once pleased with the large round redness on her skin that would turninto a lovely mauve bruise to compliment all of her other choices of pantiesfor the rest of the week, the raven haired boy let the waistband of her thongsnap back against her hipbone, Betty letting a hiss at the contact of the elastic with herirritated skin, before she watched him running the tip of his tongue in astraight line from her navel all the way up her stomach, the valley of herbreasts, the front of her neck, before shoving it again inside her mouth andtreating her with a wet and lazy make out.

“Jesus, Jughead, what are youdoing to me?” The blonde beauty murmured against his lips, fingers dancing fromhis chest to his neck, only to get lost inside his thick hair.

“You’ve seen nothing yet, Cooper.” He licked her down lip and then bitit lightly, her moan of appreciation and dizzy sexual desire warming his partedmouth. “Now, off you go.” He curled his hands around the back of her thighs,effortlessly putting her on the ground and holding her close as she stumbledforward, too lightheaded to actually stand on her own.

“You can’t be serious.” She scoffed looking up at him, her body rigidand wanting more of him, right here, right now.

“Weatherbee is going to be back any minute now.” Jughead reminded her,bending down to brush the tip of his nose against hers in newfound affection. “AndI want to do this right with you. I wanna take you out on a date” he gave her one of her favorite boyish smiles before dropping to leave a tender kiss on her neck “and a second” another kiss “and a third…” another and another and another and she was dizzy once again.

Betty smiled dreamingly, eyes closed and lips pecking the collarbone she was nudging her cheek against. “Only if you pick me up with that bike of yours.”

He chuckled against her skin, feeling her shiver, before pulling back and pushing a rebellious golden lock behind her ear. “You got yourself a deal. Friday night?” he raised his eyebrows in question.

“Friday night.” she confirmed with a happy nod and a girly smile, lower lip trapped between her teeth. “I’ll wear my shortest dress.” she toyed with his hormones like a pro, making him moan, slender fingers curling around his belt loop and rubbing her bra clad chest over his as she leaned to whisper playfully next to his lips.

Jughead’s eyes glistered with naughty mischief. “And those panties.” he offered back, drinking in her body hungrily and sneaking a hand over her firm behind under her skirt. “I wanna take a closer look.” He squeezed the bare skin of her ass, Betty jumping and letting a squeak of girly delight as she landed on his hard chest with a flustered giggle. “And don’t forget,Cooper. You owe me a smile.” he tipped her chin with the pointer of his free hand in faux warning before leaving a chaste kiss on her lips and untangling himself from her, instantly feeling empty.

And smile she did, bright and dashing andyouthfully, receiving the one thing that made her start falling in love withthe bad boy and his golden heart; a wink.

[sincerelybluevase]

Fanfic Friday: Strife

I got some requests to write the one-shot Tension I did last week from the POV of Shelagh and/or Patrick as well. It seemed too good an opportunity to miss, so here we go! Angst, fluff, and steam ahead. Thanks to @purple-roses-words-and-love for betaing, as usual.

 Shelagh could not help but feel her blood boil as she came downstairs and saw Patrick in his comfortable chair, reading The Lancet, and drinking a cup of tea, even though a pile of unfolded nappies still littered the coffee table. She had intended to fold them before, but Teddy had been terribly fussy, and it had taken over an hour of rocking him and singing lullabies before he drifted off to sleep. It had been time for Angela’s afternoon nap, then, and putting her little darling girl to bed had eaten half an hour of time.

She was far behind on her housework now, and while seeing her husband with his feet up and the worry lines smoothed from his face would normally cause her heart to flutter in a giddy, girly fashion, today it twisted her stomach in anger.

“Patrick!” she said, planting her hands on her hips.

He lowered the delicate china cup with flowers he was drinking from, looked at her, and smiled. “Shelagh! Is Teddy asleep? I thought…”

“Maybe you should think less and do more,” she snapped, gathering the nappies in her arms and transferring them to the dinner table, which was larger and thus provided a better workspace for her to fold them.

“Just leave them and drink a cup of tea with me,” Patrick said, putting his cup on the matching saucer and stretching. His joints popped and he sighed.

“And who is going to fold those nappies, hm? The fairies? And who is going to peel and dice the potatoes so that we can have dinner in time, and who is going to give Teddy his dinner, and…” her voice was very sharp and thin, like a knife.

“Shelagh, don’t make such a fuss!” Patrick said, stepping behind her.

She whirled around, fire blazing in her eyes and brows knitted. “That is easy for you to say! You come home and make tea for yourself and just sit down and relax, never mind that pile of nappies that still needs folding!”

“If you want me to help you do the housework, all you have to do is ask. You know that I will help,” Patrick objected, voice cold and formal.

“Why do I have to ask you to help me? Why can’t you see that a pile of nappies needs folding, and why can’t you do it of your own accord? I am always working so hard to make sure you come home to a tidy house, I am always doing my best to please you…”

“If you want something, just ask!” Patrick said. “I’m not a mind reader, now am I? And you are not Sister Bernadette anymore. You can tell me what you need!” This statement was accompanied by a wagging index finger.

That little gesture, combined with his doctor’s voice, made her anger explode like a burning star. Heat pulsed through her, causing crimson to nestle itself in her cheeks. “Don’t you lecture me, Patrick Turner! And don’t you dare wag your finger at me as if I’m a little girl that needs scolding. I am not your daughter!” her voice was high and piercing, so unlike her normal voice that she blinked in shock and fell silent.

His eyes widened in surprise and he let his hand drop. It fluttered to his side like a dead leaf.

“And I am very much aware that I am not a nun anymore,” she said, her voice small again, fighting to get past the lump in her throat. “I stopped being Sister Bernadette for you, if you will remember.” Her hands curled into the creased nappies like claws.

“Shelagh, I am sorry…” Patrick started, and though some warmth had started to bleed into his voice, it was still stilted and distant.

“Don’t,” she said, gathering the nappies and stepping away from him. She buried her face in the freshly washed linen as she walked upstairs to hide the tears that tracked down her cheeks.

 When she came downstairs, Patrick had made the table as a little peace offering she couldn’t accept, not yet, anyway. His eyes rested on her all during dinner. She knew he was trying to make eye contact with her, but she refused to look at him. She was afraid she would start crying again, and how terribly humiliating would that be? Especially in front of the children…

Timothy had picked up on the tension as soon as he walked through the front door, and talked a lot through dinner, trying to sound cheerful.

Shelagh smiled at him, grateful for his efforts to shield Angela from the strained atmosphere. Her little girl was sensitive, though, and ate only a little. She looked peaky, listless.

She’s just tired, Shelagh decided. Teddy started crying because he was hungry, then, and all her concentration was absorbed by his quickly reddening face.

When she had fed him and put him to sleep, she focused her attention on her daughter again. Patrick and Timothy had done the washing up – another small peace offering which she didn’t want and hadn’t asked for–, allowing her to study Angela. The girl sat colouring, going over the same spot with her crayons again and again.

“Aren’t you feeling well, Angel girl?” Shelagh asked.

“No,” Angela confessed. Her lip was trembling and she looked like she was going to cry.

“How about I take you upstairs and tuck you in?” Shelagh proposed. Anything to get away from Patrick’s searching eyes. She didn’t know if they would be hard and stubborn if she met them, which would be bad, or soft and dog-like, full of remorse, which would be worse. She had hurt him by screaming at him, but he had hurt her, too, and now she was raw and distressed.

All over a bunch of nappies, she thought wryly, gathering up Angela’s crayons. But it wasn’t just over a bunch of nappies. It was about a lot more.  

“Shelagh, I’m perfectly happy to do that for you, I…” Patrick started.

“Don’t,” she told him, brows furrowing again of their own accord. She picked Angela up and cupped the back of her head protectively with one hand, letting her fingertips travel over the curve of the girl’s skull. Angela placed her head against Shelagh’s throat and sighed.

Shelagh quickly carried the child upstairs, away from the air sizzling with hurt and things unsaid.

“Mummy, are you angry with Daddy?” Angela murmured.

“A little bit, yes,” Shelagh admitted, not looking at her while putting her down on her bed and then picking up Angela’s nightdress from where it lay folded in the cupboard.

More like a lot, Shelagh had to admit to herself. They had their share of squabbles, of course, but it had been a very long time since she had felt so hurt. There had been the big fight before Angela came into their life, before the girl that was a blessing and a balm brightened their days, but that had been different. It had been Shelagh who reached out to Patrick to make things right again. Now, he was trying to come near her, and it was she who was rebuffing him. She suddenly wondered if that wasn’t exceptionally childish of her.

“Why?” Angela asked, snapping her out of her contemplation.

“Sometimes, people say hurtful things, Angel girl,” Shelagh explained helping her undress before tugging the nightdress over Angela’s head and smoothing her hair, lovingly tucking a wayward strand behind the rosy shell of her ear.

Angela’s big blue eyes looked very solemn. “Are you waiting for him to say sorry?” she, asked, picking up her bunny and stroking the threadbare ears.

“Yes,” Shelagh had to admit. She wasn’t even angry with him for not folding those nappies anymore; instead, she was hurt by his condescending tone, by the silent implication that his words carried: You are at fault for not communicating with me.

But had she not accused him of the same thing years ago? Was she being a little hypocritical here?

“Will that take long?” Angela asked, wriggling under the sheets.

“I don’t know. Your father is very stubborn, sometimes,” Shelagh sighed, feeling tears pool behind her eyelids again. Was that true, though? Had Patrick not tried to get near her in the past few hours, trying to apologise for his behaviour in his own way? But, then again, he had only been taking little household chores from her, as if she was smarting from him not helping out instead of the way he had spoken to her…

Angela cupped her mother’s face between her tiny hands and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Do you want Cuthbert the Second?” she whispered.

“Cuthbert the Second?” Shelagh asked, frowning a little.

“I always snuggle with him when I feel a bit sad,” Angela explained, picking the rabbit from where it lay in her lap and holding it up for her mother to see, fondling its left ear.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind. For now, though, I think Cuthbert will be happier with you,” Shelagh said, kissing Angela’s brow and stroking her cheek with the pad of her thumb. Her daughter was already empathetic and sensitive, learning to look out for others. Shelagh felt tears burn again, though these were tears triggered by a throat-clenching tenderness.

“Okay. I just don’t want you to be sad,” Angela said, looking as if she was close to tears herself.

She had to comfort the girl, and make sure Angela understood that a little strife was normal in any household. She should not go to sleep feeling strange, out of sorts. “We all have to be a little bit sad, sometimes. Don’t you worry about me, though, dearest. I’ll be just fine. You go and cuddle Cuthbert for me and sleep a bit, alright?” Shelagh proposed, tucking her daughter in and kissing her hand, stroking the small digits with her index finger.

“Okay.”

Shelagh switched off the lights, but left the door open a little bit, allowing the light from the hallway to pool into the room. Angela was scared in the dark. Shelagh understood; as a child, she had found the utter blackness that came with night suffocating, too.

She didn’t want to go downstairs, so she went into their bedroom instead, changing into a nightgown.

She sat down to look at Teddy, then. Her baby boy was fast asleep, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She placed her hand on his chest to feel him breathe, letting his warmth soothe her.

He was the tangible reminder of her love for Patrick, and his love for her. She traced the curve of Teddy’s skull with her fingertips, marvelling at how soft the down that covered his head was. He was perfect in every way, a little miracle, another soul she could love with every fibre of her being.

Like she loved Timothy, and Angela.

Like she loved Patrick.

Patrick’s hand covered hers, fingertips grazing Teddy’s chest.

Startled, she turned her face towards him, tilting her head backwards so she could see him. His hazel eyes were very soft in the shaft of moonlight that fell inside the room through the bit of window not covered by curtains. He was smiling a little, but worry lines mapped his face.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, lowering her eyes. She felt as if she had been snapped out of a trance, or an enchantment. “Has Timothy gone to bed yet?”

“Everyone is asleep. You were gone for a long time,” Patrick said, letting go of her hand. He moved away from her to change into his pyjamas.

“Angela took some time to get settled,” Shelagh said, still not looking at him. Her voice was flat.

“I know. I talked to her a bit,” Patrick said.

“Oh?”

“She told me you had said I was stubborn. I told her you were.”

They were silent for a little while. “She asked me why people say hurtful things, sometimes,” Patrick continued, voice low.

“What did you say?”

“I told her that people who say mean things are often hurting themselves, or are angry. I told her that you have to apologise when that happens.” Then, after a heartbeat: “Shelagh, I am sorry. I should have folded those nappies. It was a silly, inconsiderate thing to do.”

Shelagh stepped away from Teddy and sat down on the bed, taking his large hand in hers. He turned around to look at her, and she saw hurt writ large in his eyes.

“Patrick, I am not angry because you didn’t do that chore. Not anymore, at least. I am angry because you talked to me as if I am a child, and…” Her throat had grown thick, and she felt like crying again.

“I know I do that, sometimes, and I am sorry, Shelagh. I know I talk condescendingly towards you when I get angry. I don’t mean it that way. I don’t think you are a child at all,” he said, voice still small. He didn’t meet her eyes.

“And I am sorry I didn’t communicate with you. I should have simply asked you to help me,” she whispered, placing her fingertip under his chin and tilting his head up so he could look at her.

“I shouldn’t have commanded you to talk with me like that, though. I know you find it hard to ask for things, even though you haven’t been a nun in years,” Patrick said.

“I’m not a nun anymore. You were right: I should ask for things now,” Shelagh said, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

He cupped her face and stroked her cheekbones with his rough thumbs. They rested their foreheads against each other, breath mingling.

“Did you mean it? When you said you feel as if you’re always only working to please me?” Patrick asked, and the worry was back in his eyes and voice.

Shelagh felt a twinge of guilt. She smiled at him, caressing his lined face with the hand that wore her wedding ring, the sign she belonged to him and he to her. “Sometimes, yes. But pleasing you pleases me, and…”

“Then let me pleasure you tonight,” Patrick proposed.

“But you do. You always do.” And that was the truth. Their marriage, their love, was a careful giving and taking, a balancing act that sometimes wobbled a bit – like the tremor of just a few hours ago – but was strong and sound.

“Yes, but I want to show you that I am not selfish,” he said.

“You are not a selfish man, Patrick. Stubborn and a bit blunt, sometimes, but never selfish,” she said, and kissed him softly.

“Oh, but I am selfish, Shelagh, at least a little bit. I want you, always want you,” he murmured, voice growing low with desire.

“I want you…” she started, but found she could not find words to finish her sentence. Maybe she didn’t have to finish it. Maybe it was a good sentence as it was.

“Please,” he asked.

He wanted to show her that he loved her, that he was sorry.

She wanted to show him that, too.

She kissed him softly, the tip of her tongue tracing his lips, placing one hand on the back of his neck, using the other one to undo the buttons on his pyjama shirt. It was slow going, but that was all right. She kissed his chest, taking delight in how her lipstick smeared on his skin, marking him as hers for now.

Patrick shrugged out of his shirt and she let her hands roam over his shoulder, over his chest and ribs, fingers tickling through the smattering of dark hair. He shucked his trousers and pants, then he let his hands wander up her legs.

She sighed as he kissed the shell of her ear, then her jawline, her throat. His clever fingers trailed circles on her thighs, causing the heat of desire to pool in her belly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear.

She bit her lip to stifle a moan as his fingers traced her folds through her knickers. “Don’t be,” she breathed. With trembling hands she pulled her underwear down so his fingers could trace the pink, wet flesh without obstructions. The heat in her belly became an inferno, flames licking and scorching her nerves. It was pain and pleasure at the same time. She wanted him inside her so that the smarting emptiness would disappear, and there would only be bliss.

Patrick smiled, and kissed her as he tried to lay her down.

“Wait,” she gasped, and sat up.

He frowned. “Am I doing something wrong?” he asked, breathing fast and shallow, eyes cloudy with desire.

“No. But I want…” she started, then stopped.

“Tell me,” he urged her.

She sighed, and embraced him, rubbing her nose against his throat, breathing in his scent. “I want to try something,” she said, blushing.

“Whatever you want,” Patrick murmured in her ear.

She smiled at that, then pushed him down on the mattress. With one fluid motion she pulled her nightgown over her head, then straddled him, biting back a moan as she sank down, arching her back in pleasure.

She could feel Patrick’s hands large and strong on her hips. Could hear as he, too, moaned in ecstasy.

God, this was good. He was deep inside her, filling the emptiness that demanded to be filled, and that was delightful. She adjusted the angle, then started to move, lowering and raising herself gently at first, then faster.

Patrick’s hands travelled upward to cup her breasts. She interlaced her fingers with his to stop him. Her breasts were sore from breastfeeding, and already heavy again with milk. The last thing she wanted was for him to touch them and for them to start leaking.

“Is this what you want?” Patrick panted, moving in counter rhythm.

“I want all of you,” she growled, momentarily surprising herself with how guttural and deep her voice sounded. The statement was true, though; she wanted his love and tenderness and compassion, and his stubbornness and sulkiness. She wanted all of it, all of him. Right now, she wanted him even deeper inside her, and she said so.

Patrick flipped her on her back, looming over her with glittering eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered, and kissed him very gently.

“Love you, too,” he murmured, then started to move again.

She hooked her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles, locking him to her. She buried one of her hands in his hair and let the other one roam over his back, fingertips skirting his shoulder blade, then his vertebrae.

“Good God, I love you,” Patrick breathed in her ear, and those words, combined with a particular movement of his hips, unravelled her.

He didn’t last much longer, his desire to join her there overpowering him.

 “I think we should fight more often, if this is how we make up,” Patrick murmured, fingertips skating over her shoulder.

“Hm,” she answered, listening to his heartbeat slow. They were both slick with sweat, and she would have to wash and put her nightgown on before she went back to sleep again, but not just yet.

“This was beautiful, Shelagh,” Patrick continued, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“We can do this more often without the fighting,” she said. She opened her mouth to say more, but at that point Teddy started to whimper. She had already slung a leg over the edge of the bed when Patrick took her hand and squeezed it.

“I’ll get him,” he whispered, and stood up to gather the mewling baby in his arms.

Shelagh leaned back against her pillow, smiling as her husband brought their son to her.

“He is one impatient little boy,” Patrick whispered as he passed the baby to her.

“He’s stubborn, and wants his way,” Shelagh said, bringing Teddy’s mouth to her nipple. He latched on and started sucking greedily. She sighed as her milk began to flow.

“Now, does he take after his mother or his father?” Patrick asked, wriggling his eyebrows. He sat down beside her, slinging an arm around her and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Maybe both of us,” Shelagh whispered, and kissed Patrick before he could say anything more.

 Something tickled her cheek. “Mommy?”

Shelagh came awake at once, blinking away the tiredness that tried to press her eyelids closed. She rubbed her eyes to get rid of the last wisps of fatigue. “Angela? What’s wrong, darling?” she murmured.

“I had a bad dream,” Angela confessed, eyes moist with tears.

Oh, little one, Shelagh thought. Then: Good thing Patrick and I put on our pyjamas again. “Come here,” she said, giving Patrick a shove to get him to move to his side of the bed and slinging back the sheets so Angela could crawl into bed with her.

“Hm, what?” Patrick muttered, sitting up straight as a ramrod and staring ahead groggily.

“Your daughter had a bad dream,” Shelagh whispered. She slung her arms around her little girl and settled her between them, kissing her hair.

“A bad dream?” Any trace of sleep had left Patrick’s voice immediately.

“Do you want to tell us about it?” Shelagh asked, stroking the child’s hair.

Angela sniffed, wiping a tear away with the threadbare ear of her toy rabbit. “I don’t remember. I was just…”

“Yes?” Patrick encouraged her, enveloping her tiny hand with his massive one.

“I was afraid you would stay angry with each other,” she confessed, voice small, eyes trained on her toy.

Shelagh looked at Patrick. Understanding arched between them. He gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod, then turned to Angela. “Dearest Angela, your mother and I will never stay angry with each other. We have our fights sometimes, all people do, but we will always talk about it, and stop being mad.”

“So you’ve said sorry to each other? And hugged each other?” she asked.

“Yes,” Shelagh said, kissing Angela’s temple and putting her head back on the pillow.

“Is that why daddy has a bit of lipstick on his chest?” Angela murmured, sleep already overtaking her.

Shelagh felt her blood shoot to her cheeks.

Patrick was grinning from ear to ear and cocked one eyebrow at Shelagh as he said: “Something like that, yes.”

“Oh,” Angela breathed, before closing her eyes completely. Her breathing evened out and Shelagh knew her little girl was asleep.

“Do you think she understands that there is nothing for her to worry about?” Shelagh asked, brows furrowed with worry.

“Of course,” Patrick said, stroking Angela’s blonde hair. He looked at Shelagh, and smirked. “The real question now, of course, is: did I pleasure you tonight?”

“Stop it,” she said, slapping his arm, then stilling as Angela turned over and snuggled closer to her mother.

“Saying what you want and need and feel is important in marriage,” Patrick sighed as he put his head back on his pillow.

“Yes,” Shelagh said. She could not help but feel love wash over her as she looked at Patrick’s face, the worry lines temporarily smoothed away somewhat. Tonight this sight, combined with Angela’s warmth, the sound of Teddy’s steady breathing, and the knowledge that Timothy was down the hall, comfortably asleep, made her feel like she was the luckiest woman alive.  

[ramblings-daily]

The Special Phone Call / Drabble

Fandom: Criminal Minds Words: 2,725 Pairing: Luke Alvez / Penelope Garcia Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez and Derek Morgan Requested by: @marialovesdean - she gave such a cute prompt so I hope I gave it justice by writing this little cute drabble (:  and here is the link of the same drabble on FF ^^

Luke leaned against the elevator as he closed his eyes for a few seconds. He spent the weekend playing with Roxy at the dog park for most of the time. With his body aching all over, he's not exactly sure if he is up for another case that might take weeks to solve. The sound of the elevators arriving to the BAU's floor and opening caused his eyes to open. Clenching onto his backpack, he exhaled deeply before exiting and making his way toward the bullpen. "Hey."

JJ looked up from her phone. "You look tired."

"Roxy was really hyper this weekend," Luke put his backpack down on top of his desk and chuckled. "I changed her diet in the last few days, I think that's why."

Spencer leaned against his seat. "She's not on the raw diet anymore?"

Luke shook his head. "She wasn't feeling well when she was on the diet." Settling into his seat, he sighed. "I was suggested to change the diet and see what happens." He glanced around the bullpen. "What's the case?"

"I don't know," JJ answered. "Both Emily and Penelope haven't left the office yet, they've been discussing something for the last twenty minutes. And Rossi hasn't arrived."

"Maybe it's not that bad," Spencer suggested. "When we do have a bad case, we're all huddled around the conference room instead." Taking a book out from his drawer, he started opening it to read.

"Conference room." Emily called out for the team as she slowly made her way over with Penelope following behind. "We have a case in Chicago. Double homicide, the third one in the last two weeks."

"A serial killer?" JJ looked up at the screen just as Penelope brought up the pictures.

Emily nodded her head. "Rossi won't be joining us due to personal issues but the case is simple. We just need to fly over there and try to help out the local officers."

"Alright." Spencer stood up. "Wheels up in 20?"

"Actually, with Rossi not being with us, I thought we needed another hand." Emily suggested.

JJ knit her eyebrows together. "The case is simple? I think the four of us can handle the case."

"Yeah," Penelope agreed. "But you wouldn't know Chicago as much as the guy that's joining us."

Luke arched an eyebrow. "Who is coming?"

Derek knocked on the door and smiled brightly at the team. "Agent Derek Morgan is joining you to Chicago." He winked over at Penelope. "Baby Girl." Penelope smiled. "Welcome back."

Luke glanced between Penelope and Derek as he collected his files in silence.

. . .

Penelope moved around comfortably on her chair around her office as she took a sip of her tea. Checking the time on her watch, the team should be looking over the crime scenes right now. Her eyes adverted over to her little figurines on her desk, landing particularly on the newest member of the family. The little cat stress toy that Luke had given her a couple weeks ago. The longer she looked at it, the wider her smile became on her face. She blinked her eyes in confusion when her phone started ringing. Getting into tech analyst mode, she pressed the button and cleared her throat as soon as she saw the caller ID. "Newbie."

Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as he looked back at the phone before chuckling through the line. "Baby Girl, it's me."

Recognizing Derek's voice, she narrowed her eyes at the wall. "Why are you calling me through newbie's phone? Where's yours?"

"Broken." Derek simply replied.

"Broken?" Penelope repeated. "You were chasing somebody, weren't you?"

He laughed through the line as he took a sip of his coffee. "It was a false alarm. Just a kid who witnessed a robbery near the recent crime scene. He was scared to be connected with the homicides." He leaned against the wall as he looked around the Chicago's police station. "I need you to run a license plate for me, sweet girl."

Penelope smiled. "Go ahead." As soon as she was given the numbers, she typed as fast as she could on the computers. "No tickets, nothing."

"Really?" Derek nodded his head. "Alright." He glanced over at Luke, who was just walking into the police station after checking out a different crime scene with JJ. "When are you going to stop calling Luke that? He's not exactly a newbie anymore."

"Hm," Penelope could sense Derek's judgement all the way from over here. "Don't judge me, Hot Bod. I will keep calling him newbie until he's not exactly a newbie anymore."

"When?" Derek laughed. "Until another new member comes in? If that's the situation, you should be calling Walker by newbie."

"Sweet Baritone is Sweet Baritone. I can't just change given nicknames like that." Penelope smirked as she played with the little figurines on her desk. "What if I changed your nicknames in the past?"

Derek nodded his head over at Luke, who was greeting him. "I wouldn't have liked that, Baby Girl. You'll always be my Baby Girl and I'll always be your Chocolate Thunder." He walked over to where the team were huddling, preparing to release the profile. "I'll be using Luke's phone for the case so just expect some sweet conversations when you pick up the phone call."

Penelope laughed. "Okay. Call me when you need me."

Hanging up the phone, he handed it over to Luke. "Thanks."

Luke looked at the phone, sliding it back over to him. "You should just keep since you need it. I can just use JJ's when I'm with her. I can always take it back once the case is over."

Derek nodded his head. "Alright."

. . .

Closing the door behind her as she yawned with a cup of coffee in her hand, Penelope sat down in her seat. Another day has passed since the team went off to Chicago which means another day she has been alone in the BAU building. Sometimes she wished that her job also requires her to be out in the field. But then she remembers the horror that she would see that can only lead to nightmares making it a terrible idea.

The phone rang with Luke's phone number showing up on her phone. "My sweet baby with the chocolate abs, how are you this morning?"

Derek laughed. "My morning just got better with those soothing words from my girl."

Penelope giggled. "Of course. How can I help?"

"Just talk to me."

"You don't have anything about the case for me?" Penelope asked.

"We caught the guy a couple of hours ago," Derek said. "We're staying in Chicago for another day because my mom invited the team for dinner and dessert."

"Really?!" Penelope rolled her eyes. "I am going to miss her beautiful, delicious lemon cake again?" She groaned. "I wish you would've told me that the case is done before I walked myself into the office."

Derek chuckled. "I thought the others told you." He closed his eyes briefly as he rubbed his temples. "Luke and JJ is interrogating him right now. As soon as we get the confession and signature, we're off to dinner at my house. I just talked to Savannah over the phone so I wanted to call and check up on you."

"Bring me back some cake." Penelope demanded.

"Baby, my mother is making you another batch. Just for you." Derek's family has a close relationship with Penelope just like him. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something else."

Penelope took a sip of her coffee. "Go ahead."

"Be a little nicer to Luke."

"I am nice." Penelope replied.

"Baby..." Derek knows the difference between nice Penelope Garcia and slightly mean Penelope Garcia. "You can't create a wall between him just because he replaced me."

Penelope frowned. "I just miss you."

"And I am here," Derek reassured her. "You're just acting like this because he ended being hot."

She gasped at the audacity from Derek Morgan. "I am not!"

"His kind of hotness is on the level that you're not used to." Derek continued. "You and I have this flirty banter and it has made you comfortable to always say certain things with me. The same goes for me. With Luke, you want to say certain things so badly but you can't. You don't know if it's even appropriate toward Luke. His personality may be different from mine but I think he can handle a little flirtatious for five seconds."

"No." Penelope refused. "I can't be nice or flirty with him."

"Why?" Derek questioned. He watched as Luke and JJ walked out of the interrogation room, showing him the document with the confession and signature. That's when something clicked in his head. "You like him, don't you?"

"What?" Penelope cleared her throat. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard from you, Derek Morgan."

Derek smirked. "It makes sense. With your kind of personality, you don't care who you make flirtatious comments to. I mean, the other week when we were together at the cafe with Savannah. You said some really flirty stuff to the waiter that was serving our food!"

"No. He was flirting with me." Penelope corrected him.

He laughed. "You refuse to be nice or act your normal flirtatious self around Luke? I'm calling it. You like him and it's different from what you've felt before. You actually like him to the point that you don't know what to do except forcing yourself to be mean to him." Derek closed his mouth as soon as Luke walked over, collecting and cleaning off the table. "We are continuing this conversation later. I'll call you back when I can." Hanging up the phone, he smiled as he handed it back to Luke. "Thanks for letting me borrow it. I don't think I need it anymore."

Luke chuckled. "It's cool." Zipping his backpack, he sighed and looked at him. "So did Penelope say anything?"

Derek narrowed his eyes at him, scanning at his body language up and down. "Nothing, she didn't say anything."

"Oh, alright." Luke smiled as he put his backpack onto his shoulders. "Do I have to prepare a gift for your mom and sisters?"

"No." Derek laughed. "For my sisters, you handsome looks are good enough for them."

. . .

Penelope twirled around in her seat as she sat in the office with music playing in the background. In another few minutes, she can finally leave work and just lay in bed to rest. The idea that tomorrow she can eat the infamous lemon cake again is already making her excited. The sound of the phone ringing distracted her, causing her to push the chair forward to the phone. Taking one look a the caller ID, she pressed the button before putting the call in speaker. "Derek Morgan, listen to me loud and clear. Whatever your profiler's side is thinking, erase it. You better not tell the others especially Luke Alvez. God, sometimes I hate you. I can't believe you figured me out just like that after a few minutes. I was keeping it under control, you can't ruin it for me. I don't know why I can't flirt with him, okay? I mean, I've tried. Have you seen how he looks on a daily basis? Of course, you don't but I do. And let me tell you, my sweet chocolate abs. As beautiful as you are, Luke Alvez is like on another level. Especially that damn gorgeous smile of his. How many times has he smiled at you? Tell me. It's gorgeous, isn't it? Sometimes I just want to grab that face and just kiss those lips." Penelope took a deep breath. "But I can't because he thinks I hate him and I am going to leave it at that. He doesn't need to know how I feel or how I even think of him as a beautiful figure with that sweet personality. Which has me thinking, how does he think that I hate him? Has he been telling you that he thinks that I hate him? Do I really come off that mean? I mean, he has told me before but," Penelope groaned as she lost her train of thought. She glanced over to the little cat stress toy on her desk. Clenching it in her hand, she sighed deeply. "I don't mean to sound so mean but what am I suppose to say, Derek? A part of me wants to openly flirt with him to test the waters but then another part of me is scared. What if he reacts differently than you? Of course I don't want anything like ours because our special phone calls is what makes everything amazing. But he's not like you, Derek. And I don't even know how he feels about me sometimes." Penelope focused her attention at the little cat stress toy, playing with it for a few seconds. The silence through the phone annoyed her. "Derek, say something."

Clearing his throat, Luke shyly chuckled. "Actually, it's Luke."

Penelope's eyes widened as she leaned over to check the caller ID. "What are you talking about? Why are you answering?!"

"Uh," Luke furrowed his eyebrows together. "Because it's my number."

"Isn't Derek using your phone?!"

Luke looked over at Derek, who was helping his family set up the table. "No. He gave it back a couple hours ago."

Penelope could feel her life sailing away as she banged her head against the desk. "What is it?"

Luke couldn't hide his smile as he struggled to focus on the reason behind the phone call. "I wanted to call and ask if you could pick up Roxy for me. You know, the same place as before."

"The dog care center?" Penelope checked the time on the clock, it's time for her to leave work. "Yeah, I'll do it."

"Thanks." Luke looked around. "I'll pick her up from your place tomorrow."

"Sure, not a problem." Penelope quickly hung up the phone before she collapsed in embrassement. Shaking her head viciously as she refused to believe that Luke had just heard her whole confession, Penelope silently screamed to herself. "I just had to freaking ramble!"

. . .

Luke laughed as he stared at the phone, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

"What's with the smile?" Derek asked. He glanced between the phone and Luke, arching an eyebrow. "Was that Penelope?"

"Huh?" Luke cleared his throat. "Yeah."

Derek laughed. "She doesn't actually hate you." He shrugged his shoulders as he pat Luke's shoulders. "When she doesn't know how to act around certain people, she would act mean because it's the only way for her."

Luke put his phone into his back pocket. "I can see that."

"How do you feel about her?" Derek openly asked.

Luke wasn't sure if he should share such a personal level question like that but he couldn't help it. "I like her."

Derek smiled brightly. "Good. Take care of her for me, Alvez." "She's a bit...." Luke doesn't know how to exactly word what just happened through the phone call. "I don't think she's going to talk to me for a while. That phone call....it was a special one."

He halted his steps in front of the kitchen. "Special? Our definition of special?" Indicating about how he and Penelope talk to each other. "Or..."

"I honestly don't know but it was," Luke couldn't hide his smile. "It felt good to hear some of those rambling words from her."

"Rambling?" Derek cursed at himself. "She thought that phone call was from me, wasn't it?"

Luke chuckled. "Yeah."

"And let me guess, she talked about her actual feelings towards you? Thinking it was me?"

Nodding his head as he took a sip of his wine. "Yes."

Derek couldn't stop laughing. "She's going to hate me when we fly back." Patting Luke's shoulders as he grabbed his own glass of wine. "But at least you know her actual feelings."

"Oh," Luke chuckled. "I knew about her feelings, she was making it a bit obvious but it's nice to hear the feelings out loud."

"What are you going to do now?"

Luke looked around. "I'll call her after dinner."

"A special phone call?"

Luke finished his glass of wine. "A special phone call."

[willsherjohnkhan]

Complicated Little Emotions

Chapter 1: Uncertainty

***

OUTSIDE MOLLY’S FLAT

Sherlock stood, his gaze fixed on the door in front of him, uncertain whether he should knock, or simply turn and walk away.

Uncertainty was not something Sherlock Holmes, the World’s only consulting detective was used to feeling.

In fact, Sherlock ruefully acknowledged to himself, it was one of a whole array of emotions he wasn’t used to dealing with. But it was one of many that were now bubbling to the surface, finally released with the revelation that he had a sister, and all that she had done...

Eurus, the very thought of her, what she had put him, John and Mycroft through.

And Molly...

The emotions he’d felt during and after the phone call were still very raw. They were what had brought him here, to her flat in the early hours of the morning.

Yet the hand he’d raised intending to knock still remained frozen, hesitant. What would be her response when she saw him? Would she allow him to explain?

What finally had his hand connecting with the door was the knowledge that in truth he couldn’t hide away from this, he owed Molly Hooper a full explanation.

What happened after that was entirely her decision.

*

MOLLY’S FLAT – HALLWAY

Molly had been unable to sleep, the phone call with Sherlock still going round and round her head. One moment tears were pouring down her face, and the next she was so angry all she wanted to do was punch him.

She’d been in the kitchen about to make a cup of hot milk in the vain hope it would help her sleep, when she heard the car pull up outside her flat.

She heard someone exit the car that immediately pulled away. Then she’d listened as familiar footsteps made their way to her front door.

Of course instinctively she’d known who it was even before he’d got out of the car. Who else but Sherlock bloody Holmes would turn up at her flat at two o’clock in the morning?

As she stood in the hallway, dressed in a ratty pair of shorts and t-shirt as Sherlock finally knocked on the door, the only thing she didn’t know was whether she would be strong enough to never let him back into her heart again.

***

Chapter 2: Fear and Concern / Shock and Exhaustion

***

OUTSIDE MOLLY’S FLAT

It felt like forever, but at last Sherlock heard Molly unlock the door.

*

MOLLY’S FLAT

What she expected upon opening the door was for the consulting git to barge in, and give her a quick-fire no-nonsense explanation for the humiliating phone call, before requesting that she completely forget the whole incident so that then they could carry on as they had before, as though nothing had happened.

But as soon as she saw him, all her hurt and anger instantly turned to concern. Sherlock looked shattered, his expression one of sadness, loss and utter devastation. With his shoulders slumped, he looked totally beaten. It broke her heart to see him that way.

When he didn’t immediately move, Molly all but dragged him indoors, before leading him into the living room. Only then did she reluctantly let him go so that she could get a fire started.

Sherlock remained where he stood, his eyes downcast.

Moving back to his side, she managed with some effort to get his belstaff off. Almost immediately Sherlock began to shiver uncontrollably, and Molly realised he was going into shock.

Leading him over to the fire, she settled him into the overstuffed armchair, before grabbing a warm blanket from the closet and wrapping it around him. She then headed to the kitchen to make him a mug of hot chocolate, which she placed into his shaking hands and assisted him in raising it to his lips.

A quick examination revealed injuries to his hands. She grabbed a pair of tweezers that she used to remove several splinters, before rubbing antiseptic cream inter the more nasty looking wounds. But other than that none of the injuries he’d sustained could account for the shock. That left psychological trauma. But what could be so traumatic as to leave him in this state.

And then she thought of Mary, and her blood ran cold as another possibility presented itself.

Taking Sherlock’s face in her hands, she forced his unfocused gaze to meet her fearful one. “What’s happened, Sherlock? Is it John? Rosie?”

The agitation in Molly’s voice worked its way into Sherlock’s numbed sub-conscious. The events of not only the phone call, but all that had happened since he’d learned of the existence of his sister hitting him without warning the moment she’d opened the door. Rousing himself from his stooper, he now focussed on reassuring Molly that all, as far as their friend and goddaughter were concerned, was well.

Mirroring her actions, Sherlock gently held her face in his hands. “They’re fine,” he assured her.

Sighing with relief, Molly felt much of the tension within her ease.

“They’re safe,” Sherlock continued. “As is Mycroft... And you.”

Molly realised in that moment that there was so much more going on here than just the phone call. So much more that she had no knowledge of.

But as she looked at Sherlock, exhaustion finally taking its toll, she knew now wasn’t the time for explanations.

So she hauled him out of the chair and down the hall, thankful years of dealing with cadaver dead weight meant handling a nearly comatose Sherlock wasn’t that difficult at all.

*

Once she’s manoeuvred him into her bedroom, she undressed him and got him into bed.

As soon as she joined him under the covers, Sherlock pulled her to him, her back to his front. With his arms secure around her waist, and his nose buried between her neck and shoulder, he let out a contented sigh as his mind and body finally relaxed.

In the blink of an eye he was sound asleep.

***

Chapter 3: Comfort and Forgiveness

***

MOLLY’S FLAT

Molly was jolted awake. Sherlock was thrashing about and moaning, caught up in the throes of a terrible nightmare.

“Redbeard! Victor!” he called out frantically, and then he began sobbing uncontrollably. “Why Eurus? Why did you do it?”

Desperate to offer him what comfort she could, Molly attempted to reach out to him, but Sherlock would have none of it, battering her hands away.

Shortly thereafter he seemed to calm down enough to settle back to sleep, when, without warning his whole body went rigid, and he started screaming her name.

“Molly! Please Molly! Say it, say it, just say it damn you!” Then the scream turned into a snarl, with his teeth bared he announced triumphantly. “I won Eurus, I won. I saved Molly Hooper.” But the triumph was wiped from his face, and he let out the most deafening roar before appearing to rip something apart with his bare hands.

Molly remembered the slivers of wood she’d removed from those same damaged hands. This wasn’t a bad dream, this was a recent memory.

When she reached for him a second time, Sherlock came willingly. Awake now, he clung to Molly as all the emotions he’d kept so carefully buried rose up once again, threatening to overwhelm him.

With Molly’s cheek resting against his forehead, and her fingers weaving their way through his hair, to gently kneed and stroke his messy curls, Sherlock felt the threat ease, leaving him calm and at peace.

Only then did Molly get up and out of bed. Walking over to her wardrobe she grabbed two dressing gowns. Sherlock’s she placed at the end of the bed before putting on her own.

“I’m just going to get breakfast ready. Why don’t you go have a shower, and then we can talk.”

Sherlock made no response, now lost in his Mind Palace.

Molly left him to his thoughts. Whatever she was about to learn, she wanted to know it on a full stomach.

*

She’d just placed their breakfast on the low table by the sofa when Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, dressed once again in his suit.

Once seated, he looked around him, clearly looking for something. Not finding it he frowned and turned to Molly who’d joined him on the sofa. “Where’s Tobias?”

Molly’s expression instantly triggered another recent, painful memory...

**

“Hello, Sherlock. Is this urgent, because I’m not having a good day?”

**

Why had he not seen it earlier, no ratty old blanket adorning the armchair, no toys for him to trip over, the cat scratching tower missing from where it usually stood. All led to one inescapable conclusion.

Had Eurus known that Molly’s beloved feline had passed away that day?

Of course she had, given the surveillance cameras she’d had installed in the flat for God knows how long.

Sherlock closed his eyes at the realisation of how he’d been used a second time, though unwittingly to cause Molly more unnecessary pain.

“I’m so sorry, Molly. I know how, fond of him you were.”

Molly gave him a small smile in thanks. “It’s all right Sherlock, you weren’t to know. He went peacefully.” Feeling the familiar burn of welling tears she quickly changed the subject. “Let’s have our breakfast before it gets cold.”

Sherlock acquiesced to her suggestion without argument.

But once the breakfast was eaten, the coffee drunk and the dishes washed, they knew they could no longer delay the inevitable.

Sitting back on the sofa, Sherlock turned to Molly. “Where do you want me to begin?’

“Who’s Eurus?”

Sherlock nodded his head in acceptance and approval, Molly was never one for taking the easy way out.

“Eurus is my younger sister,” he began, watching Molly closely.

Clearly surprised, she waited quietly to hear more.

“According to Mycroft her intelligence was described as ‘era defining genius, beyond Newton’. Unfortunately she was also a psychopath, and an extremely dangerous one.”

He told Molly all there was to know: - About her jealousy over his friendship with Victor Trevor. And what she had done to him. - Burning down Musgrave Hall. - Being sent away. - How what his sister had done had traumatised him, and how he had dealt with it. Forgetting his sister existed while turning his childhood best friend into a dog. On and on right up until the events that happened the day before.

“I’m so sorry, Molly,” Sherlock said sadly. “I never meant for you to be in such danger. I’ve always tried to keep you safe, but you continually put yourself in harm’s way, despite my best efforts.”

“Sherlock, you must know by now that I will always be here to help you in any way that I can, the consequences be damned.”

“I know,” he assured her with a smile.

“And,” she continued, taking a deep breath. “If we’re talking apologies, then I need to add my own.”

Sherlock frowned in confusion, “Whatever for?”

“I should never have made you say...what I did,” she replied, her eyes downcast. She felt so deeply ashamed, now that she knew what he’d been put through.

“Molly, look at me.”

Once she had, he continued.

“You have nothing to apologise for. You were just another pawn in Eurus’ game.”

Before Molly could respond, Sherlock’s mobile rang. Upon checking the call ID Sherlock said regretfully. “I’m sorry, I need to take this.”

“Of course.”

Sherlock got to his feet as he finally answered the call. “Hello, Mycroft...”

***

Chapter 4: n. 1. Warm liking or affection. 2. Sexual passion. 3. Loved person. 4. (in games) No score, nil. v. 1. Feel love for. 2. Like greatly.

***

MOLLY’S FLAT

While Sherlock spoke with his brother, Molly went into the kitchen to put the dishes away, to give him some privacy.

When she returned to the sitting room, the phone conversation was clearly nearing its end. “I’ll be there shortly.”

As soon as he’d pocketed his mobile, Sherlock walked over to where Molly had placed his belstaff, and put it on.

Realising that this might be the only opportunity for them to openly discuss the elephant that was still hanging precariously over their heads, Molly walked up to the detective.

Reaching up she turned his coat collar down, before running her hands nervously up and down his lapels. “Sherlock,” she began cautiously.

Sherlock braced himself, knowing full well what was coming. But instead of making a comment based on what he had already deduced he remained silent, waiting patiently for Molly to continue.

At last she looked up at him, meeting his gaze straight on.

“I can’t unsay what I said, Sherlock. I have always loved you, and I probably always will,” she paused a moment, her teeth worrying her lower lip. “Knowing what I feel for you... It won’t destroy our friendship, will it?”

Sherlock responded by enveloping her in a warm embrace, his chin resting comfortably on top of her head, as his arms wrapped themselves around her petite form.

“It’s true that the dynamic of our relationship has been irretrievably altered by that phone call,” he agreed. “But has it destroyed our friendship? No, not even close.” Pulling back so that he could look Molly in the eye, he continued. “You were right. I have always known that you loved me. But as I’d convinced myself that sentiment was a defect, I dismissed it, and your romantic feelings for me as irrelevant,” he paused briefly, continuing again with words chosen with obvious care. “It was only when you forced me to say those words out loud that the one secret I had kept hidden, even from myself, was finally revealed for all to see. As unbelievable as it may seem, it is nonetheless impossibly true, I do love you Molly Hooper.”

His words confirmed what she’d believed when he’d said the words the second time. But when Molly looked into his eyes she saw not only his affection for her mirrored there, but also sorrow and regret.

“One day, maybe, I’ll be able to say those words to you in the full knowledge that I mean them with every beat of my heart. But I don’t believe I’m there yet.”

Molly reached up a hand to gently sooth the frown that marred his brow.

“No, I don’t think you are,” she acknowledged. “And that’s okay. Take all the time you need,” and then with a cheeky grin she added. “When you’re ready, you know where to find me.”

Sherlock felt an immense relief wash over him, thankful he had someone so caring and understanding in his life as Molly Hooper.

But when after a couple of minutes he still hadn’t made a move to leave, Molly felt compelled to remind him.

“Don’t you have to go and see your brother?”

Sherlock’s expression immediately became more serious. “Yes I need to go. Mycroft has arranged a meeting with our parents. There’s a lot to explain.”

“Then you need to get going,” Molly urged. “They’ll need your strength.”

Sherlock leant down to press a chaste kiss upon her lips. “As I will always need yours,” he told her, knowing full well that his pathologist already knew.

Just as he headed out the door, he paused and turned back. “By the way, Mycroft is sending some of his people over to remove all the cameras.” Then with a playful wink, he turned, to stride purposefully towards a new and infinitely more exciting, if unpredictable future.

***

[theglitchedworld]

Glitched - Chapter Twelve

The iron went from warm to so freezing cold it felt hot again the moment it hit my bare skin. The next instant, agony shot through me, sending me to my knees with a choked off cry. Magic surged through my body, much worse than anything Emelia had done with my shoulder, but, unlike then, blessed unconsciousness didn't claim me.

I could feel my bones breaking as the magic pushed new material into them, changing and lengthening them as they rehealed. From my skull all the way down to the smallest bone in my feet, they smashed and burned their way into new forms. My skin tore as the bones forcibly lengthened, shredding apart where it couldn't grow fast enough to adapt. The muscles, nerves, and blood vessels slithered like worms over the pink stretches of freshly exposed bone as they worked to reattach themselves to their traditional places.

I wanted to scream.

I didn't have the vocal cords to do it. My throat was in pieces that crawled like millions of snakes worming their way around the elongated bones of my spine to create a more masculine structure. Somehow, even with my nerves not being connected right, I could still feel the crawly, wormy sensation all over my body under the waves of pain.

My stomach churned. Partly because the pain and slimy, crawling sensation all over my body was making me want to throw up. And partly because it felt like someone had rammed what had to be a white hot iron bar into my groin. If my ears had been capable of hearing sound, I'm sure I would have heard my flesh sizzling as the bar was dragged back out, pulling me inside out as it did. I threw up part of the way through it. Or at least I tried to.

I sobbed for it to stop. Tears streamed down my face from my eyes even as those eyes distorted and reformed. My nose ran even as it broke and pieced itself back together. I clawed at the floor, my skin, the walls, anything I could reach with nails that peeled back and forced themselves out anew on fingers that twisted, shattered, and lengthened as I watched.

I was dying. I had to be. No one could live through being shredded and reformed like this. Only the sheer weight of the magic streaming into me from that damned iron chain forced me to remain in my destroyed body. Forced me to remain conscious. Forced me to be aware of every moment of the torment.

And then it was over.

I lay curled on the cold stone floor. I felt weaker than a newborn kitten. I had no energy left to do anything more than drag in one agonizing breath after another through my raw throat. I shook with the aftermath, shivering violently like someone who'd just had a terrible fever break. I felt completely and utterly drained.

I had been wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong. There was no way that chain had been made as anything other than a torture device. I couldn't even imagine how the victims of the crimes it was used as a punishment for could have bared to endure it. It had felt like days that I'd writhed on the floor as it forcibly remade me into a new mold, but later I would learn that bare minutes had past since I'd left the others.

Slowly, my strength and energy returned. I held up a hand before my face, staring blankly at the wider, blockier form. It didn't look like mine any longer, but it wasn't unfamiliar either. I pushed myself to my hands and knees, raising my head to look in the silver mirror.

A familiar face looked back at me. It was similar to mine, enough that we could have been brother and sister back in the real world. We shared the same muddy brown eyes and the dark brown of our hair - though I think maybe his was a bit darker, almost black - but his brow was heavier with thicker eyebrows, the jaw stronger with a wider chin than mine. A dusky haze shadowed the curves of his cheeks, but otherwise he was clean shaven. His nose was stronger, the tip curving up a little more than mine did, yet still having the same unfortunate crookedness near the bridge that had marred my own nose. For the record, I really don't recommend tackling the steepest hill you can find when you're still having trouble staying upright when skating. I was lucky I got off with just a broken nose.

I blinked at my reflection. Raising my hand, I almost clocked myself in the face before I realized my arm was longer than it had been. Once I realized it, I managed to adjust the motion, dragging my fingertips awkwardly over the planes of my face as I stared into the mirror. It was astonishing how much I looked like my father.

I never thought I'd see this face again.

I climbed to my feet. My head felt light as I stood, a rush of vertigo as my body struggled to adjust to the sudden change in elevation. I was taller than I had been before. Maybe six or even ten inches. My shoulders were wider, my arms and chest more developed with muscle. Certain... other dimensions had definitely changed as well. Thank God the men of my family tended to the less hairy side of things. I wasn't sure I could deal with being a bear on top of everything else. But the more I looked into the mirror, the less I could deny it.

This was almost the same body as my avatar from The Bested World outside of the face that was almost creepily like that of someone from my family and a few extra inches of height. Other than that, I was that Theron again. From the top of my head to the four parallel scars on my side where I'd had a nasty encounter with a wolf demon in my first year of play even down to the angle of my... actually, that part wasn't important.

The important thing was I knew this body.

For all that my brain was giving me fits over the height adjustment. I'd kept my height matching my real height of five foot in The Bested World, but apparently this system wanted me to be taller. It was awkward and hard to get used to my longer arms and legs. I'd have to spend time in this body getting used to it before I could even hope to get myself into the corrupted army's ranks.

Which meant no going back to my normal body for a while.

To be honest, that didn't bother me a bit after the experience of changing into my male form. I could only imagine how bad being changed back would be. Actually, I didn't want to imagine it. All it would do would make me try to avoid it and for all the benefits a male body might have, my normal body was more comfortable. And at some point, this thing's power would be used up and I'd have to go through with it whether I wanted to or not.

Oh what a wonderful thing to have to look forward to.

I shook my head at my own absurd thoughts. As it was, Crysal had only just stopped giving me crap about playing a guy in The Bested World. She was probably going to have a regular field day with it now. But however she decided to behave, I needed clothes. The oversized shirt of Crysal's I'd been using wouldn't even fit, let alone actually cover the important bits. Sadly, my new boots were probably in the same boat. And I'd only just gotten them too!

My gaze caught on the heavy armoire as I looked about the room. It seemed promising. And Radani had told me I could use anything I found in the room.

"I just hope everything isn't to the same scale as the rest of the room," I murmured before stopping with a hand raised to my throat. "Ok. That will definitely take some getting used to."

My voice was much deeper than I was used to hearing. It was strange. I'd always had my voice in The Bested World. Hearing what I could only guess were the new normal tones of my reformed throat was just surreal. I made myself ignore it as I crossed the room to the armoire. After all, it was much easier to focus on the fact that I tripped over my own damn feet at least three times before I managed to reach it.

    When I came out of the room, I still felt weak as a kitten and my stomach was growling like an angry dog had taken up residence, but at least I'd managed to find a pair of loose pants that relatively fit and had my older clothes bundled up in one hand. I'd needed to borrow the sash from a weird looking dress to stand in for a belt to hold them up, but at least I wasn't flashing everyone. No shirt though. I was starting to feel like I was condemned to forever only have half of my clothes at any given time.

I'd managed to tie my hair back into a ponytail with a bit of ribbon, so at least I didn't have a bad butter or shampoo commercial moment going on. I really needed to get a haircut. Maybe Crysal could help, though I wasn't sure how safe it was to let her have anything sharp around my neck. Walking was still taking way more concentration that I liked, though I had to admit that I was developing a new found appreciation for why teen boys looked so damn awkward all the time. Growth spurts sucked.

    "Sorry it took so long," I said as I opened the door. My deeper voice still weirded me out a little. "Whatever sick freak came up with this thing needs to be dug up, resurrected, and shot out of a cannon. Preferably into a vat of acid."

Everyone was staring at me.

I suppose I could understand it. I mean I was at least six inches taller. And a guy. Ok. That part was probably a little more surprising. Even if it had been the whole reason I went through with all that crap earlier.

"What?" I frowned, rubbing at my face. The stubble on my cheeks prickled my palm. Great. Now I needed to shave too. Does this place even have razors? "Something on my face?"

"It worked..." Radani's rumble sounded surprised.

"Wait, you thought it wouldn't?!" My voice cracked embarrassingly as I stared at him. "What did you think was going to happen?!"

"Well... we, I suppose," Moreina began, looking aside, a blush tinging the height of her cheeks, "that we weren't certain it would work. It has been more than two hundred years since it was used last. It was possible that the... charge would no longer be strong enough to cause a full change."

"Ugh." I scrubbed a hand through my hair, not trusting my balance enough to do more than glare at the ground. "I can't believe you didn't even know it would work..."

"Hey!" Tomy's outburst accompanied by a surprised little squeak from his little sister made me look up.

Crysal was on her feet. Staring at me. The staring part wasn't new, but the fact that she'd all but dumped poor little Shel on the ground to jump up was. The staring was starting to get more than a little unnerving.

"W-what?" I took a step back almost without thinking. "Crys, come on. You're freaking me out here."

"It's-" She shook her head, reaching up to scrub at her face with both hands. When she lowered her hands again, for a split second, she looked like someone had just murdered her favorite puppy right in front of her and then started cooking it. "It's not fair."

I couldn't find any words to respond. I didn't know how to react. I just stood there with my mouth hanging open like a hanger for flies. I had only known her a couple weeks, so I probably didn't have nearly enough context to base my stunned response on, but I'd never heard her sounding so... I didn't know how to describe it. Her voice just sounded hollow. Like everything that made her her had drained out and evaporated.

I tried to smile, but it couldn't have looked good with how forced it felt. "Not fair? Trust me, you really didn't want to go through what I just did." My attempt at laughing the awkward atmosphere off fell about as flat as a mud balloon.

"You're a girl." Not this again. I really wasn't in the mood. But she kept going, her hands dropping to ball into fists at her side, shoulders trembling so much even I could see it across the room. "Theron's a girl. He's...you're not a guy at all. You... he... you never were a guy, were you?"

I groaned. I couldn't help it. "Dammit, not that again. How many times do I have to tell you that?! I'm me! Yeah, I was a girl! Would you deal with whatever your issue is and get over it already?!" I flung my arms out to my sides, only missing knocking anything over by virtue of not being close enough to hit anything. "I've always told you the truth about who I am!"

"I know." She sounded like a lost little girl as she stared at the ground, her shoulders slumping. The irritation I was feeling shriveled into a tiny knot and faded away as I watched her. "I know you have. I just..." She shook her head, still not looking at me. "It's not fair. I wanted... It's not fair."

Before anyone could stop her, she turned and bolted from the room. The door out to the hall actually slammed behind her, unlike my efforts with the one to the bedchamber. I slowly stopped, staring at the closed door in confusion, having started moving towards her without realizing it.

"What-" I stopped, shaking my head.

It didn't makes sense. Not that much of anything made any real sense in this messed up world. Goat people and bull people and messed up chains that ripped you apart and knitted you back together in a different form and God only knew what else. But even all that made more sense than my being a girl not being fair of all damn things.

"What the hell just happened?" I finally asked. I felt completely bewildered. We'd been getting along. I thought we had a chance of actually getting to be friends. And now?

Moreina sighed and rose to her feet. "Radani, if you'll please see our guests to their chambers, I'll go and see if I can discover what's troubling our young friend. If the records are accurate, I'm sure Theron will be wanting more to eat to replace the energy used in his change."

"Wait. I can go-" I started to protest, only to be stopped by Radani's hand settling on my shoulder. Even as a guy, his hand was freaking massive compared to me.

He shook his head. "My queen can find her much more quickly with her connection to the castle. You have my word that she won't come to any harm while in our walls. Please. Allow me to take the three of you to your rooms. There should be another meal waiting for you by the time we arrive."

My brows furrowed. The whole thing had me feeling uncomfortable but I couldn't really express why. Finally, I gave in to my stomach's piteous grumbling, pushing the whole uncomfortable issue of Crysal's outburst to the back of my mind.

"Alright. But can there please be clothes that fit me too?" I asked, deliberately changing the subject. "I'm getting a little tired of only wearing half an outfit and this place is nice and all, but the floors are a bit cold."

Radani laughed as he led us from the room. "I imagine it can be arranged."

    I didn't realize at the time that it would be weeks before we'd see Crysal again.