#Sam walls vampire therapist

[pheidippidestriesthings]

Started playing Vampire Therapist. The characters are very fun. I love digging into the deep psychology of people/characters, so a game about unpacking deeply ingrained psychology is right up my alley

Paper and a tiny sticky note- I find sticky notes feel more temporary and disposable than a sketchbook, and it helps me get around the desire to only do things that will look finished and good. So by embracing an even more temporary medium, I am more willing to do stuff and as such practice more and as such make things I like.

Fr tho, the game is only $15. There are times when I become aware that $15 is a fair price. But overall it is a delight, and I am the target audience.

[kirbles]

[blaze-s39]

Getting called out by the vampire game

[hepbaestus]

[kismetrose]

Vampire Therapist FTW

I don't tend to buy games/visual novels when they're first released and this week was an expensive one for me, but I grabbed this little gem as a consolation prize. I've missed visual novels and I was instantly interested in its premise. I mean, "Vampire Therapist" says so much so quickly!

Now, I haven't finished it yet, but I have had a delightful time with it thus far. The main character, Sam Walls the vampire cowboy, is an adorable cinnamon roll who wants to help other vampires thrive. His new vampire mentor, Andromachos, is as patient and civilized as you could hope an ancient vampire could be. Each of the patients is unique, and some of them are historic figures.

The view on vampires, their psychology, and their issues is interesting. One thing I appreciate is that the game goes out of its way to show how philosophies, religious beliefs, and other modes of thought influence their worldviews, even many years after those modes of thoughts dwindled in popularity. It reinforces how they are products of older times.

I've become partial to the term "bloodfather/mother/parent" for those who turn others into vampires; I automatically liked it better than V:tM's "sire."

You learn various cognitive distortions and identify them in the statements your patients make; this is the heart of the game experience. I've found myself hearing Sam in my head, identifying them IRL since I started playing, which has added an extra layer of amusement.

I haven't done multiple playthroughs yet so I haven't seen if your choices make much of a difference. There have been some moments when it's clear that it doesn't matter what you choose - you'll either have to go through all the options or you'll go through until you choose the right one. Either way, there doesn't seem to be much difference in how others respond. After a certain point in the patient-cowboy therapist exchange, you don't get many choices; Sam just proceeds to wrap up with his observations and advice.

This has been a little disappointing, since it may make replaying it less satisfying, but it's also reduced the need to save-scum for a persistent little perfectionist like me.

The art is beautiful and Western-style, which I prefer. The entire thing is voiced by good voice actors in a variety of accents which I have had no trouble understanding; having so much voiced is a special treat!

The music is good, but one thing that might bother some of folks is that the music from the club runs rather continuously beneath most conversations. If you find it distracting, you may have to turn it off.

I hope to say more later, but I thought I should put in a good word now. $15 ain't a lot but can be a lot to an indie game company, and buzz can be important for something newly released. If this sounds like it's your bag, there's no harm in grabbing it. You might even learn some things that'll be of use to you.

And yes, Matt Mercer does voice a couple of characters. That wasn't a main draw for me, but I know it is for some folks.

[littlebatgames]

The voices of Vampire Therapist

Hi Tumblr! I'm Cyrus Nemati, creative director at Little Bat Games, where we're making Vampire Therapist. You might know me as a voice actor. I voiced Theseus, Dionysus, and Ares in Hades, so as you might imagine, voices are my thing.

When I started designing Vampire Therapist, I wanted to create characters not only had deep narrative depth, but that would be challenging and rewarding to voice. I voice protagonist Sam Walls and his mentor, Andromachos. Writing a game about therapy is really tricky, so being able to jump in revoice lines was a huge benefit for the game!

I also voice two of the therapy clients in the game, Dr. Drayne and Edmund Kean. Dr. Drayne is the kind of challenge any actor delights in, having three very distinct characterizations that have to seem natural, whereas Edmund Kean is the Shakespearean actor of his time.

As much as I'd like to save money, I couldn't voice all characters in the game, but I'm very picky about voices and needed a cast of the absolute best I could find. So I got them.

If you've played Hades 2, you've heard Sarah Grayson or Selene. Or maybe you know her from Gone Home or Tacoma? But I needed her ability to alternate between the very light and the very dark for murderous vampire content creator Meddy.

To play Isabella d'Este, a real historical figure and esteemed patron of the arts during the Renaissance, I needed someone with a sense of the theatrical and some excellent comic timing. For that, I turned to a very old friend, Kylie Clark, who comes much more from the theatre tradition that video games... which she doesn't play at all. Until Vampire Therapist!

For our fabulous goth bartender, Crimson, I needed the epitome of cool, sexy, and tantalizingly mysterious. You might know Francesca Meaux as Eurydice from Hades, but she went to some unexpected places to play Crimson!

I did say I wanted the best of the best, right? Vampire Therapist is a super low-budget indie, but if I'm going to fill a club with quirky, sexy goths, I need range, and for that, I got Matthew Mercer. Yeah, that Matthew Mercer. The Critical Role one. The one from Baldur's Gate 3. The one from all your favorite video games. How could I do less? He's playing Reinhard the sexy goth and Ciaran the goth priest in Vampire Therapist.

You can see the work we've put into every aspect of Vampire Therapist. I think you're going to find that it's unlike any game you've ever played.

It'll be out on July 18th, and you can wishlist it on Steam now!

And on GOG!

[miss-madness67]

Massages and More (Dean)

Dean really likes your massage.

“Would you please quit moving?” you berate Dean, who instantly stops squirming under you. Your hands travel through his back in a calming manner. His muscles react to your touch.

“Sorry,” Dean murmurs, “I’m just not used to this.”

You had convinced Dean to let you give him a back massage. He had come to the bunker tired after a long hunt. He claimed that his back was sore, and you jokingly commented on his age. You didn’t mean to make him feel bad, but as an apology, you offered to relieve his pain a little.

That’s the reason why you’re on top of Dean Winchester -in a nonsexual way- caressing all of his back muscles. He is resting face down, shirtless, and you are straddling his hips. Some sexual innuendos pop into your mind, but you decide to remain quiet. The point of this is not sex. You want Dean to relax and make his poor back feel better. Of course, you cannot deny the enjoyment from touching that perfect body of his.

Dean and you have always had a weird thing going on. You are friends who have sex and have feelings for each other but don’t acknowledge them head-on. It’s been months since it started; you dance around expecting the other to confess their love. Even though you know you both feel the same way, neither says anything. It’s exhausting, really. Several times you’ve considered maybe, just maybe, being the first one to say it. And then you would think, why you? Why not him? Yeah, you both were stubborn, alright.

With the help of your index and thumb finger, you press into his lower back upwards, trying to release some tension in there. Dean sighs in contentment. You do it again on the other side. It’s a good thing that you made him take a shower first. His skin is still wet from it, and it’s easier to slide your fingers up his back into the juncture between his shoulder blades. You stop briefly to admire the strength of his upper body. His broad chest always makes you swoon a little bit… or a lot. Even if he’s not a big fan of workouts like Sam and eats a lot of junk food, the hunt keeps him in shape. His muscular arms are strong enough to tackle down a vampire, or to lift you up while he fucks you against the wall.

When he moves slightly, you go back to work. You don’t want him to find out that you’re probably enjoying this more than he is. With both of your hands, you press him down into the mattress in several key spots. He doesn’t complain, so you do it again. Dean has gone so quiet that you think he might’ve fallen asleep. You’re not a massage therapist at all, you’re just doing what feels right. You lower your hands to the hem of his sweatpants and work there for a few moments. Then you slide them up and to the left, and do the same to the other side. You’re getting the hang of it. You’re even focusing on the movements instead of Dean’s gorgeous back.

A/N: If you wish to continue for the adult part, click here.

[tonberrykins]

Y'all. Go play Vampire Therapist. Please, I am begging. It is silly, a little crude, it's fun and 100% not actual therapy.

Like. It's a visual novel and good gravy is it endearing. I can't describe why, but it is. And it's mainly because of the protagonist that the player controls. Sam Walls is Jedediah (of Night at the Museum fame) meets Arthur Morgan (RDR2) and his friends and clients are all their own unique individuals. It's just...really fun.

Please go support it and have some fun doing it.

[janzoo]

Quick and Simple Vampire Therapist Demo Review

Hi folks! I played the demo for Vampire Therapist the other day. Here's the basics and my thoughts/a few screencaps - spoilers within!

The first thing the game shows you is a message saying that while the developers worked with therapists, the game is not a replacement for actual therapy.

TL;DR premise: you are a vampire cowboy (Sam Walls) who wants to help other vampires with their centuries of baggage and trauma via Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT), which he partially figured on his own, and learns the rest from an established vampire therapist (Andromachos).

The demo plays through the first appointments with your first two clients.

It's a visual novel which seems to have some simple mini-games here and there, mainly for (consensual) neck biting. You listen to the client speak, and when prompted, you guess at which cognitive distortions they're falling into (like "Should Statements" or "Disqualifying Positives"). Here's a video from the game studio re: cognitive distortions. You cannot get a wrong answer; if you guess incorrectly, Andromachos telepathically hints you towards the correct answer and you get to try again.

There is no gruesome content/visuals so far. There's a blood splatter visual/sound effect when you get a correct answer, but it's very brief. When you drink blood, you get the neck biting mini-game where you line up a little moving set of fangs over blood vessels in the neck; then it cuts to the humans you drank from saying how great that was but you don't see them, or any blood.

It's quite suggestive. Andromachos's speaks openly and casually of his sex life, there's references to pegging, the goths get real horny about being bitten...Yeah this is not for kids. Adjust your expectations accordingly.

From what I know of CBT (mainly as someone receiving it), the gameplay seems to use very simplified versions of the concepts. Again, not a replacement for actual therapy - but also not a bad place to start, either. I already feel myself thinking of the game system in combination with what my therapist and I have talked about. Sam is becoming my inner good vibes voice - "Hey now, you're disqualifyin' the positives. You did real well, embrace it. :)"

IMO Sam is a very sincere and relatable character in that he's made some big mistakes but he's just trying to do better and help others. That's true of all of us, but we keep thinking that our mistakes are somehow especially terrible, or that any good we do now will always be overshadowed by the bad we did. And so on and so forth. Also, he's a rootin'-tootin' American cowboy now operating out of a German goth nightclub and his struggles with languages other than English is portrayed amusingly lmao.

So yeah, I really enjoyed the experience so far, and I look forward to playing the game proper once it comes out. Fangs for reading, har har har.

Here have some random screenshots with descriptions in the alt text. (This is my first attempt at adding alt text.)

[sarcasmandships]

yellow | paul lahote

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

word count: 3.8k

angst, hurt + minimal comfort

trigger warnings: eating disorder, death, hospital/medical scene, vomit

paul imprinted on y/n nearly a year ago, it wasn’t something he ever wanted. in fact, he tried so hard to fight the imprint at first that he made himself ill.

paul was only just beginning to learn that he couldn’t fight off every problem he encountered. imprinting on y/n had been a harsh awakening for him, and he knew now that he couldn’t punch and kick his way through life.

that didn’t stop him trying though, he stared at the hole he’d just created in the dry wall of his bedroom. he was going to have to buy another poster.

“paul, are you still there?” y/n’s voice was muffled through the phone which lay face down on his bed, “i heard a bang.”

and paul could hear her concern so he snatched the phone and held it up to his ear, “yeah i’m still here don’t worry,” he sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“okay...” she said uncertainly, “are you alright?”

he was clenching his fists, his jaw, and every other muscle in his body, “yeah, yeah i’m fine,” he said, trying to maintain a light and airy tone as much as possible but the words just came out flat, “i should be asking if you’re okay.”

y/n took several minutes to answer, “you don’t need to worry about me paul.”

if only she knew that his entire life now revolved around worrying about her. about wanting to protect her, from the leeches, from every creep and asshole in this town, from every bout of stress or sadness.

“i never do anything else,” he tried to say jokingly, but his voice broke mid-way through the sentence and he punched his mattress.

“look paul...” he could hear her frowning through the phone as she sighed, “i gotta go to my appointment now but I’ll see you later for the bonfire, yeah?”

tears were burning in paul’s eyes as he croaked out a response, “yeah, do you need me to pick you up?”

“it’s all good, i’m going to emily’s first to give her a hand with the food so i’ll go down with her.”

“yeah, sounds great,” he said flatly, “i’ll see you there then.”

“bye paul,” she whispered and hung up the phone.

he launched the phone at the wall, and it shattered into chunks of useless plastic. he held his head in his hands and before he knew it, his whole body was racked with dry sobs.

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

he grabbed a pair of beat-up trainers from under his bed and pulled them on. he thundered downstairs and out the front door, ignoring the protests of his drunken father.

paul ran.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul,’ y/n would tease him.

maybe not, but he couldn’t do anything else because she wouldn’t fucking let him. y/n had always been stubborn but in the last few months she’d become increasingly closed off and defensive. if paul made the slightest attempt to ‘stick his nose where it didn’t belong’ then she’d shut him out for weeks on end.

being apart from her was agonising.

he used to think sam and jared were exaggerating when they talked about the pain of not seeing their imprints. but now he knew it was all too real and he couldn’t stand it, so paul had learned to bite his tongue so she wouldn’t give him the silent treatment.

that was something that did not come easy to him, but it was easier than not seeing her, not talking to her, not being close to her.

paul knew on some level it was selfish to let y/n play out her fantasises and pretend that everything was fine, he knew it was wrong for indulging her. but whenever he tried to confront her, to help her, then she would shut him out again and he couldn’t bare that.

it was raining heavily now, the hail stones battered off his exposed skin as he dove out of sight behind the tree line.

staying calm was not something paul was good at, he had to spend so much of his energy focusing on blocking out his anger and sadness and pain and anguish just to make sure he didn’t shift at an inappropriate moment.

but right now, he could smash through that blockade and let every emotion flood through his body as his flesh ripped and his bones snapped, and he shed his human form to leave a large, grey wolf in his place.

paul relished in the release, it felt good to finally let go of every negative emotion he was holding onto and embrace the wolf inside of him. he ran through the trees, taking in the smell of the wet earth and the salty sea air.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

y/n told him that once after a particularly explosive fight he’d had with his father. they sat on the beach, and she stroked his hair as he laid with his head on her lap. he told her he was going to leave home, she pointed out he had no money, he told her that he’d live in the streets if he had to.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’ she had said, her fingers entangled in his hair.

but y/n didn’t seem to adopt that mentality when it came to her own problems, and paul’s desire to protect her made her problems, his problems. and now he had an overwhelming number of problems that everyone kept telling him he couldn’t run away from, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

he kicked up soil and dead leaves behind him as he ran through the woods, the hailstones has subsided to a light drizzle which still managed to soak his fur. he paused to shake the water off him when he hear someone else’s voice in his head, someone else had shifted.

“hey paul.”

“hey jake.”

paul tried to shut off his inner monologue so that jacob couldn’t hear what he was thinking, he thought he was doing an alright job until-

“rough day, huh?”

paul growled.

“yeah i guess, y/n’s seeing her therapist right now....”

“is she getting better?”

paul could sense the concern in jacob’s thoughts but this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have right now.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

well, what the fuck else was he supposed to do? everyone kept telling him that he couldn’t run away but no one was offering any alternative solutions.

it was always ‘calm down, paul.’

‘you can’t fight your way out of everything, paul.’

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

well why the fuck not?

no one seemed to understand that he wasn’t running for his own sake but for everyone else’s. and most importantly, for y/n’s. it was excruciatingly difficult to keep those thoughts to himself and out of jacob’s mind, so he began running through the trees again to provide some kind of distraction.

“yeah, she’s going over to emily’s first to help out so i’m meeting her there.”

“do you think you might finally tell her tonight? it’s been nearly a year and she still has no idea....”

“she can’t handle it; she’s got enough going o,n i can’t burden her with all of this too.”

that was only part of it. paul was worried about how y/n would take the news that he, and all his friends were shapeshifting wolves that existed to protect the town from vampires. and even more concerning, how would she take the news that he had imprinted on her? y/n was too fragile right now, he had to protect her even if that meant keeping the truth from her.

but beyond that, he was worried that she wouldn’t accept him. paul had a crippling fear of rejection at the best of times, but the prospect of his own imprint rejecting him was unimaginable.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

maybe not forever, but for right now he was going to sprint as fast as he could.

***

the blazing bonfire crackled just meters in front of them and yet y/n was still shivering; paul wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close into his chest. she nuzzled into him and paul was filled with a burst of euphoria at their closeness. her eyes were barely open as she leaned into him, he tightened his grip on her frozen frame.

“are you okay?” he mumbled into her hair, it smelled like lavender.

she nodded slowly, “yeah, i’m just tired, today was pretty rough.”

paul frowned. he wished that they weren’t surrounded by so many people, they were sat a little away from the rest of the group, but they didn’t have the privacy he would’ve liked.

“do you want to talk about it?”

y/n sniffled, when paul looked down at her he saw tears slowly running down her cheeks and his heart shattered.

he pulled her in closer and wiped away the tears, “hey, hey what’s wrong?”

y/n just shook her head, “i don’t want to talk about it.”

‘you can’t run away from your problems, y/n’ he wanted to say.

“are you sure?” he asked hesitantly, desperately wanting to help but also not wanting her to clam up again.

she looked away from him; the glare from the roaring bonfire reflected in her glassy eyes. paul enveloped one of her cold, bony hand in his and squeezed it gently but her frown persisted. there was a hollowness in his chest as he stared at her miserable expression; paul knew he couldn’t punch away anyone’s problems but as it turns out, holding hands is just as ineffective.

“dr charles wants me to go to inpatient treatment,” she said bluntly, “he says my physical health is deteriorating too much.”

something twisted in his gut.

“but i thought you were…getting better?” he said cautiously.

paul knew that was a lie.

y/n knew that was a lie, but she was so good at pretending otherwise she had everyone convinced that she was getting better. everyone but him, and he didn’t want her to know that she wasn’t fooling him with the ‘i’m eating again, i’m doing great’ routine she had become so well-versed in.

“well, i’m not better,” she snapped, pushing paul off her as she leapt to her feet.

superhuman hearing or otherwise, everyone else around the bonfire heard y/n’s exclamation, and their heads snapped over to stare between her and paul. emily began to stand up but paul waved her off and she sat back down next to sam. he approached y/n slowly, tears continued to stream down her face but when he moved to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she pushed him away.

he held up his hands, “okay, okay – i won’t touch you, why don’t we go somewhere quiet to talk-”

“no,” she snapped, “i don’t want to talk paul, all i ever do is fucking talk about my feelings and as long as i say the right things then everyone thinks i’m better, but i’m not fucking better, okay?”

“i know,” he roared back, “i know you’re not better, in fact you’re getting worse. i watch you get sicker every single day, i watch you withering away, i watch you dying and there is nothing that i can do because you won’t let me.”

y/n bit her lip and looked away from him.

tears were burning in paul’s eyes, “i can’t make you better, i can’t make you eat, i can’t look after you and it’s killing me.”

“i never asked you to look after me,” she screamed back, tears flowing freely down her face now, “i don’t know why you think it’s your job to keep me alive but it isn’t-”

“yes, it is!”

paul was shaking now, he was trying to hold onto his humanity with every fibre of his being, but the pain and anger was overwhelming. he was reaching his breaking point. he tried to focus on y/n; she was his anchor and usually the thought of her, focusing on the sound of her heartbeat was enough to calm him down. but usually, she wasn’t the focus is his anger, and now when he looked at her all he saw was how frail and weak she looked.

she was dying and she wouldn’t let him help her.

everyone was staring now; paul didn’t want to be on this beach anymore, he couldn’t deal with this right now. it was all too much; his head was spinning and his limbs were trembling.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam leapt to his feet, ready to jump in and tackle paul to the ground as he lurched towards y/n. but instead of shifting and attacking her, he grabbed her hand and led her away from the bonfire and the rest of the pack.

“paul what are you doing?” y/n asked through chattering teeth.

she didn’t try to fight him off but paul knew this was more likely a sign of her lack of energy, and not her willingness to go with him. they were at the edge of the beach now, where the sand bordered with the rough concrete path that led back towards the heart of la push. paul stopped in his tracks and turned to face y/n as he heard her breathing become increasingly shallow.

he studied her intently, emaciated body, pale lips, hollow cheeks. he could hear her heart beating slowly and irregularly inside her chest, he could see her struggling to catch a breath. despite her weakened body she stared back at him, with a clenched jaw and arms crossed across her chest.

“you can’t run away from your problems, y/n,” he finally said.

she snorted, “i’m not you, paul.”

“no, but you’re my impr-” he stopped himself before he revealed too much and ran a hand through his hair, “you’re my best friend y/n i-”

“no, jared is your best friend,” she said pointedly.

“for god’s sake can you stop being difficult for two damn seconds?” he snapped.

she let out a shrill laugh, “right sorry, i forget i’m just an inconvenience to everyone around here, i should just go.”

paul grabbed her hand before she could turn away from him. he towered over her, but when their eyes met it was like nothing else mattered. in every second of his existence, paul was acutely aware that gravity and the laws of nature didn’t bind him to the earth; she did. and when she looked into his eyes like that it only reminded him that she was his everything, before paul knew it, his anger was melting away and there was nothing but pure euphoria flowing through his body.

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself. but in that moment, nothing else mattered except for the fact that y/n was standing chest to chest with him, and she was staring into his eyes. nothing else mattered; not her anger towards him, her disease, his feelings of helplessness, his fear of rejection.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“do you believe in soulmates, y/n?” he asked breathily.

“what?” she asked; her breath billowed out of her chapped lips and hung visibly in the cool september air, thick, like cigarette smoke.

he took a deep breath; it was now or never.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“y/n, there’s something i have to tell you-”

she was the first to break eye contact with him, her pupils dilated suddenly, and her eyes fluttered shut. she managed to grip onto his bicep lightly as she collapsed, but her hand turned limp and rolled gently onto the sand as she lay unconscious in his arms.

***

“clear!” carlisle hollered.

paul reluctantly dropped y/n’s hand as carlisle pressed the paddles to her chest and sent two hundred volts of electricity searing through her lifeless body.

he frowned at the consistent flatline on the monitor, “push ten of epi and charge again,” he ordered the nurse, resuming chest compressions as he waited for the next round of medication to be administered.

paul grabbed her hand again while he had the chance, she was already turning cold. the blood had drained from her face, and paul couldn’t focus on her heartbeat to calm him because she no longer had one.

“clear!”

they repeated the routine they had been performing for the last several minutes; paul let go of her hand, carlisle shocked her, the flatline remained.

the nurse shook her head, “asystole,” she said flatly.

“what does that mean?” paul asked frantically, he looked between carlisle and y/n, “why aren’t you helping her?”

carlisle retrieved a neuro torch from the pocket of his lab coat, peeling back y/n’s eyelids he shone the light over each of her eyes, “pupil’s are fixed and dilated,” he said to the nurse.

“why are you stopping? fix her!” paul wailed.

“i’m sorry paul, there’s nothing else we can do for her,” he said softly, “time of death, 19.08.”

the nurse nodded and made a note on y/n’s chart before exiting the trauma room, leaving just paul, sam, and carlisle in the room with y/n’s lifeless body.

paul didn’t cry, or scream, or phase into a giant wolf. he stood by y/n’s bedside, clutching her hand in his and staring straight ahead at the monitor she was attached to. it continued to let out a continuous, monotone beep. sam, who was just waiting for paul to explode, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder; paul didn’t have the energy to push him away.

“bring her back,” he croaked.

carlisle looked between paul and sam, “i am very sorry for your loss, paul, but there is nothing else i can do, she’s gone-”

“well bring her back!” he roared, falling to his knees as he continued to clutch y/n’s hand, “you fix her, you bring her back, you change her i don’t care-”

“you know i can’t do that-”

“yes, you can. you’ve done it before, change her i don’t care if she’s a vampire just bring her back,” he sobbed.

“paul, we can’t violate the treaty,” sam barked.

“i don’t give a fuck about the treaty,” he turned his head to snarl at sam, “bring her back right now doc or i swear to god i will-”

“i am very sorry paul, but even if i wanted to change her i couldn’t, it’s too late. there are some things even venom can’t fix, even if i tried the venom wouldn’t be able to circulate her body without a heartbeat.”

paul rose from his knees and dropped y/n’s hand. he was robotic as he began chest compressions, despite protests from carlisle. sam tried to pull paul’s arms away from y/n, but he shoved him off roughly and continued to rhythmically administer cpr.

“paul, you need to stop,” carlisle said, “she’s gone – that isn’t going to help her.”

he ignored him.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’.

he wasn’t running anymore.

for once in his life paul was facing his problem head on.

he wasn’t running anymore.

he was doing what everyone always wanted, and yet sam and carlisle were trying to stop him.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam and carlisle winced as there was an audible crack.

“you’re breaking her ribs, paul,” carlisle said, attempting to remove paul’s hands from y/n’s body but he flinched away from the vampire’s icy touch.

carlisle looked at sam pleadingly; sam nodded briefly at him before reaching forward and attempting to drag paul away from y/n’s body. he resisted, struggling against sam’s grip as he maintained the rhythmic compressions. his vision blurred in front of him, refusing to take on the scene before him.

he never got a chance to tell her about the imprint.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

she never regained consciousness after she collapsed.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

he never got to say goodbye.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

he never got to tell her he loved her.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam was dragging him backwards, away from y/n; his rigid grip kept paul’s arms pinned to his sides and stopped him from reaching out to cling to y/n.

paul couldn’t breathe.

everything was spinning.

the harsh, fluorescent hospital lights burned his watery eyes; he wanted nothing more than to sink down into darkness till he could awake from this nightmare.

y/n couldn’t be dead.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“someone will need to contact her family, they will need to make arrangements,” carlisle commented quietly, “ i will call them myself if you give me the number.”

“this is my fault,” paul choked out.

“what?”

“it’s my fault,” his voice caught in his throat, “i let her slowly kill herself because i didn’t want her shut me out.”

“y/n was sick for a long time paul-” carlisle began.

“and i could’ve fixed her, but i was too selfish to let her go and now she’s gone forever.”

his knuckles turned white as he gripped the metal pole that ran along the side of y/n’s bed, he couldn’t bring himself to look at her body.

sam placed a hand on his shoulder, “there’s nothing you could’ve done paul, you already did everything you could for her - you can’t love someone back together.”

“what if it was emily?” paul snarled, “would you be so calm and condescending if it was your imprint lying dead in front of you?”

paul’s heart pounded in his chest, he was still unable to look at her. he wanted to remember her alive and breathing, not like this.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“if you’ll excuse me, i should get started on some paperwork,” carlisle said quietly.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

“c’mon paul, you should get out of here.”

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

his eyes flickered up, and the sight of y/n’s corpse sent acidic vomit bubbling up his throat and into his mouth. he turned sharply on his heel and choked out his stomach contents into a bin in the corner.

after he composed himself paul did what he did best.

he ran.

[stillebesat]

The Green Gremlin

Danny Phantom: Danny, Dash Blurb: The Ghost reflects the person. Dash had heard that somewhere and after tonight...the thirty-sixth freaking time he’d been turned green...he knew it was right. There was something fundamentally wrong with him. Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Overall Fic Warnings: Past Bullying Talk, Mind Control mention

Dash had no idea how long the hole in the fence of the Fenton’s backyard had been there and at this point he didn’t care.

Considering he’d found it back in the beginning of sophomore year...and it was still here nearly two years later...he doubted the Fenton Parents even knew it existed since it was hidden behind their shed.

After all, ghosts didn’t exactly need holes to get anywhere. They could just phase through solid objects--ones that didn’t have a ghost shield protecting them at least.

He hissed under his breath, shoving himself through the opening, purposely ignoring how his shoulders--which had nearly gotten him stuck in the hole a month ago at his last visit--didn’t stop him this time.

Intangibility.

Dash gritted his teeth, shoving his way along the gap between shed and fence into the main backyard.

He knew there would be no one home even with the late hour, considering the Fentons were still dealing with the aftermath of yet another ghost army invasion that had compromised most of the student body at Casper High. Fentina--Danny should also still be somewhere on the school grounds with his two weirdo friends, and with his old tutor, Jazz, off at college...it would be quiet here for a while yet.

Not that it would have mattered if they had been home. He’d yet to see anyone come back here unless someone was trying to get Fentroid fit enough to pass yet another fitness test. And that had only happened twice.

Dash reached the brick wall, his fingers--still green tinged from his unfortunate...change today--brushed the rough surface before he placed his back to the wall, sliding down so that the overgrown bush nearby hid most of him from view.

He let out a slow breath, ducking his head against his knees, feeling the hum of whatever protective shields the Fentons had on the building resonating through the wall and matching the burning throb in his chest as he ran slightly pointed nails through his hair.

Another ghost invasion. Another...transformation where the attacking ghost had done something to bring out the more ghostly natures of the student body to make things all the more difficult for Phantom.

And once again...Dash had been changed into that horrible green skinned gremlin ghost creature.

“It’s not fair.” He whispered, fingers flinching away from the pointed tips of his ears.

The Ghost reflects the person. He’d heard that somewhere...probably from Mr. Lancer, and after like the third incident where he’d ended up green...Dash had begun to think there was something to that thought. After tonight...the thirty-sixth freaking time he’d been turned green...he knew it was right.

There was something fundamentally wrong with him.

None of the others, in the dozenish times they had been affected, held such a consistent ghost form when they were altered, changed, or manipulated to be something else rather than human. Whether it was becoming like ghostly Vampires, Sirens, Multi-Colored Blobs, Cyborgs, or various WereCreatures, his classmates had experienced it all.

But Dash?

He remained the green gremlin.

Nothing more. Nothing less. Sure the size of his gremlin form might shift depending on the ghost doing the changing and his...well...anger issues that day.

But overall...Green. Green. Green.

The Ghost reflects the person.

And since halfway through sophomore year Dash had been trying to change that reflection. Be better.

He’d stopped taking out his...issues on the dweebs at school--especially Fen--Danny.

He’d gone to see a therapist.

He’d worked on improving his grades and study habits.

He’d tried to branch out in his hobbies. Sewing, Screenwriting, a disastrous attempt at Acting and yah, just trying anything else he had a slight interest in that wasn’t a sport. That wasn’t football.

...and yet.

He dropped a hand to his chest, rubbing at the burning sensation that no amount of Tums or Tylenol could get rid of and only seemed to grow stronger with every ghastly change he’d been forced into.

He closed his eyes, running his tongue over his sharpened teeth, feeling most of the points finally beginning to shrink. “One more year.”

If he could just survive senior year in this hellscape then…then....

He didn’t know. Colleges only wanted him for his football skills.

Football skills that he should just stop using because that seemed to bring out the worst of the Green Gremlin when the ghosts attacked.

He’d destroyed yet another uniform -his third this year- today at the game when he’d become the freaking Hulk and smashed his way through the bleachers to try and catch the annoying fly that he hadn’t realized was Phantom until after his Hero had burst free from his grip and sent him flying over the school to land face first in the grass by the flagpole.

It was a move that had placed him far out of range of the ghostly lady-like creature who had changed him in the first place, freeing him from her control. Allowing him to run like the coward he was away from the fight and his classmates and get...human again.

Dash let out another shuddering breath, trying to focus on the hum coming from the Fenton’s home as he rested his head on his knees. Trying to ground himself like the therapist had suggested.

He was safe here.

No ghosts dared to attack Fentonworks directly. Not when it housed the only stable portal in the area.

No one would come here to hurt him. To hunt him.

He just needed to wait until the last dredges of these ghost alterations left his body and then he could go home.

Go home to where his Dad would be furious that he didn’t stick it out. Didn’t win the freaking football game.

Like a ghost attack wouldn’t have forced them to reschedule anyways.

It wasn’t like that mattered to his Father though. He only ever cared about football when he wasn’t off traveling for one of his stupid work trips. Nothing more. Nothing less. His Dad hadn’t even noticed that Dash had grown out his hair to cover his ears because they’d remained pointed since Thanksgiving break and he couldn’t hide them any other way. He hadn’t noticed how Dash barely smiled anymore to hide the stupid fangs that had stuck around after the last change. He hadn’t noticed---alot. He’d come home once with his skin still green tinged and his Dad thought he’d been trying to fake an illness to get out of practice instead of recovering from another Ghost Attack.

Dash pressed his hands to his chest, again fruitlessly massaging at the burning ache there.

One more year.

One. More. Year. And he could move out of this place. Get far away from his Dad. From the Ghosts. And hopefully forget this whole gremlin nightmar---

“Dash?”

Dash jerked at the unexpected voice, hissing as he smacked the back of his head against the bricks. Great. Hello headache. Not that he didn’t already probably have a concussion from how hard he’d face planted in the dirt earlier. But still.

“...Dash?” The voice was softer. More cautious. Like the tone you’d use to try and soothe a wild animal trapped in a corner. “You...uh? Okay?”

Dash snorted, resting his head back on his knees so he could better rub the back of it and avoid looking at the speaker--at Danny. “Sure.” He gritted his teeth at the demonic growl that still was his voice. Please let that not be a permanent change this time. “I’m. Just. Fine.”

“You uh...don’t look fine.”

Nooo really? He hadn’t noticed. Dash flexed his fingers, feeling the claws still present, which meant his skin was probably still ghost colored.

Great. Fenton probably thought he was still mind controlled. Why was he even home? Or better yet. Out here? There was no reason to come back here at night--even so, he’d thought that he’d be hidden from view!

Dash exhaled, turning his head to the side, looking up to see his one time punching bag sitting on the back steps, bright blue eyes staring right at him. “I’m fine.” He repeated, hiding a wince as his chest burned hotter for a second. “Just….catching my breath.”

Danny frowned, slipping off the side of the steps to crouch in front of him. “Here? Why? My parents--”

“I KNO--” Dash flinched, groaning as Danny jerked back. He half uncurled, lightly tapping his aching head against the bricks as he closed his eyes. “I know.” He repeated in a softer growl. “They haven’t looked back here yet though. I’ll be...fine...in a minute. I won’t attack you.”

“Here yet---wait you’ve come here before? Why?”

Shouldn’t Fenton be more concerned about Dash still being well….ghostly? Or hurting him? Sure, Danny had stopped running away at the first sign of a ghost attack forever ago, finally taking after his parents in a way. He’d often seen Danny running around with Sam and Tucker helping Phantom with capturing ghosts---liked they’d done tonight. The three of them working together in tandem to keep the football team from rampaging off the field before the Fentons got there.

...Maybe Danny being back from the game already wasn’t that odd actually now that he thought about it. If Fenton was returning with a full thermos of spirits to send back in the Ghost Zone and one of his parent’s devices happened to sensed a ghost nearby---

Dash gave a one shoulder shrug, opting to look at his green tinged hands instead of at Fen---Danny’s face. “Feels...safe here. I guess. No ghosts attack it at least.”

“It feels safe.” Danny repeated an odd note to his voice.

What was he? A parrot? “Yes.” He bit out, clenching his hands before relaxing them. Anger wouldn’t help. It would only make him revert. He drew in a slow measured breath. “What’s the big deal Fent--Danny?”

Danny chuckled and shifted so he too was sitting with his back against the wall of his home. “The fact that you feel safe at my house? The place practically screams stay away to people, Dash, what with the big old Ops center on top and the threat of my Dad causing something to explode here every other day.”

Okay...yah...that...yah. Dash made a face, rubbing his aching chest. “Your sister tutored me here twice a week until she left. Maybe I’m just used to it.”

Danny made a skeptical noise, drumming his fingers on his knees. “It’s probably the increased ectoplasmic radiation here.” He remarked conversationally. “My parents thought they had it contained to the basement...but I can feel it seeping through the bricks. A neutral source of energy coming from the portal, like a recharging station at a cafe but for ghosts instead of laptops.”

A recharging station? For ghosts? Was that the humming sound? Not a shield? No. No. It couldn’t--and he--he---Dash shot to his feet, nearly stumbling into the bushes as his shredded sneakers briefly lost contact with the ground. “NO. I can’t--”

Danny reached out with a surprisingly firm grip, pulling him back down. “Hey, hey. It’s okay--”

Dash growled, hating how feral he sounded as he jerked free, backing--floating--away from Fen--Danny and the house... “I’m not a Ghost, Fenton! I can’t recharge--I can’t--” Crap. His voice was only getting more demonic because he was getting upset. He grabbed his football jersey as he roughly hit the ground, falling to his knees by the shed, clawed fingers digging into the ruined fabric as he struggled to breathe. Ectoradiation. Had he been making the problem worse this entire time? He thought hanging out here was safe! That it would help him get back to normal!

“Hey.” A cold hand squeezed his shoulder.

Dash growled, hunching further in on himself. “I can’t--I don’t want to be this! I’ve been trying to change! And it’s not working. I’m just making it wors--”

“Dash.” Danny placed his pale hand over Dash’s green one before moving it to rest on his chest, right over the burning ache like a cooling balm. “Hey.” He repeated softly. “You’re okay, you’re not a ghost.”

Wasn’t he though? After thirty-six freaking alterations, was he even human anymore? Dash gave a ragged laugh, chest burning hotter under his touch. “Fe--Danny, I’m green.”

Danny hummed, hand feeling all the colder as he tilted his head, frowning as he gave him the once over. “Not your best look, I agree, but you’re not a ghost.” He gave him a half smile, eyes sparking with silent humor. “Trust me. I’d know.”

“Ha.” He couldn’t though. Dash squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on Danny’s hand on his chest, on just breathing. “You can’t know that.” He whispered. “It doesn’t all just go away when the ghost does, Fenton. Not anymore.”

Compared to the rest of the student body, Danny had barely been changed a handful of times. How could he know how ghostly or not ghostly Dash was? Even Fenton’s parents had been wrong more than once on that account.

Danny’s fingers twitched. “...What doesn’t go away?” He asked, an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before.

Danger.

Dash flinched, pushing Danny’s hand away, ignoring how his chest twinged as he moved back to his feet. He had to get out of here. “Nothing.” Fenton was the son of Ghost Hunters after all. He now helped Phantom capture the bad ghosts. How would he react if he saw how Dash had changed? The pointed ears? The fangs? The whatever else tonight’s attack would permanently alter. Maybe his skin would stay green this time. “It’s noth--”

“It’s not nothing.” Danny’s voice was quiet as he too stood, flexing his fingers. “There is an echo to you. Not enough to be ghostly, but far too much to be just regular contamination like the other students have.”

Dash gritted his teeth, shaking his head. He already knew that.

“Dash.” Fenton’s voice was soft. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Why would you want to?” Dash retorted, glaring at the shed, claws digging into his palms as he clenched his hands. “I’m just the bully am I not?” He hadn’t shoved a nerd into a locker in forever, but that didn’t stop them from side-eyeing him and shying away whenever he walked by...especially on a bad day.

Danny huffed. “You’ve hardly been that. We may not...hang out...but I have noticed the change. You’ve been...well...” He stepped into view rubbing the back of his neck, “good, man.”

Ha. “Not good enough.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Dash made a face, gesturing to himself once more, though he could already tell his skin was returning to its normal color. Finally. “I’m always like this, F--Danny. Thirty-six freaking times,” His chest burned as Fenton’s eyes widened. “I’ve been altered by ghosts and I always look like this. None of the others do if you haven’t noticed. They always look different with each attack. But me? I don’t--I’m just---Green.”

He should stop talking. Let it go. It wasn’t like Fenton cared what was going off with his one-time bully.

Yet...He needed to tell someone. Anyone. What he was dealing with. It wasn’t like he could go to Star or Paulina. Not even his best bud Kwan. They couldn’t understand this. They didn’t have to live with the permanent weird.

Fenton did though. His parents had been weird his entire life with their ghost obsesion.

Danny frowned. “So? It’s not like it’s perm--”

“Permanent?” Dash gave a bitter laugh, brushing his hair away from his ears to reveal the points. “Tell that to my ears. To my fangs.” He bared his teeth, ignoring the shiver that ran down his spine as Fenton bristled and bared his teeth right back.

Were Danny’s teeth more...pointed?--No. It was a trick of the light. Fenton couldn’t have fangs too. Dash growled, hands clenching as he heard a slight rumble come from Danny in response. “If those have already changed in me then how much longer before the ghost’s contamination permanently changes my voice, Fenton? My eyes? Will I keep the green skin next time?! Will I permanently remain a ghost and never change back one day? I don’t freaking know and it scares me!”

Because he was the only one. No one else could understand.

Danny shook his head, his defensive stance relaxing as he raised a hand. “Dash, I--”

Dash crossed his arms, glaring at his one time punching bag. “Don’t you dare tell me you understand or some sort of sentimental crap! You’ve been altered by ghosts like what? Three times? How could you even understand? How could anyone understand when none of the others have to deal with this either? Even though they’ve been changed a dozen times, they’re still able to be normal because they never look exactly the same under the various ghosts attacking us. Nothing sticks for them. But me?” He kicked at the grass, already regretting letting his emotions get the better of him, for revealing his...fears to Danny of all people. “I’m always just a violent green gremlin and I hate it, Fenton. I hate it. I’ve tried to change to stop it. Be a better person. And yet I always end up looking exactly--” he swallowed, roughly brushing over his eyes, hating how hot and wet they felt as he finally broke eye contact. “The same.” He whispered.

“It’s not--” Danny cleared his throat, stepping forward to place his hand back over the ache in Dash’s chest. “It’s not...bad to have a consistent ghost form, you know.” He said, giving a one shoulder shrug. “To have the same abilities. To not worry about what power you might accidentally unleash next.” His hand seemed to grow colder on Dash’s chest, drawing the heat away. “I’ve heard people talking. In school. About how they hate that they don’t know what they’ll end up being when the next ghost comes.”

Dash shakily exhaled, leaning into Fenton’s hand despite himself. Kwan had mentioned something like that before today’s game too. How he wished he could just stick with duplicating as his power like Dash was stuck with being a gremlin.

“You’re lucky in that sense.” Danny said in a low voice. “Even if you don’t like being the--” He raised his free hand to make quotation marks. “‘Green Gremlin’ At least you know what to expect when a ghost attacks. It gives you the uhh...field? Yah. Field advantage.”

He--he had a point. Dash did know what to expect. The only thing he had to adjust for was his size. Otherwise...everything else remained the same. He slowly looked up. “Doesn’t mean I like it. Or that I’m any good.” Dash grimaced. “I mean, I attacked Phantom! My hero! Who does that?”

Danny smirked, eyes glinting, reflecting the green glow coming off of Dash’s skin. “You were mind controlled. The entire football team went after him in case you didn’t notice, you just happened to reach him first. I think he understands.”

Dash scoffed, resting clawless fingers on Danny’s hand. “Does he?”

Fenton hummed, surprisingly at ease for being in the presence of his one-time bully. Of course, Fenton had bulked up a bit since freshman year. Gotten taller. Become more of a fighter with Phantom. He wouldn’t be that easy to push around anymore on a normal day if Dash were still the type to shove nerds into their lockers.

“You didn’t continue attacking. You left. That says something.” Danny said, putting slight pressure on Dash’s chest, urging him to take a step back.

Back towards the Fenton’s home. To the...freaking recharging wall.

Dash tightened his grip on Danny’s hand, the ache in his chest fading more the closer they got to the red bricks. “That I’m a coward.”

He shook his head. “That you’re smart. You got out of her control. You came to a safe place to recover.”

Like the Fenton house was actually safe. Danny had been right in pointing that out. No one in their right mind would come here.

So why had he? He shook his head. “If I was any good then I should have fought with Phantom, Danny. Not gone running off!”

Danny raised an eyebrow, pulling his hand free. “Then why don’t you?”

“Huh?”

He shrugged, moving past Dash to scoop up a familiar battered Fenton Thermos from the steps, fiddling with it. “You know what’s going to happen to you right? You Hulk it out. Why don’t you use that knowledge to help Phantom fight other ghosts next time?”

Dash frowned, absently rubbing chest as he looked up at the shadowy ops center perched overhead. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it multiple times. It just-- “I...figured I’d just get in the way.” He admitted, running fingers through his hair, relaxing as he felt the last of the ghostliness leave his body. “I mean, you know how it is, Danny, if we’re altered then it usually means we’re controlled in some way. Sent to attack. Cause destruction and chaos. Why would Phantom trust any of us, let alone me, to help?”

Even though they’d all taken ghostly defense classes. Even though most of them carried a Fenton weapon of some sort that could take down the weaker ghosts. Even then, only Fentina and his friends were allowed by Phantom to get close in a major ghost fight and even so they ran mostly interference. Damage control.

Danny hummed, bouncing the thermos in one hand as he rubbed the back of his neck with the other. “Point. He does tend to...work alone.”

“Exactly.” Dash took a seat on the steps, hunching his shoulders as he felt the hum of the building resonating through his hands. “And me bumbling into a fight with fists swinging would hardly help him.”

“Well…” Danny settled on the steps next to him, placing the Thermos by their feet. “No...probably not.”

That’s what he thought. Still...it was something to reconsider. Especially if he could convince Fenton to give Phantom the heads up that Dash wanted to try and help--

He exhaled, running fingers through his hair, lingering on the tips of his ears. He’d have to check in the mirror when he got home, but it didn’t feel like anything had permanently changed this time.

“Do they hurt?”

“Mmm?” Dash tilted his head.

Danny gestured to him, looking for a moment like his old awkward freshman self. “Your ah...teeth? The ears? You said both had changed right? Do they hurt?”

Oh. Right. He had brought that up hadn’t he? Dash exhaled, resting his head on his knees. “No. Not now. In the beginning, sure. But not now.”

“That’s...good. That they don’t hurt anymore. I--umm...what did you...ah...use for them? To stop the pain?”

Why did it matter? It wasn’t like they hurt anymore. It wasn’t like anyone else--Dash blinked, breath catching in his throat as he abruptly sat up, whirling to Danny. His teeth. He knew they hadn’t looked normal. But how?! “Let me see.”

Danny stiffened, a wary glint of green in his eyes.

Only Dash’s skin was no longer green. Where was his green glow coming from?

“See what? I was just asking a question.”

“One you shouldn’t care about unless you are having the same problem, Fenton.” Dash said, jabbing a finger at him, heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

Not alone. Was he seriously not alone in this? If Fenton!! If there were two of them instead of just him--even if it was Danny, it was someone else. It was-- Dash raked his eyes over Fenton, taking all of him in. Noting all the little changes that he hadn’t noticed before. That no one seemed to have noticed, like the fact that his hair was shaggier than it used to be. Not quite as long as Dash’s hair, but definitely hiding the ears. “Kwan, my best friend, never ever asked me what I used to stop it when I casually brought it up. Why would you ask me unless you have the same problem?” Dash said, trying and probably totally failing at keeping the desperation out of his voice. “Show me.”

Danny bit his lip, deliberately not showing any teeth with the motion, his eyes darting to the darkened yard, then away. “Seriously, Dash--”

Dash growled, hands clenching on the stairs to keep him from hitting something. “Please, Danny. Show. Me.” He had to know. Know he wasn’t the only one. “It’s not like anyone comes back here. Trust me. I know. Besides, your parents will be off decontaminating the school for forever again, if you’re that worried about them seeing.”

Danny flinched.

Ah. So it was something like that then. Dash leaned forward like a bloodhound sensing...well blood. “My Dad doesn’t know either.” He said, quietly. “I get it. Like...how do you explain this to them? Especially when they refuse to listen. If it’s not about football my Dad tunes it out.”

“They only ever talk about eradicating ghosts.” Danny mumbled, running his fingers over his left palm, tracing some invisible pattern. “Never about studying them. Learning from them. Just...how their next greatest weapon will defeat them or permanently get rid of them. It’s not like they want to---”

“See that their son is becoming more ghostly?”

Danny stiffened, a flicker of green appearing around his fingers before vanishing as he let out a slow breath. “Sure...something like that.”

Oh. “That...sucks man.” Dash rested his chin on his hand, eyes flicking between Fenton’s face and his fingers. Ecto energy. Was that why Danny had said he could feel the ectoradiation coming from his home?

Or was it a new Fenton invention that they hadn’t yet introduced to the public to help fight against ghosts?

He frowned, looking away. “I...well I get it. Being scared to tell them. I’ve been on the wrong end of their weapons more than once. It’s not fun.”

Danny hunched his shoulders, rubbing at his own chest. “Yah. I--yah. Most days it feels like they only care that I’m following in their footsteps...hunting ghosts...but beyond that? Beyond the next ghost attack? It’s like good ectoenergy doesn’t exist to them. Or shouldn’t exist. That it’s just bad pretending to be good and should be torn apart. Molecule by Molecule. So it won’t hurt anyone.”

Dash shuddered. Oh yah. He’d heard that particular speech from Jack Fenton before. He’d had nightmares for weeks. How could he have thought that he’d had it rough with his Dad and his football obsession when Danny probably heard that speech on a daily basis? When Dash had seen how they had all those weapons lying around the house, ready to be picked up and shot in the blink of an eye at the merest hint that a ghost was nearby. And Danny lived there. If he was experiencing ghost changes too….How would his parents actually react if it came out that their son had fallen victim to the ectoradiation they, the number one Ghost Hunters of Amity Park, claimed they were protected from?

Not good judging by Danny’s reluctance to admit that there was anything wrong with him in the first place.

Or it could just be his bad history with Fenton. Showing your weakness to a bully--even a former one--probably went against instinct.

“Well...if you...ah...need to tell anyone. Or get some help.” Dash offered, rubbing at his own chest, at the hollowness he could feel. Maybe he had jumped the gun there. Desperate to believe that he wasn’t the only one. That there was someone else who would understand. “You already saw my fangs...so I kinda know...things. Like there’s some creams at my place you could grab...you know...if you are having the same problem. I’d understand what’s going on a bit more than your parents would.”

Maybe. He didn’t know them that well. Maybe he was just projecting his own problems onto Fenton again.

“Mmm. I---” Danny exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, before nodding to himself, turning to face him. “You’re right, Dash.” He said, his eyes glowing a bright neon green as his lip slowly lifted in a half smile, revealing the gleaming tip of a fang. “You would understand.”

[abarbaricyalp]

@sambuckylibrary

SamBucky Halloween Prompt 5: Mausoleum

Sam meets Bucky in a mausoleum in Brooklyn  (This fic is set in Brooklyn because I could not make up a reason for Bucky to be in Louisiana despite the fact that I really very badly wanted it set in Louisiana. Bucky is also slightly younger because of fic reasons.)

Rated G: Discussions of death and loss (It’s set in a mausoleum, use discretion) (AO3 link in the notes)

Title from “Little Ghost” by The White Stripes, highly encourage you to listen to the song

One I’m Most Scared Of

Sam hated funerals. He hated that his father wanted him around for them. No other seventeen year old was surrounded by so much death and mourning.

“Sam, you have a gift,” his father said. “You put others at ease just by your presence.”

Sam thought everyone else should invest in a therapist and not a high schooler.

Petulantly, he kicked his heels back against a stone bench as he stared at the walls of crypts and cremains spots. Behind him, the funeral party milled and offered condolences to the bereaved, which actually seemed like everyone in the party. Sometimes, a funeral party seemed less bereaved than relieved at these things. Sam remembered the first time he heard a man’s daughter immediately plan lunch with a group of friends without a waver to her voice or a tear on her cheek. He vowed he’d never be the kind of person that had a funeral like that.

If he even had a funeral. Putting himself in the ground in whatever clothes he died in and then becoming a tree without telling anyone was becoming a nicer and nicer option.

So, he listened to the sniffling without turning around and thought about what kind of tree he’d become. He’d already done his duties of rubbing a wife’s arm, hugging kids, tickling grandkids, listening to the same three stories a dozen times. His father couldn’t expect anything else from him. So he wasn’t thrilled when someone his age sat down beside him.

The guy was handsome in a traditional, classical sort of way. Not as boring as the rich white guys who went to Sam’s school. His hair was side parted and only long enough to make an impressive arch on his head instead of laying in his face. He had a square jaw that was a little comical and his nose was a little fucked up in a kind of endearing way. The way Sam’s best friend looked after getting beaned in the face by a wayward baseball. Like most people who came through the mausoleum, he was sad.

There was no other word for it. Sam had tried to be poetic about his time in the crypts, but there was only so much the clinical-ness of bereaved and the dramatic-ness of tortured or sobbing or anguished could do. And they were rarely entirely true. Sad was just the word for people staring at remains of someone they once loved. Sometimes the simple explanation was the most appropriate. The rest of death and grief was already so complicated. It was easier to just feel sad.

The guy was too old to be a grandkid but too young to be a kid, unless the deceased and his wife had gotten freaky in their elder age. Sam hadn’t noticed him in his previous passes of the party or from the service, where he always sat in the back and made it a game to memorize as many shades of black or ridiculous hair styles as possible.

In fact, the boy wasn’t even wearing black. He was wearing a dark brown jacket, adorned with gold accents and pins. In fact… Sam was pretty certain it was an old military dress uniform.

“Uh...are you just visiting?” Sam ventured when the guy didn’t even bother to glance over.

The guy’s mouth quirked to one side faintly. “Yeah, you could say that. That one,” he said, gesturing to an entombment with a gravemarker that read James Buchanan Barnes March 10, 1922 - February 5, 1942. Son, Brother, Friend, Hero.

“Oh,” Sam breathed and understood the weird military uniform. “Are you related to him? You do kinda look like him.”

The guy turned finally to look at Sam and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you could say that. I’m Bucky.”

“Oh, jeez, you were named after him too.”

The guy--Bucky 2, apparently--cocked his head in a half nod. “I’m actually waiting on someone. Do you think they’ll be here much longer?” he asked, jerking his chin over to the party.

“Well, these things don’t really have a limit to how long people can be here,” Sam pointed out. “But most people get the point when they start sealing the tomb and all. Uh, this thing you’re waiting for, is it about him? Like, some kind of memorial service?”

It was neither February nor March, so Sam couldn’t imagine why there would be a memorial service for Barnes now. It had been a while since Sam’s father had done a service in Brooklyn and he’d kind of forgotten the cult status Barnes and,  to a much greater extent, Rogers had in this town.

“Nah, I’m just waiting on a friend,” Bucky said.

“Well…” Sam settled back against the stone bench. “I’ll stand in for a while.”

“You wanna be my friend? Should I be worried. I think horror movies start off like this.”

“Name one horror movie that starts off in a mausoleum.” 

“Murder by the Clock. Mummy’s Tomb. All the vampire movies.”

“Dracula doesn’t live in a mausoleum,” Sam argued lightly. “And I’ve never even heard of those other movies.”

“That’s ‘cause you don’t watch classics.”

“Uh-huh. Or you were just scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and knocked his shoulder against Sam’s. “Did you know…” He gestured back to the waning funeral party.

Sam shook his head. “No. My dad’s the pastor. He did the service. He likes me to be here for moral support.”

“Hell, I don’t think my parents trusted my morals as far as they could throw me,” Bucky snorted.

Sam noted the past tense but knew better than to push for information, especially in a mausoleum during a funeral of all places. “Are you a student around here?” he asked instead.

“Can’t you tell?” Bucky answered as he popped the lapels of his jacket. “I’m a soldier.”

“Right. A soldier who’s home, spending his time in mausoleums in front of his great-great uncle or something.”

“I could be a great-great grandkid. I heard he got around.”

“I heard that was all manufactured propaganda to sell a story.”

“I read it in a book.”

“And I read about time travel and aliens in a book.”

Bucky shrugged. “There are weirder things out there.”

“Right, in a world of super soldiers and Nazis with no faces,” Sam agreed drily.

“You’ll see,” Bucky assured. “Aliens and time travel are both gonna be all anyone talks about soon.”

“Y’know, I didn’t think a guy dressing up as his great-great grandpa-uncle to meet someone at his burial site would be so into sci-fi too.”

“Multitudes and all that. You know, there were half a dozen sci-fi books in his bag when his belongings were recovered.”

“I’ve heard that,” Sam said. Only because it’d been a point in the Oscar-Bait movie a few years ago. “He’d read to Rogers when he was sick.”

Bucky looked a little wistful and then nodded.”I’ve heard that too.”

“Do you ever feel pressure to be like him? Or be somethin’ you’re not, just ‘cause someone looked at your little baby face and named you after a legend?”

That wry, sad grin came back and Bucky shook his head. “Nah. Not really. Do you, though? I mean, obviously not him. But someone.”

Sam traced out the letters of the name of someone who died in 1985. A L E X A N D E R. He nodded. “Feels like everyone needs me to be someone and I let myself play that part until people stopped noticing it was a part.”

“What’s the part?” Bucky asked as he leaned back on his hands.

“I dunno. Someone who-- Well, I mean… Maybe it’s not a full part. Maybe I’m just upset that people only want me to have one kind of personality trait. I mean, everyone knows I’m kind and I’m good with words and I care about people. And I really do want to be that guy. But when I want to be that guy, y’know? Not all the time. Sometimes I want to cry and scream and rage too. Sometimes I want to be quiet for a little while and not help someone else. Just for a few hours.”

Bucky nodded and stared at the rows of internments  before them. “Y’know. I’m sure people would understand that if you told them. If you said, ‘I can’t do this right now. Please let me be quiet.’”

“I know that,” Sam said softly. He tangled his fingers together in his lap. “Maybe I’m mostly angry at myself for not being able to say something like that. I’m the guy who helps. If I don’t do that, if I beg a day off, then who am I? What am I bringing to the table?”

Bucky scooted closer and put a hand on Sam’s knees. It sent a jolt through Sam’s body and he worked very hard on not jerking his gaze up to Bucky’s face. “Sam, you just said you have other personality traits, other feelings, other hobbies that aren’t hanging out in a mausoleum. That’s what you bring to the table on the days you can’t be there for everyone else.”

Sam nodded and reached up to rub two fingers under his eye. He wasn’t at full tears yet, but he also didn’t want to get any closer. “Wait, did I tell you my name?” he asked suddenly.

Bucky lifted an eyebrow again. “You must’ve. Or someone else said it earlier. The point is, you’re still you. And you bring smarts and humor and a good head around, even when you aren’t offering free therapy or a crying shoulder. And, Sam, listen, even when you don’t want to be any of that, you’re still kind. I’ve only been sitting here for a few minutes and you’ve been kind the whole time, even when you weren’t trying. It’s not a part you’re playing. Just be who you are and ask for your time when you need it. If people reflect even a quarter of the love you put out there back at you, no one will ever begrudge you some quiet.”

Sam swallowed thickly and leaned against Bucky’s shoulder heavily. Bucky moved his hand from Sam’s knee to wrap his arm around his ribs instead. “You really think I’m funny and smart?” Sam asked eventually.

“You started spouting off propaganda theories and joking about where vampires technically live. Yeah, you’re something else, man,” Bucky laughed. “And I think you’re beautiful, which people always appreciate in people they hang around with.”

Sam rolled his eyes and ignored the last comment, thankful that his skin was dark enough to hide his blush and Bucky couldn’t see the swooping of his stomach. “Well, if you think that’s impressive, I’ve got a whole list of things I think are propaganda.”

“I’d love to hear all about it some other time.”

“Is your friend here?” Sam asked, sitting back a little and glancing around.

Bucky’s eyes cast around the mausoleum briefly too. “No. I just don’t feel like listening to any propaganda tonight,” he joked.

Sam jostled his elbow into Bucky’s rib and leaned back against his side. “I can’t remember the last time I actually talked to someone in one of these things. Everything’s always so surface level here. ‘Sorry for your loss’ ‘He was a good man’ ‘Of course we’ll come by the benefit.’ None of it means anything.”

“Well, I wasn’t part of the funeral, so maybe that was a plus. I’m just some guy. Hanging out in a mausoleum.”

“Ah, you’re the vampire,” Sam said with a grin. “Maybe I should get a stake in that casket.”

“There’s no body in it,” Bucky reminded him. “They never found Rogers’ or Barnes’ body.”

“Right, right. The train and plane.”

“It’s just for show,” Bucky said. He reached out to trace his fingers along Barnes’ last name and then held his palm against the stone for a second longer.

Sam put his hand on Bucky’s knee and said quickly, like ripping a bandaid off, “Do you want to get lunch or something? With me? Now, or later. I’m not picky. And then maybe again?”

Bucky turned blue eyes back to Sam and he really did look just like all those old pictures. That same sad smile came to his mouth. “Yeah, I really, really do. Maybe later,” he said and leaned over to kiss Sam’s cheek softly.

Sam’s eyes fluttered shut and his heart kicked up so rapidly in his chest it punched the air out of his ribs.

When he managed to open his eyes again, Bucky was gone.

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Fever {1}

Series Masterlist

A/N: I rewatched the movies and had an overwhelming need to write the story in ways that I would have liked to see it play out. I am a firm Team Jacob and will be for this fic, there will be Edward bashing. If you don’t like it, don’t read it.

In regards to the wolves, I will be leaning more into the werewolf/shapeshifter mythology, rather than the Quileute storyline that Meyer wrote, I don’t feel that I would do their stories justice, and also just don't like the way Meyer handled any part of their story so I will just be playing with Meyer’s characters. If you’re interested in the Quileute histories or able to donate to their school relocation to help them move their school to higher ground, I’ve included some websites.

Quileute Nation Website: https://quileutenation.org/

Truth vs. Twilight: https://www.burkemuseum.org/static/truth_vs_twilight/facts-01.html

Move to Higher Ground Tribal School Relocation: mthg.org

Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Abandonment

Summary: Starting in New Moon, what would have happened if Jacob imprinted on Bella? What if she would have chosen him after Edward left? What if she went to therapy?

Rating: M

Word Count: 2,049

I was cold, so fucking cold. And empty, I was empty. The trees overhead were swallowing me as the sun sank. He was gone, I was alone, he just left. He never loved me, I was just a momentary amusement. Cold was seeping into my bones as I lay on the forest floor, waiting for the sky to turn black and for the night to consume me. Rain started, it was cold.The rain started mingling with the warm tears that had rolled down my cheeks.

My world is not for you. I don’t want you to come with me. This will be the last time you see me. Goodbye, Bella. An endless loop of his voice repeated these statements in my mind. It wouldn’t stop, I just wanted it to stop. Then a voice interrupted me, “Isabella Swan? Have you been hurt? Did he hurt you?” Then warmth surrounded me.

“He’s gone, he left. I’m alone.” I groaned, burrowing into the warmth, but it wasn’t enough warmth. I needed more. He kept walking until we broke the tree line and he called out to a swarm of people. “I’ve got her!”

Charlie was yelling my name. “Bella?!” I felt his hands on my face. “I can take her.”

“Charlie?” I whimpered.

“I’m right here, baby, I’m here.” Charlie’s voice soothed.

“Charlie, I can bring her inside.” The voice murmured.

“Please, Sam, let me take her.”Sam, so that was the disembodied voice’s name. I whined as I was passed away from the warmth and into Charlie’s arms.

“I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you.” Charlie murmured, I could hear him puff his breath as we entered the house, he set me down gingerly on the couch. “Sam, blankets are at the top of the stairs, in the cupboard. Doc’s gonna check you out okay?” He asked, brushing hair out of my face, my fingers still shaking. I felt a blanket set on my shoulders, I pulled it close as Dr. Gerandy walked into my line of sight.

“Hello, Miss Swan. I’m here to do a quick check up. Just make sure you’re okay. Do you know where you are?”

“Home.” I mumbled.

“Do you know who is here?” He asked, flashing a light in my eyes.

“Charlie, Sam, and you, Dr. Gerandy.” I answered.

He smiled. “And what happened in the woods? Are you hurt?” He placed his hand on my forehead.

“I…I tried to follow after him. He just left, he doesn’t want me anymore. I’m nothing.” I mumbled.

“Bella, baby, did Edward Cullen do this?” Charlie asked, kneeling down next to me.

“He left, he’s gone. I’m alone.” Then the tears started and I couldn’t hold them back. Charlie’s arms wrapped awkwardly around my shoulders as I leaned into him.

“I’ll be back to check on her tomorrow, Charlie. I don’t see any physical injuries.” I heard Dr. Gerandy murmur before seeing himself out of the room.

“Bells, I have to let everyone know you’re okay and send them home. I’ll be right back.” Charlie murmured into my hair. I clenched my hands into his shirt for a moment, before releasing him.

I heard him call out of the house, saying his thanks and dismissing the group. As his footsteps fell on the floor the phone started to ring. He grumbled and padded into the kitchen, having the same hushed conversation with the callers. There was a pause in ringing for a minute before it began again. Charlie let out a large sigh before answering.

“Hello.” He greeted curtly. “Where? Outside the reservation? I’ll check on it, thanks.”

The phone hung up and he was dialing again. “Hey, Billy. No, she’s fine. Sleeping on the couch. Thanks for sending the boys. Look, I’ve got reports of fires on the cliffs.......Yeah, okay, and why are they doing that?” His voice was weary. “Really? Just make sure it doesn’t spread, I can’t leave her alone.....Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone then sighed. He padded around the kitchen, I heard dishes being placed in the sink before his footsteps grew closer and I heard him drop into his recliner.

“What’s going on?” I asked, his head jolted towards me. He started to stand. “Charlie, I’m okay. What’s happening, I heard you talking about fires.”

He sighed, “Just some bonfires on the cliffs. Some of the kids in La Push being rowdy.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

His eyes met mine, “They’re celebrating.”

My brow furrowed for a moment, “They’re celebrating the Cullens leaving.” I murmured.

Charlie nodded, and sat back in his chair. He was staring at the wall, his mind somewhere else. “Bella?” He asked, in a gentle tone I don’t know if I had heard since I was small. I glanced over at him. “He left you alone, in the woods?”

I remained silent, not sure what to say. He left me, alone. And in the woods, that much was the truth. “How did you find me?”

“Your note, you left it on the table. Said you went for a walk with Edward.” Charlie murmured, worrying a piece of paper in his hand. “Then you didn’t come back. I called their house, no one answered. I called Alice, nothing. So, I called the hospital. Doc told me that Carlisle resigned.”

I closed my eyes, as tears were starting to form again. How did I still have tears left to cry? “Where did they go?”

Charlie balked, I hadn’t meant to say that. “Doc said that Carlisle took a job in Los Angeles, some big hospital, very lucrative opportunity. Didn’t Edward tell you.”

I let out a wry laugh, Los Angeles, the last place a coven of vampires would relocate to.

“Bella, I need to know, did Edward leave you alone in the woods?”

I took a breath and stared up at the ceiling. “I tried to follow him, I was on the path. Then it was dark and I wasn’t on the path anymore. I tripped. Then I heard Sam.” A sob tore through my body.

“Oh, baby, it’s alright.” I heard Charlie rise from his chair and kneel by the couch. I rolled to my side and haphazardly wrapped my arms around him. “You’ll get through this. It won’t be easy, but you will be okay.”

“Dad...” I started, my voice was so weak and I felt his arms tighten around me.

“It’s okay, Bells. I’m here.” He was rubbing small circles on my back as tears continued flowing, at some point they had to stop. They had to. I don’t know how long we stayed like that before he pulled back. “Let’s get you to bed, you can stay home tomorrow. Alright?”

I nodded, he held out his hand to help me off the couch. I walked up the stairs to my room, giving him a small good night before entering my room. I glanced at the window, expecting his shadow to darken it. I did a small turn as I looked around my room, he had left the note. That much, I knew. Which meant, he had been in the house. I opened the CD player on my dresser. It was empty. It will be as if I never existed. “No, no.” I picked up the scrapbook from Renèe, the pages that I had filled were dotted with empty frames. I felt my breathing start to shallow and I sat on my bed. The window still closed, he was gone. He didn’t want me. I sunk into the covers as the dam broke and I was swallowed whole by the tides.

I never really understood what people meant when they talked about going through the motions, at least, not until now. Six months had passed since he left. I didn’t even feel like those months existed, my only proof was the constant changing of the calendar. It was January now, that much I knew, if you asked me for the actual day, I wouldn’t have that answer. I sighed and pulled on an outfit, that Alice would be disappointed in. Maybe my poor fashion choices would summon her here. I let out a laugh and walked down the stairs for breakfast.

I sat down at the table with my usual cereal, Dad nursing his morning coffee. The circles under his eyes dark and deep. I knew those were my fault. Months of sleepless nights had worn on him, I wish I could let him sleep. I wish both of us could sleep. Silence fell in the little kitchen, silence had become common in the house.

But this morning was different, Dad’s fist hit the table. “Bella, I don’t know what to do. Something has to change, or I’m sending you to Florida with your mom.” Dad stated, a shake in his voice.

“I am home.” I snapped back, glancing up into his eyes.

“I’m sending you back, to Renèe, in Jacksonville. I...Bella...I can’t let you live like this. You don’t do anything, you just walk through the motions. I can’t let you go on like this. You can’t... Bella.”

“Dad, please, don’t.” I started, the thought of being sent back to Renèe had my heart pounding, for the first time in months I felt like I had an indicator that I was alive. “Please, I can do better.”

He sighed, “I know, Bella, but I have to do something. Bells, you’re wasting away, you’re falling behind in school, you don’t leave your room. I can’t even say you’re moping because you don’t emote enough for it to be considered moping. Dr. Gerandy recommended a therapist from Port Angeles, thought you might like her.”

I chewed on my thumbnail, being presented with the possibility of being shipped back to Renèe jostled me out of my stupor for a moment. I couldn’t go back to her, I couldn’t take care of myself, how was I supposed to take care of her again? And Phil was hurt again, so he’d be another added to my list. “A therapist might not be a bad idea.” I mumbled.

Dad’s eyes widened. “I can call, see when she has an opening. Get an appointment booked.”

I nodded, still chewing on my thumbnail.

“Bells?” He asked tentatively.

I glanced up from the table. “Dad?”

“You’re not the first to go through this kind of thing. I….” He trailed off. “I had a hard time when your mom left. I was in a bad place. It took me time, but I got through it.” He paused again, he glanced down at his coffee and took a long sip before speaking again. “You can’t waste your life waiting for him to come back. I think if I had seen someone, maybe I would have been able to get better sooner.” There was something else he was thinking, but he kept it to himself.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” I mumbled.

His eyes shot over to me, and he sat up to reach across the table to place his hand over mine. “Bella, you have nothing to be sorry about. I am sorry, that I didn’t get you help sooner. And I’m sorry that I threatened to send you back to Renèe, I’m worried about you, kid.”

“I know, let me know when you get an appointment.” I said, giving him a weak smile before standing from the table. “I’ve got to get to school, see you when I get home.”

He nodded, and took another sip of his coffee as I left the kitchen. “Love you.” I heard him whisper as I left the door. Another small smile spread across my lips and I climbed into my truck. I pulled into my parking space and took a deep breath. The past few months I had been a ghost, I wonder if they’re real too….. I shook my head and stared at Forks High. There were no shiny Volvos parked at the side with a family of too perfect teenagers grouped at the entrance. No van barreling at me. Just a bunch of normal, human teenagers walking to their first class. I joined them, but I knew I was far from a normal human teenager, but just maybe, I would get closer than I was now.

[mthofferings2020]

HogwartsToAlexandria

See HogwartsToAlexandria ’s existing works here.

Preferred contact methods: Discord: Marie | HogwartsToAlexandria#9558 Tumblr: HogwartsToAlexandria

Preferred organizations: - Disability Rights Education & Defense Fund - Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) - NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund - Planned Parenthood - Rainbow Railroad (See the list of approved organizations here)

Will create works that contain: For Gen to Teen Content, I enjoy writing about: Canon divergent fics that avoid all or key angsty elements (canonical MCDs included), Complete AUs. Fluff, Family and Domestic vibes, Found Family and Strong Friendships, Adoptions, Pregnancy, Surrogacy, Mpreg, Trans Male Pregnancy, Any Stage of a child-oriented prospect, Temporary De-Aging. Also yes to platonic pairs parenting together!! Proposals, Weddings, Honeymoons, First Time Everything, Moving in Together, Roommates. Casual intimacy. Sharing clothes. Platonic caretaking. Feeding/Cooking for others. Love languages. Teaching each other things. Bonding over shared interests. Identity headcanons: all of them, whether gender, or sexuality. Disability representation and neurodiversity representation. Hurt/Comfort: I could get as serious or silly as you want as long as the focus stays on the comfort/happy or hopeful/meaningful ending. (Meaning I will absolutely write about serious diseases and even terminal illnesses if we can find a silver lining of some sort for our ship.) For Mature and Explicit Content of a sexual nature I enjoy A Lot Of Things but have a small list 😁: Size differences, Age differences, Strength differences, Biting, Hickeys, Kissing, Touching Anywhere, Hair-pulling, Hair-petting, Licking, Honor bondage, Predicament bondage, Wall sex, Non-bed sex but also Bed sex haha, Bath sex, Oral sex, Face-sitting, Face-Fucking, Awkward but fun sex, First Time First Time trying a new position or kink. Kink Negotiations, Establishing kink dynamics, BDSM whether formal or not, Kneeling, Presenting, Collars as wedding rings, Contracts, Service Kink, Glassy-eyed subs, Caring Doms, Verbal Humiliation and Physical Degradation, Cuckolding, Rough Sex, Gentle Aftercare, Watersports, Spitting, Snowballing, Rimming, Felching, Fingering (mouth, vaginal or anal is all fine), Breathplay (from strangling to full-on latex suits, sheets, bags), Pain play (from spanking to whipping and everything in between as long as it doesn't break skin).... Age play: from Daddy/Mommy kink to full on Cg/l (Sexual Age Play/Infantilism is also okay if all negotiations are made in Adult headspace).

Will not create works that contain: 1st and 2nd Person POV. Serious shovel talks and family/friends reacting badly to ship's relationship. Bullying. Issuefic: fic that focuses on issues relating to bigotry/prejudice. On-screen abuse whether verbal, physical or sexual. (Brief scenes of canonically shitty parents are okay.) Hopeless Endings. Cheating. Excessive jealousy or possessiveness. Gaslighting. Non-kinky indifference/humiliation. Total erasure or villification of canon partners, best friends parents/parental figures, Character or Ship bashing, Team Cap/Iron Man discourse, POC Characters in the therapist or matchmaker friend trope. Head/Eye trauma. Graphic depictions of open wounds. Blood play (Except for Vampire AUs). Scats, vomit, vore. Micro-Macro, Sex under Any influence (sex pollen, alcohol...), Misgendering, Non-gender comforming terms for trans characters if not IC, Pushiness about sex, Gender and race kink. Non-con. Bad BDSM practices (RACK ok, but I won't write about like, someone ignoring safewords for example.) Top/Bottom discourse.

  -- Fic or Other Writing --

Auction ID: 1256

Will create works for the following relationships: Phil Coulson/Tony Stark - MCU JARVIS/Tony Stark - MCU Happy Hogan/Tony Stark - MCU Stephen Strange/Wong - MCU Tony Stark/Sam Wilson - MCU Ned Leeds/Peter Parker - MCU James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark - MCU Peter Parker/Tony Stark/Stephen Strange - MCU James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Steve Rogers - MCU Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanov/Tony Stark - MCU

Work Description: Heya! So, as the ships I listed may hint at, I'm going for a rare pairs auction this year. I would absolutely love to write something for any of these pairings and probably more rare pairs that didn't make the 10, so if yours isn't there do reach out in the MTH server or in DMs to ask , chances are I also love it haha. I'm a big fan of fluff as my deets showed, and smut if also my happy place so if that's you too, we'll be well-matched. I would also love it if you shared my interest in fics that focus on marginalized identities and bodies, whether that's in term of gender, sexuality, skin color and culture or disability and neurodiversity or even size. I'm offering a 1k minimum fic, 5k maximum (if bids end up at 25$ and upwards). I will not be able to start working on it before January, but we can talk about it at length before that and you can tell me all the ways you want our faves to be happy! Feel free to look through my works and pick things you like if you'd like something similar in vibe or if you're short on prompts! As for your involvement once I start writing, if you'd like to cheer me on that'd be fun too but it's not a requirement at all. We'll play it by ear!

Ratings: Gen, Teen, Mature, Explicit

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

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[blackandblueandstars]

It's Okay Pt11

TRIGGER WARNING: Discusses mental, emotional, physical, sexual abuse. Especially sensitive for LGBT readers.

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9 Pt10

Kamilah stood, trying not to take it personally that Amy didn't want to see her. She knew it was hard. She wanted to avoid it. And Kamilah made it hard to avoid. But, it still hurt, as much as she didn't want it to.

She grabbed the nurse and let her know she would be in Sam's room, if Amy asked for her. Then she walked down the hall.

She knocked on the door, entering.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hi," said Sam. "How's Amy?"

"She's good," Kamilah said with a smile. "Asking ahout you, actually."

"I'm glad," said Sam. "She kept me safe, made me feel safe in that terrible place. I'm glad she's safe now."

"Me too," said Kamilah. "How are you doing?"

"Okay," she replied. "A social worker came by, they aren't sending me back to my parents."

"How do you feel about that?" asked Kamilah.

"Relieved," said Sam. "They hurt me so much. But...also sad. Afraid. They hurt me, but at least I knew what to expect. And I still love them. Now...well, I don't know what's next for me. Foster care, I guess."

"I understand how that would be complicated," Kamilah responded. "It's okay to have conflicting emotions."

"Maybe I'll be lucky and end up with a family like you and Amy," said Sam. "I hope so, anyway." She looked at Kamilah, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't mean...I didn't mean to be so forward, or make things awkward."

"You didn't," smiled Kamilah. "We're all good."

A nurse knocked on the door.

"I'll leave you to it," Kamilah said, returning to the hall. She pulled out her phone.

"Hi, Gloria," she said. "I need you to do me a favor."

"Anything," said Gloria.

"I'd like to get approved to adopt a child," she said. "I need you to start the process. Anything you can do to speed things up, please do. It's important."

"I never thought I would hear those words come out of your mouth again, Ms. Sayeed."

Kamilah laughed lightly. "Me either," she said honestly. "But I never thought I'd be standing where I am today. Not even last week. So...things change. And I guess sometimes good things can come out of bad situations. I mean, I hope so anyway. That depends on you."

"Of course, Ms. Sayeed. I'll take care of it."

"Thank you Gloria."

Kamilah returned to Amy's room, ready to sink to the floor again.

"Ma'am?" a nurse asked. She turned.

"Here is a chair for you," she said.

"Thank you," Kamilah said, touching her arm. "You're very kind."

She slid the chair against the wall, sitting down.

Her phone buzzed with a text. Adrian.

"Have you been home yet?" he asked.

"No."

It buzzed again, but she put it in her pocket. She didn't need a lecture from Adrian on how she needed to take care of herself. She needed to take care of Amy. But Amy wouldn't let her.

She sighed, feeling exhausted through and through.

She pulled her phone out again, searching for therapists that dealt with this type of trauma. Amy would needs someone to talk to, someone who could help her heal, and she wanted to give her the best. She deserved the best.

Kamilah didn't remember falling asleep, but she was jerked awake by shouting from Amy's room.

"NO!" shouted Amy. "NO, please no! Stop!"

Kamilah quickly ran into the room, surveying its contents. No one was there. She looked at Amy, asleep, tossing and turning. She walked over and touched her gently as nurses sped in behind her.

"It's a nightmare, darling," she cooed as she gently roused Amy from sleep. She looked at her, disoriented, eyes wide in fear.

"It's okay, Amy, you're okay. I'm here, you're safe, everything is okay."

Amy buried het face in Kamilah's side, and Kamilah stroked her back.

The nurses returned to their work as Kamilah soothed Amy.

"I'm so sorry," Amy sobbed into Kamilah's shirt as she tried to comfort her. "I'm so sorry."

"Shh," Kamilah said, "Baby it's okay. You're okay."

"They made me, Kami," she said. "I didn't want to. I told them I didn't want to. I didn't want to cheat on you. I didn't want it, I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey," Kamilah said, kneeling on the ground and pushing Amy's hair out of her face. "Baby, none of this is your fault. I'm not mad at you, I don't blame you, and you didn't cheat on me. You were assaulted. Don't you worry about us, we are so good, my firefly. I am here for you and I am not going anywhere. You just worry about getting better. And you're not alone. I'll help you. Lily will help you. Adrian and Jax will help you. We've got you, baby. I've got you, Amy."

Kamilah held Amy while she sobbed, until she fell asleep. She climbed into bed beside her and held her, gently.

"I've got you," she promised again.

When Adrian walked into Amy's room, he saw Kamilah laying with her, both of them fast asleep. He couldn't help but smile, seeing them both reunited. He left the bag on the table - some food, a change of clothes, her phone charger - and left Kamilah a note.

Then he walked out, texting Lily and Jax.

"Meet me at the office," he said.

The three vampires sat in the conference room.

"Amy seems to be doing a little better," he said. "So I want to focus on something else."

"What?" asked Jax, arms crossed in front of him.

"Destroying the organization that did this to her. But I'm not sure how."

"Murder them all?" asked Jax.

"As tempting as that is," said Adrian, "they're too large."

"We need to send them to jail," said Lily.

"How?" asked Jax.

"I have an idea," she said, eyes gleaming.

Part 11

Want a fan-fic written just for you? Check out my follower appreciation post.

Author's Note: I had the idea to write this after watching a segment about a conversion camp. This has been particularly hard for me to write, but it feels necessary to me to explore the horrors that people exactly like myself have experienced. I wanted to add some resources where people share real stories of their experiences and survivors can go to find help:

National Center for Lesbian Rights

Love is a Rainbow

Article from The Cut

Tag list: @h-doodles @scarlet-letter-a0114 @idkbutkamilah @lightning-fury @galaxyside-0 @blogsupitssam @ilovetaylor13m @la-guera-69 @adrianrainesworld @iam-the-fuckin-queen

[littlebatgames]

Cowboys + Vampires = yes please

When I first started writing Vampire Therapist, this guy was the player character.

Andromachos is 3000 years old. He's experienced, strong, and intimidatingly good looking. When I started putting him in front of the game's therapy clients, I found that Andromachos was so wise, he sucked all the humor out of the room. Beyond that, I think his clients were a little afraid of disappointing him.

I recast him in the role of mentor, and as an experiment, I recast the therapist as a cowboy, doing a silly voice in my studio. But it stuck. It turns out that a cowboy was just what the Vampire Therapist story needed. Cowboys are more attuned to the earth -- they "touch grass." They're more folksy, much easier to approach than a character like Andromachos. I also needed a character that would learn along with the player, which is how I came up with Sam Walls.

Here are some of our earlier renderings of Sam. Since he's *been through it*, we wanted to show some world weariness and humanity.

He looks great! He's a very handsome fella, crushworthy in his own right. But the core of Vampire Therapist is in compassion and humor, so we needed to lighten up Sam some. If you've played the game, you know he's a pretty lighthearted fella!

These are some of @nomnomroko's first renderings of Sam. You can see her style coming through here, retaining Sam's humanity but with the harder line style that we use on Vampire Therapist to make characters extra characterful and expressive. We decided on a mix of C and D, and got to work on some of the first pose renderings.

You can see the benefits of the Vampire Therapist style coming through already in the highly expressive faces we needed to depict a truly compassionate therapist! Also, @nomnomroko's extraordinary hands.

Costume choices. This was feeling a little formal, and we thought we could play to our strengths even more by showing a bit more skin. After more tweaks and shading, we had our man.

It's incredibly gratifying to see players resonating with Sam's sweetness, patience, and compassion, and his character design really helps reinforce those characteristics. The most common word we get associated with him is "adorable," and although that might make him feel awkward, I guess one can't argue with reality.

Check out our Steam page to learn more about Vampire Therapist! We've made something fun and heartwarming and I'd love for you to wishlist it. If we do well, I've got some crazy ideas and characters planned for the sequel!