#Swan Lake reference people :3

[sylveonkawaii289]

🍪🦢🖤 Bo has met a gorgeous and beautiful cookie from Dessert Paradise. Black Sugar Swan Cookie is pleased to meet a new friend and is delighted to join a tea party with her! 🤖🦄💜

[lambilegs]

THE TENDER SANCTUARY BETWEEN MONSTER AND HUMAN

contains: vampire!lee, 18.5K words, cursing, graphic descriptions of blood and violence, detailed killing of animals for vampire feeding needs, lots of self-shame and existentialism about being a vampire on lee's end, lee drinking blood from reader (becomes quite sexual in nature), sexual content (so minors dni!!) (+ specifically, making out and dry humping), mentions of shooting + gun usage, injuries (+ a bullet wound described in great detail), internalized shame about kink, religious trauma, reader's genitals are spoken of but aren't referred to w/ any direct terminology

inspired by the following asks: ask #1, ask #2, ask #3, ask #4 (thank you SO much to you guys, you're the ones who really planted the seeds of this story and gave me the ideas + inspo for it mwah mwah)

soundtrack: night shift by lucy dacus, 505 by arctic monkeys, apocalypse by cigarettes after sex, k. by cigarettes after sex, romance in f minor, op. 5 by tchaikovsky, swan lake act 1, no. 5, pas de deux: ii. andante by tchaikovsky, romeo & juliet, balcony scene by tchaikovsky

divider by: @faeberrywine

taglist: @2jewelz, @sillysillyparty, @jinxvex

lee is never going to trust carter's judgement ever again. that's the first thought she has when she's suddenly yanked back into reality, into the throes of life, when she was certain that she was on the edge of death just moments ago.

she had warned him that something seemed off about this case, something bent from reality. but, just like always, he refused to believe her, claiming she was just being paranoid and there were no supernatural ongoings. but, lee felt it. the history of the family they were investigating was seeped with mystery and unexplainable occurrences. people who looked the exact same for years upon years, a tendency to only be witnessed publicly at night, an intense beauty. 

she had known something was off, and now, because of her superior's stubbornness, here she is: convulsing and writhing, tears leaking from her eyes as the daughter of the family, a woman who looked close to her age, but whom she lee suspected of being alive for two hundred and twenty three years, presses a fresh cut on her palm to lee's gun wound, intermingling their blood together. she feels the effects immediately, her body surging with an energy that soaks into her veins and drenches her nerves.

carter witnesses it all from where he was shooting the mother of the family, but to no avail. all she does is cackle, watching him with a wicked gleam in her eye. she makes no move to chase him, or attack him, which is only more unnerving. it implies that even if he gave chase, and had the advantage of her lingering at the back, she's certain she'd still win. carter seems to realize this, for his eyes are wide, desperately flicking to lee. it seems like he finally understands. 

but, it's too late. lee can feel the tight ball of anxiety wedging into her stomach as a new feeling wraps around her body, making her feel lighter and easier to move, as though her limbs no longer weigh anything, as though her bones are made of plastic. it's terrifying, and she finds herself paralyzed to the floor, overwhelmed by the flow of power beginning to push through her body.

"I didn't think you deserved to die," the woman by her side whispers, pressing a kiss to lee's cheek before slinking back to her mother.

the two women let carter and lee go, taking advantage of the vulnerable position the latter is in. lee knows that in their mercy, they're silently telling them to keep to themselves about this and that they won't be so lucky if they pursue this case again. lee hates to leave a case, especially one right at her fingertips, unresolved. but, she knows in her weakening state, body flooded by all the new sensations and unable to cope, along with the abilities both women possess, her and carter will never reasonably be able to arrest them. and even if they did, what would happen then? they'd spend an eternity in prison?

there are too many questions, and lee's mind is a bit too numb to answer all of them. and so, despite her internal protests, she lets carter wind his arm around her waist and help her stumble out of the home. it looks like any other suburban house. if only people knew.

carter insists on keeping her at his family home in the guest room, and lee knows it's not just care for a partner that's driving him, but an acute sense of guilt too. she could detect it in the shaky way he tried to explain what happened to his wife upon the two of them tripping past the threshold, bloodied and bruised.

lee doesn't exactly like it. she's appreciative, sure, but she'd prefer time away from carter after what happened. time by herself, where she can research as to what happened and if it'll result in what she fears most. she felt a change, some change, in her body, that's for certain, but a part of her weighs heavy with the desperate, bottomless hope that it's not what she thinks it is. 

she wants to deal with all of that alone. but, carter is still her boss, so she lets him bring her soup everyday, and she comes down for family dinner with him, anna and ruby. and in the evenings, she talks to ruby about the child's day. if it were under any circumstances, these conditions might be tolerable, nice even. lee doesn't exactly enjoy the constant stimulation of being around people, but here, the carters give her space due to what she's been through (not that anna even knows the whole story). so, it's not too bad. the first day, it's actually surprising to her. it's been years since she's actually had a taste of a family dinner with so much laughter and affection. not since she was a child before her ninth birthday.

on the third day, though, all of her neutrality towards the situation shatters. she wakes up with a ravenous hunger, her stomach wretched with a deep, grumbling pain from how badly she needs it. the back of her mind whispers what it is -- the answer is right there, but lee's always been good at compartmentalizing, and she practically drains that ability of its use through her denial of what she's become. 

that is, until anna comes in with her kind smiles and soft eyes, and lee nearly lunges at her. her mind is screaming for her to sink her teeth into anna's neck, grip her body and let it go pliant as she drinks and drinks. her hands are itching with it, her stomach is rumbling in desire for it, and by the time anna leaves the room, lee nearly throws up at how hard she had kept her body stiff in order to control the urge. 

she leaves that night. carter presses that she doesn't, but all it takes is for lee to say, "carter, I'm becoming what they are. it's not safe."

the firmness of her tone, or more likely, the underlying threat to his family that hides within the words, is what finally has his lips pursing. after some moments of contemplation, he nods and drives her back to her cottage.

the entire ride is torturous, and lee, very unlike herself, slams the door without a goodbye and runs into her home. 

at nighttime, it worsens. exponentially. her gums ache and bleed, and a choked sob bursts from her mouth at the sight of fangs protruding from her teeth. her nose starts capturing everything. every musky leaf amongst the trees surrounding her, every mineral and rock, every animal--

her head whips up when it's near. the blood. 

she makes her first kill that night. a rabbit, a poor creature who froze upon seeing lee leave her door. but, the hunger was too much, too consuming, lacing her body in ropes of it and tugging, too tight. on her porch, her hands rolled into fists, nails digging into her palms, her stomach sunk with guilt and horror for the urges pulsing through her. and she tried, so hard, to go back in. she almost made it, one step in. 

but, then it moves, and lee catches a whiff of the scent again. her legs move faster than she can process, and seconds later, her teeth are sinking into its small, innocent body.

that night, she can't even sleep, mind whirring with memories of what happened. the way the animal's eyes widened, flashing in the darkness, before she gripped it so brutally, biting into it. it barely even resisted, just squirming before accepting its death to lee's mouth. 

the reminder of it makes her sob into her pillow, her chest aching with the weight of what she’s done, the sin she’s committed. what's worst is the fact that her stomach no longer growls and tempts her -- it's satisfied. she's satisfied. 

she knows what she is now. logically, there's no denying it. these urges, these primitive wants -- they've never existed within her until that woman pressed their wounds together, sending their bloodstreams intermingling. she's a vampire. or if not one yet, she's becoming it. 

lee, for days, ignores the revelation, an irrational part of her hoping this is all a nightmare she'll shudder to a brutal awakening from. or that maybe these symptoms are temporary. but, the more she compulsively researches her conditions, sneaks into libraries at night to dive into literature about it (because, yes, the morning after her first kill, she found herself writhing in pain, her skin stinging from all the open windows), and observes her own behaviours, she can't ignore it. this is a part of her now, if not who she entirely is. a horrible, disgusting part she tries to ignore, she tries to shove aside as much as she can.

for months, she isolates herself, sunk into a complete abyss of melancholy and devastation over what's happened to her. she doesn't know what she'll do, how she'll cope with all of this. some days, she throws herself into books and readings, filling her mind with all the information so that she does not have to linger on the more tender, emotional and difficult parts of the situation -- a tendency she approached almost everything in life with. but, other days, when a new facet of her condition rears its ugly head, like the thought of will I outlive mom? after one of their daily phone calls, or will I watch all these people die? when carter talks to her on the phone about their coworkers, she forgoes the rationality and pretense. she cries, screams, tears at branches of trees, disgusted with what she's become and hating herself, carter, and the entire family they investigated, for that horrific day.

she even resorts to praying and reading the bible again. it only lasts a month, for that’s how long it takes for her to reconcile with the fact that she can’t convince herself of the religion even if she’s desperate to do so for the sake of an answer. but, for a while before that, she truly wonders if what she is is linked to the devil – if her mother’s warnings and skeptical tones of evil did indeed have some place in reality. for if vampires exist, maybe all of it does. and so, she prays to the god she gave up on years ago, pleading and begging for something to change. she goes back to wearing her cross, and sleeping with her bible. an irrational part of her, a part desperate to do anything to go back to how things were, even if it means sacrificing her true beliefs, hisses that maybe all this has occurred because she gave up on her faith. maybe all of this is punishment and she needs to earn forgiveness to be released from this horrific state.

but, just as before, when she was a teenager teetering on the edge of disbelief, god doesn’t answer her. and it doesn’t take long for her to lose her hope in him again.

she continues feeding. she soon learns that she needs to do it every three days, lest her body become a rotted vessel for broken reservations and pure instinct. and so, she shamefully lurks in the woods on those days, kills an animal, and uses it to satisfy herself. she whispers an apology to the animal each time. she hopes the practice will help her retain some sense of humanity, a bit more of control.

in a matter of months, she's back to her life before the incident. well, not entirely so, but enough to keep her satisfied. she no longer visits the bureau unless it's at nighttime, and in the daytime, she works on cases from the shadows of her home, only dimly lit by lamps. her and carter spend many long hours reviewing cases and witnesses together at bars or his home, and they only explore places in relation to a case after nightfall. all of this is something lee grasps onto desperately – the normalcy of work, as well as having something less existentialist to devote her attention and skills to, is akin to a cool sip of water on a hot, suffocating day.

what surprises her most is how much she misses the pump of people, of life. she's never enjoyed being in crowds, and has always preferred her solitude, only talking to people when it's necessary of her or when it'd be disrespectful not to. but, having the choice removed from her, being left with no option other than visiting the bureau when the amount of people there is cut by half, being so much more restricted in her interactions from all the late-night grocery runs and unoccupied spaces she visits, feels off. after a while, she actually misses the buzz of people around her, of having faces and bodies to observe. she hated being subjected to conversation, yes, but it was always somewhat comforting to have the option of doing so, especially in the rare moments of longing for something more than herself. maybe a companion.

carter urges her on the one night she confesses to missing going places less isolated, smacking her back and telling her she's young (a sentiment that makes a small part of her stab with hurt, knowing she most likely won't be aging now), and ought to go out and enjoy some night life. when lee asks what constitutes as night life, already having a tentative, and frankly, unappealing, idea of it in mind, carter does nothing to ease her suspicions by saying, "you know, bars, clubs."

which is how lee finds herself exiting a club later that night after a mere half an hour inside, her mouth twisted in disgust over how pungent it smelled in there. she rubs her neck, eyes observing down the rest of the street, trying to capture any sign of life within the other shops. she shortly gives up, walking to a creaking table and chair outside a convenience store still lit up, sitting there and pulling out a book from her backpack.

despite everything, the moment gives her some relief. the quiet of the night, not completely removed from humanity with the hoots and howls coming from drunk inhabitants of the club, the low thrum of music pounding from the building, and the murmurs of conversation from people still lingering upon the pavement, up for whatever reason. if lee listens closely enough, she can capture the content of distanced conversations, but she refrains from doing so for privacy's sake.

"hey."

her eyes snap up, widening at the sight of you. whoever you are, lee's sure the two of you have never met, and her eyes flick away hesitantly before returning your greeting. "hi."

"are you here alone?"

her eye twitches at the question, suspicions immediately swimming in her mind. "yes."

you sit yourself opposite to her, and lee tenses up. she's not sure who you are, and she knows better than to trust a random stranger making conversation with her. she watches you, awaiting some sort of explanation. 

"I just came from the club," you explain, thumb jutting in the direction of it. "it was kind of overwhelming, I needed some air."

"okay.” it’s a sensible explanation. but, it doesn’t account for why needing some air includes sitting with a stranger. “why talk to me, though?"

you flinch, but lee doesn’t apologize. it's a valid question for her to ask, considering you're strangers. and it's not rude, it's simply honest. but, still, the twist of your mouth has her feeling a twinge of regret for how bluntly she worded it. she always struggles with that.

"well, I don't know, you seemed kind of alone out here, and I just thought you might like some company." your gaze drifts from her, head ducking down momentarily before lifting back to her. "did you?"

"not really." lee places her book on the table. at this point in the night, after the torture she endured in the club, she had been happy to resign from anymore efforts to talk to people. but, your company isn't entirely unwelcome. you seem nice, she supposes. "but, it's fine. you can stay."

"no, no, I can go. seriously, it's okay."

lee shakes her head. "I wouldn't offer it unless I was okay with it. really, it's fine."

you shift, shoulders rolling. "you sure?"

"mhm."

you nod, and turn your head to the expanse of the street stretching beyond you two. lee takes the moment to observe your features. you're clearly dressed up for the night, but under your eyes are dark circles, and your mouth seems dry, lips cracking. it's apparent you need some rest. 

you lick your lips, and she looks away from the peak of the pink muscle.

after a quiet moment lingers between you both, you say, "it's a pretty night, isn't it?"

lee's eyes raise to the star-studded sky. "it's peaceful."

"do you prefer the night or morning?"

lee blinks at the unexpected question. "um, night. I'm more productive then." in a way, the transformation actually aligns with the schedule she held prior to it, for she's always stayed up late into the night to do her work. "you?"

"does afternoon count?" you ask, the corner of your lip quirking up. 

"it was your question, not mine."

"mm, true. what do you like about nighttime?"

"it's quiet. easier to unwind and hear my own thoughts."

you nod slowly. "why, what kind of stuff is on your mind that you need quiet for?"

lee's stomach squeezes in discomfort from the question. it's a bit too personal for her liking, but she tries to answer it, vaguely tip-toeing around reality. "I don't know. there's been a big change in my life. so, I guess dealing with that." she pauses right after, wondering if a lie would’ve been safer.

"I see, that sounds rough. I hope you get to figure it out soon."

lee nods, appreciative of your lack of prying. she picks at the corner of her book. "why do you like afternoon?"

"the sun is out, it makes everything bright -- and, you know, it's a period of time in the day where there's still, like, hope."

that catches lee's attention. "hope?"

"hope to be more productive, to do more in the day. to still, you know, take any chances and seize at something you wanted to do that day."

she swallows, a bit intimidated by how open you've become to her. you two barely know each other, and yet your words have taken on a note that feels so private, so exposing to your thought process. 

"that, um, sounds like a good outlook to have. good for productivity."

"I mean, not just productivity. good for any life choices made, really."

lee's mouth twitches. "so, all important life choices should be reserved for the afternoon?"

"yes, of course," you say with a smile. "not too tired, then."

she hums, eyes resting on the table. 

"so, what brings you out at this time?"

"my boss."

your eyes flicker about. "I thought you said you came alone?"

"he's the one that suggested I try coming out and socializing."

you raise an eyebrow at her, your mouth stretching into a grin. "and how's that going?"

she feels a bit self-conscious under your knowing gaze. you both are aware it's not going anywhere. but, she'd rather dismiss that fact than admit it out loud. "you're here."

"I am, aren't I? see, you're pretty lucky -- now, you can tell him you did make a friend."

"friend?" she asks, fingers tapping on her book. "that wouldn't be accurate. I don't even know your name."

"wow," you chuckle, and lee would probably blush at it if not for her bodily conditions. "smooth. was that your way of trying to subtly ask?"

lee nearly laughs. if only she were that cognizant about the ins and outs of conversation. "no, it wasn't." after a beat, she swallows, curiosity beginning to swarm in her. "but, you can tell me it nonetheless."

"if I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?"

her eyebrows furrow. "sure. why wouldn't I?"

"well, you know, mysterious woman, out at night, all by herself."

"except you know why I'm out," she points out flatly. "regarding names and basic information, my name is lee and I'm a special agent."

"special agent?" you shoot back, eyebrows zapping up. "wow, and the mysteries only persist."

lee's lips crack into a smile -- she can't help it. her life isn't exciting enough for her to be considered mysterious. and if it is, it's only because of what she is now. before that, everything in her life was designated into orderly, neat categories. work, home, work, home. that was her life. there was the occasional visit to her mother's, which she supposes was one complicated part of her life. but, it was a part she often avoided and didn't touch. honestly, most complicated aspects of her life received such treatment. both due to a lack of time with how immersed she was in work, as well as an absence of courage.

"it's not that mysterious." she shrugs, drawing her nail along the edges of her book, gaze following the path it makes. 

"yeah, but you seem pretty private."

"'private' and 'mysterious' aren't the same. one is about secrecy, another is about simply wanting things to yourself."

"but, why would you want things to yourself?" you ask, perching your cheek on your open palm, leaning in.

lee clears her throat, shifting in discomfort from the proximity. "what do you mean?"

"it can help so much to share with people."

lee's face twitches. "I think we can disagree on that." not that she would know, really. when she was a child, she barely spoke at all, and her mother was the only one she leaned on in that way. as she grew up, and became more surrounded by peers and co-workers, she was no longer forced to spending most of her days with her mother. but, the privacy stayed, and the isolated feelings made a home in her. she had no desire to burden others with her pain, nor undergo the humiliation of baring herself naked in all of her secrets and dark thoughts. she'd prefer to handle it in her own solitude, where no one can judge her and where she doesn't have to grapple with the weight of unloading things she can barely handle thinking about, let alone giving permission to transform into words.

"and why's that? or would telling me also count as sharing?"

lee's eyes narrow on you, feeling a spark of defensiveness spring to life in her stomach. "I don't because... I don't--" shit, you were right. even admitting the reason why she doesn't share things that are vulnerable is a vulnerable act of sharing in and of itself. "I don't feel comfortable with it."

"why, because you're scared people will judge or something?"

she blinks at you, sighing. she's already kicked the door down. might as well humour you for a bit more. she doesn't expect you two will see each other again, anyways. "amongst other things." at your prodding eyes, she gulps. "well, it's hard for me -- to, you know, communicate sometimes. the topic being one that's serious makes it feel all the more difficult."

"yeah, but if it makes you feel better, it's hard to a degree for everyone, you know? and anyone who cares for you would be patient when listening to you. plus, the comfort you'd receive -- well, it'd make the temporary discomfort worthwhile, you know?"

lee fidgets, her stomach tight with tension at the gentleness your tone takes on. it's smooth and soft, like sand that's been coated by the ocean, so fragile that it just slips through a person's fingers. she'd maybe appreciate it more if it weren't for the embarrassment at feeling so cornered. "why does it matter to you?" she asks, her tone more timid than she wishes it was. "I'm just a stranger to you."

"still a person."

just barely. if only you knew the kind of temptations that raged within her, the violent impulses she needed to lean on in order to survive. she's certain your sympathy wouldn't be so present if so. 

"but, a stranger."

you roll your eyes, and lee might've felt insecure if not for the way your lips still curl up. you don't seem irritated with her, so at least there's that. "my point is that even if you don't share with me, you can still do it with someone else, you know? just take the chance, it'll feel good with the right person."

her lips purse. you seem insistent, but still, she's not entirely convinced that the pros outweigh any potentially harmful repercussions. but, you certainly seem sure of it. and what reason do you have to lie to her? unless you were the kind of person to go around, deceiving strangers. with lee's line of work, she can't say she'd be surprised if you are. 

"I'll think about it."

your face beams as you laugh, and lee feels ambushed by the lifted cheeks glowing from the moonlight, the teeth that flash in the darkness, the lips that crack at the center from the cold. she licks her own, suddenly hyperaware of the direction her thoughts have gone in. she tries to will them back to your words -- which, despite their openness, contain a safer, more comfortable territory than attraction. 

"I suppose that's the best I'll get out of you for tonight?"

"yeah, pretty much."

"then, we'll just have to work harder next time, huh?"

lee's eyes tentatively raise to you, uncertain of what you mean. "next time?"

"yeah." you pluck out a notebook and pen from your bag, and rip a corner off her page (much to lee's alarm) before scrawling something on it. "this is my number and name. why don't we, um, hang out again?"

lee's body jerks a bit in surprise. the last thing she expected was that. she knows she's far from entertaining, or even pleasant, when it comes to conversation. any interaction with a stranger is something she anticipates to be short-lived and reserved to one day only. "uh, why?"

"why?" your lips pinch down.

lee's caught off guard, again, at the onslaught of panic that slams into her at your expression. she tries to pick out her words carefully before clarifying, "I just mean, you were kind of doing the leg work in this conversation."

"yeah, and you entertained it, and didn't shy away." you shrug, and lee's relieved to see the frown melting away. "that's good enough for me."

lee would like to be considered a bit more than good enough, and to be subjected to those words sting, but she supposes it's a natural result of her own reservations. besides, it's surely not the worst thing someone has said about her conversational skills before.

she lifts her hand up to take the paper from your hand, eyes immediately catching the way yours trembles. her eyes flick between the digits and your face. you hadn't seemed nervous, but maybe you were just talented at hiding it. or maybe lee was just unable to detect it. the thought is rather humanizing, and it makes lee ache with the sudden guilt that she hadn’t been more forthcoming.

you stand from your seat, glancing warily at the night club, which continues to pulse with life compared to the deadly stillness of the rest of the street. "so, call me. I should be free, like, saturday morning if you're cool to hang out."

surprisingly, lee is. you didn't overwhelm her, despite the insistent questions, and your perspective was enough to pique her interest. something in her is craving to know more -- a rare sensation on her end, unless it's applied to an investigation. "sure. but, let's meet at night." she licks her lips, trying to keep her voice steady and deprived of any trembles of hesitation. she can't lie for the life of her. "I, um, work a lot during the day, so, yeah." and she's surely not about to invite you into her home during a mere second meeting.

"ah, running on the nocturnal schedule, I see."

lee nearly laughs. you don't even know the half of it.

and so, begins the routine you two weave together through: nightly meetings, talks until the earliest hours of the morning, then an abrupt quiet thrusted upon lee when you depart. you two usually walk through parks, frequent gas stations and convenience stores, and on some occasions, lee picks you up and you two drive around for hours, stopping to walk through the measly, dead grass of fields on the outskirts of town, or to visit abandoned stables and houses. 

for two or three nights a week, lee lets herself forget everything, falling into whatever adventure you drag her into, and becomes surrounded by nothing but the stars, the chirps of the crickets and your laughter at the things she says, even when lee's convinced it isn't funny at all. 

but, she likes your smile, so she’s glad that you laugh. and with time, and more evenings spent with no one to focus or gaze upon but you, she comes to like many things about you.

despite that, it takes weeks before she shares something secretive with you. she doesn't know what coaxes it out. if it's the stress of the case her and carter have been working on, the nervousness derived from wandering along the creaking floorboards of the half-destroyed home, or your eyes, which are so wide, so curious, almost begging for her to give you something. and lee can't find it in her to refuse you. that's what she learned three weeks into your company. she can evade, she can gently deny -- but, if you want something bad enough, there's little chance she has it in her to shut you down.

"my mom collects trinkets like these," she muses to you, fingers brushing against the dusty head of an angel. "even I used to have some in my bedroom."

"does she still?"

lee tenses, rubbing the dust off her fingers -- the only motion her body makes, grounding in its repetition. "yes. but, well... she collects lots of things. she hoards."

"oh." your voice goes soft, faintly echoing in the empty room. "why?"

"I think to have a sense of control after she dealt with some difficult things." she hesitates, a pierce of guilt stabbing in her as she voices out her next thought. it takes her a minute or so to select the words she wants to express herself with. she could only hope her face doesn't come off as so neutral that you think her heartless. she signs in frustration -- this is why it's so hard to open up. "I dislike visiting home because of it. but, I know I should, especially because..." she might die, and I'll be left to mourn her for decades upon decades. "because, you know, anything can happen."

"I'm sorry, lee." you're far, but she can hear your voice, crystal clear. "that must be hard. but, it's okay to step away from it sometimes, you know? better than forcing yourself and getting resentful, you know? the fact that you're already visiting her is admirable."

lee's ears pick up on your approaching step, as well as the way your jacket makes a scratching noise when you lift your arm, then lower it back down in hesitation. after a moment, you reach up again, and lee tenses as you rub her back through the blazer she had on from work. your palm is so, so warm, even through the fabric. lee can't even remember the last time she felt such warmth, her own body more of a freezing corpse above anything else. 

"thanks." she wishes she could be stronger, and visit her mom more. avoid the cowardly decision of staying away just so she doesn't have to face the ruins of their home, and the longing face of her mother. but, your words ease the shame some. it makes her feel like perhaps she isn't too terrible of a daughter after all.

maybe your words from that first night had some merit.

"you're welcome."

lee gulps at how low your voice sounds, quiet and laced with velvet in the silence of this night. she breathes in shakily, before forcing her gaze to lift to yours. your eyes are latched onto her, tracing every inch of her face, and lee feels her skin itch from the focus of it, almost as though your gaze is your finger, dancing along her features and connecting your skin to hers. or as though it's your tongue.

lee clenches her jaw at the thought, unwanted thoughts now flooding her mind of your tongue stroking her cheek as you press wet, slippery kisses down her neck. 

"why are you staring at me?" she forces out, just for the sake of breaking this tension between the two of you. she doesn't know how to handle something that weighs so much despite being intangible. and even if she did, she wouldn't want to subject you to any pursuit of her. no matter how much she dislikes thinking of it, she will outlive you. you'll age, continue to grow, and she'll be stuck here, just as she is. in a matter of years, she'll probably have to leave oregon in order to avoid arousing suspicions over her unaltered appearance. she suspects she'll need to do so every ten or twenty years. and you don't deserve that. a life so utterly detached from normalcy, comfort and the intimate closeness of moving through the years together.

"I just..." you trail off, your hand sliding down her back. lee nearly sags in relief before she stiffens right back up upon your fingers tenderly cradling her wrist.

"you just?"

"I want to, um..."

lee's body thrums under your touch. it's interesting -- her body is drained of life, nothing but a cold, walking stitch of limbs. but, still, your eyes resting upon her is enough to make her feel revived to life, pumped with energy and heat that makes her feel alive. almost as though she's right back at the moment at having been turned, except this time, she's brought back to the depths, the humiliation, and the fleetingness of humanity and impassioned moments that will die in a mere second, that one could choose to seize, lest they face death without having ever really lived with bravery.

but, she doesn't have the luxury of death being a source of encouragement. 

tugging her wrist from your grasp, she mutters, "let's get going," walking through the door, and heading back outside to her car.

something in her aches when she hears you sniffle from inside the house, but she tries to ignore it. you deserve at least a moment to yourself after what she's done.

she can sense your embarrassment and anger during the next week. you handle her less delicately than usual, and even though she didn't think she needed the special treatment in the first place, to lose it after weeks of being on the receiving end makes her feel a bit emptier. 

she's not sure if you're upset that she dismissed your attempt to -- well, touch her, whatever it was, or if it's because she did it so cruelly and without any later mentions of it. she supposes she could've been gentler. at least give you an explanation as to why she didn't want you doing what you did. but, what would she even say? that she doesn't want it, too? that would be a complete lie. there's a smouldering desire that's been burning these past few weeks, flaming to life when you touch her or get close. to deny all of that, and lie straight to your face, makes her feel wrenched with anxiety. 

but, maybe a lie is permissible in this situation. maybe it's not so immoral when it's to avoid hurting you or allowing you to be tied down to an unknown monster for life. and even if she was known to you, exposed for what she is, she still wouldn't want you to suffer through a life with her.

though, it's hard to convince herself of doing the right thing when she's in your bedroom, watching you recall the date you went on as you undress behind a screen. lee fidgets, a burning jealousy scraping at her stomach, fused with discomfort. when the shadow of your figure lowers the straps of your top behind the screen, she can't help but bite down on her lip, her self-control slowly waning with every new glimpse you give her into the map of your body. lee feels like you're unlocking a new secret to her attention with every new spot revealed, it only causes her thoughts to stray to one specific to her interests. would it be coated in wetness? would it be swollen and thick and weeping for some attention?

she nearly releases a small groan at the mere mental image. she's not sure if the vampirism has stirred her desires to a stronger degree. after all, she did always have wants, fantasies and ideas she played into when between her sheets at night, worn out from a long day at the bureau. but, beyond those private moments, she often did a good job at forcing that lust dormant, pushing it to exist in a deep, hidden nook in her mind that was guarded by shame and hesitation from just how depraved her mental wanderings were. in other words, she was good at reserving those kinds of musings for when she was alone, even if there was someone she was attracted to close by. but, now, all it took was a flash of skin, and her mind was whirring with thoughts of bending you over the bed she's seated on, and ravishing you, over and over, until you're so pliant and drained that any dates are the last thing on your mind. 

when you bend over, and her eyes stray to the shape of your ass then flick away immediately, she sucks in a shuddering breath. she can't do this. even if she knows she can't, and wouldn't, act on those desires, there's no need to sit here and undergo this torturous form of voyeurism. especially paired with the frustration that swarms inside when you tell her how the girl you went out with opened every door for you. she can do that too, don’t you know that?

"listen, I'm, um, glad it went well, but maybe you’re tired, so I think I'll just--"

"but we said we'd hang out," you whine, poking your head from the screen.

lee grits her teeth together. she can't tell if you're doing this innocently, or with the intention of riling her up. her romantic experience is both too limited and too lacking in an understanding of social cues to know. frankly, though, as much as she's entertained your petty words and pitiful looks this week, she's not interested in having to go through the frustrating ordeal of this. "yes, under the impression we'd actually be doing something. not just me watching you relay a date."

"I just wanted your opinion on how it went!"

"is that really all there is to it?" lee snaps back, her voice steady and hard. she's not interested in the petty little games. at least her dishonesty and avoidance is rooted in actual care for you. yours is simply spite. "or are you upset because of what happened last week?"

your eyes widen, lips flapping like a fish. she has her answer.

she sighs at your spluttering. "well?"

"no!"

lee feels her eye twitch. from here, she could hear how hard your heart is thumping. you're nervous, and she's tired. might as well call it a night.

when she moves to leave, you slip out from behind the screen, grabbing onto her arm and tugging hard. but, lee has always been strong, and the changes in her body have only emphasized that even more. she stands there, completely unamused as you try pulling her forward, trying hard not to let her eyes stray down to the trimmings of your bra that are revealed from your shirt’s straps hanging off.

"jesus, you're like a rock."

she hums, simply watching you for a few moments before saying, "can I leave now? is the yanking all you had intended to do?"

you huff loudly, planting your hands on your hips. "I was going to say that you shouldn't just leave in the middle of us talking."

"I wouldn't if you'd just be honest."

"I am!"

"you're not," lee hisses, stepping forward to you. immediately, your back presses against the screen, eyes wide as she leans in closer. she's not sure what's gotten into her, but arousal and irritation make for an ugly combination, sending an urge through her to shut you up but also do it in the most filthy way her mind can think of. "you're upset I left when you were doing whatever it is you were doing in the house. and now, you're trying to… get back at me or something?”

your eyes stray down at that, lashes fanning your cheeks. lee watches you quietly. you look so sweet, so pure, like this. fingers fidgeting at the material of your sweats, the warmth on your face flowing right from your skin to hers. eyes, so shiny in the faint coat of light, casted down in embarrassment. lee grits her teeth. something in her goes slack at the sight of you like this, wanting nothing more than to draw out more humiliation from you. she immediately retracts the thought back. what’s wrong with her?

“fine, I– you’re right.” you sigh, a deep frown planted on your face. “I’m sorry, okay? but, you should’ve been more clear about what you were thinking at that moment when it happened. rather than just leave. that’s what hurt me. not that you didn’t want it, but that you left so… coldly.”

she sighs, wincing at the hurt in your voice. even if she has a good reason for avoiding your advances, she never wants to cause you such pain. she makes a silent vow to tread more carefully next time. not that you’ll make another move after this occasion, most likely. rather than reassure her, the thought only stings lee. it’s selfish, but she doesn’t want the sweet gazes and light touches to reside. “fine. I’m sorry, too. I should’ve actually spoken in that moment. rather than just leave.” she gulps hard. “I’m sorry.”

your throat bobs as you swallow, and lee watches the smooth skin of it roll. it looks soft to the touch, so delicate. lee can imagine how easily you’d bruise, how her teeth would sink in so easily. lee blinks hard, forcing her gaze to shift back up, her center beginning to pulse at the thoughts running through her brain. 

“do you wanna go home?”

honestly? “yeah.” she’s tired of the little games and secrecy, and would prefer to go home and devise a plan as to how to handle this new state of your guys’ friendship.

“okay.” your voice is low and meek, like you’re a wounded child, lee hates it, guilt stabbing at her. maybe she should just stay. “can you unzip this before going, though? really, I can’t do it.” with your gaze slid to the ground, you turn your back to her.

“um, sure.” with trembling fingers, lee raises her hand to the zip, tugging it down. when it doesn’t give on her first two tries, she uses her other hand to pinch the fabric and hold it taut, finally getting the zipper down. as more and more of your back gets revealed, a sprinkle of spots and pimples painted upon it, lee feels her breaths shorten. it doesn’t make sense. she doesn’t even need to breathe in the first place. but, habit is a hard thing to let go of, her body all too accustomed to the little rituals its been wound up for since birth.

she can hear and feel every little puzzle piece of your body’s reactions. your increase in heart rate, the heat sinking into every morsel of skin on your neck and face, your breathing shattering into tiny pants. it’s overwhelming, to say the least – she’s always been observant of these things, but ever since she got turned, they’re now thrusted onto her, relentlessly. it stimulates her without limitation, especially considering most of the time, she doesn’t even know what to do with these cues and hints.

when her blunt nails brush against your back, she tenses up at the sight of you squirming, her grip tightening on the fabric on instinct. to know she has this effect on you makes her head spin. she never thought she’d be capable of such a thing.

you lean back against her, your shoulder blades brushing her chest, and she nearly gasps, fingers twisting into the fabric of your top. when your head dips back to lean on her shoulder, her eyes flutter shut. god, she can smell your skin. forget that, she can smell your blood. it smells sweet, the aroma filling her nostrils to the brim and almost making her feel drunk in the way it tips her entire world over. animal’s blood only satisfies so much, she knows that. when she works too many hours, and forgets to feed, she needs to zoom past everyone when leaving the bureau, for close contact makes her muscles seize, her eyes burn, and her gums ache with the fangs itching to lash out and sink. it’s a human’s blood she craves the most. but, she has no desire to put anyone in that position. 

and so, for now, she settles for inhaling a deep whiff of your scent, her nose brushing against your jaw. her eyes squeeze shut as she sucks it in, greedy for it. so achingly greedy. she wants to shove you on that bed, strip you naked so she can push the tip of her nose into every plush point of your body and just breathe you in until it’s as close to drinking as she can get. her hands begin to shake with the want of it. 

you must feel it, for you ask, “you okay?”

god, lee shouldn’t be doing this. she can’t tell you what she is – it’s too much of a burden and responsibility on you, and for her own sake, she swore she’d keep it secret to prevent any complications. and even if she did, in a hypothetical and non-existent future, tell you what she was, she’d have no intention of letting you be with her, nor being on the receiving end of her obligatory feeding. she doesn’t want to hold you responsible for that. she can’t. 

with a jolt, she releases you, backing away. “I–I should go.” her voice is like stone, steady and hard with the way she forces it to be drained of any ounce of arousal or excitement. 

“okay, I–” you swallow, slowly turning to her. lee can’t even meet your eyes. but, she can pick up on the way your fingers rub together. “I’ll see you later?”

she nods. she can’t imagine staying away.

as she turns the doorknob to your bedroom door, you whisper, “lee?” 

she stills herself. “yeah?” 

“do you– did you want what I wanted? last week, at the house?”

she remains silent, her body feeling like it’s been webbed into stone.

“I’m guessing that’s a no.”

the hurt in your voice slams into her like ice, and she continues to freeze in its midst. she doesn’t want you feeling such pain, not in her hands. and lying was an option, but now that she’s faced with the decision of doing so, she finds herself speechless. how can she lie, when you’re so open and waiting? monster she is, she’s too human to resist fibbing under your gaze. she braces herself, choosing her words cautiously. vague enough that she can take time alone to figure things out afterwards, but enough of a confirmation to sate you for now. she could always admit her feelings, then later tell you she’s simply not in a position for a relationship.

and so, she leaves you with, “‘no’ would be the easier answer.”

she leaves before you can say anything.

and in a cruel twist of irony, the next time she sees you is during a moment where most people would expect her to be close to dying. if there is a god, her mom was right about him having a sense of humor. we plan, god laughs.

her and carter hadn’t seen him fast enough, and in a blow to her ears and a jolting tumble to the ground, she was shot in the arm. 

carter had managed to get him in the knee and disarm him, but they couldn’t wait for backup to come. both of them knew if their coworkers arrived, they’d insist on taking lee to a hospital. and if that happened, her secret would be unveiled.

and so, carter had carried her to his car, letting her lie in the back seat, and drove her home quickly, muttering breathless apologies everytime a speed bump sent her lurching, bile rising in her throat. 

she supposed it was a comfort, to know she wasn’t going to die. it ought to have been. but, the fear she first felt when the bullet struck her, seeping into her skin and lodging its way through, had actually been a relief. for a split second, she had been fooled into thinking her life was a fragile thing, the temporary nature of which resurfaces in life-or-death moments like these. she had actually felt human, like she belongs with the people she used to share the label of species with. it felt nice, to feel human again.

but, then, the pain settled in. and it only flashes hotter in her arm when her and carter arrive, and you’re sitting on the steps of her porch, waiting upon her return. 

all she remembers is the deep creases embedded into your forehead as you rushed to her side, shakily gripping the uninjured arm that slings as carter helps her to the door. and the way your voice reaches an inconceivably high pitch as you screech, “what are you doing? we need to take her to a fucking hospital!”

“you should leave,” carter grunts as he kicks down the door to lee’s home, immediately setting her down on the couch. “I’ll look after her here.”

“no, no, but I should help–”

“let me handle this, you can visit her tomo–”

“it’s okay,” lee mutters, her eyes half-lidded, the stinging ache in her arm seizing every inch with a death grip. “it’s okay. I trust…” she nods in your direction, too exhausted to explain your presence to carter. she’s only mentioned you as the someone she met during her night out, but kept it to herself afterwards. as she did with most things when it came to carter or anyone else at work. she probably would’ve never confided in carter about her true nature had it not been for him bearing witness to it. but, in a way, she’s glad. she doesn’t know how she would’ve managed juggling every other part of her life without his help and commitment to keeping her secret safe. even now, he’s still eyeing you warily, as though debating as to whether or not you can be trusted.

and she’s not so sure, either. you two have only known each other for a few months, and maybe that’s not a reasonable amount of time to measure up to trusting you with a secret this gave. but, in the throes of pain, the nonsensical reach for survival, she knows in her guts that she trusts you. and feelings don’t measure to fact, so yeah, maybe she shouldn’t act on this notion. but, she can’t find it in herself to care about turning over and inspecting every possible outcome of having this revealed to you. it’s not like you’ll actually agree to leave, and lee needs to heal herself. now. you’ll see her in her true state, using her powers, no matter what. the worries of burdening you, of you letting the truth out – lee can deal with it later.

“really, it’s okay,” lee murmurs, rolling her head onto her shoulder, panting heavily. “I just… help me.” the words taste new and unfamiliar on her tongue, feeling open and almost childlike in the small plea laced into them. she needs you both right now.

with some shuffling movements and awkward hands, you and carter manage to slide off her work jacket and unbutton her shirt so that one side is draped down her arm, the wound revealed. it’s a gaping hole with metal lodged in, smeared with blood and ripped flesh, searing with pain. she knows it’s not nearly as bad as what a full human would experience upon a gun wound, but jesus, it hurts.

carter turns his back to her for privacy’s sake. “take your time.”

she first did it when she got cut when cooking. she did it again when she had gotten badly bruised during an investigation of an old farmhouse with carter. she’s managed success every time, and she’s certain this time won’t be any different. 

her eyes flicker to you. she doesn’t want to show you this part of her. but, she knows you don’t intend to leave her side. and if you do abide by her wishes and look away, then turn back to see her magically healed, you’ll never believe her if she makes up an excuse or tells you the truth. and she’s not exactly in the right state to come up with a lie, anyways, for the healing process will be exhausting. it’s the truth on display, even in spite of the protest raging in her, the worries that you’ll leave upon realizing how monstrous she is. it’s now or never. 

she clears her throat and wordlessly gathers up spit in her mouth while raising her uninjured arm, hand cupped and ready to gather the wetness that comes dribbling from her mouth. she avoids eye contact with you the entire time, entirely conscious of just how… feral and unappealing this must all look to you. but, she can tell you’re perplexed, disgusted maybe, due to the still silence surrounding the two of you. 

the spilled saliva in her palm is delicately pressed to her wound, and she hisses at the contact. but, immediately, her body begins to run into overdrive, the inner-workings of it churning and rolling to push energy to the tender bit of pierced skin. immediately, her skin starts crawling in on itself, weaving back together and meeting at the center, the bullet slowly getting pushed out of the gaping hole as it sews itself back together.

she drinks in a deep breath, then wills herself to meet your gaze. in another circumstance, she would’ve smiled at the way your eyes bulge out in wonder, mouth agape as your gaze wildly runs up and down her body.

“lee, what the actual fuck?”

at first, you leave, much to carter and lee’s concern, the two of them exchanging questioning stares, which are alert with the question of: will you tell? but, then, in a matter of twenty minutes, you return, and sit right down in front of lee, demanding she tell you everything.

and so, she does. she explains how it happened without mincing words (which may account for why carter winces a bit), how she’s been managing since, and some features of her vampirism, trying to keep the more bloody ones tucked away under vague explanations, such as, “every few days, I need to, um, feed.” but, when your eyes widen imperceptibly, her stomach sinks, and she hastily adds, “not humans. animals.”

your silent question makes her feel slightly sick. did you not trust her at all? though, she couldn’t fault you. she herself doubts her humanity and goodness everyday, and she’s the one living in this lifeless host. the host that would be unfurling and rotting if not for the powers she’s so repulsed by.

that night, you send carter off, insisting you’ll take care of lee. she wishes, privately, that you’d let her be, for it’s only a matter of time until her body will demand replenishment. then, again, she hasn’t suffered from an injury this serious since she was turned. she doesn’t even know if she has it in herself to hunt for prey, not when her body is so depleted and weak. but, what choice does that lead her then?

as you change the sheets to her bed, for she drenches them every evening from over-sweating, her eyes roam over your figure, languidly skimming over every dip or curve. there’s a solution to her problems right in front of her. but, she refuses to engage in it. she can’t help but fear the addiction human blood might trade to her in order to have the sweet taste of it filling her mouth and coating her gums. she can’t put herself in that position, not when it might lead to this happening more than once. she doesn’t want you tethered to that. sure, it may not happen – it may just be a one-time thing and she’ll manage. but, the possibility of an alternative path is too much.

you help her back to the bed with an arm hugging at her waist, warm and soft even though the fabric of her old t-shirt. when you lower her, she’s reminded of past memories, kinder ones, of her mother looking after her like this. she doesn’t enjoy the vulnerability that comes with being taken care of, but every other part of it – the tenderness in your hands, the way you’re alert to all her needs, the brief touches… those feel nice.

by the second day you’ve stayed with her, lee feels it edging on. her stomach is beginning to faintly grumble, the craving beginning to set into its motion. she’d resist it, ignore it, if it weren’t for the fact that she needs it in order to regain energy and complete the final stage of her healing. otherwise, she will continue to be weakened by the exertion it took her body to heal itself.

and, so, she tentatively brings it up with you, mouth twitching in half-amusement when you raise an eyebrow and say, “hunt? I can’t do that for shit.”

“well, I need you to,” she mutters. “carter’s swamped at the bureau right now for his trip to washington, so this is the only option.”

“ah, well, I do love being a last resort,” you drawl.

she rolls her eyes. “it’s not about being a last resort. this is just the situation we’re in.”

you sigh, glancing down at the gun she had handed to you. “but, I don’t know if I have it in me to, you know, do that.”

lee’s lips fold in, guilt piercing through her stomach. she hates to ask this of you. she hates doing it herself in the first place, and she needs it for sustenance. she can’t imagine how it must feel for you, whose life does not depend on it. but, she doesn’t know what else to do. she rummages through ideas for a few seconds, anything that can make this easier. 

“maybe, um, you can drive my car out deeper into the forest. and we park there, wait, then I can shoot it.”

you wince at the proposition, and lee chews her bottom lip, wishing she had been more delicate in the vocalization of it.

but, ultimately, you agree, saying if it’s for her health, you’d do anything. lee supposes it was meant to be a comforting sentiment, but it only makes her feel embarrassed and ashamed. for even when she is at a state where she ought to be stronger, she still needs assistance from someone else. and the worst of it is the fact that in this instance, your assistance requires you to sacrifice your morals.

and so, you drive her car to the woods. you wedge your eyes shut, crinkles and all, as she aims and shoots a rabbit. as per her request, you look away and turn up the music as she weakly crawls to it and drains it of its blood. lee wipes her hands and mouth clean of the sin, her stomach squeezing in hot, curdling shame as she returns to the car. she could only hope you stuck to your word and didn’t look. when she looks at herself in the door’s side mirror and sees a spot of blood remaining splattered on her chin, she feels her eyes burn in humiliation.

you two go back, and she waits for her energy to be fully replenished.

something that never comes.

the blood helps, but only some. she waits, hours and hours, and still, she cannot walk or stand for long before needing to sit down. when you two separate for the night, you resting on her couch just as you’ve been for the past two nights despite her protests that you should take the bed, she can’t help but feel a sense of dread wash over her. this isn’t how animal feeding is supposed to work. this isn’t how it ever works. it usually sustains lee and provides her with enough energy and strength for three days, maybe four if she stretches it out. but, then again, she’s never relied on said diet after receiving such a harsh injury. 

she reconciles the situation by deciding that upping the dosage might be the required course of action. and so, you two repeat the same line of events the next day, and she feeds. and again, she returns home, hands fiddling in her lap as she sits up in her bed. but, still, it doesn’t go away – the light-headedness, the exhaustion, the inability to move for long.

she knows you pick up on it too, for the next morning, you sit on the edge of her bed, shooting her a soft, wary smile. “do vampires have special doctors or something?”

“not that I know of.” she sighs, resting back on the headboard. while your question was spoken light-heartedly, she truly has been meaning to get back into contact with the family that turned her. though part of her, a huge one at that, still despises what she’s turned into, she knows being acquainted with other creatures like herself will make situations like this, ones where she’s still untrained and, therefore, at risk, easier to understand. 

your smile slowly fades, and lee’s lips pinch in, wishing she had joked back with you. “I’m worried about you, lee. you still seem really weak.”

“you don’t have to worry,” she mutters, eyes downcast. “it’s not your responsibility.”

“stop that,” you interject, shifting your body closer, lee instinctively flinching from the proximity. when she feels you move back, she swallows down the protest, waiting for you to continue. “I’m not doing this out of obligation. I’m doing this because I care about you.”

that’s the problem. if you were doing it out of obligation, lee could at least assure herself that you’re deriving some self-satisfaction from doing something that fulfills a responsibility on your end. but, when it’s all dependent on pure care, it feels burdensome for you. you’re doing this all for her. and she isn’t certain how to deal with that. beneath it all, though, is gratitude, warm and comforting. she doesn’t like being anything other than self-sufficient, but if she has to be, you’re one of the only people she’d feel at least mildly comfortable doing so with.

“I know,” she responds, forcing her eyes to meet yours. “but, at this point, our options are limited. and soon, I’ll get too hungry, and it won’t be safe for you here.”

you lick your lips, blinking hard at her. she feels uneasy with the possibility that you’re growing to fear her, now that you’ve borne witness to the uncontrollable nature of her desire for blood.

which is why she freezes when you say, “well, why don’t you take my blood then?”

her eyes, wide and straining, are fixed on the blanket, a flash of thoughts blasting through her mind. why would you ask such a thing? where did you even get that idea from? sure, like most people, you’ve probably always been aware about vampires’ tendencies to feed on humans. but, what could’ve caused you to get the idea that you and her should do that?

worse than her lack of answers is the stirring in her stomach, the quiet rumbling. it’s like an ugly beast has turned its head, reminding her of what she is, what she needs. she sucks in a shaky breath, trying to tame it.

at her pained silence, you continue, your voice slow with what she senses is trepidation, as though she’s a wounded animal. “listen, lee, I did some research with the books in here – the ones you bought on vampires and all that. and human blood is more reviving for you guys than animal blood. so, like, maybe you just–”

“no.”

you blow a puff of air, sharp and hard. “lee, now’s not the time to be stubborn.”

she shakes her head. “no. I won’t let it happen. you can’t– no, we don’t do it.”

“lee!” you scoff, your voice rising to a borderline squeak. “what the hell is the alternative?”

her jaw clenches. she racks her mind for something, anything, other than trying this – especially when this includes something that she’s never done before and therefore isn’t sure how much restraint she’ll have with it, as well as how desirous she’ll be for more afterwards. “I-I don’t know. maybe I’ll continue trying with animals, and it’s just a matter of time until it works. and if it doesn’t, I’ll, I don’t know, call carter. he’ll be back in two days, and–”

“and what? you’ll drink from him, but not me?”

lee’s eyes flick up at your wayward tone. “yes.” 

you splutter, eyes burning into her. “why?” 

“because I–” I know that carter won’t continue giving me his blood if he believes it’s going too far. I know he doesn’t care for me in the same way as you do, so he won’t give up too much of himself. I’m scared for you in a way that’s incomparable. I think your blood will be all the more tempting because it’s yours. “I just think it’s riskier for you.”

“why, because you think I can’t handle it? or, like, it’ll be less effective to drink from me?”

she can hear the way your voice breaks, and inhales a steadying breath to keep her own levelled, firm – rational. “no. it’s not a competition, okay? I just don’t want to do that to you.”

“but, why?”

“because, carter won’t give in if he feels it’s going too far. but, you will.”

you flinch, and lee hisses quietly at the sight. “what, so you think I’m just gonna be, like, stupid and let you do anything to me?”

“I never said that.” she ponders on her phrasing for a few seconds, before slowly saying, “I just– you and I share a… personal relationship. more than I do with carter. because of that, I’m worried you’ll be more lenient about how much or how often I can, well, drink from you. especially considering I may ask for more, or too much, once I get a taste. I’ve never had human blood, so my first taste might make me more prone to requesting for more. but, if this injury really does demand human blood, I want to drink it once, then never again so long as I can help it.”

“okay, so then I’ll leave for a few hours after you feed once, so that there’s no chance I give you more. or, I don’t know, I leave for a few hours, and you call to let me know if you feel energized afterwards so you have to digest it before taking more blood. and if you don’t feel better, we can deal with the situation then.”

she shifts. could that work? no, no – not a chance. even if it could work, that’s only by chance. “still, I don’t want to.”

“why?” you cry out, shifting further to peer into lee’s eyes, which flicker about. “if the difference between carter versus me is that he’ll ensure you stop, and I promise to do the same, then what difference does it make?”

her eyes widen, something in her chest twisting. you care so deeply, so effortlessly, without bounds. lee can’t help but admire it, even if it’s to her own detriment right now. you’re just too good.

“because I–” she turns away, gritting her teeth. “I’m more scared for you.” her voice lowers at the vulnerable admission.

“but, why?”

she says nothing, her fingers curling tighter into the sheet. she trusts in you to put the pieces together. she had already indicated her feelings last week, and has suspected since that you must, at least vaguely, know of them. and so, she doesn’t imagine it’ll take long for you to figure out her meaning.

after a moment, you quietly say, “oh.”

she nods. “so, no. we won’t do it.”

“lee.” your tone softens, breaking at the edges into something delicate and fragile. you shift closer, your hand resting on hers. she jerks in surprise from the contact, feeling her breath still when your other hand slides to her face, turning her gaze towards yours. your eyes are wide and imploring, eyebrows drawn in what she suspects is concern. “please. you need this. and I want to do this because I care for you. and I know that you’ll be extra careful because you… care for me.” you hesitate at the word “care,” and lee wishes you knew just how much she cares, and wants, and needs. “I trust you, okay? we can take preventative measures to be careful. and, wouldn’t you prefer to do it for the first time with someone who’s, um, a friend?”

her eye twitches at that word, but she shakes it off, trying to resist the part of her that is beginning to lean into your proposition. it’s hard to do so, though, considering the rules and regulations you’re laying on the line, which even she has to admit is giving the situation a more comforting level of structure. it’s making her mind wander, wondering if the measures you speak of are enough to secure a safe exchange. she’s aching for it, her bones weary and her insides deprived of the hot, strong energy usually surging through it. and with each argument you put out, her stomach pulsates stronger for it.

“no. I-I might be too tempted to keep going, to keep drinking if I…” she clears her throat, voice lowering. “... like it.”

“then, we’ll tie you up or something!”

that gives lee pause. her lips purse together, mind running a mile a minute. what if that’s the solution? she’s certain she could, eventually, undo anything you could tie or lock her with. but, if it’s something strong, like her handcuffs, it’d take her enough time to undo it to secure your departure if she’s tempted to do anything particularly… depraved.

at her pondering, you seem to realize that she’s considering it. “c’mon, lee, just do it.”

her eyes flutter close. it’s almost as though you think she needs to be coaxed into drinking your blood. but, that’s not true at all. what scares her most is the fact that every cell in her body is pinched and stretched with the desire to lean into you, bury her face in your skin and sink her teeth in until warm, wet splashes of your blood burst in her mouth. the only thing she needs convincing of is how safe it is to give into that desire, how she can ensure you won’t be burdened or pained.

“I– I don’t want you doing it just for me,” she murmurs, her chest still tugging with resistance. “it’s an… intimate process, and you don’t have to do it just for me. we can find another way, or, well, I can and–”

“lee,” you say, your voice hardened with a stern undertone. “I want to, okay? and I am comfortable. a bit anxious, yeah, about how it’ll feel. but, we can stop if it hurts, right?”

“that’s what I mean – what if I’m not able to stop?”

“lee, you just fed yesterday – I don’t think you’re desperate enough to not stop right as we start.”

she shakes her head. you’re too trusting – she can barely stomach herself and how unkempt her desire is. and you’re here, plainly talking about it, declaring the faith you have in her as though she’s not more beast than human. as though you see and know of these monstrous, dark wants in her and are so hopeful of the person she is that you do not notice them. or worst, that you do acknowledge them and have an easier time embracing them than herself. she doesn’t know if it’s a testament to naivete on your part, or proof of self-loathing on hers. “I don’t know.”

“well, I know. and I’m willing to try if it means you’ll get better.” you cup her jaw, tilting her face up. “please?” 

her breath shudders. she shouldn’t she knows she shouldn’t, but you’re going to keep coming up with solutions because you’re sweet. and her resolve is going to keep breaking with each one you serve, the hunger getting too strong. so, with eyes squeezed shut, she gives you a curt nod. 

you go with the handcuffs, chaining lee to her bed post. doing it requires you to sit in her lap, and lee needs to intentionally keep her breathing steady from the warmth of your body so intimately close to hers. but, as you wind your arms around her torso, perching your chin on her shoulder to get a good sight of the handcuffs, she becomes hyper-aware of everything about you. the plush of your thighs entrapping hers, the tickle of your hair brushing her cheek, how your breathing is stuttering and your heart is pounding. you’re just as nervous as she is. it only deepens her own fear, sending it plummeting into the hollow of her stomach. you guys also set an alarm for ten minutes – according to her calculations, it’s not nearly enough time to drain you of a harmful amount of blood, so it works.

when you lean back, your nose brushes past the lobe of her ear and a small shiver snakes down her spine. she prays for some refuge from this desire hanging around her neck and tightening with no relent. but, instead you remain where you are. her eyes remain stuck to your neck to avoid your gaze, which she can feel the weight of resting upon her.

“lee, should we start?”

she licks her lips, anxiety beginning to tie her body into twists and knots, tight and nauseating. slowly. she has to go slowly, cautiously and while paying close attention to how your body responds to her touch. she vows to do that, devoted to ensuring your safety and comfort. 

“mm, okay,” she quietly affirms.

“look at me,” you mutter, voice so breathy and low that it’s almost as though it’s a tangible object on the brink of shattering.

she abides by your request. she’d do anything you ask at this moment, really. anything to make this easier, anything to translate the gratitude that pools beneath the disbelief and fear at what you’re letting her do to you.

you watch her with eyes that are relaxed, steady. nothing like lee, who wishes to break away from the stare as soon as possible. it’s unnerving, yet lee holds onto it as an anchor. your courage and trust in this situation is what’s propelling it forward, what’s holding it at the seams. she wants to rely on it, just as you’re relying on herself to handle you with care. 

“it’ll be okay.”

three words and it makes lee’s mouth twist in emotion, her eyes beginning to burn faintly. but, she doesn’t give herself over to the urge. not like this, not when she needs to remain level-headed.

“I just…” she’s close enough to count your lashes, and she almost does – anything to distract her from the next words she utters. “I don’t want to hurt you. I want you safe.”

your lips slowly curl up, and it makes the skin by your eyes crinkle. how you have it in you to smile in this moment, she doesn’t know. “and you’re sweet for that. but, I trust you to keep to that, okay?”

“why?” she asks. “you’ve only just found out what I am.”

“and? I’ve known for months who you are. and that, to me, matters more. in fact, part of who you are is the fact that you’re this. and I don’t think that that, like, exists separately from the parts of you that are loyal, just and smart. I think it coincides with them. it’s just who you are, and so it wouldn’t make me distrust you. because, well, I trust all of you. not just parts.”

lee’s teeth make a soft click as they crash together and grind, trying to keep her emotions at bay. maybe she could set some time aside to think about this and cry later, but not now. now, the two of you had a goal to complete. but, still, compartmentalizing is easy only in theory after what you just said. for months, she has experienced a range of emotions, from discomfort to complete disgust, with what she’s transformed into, considering it a part of herself that she cannot bear to accept as being infused with her core being. rather, she’s seen it as a faraway facet of her existence, something she was forced into, and may have to adjust her life to, but that she wants bearing no significance in the long run. like a sort of parasite. so, for you to emphasize how infused that part is within her makes her feel not only uncomfortable, but unnerved, because she knows that in the union of these parts, you don’t turn away. you don’t look at her the way she sees herself. you see her as a whole, entirely filled figment that you will openly embrace. because you trust who she is beyond the division of human and monster. 

“thank you,” she manages to force out, not wanting your words to go unacknowledged. one day, she’ll tell you what they mean to her. she has to.

you two lock eyes after that, yours boring into hers with a focus that makes her shift underneath you. instinctually, your hands raise, gripping her shoulders tightly. she swallows hard, the sting of your nails digging past the fabric of her sweater making her body strain with the urge to squirm. and there’s something about knowing you’re depending on her to stay balanced that forms a warm pleasure in her abdomen. 

“of course.” after a moment, you shuffle closer on her lap, and lee nearly groans. you only stop once you two are nearly chest to chest, her eyes levelled with your nose. after a moment, you raise your chin up, revealing the slope of your neck to her. “we can start.”

her breaths begin to tremble, the momentum of the occasion feeling heavy on her mind. she can do this. you can do this. she doesn’t believe herself, of course, but she hopes with enough repetition it’ll absorb into her brain, even if just barely.

she leans in, her warm breath coating your skin. this close to you, she can hear the faint tremors of your breath, and she shuts her eyes in guilt. god, what is wrong with her? you’ve tried so hard to reassure her this entire time, and she’s barely done the same for you, too clouded by her self-doubt and anxieties to do so.

“hey,” she murmurs, raising her mouth to your ear. “it’s me. it’s us. I’ll take care of you, okay? I’ll be careful, and I, um, may not know how I’ll react. but, I’m going to try my hardest to make sure you’re safe. okay?” 

your fingertips press harder into her shoulders, which flex automatically. “I know you will.”

she gulps. “still, I wanted you to hear it from me.” just to emphasize it, she leans back, her eyes locking onto yours, which gleam prettily from the orange light of her bedside table. she forces the thought away – now’s not the time. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. but, I’m gonna make sure you’re okay.”

you nod, your lips curling into a gentle smile. “just–just go slow, okay? so, I can call it quits if it hurts too much.”

she nods immediately. “yeah.” after a pause, she adds, “we really don’t have to–”

“lee, I want to,” you repeat, once again, grip tightening on her. “trust me on this.”

she sucks in a shaky breath. she supposes that’s all there is to this. her trusting your strength, you trusting her fragility. “okay.” 

when you give her one more affirmative nod, she lowers her head back to your neck, slowly, carefully. the sight of the spot, different freckles and pimples sprinkled about it, has her stomach shifting with longing, the ache for a taste beginning to stir stronger. it hisses at her, makes her feel like your neck is beckoning her forward. 

your arms envelope her neck. “is this okay? can I… can I hold you, lee?”

surprisingly, she finds that she doesn’t want to deny you. your arms around her feel steadying, something to focus on and absorb the sensation of when the entire world seems to be spinning. something to focus her thoughts on momentarily, sink into the feel of so that not every single sense of hers is anxiously pinpointed onto the impending bite. something to shudder against and find a bit of comfort and solace in when she’s about to expose to you the horrors of what she’s become. 

“it’s okay,” she breathes, her head dipped against your shoulder. your hands smooth over the fabric of her sweater, easing into gentle, rhythmic circles that loosen the tension in her body. it feels as though this touch translates your support, your affection, and is another way of reminding her that you are here for her despite the horrific display she’s about to put on. and it means so much to her – that kind of unwavering loyalty, especially coming from you, the one she holds in such esteem. the one a stray part of her has been wanting to be held by for an aching number of months right now. your touch is so unfamiliar, and it feels so solid and real against lee. something finally flung out of her dreams. it makes her want to pull away, put distance so that she can reside in the familiar place of physical isolation. but, she knows it’s just her own stumbles and struggles with intimacy causing this strain. because if she closes her eyes, and pretends this is something you two have done before, something she’s good at, she’s able to sag against you, sigh as your fingers dip into the strands of her hair.

finally, she leans back, her breath ghosting against your neck once more. she marvels at your sensitivity, goosebumps immediately breaking over your skin at the cool puff. she can hear your breaths growing shorter, faster, and she repeats, once more, “it’ll be okay.”

your grip in her hair tightens slightly, and her eyes squeeze shut at the slight pain. “I know. I just keep telling myself it’s like a piercing, or a shot.”

her lips twitch, fondness breaking through. “yeah.” she opts to say nothing else, not wanting to shatter your self-assurance.

with a heavy breath, she closes her eyes, letting her fangs protrude out of her gums, the act sending a slight ache into her mouth. once she adjusts to the newly extended teeth, she leans forward, grazing them against the tender skin of your neck, wanting you to get a sense of what’s to come. 

you suddenly shiver against her, and lee swallows down a noise at the indication of how sensitive you are. when she does it again, she knows it’s a lie to say it’s solely to help you adjust, her body feeling completely on edge when you softly gasp again, your fingers wound tight in her brown streams of hair.

“still okay?”

“yeah,” you heave, the nails of your other hand digging into lee’s back. she nearly groans at the sensation, the hunger beginning to grow stronger in her guts, mixing with arousal at having you so close to her, so pliant and waiting. it’s to help her feed and survive, but she can’t help but wonder just how submissive you’d be in other contexts.

“are you sure?”

“mhm,” you hum, the noise slightly squeaky. that, paired with the flush of heat crawling along your skin, which lee catches onto as soon as it snakes over you, are indicators enough that the intimacy of the moment isn’t lost on you.

“I’m gonna do it now,” she whispers. the declaration is for both you and herself. she’s never been a person of words, but in this moment, she believes that her announcement of the act is the only thing that’ll push her forward to go through with it. 

you tense against her, and lee suddenly wishes she wasn’t handcuffed, that maybe she could comfort you too. it’s an unfamiliar urge. “okay.” 

you trust her. you trust her more than she trusts herself. lee reminds herself of this, focused on the fact that even if she doesn’t like herself in this form, nor has a lot of faith in herself in it, you do. and even if you didn’t, she took it upon herself to care for and protect you the moment she first called you to meet again all those months ago. and for those reasons, she owes it to you to store some certainty in herself that she won’t hurt you and won’t lose control. she’ll trust herself, at least for you.

her eyes are wide and focused, her breaths still as her teeth easily give way into your skin, piercing the surface of it, which is soft and taut. it’s almost like biting into a soft, creamy dish, easily breakable and so much more delicate than one ever anticipates. she goes slowly, willing herself with repetitive mantras to take her time and listen closely for signs of anxiety or discomfort from you. while your grip on her tightens, heart continuing to thud fast and hard against the confines of your chest, you say nothing.

her fangs sink in a bit deeper, totally breaking the barrier of skin as the thin tip of them dip in, and lee finds herself entranced by the feeling. becoming a vampire has taught her of the fragility of the human body she encompassed before she was turned. the kind of energy and strength that ran through her body after being turned, the capabilities she possessed in her everyday experience, were unmatched to anything she was physically capable of prior. so, she’s well-aware of the weakness of the human body. but, she never thought your skin would be this soft, this tender.

“ah,” you suddenly wince, gripping onto lee’s head tighter.

she stills her movements, torn between pulling back to ask if you’re okay or remaining frozen. if it turns out you are okay and want her to continue, then she’ll have to undergo the process of re-inserting her fangs, which may cause you more pain. but, maybe you’re in so much pain you need her to stop and take them out now. she racks her mind for a few moments, before humming lightly, hoping that probes you for a response.

“I’m okay, I just,” you softly gasp. “it just hurts a bit, but I think it’s getting better. just keep still.”

lee’s stomach tightens with the knowledge of you in pain, the fact that’s caused by her only making the guilt pierce harder. she takes your words diligently, remaining frozen, tongue still locked into her mouth, not daring to taste your blood until you’ve confirmed you’re okay. god knows what she’ll do if she lets herself taste it right now.

after a few more soft pants, lee can hear your heartbeat slow down, your hands beginning to stroke her hair, nails lightly scratching against her scalp. lee’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation, feeling utterly doted on, the itching sensation giving her an unexpected wash of satisfaction. it’s almost embarrassing – she’s right on the edge of tasting your blood, and head scratches are what have her sagging in your arms. that, paired with your other hand continuing to rub between her shoulder blades, feels like the closest she’s gotten to a massage in years. even in spite of carter urging her to go to one after she spends hours in all sorts of positions and contortions on the ground when sorting out evidence.

“it feels better,” you slowly say, your tone low and hesitant, as though you’re confused. “it just stings now, I don’t know why.”

lee wonders if her saliva is already helping you prematurely before she even heals the wound. maybe it falling from her open mouth, and mixing in with the process of biting, is helping you handle the injury. lee can’t help but desperately hope for that, wanting to eliminate as much pain as she can.

“you can keep going.”

she blinks, her stomach flaring to life at your permission. with her nose digging into the soft skin of your neck, she can smell the sweet nectar of your blood. her limbs stiffen in anticipation for it, shoulder straining as she lets her teeth sink in further. as she enters you, the curve of her teeth curling just right into your flesh, her breaths get shallow, hitching in excitement as she finally feels that first, warm splash along her tongue.

she can’t help it. she immediately moans, eyes squeezing shut as the first drops of your blood, leaking from the puncture wounds of your skin, smear along her lips and run onto her tongue. it’s so warm, sharp in how utterly sweet it tastes, and as it slithers down the length of the muscle, she trembles against you. her stomach twists, begging for more. to let these few measly droplets be the only tastes she gets of you seems impossible, but she scrunches her eyebrows together in focus, tensing as she gives you a moment to feel your way through her first sip. she wishes she could see your face, know what you’re thinking. 

“was that enough?” you whisper softly, stroking through her hair. “hum once for yes, twice for no.”

lee hesitates, then gives her honest answer. the blood she took from you was so little that it hasn’t even slid down her throat.

“take more,” you say, your voice hard with determination and surety.

lee’s head is whirring so much with the first brief taste of you, her entire body shaking in your arms for more, tight at the mere lick of euphoria. she can’t wait for another confirmation from you and immediately presses her lips against your neck in an open-mouthed kiss, teeth fully embedding into your skin. your blood bursts from the two small stabs, gushing into her mouth and sliding down the slope of her teeth and down her tongue. when it travels through her throat, lee whimpers at how easily it runs down, smooth and slippery, burying itself into her guts and infusing with the raging hunger that she’s forced to lay dormant for months. 

she gets so lost in the milky sensation of it, flowing so easily through her body and feeling like a dunk of ice cold water on a steaming hot day. so lost that she nearly misses a soft noise that comes from you. just nearly. but, as her mind registers it, and she hears another, her body tenses with the realization that you’re – you’re moaning.

though her insides wail for her not to, she forces herself to remain still, content to continue swallowing down the gulps of blood already pooled at the center of her tongue as she awaits something, anything, from you. though the spot between her legs is throbbing from the quiet, high noise that had drifted from your lips, she tells herself to focus, listen in for any signs of your discomfort.

but, then, you’re tugging on her hair, and you sound like you’re pleading for mercy when you say, “lee, don’t stop. ah, it feels nice.”

lee’s eyes bulge at that, the news taking her several long moments to fully absorb before she begins to suck again. but, even as she does, her mind is seized by equal measures of curiosity and confusion. why does it feel good? how does it feel good? could it be her saliva?

but, then, more of your warm, velvety blood seeps into her mouth, sliding between the gaps and curves of her teeth, filling the cavern of her mouth with fresh honey that has her feeling nearly drunk off of ecstasy the more she hungrily tightens and gulps down more. and, then, god, you make that fucking noise again – a high pitched, broaken little whine that has lee’s fingers tightening into the metal of the handcuffs still chained to her. you tug hard on her hair, and lee groans at the sting of it, the sensation pulling her out of the chains of logic and rationality and into the hot, burning throes of pleasure. her mind is wrapped in the silks of hunger satiated, the pure delight and high of it softening every sensible truth she’s ever known.

she pushes her mouth harder, teeth pushing in with a fervour her first bite didn’t possess before. she’s about to pause, fear springing into her that she went too far, but then you jerk in her lap, crying out, your arms tightening around her neck. 

“oh,” you mewl out, “do that again.”

fuck. lee will do it a thousand times if it means she gets to become surrounded with more of those noises.

she pushes in harder and you instinctively grind on her crotch again, inciting a grunt from lee. she doesn’t feel much from the friction of it, but the mere fact that your pleasure is so great to stir up movement like this has her tipping into something akin to hazy obsession. 

“sorry,” you gasp, “was that okay? one hum for yes–”

lee gives a firm, short hum. somewhere in the back of her mind, there’s the nagging voice that this can be precarious for your friendship, but she doesn’t care. she can’t care, not when you’re writhing on her lap, pliant for the taking, lost in pleasure just like her. when will she ever have the nerve to do this again? when will lee harker, in any other moment of her life, let herself fling into such reckless abandon, with her reservations crumbled by sheer arousal?

she shoves her face into the warm slope of your neck, prodding her teeth in deeper, your blood gushing into her mouth and coating it as she continues drinking. she whines loudly, her arms straining with the stretch of being handcuffed, rattling her wrists against the metal loops desperately. they pinch into her skin, but she doesn’t care, her fingers itching with the urge to burrow into your hair, your skin, your clothes, anything.

your restraint seems to dissipate just as fast as hers, for moments later, she feels your arms envelop her as you shakily plug in the key, setting her arms free. they immediately fling up to encircle your body, and she keeps you wedged against her as she continues slurping your blood, one hand on your hip digging in and pushing you back and forth on her lap. you cry out, hugging her close. in a string of dissolved moans and squeaky breaths, you say, “lee, yes, please, like that.”

she grips tightly onto your body, helping you continue to move as she keeps her eyes clenched shut. the taste of your blood staining her mouth has her enthralled, adrenaline pumping through her body relentlessly. 

when her nails dig into the dips of your back, you release a choked out, raspy noise, your hips stilling from their motions, letting her drink and drink and drink. she can’t even imagine how this can get better until you’re suddenly convulsing on her lap, entire body jerking wildly as a loud wail flies from your lips, bouncing off the walls of her empty bedroom. lee’s fingers sink deeper into your skin, short, rounded nails pressing into the strip of skin right above your ass as she continues to eat you up, relishing in your warm blood as you shudder in her arms, which grip onto you with a sudden blast of protectiveness. you clutch on just as tightly, hugging her to you with soft coos, shivers racking your body.

the next string of moments unfold too fast before lee’s alarm suddenly goes off, yanking her from her trance. the blaring noise, which stills her movements in shock, are followed by you tugging on her head, urging her to pull away. her mouth is longing for more, but her stomach feels full, sated, and she knows anymore of your blood would be for greed’s sake only. but, god, she wishes she can remain with more and more of it resurfacing on your tongue, but she doesn’t know if your urgency is due to wanting to remain on track or because you’re in genuine discomfort. and that’s enough to have her pulling away, her teeth slowly slipping out of the warm clamp of your body. you let out a soft noise, jolting on her lap as the points slide out, and lee nearly groans at the loss of being so close to your neck.

which, now that she opens her eyes, adjusting back to the orange light of her room, is coated in smears and dried drops of blood, leaking from the two incisions wedged near your pulse point. lee’s stomach flares at the sight of it, a deep, dark part of her relishing in seeing you physically marked as hers. but, when another drop of blood slips from it, she’s reminded of your own sense of comfort, and murmurs, “does it hurt?”

your voice is quiet, fingers still curled in her hair. “a little.”

she sucks in a sharp sigh, before leaning in and pushing out a wad of spit onto the marks. her tongue darts out, spreading it along the patch of skin, trying to ignore the way you gasp from above. when she pulls back, she whispers, “that should take care of it.”

“yeah.” 

she swallows hard, her tongue itching to lick up your dried blood. but, you’ve seen enough of her depravity today, and her hunger is quelled for now. 

which only leaves her to now face you, the heat of the moment dissipated, the goal accomplished, and motive no longer pushing you two to remain in such an intimate embrace. but, she can’t find it in herself to coax you off her lap. and she needs to know what you’re thinking. if you hate her, think less of her, never want to see her agaon. she knows those may not be logical possibilities, considering how much you seemed to enjoy the feeding (a fact which she still is having a difficult time deciphering), but still. maybe the impassioned moment wearing off will reveal to you the grim reality of who – what – she is.

she pulls back, eyes roving from your neck to your chin to your nose before finally setting upon your eyes, which are wide, pupils dilated. lee feels struck from the lack of anger or despair they hold, your eyebrows relaxed and face absent from creases of tension. 

“that was nice,” you half-laugh, head ducking down in what seems like… embarrassment?

lee’s clears her throat. “nice? really?” 

“yeah, I, um…” you trail off, the hand in her hair straying to pick at her sweater. she takes notice of the nervous tic – it’s something she herself would do. “I don’t know why, but it felt, like, so good after the pain subsided. I, um… I came.”

“came where?”

you give her a pointed look, as though you’re silently urging her to piece it together.

which she does a second later, lips parting as a shock pulses through her, stunning her into moments of silence before she quietly splutters, “you, uh – you had an orgasm?” so, that’s what the shaking was.

you bite your lip. “yeah.” 

lee’s eyes flick to the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip, an impulsive thought bursting through her mind about latching her fangs into it and watching the skin split. she shakes it off. she’s demanded enough of that of you today, and now has an unexpected orgasm to deal with. god, even the sentiment has her feeling secondhand embarrassment. how did you come from this? she skims through the possibilities, the only sensical one being that the bite actually felt good enough to cause, or contribute, to you coming. but, how?

“I don’t get it,” she flatly says. “how did you, um… you know?”

“I don’t know. it just felt so good,” you say, your tone lowering to something husky that has lee nearly shivering.

“it–it did?” she quietly confirms, her voice becoming a quiet murmur to match yours. when she looks up, her breath hitches at how close you are, your eyes entrancing, just as tempting as your neck had been just moments ago. similarly to the hunger, something in her throbs to get closer and inch in for a taste. 

but, she can’t, she shouldn’t. your friendship is already hanging on a thread that grows thinner with every new breach of intimacy you two embark on this evening. you guys haven’t even spoken of what occurred when she fed from you and what it means. another intimate act is not the answer. besides, even if she throws caution to the wind, what then? she can’t ask you to be with her, not when it’d succumb you to a lifetime of temporary living situations and outgrowing her. she can’t–

god, you’re moving closer, your eyes half-lidded, so similar to that one time you got high with her. “it felt really good.” 

you’re so close that your moist breath tickles her nose, hot and heady. your lips, a bit chipped from the cold, glisten as you rove your tongue around them to smooth them over. lee nearly whines at the sight, her center beginning to throb as your warmth wraps around her.

your eyes flicker down to her lips, and she immediately shakes her head, her breaths embarrassingly raspy when she says, “no, we shouldn’t.”

“please,” you plead gently, the tip of your tongue hanging out as you gasp softly. “please, lee.”

her teeth grind together at how you say her voice, a little whine lingering at the edge of it. “I– we can’t, you’d suffer for your entire life.”

“I won’t if it’s with you,” you interject, your voice raised in what sounds like broken desperation. “please, we can talk about this, figure out a way to be together.”

it sounds so good, too good. but, she knows it’d only end in pain, and she can’t do that to you. she won’t. “you would get hurt. I can’t do that to you.”

“I’d rather have you and get hurt than not have you at all,” you whisper, your fingers sliding up to softly grip her face, coaxing her to stare into your eyes, which are glossy with tears and earnestly sharp. “please, lee.”

could that really be good enough? having you for just a few years within the long, long life she’s going to live? is the heartbreak and agony that’d result from those years ending better than the emptiness of never having had a chance with you? lee really doesn’t know – both feel like a unique kind of hell, except one is of loss and the other is of an unlived possibility. but, at least the first would give her memories to warm by her side for the rest of her life, no matter how lonely it may be.

that tender thought is only heightened when you chew on your bottom lip, looking like the encapsulation of innocence and purity as you watch her carefully. “lee?” 

can’t she let herself have this with you? just once, have something based on pure want rather than need and efficiency? the prospect feels so goddamn tempting the more it whirls around in her mind. without realizing, she feels an invisible string, hanging between the two of you, tugging her towards you. her eyes are honed in on your pretty lips, so inviting, so ready for the taking with your small pants and excited little sweeps of your tongue.

“we–we shouldn’t,” she whispers as she leans in, eyes hooded as they remain trained on your mouth. 

“please, please,” you plead under your breath, the two meek words making lee’s head spin with thoughts of how else you’d beg under different contexts. “we can talk about it after. let’s just have this now.”

you’re right – you guys should talk about it. but, maybe before you kiss. doing it after seems risky, for the act will have been done by then, already shoving you two past the threshold dividing friendship from romance. it’s not a good idea, it’s not–

lee lunges forward, capturing your lips in hers. her arms are immediately hooked around your torso, shoving you close to her. she’s greedy, so damn greedy for every inch of you, her hands running along your back, nails tracing mindless shapes over the slip of skin revealed from your shirt riding up. you shiver from the cold of her touch, and she adores how your body moulds with hers. you’re so soft, so real, so good for her. a sentiment that only becomes more apparent as the raw taste of your blood swaps between your mouths as the tip of your tongue desperately curls along her teeth, prodding for the bits and pieces of your dried blood staining them. she doesn’t know why you’re so desperate for it, why you want to taste yourself in her mouth so bad. maybe having a part of yourself in her mouth drives you as insane as it does her. though, the notion only sends lee’s thoughts to a much more shameless place, and she finds herself sinking her fingers harder into the plush of your thigh, forcing you to be wedged tighter against her body. your chests press together as you two lick, suck and devour, the union feeling downright feral.

spit begins to leak from your mouth as your lips hang open to release all the noises pent up in you. lee’s mind feels hazy from knowing she’s causing those noises, and she worms her tongue into your mouth. she’s had your blood, and now, she wants to taste every other part of you possible. she wants to suck your chest, bite your lip and lick off all the slithering arousal from that spot between your legs. she wants you all, completely. 

“I wanna do so much,” she mumbles right before wrapping her lips around your tongue and sucking, more of your spit bursting onto her mouth and down your chin. she releases with you a pop to lap at the skin, starving for more of you. 

“then, do it,” you moan.

“some of it is wrong,” she rasps, her mind flooded with all the shameful desires she’s held in her chest for months. 

you pull back from her, resting your forehead upon hers. “trust me, none of it is.” after a pause where nothing rings through the rooms but your little pants, you whisper, “I want you to do so many things to me. things I’m so embarrassed of. but, wanting it must mean it’s not too bad, right?”

still hung up on your admission of wanting her to do things to you, she takes a few long moments to fully digest your words. she’d hate to ever contribute to making you feel ashamed of the fantasies you have, and she’s sure she’d want them all just as much as you. the realization gives her pause – will you be that for her? someone whom she can share with all of these secretive wants she’s always kept buried within, only allowing it to have rare glimpses against the light of day. 

with the way you’re staring at her, so desirous and trusting in your touches and gazes, she feels that just maybe, you can be that for her. you’ve already seen her at her most primal state of necessity and survival. if you can accept her in her desperate, graceless, thoughtless need, maybe you can accept her in all the desires she’s kept hidden for so long. 

“right,” she breathes, her nose rubbing against yours as she pushes her lips against yours again, dragging her nails down your back as you wrap your hands into her hair. 

maybe for a moment in her great span of life, she can let herself fall into the sanctuary of being with you. maybe, for some time, she can be drained of shame with you. maybe, if she hopes hard enough, she can feel human with you. or, even stranger of a possibility, she can be anything but human with you. she can stop pretending.

it seems like a faraway, impossible dream. but, as you seize at her with unfiltered desire, holding her close as though she’s something pure and good and precious, her chest splits open with a flood of hope. a flood that whispers maybe you’ll hold her tenderly as a creature that, yes, is still stuck between monster and human, but just as deserving of a life. despite the coldness of her skin, the breaths she only takes out of habit, perhaps this kiss is a vow that you’ll keep her alive through something beyond physicality, something deep in her that still sparks tears and laughter and empathy. something like a soul.

she lets you write the promise upon her skin that night, drinking and drinking it up, and letting it wash all over her. and she continues to for many years to come.

[crowcountenance]

My Alagadda Lords Interpretation!

Hello! My name is Victor. I do traditional and digital art and love scp a shit ton. You might know me under my old username Soulcure as half my art is on Google but I am that one guy who made all the Sketchers United scp art which a lot was mc&d because I love them, but I still see some of my Alagadda stuff from years ago like my 5075 art</3 Maybe nobody will know that was me but if you do, no you don't.

I always wanted to post my stuff here so I will now. :3

Me and my partner are currently working, and have been working for the last few years, on building every part of our own headcanon around the SCP multiverse as much we can, so here is some part of it! (my partner has their own scp themed tumblr, they are so cool)

I did these all in school today, just to make doodle style standees out of them for my shelf and to grasp my new revamped designs I created. I really went overboard with their designs in the terms of references to media, classical music pieces and other stuff but I am quite happy with how their concepts look. To name a few references: The Red Lord is partially inspired by The Queen of Hearts interpretation fron Alice Madness Returns, The Yellow Lord is a reference to the Bloodborne Hunter because I love stuff with eldritch and unknown horrors and the White Lord is a reference to Swan Lake. (I drew the Black Lord but it isn't a standee yet so it is not shown.)

If people want to know more how I see them I might make a huge text post about it! (MIGHT)

[zlatik-art]

Flash mob idea. I will attach references for two ballerinas and draw the Sun and Moon in their place. It seems that 1.5 people will take part in this, but that’s okay.

@ohno-the-sun

The black swan AU is quite interesting, although I haven’t seen the film on which the AU is based, while I was drawing the storyboard I had a few questions that might get an answer later (it’s probably better to send them directly to the author, but that’s for later.)

1. Are Sun and Moon the only robot ballerinas? Logically, they should have a troupe. No matter how good and wonderful dancers they are, for most productions, other people are needed. On the one hand, this is a very expensive pleasure, but on the other... Why not? If there is a Sun, then why can’t there be others?

2. Are animatronics subject to violence? Moral or physical is not important. For people, these are just robots, which means they have no feelings and can be hurt. I thought about sexual violence (perhaps this is echoes of my personal trauma), after all, they are beautiful and no one would ask their opinion whether it is possible to touch them and if there are any restrictions. Because they work.. do you often ask permission for kitchen appliances to use them?

3. It is unlikely that their theater focuses on only one production. So there are others? Is the sun worried about them? Or is Swan Lake the height of perfection? Which one can't she achieve? Everything else is good, but is a black swan beyond her strength?

Another idea:

I was watching Swan Lake (ballet) for the storyboard... And an idea came to me. Draw Rothbart (the main villain of the production) together with Moon (the black swan in the story is his daughter)

This is great

I want to draw everyone's attention!!! They are different!

1. They are standing on an empty stage that is not even lit. And logically they should stand at the same distance from the center. But no! The sun is closer to the center. It exists as a separate object. And the Moon is only part of it. so She gets a little lost in the dark.

2. They have different feelings. The sun is tense, her movements are sharp (the ribbons on her hands indicate this) Moon is smooth. She smoothly raised her hand and smoothly moved back (ribbons and cap) Because she is confident in her abilities.

3. The sun is heavier. Her clothes are heavy (her dress alone has at least three layers! Petticoat, skirt and feathers on the skirt)

4. The moon is lighter. Her skirt is shorter and lacks a petticoat.

5. Moon’s pointe shoe ribbons are shorter. Just two crossings and a top tie. On both legs. They are identical. Sun is different.

6. Moon’s fingers do not stick together (and this is important for ballet. This creates the effect of lightness and airiness.) The sun holds them tensely together. They even have their arms in different positions (the ones they extended)

6. Moon’s fingers do not stick together (and this is important for ballet. This creates the effect of lightness and airiness.) The sun holds them tensely together. They even have their arms in different positions (the ones they extended)

I feel like an art critic.

@ohno-the-sun

[seikotakai]

some costumes i'd like to come back to tekken 8

jin's clamp outfit from tekken 6 (while i completely understand why some jin fans hate this outfit...but this outfit looks beautiful and it was made by clamp, the same people who made some of my childhood animes like cardcaptor sakura). i loved that outfit so much i downloaded a mod and put it into tekken 7.

(this one as well because it's showing his sexy ass tits and it's matching xiaoyu's outfit in tekken 5 which i'll get to later).

jin and xiaoyu's iconic school uniforms from tekken 3 and tag 1.

xiao's tekken blood vengeance outfit.

xiaoyu's tekken 5 secret costume matching jin's outfit (it's literally taiko no tatsujin reference...xiao is a damn taiko fan what's not to love about this shit).

tekken 4 xiao player 2 (imo my favorite ling outfit, wanted this one to match jin's tekken 4 hoodie).

alisa's tag 2 extra costume (she looks so pretty and it reminds me of swan lake).

two other costumes i want but cannot find an image for:

-Alisa's blood vengeance outfit

-Jin's Tekken 3 Player 2 Outfit Jacket

[canyouhearthelight]

Machine is Perfect, but Flesh is Free Intermission

This chapter is longer than either of the previous two, and if I am correct, it is possibly longer than both combined. So hopefully that helps make up for the amount of technical things around dance that appear. For anyone who wants full context of what is going on: 1) the MC is dancing a deliberately more difficult variation of the Yuka Fukuda solo of Esmeralda.... which is already difficult enough. Every step happens on a beat, and there is not a lot of music for the piece and NO room for error, because the dancer has to kick a tambourine. Our MC is doing these kicks over their head rather than above it, which I think I have seen one dancer do only for the first portion. You can just search "Yuka Fukuda Esmeralda" to see the real one. 2) "The Fouettes" (fweh-tehs) refers to the Odette solo from Swan Lake. It is notoriously one of the most difficult passages to dance in ballet, and is also referred to as "The Thirty Two Fouettes". Spin spin spin, identically... it's exhausting, and it hurts. But if you have bionic legs and feel no pain when performing, you can imagine how boring it sounds. I swear I'm not disparaging the passage, but our MC experiences none of the things that make it hard. 3) There are two main versions of the fouette (the spin, not the passage), Italian and Russian. It actually takes less time to look up a video than listen to an explanation, and people have BIG opinions about which one is better.

All that said, thanks to @baelpenrose for making it through all these explanations the first time when I was writing it. On with the show!

For several weeks following my interrupted performance, I lived in the rehearsal studio with next to no contact from anyone except Urus and the doctor. Even M. Russo was banished from his place of power, and from the shouting I was barely able to hear through the door, he was incredibly displeased about the situation.  Urus grumbled about having to bring me meals and throughout the newly added watching me while I ate. No more solid foods, only some perfectly nutritious and perfectly flavorless concoction with a texture between porridge and puree.

Two weeks into my seclusion, my surly warden finally slipped, just a bit. “Food like that for every meal, I would dive in front of the next bullet,” he muttered.

I coughed, startling him.  Waving him off, I shook my head. “Bullet?” I gasped, trying to clear my throat.

He handed me a cup of water. “What about a bullet?”

The bowl of nutrients was set on my lap so I could turn my head and scowl at him. “The doctor said the bullet missed someone entirely the night I was brought here, and you just mentioned jumping in front of one now. I’m not deaf, no matter how much everyone likes to pretend I’m some windup doll. What bullet?”  It was the most words I had ever spoken directly to him, and from the look on his face, I had caught him off guard.

“Someone tried to shoot you while you were performing,” he explained slowly. “With a gun.” One hand dropped to his hip where he kept his holstered.

“Me?” I blurted out in shock. “Why? I’m not important, just a toy. Not even a pet.” I pitched my voice up as far as I could. “ ‘Wind up the little ballerina, let them dance’.”

That earned a more familiar sneer. “Poor little pet, to be kept so expensively and lavishly that you don’t even need to walk anywhere for fear of bruising your feet.”

“Yes, my pretty little golden cage.” I lifted the bowl and swallowed the contents as quickly as I could, wincing as I refused to let it come back up. Gasping as I finished, I held it out. “I’ve eaten. Your punishment is done for now.”

He ignored me for several minutes, until my arm was burning and shaking. I refused to beg or acknowledge our standoff until the bowl was removed from my hand.  As soon as I heard the door lock behind him, I let out a deep breath. Inhaling again and bracing myself, I slowly flexed my feet.  Pain spiked up through me, but I grit my teeth and focused on breathing with every movement.  The most recent treatments from Master Arik made it impossible for sweat to bead on my forehead, but my eyes and mouth felt feverish when I stopped for the water that was always within arms reach.

The memory of dancing - leaping, kicking, flying - warred with how quickly I was brought to exhaustion by the pain from something as simple as flexing my ankles and feet.  Since M. Russo was not allowed in the studio while I was being kept here, there were no rehearsals and therefore no need for nerve blocks, leaving me in full pain with every movement of my legs.  After another drink of water, my anger was burning hotter than my body. “Kick,” I commanded my legs. But only so fast, my teacher’s voice echoed in my mind as I strained against my own body to lift one leg, and to resist the urge to drop it.

“Again.” Breathe. My body could do this - had done this. Again and again. Only so fast, only so high, I reminded myself. Limits. When my eyes and mouth were hot again, I stopped for more water and to cool down. Another limit. 

In the ten winters I could remember being here, I had been very aware of my situation, but Urus’s comments today had been the first time I realized that perhaps I was the only one other than Master Arik who was aware. Clearly, Urus thought I was a pampered thing - what if he did not realize what the injections were?

I worked persistently at my own mobility, and it seemed that every small success woke my mind even further.  Where I had surrendered, been complacent to my existence of agony with brief rewards of relief when I behaved, now I was suspicious and curious of everything.  I was increasingly aware of how long it was taking to secure my personal quarters, where the studio had taken only a day or so.  Plots and accusations lurked in every corner of my mind that suddenly had light shining in them - why did the serving people never speak when they attended me before? Why was Urus assigned to me and me alone?  Surely Arik had other trophies - why had I never seen or heard of them?

Instead of keeping time by the things done to me - baths, meals, rehearsals I was led to and from - I began marking time by what I could do. I could slowly kick my legs five hundred times in a row each before needing to stop for water.  I could hold both feet in front of me for fifteen minutes at a time without assistance, ignoring the sharp electric razors spiking through them without a headache.

By the time I was released from my isolation in the studio, I could hold my knees to my chest with only the muscles in my legs and stomach  for an astonishing five minutes.  I had not dared to stand, but was contemplating the attempt when the locks on the entrance slammed open and Master Arik entered, accompanied by Urus and three other guards.  My back was to the door and viewing glasses, but I still dropped my feet quickly to their rests in my chair before even his brisk step could come around to face me.

“It is a good day,” he started without preamble. “Full of good news.  The man who tried to kill you has been executed, and your new quarters are finally ready.”

“Kill me?” I asked stupidly.

He waved my concern away. “Someone sent to hurt me by stealing you, once your value became known.  Thankfully, you were not injured, but measures had to be taken.”

Was I so valuable that someone would kill me to hurt him? I doubted it, but he seemed quite certain, so I nodded along. “And new rooms?”

“And a new insurance policy,” he assured. “To reflect your new value.”

Urus nodded towards my bedding and personal effects before grabbing my chair. Mechanically, I followed the script that was ingrained in me. “And my parents?”

“Compensated to reflect your rising stock,” Arik responded. Where before I had only been concerned that my family was not starving, now I was suspicious that the answer was equally rote and mechanical to my question.

With that, our accustomed exchange had ended, and Master Arik was supervising my removal from the studio space, ignoring me again.  I focused on keeping my features slack and dull, but this time I paid as close attention as possible to what was being said around me.  I learned I was being taken to the second floor, not the third - apparently my quarters had been on the third floor.  The studio, I found out, was on the fourth.  Instead of the sloped corridors, I was to be taken by elevator, which was a luxury I had never been afforded, but was apparently more secure.

Despite my new rooms being further away, the journey was far shorter.  The doors, like the ones on the rehearsal space, were keyed to the genetic pattern Master Arik’s doctors had placed in me.  Only he, Urus, and the doctor could enter without an escort - and myself, obviously, but it was left unsaid that the idea of my leaving under my own power was laughable.  The poor paper dancer could not walk, after all.

Once we entered, Arik turned with his arms extended, a smile on his face. “The walls have been reinforced, the windows filled and shuddered on the exterior with plates. To ensure your safety, obviously.” Leaning over, eyes cold, he flicked the end of my nose, his false grin never budging. “No need for cameras anymore. Any and all items and persons to enter and leave will be checked and accompanied by security.”

No windows. No more birds. No more clouds. A more secure cage than ever.

My face must have betrayed nothing that concerned him, as he stood and clapped his hands once. “Sleep tonight, and tomorrow you will perform.”

I shook my head, confused. “Perform? Not rehearse?”

He clucked his tongue. “You still need to complete your performance as Esmeralda.  It will be in the studio, and only myself and M. Russo will be in attendance, but you will be recorded so that your stock can be valued.  It is not ideal, but it will have to suffice.  Currently, your value is contingent.”

“I understand, Master Arik,” I muttered numbly.  I understood nothing, except that I had no say in the matter.

Striding to the door, he turned to Urus, who followed at his elbow. “Have dinner brought and have them bathed properly. They will be dressed here in the morning and brought to the studio for exhibition.”

—-

After a nearly sleepless night, I was roused from a fitful half-sleep by the lights in my quarters being turned on - no dawn noises, no slivers of sunrise, just a sudden bright pain stabbing through my eyelids.  Groggily, I allowed myself to be washed again, shoved into my costume, makeup slathered on my face.  My nerve blocks were not applied until after I heard the thud of the studio doors securing behind me, M. Russo pointing to my mark with his baton.  Rather than listening for the warm ups of the orchestra, a recorded track was played as it had been in any rehearsal, although this time without M. Russo counting me off.  Nonetheless, I stepped and kicked as intricately as I had intended to when it had been a theater of people watching rather than my teacher, my master, and who knew how many cameras. Each motion as controlled and flawless up close as it would have appeared from a balcony, each sounding of the tambourine measured and equal to the rest.

I finished, face impassive, without any applause.  Instead, Master Arik drummed his fingers on his seat, head tipped to the side. “It is a beautiful and dangerous interpretation,” he frowned.

“It is a traditional one,” M. Russo responded carefully. “A difficult one, to demonstrate their skill.”

“A kick like that could kill a man.”

A gruff laugh followed. “Only by breaking his heart. The feet are too fragile for anything more. They can hardly walk without your permission.”

Arik nodded, but seemed distracted. “I will have the footage released for valuation. Uncut, I think.”

“To cut it is to imply imperfection. Release all of it. There are no flaws to hide.”

“We shall see.” Standing, Arik nodded again. “Russo. The fouettes next, I believe.”  WIth that, he left.

No sooner had the door shut again than I was peeling out of my costume, inspecting my feet. M. Russo did not even pretend to look away - he made no secret that his interest in my body was perfunctory at best. “No blisters,” I reported, disgruntled.

“Mme Boulvais is much more careful than her predecessor,” he agreed. “And the softer shank made a difference.  But shorter in the right shoe for the next performance, I think. You were barely over the box.”

“Those toes are shorter,” I agreed. “And the ankle bends further. But the fouettes?” I pinched my face.

M. Russo seemed to agree, tossing his hands in the air. “You can leap like a cat, you can kick as though you have no bones, but he wants you to twirl in place for heavens only know how long.”

“I can do them Russian,” I suggested, feeling more mischievous than I could recall feeling in my entire life.

He gripped his baton like a sword. “I will cane you from the top of your head to the soles of your feet if you do even a dozen Russian fouettes before my eyes.  And then I will ask Master Arik to gouge them from my head so I may never see such a travesty again.”

I smiled softly, stretching deeply and grabbing my toes. “He said my Esmeralda was dangerous. That the kicks could kill a man.”

From behind, I heard my teacher scoff. “I would agree if you did not need medical magic to merely walk. A kick like that could break a man’s jaw at least, snap his neck at worst. But as you would never kick me like that, and cannot even stand to attempt it when you are elsewhere, it is a vain fear.”

I hummed, hoping he would take it in agreement.  It seemed he had, as by the time I stood again, he had resumed his teaching posture. “Go ahead. Show me your fouette. Ten to the left, then ten to the right.”

Automatically and without music, I started. Traditionally, the passage Master Arik was requesting used identical turns to the right, but we rehearsed with both to err on the side of caution.  Arik was known to add or change something at any time if he felt it was something new.  By the end of the day, both of my calves stung from being struck to correct their height or how soon I did nor did not whip my leg out - M. Russo had not been joking about his insistence on Italian over Russian.  As the weeks progressed, more and more turns were added, along with various surfaces for me to balance on for precision.  A strange tool was brought to ensure that my legs were at exactly ninety degrees, a position I had to hold for as long as ten minutes at a time.

By nights, I was standing under my own trembling power for just as long.

Unlike in the past, rehearsals went on for nearly half a year.  Increasing levels of difficulty were added, in theory to explain the time it was taking.  In reality, I overheard my security discussing the increased measures to make Master Arik’s keep more and more secure, to make the performance hall doubly so.  The idea made me feel melancholic rather than secure, and I avoided analyzing the feeling too hard with my newfound inquisitiveness.  Most importantly, the next performance was intended to be ‘exclusive’ as an excuse to limit any chance at another incident, and all staff were undergoing intensive background screening and medical analysis.  My own medical exams went on the same schedule as before.

After all, I wasn’t staff - I was property.

[child0feden]

33,38,41,43- 🐀

୨୧ i love answering these so so so much! thank you for participating in my little ask game, rat anon <3

do you wear makeup?

nope! unfortunately i have like, seriously sensitive skin that has just never reacted well to any kind of makeup so i just… do not wear it, at all! i am completely bare face all day, every day…

it either makes my skin really dry, overly oily, weirdly patchy or makes me break out in acne and sometimes even rashes! not fun at all and i have just started getting a super clear face the past couple of years so i have not risked that shit and to be honest? i am kind of completely fine with it? at first i was pretty upset at how sensitive my skin was but now i am kind of cool with it, i kind of like never wearing makeup for some reason! fresh air feels good against a bare face, you know?

the only makeup i do use, but even then very rarely, would be mascara…

how long have you been on tumblr?

in general, i have been a user of tumblr for about eight or nine years! though i have had many blogs that have since been deleted, some even terminated because i used to be in some not so great communities and all of that bullshit, you know? things that were coping mechanisms which i eventually realised were doing me more harm than good so i deleted all of my old blogs, had an old lurker blog but now we are hereee! i made this blog just this year and my main blog two years ago, i think…

where would your dream first date take place?

you probably guessed my answer but i would just love to have a first date in a cemetery! specifically this one in my town, well on the outskirts of my town… you would have to drive there as it is super out of the way with no real paths or anything but it is gorgeous, it has a big lake just next to it that swans frequent and sheep in the field beside it! it is incredibly desolate and just beautiful to me… a lot of space to have a cute little picnic with a cd player and stuff!

i find cemeteries to be very beautiful and peaceful places, they relax me and i feel comfortable in them! the complete lack of other people is a huge bonus too… i think a first date in a cemetery would help me see the true character and personality of someone too! to see if we are truly compatible or not, to see if they respect the beauty of the death and the ancient architecture or not, all of that stuff!

name one internet reference that never fails to make you laugh!

this has to count as a reference, i think, but the infamous “ this does not even deserve a captains log introduction because this is dead serious! ” and “ i’m workin’ on it! ” lines from good old chris chan, just amazing lines that i find myself saying from time to time and laughing about, i love the video so much and it always makes me crack up! just so damn good

if not that then it would have to be the also infamous cyraxx “ ed, help me, eddd! eddd! eddd! ed, help! ” and “ call karen right now! ” lines i mean, damn! i think if i am ever in need of desperate help, i might accidentally call for ed or karen because of how badly this is engraved into my head lolol

[cupidscatcafe]

Giving EAH characters Pokèmon teams and my explanation of why I chose them + which I think would be their main

~Chariclo Arganthone Cupid~

Sylveon(Main): It evolves through affection

Clefa: I was going to do Clefairy since it evolves with high friendship but I felt like Cleffa just fit better for some reason

Mew: I think it just fits with her being a god

Decidueye: Its the Arrow Quill Pokémon and it fits with her whole bow & arrow thing

Banette: I wanted something ’scary’ to represent the fact she’s from Monster High, Banette is also a doll possessed by hatred and with enough love/care it will turn back into a toy which I think she could be helping it do 🤔

Silvally(Type: Full): It evolves through high friendship and it breaks free of its mask which I think is just really really cool

~Blondie Lockes~

Klefki: It holds keys! It would make it easier to break into peoples houses

Pokèdex Rotom: I just think she’d have a Rotom and it would, accidentally enter her MirrorPad or something 👍

Purrloin: They like to steal from people and I felt like that kind of matched the whole “breaking in and entering” thing

Teddiursa(Main), Stufful, & Ursaluna: Bear

~Ashlynn Ella~

Umbreon(Main): Umbreon is a night time evolution which is a reference Ashlynn’s whole “12 o’clock” thing (This could be switched out for an Espeon to match the “12 o’clock in the afternoon” thing in the episode “Ashlynn’s Fashion Frolic)

Mimikyu: It disguises itself with a cloak, kinda like the “disguise” she gets for the ball (Mimikyu is also my favourite Pokèmon so I wanted to give it to someone)

Pidove: In the og story Cinderella’s stepsisters have their eyes pecked out by pigeons

Talonflame: I just feel like she’d like Talonflame + another pigeon refrence

Trevenant: In the og story the Fairy godmother is a Hazel Tree next to her moms grave

Noctowl: It’s nocturnal, which is another refrence to the “12 o’clock” thing

~Duchess Swan~

Swanna(Main): Swan. Also for her pet swan Pirouette

Kirlia: It’s based on a ballet dancer

Ducklett: Same reason as Swanna, but its a duck

Galarian Zigzagoon: Kind of the same colour scheme(?)

Diancie: Theres no reason for this, I just couldn’t think of a 6th Pokèmon and my gf recomended it, it was supposed to be a place holder but I seriously couldn’t think of another one 😭

Gyarados: Red Gyarados is found in the Lake of Rage which is supposed to be a reference to the episode Duchess Swan’s Lake

~Lizzie Hearts~

Togedemaru(Main): I was going to give her a Shaymin to represent Shuffle (her hedgehog) but decided against it and Togedemaru was the next best thing

Vespiquen: Bee queen 🤯

Aegislash: It’s a knight which is usually associated with royalty, it being a sword could also be a “off with your head!” reference

Furfrou: The princess in that on XY episode had one, I think (Idk it’s been almost a year since I’ve wated it 😭)

Pyroar: “lions signify courage, strength, and power.” Which I think is perfect for Lizzie, they’re also the “king of the jungle”

Luvdisc: It’s just a heart and I strangely (kinda) cared about type match-ups for Lizzie so I wanted something to cancel out the fire type :3

~Briar Beauty~

Komala: It’s just always asleep 👍

Wurmple: This was just a reference to the Party Wurmple meme

Florges(Main) & Lilligant: I was trying to match the whole rose aesthetic thing

Ferrothorn & Spina: Both of these were supposed to be jokes on her pricking her finger on the spinning wheel but I’m not sure if it makes much sense

~Hopper Croakington II~

Cutiefly: Frogs eat flys so… y’know

Sobble: I think it matches his personality

Squirtle(Main): Hopper just gives me Squirtle vibes

Politoed: Literally the king of frogs

Spewpa & Riolu: Really no reason, I just love them and I think Hopper would too

~Cedar Wood~

Pikipek: It’s a woodpecker (this was funnier in my head)

Rowlet(Main) & Staraptor: Owls and Hawks represent truth and Cedar is cursed to tell the truth 🤯

Nuzleaf: It’s Pinocchio as a Pokèmon 🤔

Rattata: It matches her colour scheme

Shuppet: It’s the puppet pokèmon which is what Cedar is

[macaroni-rascal]

Just caught up on the FD, and dare I say, the best-dressed event of the GP?

Holly - our sexy Aussie mermaid - what a look. Absolutely stunning. The shape of the skirt? Perfection? It moved beautifully. The only thing I'd change is that little ruffle along the back. Jason, though. If this isn't a Shape of Water program, then why in the hell is he dressed like the Amphibian Man? Why the bolero with the awkwardly placed fins? Pretty boy done dirty. He is a Canadian novice champion, a title that famously not even VM have, so he deserves better. If he just had a dramatic shirt with flowing ruffles reminiscent of her skirt, it would've been stunning. Possibly the best program they've ever had, none of that Chaka Khan nonsense.

Hannah and Ye - perfection. Exquisite tailoring, fabulous colors and fabric, really accentuating their best features, like her gorgeous back. Stunning performance, I was completely carried away. Underscored.

I actually like Katerina's dress, it had a sense of drama, the skirt drapes and moves beautifully, maybe just the front could be a bit lower. She has the Bradie problem where she pulls her hair back too tight. The hair piece, if they're already going to use one, should've been lower on the forehead. I'm sure Oksana is delighted at the reference. His costume is barely even there, he needs to be in a lighter shirt, he completely disappears. The confusion here is why a brother and sister duo are doing Swan Lake. Like, what is the story they're telling? Big, dramatic music suits them but the choreo is just not ready for the big leagues.

The Browns again with perfunctory costumes and god-awful music. All I could think about was that moment in Clueless to this song, so I don't know why they'd give a sibling team a tune from a movie where step-siblings get together. It bothered me that the blue on her dress and his shirt didn't match. She's definitely a Gabi fan girl, she was literally doing her facial expressions. Great skating but they need a makeover.

Olivia and guy - oh, brother. This is less Elvis than Elvis impersonator. What is this man doing skating with this queen? He's not looking at her to connect with her, but to try to keep up with whatever she's doing. Even Chris called out the lack of chemistry. Again messy on some elements and at risk of getting them invalidated if the tech panel wasn't fucking asleep. They spent almost the entirety of the program in the middle of the rink, which was really confusing? There's no actual concept to this program, they even said themselves she doesn't have a character and they don't know what story they're telling. Maybe how this huge celebrity moved a 14yo in her house, married her, and then later raped her when she told him he was leaving him? Because that's the story of Elvis, and it's been out there for decades, so why choose this? Otherwise her bodysuit is a slay and just shows what Amber's could've been if just the waist was in the proper place, I just wouldn't have bedazzled the buttocks. His outfit is fine, the jacket is too big, but I don't even care what he wore, I like to pretend he wasn't even there. Find Liv a Partner on her Level 2024! I liked her hair and nose ring, what a star.

Brb with part deux: Czech bugaloo.

I'm just going to post this and part deux, because people deserve to see these reviews! <3

[queenslanddrycleaners]

4 Ways That dry cleaners in Madinat Zayed Can Boost Your Business

Like restaurants, hotels, gyms, hair salons, and many other companies, many dry cleaners in madinat zayed have seen their revenue decline as a result of the coronavirus epidemic. According to one dry cleaner in Lake City, Florida, the pandemic reduced business by 85%. In the United States, some dry cleaners have been forced to close completely, while others have had to substantially cut back on their hours of operation. To keep the doors open, some dry cleaners have even started making face masks.

"We're making every effort to continue being reachable and present.  However, according to Brittany Faircloth, owner of Swans Laundry &dry cleaners in madinat zayed who talked to a TV station, I think the present state of worry has substantially affected business.nIn March 2020, dry cleaners in madinat zayed spoke to the TV station WFXL.Th e worldwide dry cleaners in madinat zayed and laundry market are anticipated to have a 2.1% revenue drop in 2020 compared to 2019 due to the coronavirus pandemic, more especially the pressing need to dress up despite the growth of telecommuting and the decline of in-person gatherings.

In their daily lives, people are just doing less dry cleaning, according to Steve Thompson, owner of Sand Dollar Cleaners in Jacksonville, Florida, who spoke with First Coast News in April 2020.

Dry cleaners can implement procedures to aid them in not just surviving but also thriving in an environment where: Due to the potential danger of exposure to the new coronavirus, some customers might be reluctant to drop off and pick up dry laundry.

Online or through applications, more and more customers are placing orders for products and services.

Home delivery of meals, groceries, prescription medications, and other necessities has become more commonplace among consumers.

Here are six strategies to help your dry cleaning company adjust to what many refer to as the "new normal."

1. Establish a pickup and delivery business of your own.

If you haven't already, you should consider introducing pickup and delivery options right now. According to a 2019 poll by the food distributor U.S. Foods, many Americans are prepared to pay more for food delivery. So it seems sensible to assume that consumers of dry cleaners are willing to do the same in order to have their garments picked up and dropped off.

Your business should provide "contactless" pickup and delivery so that your drivers don't physically interact with consumers in order to adhere to social-distancing regulations.

On your website, in customer emails, and in advertising, make sure to highlight your pickup and delivery services.

2. Purchase software.

Offering pickup and delivery services is made simpler by route planning and optimization software from suppliers like Routific and Fleetio. Software for managing dry cleaners is available from businesses like Fabricare and SPOT.

3. Make your online ordering better.

Your dry cleaning company could gain by having access to online payment card orders through systems like Square and Shopify in addition to routing or management software. The procedure of allowing pickup and delivery services is made simpler as a result.

To sign up for delivery, many dry cleaners need clients to print out a delivery form and bring it in.

 This deters tech-savvy customers from using certain dry cleaners, according to Ryan Harmon, co-founder and CEO of Press, a smartphone app that allows customers to pick up and drop off their dry cleaning and laundry.

4. Become a member of an outside pickup and delivery service.

You don't want to start your own delivery and pickup business. You can choose another option. You may collaborate with a pickup and delivery service like Press, Dry Drop, Rinse, Delivery.com, or Rinse. This enables you to profit from pickup and delivery while outsourcing the mechanics to a different business. According to RearchAndMarkets.com, customers are more ready than ever for simple on-demand dry cleaning and laundry services.

Every single one of us needs to employ a dry cleaning or a washing service. Consumers worry about the cleanliness of their old wardrobes even if they might not be able to buy new clothes during a recession. This is one industry that, in spite of the economic crisis, has done rather well. Additionally, it makes a tonne of money for your business. Not every dry cleaner, though, earns a million dollars. Why? We urgently need an explanation. Their lack of organization is the main factor, which results in management that is both inefficient and chaotic.

Your dry cleaning business may be regarded as a "small business," but that doesn't mean it can't develop into a highly prosperous one. Fortunately, some of the most effective methods for growing your company just require your time, effort, and a well-thought-out plan. so visit our website:https://queenslanddrycleaners.com/

[maisiestyle]

Arya's heavy moon symbolism is woven through her narrative so beautifully. It draws in other connected aspects like the Swan motif that is referenced in her water dancing, duality in her identity when she transforms/wargs into the Night Wolf. Arya's desire to dance on a lake under the moonlight, likening her legs to the wings of a bird and her desire to become a swan, Nymeria howling under the light of the moon with Ghost hearing her song, Arya serves in the HoBW for 3 days of the month when there is no moon she is No One - the rest of the month she lives among the people and she has name, and all the beautiful references to the Moonmaid star constellation:

And when the Thief was in the Moonmaid, that was a propitious time for a man to steal a woman, Ygritte insisted. "Like the night you stole me. The Thief was bright that night." - Jon, ASOS

~*~

The moon was a graceful crescent, and it seemed as though he had never seen so many stars. The King's Crown was at the zenith, and he could see the Stallion rearing, and there the Swan. The Moonmaid, shy as ever, was half-hidden behind a pine tree. How can such a night be beautiful? - Jaime, ASOS

Sansa and Arya + Sun and Moon parallels in Norse Mythology

In Norse mythology, Sol and Mani are the personifications of the Sun and the Moon respectively.

The sun, the sister of the moon, from the south

No knowledge she had where her home should be,

The moon knew not what might was his

The stars knew not where their stations were. 

from Voluspa, the creation epic

The parallels between Sansa and Sol:

Links to the south

The sun [...] from the south

“Sansa would shine in the south, Catelyn thought...” — Catelyn II, AGOT

Loss of identity

No knowledge where her home should be

“A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here.” — Sansa VII, ASOS

The parallel between Arya and Mani:

Insecurity and low self esteem

The moon knew not what might was his

“Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way.”  — Arya I, AGOT

However, both sisters assert their identity and begin to realise their respective strengths as the series progresses.

They also draw strength and are guided by the memory of their parents and their stark identity.

Vafthruthnismol introduces us to Sol and Mani's father, who gave them purpose

Mundilferi is he who begat the moon,

And fathered the flaming sun

The round of heaven each day they run,

To tell the time for men.

Most notably, Sol and Mani are chased by wolves called Skoll and Hati

Skoll is the wolf [that] Follows the glittering god, And [...] Hati, awaits The burning bride of heaven.

from Grimnismal

insp | source of quotes

[liquidstar]

new oc batch ready! 8 more of these guys lol. the whole deal with this set is they’re from the artisan guild- lunar flair! intentionally spelled like “flair” as in “style” or “a flare for ____” rather than “flare”

basically all the members of the guild are different kinds of artists with different niches (and varying degrees of diva-ness). it’s pretty easy to tell who does what based on the everything about them, but if you want more info their bios are still under the cut!

Name: Jupiter

Name Origin: The planet of course

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 52

Guild rank: Guildmaster

Weapon: Lightning rods

Ethos (Power): Gigantomachy. He can make himself (even more) giant

Flaw power is based on: His overly protective nature, especially where the guild is concerned.

Notes: Literally the nicest guy ever until you provoke him though

Name: Erinome (Erin)

Name Origin: A moon of jupiter, the exact meaning of it’s name is murky but it can refer to grace or purity

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 13

Guild rank: 2 star

Weapon: A Book.

Ethos (Power): Poetic Imagery. Illusions cast forth by his her poems that change the appearance of the physical environment

Flaw power is based on: Her escapist indulgence in fantasy

Notes: You know, like, the pen is mightier than the sword and all that.

Name: Pictor

Name Origin: The constellation meaning “painter”

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 23

Guild rank: 3 star

Weapon: Giant paintbrush

Ethos (Power): Ardor. He can create three-dimensional things with his paintbrush. However they are not animate or alive.

Flaw power is based on: His conceited nature in regards to his own work.

Notes: Goes to museums to talk about how he could probably do it better anyway

Name: Oberon

Name Origin: A moon of the planet Uranus, it gets it’s name from the king of the fairies in Renaissance literature. Notably in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night's Dream

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 29

Guild rank: 5 star

Weapon: Rapier

Ethos (Power): Fantasia. An illusion of changing his own appearance.

Flaw power is based on: His theatrical nature, of course

Notes: Why is he ourple?

Name: Syrma

Name Origin: A star in virgo, it’s name refers to the train of a garment (Typically worn by actors in tragedies)

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 25

Guild rank: 4 star

Weapon: Giant needle

Ethos (Power): Binding threads. She can create stitches on any solid objects and bind them to each other. Including people- The stitches are manifested energy and do not hurt.

Flaw power is based on: The dependency she often has on bonds- i.e. threads that bind people.

Notes: She makes and models all her own clothes.

Name: Parumleo 

Name Origin: A star in Pisces, it’s name means “small lion”

Pronouns: They/he

Age: 19

Guild rank: 3 star

Weapon: Microphone bardiche

Ethos (Power): Persuasion. If they can make you laugh you’ll temporarily have to follow his orders. Though it’s too weak to call full-blown mind control, and fairly easy to snap out of.

Flaw power is based on: His desire to be liked by others.

Notes: They’re like a lolcat. They can haz cheezburger.

Name: Leda

Name Origin:  A moon of jupiter, the name means swan.

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 28

Guild rank: 4 star

Weapon: Duel ribbons

Ethos (Power): Poise. Complete and utter weightlessness.

Flaw power is based on: Her carefree and utterly absent-minded nature.

Notes: You guys know swan lake right? Well, there ya go.

Name: Styx

Name Origin: A moon of pluto that gets it’s name from the river of the underworld. Yeah it’s also a rock band.

Pronouns: She/they

Age: 20

Guild rank: 3 star

Weapon: Axe-guitar.

Ethos (Power): Vibrato. Powerful soundwaves cast by her axe-guitar

Flaw power is based on: Her brash and blasé attitude

Notes: Calls everyone “baby” or “babe” because they’re a cool rockstar.

[witchysolfan]

I like your medieval au. Just wondering who the other people are in you au. Like is William Afton a suitor or is he a king that adopted Vanessa after all 3 of his heirs died?

I haven’t really thought that far ahead. I am like gonna make various references to other fairytale stories. I actually was thinking of making him a Rothbart figure (Swan Lake) who perhaps took over the kingdom for his own reasons.

Mind you, this is like supposed to be a one off thing. Maybe a fairytale writhing the Kill the Lights AU.

[woolishlygrim]

So, with the new Madoka Magica thing coming, I watched Rebellion again, and was reminded of how interesting and thematically rich the weird, surreal transformation sequences from that movie are.

So I looked up some people’s analyses of the sequence, and those analyses were, you know, really bad. Luckily, I’m a relaxed person who can let things go and doesn’t feel the burning need to waste a lot of time analysing a one-and-a-half minute sequence from an eight year old movie.

...

...

1) Mami.

Mami is really straightforward. As the transformation sequence starts, she’s doing an ice dance, a kind of dance that strives to create the impression of free movement, grace, and creative expression but which is actually governed by incredibly rigid rules, not unlike how Mami attempts to foster an external presentation of effortless, free-spirited grace, while binding herself to a rigid code of behaviour.

As she moves into her final spin, she folds up one leg, forming the shape of a grief seed, which her magical girl form tears its way out of, breaking her back open as it goes. This is some incredibly literal symbolism: For Mami, who made her wish solely to escape death while the rest of her family died and later threw herself into being a magical girl, her magical girl persona literally tore its way out of her grief, breaking the person she was before.

Her back breaking also ties back to her death in the series, as Bebe crushed her in its jaws.

2) Kyoko.

Kyoko has an excitable, fast-paced dance to pretty straightforwardly represent her excitable, wild personality. As the sequence goes on, she sprouts a multitude of arms, waving about her, in what is almost certainly a reference to Guanyin, the Goddess of Mercy. Apart from referencing Kyoko’s selfless wish to help her father, and her act of mercy-killing Sayaka, Guanyin was typically conflated with the Virgin Mary, with statues of Mary disguised as Guanyin and a cult of 'Maria Kannon’ having formed around her at one point. Giving that her father was apparently a priest excommunicated for heresy, it’s entirely plausible that heresy was the veneration of Maria Kannon.

Next we see a man’s hand reach for Kyoko’s face. This is almost certainly Kyoko’s father’s hand, reaching for her either in affection or in anger after killing the rest of their family. We see Kyoko split into multiple images, referencing her now lost power of duplicating herself, before the scene is torn open by a demonic, red-eyed, terrifying looking Kyoko. This is the one bit of symbolism in this sequence that has me completely stumped. A representation of how Kyoko sees herself, maybe? Or perhaps a representation of how her father saw her.

3) Sayaka.

Winning the prize for ‘least disturbing,’ we’ve got Sayaka, who kicks off her transformation by break-dancing, as coloured silhouettes mimic her movements at a slight time delay. The break-dancing itself is just a reference to her athleticism, but what’s interesting is that some of the silhouettes occasionally flicker to black with spots of oily colour, the pattern of a soul gem just before it becomes a Witch, referencing Sayaka’s fate in the original timeline of becoming the Witch Oktavia.

As the transformation ends, a silhouette of Sayaka as a schoolgirl sprints (with perfect form, again referencing her athleticism) at a silhouette of herself as a magical girl, the two colliding and splattering like water. There’s a general running theme of water in this one, referencing Oktavia again. As the two colours mix, a liquid version of Sayaka as a magical girl emerges, and for a split-second we see her cry into her hands, representing her regret at becoming a magical girl.

This one is almost as simple as Mami’s, all told.

4) Homura.

The most symbolically rich and also probably the most disturbing. As Homura starts, we see her holding her soul gem, which for a split-second flashes to an artistic representation of a scene later in the movie: The forest of lanterns that Homura and Kyoko end up passing through when they’re trying to leave town. 

Homura’s dance is a ballet dance, representing how ... let me check my notes here ... she’s a ballet dancer. Like Sayaka, she has a silhouette following her at a time delay, but unlike Sayaka, her silhouette isn’t actually perfectly mimicking her movements, instead deviating at points. This is probably playing triple duty on the symbolism side: Homura is at this point both magical girl and Witch, both the original Homura and the new universe’s Homura, and is in two minds about what she wants to do. 

As the transformation goes on, the white silhouette gets caught in a film reel, repeating her infinitely, while the purple silhouette is still and singular: The purple silhouette is the new universe’s Homura, while the white silhouette is the original timeline’s, repeating the same period of time over and over again. 

We get another short shot of a future part of the film, this time the rising lanterns that lead up above the city, which will eventually be transformed into the arch and castle where Homura becomes a Witch.

This transitions to a silhouetted, yellow-eyed version of Homura (the ‘lizard-girl’ she figuratively becomes) bursting into patterns as Homura escapes from it, reaching for something, before transitioning to a pair of glowing hands grasping around a soul gem. The colour grading makes the soul gem look purple, making it look like Homura’s, but it’s actually not: Homura’s soul gem is visible on one of the glowing hands. This is actually Madoka’s soul gem that Homura is grasping at.

After a split-second shot of some very sinister witch text, we cut back to Homura, who segues into some more ballet moves before her striking her pose. These actually aren’t just any ballet moves, though: She’s dancing the death of Odette at the end of Swan Lake. At the end of Swan Lake, Odette dies and ascends to heaven, freeing the other swan maidens from the grip of Rothbart. It’s a very close match to someone’s story, but that someone is Madoka, not Homura: Homura’s mimicry of Madoka/Odette casts her in the role of Odile, the Black Swan (whose costume Homura wears as part of her devil attire later on in the movie), who imitates Odette and in doing so steals her purpose from her. This is some really heavy foreshadowing for the end of the movie.

5) Madoka.

Madoka’s dance is styled after the pop dances of idols, figuratively representing her as Homura’s ‘idol,’ (and potentially tying in to ideas of the artificiality of Jpop idols: This both is and isn’t Madoka, after all, it’s a mask that the real Madoka is wearing). 

After the dance, the transformation cuts to the same film reel Homura was stuck in, but this time with an endless line of paper dolls of Madoka. This is pulling double duty for symbolism here: The dolls are both the many iterations of Madoka that Homura has seen in her time loops, and the infinite iterations of Madoka that exist in the moment of every magical girl becoming a Witch -- we actually see an almost identical scene elsewhere, in Ultimate Madoka’s transformation in Magia Record, with the key difference being those Madokas are real, whereas these ones are a chain of paper dolls, hinting at Homura’s view of those Madokas as being ‘not fully real.’ The Madoka she knew is gone, and Ultimate Madoka both is Madoka and is just a pale imitation.

We cut from there to grainy, close-up images of Madoka. The angle of these suggest that we’re seeing through someone’s eyes, and we are: These are Homura’s memories of the ‘real’ Madoka. As we watch, a glowing hand breaks through, shattering the images like a mirror. A lot of people have assumed this is Madoka’s hand, but it’s not: We’ve already seen this exact glowing hand, in Homura’s transformation, because it’s Homura’s hand, reaching for Madoka. As if to confirm this, behind the hand we see buzzing stripes of colours for just a moment: The same ever-shifting rainbow shades as Devil Homura’s eyes briefly turn.

Madoka is revealed, peering through her hands in a way that mimics the floating eyes of Kyubey outside the isolation field they’re all trapped in. Like Kyubey, Madoka is a godlike being who exists beyond the world that Homura has created here.

Whew. Okay, that’s all five. We get Bebe’s transformation later, and the symbolism there is that she likes cake and shit.

[writing-in-april]

The Five Stages of Grief

Stage five: Acceptance (5/5)

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Spencer’s POV)

Thanks to @zhuzhubii who helped me so much with this series and made this gif for me 🥰

Summary: Spencer going through each of the stages of grief after the death of the reader. Stage five is acceptance.

A/N: Can’t believe my first series on here is done!!! I’m not gonna lie you guys this chapter is super emotional for me- I no joke cried the whole time while writing it and while rereading to edit. I basically have been going through the same thing recently with my Nana. This chapter is very close to my heart and is definitely the most personal chapter for me. The whole series is actually heavily inspired by season 3 episode 19 -one of my favorite episodes of criminal minds- and I also used elements from season 3 episode 15. This also kinda helps explain a lot of my writing choices throughout the whole series if you’re curious. I did my first real attempt at foreshadowing in this series, I hope you all enjoy it! Thank you for all the love and support on this series- with a special thanks to @spencerreidsmiles and @andiebeaword -you all have been so lovely and amazing.

Warnings (All warnings for the whole series are on series Masterlist): Sad Spencer, References to past drug use, References to past suicidal behaviors, Small panic attack, Hopeful Spencer, Unreliable narrator (much less so in this chapter)

Main Masterlist | The 5 Stages Masterlist Word Count: 3.5k (longest chapter)

It’s been a year; One full year since they had died in my arms. One full year since they had been shot so cruelly by a heartless unsub in an alley. One full year since I had been graced with their presence and the sound of their voice.

The elements of my emotions were extremely complex according to my therapist, and surprisingly I found myself starting to feel the benefits with them more every time I went to an individual session or a group session. It was hard for me to realize that I would have to learn to accept my situation.

It was hard to learn how to understand my own emotions when I had been so willing to shut them out, to try and convince myself that they didn’t exist.

I had begun to learn that I carried around the water that felt like I could drown in, the fire that burned so hot that anyone near it would get burned, the earth that I had wished would bury me with the pebbles I had chosen to cope with, and even the polluted air of my sadness around with me everyday. But, now I somewhat accepted the fact that they would always be with me, or at least I was trying to.

I had to learn to accept.

Even if it hurt I had to learn to at least try.

The next goal I had been given by the therapist was the most daunting of my tasks yet in my opinion. Trying to convince myself to open the boxes in the corner of the bedroom I had once shared with Y/N was harder than trying to get clean. The thought that had propelled me forward into getting clean was that I felt as though I would be disrespecting Y/N by not staying clean. They had been the reason all those years ago that I had spilled the clear liquid down the toilet and I needed to do it again, if only for them.

The boxes were something that were easier to ignore. I could ignore them by turning my back to the stack of boxes, choosing instead to stare at the painted walls of my apartment instead. There was no reason for me to stop ignoring the boxes, no one was trying to pressure me to open them besides my therapist. Everyone else in my life had no expectations for me to open them at any time, if ever, including Y/N’s family.

But, it had begun to feel like maybe I could try to attempt to open the boxes. I wasn’t sure what had finally prompted my brain into thinking that perhaps it would be a good thing to stop ignoring it. I stopped trying to understand why my mind works the way it does long ago, I had poured enough time into my life thinking about that.

I had felt this overwhelming urge to be able to look back at things that once belonged to them with some semblance of peace. I wanted to enjoy the memories we had together once more. I was tired of letting the memories get soiled by the unsub, I deserved to still think back on the one that I loved with a smile. I deserved to be able to preserve their memories with happiness and not let them sour with sadness. I wouldn’t let the unsub be able to kill something else while he was behind bars, my memories.

I was ready.

I was ready to open those boxes.

I was ready to at least try.

I was ready to try and look back at the memories.

I wasn’t going to let their memory die too.

My first attempt to open the boxes in the corner of my bedroom consisted of me staring for two hours at the stacks. I knew that I at least wanted to try to attempt to open a box, even if it was the smallest of the bunch.

That day I had gotten the lid of one of the boxes open. That was as much as I could handle emotionally in that moment. There was a small part of myself that wanted to push myself to look inside the box, but I couldn’t do it that night. That night I laid down on the bed, again facing the wall, unwilling to look at the boxes. I knew if I did I’d feel as if I had failed and I had to keep trying to convince myself that small progress was still progress.

I tried again despite the swirling anxiety in the hole in my chest.

I was still willing because I still wanted to have my memories unsullied by sadness.

I still knew that I deserved that despite my volatile elemental emotions threatening to push me into another toxic loop.

The next time I tried to look in the box I had previously opened just a little I immediately got choked, recognizing the contents sat at the top surrounded by other smaller insignificant items. I only managed to grab one of their old tchotchkes that used to sit on their desk in the bullpen. It was insignificant enough of an item that it didn��t make me fall into an endless loop of my emotions. I clutched it all night while I tried to sleep, though I still faced away from the boxes.

I hadn’t given up yet I still wanted to try, if only for them.

I would still try for them, even if I didn’t succeed, I still felt better for trying.

It had taken me awhile to muster up the courage to look at the box again, even though I still wanted to try I was scared that the contents would be too much for my fragile psyche. What I had gotten a glimpse of at the top of the box was something that used to be important for Y/N.

The next time I tried to look I successfully managed to pick up the item that had triggered the painful memory in my mind. It was ironically, it was another box.

The box wasn’t something that was explicitly tied to memories that we shared together. I knew it to be a music box from their childhood, given to them by someone that had meant so much to them. Out of curiosity I cranked the knob on the side and slowly opened the lid, wondering if I could handle the sounds of a song that I had often heard every time they had opened it to listen to the twinkle of the box they cherished.

As soon as the beginning notes of Swan Lake floated into the air I slammed to top shut, unwilling to open up the box of my emotions all the way just yet. I knew I couldn’t get rid of it, it was too important of an artifact in Y/N’s life. Though I knew that this wasn’t something I could keep to myself, this belonged to Y/N’s family. I clutched the box for a second in my arms when I came to the realization that the trinket should be with someone else as if it would be cruelly ripped from my arms right then and there. I felt a little fire being stoked in my belly at the thought of people taking it from me, even though there was no one there in my lonely apartment with me.

I started a breathing exercise that my therapist had told me to use when I felt like this. No matter how much it pained me to admit it, it did help immensely in snuffing out the emotions when I could feel them begin to spiral out of control.

I couldn’t let myself fall into an endless loop of volatile emotions again. I had worked hard to get clean after I had started to write my amends. It had been a hard uphill battle even after I had written down my amends, my grief hadn’t magically gone away that day. Getting clean had been much harder without my rock and the person who had helped me get clean the first time around. I wouldn’t disrespect their memory by going back to dilaudid again.

Once the initial fear began to fade and my breathing had grown steady I forced myself to loosen my grip on the music box. I then carefully set it down in a place that would be suitable enough for a stack of things I’d pass off to other people that had been important to them. I hoped I’d soon be ready to make a donation pile despite that I despised the mere thought of giving something away that belonged to them to a mere stranger.

It was already too much for today, I could only bear looking at the one item. I didn't know how I’d be able to handle it if the box was filled with more trinkets that were important to them. I did however find myself thinking when I laid down on my bed for the night after a hot shower to relax my mind. I found my mind thinking about the trinkets they’d had an affinity for collecting. It still brought tears to my eyes to think about giving away their stuff, even if it was to people who also mattered in their life. But, I found myself thinking about their old cute little trinkets without as much pain, though it was definitely still there.

Maybe tomorrow when I try, I’d do better.

The small box that I had begun to unpack over a series of days didn’t hold anything else seemingly important to Y/N’s life. Besides the music box I had found prior, the small box was only filled with unimportant trinkets that thankfully didn’t spark much meaning in my mind. It was obvious that when the team had initially helped me to put their stuff away until I was ready that things had been put away in a slight haste. They must’ve done it so quickly as a way to try and help me. The animosity that I had held towards my team for the last year because of Y/N’s death had been slowly melting away over time. I still wasn’t as friendly as I had been before, but I knew my frigid nature after the event hadn’t been justified. I knew now that they had only my best interests at heart, even if they didn’t always pinpoint what they were correctly. I had even begun to regain some of my desk duties once I had gotten clean. It had felt good to feel somewhat normal even though the sight of their desk directly across from mine and their still empty round table chair still made my heart pang with grief.

I had even begun texting them more frequently again, though I was still aversive to text, so I guess it still wasn’t that often. Some things really do never change despite the fact that my life had turned on its head in the past year. I had even begun to write letters to my mom again.

I knew I was lucky to still have people by my side, even if it wasn’t the one I knew deep down I still wanted with me.

I thought I could have at least done the box without crying anymore.

That was until I found something at the bottom of the box that made the dam holding my memories back in my mind break to flood my mind. The book would probably seem inconsequential compared to the rest of the items that I knew sat in the other boxes. Most people would assume after just looking at the surface level what items of Y/N’s meant most to me, the ones I wanted to keep. The black paper back was well worn around the edges, almost like if I read it too frequently and I wasn’t too careful that the spine would break. I ran my fingers up and down the battered book as I began to willingly reminisce. To other people the book would’ve looked beaten already beyond repair, maybe as if it had not been loved enough, battered perhaps because of neglect.

But, just like me I knew that Y/N had loved the book more than most people would be willing to.

I knew that I wanted to keep this book, no matter how painful I knew their contents would be for me. I hoped that I’d be able to read it so much that I’d be afraid for the binding of the book, just to be able to feel close to them again. Though I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready to dig up this particular memory, it might still be too painful for me.

I remember they had bought this book for us after I had connected with a grieving father on a case. He had specifically quoted a poem to me that stuck with me for weeks after. Once I had told them of the excerpt quoted to me they had immediately grabbed a copy of where it had originated from, a long Wordsworth poem. The book “Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood” became their favorite quickly, in fact it used to take residence in the top drawer of their nightstand. They had often loved to read me their favorite excerpts at night just before bed when my eyes couldn’t stand to focus on the pages anymore.

When I opened the well worn book it flipped open to where they had set their bookmark last, I recognized the excerpt immediately. My breath got caught up in my throat when the words danced around in my vision. I wasn’t sure if I could face this specific excerpt quite yet, or even be able to read any part of the poem. The book held so many memories of them. This specific poem held so much meaning to the both of us.

However, there was something in me that wanted to try. I wanted to be able to read the poem again and remember the memories we shared fondly. I wanted to be able to enjoy my memories with them. I had come to realize over the past year that their memory deserved to be nurtured with fondness not overwhelmed with sadness.

So, I decided to try.

The memory’s attached to the excerpt immediately began flooding back even as soon as I read the beginning words. The bookmark had landed on the page that had been quoted to me by the grieving father, the words holding even more meaning in my life now than ever before.

“What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my-“

The tears in my eyes blurred my vision, so much so that I had to stop reading for a moment to wipe my eyes. I didn’t know if I wanted to continue, just those first few lines were already weighing heavily on my mind. I was already focusing on the radiance that had left my life forever. A radiance that was once so bright, but was now snuffed out, forever taken from my sight. My sorrow was creeping in with small little waves in my mind, I just had to hope that it wouldn't drown me. I didn’t want to get stuck on an endless loop of emotions again, I had just gotten fully clean a little while ago.

Even though I was feeling intensely emotional over just the first few words I wanted to keep trying. I wanted to read this poem and smile. I wanted to be able to look back at our memories with love, to take back what had been polluted by the acts of a heinous man. Once I had somewhat collected myself and my thoughts I began to read again from the beginning of the excerpt-

“What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower,”

My entire being could not help but ache as I read the words, still aching for the presence of the one who had been forever taken from my sight. When I reached that part that I remembered asking the grieving man about all those years ago, the words held an even deeper meaning to me now than I ever thought possible. There was nothing I could do to bring back the hour where I was still in my lover’s embrace. I wanted to be back in the moments of splendour in the grass and glory in the flower, I knew that soon I’d have to fully accept that it wasn’t possible.

Again I had to wipe tears from my eyes before continuing to read the stanza. This time a few tears dribbling down onto the pages, marking them with my sadness forever no matter if it dried into the parchment or not. I continued to read the page despite the saltwater that continued to drip down my face,

“We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind”

I felt a small watery smile creep onto my face, it had been so long since I had remembered to smile with sincerity. I was thinking about some of the times they had read this to me as I tried to drift off into a most likely restless sleep. Though I had always slept better when they read to me. At the time the words hadn’t meant as much to me as they did now, I now had a permanent connection to the feeling of grief that would never be erased. For the first time in a long time thinking about them didn’t hurt as much for a moment, I actually smiled, even though it was rather watery. No matter how small or sad the smile was, I was still smiling. And, I knew in that moment that Y/N would’ve been proud of me.

I pondered on the stanza’s meaning in a deeper way than I had done before. The things stated in the stanza about how I would gain strength from this situation made me contemplate what Y/N would’ve wanted me to do after their death. They wouldn’t want me to give up as I had done before, they had always wanted the best for me. They would want me to gain strength from the situation.

They would want me to grow from the pain that sat in my chest.

They would want me to move on, to accept.

I didn’t know if I’d ever find someone else that I’d ever love as much as I loved them. I didn’t really ever want to, I had found my true love already. Maybe one day I’d find someone to fall in love with again and if I did I knew they would be happy that I was able to move on with someone else. Even if I ever did move on with someone else there’d always be a part of my heart that belonged to Y/N. For now I was ready to move on in a different way. I was ready to live my life without them, by myself.

The trauma of losing them would always weigh heavily on my soul, I’d carry that with me until I rejoined them in the earth. But, I was now ready to keep living, if only for them. I felt less guilty now since I had grown to realize that they’d want me to try and live the rest of my life as fully as I could. They’d want me to try and find happiness. I didn’t know if I would ever truly find it again, whether it was on my own or with someone else.

They may have been forever taken from my sight, but I found comfort in the fact that the radiance they brought into my life would always reside in me. Instead of letting the deep hole in my chest gape until the hour of my death, I’d let it fill with the radiance of their memory.

I was ready to try.

I was ready to try even if I knew the water that felt like I could drown in, the fire that burned so hot that anyone near it would get burned, the earth that I had wished would bury me with the pebbles I had chosen to cope with, and even the polluted air of my sadness around with me everyday would sometimes take ahold of me again no matter how hard I tried.

I’d always carry those emotions with me, but I knew I was ready.

“Nothing can bring back the hour of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.”

I knew I was ready because their memory would always be with me to give me strength and to guide me. They’d always be there to help me try to live the rest of my life peacefully.

When I slept that night I faced the boxes while clutching the book to my chest.

Even though it still would always hurt on some level, I was ready to live in a reality where I could accept.

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

5 stages of grief:

@joonie-centric @tatesimper @half-blood-dork @mcntsee @illuxions-x @rainsong01 @nomajdetective @loveheathens @day-n-night-dreamer @reidbuck

[kokoronbain]

FINALLY THE SPECIAL DAY IS HERE!!!

Not only the Halloween but also...

The Realase Date of Luigi's Mansion 3!!! 🥳🎊

And for celebrating this day, I found good costumes for some of my dear LM3 OCs

Here in first Paloma

As Odile from Swan Lake!!

I wanted her with black wings but also she could keep her dancer role so I directly thought at the black swan ~

The ballet pose where I based on was really hard to draw, specially for the face but I did my best ;u;

And in second Jemmes Star

As a player from Among Us!

Lol I am really happy for having this idea 😂😂😂 I thought about the astronaut since it's related to space and then I remembered this famous game.

Personally, I won't play it so I am not really interested by this game and same for Jem: Whatever he is imposter or crewmate, he wouldn't say no to be ejected into space-

Now, let's see what is happening into some Alternate Universes with our Winged Ghosts for Halloween

Fell!Paloma

As Morticia from The Addams Family

I can't say why tbh?? 😳😳😳 I just realised at last moment that would fit her so much. I was based on the Morticia costume of Anjelica Huston! Well, what a perfect name which corresponds to our Ángel ~

Horror!Paloma

As Betty Boop

Another thing I just realised at last moment: Betty Boop is one of characters which unconsciously influenced me a lot in drawing and even some people said my art reminds them this character

But ngl, I thought about Kyung in this outfit so I asked to @thegravecartel if it's okay to pick up her idea and she was totally okay so thanks!!! x3

Logically it could be perfect to O!Paloma but it's already great for the horror one for the innocent-like, cute and pin-up side!! 😭😭

Ah! And before I forget, the flower you see on her is called "Betty Boop Rosa". Yep! No joke it's called like this and that helped me a lot for the cosplay hehe 😆

Mafia!Paloma

As a Mummy

Yeah, not really a reference to someone: It's just a mummy. She wouldn't take seriously the party but would try to have a costume where she could use her powers easily to protect Miss Gravely. So yeah she won't let her guard down at Halloween 😌

And finally RoleSwap!Paloma

As Mario (ft. Cappy!)

And again another thing I thought at last moment: I just wanted a silly excuse to put a gRrRRRrreat mustache on someone 😂😂😂 It's simple! But it's also a good occasion to celebrate the 3rd anniversary of Super Mario Odyssey with Cappy, one of greatest mario games which is important to my heart 🥺🥺🥺

Aaaaaaand that's all!!

I am really happy to find some good disguisements for my characters from this great game! 🥺

So happy first anniversary LM3 and specially Happy Halloween everyone!!! 🎃👻🧡💜