#and I did have a vivid hallucination today. so. again nothing definitive but it will be truly hysterical if her music ends up being like

[scalpelsister]

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[lord-explosion-baku]

Opia Night 2

Vampire!Shinsou x reader

Warnings: alcohol mentions, mentions of blood, dumb mc, campy vampire bullshit, swearing

A/N: ahhhhh. okay. so. this was a tough write. I think I got stuck because i started taking myself too seriously and then i just started throwing words out left and right. this is very back and forth, no-goal-reached, bullshit. I mean, getting from point A to point B is r o u g h, bro. Im SO SORRY. I was trying to make this natural and it just AINT. she’s messy today and it’s fine. Gotta just post what we can when we can lmfao. SOO! I’m aware that this chapter isn’t good, but I do hope that you find it entertaining regardless! I promise Night 3 will be better!

(PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION)

Night One

Night Two

You woke up to your phone buzzing next to your head on your pillow. Once, twice, and the third double-vibration made you realize that you were not going to be going back to sleep any time soon. Blinking at your window, you groaned at the flecks of dust that were lit up by the golden remnants of twilight. You’d slept most of your Friday away after slaving away on your school work Monday through Thursday. You tried telling yourself that you deserved the rest, but sleeping through sunlight has become habitual to you when you had nothing else going on. When you woke up from your coma, you would usually sleep some more. Usually.

The phone on your bed was alight with three unread messages, all saying something different, but with the same invitation handed out:

Kirishima(7:02): hey :)

Sero(7:07): you busy?

Kaminari(7:15): babe! partaaay tonite!!!! come over!

Again, you groaned.

The last night you’d spent over at their house was a complete disaster. You totally embarrassed yourself by screaming out of nowhere. Or so it seemed to have come out of nowhere to everyone else who heard you; what you thought you had witnessed went completely unnoticed to everyone at the last party. But to you, it was so vivid.

Purple-haired-couch-kid. Fangs. Blood.

You completely freaked and locked yourself in the bathroom. It took both Kirishima and Sero to coax you out after you battled the idea of calling the cops to their house. When you came out, there was a swarm of kids eyeing you like you were crazy. You asked to see Kodai. She appeared. She was unharmed: no blood, no marks, no recollection of any handsome boy who took a bite out of her wrist. Kamianri’s garage-sale couch had been occupied by no extremely handsome man, and there were no purple-haired people to be seen at the party afterwards.

It wasn’t something you could have imagined unless your drink had been spiked, but you thought you were pretty careful when it came to open containers! And besides, who’d want to spike your drink with hallucinogens. Getting you high could have been a prank or someone thinking they were doing the rest of the party-goers a favor, but to what you could tell, nobody else was seeing shit. So maybe you were crazy. Maybe there was no alluring voice speaking to you in your head, and your psyche had suddenly broken out of the damn blue. In the psychology class you took freshman year, you learned a lot about different mental illnesses that cause hallucinations and paranoia. Maybe you had to get yourself checked out.

Your phone buzzed again.

Kaminari: Kiri is gonna be real bummed if you don’t come :”(

Well, that was on him. You couldn’t really imagine why you would receive such a welcome invitation to another one of their parties after the big fuss you made. After you realized Kodai wasn’t in trouble, you stormed home; you lived close enough, so it was fine to leave your car there. You didn’t speak to anyone about what happened afterwards, so you were sure you’d be snubbed by your friends for at least a little bit. You figured that… if they wanted something else from you, maybe the rule of party fouls would be ignored.

You sighed, knowing that even though Kirishima definitely had a crush on you, he was still your friend and a great guy. You couldn’t think bitterly of him just because he might’ve wanted to kiss you on several occasions when you were just hanging out. You did sleep with him once, back in the day, but you both agreed to just be friends afterward. You were… kinda wild back then and didn’t like the idea of having a boyfriend. Kirishima tried to be understanding, but every now and then, you’d see him look at you with those sad, puppy-dog eyes.

There was a bleep! and you saw that you got a Snapchat notification from Sero. You pursed your lips and opened it to see a video of Kaminari singing your name, pushing Kirishima’s shoulder, and a chorus of several people making gross kissing noises at the two of them. You rolled your eyes and were about to close the video, but something—no, someone—in the background caught your eye.

You replayed the snap. There was singing, gross kissing noises, and him—right at the end of the video. He was only there for the last two seconds of the video, but those mesmerizing indigo eyes leering at the phone camera seemed to grab you by the throat.

You didn’t fucking imagine him. You didn’t fucking imagine him.

Sliding the screen to show the front-facing camera, you grimaced at your face. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and snapped a quick photo with the tag, ‘who is all there rn?’

Kaminari’s reply came instantly. It was another video of people hooting in the kitchen taking shots. Sero was sniffing at a rough-looking pineapple and Kaminari was yelling.

“Who is all here right now?!” Kaminari called and cheers came as a response. Kaminari turned the camera to face his grinning self. Kirishima was in the background checking his hair in the mirror. When he saw that the camera was in him, he flexed his arm, the dork. Then, Kamimari threw his arm around somebody, and pulled him into frame. You actually gasped.

“Why, the whole word is here, babe! Come overrrr!” Kaminari sang at you, but you weren’t paying any attention to him. Purple-haired-couch-kid was side-eyeing your drunken friend, but when he looked into the camera, he appeared to be amused. He wasn’t as dressed up as he was two weeks ago; he just had on a plane black T-shirt with the same ropey necklaces. The camera didn’t do his likeness any justice. The shadows under his eyes seemed to be much darker, and his skin was straight-up pale. Still, his gorgeous lavender eyes had you captivated. He was all you could see.

Purple-haired-guy’s ivory arm wrapped around Kaminari’s shoulder. He grinned, the whites of his teeth gleaming dangerously at the camera, squeezed Kaminari against him, and the video ended. You were too enamored to even thinking of taking a screenshot and you couldn’t replay the snap.

You cursed and covered your eyes with your pillow. You really were planning on sleeping the rest of the night away—maybe put on some cheesy soaps you could snicker at before zonking out. But now, it seemed, you didn’t have any choice but to go to the party. You had to see him.

A shower and a quick trip to the liquor store later and you were showing up to your friends’ rented domain with a six pack in hand. You entered without knocking. They never had the door locked; it was a constant open-invitation to ‘Denki’s Dank Crib’ as Kaminari wished people would call it.

You were immediately slapped in the face with human musk and you were glad to be wearing something more light: a white, chiffon top over your sunflower skirt with yellow, scrappy heels. It wasn’t everyday that you wanted to dress nicely, but as ridiculous as the concept was, if you did see the purple-haired-couch-kid… you wanted to look nice.

“Hey, you! Glad you could make it!” Strong arms pulled you into Kirishima’s hard chest. He smelled like sweat and old spice. He held you for two seconds too long, going so far as to rest his nose on the top of your head, before you pulled away, offering him a friendly smile. “Your conditioner smells nice!”

“Hah… thanks.” You grimaced.

“Oh, I’m sorry! That was really creepy! I’m sorry!” A slow blush bloomed on Kirishima’s cheeks. “I wasn’t trying to be weird. I might’ve had a few drinks already and I just… uh…”

Lending him a saving grace, you lifted the six pack up. “Care for another?”

“D’aww, you didn’t have to grab beer!” Kirishima grabbed the six pack from you. “I do love this stuff though! Thank you!”

“I couldn’t come here empty handed. It’s the least that I can do after what happened last time.” You started walking towards the kitchen, keeping an eye out for the purple guy or Kaminari.

“What happened last time?”

“You know,” you said while Kirishima cracked open a bottle, “when I had a freak out?”

“Freak out?” He offered you the bottle, but you shook your head. “What do you mean?”

You scanned the kitchen and saw only a few kids you didn’t know and Sero messing around with some frothy, yellow liquid in a beat-up blender. Looking to your right, you saw that there was nobody occupying Kaminari’s old loveseat. It wasn’t like you were expecting to see him there with what—Kaminari on his lap?—but it didn’t hurt to check.

“Like when I screamed and locked myself in the bathroom,” you said. “Then I left without saying goodbye.”

Kirishima’s brows crinkled. “I don’t remember you screaming or anything like that. You did leave a little suddenly, and I was bummed for like a minute, but that’s yesterday’s news. You’re here tonight!”

“Kiri, I was standing right next to you when I threw a fit. You don’t remember? You got me out of the bathroom.”

Kirishima shook his head. “Are you sure that was me?”

You were positive. You were definitely leaning on him, talking about how you didn’t need any boys, and Kirishima was warm like he always was when you touched him. You turned to look back at the couch and then you saw that purple guy bite Yui Kodai! Everyone heard you!

“You’re here!”

Sero zoomed towards you with two large cups of something in-hand. He gave you a bright smile and offered you one of the cups. “As soon as I heard you were heading over, I started making these! Piña coladas!”

“Oh…” you took the drink and gazed into the glass. It was yellow and mushy. Thinking back on your original theory—being drugged—you gave him a tight, closed-mouth grin. “What’s in it?”

“Uhh… Pineapple, coconut rum, and ice?” Seeing the unsure look on your face, Sero hastily added, “the pineapple was close to expiring, but I tasted it, and it’s still fine! Promise.”

“Did you even blend it right?” Kirishima asked, peering into your cup. “It looks like it’s breathing.”

“It’s not my fault our blender is janky!” Sero shot back. “I’m not the one who’s always making weird, keto-friendly protein shakes with, like, kale and shit added in every morning like some sort of psychopath.”

“It’s not crazy to be looking after my body. In fact, you could learn something from me!” Kirishima poked Sero in the ribs. “Skinny.”

“I’m not skinny,” Sero argued, flinching away. He lifted up his shirt to reveal his tight, well-kept abdomen. “I’m lean.” Sero smirked when he caught you staring.

“Alright, well, our girl only deserves the best service, and this ain’t it, chief.” Kirishima reaches to take the atrocity out of your hand, but seeing Sero’s dejected face, you pulled away.

“This is fine,” you promised warily. Beside yourself, you took a sip of Sero’s sloshy creation. You got a big chunk of pineapple in your mouth and chewed the rum out. The parts that weren’t chunks were all watery, like you were drinking straight rum. You forced yourself to smile. “It… tastes good at least.”

Sero was ecstatic. “Lovin’ your look, by the way. Yellow heels look good on you.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes and placed a hand on your back. “C’mon, you don’t have to be nice to him. Lemme make you something good in the kitchen.”

“Oh, wait, Sero. I wanted to apologize to you too!”

Sero raised a brow. “Apologize?”

“Yeah...” You turned your head from Sero to Kirishima, hoping for any sign of recognition. “For freaking out. Screaming. Locking myself in the bathroom. All those good things.”

“Oh,” Sero said. “Yeah, well, you’re forgiven.”

“So you remember!” You beamed.

Sero’s hand went to the back of his neck. “To be honest, I don’t remember a lot about the last party. I think Denki broke a table—“

“You helped him break the table,” Kirishima interjected.

“—aaand someone stole my good bong? That’s it. I’m sorry you had a bad time, though. Hopefully you’ll have more fun tonight! Kaminari bought a karaoke set. It’s got all the shitty songs they’re playing on the radio right now.”

“Where is Denki,” you asked, looking around. Damn it, if nobody remembered you screaming, at least you could count on Kaminari possibly getting the name of the kid who he had his arms around in that video he sent you.

“Off somewhere being a dumbass.” Sero waved his hand absently at the crowd of kids in the living room. “You wanna smoke? I just got a new bong and it hits pretty smoothly. Or maybe you wanna try karaoke? Though you would probably wanna get a couple drinks in before that, huh?”

“Ah, maybe later. I just gotta find Denki.”

“Why?” Kirishima asked suspiciously.

“I just gotta ask him something…” you pulled out your phone and dialed his number. It rang three times before getting to his raunchy voicemail. You scoffed.

“He could be up in his room,” Kirishima suggested.

“With a chick?” Asked Sero, amused. You made a face and Sero quickly corrected himself, saying, “I mean… with a nice lady?”

“Who’s to say.” You took a sip of Sero’s special beverage. It was gross, but you were here, and probably getting a little annoyed. You came out, so you might as well try to enjoy yourself.

“I’m sure he’ll come down eventually. If he really is with a girl, he’ll be down soon, and he’ll be hungry,” said Kirishima. “Hey, I’m gonna be ordering a pizza. Any topping preference? I was gonna get a few and wanted to make sure—oh, hey!! Bakugou!”

Your eyes followed Kirishima’s to see some grouchy-looking blonde kid coming in from the front door. You took advantage of both Sero and Kirishima greeting the guy with high-fives and fist-bumps, and made your way into the dining room where kids were playing a drinking game on a broken table.

You chatted a bit with a few kids you hadn’t met before, a girl whose name you forgot from the biology class you took last semester, and some guy who was so drunk you couldn’t comprehend a single mumble that rolled off his tongue. Nobody seemed to know where Kaminari was. Nobody seemed to have seen any boy with purple hair and an angelic face...

You scooted past three boys who were playing some stupid slapping game and into the living room. You sat down on the couch and checked in on your phone messages. It’s been two hours since Kaminari last texted you to come over. You thought about shooting him a text now, but—

‘Do you realize that all of the air in the room goes out when you walk in?’

You choked on air, as embarrassing as that was, and looked up, expecting to see someone who spoke to you. Nobody was paying you any mind for Kaminari's shitty couch, but you knew you heard that titillating voice, and it wasn’t because you were crazy.

‘Such a pretty little thing to be left all alone at a party. Did you lose your fan club?’

“Actually, I chose to sit here by myself,” you said aloud, minding the few people who actually turned to see you talking to yourself. You shrunk back into the couch and pretended to be taking a video of yourself.

‘Well, I’m sure. It’s a comfortable couch, afterall—better when shared.’

Oh, so this voice was a dirty, little thot. You clicked your tongue and texted Kaminari. ‘Hey, I’m here. Where are you?’

Kaminari(11:02): side yard.

Hopping up, you headed for the sliding patio door.

‘Eager to see your babe, babe?’

“Oh, shut up!” You hissed while walking outside and a girl watching a beer pong game frowned at you. You weren’t sure, you thought that you could hear a chuckle in the very far back-end of your head.

Kaminari was in the side yard, thank god. He was leaning against the house, staring absently at the side gate. He was alone, not on his phone or anything to keep him busy. He was just standing there.

“Hey, Kami!”

Kaminari barely turned his head towards you when he said, “hey...”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! What are you doing hiding away in the side yard?”

“‘m just chillin’. Waitin’ for my friend…”

“A friend?” You asked. “Kaminari, are you okay?”

“Of course,” Kaminari said, still staring at the side gate. “I’ve never been better… it’s a nice night…”

You stepped out in front of him. Kaminari didn’t meet your gaze; his yellow eyes were hazy and blank. You waved your hand in front of his face and he didn’t even react.

“Kami…”

“It’s a real nice night,” he repeated dreamily. “I‘m waiting for a friend...”

“What friend, Kami? Who are you waiting for?”

“Uhh… Dunno. He just left…”

“What does he look like?” You asked, growing impatient. Kaminari wasn’t the brightest, but he was never really this slow. There was something wrong with him.

“Hmmm… like the moon…”

“Denki.”

“...”

“I saw you near a kid with purple hair and a lot of jewelry in some of the snaps you sent, Kaminari. Do you know where I might be able to find him? He was at the last party too.”

“Yeah... That’s my friend…”

Thank god, thank god someone else knew who the hell you were talking about. “Do you know where he went?”

“To get a snack…” At that, Kaminari cracked a grin.

Fangs and blood flashed in your mind. You clenched your teeth together. If you remembered correctly, perhaps purple-haired-couch-kid’s idea of a snack wasn’t suitable for this party. You grabbed his wrist. “C’mon, let's go back inside. You need some water.”

But when you turned back to your house, you bumped right into what felt like a brick wall. But it wasn’t a brick wall. This barrier was a person whose ivory skin practically glowed an eerie white under the moonlight. This barrier was a person whose indigo eyes scanned you like a marauder finding his treasure. This barrier was a person whose flushed lips tugged up into a smirk when you shrieked.

Your stomach sank when he laughed at you after you leapt back and against Kaminari’s chest. Kaminari placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, as if he was trying to be reassuring, but his touch was too light and vacant to do much to calm you.

Goosebumps crawled up your skin when you took in couch-kid’s sudden appearance. You were mad at yourself for thinking that even though he was frightening in the dark, his sharp jawline was practically begging to be nibbled on.

Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with you?! You couldn’t be thinking about hooking up with strangers that bite while Denki was high and everyone else was forgetting shit! You shook your head and scowled.

“Sorry about that… didn’t mean to scare you.” Your heart did a little jump at hearing his voice for the first time. At least, you were pretty sure this was the first time you’d heard it. It did sound oddly familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it.  

Couch-kid held out his hand. For a second, you thought he was going to shake your hand, but then you saw that he was holding a wrapped cereal bar. Froot Loops. “Here you go, Denki.”

Kaminari’s arm snaked through the opening between your arm and waist to grab the treat. Your body nearly vibrated from being only just a couple inches away from Couch-kid’s finger tips. His arms were nice—white and long, but strong, with a few prominent veins running up them. Did he drink weird, keto-friendly protein shakes with kale and shit added in them like Kirishima? Why did you care?

“Oh man, thanks Shinsou. I was starting to get dizzy,” Kaminari said, unwrapping the sweet treat. You heard him crunching from behind you, and you don’t know why, but you were suddenly very irritated with his presence. You shouldn’t have been. There was obviously something going on with him and you should’ve been wanting to help him out, but then, you really wanted to be alone with Couch-kid. The thought just made you more agitated.

“Not a problem,” Couch-kid—Shinsou—purred. He didn’t look at Kaminari when he spoke; he was eyeing you.

“Shinsou,” you said, pulling at the hem of your skirt. Did he remember you? Did he think you were dumb for staring at him without saying anything for so long back at the last party?

“That’s me.” Shinsou grinned. This time, he took your hand, rather than offering his, and kissed the back of your wrist. You honestly would have swooned if you didn’t see him do the exact same thing to Yui Kodai just a short while ago. Still, his cool lips making contact with your skin made tiny electric currents shoot up from your arm, to your neck. You shuddered. “I don’t think we’ve officially met. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The, uh… pleasure’s all mine?” That was what they said in the movies, right? Cheesy soaps, whomst? What a weird thing to say, anyways. Even still, as silly as that old-time greeting was, he could’ve easily said something as ridiculous as, ‘charmed, I’m sure,’ and you still wouldn’t have been able to muster out a bark of laughter like you would with literally anywhere else.

“Denki, didn’t you say you wanted to go sing some karaoke?” Shinsou asked, his eyes still on you.

“I did say that,” Kaminari said, taking another bite out of his cereal bar. “Karaoke sounds nice…” And without any ceremony, he started walking. Sliding past you, he made his way down the side of the house. Just like that?! He was going to leave you with a stranger?

You called, “wait! Kaminari... are you really okay? You were acting a little funky just a minute ago.”

“Mmm, yeah, I’m fine. I just really wanted cereal.” Kaminari wiggled the now empty bar wrapper in the air. “But Shinsou took very good care of me…” That faraway look returned to his eyes when he said, “I’ll catch you later, babe.” With that, he was gone, leaving you alone with a guy who simultaneously made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your heart melt with a quirk of his brow.

Shinsou’s eyes scanned over you, up from where your hand was bunched up in your skirt, to your torso, your collar bones, your lips, then back down to your neck. Unease settled over you when his eyes finally met yours and you had to quickly look away. You wished that  you were anywhere else in the world. You also wished you could think of something, anything, to say to him, but asking about Kodai seemed to be so wrong to you, at the moment, and the last time either of you had interacted, you were about to hop into his lap!

Finally, you mustered, “do you know if he smoked anything? He really wasn’t acting like his usual self. I’m worried something might be wrong…”

“Not to my knowledge. He might’ve had a couple drinks though,” Shinsou said. There was another long pause, and you fought your brain to come up up a normal conversational topic, but Shinsou beat you to to the punch. “Is he your boyfriend?”  

“What? No!” You still couldn’t look him in the eye as you answered. You hoped that it was dark enough to be able to hide your flushing face. “He’s really just a friend.”

“He calls you ‘babe’, though.”

“Yeah, well, if you put a skirt on, I’m sure he’d call you babe too.” You shrugged. “He’s just a flirt.”

“You weren’t wearing a skirt at that last party,” Shinsou mused, which gave you a little rush. He remembered you. “And he still called you babe.”

You pressed your lips together to keep from smiling, but your humor rang out in your voice when you asked, “are you interested in him or something? Because I can go get him back for you, if you want. I’m pretty sure he dated a guy our sophomore year.”

Shinsou clicked his tongue, amused. “It’s not him I’m interested in. Not really my type.”

“Right, right,” you laughed, gaining more confidence. “Well, I haven’t seen Kodai here tonight, but I think I have her number saved. Would you like me to give her a ring? It’s the least I can do for you taking care of my poor, dumb not-boyfriend while I was away.”

You reached inside your purse to grab your phone. You really would have called her, but before you could even touch your phone, Shinsou’s fingers were wrapped around your wrist. You almost yelped. Shinsou’s fingers were much cooler than his lips were and it surprised you.

“I knew you were jealous,” he remarked darkly. Immediately, you yanked your arm free, but that only prompted him to grab your wrist from a newer angle. You narrowed in on him, ready to bite—he was someone you didn’t know grabbing you, so obviously you had every right to—but as soon as you gazed into his eyes, you were lost.

His pupils were abyssal; so dark that they appeared white. Looking at him, your body felt cool—numb almost. Beyond any control, your body relaxed which made you lose your tight grip of Sero’s shitty piña colada. You didn’t even care about the cold, sloshy mess splattering over your heels.

Shinsou backed you into the wall, his stare intense, his lips parted and amused. He planted his free hand on your arm and took his time running it up to your shoulder, your neck. The tips of his fingers lightly danced across your jugular, the pad of his thumb slowly running up and down the pulsing vein. He scrutinized you dangerously, daring you to move, to run, to scream for help. Not knowing whether you were scared or aroused, you let him touch you, though ‘let’ didn’t seem like the appropriate word. It was like you had no other choice. He wanted to study you, so he would, and you would not object. So naturally, when Shinsou slid his hand to the nape of your neck, you turned to grant him access to what you knew what he really wanted.

He first pressed his nose up against your skin and inhaled deeply. You shivered as he groaned, “I’ve been waiting for you for too damn long. My sanguine.”

When Shinsou’s lips pressed against your flesh, you melted. Every nerve-ending in your body set aflame; you were no closer to fleeing the scene than you were indulging in the sweet sensation that his kiss had to offer. His cool tongue traveled up your neck, sending waves of jubilant shivers down your spine. His fingers hooked around your shoulder as he deepened the kiss. You felt a tingling sensation warming up between your legs that was only a tiny bit eased when he lodged his knee between you. His hand slid down your back where he pulled you on to him more comfortably; held up by his thigh, his arm, and nothing more.

“Nhhh-“ you tried to object, like you should, like you knew you wanted to, but a carnal urge pulled at the strings of your willpower. Whether he kissed you, or killed you, you wouldn’t be able to deny him his satisfaction. You would give him, Shinsou, a stranger, anything he wanted at any given moment.

But when you heard your name called from inside, the spell was broken.  

You tensed. Shinsou’s lips froze against your skin. You felt his hands tighten around you protectively, possessively, and you knew you were in deep shit.

“Kiri,” you whispered despite wanting nothing more than to say another man’s name. Kirishima was looking for you and yet, here you were, in his side yard, with another boy. Perhaps you hadn’t changed as much as you originally thought you had.

“Don’t-!” Shinsou hissed when you tried to pull away. There was urgency in his voice, something unexpected from him. His eyes were desperate and hungry. Terrifying. It felt good knowing that he wanted to keep you, and that thought was more frightening than what you thought was his original intentions. Fingers slid their way to your waist, and Shinsou bowed his head, dipping in to kiss your lips, but before he could, your hand fell on his face.

It wasn’t a slap, no. You literally put your entire ass palm on his face to save yourself from a kiss you actually wanted.

“O-oh god!” You stuttered out. Beyond any responsible control, you shoved his head back. “I’m sorry!”

Finally freed, you bolted a good five feet away from him, back towards the house. Your assaulter gazed at you with surprise, sleepy eyes rounded in a sort of sincere, pitiful way, but you couldn’t let his dejection get to you. You swallowed harshly as you backed away from him and the wall, going against every fiber in your body telling you to stay put, to stay at his side, to let him satiate any and all needs that he had.

The thing is, you would have. Despite not being able to bark out the half-dozen questions you had for him (why do you bite people? Why can’t anybody remember you? Why do I think I can hear your voice in my head? Why the sudden smooches? What the fuck?) you would have stayed with him there, had you not heard your name called a second time.

“Leaving so soon?” Shinsou asked, gaining some composure, though as lax as he tried to make himself seem, there was an imperative note in his tone. “Don’t want to let your fan club down, I guess.” His voice was a shrug. “And here I thought you were going around asking about me.”

That was so excruciatingly embarrassing; being caught showing interest. Did he know how many people you spoke to? You wished you could wither up and blow away right then and there.

You glanced through the glass door to see Kirishima holding his phone up to your ear. A second later, your phone started buzzing. You ignored it.

“I guess I just wanted to know who you were, is all,” you said, a perfectly normal response. That was you: calm, cool, and collected—totally not willing to makeout with extremely hot strangers out of nowhere. “I haven’t seen you around before that last party…” which would be a perfectly fine segue into asking him why he bit Yui Kodai, if only you could will your body to ask!

“So you’re satisfied?”

“Uh-huh!” Not at all. Not at all. But that didn’t stop you from turning back towards the house.

‘Liar.’

Your body went cold. The voice rang too clearly to have been said aloud, but it was definitely his. In. Your. Head.

“What did you say?” You asked, turning back, trying to keep your tone steady. You didn’t know why, but you thought it would be bad if he heard your voice crack or squeak.

“I asked if you were satisfied. We barely got to converse and yet, you’re skittering away after making such a fuss about finding me. Why is that?”

“I’m not skittering away and—hey!” You put your hands on your hips. “You called me a liar just now, didn’t you?”

Shinsou placed his hands in his hips, mocking you. “I said no such thing!”

“Well, no, maybe you didn’t say it with your mouth…”

“What else would I have said it with? My hips?” He smirked. “Are you sure it wasn’t your own conscience calling you out?”

You scoffed. You couldn’t believe he was teasing you!” And what about your conscience?! Do you just go around attacking people’s necks out of nowhere like that as a hobby?!”

“Interesting choice of words,” he chuckled. “No, I wouldn’t say attacking people is a hobby, but more of a necessity. And I don’t usually go for the neck, either. I save that intimacy for victims who are a little more willing…”

‘Really, I wouldn’t want a single drop of you to run down your arms, anyways.’

“Willing?!” You started, incredulous. You pointed a shaking finger at him and continued with, “you really have a thing or two to learn about cons-!”

“Hey!” Kirishima was sliding the door to patio open. “I was looking for you! The pizza’s almost gone, but I saved you a couple slices.” He looked at you and registered the expression on your face. His eyes narrowed as he approached you. “Who are you talking to?”

But when Kirishima looked down the side yard, there was nobody there—just the slushy remains of your piña colada. He bent down to pick the cup up to see you shaken, wordless. “What happened?”

You could only shake your head. Because you didn’t know what happened—you didn’t know anything! Shinsou was there and now he wasn’t, and the more you tried to say anything on the matter, the more the words got stuck at the back of your throat.

“Hey,” Kirishima said, full of concern. He grabbed both of your trembling hands and wound his fingers through yours. That was intimate. Something sweet. Something that was supposed to be reassuring. What in the hell was supposed to be intimate about a guy you barely met narrowing in on your neck like that.

You sighed and allowed your head to fall against Kirishima’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close while that angry blonde kid, Bakugou, appeared at the doorway, munching on a slice of pizza (probably the last one.) He took one look at you, rolled his eyes, and walked away. Kirishima asked you what happened once more. You said, “I’d just really like to get home.”

“Let me walk with you,” Kirishima whispered. That would be pulling him away from his own party, but he didn’t seem to care about that. The world really needed more Kirishimas.

“Okay.”

Making your way through the house, you saw Kaminari in the living room slurring the lyrics to a lame song, Sero cheering him on while simultaneously recording every word, and Bakugou glaring out the front window. Kirishima quickly told Sero where the two of you were headed which made Sero form a tight line with his mouth. After seeing the stricken expression on your face, Sero seemed to ease up a bit.

Kirishima held your hand while he walked with you. He tried to make light conversation, attempting to get your mind off of whatever happened when you were alone in his side yard, but you couldn’t entertain him with idle chit chat. The entire walk home, you thought you felt somebody’s watchful gaze on you.

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING (CLOSED): @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten @rubycubix@smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy@sarcastictextstuck@kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow@wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn@im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai@eggpienutbuttercroissant@usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Paths Untaken

Sokkla Saturdays 3: Lost In The Forest And Feelings

Summary: Azula is lost in a forest that shows her visions of what could have been.

She isn’t sure when she had become so sensitive, she thinks that it might be the forest. It is doing things to her and to her mind. Things that she resents but she can’t find her way out of it. She isn’t exactly sure for how long she has been wandering but her feet hurt and her back aches.

She knows that she is on her last fragments of energy and is no closer to finding where the treeline ends and civilization starts. She is so tired. So tired and no longer able to see the point in trekking onwards. Really what does she have to go back to? There isn’t anything left for her at all.

Azula staggers forward just a few more steps before dropping to her hands and knees and letting out a frustration and helpless scream. Maybe someone will hear her. Maybe someone will come for her.

If they don’t, she has nothing left to fight for, she will let herself wither away into nothing. She is already nothing. Nothing but raw emotion, the same emotion that she has fought so hard to suppress.

She bunches her shaking body up and lets the tears come because, really, what does it matter? No one is around. No one is ever around when she breaks. When she needs someone.

.oOo.

The forest still shows her things. Taunts her with visions. Visions of how things could be.

She wishes that it would just torment her with the visions of the past. With things that she can’t go back and undo. Instead it shows her how her life could have unfolded if she was a better person. If she had a loving father or if she hadn’t been too unlovable for her mother.

In the rays of sunlight that cut through the canopy she sees a laughing child being hoisted into her mother’s arms and twirled around and a giggling brother waiting for his turn. The leaves will shift and so does the image. She sees herself as she’d been some months ago--perhaps a year now--but she is wandering with her brother and her uncle, banished but somehow content. They have each other.

And in the holes in the barks of the most ancient trees she sees different futures. Futures where she’d let Zuko go at the Boiling Rock. Mai doesn’t leave her then. She isn’t alone when she slips and Mai and TyLee take her through it.

Futures where she is happy and loved. Futures that she can’t have.

Today she sees it in a pond. The version of her that appears on the surface still has tired eyes and a pallor to her skin. But those tired eyes have a lively spark and her hand is interwoven with the hand of another. And the other’s free hand brushes shorter locks away from her face.

It takes her a moment to recognize the man that is carasessing the her in the water. He is a bit scruffier and much more muscular. But it is definitely him. It is definitely Sokka. He leans in and kisses her. She hears it in the rustling of the leaves, “I love you, Azula.” She cups her hands over her ears and scrambles away from the pond.

But she can’t flee from the image, it is all around. It unfolds day by day and with such persistence that it doesn’t wait for sunrays, tree holes, or ponds. It simply plays out before her like the hallucinations she is accustomed to. And maybe that’s what this is; her mind unraveling to a deeper degree.

Whatever it is, she sees herself laying on the grass next to him. He looms over her, tucks a firelily behind her ear, and kisses her nose. He tells her that she is beautiful and that she is the most clever woman that he has had the pleasure of meeting. She reaches up and cups his face. He offers her a peach.

Sleep doesn’t drive the visions out either. They come to her in very vivid dreams. They spar and banter as they do it. He is teaching her to use a sword and she is trying to teach him to incorporate firebending forms into his swordsmanship. And then he backs off to watch her firebend. He is always smiling and always encouraging her. She is better when he is around. Even when she stumbles, she doesn’t feel like a failure. Not when she can jest that he was a distraction. Not when his hand is held out to her. Not when he is offering to get some ice for her bruised knees. She wakes up with her knees throbbing and a fresh sense of longing.

She is exhausted as she drags herself along. She can’t remember the last time she has eaten. Her mind is on water for the time being, her thirst is more pressing. She has been putting off drinking for a while now, the pond is always the worst. She takes a deep breath and makes her way over to it.

She closes her eyes and cups her hands. They meet the water and she brings it to her lips. But closed eyes don’t block the sound of his voice. The sound of her own, much lighter and happier. The sound of her own laugh as it mixes with his.

She balls her fists and presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. She feels moisture on them before she realizes that she is crying again. She makes the mistake of opening her eyes and then she finds herself unable to tear them away from the reflection in the pond.

In it, her face looks some fuller and she thinks that it might be the pond’s distortion. But she follows the length of her reflection’s arm to where her hand rests cupped over Sokka’s. His smile is so warm. Her own expression is warm. Warmer and softer and kinder to the point where she almost doesn’t recognize it. She doesn’t recognize her.

Azula can’t see this sort of life for herself, not at all. And yet it leaves her stomach fluttering with a deep yearning for something she never asked for. Something that never was and never will be.

She stares at the reflection on the pond until her eyes burn. Stares at it until the image is imprinted in her mind waiting to surface in her dreams.

And it does. Sokka tells her, again, that he loves her as his hand caresses the swell of her pregnancy.

In waking she knows that, that isn’t what she wants. She is no mother. She doesn’t want to be one. But, Agni, does she wish that, that is what she wants. She slumps against the bark of the tree and asks the forest why it is tormenting her so.

She is dizzy with stress and hunger. She no longer has the willpower to do anything about it. She has made a decision; she will let herself wither away into nothing. After all, she is already nothing.

.oOo.

Things unfold in a daze, Azula is only dimly aware that she is on her way home. They give her drink and food and they lay her down and tuck her in. She is warm and comfortable for the first time in ages but she still feels sick to her stomach. Sick with nerves and the prospect of false hope. She’d rather have no hope at all.

She wishes that the world wouldn’t torment her like so.

Azula squeezes her eyes shut but she still feels his hand cupped over hers. She knows that it is not Zuko because his touch is warmer than the one she is feeling now. She knows that it is not Zuko’s touch because she has felt this one so many times before.

“Are you real?” It is the first thing she has said in ages.

And that voice...it is so familiar. “Yeah, I’m real.” He chuckles, “can a hallucination do this?” He gives his boomerang a light flick and a stack of books topples off of the nightstand. He rubs the back of his head, “whoops.”

Azula gives a small and haughty sniff. “My hallucinations have more grace than that.”

“Oh, Zuko is going to be so relieved!” Sokka exclaims.

“Why is that?” She refuses to turn around and face him.

“Well...the first thing that you said was something snarky and off-handed. That means that you’re back to normal, right?”

Azula gives another sniff that is accompanied by a bitter laugh. “Normal? You think that this is normal? There’s something wrong with me, Sokka…” she hisses his name. “There always has been.” The forest had done a good job of reminding her of this.

“Yeah, you’re pretty messed up.” He agrees with a nonchalant hand gesture.

Her heart sinks and she isn’t sure why. Did she really expect him to be as tender and loving with her as the illusion of him was. Does she even want that? She dismisses the thought that she does, but she can’t cast it away completely. Can’t cast away her disappointment when he adds, “that’s normal for you.”

“Being messed up?”

He nods.

She swallows, feeling tears prickling the back of her eyes. “I could have been different…” she mumbles, though she isn’t sure why.

His brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Nevermind.” She replies.

“Azula…”

“Just...just go get Zuko.”

“Look, I was just joking...sort of.” He rubs the back of his head again. “I mean you are messed up but so is Zuko. And so am I. I think that this whole war thing did a number on all of us.”

“And somehow I’m still the only monster that it made.”

Sokka flinches. “I don’t think that that’s true.”

“Who else then?”

He squeezes her hand. “Believe it or not, I don’t think that you’re a monster. Monsters don’t have the self-awareness to call themselves monsters.”

She swallows again.

“Monsters don’t cry.”

Azula wipes at her eyes. “I’m not crying.”

He laughs again. “If you say so.”

Azula presses her head deeper into the pillow and focuses in on the steady rocking of the ship. Hopefully she will be home soon and she can put the visions behind her. Can start getting her life back to normal. She bites her lip, she isn’t sure how she can manage such a thing.

Sokka’s smile fades “Are you going to be okay?”

She shakes her head. She truly doesn’t think so.

“Well I might try to help you if you ask nicely…”

“I can help myself.”

“Well, it was worth a shot.” He mutters to himself. To her, he says, “okay fine, I’ll just do it then.”

She gnaws on the inside of her cheek. He is supposed to shot at her, to tell her to stop being so stubborn. He is supposed to be angry.

“You’ll let me help you, right?”

Her tummy flutters and she thinks of the visions in the trees and in the rays of the sun. Of the paths she didn’t take and the smiles she never wore. In her mind she can see another vision created, another future that she didn’t take…

She wonders if the forest would have shown her ill-fated futures too had she picked the right path. She hopes that she never has to find out.

She rolls over to face him.

“Is that a yes?”

“Is it?” She returns the question.

He gives her a small nudge, “not everything has to be some big puzzle, some things are as simple as yes or no.”

“Not this.” She replies.

He quirks a brow. “Either you’re going to let me help you or you aren’t.”

“It’s not that simple.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s fine, because I already know the answer.”

“Do you?”

“I do.” He holds his hand out and two futures are born. “Come on deck, the sunsets look really nice.”

She can take it and let him lead her on deck or she can swat it away, creating just another vision in the tree trunks. She takes a deep breath and sits up. She stares at his hand for a moment. A very long moment. She doesn’t know what she was thinking. She isn’t sure that she was thinking at all. His hand curls around hers and he fixes her with a soft and comforting smile. “I thought so.”

He pushes the door to the cabin open and light spills over her face.

[romancingromanoff]

Dream At Dusk Part 3/? OFC x Cullen Family

Ellen show with Scarlett Johansson part three is next :)

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Three months later

Esme

The amount of time that had passed since Maggie was first welcomed into their home was usually a blink of an eye for most people. Humans could always be counted on to say, “Wow, summer went by so fast,” or “I can’t believe it’s the start of a new school year already” this time of year as September was about to roll in and kids were preparing to head back to classes. Parents were snapping shots of their kids on the first day, much to many students’s dismay (especially the older ones which were becoming way too cool for such childish things now), and incessantly crying about how the little ones grew up so fast and that they would freeze time if they could.

For the Cullens, however, it should have felt even quicker; less memorable considering the fact that each of the “kids” had experienced several dozen first days of school but this one was definitely worth pulling out all of the stops for.

“Emmett, you’re not leaving until we get a first day of school picture outside,” Esme stopped him as he was reaching for the keys from the bowl.

“Seriously? You know we’re basically going to go in there and quietly keep to ourselves like we do every year, right?”

“Come on, this is really important to Maggie and I know you’re not actually in any kind of rush to get there,” she quickly shuffled him along through the front door where Carlisle had set up a camera and tripod a couple of yards away from the house, opposite to where the rest of the family had grouped together. Esme couldn’t help but smile seeing Maggie, their newest member, engaged in conversation with her siblings before enthusiastically sending them off to Forks High.

She was still a newborn and probably wouldn’t be allowed to attend school with the others for the next few years at the very least but Maggie was excited to at least have the ability to live vicariously through the others. Hearing stories about high school drama or whatever gossip was running through Forks’s teenage population would definitely be good for her to hear after three months of being cooped up inside the house. She was desperate to know what was going on in the outside world but obviously didn’t want to risk putting anyone in danger either, so this was the closest she could get for now.

“Promise me you’ll bring home extra copies of your assignments so I can do them?” She held her small pinky finger up to Alice who simply laughed in response before shaking it.

“Of course! I don’t know why you’d want to put yourself through a high school English literature class on Chaucer but be my guest! You can even do my homework for me if you want.”

“Well, I really don’t have much else to do. And it’s not like I can just sleep whenever to pass the time anymore either,” she shrugged, quietly laughing at her own situation. How different things used to be just three months ago when she could spend more time sleeping than anything else, yet still feel exhausted and drowsy. Nowadays, napping was more of a hobby for Maggie who was still in amazement trying to process the fact that narcolepsy didn’t rule over her entire life anymore.

Since the incident with her fainting and the floor suddenly becoming wet, no other sleep attacks had occurred, though Carlisle was still suspicious that it could happen again if Maggie was ever triggered by a sudden, extreme emotion like fear or anger. In the last three months with the Cullens, she’d felt like she was much more in control of her life and wakefulness despite being a slightly peculiar case amongst vampires. They still hadn’t figured out exactly how much her condition of narcolepsy now influenced her second life but unlike her human state, which was constantly disrupted by exhaustion (a consequence of her inability to get any productive sleep no matter how many hours she got at night), she rarely felt tired. It wasn’t like she needed to sleep and she could potentially go throughout her indefinite existence without ever shutting her eyes again, but there was just a little vibration in the back of her head that buzzed a little too loud if she went too long without a short nap. Staying awake wasn’t impossible but it was a nuisance that ate away at her emotional state. If she went a month without a break of a few minutes of sleep in between time she’d get noticeably crankier. Maggie would become more irritable and, as a result, also lost a lot of her self control when it came to her thirst. And that was something they definitely did not want to risk.

They found that Maggie could easily relieve vampiric equivalent to exhaustion by taking a few minutes to nap every two weeks or so. The duration was usually 5-7 minutes with 10 being the absolute longest she could stay asleep. It was usually a lazy Sunday afternoon when she’d lightly tug on Esme’s arm and look up at her with those big brown baby eyes of hers to signal that it was time for her to lie down. And each time, Esme would gladly allow the young one to pull her into her bed (the first an only one ever actually needed for sleeping purposes in the Cullen house) and cuddle up to her before drifting off into a realm mysterious to all others of their kind.

Esme had always been a cheery, tender spirit; the epitome of a devoted mother, but even Carlisle had never seen her in a more naturally maternal state before Maggie came along. Sometimes her naps would be preceded by some soft humming or even singing on Esme’s part, which tended to lead to relatively dreamless sleeps for Maggie. This usually prevented random things from spontaneously popping up and out from her imagination.

As a narcoleptic human, Maggie had always had vivid dreams and unfathomably realistic hallucinations or nightmares. As a vampire, her tendency to dream had been greatly subdued, but every once in a while her mind would wander off in its sleep to a place she had been thinking of earlier. The first time she’d taken a nap after the water incident was shortly after Carlisle and Esme had been describing one of their anniversary trips to Yellowstone. She’d unconsciously gotten swept up in the vision of tall, breezy grass fields filled with wildflowers and inhabited by giant fluffy bison roaming across the sun setting in the distance. Luckily, only a few tiny dandelions and other harmless flowers sprouted up around her pillow as a result. No bison this time.

“Just promise you won’t dream of some freaky ‘Canterbury Tales’ shit and flood the house again,” Emmett playfully teased at her, sticking his tongue out. Maggie had quickly become the little sister he had always longed for. She was certainly the only one in the family with a similar enough childlike attitude to keep up with all of Emmett’s pranking without getting too annoyed by his immaturity, which made them a dangerous duo. Rosalie was by far their favorite person to mess with even if the consequences were terrifying to face afterwards. Just last week they had carefully replaced her hairspray with bright orange spray paint and then spent the next few days being chased by an shrieking, angry ginger all around the house.

“If I do, your room is getting flooded first,” Maggie rolled her eyes at the big buffoon she was surprised to be able to call her brother. Usually loud individuals like Emmett were nothing but intimidating to her and she’d spent almost all of her human life avoiding those that reminded her of him. But in her second life, she’d found Emmett to be the most chill in the family and he seemed to capture all of the positive possibilities that awaited their kind. He often took her exploring and they could find themselves wasting hours flipping from the tops of mountains and parkouring through miles of the wilderness. Esme and the rest of the Cullens had all noticed that he definitely brought her out of her shell.

“I don’t foresee that being a problem,” Alice said with a smile.

“Well, if you ever do see it becoming a possible problem then it stops right away because I will NOT tolerate water damage to my room and especially not my closet,” Rosalie towered over her with the white stiletto heels she had chosen for their first day of school. “You all are lucky the orange paint was able to wash out of my hair by today or else Emmett wouldn’t be going to school either.”

“Rosalie, back row please,” Carlisle stood behind the camera trying to organize all of them by height. When they all finally settled in with Maggie and Alice at the very front, Esme just behind Maggie with her hands on her shoulders, Jasper holding Alice with Edward standing next to him, and Rosalie plus Emmett in the back, Carlisle pressed the timer button and walked on over to Esme’s side and each of them then smiled. A few quick flashes of light burst from the camera.

“Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, Edward? Watch over Jasper, okay?” Esme quickly hugged each of her children while reminding them to steer the newest vegetarian convert away from the humans if it ever got too bad for him. There hadn’t been an incident in quite a while but a few recent close calls had them worried. Esme also knew that it was eating at his self-esteem though. “You can do this, honey,” she gently brushed her hand against his cheek and he gave her an encouraging smile.

“Thank you very much, ma’am,” he slipped into his southern gentleman’s accent which happened every once in a while. He and Alice then got into their car and drove off behind Emmett and Rosalie’s before being followed by Edward’s. They had headed off to school, Carlisle was about to leave for the hospital, and the two remaining Cullens would have the house to themselves for the next few hours.

Maggie

“I could hunt, take a shower, and then do my piano practice,” Maggie suggested as the two entered the downstairs living room. Edward had been teaching her how to play the piano and she was meant to practice on her own for two to three hours each day.

“Oh, honey, I don’t know about that,” Esme hesitated to say yes. Every time that she’d been outside it had been with Emmett and Jasper nearby as well. Emmett had never had to use force before but he was, in fact, the strongest of the group and the most capable of restraining the newborn if she got out of control and Jasper could also help control her emotions to an extent. If it was just Esme accompanying her this time then it would be the first. She looked out the windows and into the forest before them. Grey clouds were covering up the sun as usual but it hadn’t rained in the past few days so that also meant the mountain was relatively dry. That meant people could certainly be hiking nearby. “Humans could be enjoying the outdoors on a day like today and I just don’t think it’s completely safe.”

“Esme, please?” Maggie was insistent and couldn’t imagine herself not going crazy today if she spent the whole time waiting for the others to get back home. “Carlisle’s been bringing home some of his dirty scrubs from the hospital. The blood residue is basically harmless to me now and you know I wouldn’t risk it if I thought I might hurt somebody.” She tried her best to keep a straight, serious face. Even though she’d struggled with being assertive when making decisions before, there was this inexplicable newfound strength inside of her which brought her self confidence to the surface. Her body wasn’t really her body anymore; at least, not the body she had known for the last 16 years but she had also never been this in touch with her senses before either. She felt as if she could do anything in this new body so long as she willed it in her mind.

“Alright,” she smiled seeing how happy Maggie was as she jumped up and down with excitement. “But I’m coming too and I want you at least 30 feet within range at all times, okay?”

“Yes, of course, just thank you! Thank you, Esme!”

She quickly tied up her newest favorite pair of sneakers and was out the front door as soon as she saw Esme following close behind. Nothing felt more freeing than the wind blowing back her hair as she ran against it with such power. She was like a force of her own, unstoppable by nature itself. And even after months of experiencing this she still couldn’t help but laugh as she sprinted along. It was actually a pretty bad habit of hers keeping her mouth open when she ran. If it weren’t for her precise vision, she probably would have accidentally run into a swarm of bugs and swallowed dozens of them by now. The wind also helped her to hunt since it picked up various scents from her surroundings. Today a flock of geese flying in from the north appeared on the menu but Maggie only sniffed the air with disappointment, searching for something else. She needed something more substantial than poultry and was at least hoping that there would be some deer in the nearby clearing.

Then she caught a whiff of something else. Well, it was more like she was hit by the scent considering how strong it was. Maggie stopped in her tracks, immediately pivoting her body 90 degrees towards the direction her nose was being pulled towards. It was definitely a large animal; the red meat she was looking for, though it wasn’t something she could make out right away. It was giant whatever it was and at first Maggie was convinced that it was a cougar she had targeted but then the scent did the strangest thing. It soured.

Her nose crinkled up into her disgusted face the same way it used to when she caught the smell of expired milk, but worse. This time it was like the chunks of milk were just one individual ingredient in some sort of rotting disaster dish along with spoiled eggs and molding bread. But despite the mystery meat slightly turning off her appetite, there was something else still laced in there that had her mouth watering. As she trotted closer towards its origin the faint thumping of its pulse grew stronger and stronger along with her desire, which had now completely undertaken her mind. The only thing that stood in her way was a fairly wide gorge with a seemingly intimidating stream cutting through it. It was too small to be considered a river, but the jaggedness of the rocks surrounding it and the sheer speed at which the current seemed to slice through the middle made it more than just a simple hop over a puddle. But as the venom began pooling in her mouth it was like it gave her the strength to accelerate even faster as she raced towards the edge. The beast on the other side was bigger than any other creature she’d hunted before but that wasn’t going to stop her. She had latched on to the scent of its blood. That meant that it was hers. Even when the animal finally turned around, noticing her about to pounce, its vicious snarl and strange intensity in its eyes didn’t stop her. Just as she felt her feet lifting off of the ground, something else did. And it hit her like a bus.

Esme

As soon as she saw her turning her body from the corner of her eye, she knew she had lost her. For the first few milliseconds of time that passed in between, she hung on the prayer that it was just a bear or some other predator she had caught the scent of. Whatever it was, Esme certainly wasn’t going to be able to outrun her. Still, she hoped that she wouldn’t have to; that it was just an animal a little bit larger than usual that would satisfy her thirst before they could quickly return home without a trace. But then she smelled it.

“Maggie, no!” She screamed to no avail. Her cries begging her to stop might as well have been yelled at a waterfall or a hurricane. Esme felt herself falling apart from the inside as she watched the girl that was so precious to her near the edge. She moved very much like a storm and shared its disregard for borders and boundaries but, unfortunately, the wolves didn’t. And they wouldn’t be so forgiving of her nature. In turn, Esme didn’t think she could ever forgive herself if they touched her so she stood there petrified by the whole sense that she, an immortal and nearly all-powerful being, had somehow fallen flat to the helplessness of fate. She wanted to scream at herself. She wanted to scream at the world, cry for help, something, anything!

With a flash of light passing by, it was like her prayers were answered. Esme knew it was Edward just from how fast he moved as he came in from the east sprinting straight at the thirst-driven newborn. She gaped with a cry breaking through the breath she was holding as she watched him hurl his body like a catapult at Maggie who was going in for her prey like a missile. Luckily, with the element of surprise on his side, Edward was able to just intercept the smaller vampire before her feet could touch down into Quillete territory. As he began to take her down with him, Emmett came in full speed from the same direction Edward had come from and just at the right moment too. Surprised but still in primal mode, Maggie had only been set back momentarily after Edward shoved the both of them straight into a truck sized boulder before she brutally pushed him to the side with a loud hissing sound. She was just about to reset her body and leap back into the air when Emmett tackled her head on. In an instant, all of the momentum she was focusing was suddenly thrust backwards along with the rest of her body which drove straight through the boulder behind her like it was as flimsy as cardboard.

“Emmett, quickly!” Another voice sounded from nearby. Whipping her head towards the speaker, Esme’s eyes almost relaxed in relief when she saw Alice and Carlisle darting towards them. In the next second, her mate was by her side, stroking her arms comfortingly as she tried to sputter out a billion of the thoughts rolling through her mind.

“It’s all my fault,” she held onto Carlisle letting him hold up some of the weight she was having trouble with on her own. A dizziness had overcome her senses and she couldn’t keep herself steady. “I should’ve never let her leave the house.”

“It’s alright. Alice saw it on time… hopefully,” he tried to assure his mate best he could while also trying to remain as vague as possible. Because in truth, Alice had only seen that Maggie was in trouble somewhere near where the two territories met up. She hadn’t exactly seen how it ended or would have ended at the time but he knew he had to keep that information from Esme for as long as possible. He already frowned seeing how badly she was beating herself up

“Try to calm her down!” Edward yelled, finally able to pick himself back up. The distinguishable cracks that blemished his marbled cheek looked painful but he was still able to bark orders. On cue, Jasper swung down from up above in the trees as Emmett wrestled to get Maggie’s arms behind her. Alice catapulted herself on top of her shoulders and tried to force her down to the ground with her weight, but the newborn bucked back like a wild stallion, still trying to throw them off of her. Everyone stared intently at Jasper as he began to focus his complete attention on the newborn in front of him. With her eyes dilated and teeth showing Maggie was barely recognizable. No one could tell if it was working or not.

“Esme, we need you over here,” Jasper spoke loud enough to convey the direness of the situation but was still somehow able to keep calm. Nodding at her mate to show she was fine, Esme tried to follow his lead and kept as relaxed of a demeanor as possible as she approached Maggie. Emmett and Alice had her wrestled down to her knees but the screams of panic and pain that only got louder as she neared closer were unbearable to hear. By this point, the wolf who had remained in place and fiercely guarded the border had already signaled the rest of the pack. It was only a matter of time before more wolves showed up and they needed to get Maggie out of there before that happened.

“Maggie, it’s alright, shhhh,” she tried to soothe her into calming down. But it was like she was speaking to a stranger; her thirst had overtaken her entire perception and she was unable to recognize anyone. Family, friend, enemy, or foe, none of that mattered anymore. She only saw her prey and those that stood in the way of it. “It’s Esme, darling. I love you, please, calm down.”

As she cooed the little one’s screams down and her struggling gradually subdued, it seemed like she was getting through to the Maggie on the inside and she was surfacing back to her old self. Timid and unsure while it was all happening, Emmett subconsciously began to loosen his grip ever so slightly upon seeing that Maggie was settling down. Both Jasper and Edward, who knew the importance of never underestimating a newborn, cried to stop him at the same time.

“Emmett, NO!” They screamed just an instant too late. The other two boys immediately jumped into the scuffle as Maggie instantly reverted back to primal mode and began recklessly kicking at everything surrounding her. In the mix up, bodies scrambled to push her back down all at once, making individuals impossible for the newborn to distinguish. And in the chaos as she flung her limbs like weapons at everything around her, Esme felt a sharp kick to her abdomen and the brute force sent her flying backwards and over the wrong side of the border.

[heroes-hq-blog1]

SPECTRE IS OFFICIALLY READY TO JOIN THE ACADEMY!

› AHN SUNGJIN › 18 YEARS OLD › PSIONIC ENERGY MANIPULATION › NEW TO THE ACADEMY

POWER

psionic energy manipulation — sungjin is gifted with the ability to create, shape, and manipulate psionic energy produced by the mind. the boy being able to wield it even in its most physical forms. sungjin’s powers manifest in a glowing red mist.

STRENGTHS psi-energy influence  —  by channelling and manipulating psi energy in any shape or form, he is able to gain influence and control over its physical form. some basic uses of it are psionic energy attacks in the form of blasts, beams, bolts, and the like. also, not to forget his favorite application, psychokinetic influence where he is able to shape psionic energy around matter and control its movement. this is where sungjin is most trained and experienced in. psi-energy flyrogenesis  — a defensive ability wherein he can generate a shield of psionic energy to protect him and others from external, physical harm. psi-reading  — everyone has their own unique psionic energy in them and sungjin found that he is able to feel them – sometimes it’s a smell, sometimes it’s a color. they’re so individual, he, himself, can’t describe how they feel for certain, he just knows they’re there. when he knows the person very well and has been with them for long, he’ll be able to figure out who they are just by the feeling of their psionic energy. with the help of his brother he was able to develop this and is able to read someone’s current thoughts by letting his hand/s hover around 5 inches away or closer from its subject and draw out their psionic energy. psychic shield  — due to the boy’s subconscious desires to be guarded and closed off from most, if not all people, his psionic energy was able to cocoon his mental self and become resistant to mental intrusion. psi-phoning (LOCKED)  — the boy is able to draw out psionic energy from his subject (as long as it is capable of thinking) and use it for his own. psi-crippling (LOCKED)  — by manipulating his subject’s psyche sungjin is able to elicit fear or emotional pain in form of nightmarish like hallucinations that could stun or cripple an enemy. these hallucinations appear as the subjects fears, regrets, or general disturbances, however the nature of it is not up to the boy. just like the subject sungjin can see and feel what they feel which can render him stunned and disturbed as well.

WEAKNESSES

sungjin’s powers greatly depends on his mental strength and mental state as well. if he pushes himself over the edge it could cause him physical and mental backlash (e.g. being knock back in result of impact, nose bleeds, headaches, and fainting). if the boy mental state isn’t in good condition he could easily lose control over it and not just harm himself but those around him as well.

the gifted boy’s hands play a huge role in directing the flow of psionic energy. if his hands were bounded or restrained in a way that prohibits him from moving them at all, renders the boy useless and unable to use his powers.

there are no distinguishable limits for time, weight, and intensity as it purely depends on how the variables act upon one another.  sungjin can hold a full glass of water with ease for a long period of time as long as he focuses, however trying to lifting a car for a mere few seconds can definitely make him crack from strain.

sungjin can direct psionic energy as long as it is in his clear line of sight. sungjin needs to focus and know where he plans on directing his powers. his offensive attacks however are more potent the closer the opponent is. around the 500 ft mark, his attacks could still pack quite a punch but more than that it would noticeably be weaker. the farther the attack travels the lower the damage.

psionic energy barriers can only take as much damage as sungjin’s mental strength can bear. pushing himself over the these limits can give him specific backlash and render him unconscious.

smaller barriers can take considerable more damage than larger barriers.

currently he can only psi-read a subject by letting his hands hover over their head at a maximum distance of 5 inches or closer. any farther than that and their current thoughts will be unaudible.

the boy cannot read more than one subject at a time. even if he tried it would be useless as thoughts overlap and are even more difficult to understand as it is.

sungjin’s not completely immune to intrusion of the mind, the intruder will just need to exert more effort than normal for them to reach into the boy.

siphoning psionic energy from another subject can be quite dangerous as sungjin can take every last bit of psionic energy from them and leave none left for them rendering them in an unconscious state or worse in a coma. also another thing to note is how sungjin can only hold on to a different source psychic energy for a few seconds. doing so over the limit can result in an explosive blacklash of psionic energy.

when psi-crippling, sungjin has no control of what the subject sees. he can only trigger them but the nature of these hallucinations are decided by the subject (their fears, regrets, general disturbances etc.)

though he can choose whether or not to see what the subject sees. he cannot avoid to feel what they feel. great mental strength is needed as he can easily fall into shock if he isn’t strong enough.

ORIGINS

trigger warning for suicide, death, torture, and child abuse.

tw: abuse, hints of bullying, kidnap, assault, suicide

on the first page of a black, well-loved journal:

“to minnie”

“if found, please immediately return to ahn sungjin”

(the boy often writes on his journal and below are some of the important excerpts that serve as a window into the boy’s life)

mirror;

remember the monsters you were scared of minnie? the monsters you swore that lived inside our closet?

well, my eyes caught a glimpse of its very own reflection, today.

a monster who was coloured in hues of blues and purples, a monster who screeched in a deafening cry for help yet no sound was heard, a monster who was starting to fall apart in its seams beyond tired to try and put itself back together.

i wish you were here minnie. who’s going to stop the punches dad throws? who’s going to tend to the cuts and bruises? who was going to put hyung back together now?

i’m scared minnie.

i’m scared because the more i look in the mirror, the more i tell myself, the more i ask myself –

i’m not me, who are you?

hellevator;

have you been able to see mom minnie? is she proud of me, just as much as you were?

i guess not, especially if she saw you. knowing what i’ve done.

i wish i could be with you guys instead, it would probably be much better there with both of you than here. at least there, maybe i’d be met with laughter, hugs, and kisses – here it’s all just been curses, punches, and aches.

i don’t blame dad though, i deserve it. i deserve it all, all the stabbing words, all the fists thrown, all the pain that fills me up.

now that you’re not here.

there’s nothing for me, nobody really cares about me.

maze of memories;

i dreamt of you again, no, not a dream, it wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare – a nightmare of that night.

it was so vivid, as if i was there, reliving it again.

the tight rope wrapped on chairs that bounded our hands. the darkness that was brought by the blindfolds around our heads. the writhing pain all over our bodies as they beat us to a pulp.

but you know what felt the most real? when i felt you take a huge blow to the head then nothing, emptiness. i couldn’t feel you anymore, i couldn’t hear you anymore in my head.

i wake up after seeing bright red and i just hug myself, crying.

what kind of brother am i? why couldn’t i protect you?  how could i do this to you?

The inside of my mind burns and fills up with question marks that blame me.

m.i.a;

i miss you minnie. i miss you so much.

dad misses you too.

he thinks of you fondly, loudly even. he tells me you were smart, you were good-looking, you were his true heir – you were just great in everything you did minnie. he tells me that he loved you so much, tells me that you were his favorite, tells me that it should’ve been me on the hospital bed instead.

i couldn’t agree more minnie, i’m sorry for what happened, i should’ve protected you. it was my fault, it should’ve been the bad seed, it should have been the disappointment, it should’ve been me instead.

ah i’m crying again, but really when have i not?

i miss the little squeak in your voice when you get excited, i miss your hugs that keep me warm when i couldn’t sleep, i miss you telling me:

“take it easy and try not to think of the useless stuff.”

insomnia;

i can’t seem to fall asleep, no matter how hard i try. this will be one of those nights where i sneak into your bed minnie. you’d open your arms immediately to hold me, without hesitation and any hint of anger for waking you up, then you’d sing me to sleep. those nights were just the best nights of sleep i ever could have.

funny how i’m 7 minutes older yet i am the baby between us haha should i start calling you hyung, minnie?

i’m trying to sing that song now as i hug myself to sleep tonight but it’s not the same.

when the dark night makes everyone sleep, when they fall asleep i can’t sleep because of so many thoughts.

voices;

minnie i’m starting to believe them.

what have i done?

i should just end it all, give in, just as they say i should.

i’m starting to believe that i really did that to you. that i’m a bad twin, that i’m a murderer, that i’m a monster. i’m starting to believe everyone around me. there’s so many voices, i promise i’ve been trying to shut them out. tonight, however, it’s not working.

i can’t hear your voice anymore minnie, your voice that tells me to ignore the others inside my head. these voices, they’re just so many…

at some point, i only started to hear these nagging sounds.

my side;

it’s been a few years since that night, it’s been a few years since you’ve left me alone.

i hope you can feel me right now, my hand holding yours tight. i feel you minnie, i feel you there. i just wish i knew what to do so i can wake you up from this deep, deep slumber.

you know a strange person came up to me the other day. told me there’s a place for people like me. told me i could hone my powers there. i’ve been thinking about it nonstop. maybe there i can find a way to wake you up. maybe there i can find a way for you to come back.

a part of me wants to go, but a part of me wants to stay here holding your hand.

no matter what my decision may be, please bare this in mind minnie,

even if i’m not there, i’ll stay by your side

4419;

minnie, i’m at the back of the bus we always ride to get home. we had so much memories on this bus, didn’t we? can you believe that after all this time, our names that we wrote with that cheap marker is still here crystal clear?

oh, you’re probably wondering where i’m off to huh?

remember that place? the place for people like me? i’m on my way there now to get settled. i just hope everyone’s nice. you’ve always been the better one when it comes to people.

i’ve never seen dad so happy minnie, that was a first ever since… ugh i shouldn’t be thinking about that…

anyway, dad was so happy minnie ‘cause finally he got rid of me. about time, he said. don’t worry minnie, i’m not sad. just like you said “take it easy and try not to think of the useless stuff”.

so i am. i will be better, i promise to do my best for you minnie. i promise with my whole heart, i will find a way to get you back.

someday, again at the same place, i dream we will meet again.

[flordemens]

Ephemeral Iridescence

Pairing: Wonho x OC

Characters: Wonho, OC, Monsta X, BTS

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Romance

Haru watched as the vibrant color swirled around her hands, glowing red for the anger she felt. Seeing all the colors of the damn rainbow was horribly useless. She already knew what mood she was in, Haru didn't need the stupid colors to show her.

What was the damn point of all of this?

Day in and day out she wished for something to change, longed for the colors to disappear. But what happens when Haru can suddenly see someone else's colors?

Well, isn't life just one cruel motherf*cker

Haru had always been able to see the colors swirling around her fingers, ever since she was five.

At first, she thought they were beautiful and amusing, like little silk ribbons. Haru enjoyed watching the beautiful colors flow and dance before her eyes.

“Haru baby, why do you keep looking down at your hands?” Her father asked her at the age of eight. “The colors around my hands are a pretty light blue papa,” Haru smiled and looked up, raising her hands so her father could see for himself. “There’s nothing on or around your hands, Haru. What are you talking about?” He asked, confusion scrunching up his features. Haru retracted her hands to her lap, staring at how the color slowly changed from the light blue to a muddy orange. “The colors. You can see them, can’t you? See, right now it’s orange!” Haru said excitedly again as she stretched her hands straight up in the air above her head. “Haru, there’s nothing there…”

After insisting that she indeed had colors floating around both of her hands, her parents decided to take her to a psychiatrist. There had to be some logical reasoning as to why she was seeing these things.

Just as she had explained to her parents various times, she explained the colors to the psychiatrist, but this time with much less enthusiasm. Haru knew the reaction she would get.

Soon after the visit, Haru was told by her parents that she needed to take medicine to make the colors go away; because as they had worded it, ‘it wasn’t normal.’

But the medicine did nothing for her. After taking it for half a year, she could still see the colors just as clearly.

The kids at school would tease her for taking her medicine. They told her she was all sorts of crazy and that no one should go near her because they would catch whatever she had.

Soon enough, she grew to dislike the fact that she could see her colors. If she was the only one who could see them, what was the point? It was wasted beauty.

As she got older, the emotions flooding her system wreaked havoc before her eyes.

Sparks of a variety of reds would shoot up into her field of vision when she would get angry and light swirls of feathery yellow would cover her hands when she was happy. When she was sad, a deep blue would stagnate at her fingertips, looking almost as invisible as she felt.

She dealt with how she felt by herself for the longest time. She pretended to take her meds to make her parents happy and she never mentioned the colors to anyone unnecessarily.

Then one fine high school spring day in her first year, she met them.

Life was infinitely better from then on, bright yellow flowing out from her hands more often than she had ever seen in her whole life.

Now, Haru was in her second year at Korea National University of Arts, majoring in fine arts.

Haru loved every minute of being able to photograph beautiful scenery, but her favorite was taking photographs of people. There wasn't anything more satisfying to her than capturing a human’s natural beauty through her lens, and them feeling equally as confident about themselves after. It made the yellow swirls extend all the way to her elbows when people got a confidence boost from her work.

But today was a Wednesday, and Haru absolutely hated Wednesdays.

Wednesdays meant she had pure general education courses, meaning she would be bored out of her mind all day.

Since second semester of last year, Haru planned for Wednesdays to be the main day to get her gen eds out of the way so she could enjoy her major classes in peace.

As Haru got up from her bed, she looked at her left hand pressing down on the mattress, a mist of gray floating over her hand. She sighed and grabbed her phone to check the time, only to see a message from her mom asking if she’d taken her pills yet. She typed out a quick yes, a little white lie she told her mother every day. Haru lived alone in a one bedroom apartment with her cat Butter, what her mom didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

She glanced at her hands again, the gray starting to turn into a hot pink as she spotted Butter at the end of her bed. She loved her lazy orange cat to pieces, but the colors that emitted from her hands whenever she saw or hugged him were blinding.

The colors were all too much for her these days. Sometimes she was so happy that the brightness of all the yellows would give her a headache, other days she was too calm and the blue would drive her up a wall. Frankly, Haru was sick of seeing these colors day in and day out. Sick and tired of the same shit every day.

Haru was really trying not to be bitter about it all. She had people who loved her for who she was now, what more could she ask for? But love couldn’t take away the constant emptiness she felt at the pit of her stomach.

Haru decided to take a seat at the back of her English class as usual, far away from human interaction. Unlike with Butter, where she would gladly suffer through her blinding colors; Haru did not feel that humans were worth the effort. If they weren’t her muse for her photos, she preferred the least amount of human interaction as possible.

Also, she hated these classes and it definitely showed on her face. Resting bitch face usually kept them away, so it all usually worked out in her favor.

As if on cue, the color around Haru's hands swirl into a hue of amber. Amber for her meant calm, but unsettled or nervous. And indeed, she was slowly becoming more and more unsettled as she watched the class room fill up with people she didn’t know.

Suddenly, a tall model like guy sat right next to her and oh god does she want to move, but Haru doesn't want to be rude and just get up and change seats right in front of him. She stared straight at her hands as the amber glowed more vivid now, going past her wrists. It wouldn't be that much of a problem if he hadn't brought his little posse of friends along.

Haru watched as model guy and the rest of his friends joked around, but quickly noticed something off about one of them.

She squinted and rubbed her eyes with her palms once, and then twice, because what she was seeing couldn't be possible.

Model guys friend had his hands supporting himself as he leaned back against the table, his hands emitting a mist of gold. Haru had never seen such a bright, almost glittery gold in her whole life. Hell, she had never been able to see anyone else’s colors except her own, so what the fuck was happening right now? Was she truly crazy and hallucinating it all?!

"His hands are radiating gold, and I can fucking see it. I have got to be going insane," Haru mumbled to herself, a hand against her mouth to hide her blatant astonishment at the sight happening before her.

Haru decided to get herself together and stop staring so openly at glittery gold guy. She decided to put her head down on her arms and mind her own business until English class started, because thinking of the latter would just drive her more insane at this point.

"Hyungwon can get a modeling contract so easily, but can't even talk to any of the girls he models with other than 'Hi, let's work hard today' or my absolute favorite, 'Thank you for your hard work.’ Our Hyungwonnie really is hopeless."

What a way to roast a guy so openly, Haru thought as she tried to keep herself from eavesdropping.

"Hey! Leave him alone Minhyuk. At the very least he can speak respectfully to them, that’s something."

"Shut up Wonho. Like you're one to talk, you’re the ladies man of the group. You should give Hyungwon some tips."

They started to laugh and Haru turned her head to the side from all the noise, instantly locking eyes with glittery gold guy as he was still laughing. He was actually quite attractive, she thought in retrospect.

As their staring contest continued, one of glittery gold guys friends abruptly interrupted.

"Hey Wonho," the guy said, waving his hand annoyingly fast in front of Won...ho was it? "Earth to WONHO!" His friend continued as he smacked the table, effectively bringing Wonho back to reality. "What were you staring at?" The persistent one asked as they all began to turn their heads, signaling for Haru to quickly turn away in the other direction.

"N-Nothing. I gotta go to my class though, I'll talk to you guys later," Wonho said as he noisily got up from his seat on the table.

When Haru opened her eyes again, the color around her hands were pitch black.

How did she go from wanting her own colors to disappear, to seeing someone else’s? It’s too cruel to be true. In fact, she was convinced it wasn’t. It was her mind playing tricks on her, a fluke. That’s what she was going to believe.

The only thing she was certain of was that this school year was off to a damn strange start.

If you would like to read more chapters, I have them all posted here!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10743249/chapters/23814861

[unplacedpodcast]

Episode Four: Charade (Script)

Episode four script behind the cut! Spoilers, etc. 

NARRATOR: Who knew monsters were real? Not metaphorical monsters that represent the greed inside of all of us, or "man humans can be really cruel assholes" monsters, but brain-sucking leech-blob-parasite things that have apparently been living off of us this whole time?

I should probably rewind a bit, since I cut that last clip short. I accidentally hit the “stop recording” button somewhere in my mad dash to get the unholy hell out of that subway car. Obviously, since I’m here recording, I got out okay. But it was way too close for comfort - that thing hit the window as the door closed and it stuck there for a few minutes, before it went back to being globbed around the man's head.

I stood in the station and watched the subway pull away, with the giant leech-thing still sitting on that guy's shoulders, buried in his head and...pulsing. 

(Narrator audibly shudders)

You know those sucker fish that you buy to keep an aquarium clean? How once they're stuck on the wall, their whole body shakes a little? It was like that. I've never seen anything so revolting in my life. And this guy is just sitting on the subway, staring off into the middle distance, like nothing is wrong.

I don't know any more. I honestly don't. At this point I don’t know if I'm stuck in a padded room somewhere and this is all a vivid daydream, or if I'm not stuck in a padded room and I'm wandering around the streets hallucinating, or what. I mean, this could all be real, but the other two options are probably more plausible, right?

I need to…I need something to do. I need a plan, or I really am going to go off my rocker, on the off chance I’m not already.

Let’s talk through this: I’m invisible. There’s invisible monsters - or at least one monster - that was feeding off of an innocent, oblivious bystander.

So far, no matter what I do, nobody can see or hear me, and everyone I know seems to have totally forgotten about me. My resources are…myself, the internet, and anything I can access in person, assuming I don’t need the help of someone else to get it. So, you know, the library. Or possibly, top-secret government facilities. (snort) There’s an idea.

Given those parameters, what steps can I take to gather more data about what the hell is going on? What questions do I have and how can I answer them?

(Narrator pauses for a beat)

My invisibility (and the side effects of it) seem to be a mystery that I can’t solve right now. I’ve tested the limits in multiple environments and tried everything I can think of it get someone’s attention, and so far, nada. Same results everywhere. Continuing to pursue that line of questioning doesn’t make any sense.

That leaves us with the monsters. Or monster. That, I don’t know anything about. Except that it could see me. Because of course, being stuck in what is effectively solitary confinement with some brain-leeches was definitely on my vision board.

The first question is…is there more than one? I’ve been assuming there is - but I haven’t seen another one, yet. That means the first thing to do is see if there are other monsters or if that one is the only one.

I’m a brain-eating monster, where do I hang out? On somebody’s back, apparently. Can they move around on their own? Do they move around without a host?

Questions for another time. In the meantime…I think the best I can do is…go to where a bunch of people are? More people means more chances of finding an…infected person? A host? That makes sense, right? Let’s try that, then.

(sound of phone being fumbled and recording being turned off, then turned back on a second later in a place with a lot more background noise - can hear people in the background)

I’m back at the subway station. If this is where I saw the first one, maybe I’ll see another one here. In the meantime, I just have to…lie in wait, or whatever. Good thing I brought my Kindle. I’ll turn this off so you don’t have to listen to the ambient subway noises, since I don’t know how long this is going to take.

(ding of audio off then on again)

(whispering) Okay…I think I found one. This woman just got off the train and there’s one of the things on her. Wow, they are just really gross looking.

It’s like…it looks like…well, like I said, a giant brain leech. It’s stuck into the back of her head and seems to be…feeding off of it. (makes grossed out noises) It’s probably three feet long total? It goes all the way down her back…but it looks like it’s only connected at the head. It also doesn’t look like it has a very…solid body? That makes sense. The other one, when I tried to shake the guy, it sort of reared up at me before it attacked, like it was gelatinous or something. You know those monsters in Yoshi’s Island? The blue blobs? Like that.

Video game references aside, I’m following her from probably ten or fifteen feet behind her because I don’t want one of those things to come for me again. We’re heading out of the station…

(background noises change as she moves onto the street)

This lady walks so slow. It’s a real struggle to stay ten feet behind - oh, okay, she’s going into a building! I’ll just duck in behind her, into…oh, for crying out loud. It’s another psychic. Why did I have to get stuck with the new agey monster victim? I’ve never been to a psychic in my life and now it’s two times in a month. Ugh.

(background noise: doorbell tinkles as she steps into the shop. very muffled/quiet sounds of conversation)

I’m standing over in the corner - the woman is talking to the psychic. I’m assuming she’s the psychic anyways, she’s the only other person here.

Do I get closer and eavesdrop or try and give them their privacy? I guess I’m here to gather data, so I might as well go all the way.

(sounds of movement, then picks up on conversation)

WOMAN: I just feel so ungrounded lately, you know? I’m all spacey - I’ve been having these awful headaches, and I’m all lethargic…I know I’ve had that blocked heart chakra before and I don’t know if this is that, or something else.

PSYCHIC: (affecting thick stereotypical Eastern European accent) Ah, yes, I do remember that. Vy don’t ve go take a look, hmm? Let us see what the crystals say.

(sounds of movement - a heavy fabric curtain)

(NARRATOR snorts)

NARRATOR: What a load of crap. I can’t believe I’m wasting my time on this. They went into some back room - I’m not going to creep on that, that’s a little over the line, even for me. I guess since I’m here, I’ll take a look around. Maybe I can play solitaire with her cards until they’re done. Then I can keep shadowing this woman and see if I can get anything useful from this, or if it’s going to be all shiny crystals and chakras. I’ll let you know if anything happens.

(ding of the audio turning off, then back on again)

NARRATOR: Okay. They’re coming out from the back. The woman does look happier, but I mean, placebo effect, right? As far as I can tell, the leech wasn’t affected at all. Let’s get a little closer and see if I can learn anything from this misguided attempt at an adventure…

WOMAN: Ahh, I feel so much better! Thank you! You really are just the best at this.

PSYCHIC: Of course, dear, I’m glad I could help. I did notice you are ungrounded, like you said - would you like something to help with that, ven I am not around? I happen to have some lovely hematite necklaces…

NARRATOR: She’s even upselling this poor woman. What a - wait. The woman just put the necklace on and the leech - it’s recoiling from it. It looks like the necklace is burning it or something. Well, that’s something new. What do you know, I learned something useful today after all. This “psychic” might be a total hack, but I’m glad this wasn’t entirely a waste of my -

(sound of doorbell dinging as woman leaves)

NARRATOR: Oh shit, that was the woman leaving. I better get out after her so I can -

PSYCHIC: (still using fake accent) Hello? Is someone there?

NARRATOR: What? I think - I think she can hear me? Or tell that I’m here? She’s - she’s looking around…hello? Hey lady, can you hear me?

PSYCHIC: (dropping accent) Listen, whoever or whatever the hell you are, today is not the day and I am not the one. I’m tired. Get out of my shop before I make you. I might have crystals for the tourists, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know my shit.

NARRATOR: Uhh - huh. I didn’t see this one coming - I guess now the question is - do I stay here and try to reason with apparently-more-than-meets the eye psychic, or follow the lady and see if there are any other changes?

(something slams in the background)

NARRATOR: O-kay, the maybe-actually-a-psychic now looks pissed and is slamming things around looking for something, so I’m just gonna get the hell out of Dodge for now -

(doorbell jingling as she leaves)

NARRATOR: …and see if I can find that woman again. Except - aw, hell. The lunch rush started, and there are a lot more people on the streets now. She was wearing a pink scarf - she should be easy to find again…

(NARRATOR is walking quickly, starting to sound a little out of breath, background noise of crowd)

NARRATOR: I don’t see her anywhere. Dammit! The closest thing to a lead I had, and of course, this happens. I’ll keep looking and keep you posted.

ding of audio recording going off

[adrift-in-writing]

Little Death: Chapter 5 - Remember

Nightmarish hell.

Contains fluff and a large cup of angst.

This chapter was originally so long, I decided to split it into two different chapters. (This chapter alone is 4,610 words!)

______________________

Read on AO3

Miss a part? Click to be redirected.

Part 1 - Alone | Part 2 - Together | Part 3 - Safe | Part 4 - Belong

Her eyes opened up as water gradually dripped down from her face all the way to her sharp chin. She was tired, though she had just woken up. It was Christmas Day after all, but despite the peaceful festivities, Amélie couldn’t help but feel that something was clawing in the back of her head today. It felt as if she missed something, but it was unclear.

She had been washing her face (for the morning came, albeit far too quick) and snow had come down hard on the streets. Both London and Paris experienced fairly moderate amounts of snow drifting down towards the ground, so it was, indeed, a very white Christmas.

Lena casually popped into the bathroom and had wrapped her arms just behind Amélie. The girl poked her head over to face the mirror with a small grin. “G’mornin’! Merry Christmas, luv!” Her high-pitched Cockney accent had uttered.

The woman chuckled slightly, giving a small smile of her own. Her hands found their way to meet up with Lena’s own, and with a gentle squeeze, she shuffled her body around. “Salut, mon amour (Hello, my love). Merry Christmas to you, too. Tell me,” Amélie lifted up Lena’s chin and tilted her head to the side. “When is my present coming?”

Nervously, the smaller Brit laughed a bit. “Um...tonight. Yeah, tonight! It’s-it’s gonna be real fun when ya get it, I promise!” Her nervous laughter became a bit more apparent, then she rubbed her neck, hoping to ease the tension. “I just gotta...prepare...” She muttered the last sentence, and a hint of a blush came.

“It’ll be special! Just for you.” Lena exclaimed and snuggled up onto the woman’s arm. 

“Take your time then,” She began, “I patiently await what you’ve in store.” Her smile had appeared once more in the process. Everything seemed to be in order, so Amélie had finished up drying her face with a towel with one hand. For a moment, the woman took some time to stare at herself in the mirror. It was like seeing the reflection of somebody’s nightmare, but over the years she had thought she’d grown used to it by now.

“Lena,” She glanced downwards, as the girl peeked over and hummed in response. “Do you think Doctor Ziegler could truly fix me?”

Almost immediately, the adventurer nodded. “No question ‘bout it!”

Though reassuring, Amélie was still not convinced. She had given a small smile, but it rapidly faded away. “I don’t mind my skin color, nor how unnatural I look. I simply want to...not hurt anymore. Physically.”

Rubbing her chin, Lena recalled back to the time the both of them went in together to review all possible outcomes of this operation. Though her skin deficiency would take months to revert, everything else would seemingly be fixed. At least, that’s what Angela had told the both of them.

But there was of course the possibility of canceling it, or outright the operation doesn’t work. Optimistic as it were, even the doctor herself wasn’t quite sure if it was possible. She would have to spend quite some time working on every potential outcome and have several backup plans if the need arose.

Amélie felt a warm presence press their cheek onto her arm again. It tickled her, and it reassured her of so many things. “I’ll love you regardless, Amélie! Even if it doesn’t work out all that well.”

Chuckling, the woman gently pushed Lena away. “I’m going to go get something to eat. You...clean yourself up.” Just before she shifted her body around to face the doorway, the two girls parted with a quick and affirming kiss to each other on the cheek.

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While Lena proceeded to do her own hygienic needs, the cold woman proceeded to the kitchen, where she had found Emily already up and munching away at the salad from last night. Strange, considering a salad wasn’t usually a proper thing to eat. However, she had no right to disagree on whether or not anything a friend was eating was wrong.

What piqued her interest more was the empty canvas hovering over the freckled girl. Surely by now she could have at least doodled, at the very least? There wasn’t even a hint of any pencil markings or scraps of paper anywhere to be found. Whatever the case, the woman did not mind. She was starving, and she wanted to go eat a few slices of bread with Nutella, and perhaps butter it up instead.

Coupled with some herbal tea, Amélie decided she would have a light breakfast in comparison to what she’d usually favor. She took a seat right next to Emily, and quietly observed her eat, and focus on nothing but eating. It seemed to her that the redheaded Brit was a little bit lost on what to create, so much that she didn’t even say hello or acknowledge the woman’s presence.

Gently, Amélie prodded Emily on her exposed shoulder. Just from her icy touch alone, Emily flinched and almost flung her fork across the room. “Oh, God! Don’t scare me like that!”

Smirking, the woman chuckled some. “I see you’re quite busy.”

In response, Emily pouted and mildly picked up some bits of lettuce to chew on. “Not like this, mate. At this rate I’m getting nowhere.”

“I am quite sure you’ll figure it out, Emily. After all...you are talented, oui (yes)?” Amélie replied, as she proceeded to take a bite out of her buttered bread.

Out in the corner of her eye, she saw plenty of reference photos minimized down. Sneakily, she pulled one photo over and expanded it. It was rather beautiful, just a reference photo of a cityscape from last night. Even if it were artificial, she would’ve loved to see this hand-drawn in some way.

She hummed, placing the photo back where it belonged. The other reference photos seemed irrelevant, or simply, Amélie had no idea what they were for. Interestingly enough, there were some sample photos of the woman herself, presumably taken from Lena’s phone. That little young Brit always had a knack for taking sneaky selfies of Amélie, after all.

“En veux-tu plus (Do you want more?)” A familiar voice had called out, echoing throughout the room. The accent was French, but it sounded much like her own, albeit...younger. Amélie froze up and gulped down her bread, turning to Emily, who had been packing up her canvas and pencil.

“...What?” The cold woman murmured, “Did you...did you say something?”

The redheaded girl diverted her attention back to Amélie with a confused look. She was just about ready to get up and put her plate into the sink. “I didn’t say anything. You alright?”

How odd. Amélie softly bit her lower lip, wondering what on Earth that even was. She simply nodded her head to reaffirm Emily, and the freckled girl went about her own business. Maybe she forgot to drink her medicine? No...hallucinations or even any remote disembodied voices didn’t just magically show up without her taking medicine. Even before, she was fine without it.

But then she had to look up from her plate, and the woman almost fell out of her own chair; her late husband was sitting just across the table, smiling as he was eating on an invisible plate. He had a bit of a curious look in his eyes, but they were not aimed directly at Amélie in her chair. How was this even possible?

Distorted French emitted out of his mouth. It was hard to decipher, and even more so for Amélie to remember. Where was she in this? She had no recollection of this memory, or at least, not from what her disoriented and scattered memories suggested.

An apparition appeared just as Gérard turned his head upwards. It was...Amélie, but not the current one. It was a phantom that looked exactly like her just a little over eight years ago, when she was around Lena’s age. There was a certain seductiveness in her that she never expressed, even in private to her own husband. Gérard’s curious eyes shifted to a more surprised set, but it gradually eased into one of desire.

No. This was certainly not her, definitely if it’s what she thought this was. The woman started losing her appetite and her heart - despite being so slow already - had somehow managed to skip a beat. A memory was trying to recall itself, but this one in particular was vivid. Even before, the most vivid memory was simply a fragment; maybe a voice or a sliver of her daily life, but this? This was more of a complete memory, reliving an echo of times long passed. Their voices - or whatever they were speaking to each other about that night - echoed throughout the loft. Only Amélie could hear them as Emily disappeared back into her guest room for a bit, mostly to retrieve something. Lena wasn’t out yet, and Winston had been out cold from the eggnog from their little late night festivities last night.

“...think I like this side of you.” A thick French accent had said. It belonged to Gérard’s, that much Amélie could still remember back then. The apparition’s appearances became more visually crisp, and Gérard had his silly little mustache that he insisted he kept. As ridiculous as it was, he promised Amélie he’d let it grow into a beard or keep it clean-cut if she desired, but only after his duties were fulfilled and he was allowed to leave properly. People always said he reminded them of Gomez from the Addams Family, and he had planned to change that.

His hands searched the younger Amélie’s body, rubbing her sides up and down. “Oh? Perhaps you would like to show me how much this side of me excites you, then?” Past-Amélie’s voice rang out. A soft, and alluring chuckle followed just before she kissed him, and rather passionately so. Whatever this sight was, it wasn’t pleasant for present-day Amélie to witness anymore.

Present-time Amélie clutched her armrests. She moved forward, almost as if to yell at the both of them, but she’d know she’d look insane if she did that. Even in a room full of emptiness, somebody in this household would definitely come check up on her. So, Amélie opted to remain silent.

The apparitions parted, and Past-Amélie raised her eyebrow, impishly smirking. “En veux-tu plus (Do you want more?)” 

Her question repeated once more. He laughed in response, and nodded.

“Ouh...do I want more...? Oui...beaucoup plus (Yes...much more).” 

He began lifting up the past-Frenchwoman’s shirt, revealing only a bra. There wasn’t even a hint of hesitation to his actions, or even a remote sense that something was off. It hurt her, seeing her husband this way.

“Take me, then.” Her past-self had asserted, as she once again began passionately kissing her so-called ‘beloved’ husband. Her arms reached down so she could successfully lift up his work-shirt with one hand, while the other worked on unbuttoning his pants. Amélie could not bear to witness this spectacle anymore.

Before long, slight moaning from both parties were heard, and it caused the woman to further avoid this mess. There was a hint of laughter, just before the younger woman whispered into Gérard’s ear.

“Je vous ferai sentir en vie (I’ll make you feel alive).” 

Present-Amélie turned away in shame. There was no more denying this. No, it was not a suppressed memory, but a forgotten one. She had remembered this horrible, horrible night. This had been the worst possible way to relive it all. It wasn’t even trying to be delicate. It was not even a hallucination, but a really screwed up memory. She remembered this was the night she lost him, and in more ways than one.

This was the night he chose somebody else.

Gérard had chosen her...Widowmaker. Not Amélie. Not the love of his life whom he cherished dearly, and fought so hard to protect; Not the one who he called ‘best friend’ all of his life. Not one who promised he’d never take advantage of, and only accepted it if he knew she wanted it. It was not Amélie, but an elaborate disguise crafted by Talon. A parting gift, as it were, hand-wrapped by Widowmaker herself to prove a statement. It was a cruel joke, saying that things were no longer in her control. Her husband had chosen the devil thinking Amélie was truly wanting him in that way that night.

 It was to ensure she lived in Hell for the rest of her life, knowing somebody she trusted everything with had given it all away. And for what? A night of mindless sex and revelry?

Lies. All of it was just fucking lies. She had thought her husband loved her, but it was not the case. It was a farce. Agonizing as it was, she understood now that it was just a cruel lie to cover up the bitter truth. Her heart ached in an invisible pain, realizing this was something she fell into.

The worst part was not remembering it, oh no. It was accepting the fact that she let it happen, because she and Widowmaker were one and the same...at least, in her eyes. She was no different from a cold-blooded and emotionally stripped assassin. It pained her so much, yet she could not cry. She couldn’t feel anything from being so numbed over the years.

But someone out there in the organization wanted her to forget. Whether it be that they knew, or simply, they didn’t want her to suffer anymore. After years and years of all of this agonizing pain, she had no more tears left to give. She had no more anger to fuel the fire.

There was just emptiness inside of her. It hurt to know that she couldn’t feel anything about it anymore. It made her feel less humane.

Her chair had creaked as Amélie scooted back, gradually registering all this information. She didn’t want to know why today of all days was to be the revelation she didn’t need, nor desire to see. All she knew was that even to this day, no matter how hard things were, it was just nothing but a lie. 

Their moaning became a lot more audible, and a mixed set of feelings conflicted within Amélie. She dared not look up again in fear that it’d paint a scarring picture, but at the same time she just had to know.

And what about those two nights ago? She faced a nightmare of Lena’s death, and the following night she believed she could have a family again. Was that a lie, too? Was Lena going to die one day? Would she be alone, left to slumber eternally while a remorseless killer controlled her very essence? That was going too deep into the worst case scenarios of this world, she thought. Amélie shook herself out of it, but...there was an even harder thought lingering in her head now.

If Gérard had fallen in love with somebody who he knew was not her, could Lena have done the same? Could she have loved somebody who intended to kill her the very moment she let her guard down, rather than love the real woman inside?

The thought roamed around in her head for a moment, preying upon her own self-confidence. There was no way Lena could betray her like that, and she was convinced it was so. But even then...she couldn’t help but have doubt. Was this life, too, just another lie she’d have to live? If it were, then nothing in the world would ever make sense anymore. Amélie lingered on it, and she wished she didn’t, as she felt her heart sink even lower now.

“Amélie?”

Her Cockney accent had startled the woman. She glanced up from her plate again as the apparitions faded away into the shadows, leaving absolutely no trace behind. Lena had loomed over her with a concerned expression, leaning in a little bit closer. “Everything alright? Ya look like ya just saw a ghost...or, or somethin’!”

She swallowed hard. She didn’t want to explain to her all this in the morning, not now. The woman bit her lower lip again, but passed off a fake smile. “I’m okay,” she had replied, almost choking back any semblance of the guilt of lying. “Just a bad thought.”

Amélie stood up and picked up her plate with half-eaten bread and her herbal tea still filled to the brim. “Turns out I’m not as hungry as I think I am.”

Rather than throw away perfectly good food, the woman placed it on a warming plate and took a sip of her tea before setting that on the hot plate too. It tasted a little less filling, now that she thought about it. Lena clasped her hands together and grinned.

“Emmy’s waitin’ downstairs in the piano room for you to play some songs. Have you got any thought into ‘em yet?”

Piano. Right, she had promised them since the third day she’d been meaning to play this. A list of perfectly good songs on the piano came into mind, though she at the time didn’t want to feel sad. But what better a way to express her emptiness now than to explain it in auditory form? It’s not like anybody would know...yet.

But even then, those apparitions were lingering faintly in her brain. She couldn’t keep this up if they returned in the middle of her session.

Normally a person would’ve simply turned away, but it was not something Amélie could reject again and again. Her attention turned back to Lena, and her head cocked to the side. “Are you coming?” To which the Brit nodded once. 

“Soon as I get breakfast! Y’know I can hear ya even from ‘ere, right?”

Undoubtedly, she could. With nothing left to say, Amélie turned her body so she was now heading downstairs, and Emily was indeed waiting with her posture curled up on the couch. 

____________________________

With a pencil in her hand, plenty of references opened up - but not obscuring the piano - and her easel, perhaps this might be where she could gain inspiration. There was, however, something that caught Amélie’s eye.

A box of chocolates sat neatly just right next to the freckled girl. It had been unwrapped, but there was a tag she couldn’t read. It was probably for Lena, or somebody else.

She was wrong about that. Emily looked up from her little doodle, smiled some, and picked up the box. Extending her arm outwards, she presented it to the woman with much pleasure in her eyes. “Thought you might’ve liked this.”

Upon further examination, it was in fact a gift from Emily to Amélie. It was a box of Belgian chocolates, considering the fact Belgium made exceptionally good chocolate for what it was worth. For a moment, Amélie had no idea how to respond other than nod.

“I feel kind of bad nobody gave you anything so...I just ran to the nearby chocolatier and asked if they had a box of these. Wasn’t too expensive, but it was still a modest price.”

Humming, Amélie gently pushed back the box. “Put it in my room. I will collect it later. Now,” She presented the piano with one hand, “Shall we?”

Nodding, Emily had encouraged her to go on. For a moment, Amélie had a warm smile as she sat down comfortably on the piano seat. Her cold hands brushed off a thin layer of dust that had settled on top of the piano coverings, and she lifted up the fall board, and a holo-display prompt opened up.

From a wide selection of classical songs to piano covers of olden day popular music, it had all types of potential greatness hidden inside. Amélie had searched the catalogue momentarily, eventually choosing Lights & Motion’s ‘Aural’ to start off, just as a warm-up.

There, she tickled the ivories ever so delicately. Upon playing the first notes, a sense of pride enveloped the cold woman. For her, it was simply beautiful to hear a piano being played. Of the two people in the room, it seemed Emily was more encapsulated already. Though the song was slow, there was an ethereal aura to it, and it appeared that Amélie had been radiating a hidden glow.

The last time Amélie touched a piano was somewhere during a rehabilitation room in Gibraltar. Though reluctant - mainly on the part that Widowmaker’s countermeasures were to stop her at any cost - she fought and trudged through with newfound willpower. Alas, she had let her guard down, and collapsed after a few simple notes.

This time however, things would be much more different. She enjoyed reliving some nostalgia in her life, clinking away at the keynotes. There was a feeling of enjoyment to be had, as simple of a piano piece as it was. For a brief moment, Amélie felt a sense of freedom to be had, completely ignoring all the painful memories from earlier.

As the song concluded, Emily’s jaw slacked. “Wow. That was uh...” Emily was speechless. Maybe it was from the moment itself, but something truly, truly inspired her already.

“Practice. I am not as good as I used to be.”

“You call that practice? Jeez!”

“Oui (Yes). Just a simple warm-up for my fingers.”

The woman spoke calmly, but her overall tone and pitch was warm and welcoming. She curled and uncurled her fingers, exhaling before smiling at Emily.

“I can sing as well if you would like.”

Was there no end to how talented Amélie was? Truly, she was something else. Emily gulped, a little unsure of what she wanted. Could she really sing? With a silky smooth voice as hers and given the fact she might’ve started remembering more and more of her memories, maybe.  With a reluctant nod from Emily, Amélie chuckled and thought up of a perfect song.

Her hands ran over the piano’s keynotes from left to right, just before Amélie heard footsteps go downstairs. Lena had entered into the room with a half-empty plate of her standard breakfast consisting of proteins. From eggs, slices of cured ham, beans, buttered toast, and all the like, Lena was getting all the stuff she needed. She acknowledged them simply by humming what seemed like a ‘Hello’, but it was muffled by chewing, and occasional clinking of the fork on her plate.

Regardless, Amélie began playing some notes on the beginning of a song, trying to see if her memory could jog itself well enough to remember. Alas, it was not the case. If this were her years ago she could’ve remembered this song with ease. With the help of the holo-display, she had searched up proper notes and the lyrics to her song.

Swiftly studying the composition itself, Amélie replayed the notes to get a familiarity to it. Soon after, she began warming up her voice just a tad-bit. If anything, Amélie wasn’t that much of a professional singer. At best, she was a mezzo, according to some earlier times in her life where she tried to get confirmation about it with some of her musical friends. Awkward as it was, the woman’s pitch in terms of singing was vastly different in comparison to what she truly sounded like.

Her song of choice was London Grammar’s ‘Truth Is a Beautiful Thing’, and though she could not capture the original singer’s vocal range, the least Amélie could have done was play the piano correctly. Somber and ever mournful, the song itself expressed a deep connection to Amélie’s past and present, but to any typical person unaware of the woman’s ordeals...it was just a song.

Graceful was the way to describe how Amélie looked, and it was evident by Emily, and a bit of Lena (but mostly Emily), she was just lost in the beauty of it all. From their angle, Amélie’s fingers captured her emotions almost perfectly; they ran over the ivory notes with precision, and a calm, yet sorrowful force behind it all.

Once again, Emily had been blown away whilst Lena was more than proud to watch and eat her food. She had already heard Amélie play numerous times, but the novelty stuck with her through and through. In the moment, her head glanced over to the entranced freckled girl. Lena giggled, and gave a subtle hint of ‘I told you so!’ in her expressions.

As all this had unfolded, there was no doubt Emily had found that lost piece of inspiration she had been looking for; all she needed was just a little push. Blinking and stammering, Emily tried to remember where she was, and almost let her reference photos slip away from her station. She blushed, feeling more embarrassed to the point where she didn’t expect such a powerful song.

“O-oh...bloody hell...Um...” she stuttered, “L-Lena, you were right!” Her focus diverted itself to the girl. “She’s brilliant!”

Lena giggled again, chewing on her food and saying nothing else. Amélie clicked her tongue and smiled a warm smile. She had risen up from her piano seat for a brief moment to stretch. When she got there, her knees bent down while her head tilted ever so slightly to one side.

“What else is on your mind for your inspiration?”

Shaking her head, Emily insisted she didn’t need to hear anymore, lest she need to feel far beneath Amélie’s grandeur. Come to think of it, the session was only approximately seven or nine minutes already. Playing any composition is difficult as it was already, and to keep setting the bar higher and higher...might not be a good idea.

A few thuds came downstairs, and a furry - and groggy - gorilla made his way down to the room as well. He had seemed to be cleaning his glasses, but in general he looked as any simian would look from a decent night’s rest. Calmly, Winston had saluted all of them while all three girls in return casually waved.

“Good morning. Nobody told me you’d be playing music this early.”

Sitting down on the piano chair once more, Amélie played a few notes before shuffling her gaze over to Winston.

“One more song. What would you like?”

“Hm...” Winston had pondered for a moment, before raising his index finger. “Beethoven’s ‘Für Elise’?”

Now that was a hard one. Well, ‘hard’ was an understatement. Für Elise was not something one pianist - let alone Amélie -  could play without any practice. With a headshake, she nervously exhaled. “Ah, you think too much of my talents. Try something else.”

“Oh! Uh...sorry. Let’s see here...” Winston mumbled to himself.

He was pulling blanks at this point. He wasn’t fully awake just yet, so he had a fairly difficult time recalling most songs.

“Passenger’s ‘Let Her Go’!” Lena cried out, giggling again. “You can do it!”

Shifting her gaze towards Winston, Amélie gave a nod of questioning towards him, and he nodded back in return, casually taking a seat right in-between the two Brits on the floor.

Flipping the holographic display to the right song, the woman also noticed it was slightly difficult to actually play this song. Then again, she did play Debussy’s ‘Clair de Lune’ at one point in her life multiple times, but that was absolutely no comparison.

Her eyes searched over to the couch where all three of them were waiting on her. Lena had given her a thumbs-up for acknowledgement, and she turned back to the piano’s ivory keys. Hovering over them, she played exactly one note, nodding once again.

Maybe one more song. Only because Lena wanted it so.

[toaster-boss-blog]

YOI Daemon AU: Settle

Summary: “In all the rush of emotions and adrenaline Yuri Plisetsky hadn’t noticed something was amiss until the banquet. Yuuri Katsuki was sat in a corner, glass of champagne in one hand while the other was rubbing small, lazy circles on Victor’s thigh. Both of them had that stupidly infatuated look on their faces. Meanwhile, Yekaterina and Yasu were perched on the table in front of them, the huge snowy owl preening the gull’s smooth feathers with her beak. It was such an intimate scene, all played out in such a public place” Or the daemon AU that no one except for me wanted.

Pairing: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Yuri Plisetsky (one sided), Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky (also one sided for now) Rating: Very PG Warnings: None Other: List of daemons: Viktor: Snowy Owl Name: Yekaterina Diminutive: Katya, Katenka Yuuri: Black-Tailed Gull Name: Yasu Yurio: Azure-winged magpie (Before settling favoured great grey owl, turtle dove, Eurasian magpie and white stork) Name: Yelena Diminutive: Lena Otabek: Golden Eagle Name: Inkar Phichit: Red-breasted parakeet Name: Samitaa JJ: Great Blue Heron Name: Estelle Chris: Black woodpecker Name: Bellona Isabella: Gibbon Name: Primo 

AO3 Link

In all the rush of emotions and adrenaline Yuri Plisetsky hadn’t noticed something was amiss until the banquet. Yuuri Katsuki was sat in a corner, glass of champagne in one hand while the other was rubbing small, lazy circles on Victor’s thigh. Both of them had that stupidly infatuated look on their faces. Meanwhile, Yekaterina and Yasu were perched on the table in front of them, the huge snowy owl preening the gull’s smooth feathers with her beak. It was such an intimate scene, all played out in such a public place.

Though it could be worse, they could have been touching each other daemons. Yuri had seen it happen after their engagement had been announced. On the way back to the hotel the pair had broken off from the rest of the group. As soon as Yuri had noticed he had ran off after them, determined to be a thorn in their side, but when he had caught up to them he had stopped before they had noticed him. They had stood there, under the single warm light of a street lamp, the world outside that small circle of light hidden by darkness, as if the world outside the pair didn’t exist.

Yeketerina and Yasu had both been in the arms of their respective humans, but Yuuri’s fingers had been hidden deep in Katya’s plush plumage while Victor had been stroking Yasu’s glossy back. It was a level of intimacy so deep that it could only ever be referenced with a layer of metaphor hiding it and Yuri hadn’t even known it had existed until recently. Yuri had turned tail and ran, like the coward he was, pretending that what he had seen had been a vivid hallucination.

Yuri wished he was old enough to drink. Even though he had won, he had lost.

“That is not a happy face,” said a familiar voice behind him.

“What do the English say? Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” retorted Yuri, no real venom in his voice.

Otabek’s face remained stoic, but something shined in his eyes. On his shoulder Inkar inclined her head in greeting to Yelena, who was perched similarly on Yuri’s shoulder.

Yuri’s heart beat that bit faster and against his shoulder he felt Yelena’s tiny heart do the same. It was strange she hadn’t changed out of the form of a small azure-winged magpie, she usually took the form of a great grey owl when in the presence of Otabek and Inkar, to better match the huge golden eagle.

“My face is permanently like this, for better or worse,” said Otabek as he drew in close to Yuri, so only the two of them were able to hear the conversation. “You’re far more expressive than me, you also just beat a world record and won gold in your senior debut. Are you okay?”

The look on Otabek’s face was filled with so much genuine concern that Yuri felt his lip start to tremble. It was only for a brief second, but he knew Otabek had seen it when the older boy put a large, callused but gentle hand, on his elbow.

“I’ll be fine,” Yuri said at last, after a deep breath. “I’ve just accepted something that’s a little hard to get over, but I’ll be fine.”

Yuri glanced towards where Yuuri and Victor were all over each other, so fucking in love it made Yuri sick.

“Unrequited emotions can be hard to deal with, you’re strong for being able to stand here,” replied Otabek as he followed Yuri’s line of sight.

“Wait, how did you-”

“I’m not blind, Yuri. Anyone can see it.”

“He never did,” replied Yuri in a tone as defeated as he felt.

“I don’t know Yuuri Katsuki very well, or at all, but I know for a fact that a lot of people find it hard to know when someone likes them. They find it hard to understand how someone could feel for them like that, or they brush off the affection as merely politeness or friendship,” said Otabek in a tone that said he knew the feeling all too well. “It takes something as significant as a kiss on international television to finally make it clear. Or even just the courage for a confession.”

Yuri glared in the direction of the love birds. “You have a point. Well, I’m a few months too late for any confession now, I was beat to the punch. I’ve accepted that, I just need to get over it now. I know I will, it’ll just take time.”

Otabek’s lip twitched up in the smallest of smiles. “You’ve grown up, Yura. No one can call you a child anymore.”

“Lena needs to settle for that to happen first.”

Instead of Otabek replying Inkar started to laugh, long and low. It was the first sound that Yuri had heard her make, the daemon even more stoic than her human.  

“What’s so funny?” demanded Yuri as he grit his fists.

“Why don’t you ask Lena?” inquired Inkar, her voice just as deep as Yuri had expected from Otabek’s daemon.

“What are you- Wait, Lena, what is she talking about?”

“You haven’t noticed yet?” replied Lena. “I haven’t changed shape since your free skate.”

“So, what? What has tha- Oh…”

It was like Yuri was seeing Yelena for the first time, well, in a way he was. The Yelena perched on his shoulder was the real Yelena, the real Yuri, who they truly were.  Of all the animals she could have chosen, of all the shapes they could have been, she had settled with an azure-winged magpie. He didn’t want to think of the implications of it, how a single moment now defined him for the rest of his life.

A napkin materialised before his face. It took him a second to figure out why, there were tears streaming down his face. He snatched it from Otabek’s hand without a word and buried his face in the material, trying to supress the sobs welling up in his throat. The scene inevitably drew others and soon he was surrounded by Phichit, Chris, JJ and Isabella.

“Sobbing again? Bit overwhelmed are we, kitty?” asked JJ, aiming for concerned but landing closer to mocking. Yuri finally knew him well enough to be able to see that.

“He can cry as much as he wants, he won after all,” replied Phichit as he fetched some fresh napkins from a nearby table. “I wouldn’t have stopped sobbing from the podium till now.”

“Something tells me he isn’t crying over his win,” said Chris, as perceptive as ever.

A strong arm wrapped around Yuri’s shoulder, careful to keep far away from Yelena. “His daemon settled.”

Yuri leant into Otabek, silently thanking him for sparing Yuri the embarrassment of having to explain himself. Otabek was so warm against him, so solid and unmoving. It served to ground Yuri, to keep him from floating away.  

“Congratulations! You’re finally an adult!” shouted Phichit far too loudly, drawing the attention of other guests.  

“Well, that’s one hell of a way to settle,” said JJ, his wide eyes betraying that he was genuinely impressed.

“Definitely,” agreed Isabella. “Also a magpie is a fitting shape. You got something very shiny and gold today. Yuri is a greedy boy, determined to steal from others.”

Yuri could have slapped that woman, no matter how much her tearful support of JJ had softened Yuri to her, she was still an arrogant asshole. She and JJ were truly a match made in the deepest levels of hell.

“But that’s a regular Eurasian magpie, this type of magpie tells something very different,” explained Chris. “Azure-winged magpies are known for their generosity, known to give to others without expecting anything in return.”

Yuri mentally added Chris to his list of people to destroy, but said nothing. He had no idea what his voice would sound like if he spoke, how much it would crumble and break.

“Come on, let’s get some air,” said Otabek in his soft, deep voice.

Otabek led the unresisting Yuri from the crowd, making sure to take the route furthest away from the loved up couple, so lost in each other that they hadn’t noticed the commotion going on. In the distance Yuri could hear JJ.

“I don’t get it. That doesn’t make sense at all.”

By some small mercy no one bothered explaining.

[jennmoslek36]

     JUNE 19TH, 1954

  AFTER BEING DECLARED “incompetent” by a Jackson County court, a 15 year-old boy is transferred into the custody of the Florida State hospital; Within 48 hours of his arrival, he is pronounced dead. But Cause of death? Well that would depend on which page of the boy’s file that you’re looking at. Only one of many questionable things that could be found within the roughly 200 pages that I was handed back in August of 2018. By the time I read through the content, I would be so confused that I would have to go back & read through the pages two more times, spending considerable time on each individual page taking notes; So many things failed to make sense, reminding me just how evil what we were dealing with was.

      THOMAS HERBERT WIGGINS

BORN TO OLLIE & Jeffie Wiggins in March of 1937, Thomas Herbert Wiggins was the youngest of 2 boys. His life would begin in Opp, Alabama but the Wiggins family would eventually relocate to the Florida Panhandle to continue raising their boys. At 1st they would report only seeing subtle differences between their oldest & youngest sons. Where Thomas’s big brother was very social & outgoing, Thomas was extremely introverted, preferring to be by himself. He showed no interest in playing sports OR becoming involved in other activities, unlike his sibling who excelled in both sports & academics & was also popular amongst his peers. While this may have been reason to give pause for a moment Mr. & Mrs. Wiggins didn’t panic initially, however, by age 11, Thomas began showing signs of extreme paranoia. He started to fixate on his food being poisoned. His course of action would be to refuse food, often go days without eating.

    The Oshner Clinic ~ 1950

WHEN THOMAS’S “SPELLS” became violent, his parents would finally seek help for their son. He would 1st be evaluated at Oshner Clinic in New Orleans, Louisiana.

        WHILE HE WAS there, Dr. C. Harrison Snyder & staff would perform extensive testing before issuing their findings & recommendations to the Wiggins family. Dr. Snyder reported that ALL tests were normal, including his cognitive functioning & intelligence. He recommended that Thomas be kept at home & receive plenty of love & positive attention from his family as well as be returned to his previous school where he was thriving & happy. In a nutshell, Dr. Snyder stated that being loved & cared for by his family within the security of his home would be key to Thomas being successful in life.

        IN HIS FINAL statement, the doctor requested to be notified within a month’s time of Thomas’s progress. I can say with confidence that they didn’t follow up with the Oshner Clinic as specified. I’m also positive that the Wiggins’ decided that keeping their family intact would not be an option as a little over 2 years later, he would be committed to the Florida State Hospital & when removed by his father, just 3 months after admission, they would send a letter to the medical director reporting that they were looking at boarding schools. 

        OTHER THAN THAT letter there is nothing else recorded about how Thomas was doing OR his whereabouts for over a year until he was sentenced to the Dozier School for Boys in September of 1953. It’s easy to wonder:

  WHERE THE HELL WAS THOMAS WIGGINS FOR THE YEAR IN BETWEEN??

  PAGE BY EXCRUTIATING PAGE

IT WOULD BE an impossible task to list out every page of Thomas’s file in detail BUT what I am going to do is list out some of the more interesting & questionable items that I’ve seen. For the sake of everyone’s sanity, I’m only going to talk about some of the more questionable details leading to his 1952 commitment to the State Hospital in Chattahoochee, Florida through when he would become an inmate at Dozier in September of 1953. Everything after will be covered in the next couple of posts.

  Anyone interested in reading it in its entirety can click here:

Wiggins Case File

  SO LET’S START with the basics….

      WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS THE DIAGNOSIS??

 I COUNTED NOTHING short of half a dozen different reasons for Thomas’s commitment to the Florida State Hospital in 1952. That’s right SIX different diagnoses, ALL independent of one another, each listed on separate areas of a form OR on a completely different form altogether. Though most were pretty common by today’s standards, one REALLY stuck out like a sore thumb. See if Y’all can figure out which one I’m talking about…

  1) Schizophrenic

2) Agressive Psychosis

3) Dementia Praecox

4) Homosexuality

5) Vivid Hallucinations

6) Mental Incompetency

  DOES ANYTHING ON the list jump out at you?? If you said number 4, you’re definitely NOT alone! When I saw “Homosexuality” listed as a diagnosis, I was stunned…At least initially. It didn’t take long for the shock to wear off & everything started to make sense. I’ll cop to the possibility that Tommy may have had some serious mental health issues BUT it was all too clear that the family’s major concern was that he may be gay. 

      THIS PARTICULAR “ISSUE”  had got me thinking; Was Thomas gay & the fact that he was unable to express this the reason for some of these other issues that he was having OR did these other mental issues exist within him already, only to be exasperated by the frustration that he must have felt not being able to be his true self? 

  UNFORTUNATELY, WE WILL probably never know the answer & even if we did, it’s far too late to help Thomas now.

      THE PROOF LIES IN THE INCONSISTENCIES

OFFICIALLY LABELING THOMAS’S “problem” would NOT be the only inconsistency. I have to bring up one of the most careless, idiotic mistakes that someone in an official capacity can make; Getting a patient’s date of birth/age incorrect on forms inside of their chart. I wish I could say that this was just a one time deal that was due to a typo BUT it wasn’t.

      THIS PARTICULAR INDISCRETION became a common occurrence over a number of Thomas’s documents. His year of birth was changed from 1937 to 1938, even at one point listing his birth month as May instead of March. His age often fluctuated. For example, one form would list Thomas as being 14, however, another would show his age at 15, even though the completion date on both matched. 

  IN ALL ACTUALITY, the entire file was so chaotic that it took forever to get through. Every time I’d begin scanning a page, I’d notice something odd & have to stop to make a note about it. For instance, I’d read a doctor’s comment about how Thomas was only apt to self harm & then the next page would have that same physician noting that his “Propensity was to harm others.” My personal favorite was when the attending physician reported that there was really nothing outstanding about Tommy but immediately goes on to state that “Tommy is extremely ill.” Did this educated physician, who was the Medical Director of the Florida State Hospital, realize that he contradicted himself on a regular basis? If he DIDN’T, he’s an idiot & if he DID than he’s a jackass…Either scenario made poor Tommy up shit’s creek when it came to receiving ANY type of reliable treatment.  

  IN SPITE OF Thomas’s illness being described as dire, it ultimately didn’t prevent his father from discharging him only a few months into his treatment. Though we have no record of what happened during his year away from FSH, we can assume that he continued to decline…OR as I see it, he wouldn’t stop being gay. Thomas would resurface again BUT this time he wouldn’t be receiving hospital care, he would be sent to a brutal reform school located in Marianna, Florida where he would live out the remaining days of his way too short life.

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  ♤Please Consider Helping In The Fight For Justice By Signing The 1st Petition: https://www.change.org/p/jenn-moslek-re-investigation-of-the-arthur-g-dozier-school-for-boys♤

  ☆ IF YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW SUFFERED ABUSE, PASSED AWAY, WENT MISSING OR WITNESSED ANY WRONGDOINGS WHILE AT “THE FLORIDA INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL FOR BOYS” AKA “THE ARTHUR G. DOZIER SCHOOL FOR BOYS” OR THE OKEECHOBEE SCHOOL FOR BOYS, PLEASE REACH OUT VIA findingflorida.blog OR ANY OF THE CONTACT INFO LISTED BELOW!!☆

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      INVESTIGATING DOZIER: THOMAS Pt. 1 ~ The Road To Commitment  JUNE 19TH, 1954 AFTER BEING DECLARED “incompetent” by a Jackson County court, a 15 year-old boy is transferred into the custody of the Florida State hospital; Within 48 hours of his arrival, he is pronounced dead.