#and one of them is definitely testing my ability to keep it alive god damn

[herbgerblin]

the kitten ratio in my home has increased by 200%

[welllpthisishappening]

First-Line Defensive Pairing

Of all the things they’d done in the last few months, spending the afternoon at the Museum of Ice Cream was one of the more ridiculous. Mostly because of the wooden spoons they gave out on the tour. Partially because it seemed Will Scarlet could not stop casting furtive glances at Belle French. Or the heels that always matched her dresses. Maybe because she kept answering his hypothetical questions. And maybe even because he was willing to drift far closer to genuine these days. At least when it came to his feelings for her.

————

Word Count: 3.7K AN: Take two! Ok, so apparently yesterday when I posted this Tumblr thought it’d be a really cool idea to just...reformat the entire story. With whole graphs in totally wrong spots. Anyway, here it is again. Just as ridiculous as yesterday. With just as many Will and Belle emotions. Because that’s a thing I’m doing now, apparently. Writing Blue Line-era Will and Belle. If you’d like more of these flirt-prone idiots, here is their first date and Belle getting annoyed that Will fought someone on the ice. Technically, this was part of the kiss prompts and was “height difference kisses.” I hope the five of you who are interested in this enjoy it. That includes @shireness-says​ and @eleveneitherway​ who are mostly to blame for this.

————

“I’m going to ask you a hypothetical question.”

Belle lifted her eyebrows. Let some of that light creep back in her gaze, a flash of amusement that regularly made Will’s stomach leap dangerously close to the base of his ribs. That’s why he did it. Maybe not the rib thing, partially because he wasn’t even sure that was the correct technical term. The rest of it, though. The eye thing. Sure. Definitely. One-hundred percent. Why he’d also made sure the little wooden spoon they’d been given at the start of this tour was still in the corner of his mouth; to guarantee absolute absurdity, and he figured that started when they decided to spend their afternoon at the Museum of Ice Cream, but he was willing to take it all a step further. 

In the absurdity factor, at least. 

Other things were—

Well, it wasn’t as if they explicitly decided to keep the relationship a secret. Not on purpose. Not really. Or come to any sort of legitimate agreement regarding the use of the word relationship. It never seemed...important, honestly. And that was a potentially problematic and lackadaisical approach to someone who made Will smile with an almost alarming consistency in the last few months, but she’d also sort of snuck up on him, and Ariel was going to be so annoying. 

About the whole goddamn thing. 

She’d never shut up about it, he knew. 

So he didn’t push. Belle didn’t, either. An unspoken agreement, that’s what it was. He had other things to do, anyway. Like get ready for a playoff run and ignore the lingering ache in his calves after the echo of Arthur’s whistle stopped ringing in his ears, and, ok, his apartment was starting to feel a little bit larger than it had in a long time, maybe since Killian had moved out, but that was fine. Cup runs did not come because someone was in a relationship. Will had seen that first hand. With Cap, of all people. 

Watched the way his whole life had fallen apart around his ankles, little shards of hope and possibility that, Will knew, still threatened the structural integrity of Kilian’s internal organs and all four ventricles of his heart, and he did not understand enough basic biology to be making those sorts of sweeping observations, but Robin had lost someone too and that had been horrible and tragic and—

If Will simply did not want to jinx things, then that was neither here nor there.

Relationship’y speaking. 

It was good. They were good. He hated the wooden spoon they gave them to taste test half a dozen ice cream flavors. 

He was legitimately worried about getting splinters in his tongue. 

No excuses could possibly reason away that problem pre-game. 

Belle’s eyebrows were still in the same spot. “You going to follow up on that, or…” “Would you burn a Gutenberg Bible? To stave off the apocalypse and or potential frostbite?” “Those two things go together, do they?” He shrugged. “In this instance, yeah, because—” “—Well, it wouldn’t matter,” Belle said, eyes flitting towards the overly enthusiastic tour guide and the seemingly never-ending history of ice cream, “because I wouldn’t allow myself to be in that position. And I don’t live anywhere near the Public Library. What would I be doing there when the freeze-wave came?” His stomach. Did that thing. Jumped and twisted, got a ten from the Russian judge on its floor routine. He was cautiously optimistic he’d be able to pull off a flawless beam performance too. It was an exceedingly convoluted metaphor. Wrong Olympics, too. 

“Does salt air give you mind-reading powers?” “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are,” Belle grinned. Moving her hand faster than he was entirely prepared for ensured that he nearly dropped his small plastic cup of churro churro ice cream. He made noise. Without trying. A hiss and a grunt in the back of his throat that then led to a sound escaping between Belle’s half-hearted scowl, and that sound was closer to a giggle than either of them would ever admit and just enough to mess with his mental faculties a little and the tour guide stopped talking. To stare straight at them. 

Color lifted on Belle’s cheeks, ice cream-covered spoon held awkwardly between them. 

“As you were, ma’am,” Will said, all false bravado, and that was something of a trend. In several different capacities. It was far too depressing a thought to have while eating cinnamon-flavored ice cream. 

Belle elbowed him. 

And the tour guide got back to her to spiel. Without a reprimand. 

“Say freeze-wave again without laughing.”

Her eyelashes were more of a problem, honestly. Than the eyebrows. Or the specific jut of her chin Will had rather quickly learned meant she was ready to challenge him on some ridiculous topic, fully prepared to argue a position she might not have otherwise agreed with. Only because it wasn’t what he was arguing, and it was easy to understand why she won that Model UN award. 

Plus, her eyelashes were just stupid long, and he thought she was really pretty. 

Like in a fundamental sort of way. 

“Freeze-wave,” Belle enunciated, pausing between syllables for maximum effect, “are you asking me Day After Tomorrow questions because of the ice cream, because I’m a librarian or because you’re the strangest man alive?” She finally ate the rest of the ice cream. It was starting to melt, that was why. This was very melt-prone ice cream. “Oh, shit,” she mumbled, “this is really good. Better than mine.” Something popped in his shoulder when he reached towards her plastic cup. He wouldn’t tell Ariel about that, either. 

“Which kind is—” Fighting off the objections of a small librarian who resolutely refused to wear anything except heels, no matter what the weather was like, was not usually as difficult as it was in that moment. Will assumed it had something to do with sugar. Or the force of his smile. Robbing the rest of him of energy and the ability to fend off either one of Belle’s fists. “Why are you like this?” “You didn’t want to try peanut and pretzel. With peanut butter swirl.” “Swallowed the flyer for this place while I wasn’t looking, huh?” Sticking her tongue out was distracting. Almost enough that he didn’t notice the absolutely atrocious attempt at impersonating his voice. “Oh, no, no, babe, I don’t want that; you can get peanut butter anywhere. That’s not special.” “Well, it’s not.” “I’m a big fancy hockey player, and I know everything there is to know about ice cream flavors and the potential life-changing palette moment that comes from the sublime combination of salty and sweet.” “Oh, now you’re just taunting me.” Her eyes narrowed, that time. His smile was going to permanently stretch out his cheeks. “You have a disgusting mind.” “You can’t get churro ice cream everywhere, babe.” “I’m going back to get honey later.” Will hummed. Stuck his lower lip out. Noticed that flash return. And hoarded it. Like a relationship—

Ah, fuck. 

“Would you burn the Gutenberg Bible?” Her laugh was quickly becoming his favorite sound. Which wasn’t bad, per se. Was just kind of passably concerning. God damn. It was the heels. All of them kept matching the dresses she wore. She kept wearing dresses. 

Of course, that was going to mess with Will’s head. 

Belle shook her head. “No.” “Historical significance?” “Well, once again, I would not be in that position, would have listened to science and fled to warmer climates, so as not to make myself prey for escaped...what were they? Tigers?” “I honestly can’t remember,” Will admitted. 

“This was your hypothetical!”

Heads snapped their direction. Frustration creased the tour guide’s forehead, and they’d paid extra to learn about the history of ice cream. Will had already known about the origins of the ice cream cone, though. So, the whole thing felt almost like a raw deal, and he was far more interested in preserving the color in Belle’s cheeks. He saluted. Who he was saluting was anyone’s guess, but it very likely was the otherwise unengaged teenage kid trudging behind his family who absolutely recognized Will. 

“That’s going to end up on sixteen different social media sites,” Belle warned, not quite able to get her voice to an appropriate whispering level. 

“So long as he got my good side, you won’t hear me complaining.” “Do you have a good side?”

“Sweetheart, the self-confidence. God.” She squeezed her eyes shut. While practically beaming at him, and Will had to bend his knees to reach, something else creaking in the process, but that was fine, and good, and pretty goddamn fantastic because her lips tasted a bit like chocolate. 

“‘S’not your best work,” Belle mumbled, almost entirely into his mouth. 

“Brain freeze.” “I would burn no books. That’s my final hypothetical answer.” Her eyelashes must have existed purely to torment him. Leaning back made it clear when they fluttered back open, and he swore there were flecks of gold in her eyes. Maybe he was melting, too. With the ice cream. That was almost poetic. “None at all? What if you were going to die?” “Maudlin.” “I don’t know what that means.” “Liar,” she challenged, another smile tugging at her mouth, and Will was clearly staring at her mouth. Stained slightly with chocolate, as it was. “I stand by it, though. The book stuff, not the commentary on your burgeoning intelligence.” “You want to find a corner to go and make out in?” Different laugh. The kind that came with her head thrown back, hair tickling Will’s forearm because at some point his arm had found its way around her, and touching Belle was becoming something almost close to second nature. “I could keep complimenting you if you want,” Belle said, “or I could give you my reason for not burning books.” “You’re a giant nerd, that’s why.” She clicked her tongue. “Very, very cute nerd, though.” “Betcha say that to all the girls.”

His stomach stilled. Dropped a few inches, for good measure. Below where it was supposed to be, and inching dangerously close to his feet, and what Will could not imagine was a very sanitary floor. The Museum of Ice Cream had a giant sprinkle pit. Nothing about that seemed very sanitary. 

“I think stories have a purpose,” Belle said, still not quite whispering but definitely getting there, and he knew. Knew she knew. What he was thinking and feeling and unspoken understanding was quickly becoming the name of this particular game. With them. 

Where it wasn’t a game at all. 

Damn. 

Ariel was going to be so annoying. 

“No matter what they are. Shitty as they can be, all those ups and downs, and ridiculous, often unnecessary melodrama. It’s going to matter to somebody. Someone, somewhere, will be living their life and read those words or see those letters, and they’ll think, wow, whoever wrote this, gets me, and it will change everything for them. They’ll go back to it. Find solace and safety in it. Themselves, maybe. They’ll believe everything will be ok. Even if they only think that while they’re reading.” “Don’t forget audiobooks,” Will muttered, voice strangled and tinged with emotion. In the ice cream museum. Figured, honestly. 

Belle pinched the side of his wrist. 

“Ow. Avoid the bruise further up, please.” “Did you get hit?” Nodding took more energy than it should have, too. She hadn’t been to a game. He hadn’t asked her. What an idiot. “Not bad though, that’s just—” “—Par for the course.” “Mixing idioms, mon trésor.” “Oh, I got that one, actually.” “Slow pitch softball, that’s why,” Will reasoned, some of the tension he wasn’t especially pleased by loosening. 

“I think we’re on a roll now.” He hummed. Nodded, again. Curled his fingers into the back of Belle’s dress. Blue, that afternoon. With matching heels. “It all matters,” she added, soft and earnest, and his eyes snapped. To her and with her and that second one didn’t make sense, not really, but he was and wanted to be and that absolutely terrified him. 

Of it all falling apart again. Of it not being enough. 

He wasn’t enough. 

A story no one was ever all that interested in finishing. 

“You think?” Belle nodded. “Why’d you start playing hockey?” “Quite a transition.” “Tit for tat, or—no, no, c’mon don’t look at me like that.” Red stained her cheeks, now. Making it difficult to concentrate on anything else, although the desire to kiss her again was a fairly strong second, and that kid was taking more pictures. “That’s not fair.” “You’ve brought this on yourself, babe,” Will argued, and he hoped Lucas didn’t yell. At him. He’d never really listened to the social media rules. “It’s a very long, occasionally depressing story about a kid and his single mom, the second of whom often worked her ass off and her fingers to the bone, and all those other delightfully visual clichés. But then! Who would guess, she got a job picking up extra shifts cleaning at the rink in town. Home to the world’s shittiest ice and loudest Zamboni, it instantly drew the attention of our kid-like hero. 

“He was...infatuated, let’s say. With the sounds, especially. Nothing sounds like that first scrape of skates on fresh ice. Full of possibility, you know?” Belle didn’t answer. Will kept talking. “Best noise in the world. And then he learned there were other noises. Pucks hitting the back of nets. Sticks clanging together. Grunts and groans and the game itself, how loud it was. Helped silence some of his thoughts, none of which were ever very good. Lots of worries, some about his very dead sister, then a few more about that mother and her predilection toward clichés.”

“Good word,” Belle murmured. He kissed the top of her hair. The kid was openly staring at them, now. 

“Anyway, the crux of the story is that the guy who owned the rink agreed to let the kid play on the rink. Knew the mother, understood her situation, and hockey is expensive. Like, well, we spout all that bullshit about hockey is for everyone, and I’ve got to stand up there and smile and nod and agree, and it’s fucked up because it’s not really true. Hockey’s for rich kids and families with regularly functioning alternators in their car.” 

He shook his head. Had to. To chase away the memories and the cobwebs, and Cap knew this, too. Understood it, even. Remembered a life before the Vanklads, and not every kid got the Vankalds, and sometimes Will let himself wonder what would have happened if he’d found the Vanklads. Or their upstate New York equivalent. 

Gotten better shin pads, probably. 

“Hockey’s an exclusive sorta club,” Will continued, “gotta know someone who’s related to someone else, and they know someone who played, and it’s six degrees of increasingly desperate separation. By some lucky twist of fate, though, Jimmy Newell knew some bastard who knew somebody else, who saw me play, and you don’t say no to USA Developmental. Spent two years in Minnesota, way before Cap did, so he doesn’t get to claim that state as his own.” Belle’s lips twitched. “Good to know, for argument’s sake.” His stomach was becoming a problem. 

Heart, too. 

Sputtering and slamming, uneven beats that were going to leave another bruise. Will licked his lips. 

“I went to Developmental, declared for the draft, got picked by New York, went to college, stayed in college, and the rest is history. As they say.” “They do say that, yeah.” “What’s the next question, then?” “How do you know there’s another question?” “Shot in the dark,” Will shrugged, but that was a lie, and it was getting increasingly easier to read that pinch between her eyebrows. “So, hit me.” “Literally?” “Please do not literally hit me. Locksley’s been feeling the forecheck the last couple’a practices.” “I know what that means!” Someone shushed them. Will couldn’t imagine the color will ever leave Belle’s cheeks. 

He kissed the bridge of her nose. 

“Who’d you get to teach you French?” “Who said I didn’t just learn French on my own?” “Babe,” she chided, and, well, that was the tipping point. As they say. To his heart and his stomach and—

“You wanna come to a game this series?” Belle blinked. Once, twice. Leaned back. Tilted her head. Likely waited for the camera crew that was inevitably lurking in the corner he was cautiously optimistic they’d make out in eventually. Didn’t happen, though. There was no camera crew. 

Just Will Scarlet, professional hockey player, and part-time sap. Standing in one of the more nonsensical museums they’d been to in the last two months. Although they did go to the transit museum on three separate occasions, and he could honestly say he didn’t expect that. 

So, maybe this was all just—

Par for the course. 

He’d have to make some sort of deal with Eric. To make sure Ariel didn’t proclaim her relationship-plotting victories from a variety of rooftops. Someone in front office had to know someone else with Empire State Building connections. 

Zelena probably did. 

Ariel would use that. 

“Where would I sit?”

He pulled her. Up. With an almost violent amount of force, threatening the safety of both of Belle’s shoulders in the process. But she’d asked the one question he hadn’t totally considered in his half-plotted plan, and getting his mouth back on hers was an acceptable diversion. Plus, she looped her arms around his neck pretty quickly. 

Which had to count for something, he figured. 

One hand cupped the back of his head, pulling him closer. Like he had any intention of being anywhere else, swiping his tongue against Belle’s lip and swallowing her sigh. They were still in public, technically. Her feet trailed the multi-color carpet beneath them, Will’s arms tightening and his palm flat against her back and her spine, and if she kept rocking up like that, he was going to do something drastic. 

Something in the same realm as melting, probably. 

Strands of hair tickled his skin, making him tilt his head and alter the angle, and that was entirely appropriate, but getting kicked out of the Museum of Ice Cream would probably make an absolutely fantastic story. Once they told people they were—

Doing whatever it was they were doing. 

They’d get there eventually. 

“Cap’s sister-in-law is coming,” Will said, not entirely able to catch his breath, “wants to see Kris and—” “—Should I know who that is?” “Works in equipment, and that’s not really the point.” “What is?” “That Little Vankald isn’t super interested in listening to Cap be full older brother on her and, far as I know, is fully capable of getting tickets wherever she wants. Can sweet talk the gold out of anyone’s pockets, and—” “—Wait, wait, are you equating hockey tickets to gold?” “When I’m playing, ma choupette.” “Is that cabbage?” He hummed. Nearly tripped over his own feet trying to hold onto Belle and the mostly melted cup of ice cream and paying for more churro ice cream made perfect sense. At the moment. “One of the kids at school was French Canadian,” Will explained, “used to swear all the time on the ice, and then he’d use stuff like that.” “You’re sharing endearments with a trash talker.” “More or less, yeah. Used to infuriate other guys.” “Who wants to be called a cabbage?” “I think you’re super cute.” Belle scowled. Didn’t argue, though. And Will refused to linger on the beat of his pulse. “I’d really like it if you were there,” he added, “Little Vanklad’ll be cool about it. She owes me. I fed her for a very long time.” “Did you just?” “I make incredible garlic bread; ask anyone.” “Wow,” Belle drawled, “just like people on the street, or…also, do you call her Little Vanklad all the time?” “To her face and behind her back with startling regularity. Not everyone gets my French endearments, babe. Consider yourself lucky.” 

She scrunched her nose. 

Stayed silent. All Will could hear was the soft explanations of the tour guide, and the questions from tourists who probably also thought going to the Museum of Sex made them edgy. After they bought a STRAND tote bag. God, maybe he was a dick. A judgmental dick, who still had too many thoughts and used an occasionally violent game to silence them by making sure he was the one dictating the noises and the trash talk and—

“Hey, uh, Will...Mr., uh—Mr. Scarlet? Do you think we could get a picture?”

Belle’s lips disappeared. Behind her teeth, and that didn’t do anything to temper the sound of what might have actually been joy. At the prospect of the staring teenager and his photo request. 

In the goddamn Museum of Ice Cream. 

Giving a jerky nod, Will quickly scanned the kid for any team-branded, but it didn’t look like he was wearing merch and that was a rather small miracle. Far as those things went. 

Still, he had been in the middle of a pretty intense internal dialogue and potential freakout, and there was going to be ice cream on his hand if he didn’t throw this cup away. 

Belle took the phone. 

The kid’s phone. 

“Smile,” she instructed, and Will tried. Really. He hoped he didn’t end up looking like a murderer on Twitter or Instagram or whatever kids used, and he had no idea when he got that old. When things started to freak him out, and he let the nerves claw back in, and the worry take root and—

“Hey,” he said before the kid could walk back to his parents and their matching STRAND tote bags. “You think you could take a picture of us, real quick?”

No one had ever moved faster. 

In, like, the history of photography. 

Circling an arm around Belle’s waist, Will’s smile came a bit easier and that was good because he was totally unprepared for what happened after that. Another instruction and flick of someone’s thumb, but then Belle was on her toes, even with the heels, and her lips were pressed against his cheek and it was like some sort of really exceptional sugar high. 

Without the threat of inevitable crash. 

Will didn’t think so, at least. He was also pretty positive it wasn’t tigers in The Day After Tomorrow. Wolves, maybe. 

“Tell Little Vankald to save me a seat.” “I mean, I don’t think you should call her that.”

Her teeth grazed his jaw. Both of them were laughing in the picture, the kid’s eyes going impossibly wide as Will thanked him. “How hard you think it is to set up an Instagram account?”

[shirtlesssammy]

3x10: Dream a Little Dream of Me

Then:

The show keeps reminding us that Dean’s going to Hell, so enjoy his pretty face while you can

Now:

Bobby stalks his house at night. He’s suddenly attacked ---and we flash to him in a motel room, unconscious. A maid wanders in and finds him. He’s inside his mind fighting whatever haunts him. 

Dean finds Sam getting day-drunk at a bar. Sam laments the fact that he tried saving Dean. Dean settles in beside his brother and orders a “whisky, double, neat.” 

Sam is beside himself thinking about where Dean’s going, and what he’s going to become. “How can you care so little about yourself?” Sam wonders. (WE ALL WONDER.) Dean’s saved by a phone call and the brothers rush to the hospital to find Bobby comatose. The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with him. 

(Ooh, I forgot that Cathryn Humphris wrote this episode. So good.) 

The brothers look around Bobby’s motel room. Sam finds his murder board in the back of the closet. They find an obit of a doctor that went to sleep and never woke up. Bobby must have been looking into the doctor’s death. 

Dean heads to the doctor’s office and interviews his lab assistant. Apparently the doctor was an expert in dream and sleep disorders. The lab assistant doesn’t really want to talk. She already talked to the other detective, the “very nice, older man with a beard.” 

Dean threatens the woman with a trip down to the station. The assistant swears she didn’t know anything about his side experiments. Dean bluffs his way into getting the doctor’s research. Good job, Dean!

He next heads to one of Doctor Greg’s test subjects. Dude offers Dean a beer, and Dean accepts. Hmm, I’m questioning your professionalism as much as the dude is Dean. Anyway, turns out the guy can’t dream. The study was the first time he had a dream since he was a kid. The guy didn’t continue with the study. 

At the hospital, Dean and Sam meet up. Sam brings research on the African Dream Root that was part of the dream study. This stuff has been used for dreamwalking (but not like Jack and Kaia dreamwalking…). It lets someone wander in someone else’s dreams. With enough of the root and practice, you can start to control things, changing dreams. “Killing people in their sleep,“ Dean suggests. YEP. 

The boys wonder why Bobby is still alive. 

We get a glimpse into Bobby’s dream. He’s barely holding on. BOBBY. 

The brothers theorize who the killer is --probably one of the test subjects. Sam laments the fact that they can’t talk to Bobby about the case. Dean suggests taking the dream root. They realize that in order to do that they need Bela.

Later, Bela arrives at the motel. Sam’s there alone. Bela almost instantly turns on the sexy time, and Sam is VERY responsive. 

Alas, it was just a dream and Dean wakes Sam and tells him he was making some “serious happy noises.” OH SAM. 

Dean wants to know who Sam was dreaming about but Sam wont tell. Let’s take a moment and add that Dean’s guesses are: One (1) Angelina Jolie. Two (2) Brad Pitt. DUDE, quit projecting so hard. 

Anyway, Bela arrives, much to the discomfort of Sam (and his pants). 

She’s brought the African dream root for Bobby. Dean puts the root with the Colt in Bobby’s safe and kicks Bela out of the room. Sam awkwardly bids her adieu. 

 The brothers concoct their dream potion to save Bobby. It includes some of Bobby’s hair.

They drink the concoction and feel no change. Sam then notices that it’s raining. It’s actually raining upside down --and they’re at Bobby’s house. It’s cleaned up. They start walking around calling for Bobby. 

Sam tells Dean he’s heading outside to look. He walks outside and it’s sunny and the birds are chirping. And when he tries to go back inside, the door won’t open. Dean can’t hear him from the inside either. 

Dean continues to wander the house. He wanders to the back closet and finds Bobby.

Dean tells him they’re using dream root to share his dream, but Bobby’s locked firmly in Dream Mode. He’s more focused on the flickering lights in his house. “She’s coming,” he pants. And his wife walks in, bloody and terrible. Oh Bobby :( She asks him why he stabbed her to death. He pleads for her to understand that he didn’t know about monsters back then. OOF. Hard stuff. 

Meanwhile, Sam’s walking through a laundry detergent commercial.

The doctor’s former test subject suddenly shows up, whacks Sam with a baseball bat, and then declares himself “a god” in the shared dream. Well, that ALWAYS ends well on this show!

Dean pleads with Bobby to let go of the nightmare Karen who’s pounding and wailing on the other side of the door. “I’m not gonna let you die,” Dean promises, because Bobby’s “like a father” to him. BRB WEEPING. Bobby uses the power of FILIAL LOVE to control the dream, and the pounding stops.

Sam, Dean, and Bobby snap awake at the same time (preventing Sam “Head Trauma” Winchester from getting another blow with a bat). 

Later, Dean asks Bobby about Karen. THIN ICE TERRITORY! “Everybody got into hunting somehow,” Bobby explains. Sam breaks into the soulful moment with an update on the dream dude. Jeremy Frost is a genius whose dad whacked him in the head with a bat as a child. Jeremy never dreamed after that - not until he started using dream root. Now he can trample into people’s dreams with a bit of their body - like hair, or in Bobby’s case, saliva. Bobby sipped some beer when he talked to Jeremy. Dean looks abashed. He….MIGHT have drunk a beer at Jeremy’s as well. Now that both Dean and Bobby are targets, the stakes are raised. It’s time for operation STAY AWAKE.

Two Days Later

Dean is EXTREMELY GRUMPY. It’s been two days, they haven’t found Jeremy, and he is missing his sleep desperately. #RELATABLE Bela and Bobby continue to work the case from the hotel with no luck. At the end of his tether, Dean pulls the car over and settles in for a snooze in the danger zone. He’s going to confront Jeremy on his own turf. Sam swipes one of Dean’s hairs and prepares to join Dean’s dream root nap.

They wake up in the car, still in the woods at the side of the road. Suddenly, Dean’s movie reel mind spins up a gentle song and soft autumn colors and THERE sits Lisa in a clearing. She’s wind-rumpled and gorgeous, dressed in soft yellow and waiting for Dean at a romantic picnic in the park. 

For My Heart Aches for Dean Science:

Excuse me while I cry in Dean’s face for thirty minutes. Sam did not expect his brother to be so damn soft. “I’ve never had this dream before,” Dean protests.

Lisa blinks out and Jeremy peeks around a tree. It’s chase time! The dream transitions to the hotel hallway, now papered in a forest print. At the end of the hallway is a door that leads to a dimly lit room. Inside the gloomy room, Dean sits at a desk. 

Other!Dean greets himself (very polite) and tells himself that it’s time to talk. “I’m my own worst nightmare,” Dean smirks. He GETS the symbolism, and it’s BORING. Except that Other!Dean immediately peels away Dean’s bravado. He tells him that Dean is dead inside and worthless (and we bundle this man up into blankets and plop him into therapy!)

Dean can’t make the apparition disappear, and Other!Dean quickly takes control. The door slams, trapping them inside the hotel room. 

Sam wakes up back in the Impala and tries to wake up Dean, but Dean’s turned into Jeremy. Jeremy explains that he killed the doctor so he can keep using dream root and DREAM. He binds Sam to the ground.

Other!Dean continues to say every terrible thing Dean thinks about himself and it is HARD. TO. LISTEN. TO. THIS. SHIT. Everything about Dean is patterned after his father, and geared towards protecting Sam. There’s nothing TO Dean, Other!Dean argues, other than being “Daddy’s blunt little instrument.” 

Dean snaps at last. “My father was an obsessed bastard!” he shouts. And the fight begins. “I didn’t deserve what he put on me, and I don’t deserve to go to Hell!” DEAN!!!! BRB weeping some more! Dean shoots his other self, but what should be a moment of psychological triumph quickly goes south. Other!Dean wakes with black eyes and Demon!Dean gleefully tells him that there’s no escaping his fate. He’ll die, go to Hell, and become a demon. 

Sam’s in dire straits. He’s still bound to the ground, with Jeremy hovering above him with a baseball bat. In a moment reminiscent of Princess Bride, Sam metaphorically switches the sword to his right hand and reminds Jeremy that he ALSO took dream root and has control of the dream. Jeremy’s dad barges out of the forest, a screaming terror of a parent, and Jeremy’s eyes go wide. Sam whacks Jeremy with the bat while he’s distracted, and both Sam and Dean’s dreams dissolve. They’re back in the waking world, in the Impala. Jeremy’s threat has been neutralized. 

Later, Sam and Bobby debrief in the hotel hallway. Bobby’s glad Sam saved them, but wonders if Sam’s psychic abilities came into play. Ummmm definitely not? Probably definitely not? Almost certainly definitely possibly. 

Dean’s having trouble tracking down Bela. Bobby wonders why she was helping them in the first place. “Flagstaff,” Dean explains. This doesn’t make sense to Bobby - he just cut her a good deal on a sale there, that’s all. It dawns on the Winchesters that they may have been played. They head to the hotel safe to discover the Colt missing. 

At the Impala, Dean asks Sam what he saw in the shared dream. UM NOTHING. Dean also says he didn’t see a damn thing! He was just focused on trying to find Sam. Bbys plz. Dean clears his throat awkwardly and confesses (in a tone one might use to confess to wearing ladies’ undergarments) that he doesn’t want to die. Sam promises to find a way to save him. Dean flashes back to his dream one more time, just so it’s seeped into our hearts. We see Demon!Dean taunting Dean about his fate. Demon!Dean snaps his fingers, a cruel grin on his face, and the episode cuts to black.

Mister Quoteman, Send Us a Quote:

No one can save you, because you don't wanna be saved. How can you care so little about yourself?

Thanks for the news flash, Edison!

Dean. I love you

What are the things that you dream? I mean, your car? That's Dad's. Your favorite leather jacket? Dad's. Your music? Dad's. Do you even have an original thought?

You can’t escape me, Dean. You’re gonna die. And this? This is what you’re gonna become!

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Finally stepping up

Request 

warning: angst, fluff, 

Request: Well my request is kinda have a long story about tony stark having a daughter reader through a one night stand and their relationship is strained (u know tony, drinking working and sex with other women) While tony while in Afghanistan she ran away because of stane because she overheard stane and he heard her listening and threatened that he will kill her or something like that or she had enough of tony's shit.

It was her birthday she was turning eleven her father promised to take her out for a special birthday dinner. She had put on her best dress and shoes and a button that she got from Pepper that said, birthday girl. She was so excited sitting on the couch. She was alone, besides Jarvis. Pepper had left because something important came up and Tony said he was right around the and she believed him and now it was going on for three hours and her father was still wasn’t here and she was all alone. 

But she was still excited because it was her birthday, it was her day, and her father promised a special dinner. So she continued to wait.

An hour later (y/n) was woken up by a large bang sitting up she hit her head. It was then that she realized she had fallen asleep under the coffee table. Much like her father she had the ability to sleep anywhere but her bed. (Y/n) was about to rush out from under the table when she heard voices one was her father and the other one an unfamiliar female. She hid back under the table and listened. She watched as they stumbled around giggling and laughing as the trip on the stairs. They continued all the way up to his bedroom. 

She flinched as she heard his door slam shut then her tears spill. She climbs out from under the table she rips off her button and runs to her room. Getting her blanket and Pillow (y/n) curls up in her tub and cries herself to sleep.

-

Pepper had just sent some reporter packing after finding her wandering the hall in nothing but a thong and tony’s shirt near (Y/n)’s room. She was mad- NO she was fuming she was fucking pissed. Tony had an award ceremony the night before and he had straight up told her he was going to miss it she was okay with that assuming he was keeping the promise he had given to his daughter a few days prior but that’s not what happened. Instead, he went out partying and brought a blonde bimbo report who fell for his charm home for one night. What made it even worse was she knew that this reporter would bite them in the ass later.

“Do you know what yesterday was?” Pepper asked her anger was very clear Tony flinched when he heard her voice and quickly put distance between them with a table. 

“I know, I know the award thing I missed it and I’m sorry but in my defense, I told you beforehand that didn’t want to go and that I wasn’t going and you said or you looked okay with it.”

“yes, I was okay with it because I assumed you would be spending the night with your daughter ya know because it was her GOD DAMN BIRTHDAY. That little girl cried herself to sleep last night as you were in between the legs of that blonde bitch. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Tony groaned as he dropped his head in his hands he didn’t have a good excuse “ I forgot”

“FORGETTING ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH. Especially when I left all these messages for you” Pepper clicked his computer screen and all the birthday messages reminding him of his daughter popped up.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologizes to me go apologies to your daughter. She is the one who sat up alone waiting for you all night, she is the one who's heartbroken, she is the one whose promise you broke.  You go apologizes to her NOOOOOW”

As Pepper began to screaming Tony rushed out of the door and up the stairs rushing to his daughter’s room. He busted through her door and fell on to her floor he crawls to her bed and pulls the covers back and finds it empty. When he turns around he flinches and yelps as he finds Peper behind him. She points a stern and scary finger to the bathroom Tony nods understanding and follows her finger feeling her glare burn his back. He gently knocks on the door when he hears a growl behind him he decides that was the wrong response he opens the door, the growling stops.

Peaking in the bathroom he sees a pile of blankets in the tub slowly he walks in and kneels before the tub. Pulling back the covers he sees (y/n) doing a terrible job of pretending to be asleep. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her face was scrunched up as she held on to her pillow tightly, it was a specially made pillow shaped like Captain America’s shield. 

Tony smiled and he caressed her cheek with his finger “Good morning, darling. I owe you an apologie. I’m sorry I missed your big day I got caught up and forgot I’m so sorry. “ (Y/n) began to squirm away from his touch “I’ll make it up to you. How about me and you have breakfast together?”

She slowly opens her eyes “ Can Pepper come with?” she whispered 

“Of course, I mean who’s going to cook breakfast because I sure can’t. And I know you don't want burnt pancakes and eggs”  she laughed it was true Tony did not have a culinary bone in his body and she knew it, they all knew it. “ Okay now how about you get dressed I’ll meet you downstairs.” He kisses her forehead and helps her out of the tub and watches as she runs off to her closet. 

Tony turns to Pepper she gives him an approving nod then shooshes him out so they could go downstairs and make breakfast together. 

Pepper had taught Tony and (y/n) how to make strawberry waffles, more so (y/n) than Tony. They all had a nice breakfast together before Pepper realized how Late Tony was, then rushed them all out.

“You’re late,” Rhodey said as Tony get out the car.

“I was having Birthday waffles with my daughter.” Rhodey looks over his shoulder at Pepper who was in the car she nods and he understands does ask anything further. He brushes Tony off with two soldiers and leans into the car.

“Happy late birthday, sweetheart. Here I got you something. I hope you like it” He gives her her gift and blows her a kiss as he rushes to catch the plane.

“BRING MY DADDY BACK WE’VE GOT A DINNER DATE” she sticks her head out the window and shouts. He gives her a thumbs up and nods he’d bring him back. 

But he doesn’t.

(Y/n) Cries hard and long when her father doesn’t come up. No one knows what to do.

-

Despise everything that happens (y/n) refuses to leave her home in Miami and go to her mother. It isn’t that her mother is bad or anything she just didn’t want to leave any of her father behind and this house this home was everything of her father. She couldn’t take it away and she definitely couldn’t leave it.

Pepper and Happy stayed with her in the house until her mother could make it down to Miami. Rhodey couldn’t bring himself to see her as he blamed himself for her father’s absence he said he wouldn’t return until he brought her father home.

“Awww” (y/n) mother, Lillith said as she entered her daughter’s room. Her daughter’s bedroom walls were decorated with blown-up pictures of her with friends and family throughout her life it was so adorable. Although she did scoff at a few of the pictures with Tony that showed he was obviously drunk or on drugs.

Lillith did everything in her power to hide her child from Tony but when medical problems came during her pregnancy she needed all the help she could get so she called him up. At first, he didn't believe her but then he did then she gave birth and he asked for a DNA test. Then he offered to pay child support but didn’t want to be there. Then he took her to court because he couldn't grow to legs to come to see his daughter and blamed it on her.

He and his money, of course, won the court case they had shared custody...at first. Lillith had a misstep and lost her job Tony took her back to court and got full custody of (y/n) while she only got visitation every other weekend. He was a fucking bastard that didn't even raise (y/n) Pepper and Happy did while he ran around drinking, partying, and laying with more women. And a judge thought he was the fit parent.

Despite how much she loathed him she couldn’t lie Tony did have a few good moments with their daughter, even if they were few and far between, and the pictures on her wall were proof of it.

“When daddy gets back we’re going on a dinner date. I’m going to wear this” (Y/n) said as she pulled out a red ball gown from her closet showing it off to her. 

(Y/n) was fully aware of what happened to her father Tony had gone off to some foreign country to show off his weapons and the car he was in was ambushed and he was taken away. No one knew where he was, if he was alive, or if he would be returning but (Y/n) was a hundred percent sure she was still having her dinner date with her father even if it isn't on the actual day they planned.

“Where do you think he’s going to take me, Mommy?” Lillith didn’t have the heart to break her daughter's own.

“Where ever you want” she smiled kneeling before her daughter she looked at the dress in her hands “Somewhere fancy honey, Hopefully”.

Everyone could believe Tony was a jerk and didn’t win any awards on parenting but they never agreed on the reasons why. Whereas with Obadiah Stane they could all agree that he was a greedy and sick man and they didn’t want him anywhere near (y/n). After Tony went missing Stane true closers were seen. Running around trying to have talks with (y/n) and tell her about the company. It was very easy to see why he was doing it turns out Tony put a contract together saying if something were to happen to him the company would go to (y/n) when she turned 18 and until then call company matters were to go through Pepper and her mother first. 

Now no one but Stane and the lawyer knew that last bit and they did not share it. So instead of Pepper and Lillith stepping up for (y/n), Obadiah was calling all the shots much like he had done and had been doing with Tony. But unlike Tony (y/n) wasn’t so gullible and could see right through him. And one day she popped the fuck off on him.

He was trying to tell her about the company and weapons and money, he tried to get her to sign over part of the company to him at some point and she just couldn’t take it anymore and pop off on him.

“GO AWAY. I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THIS STUFF-NO I DON’T WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU STOP TRYING TO PUT STUFF IN MY HEAD. YOU ARE NOT MY GUARDIAN YOU AREN’T HELPING ME YOU’RE JUST MAKING IT ALL WORSE. This isn't your company it belongs to the Starks. When my father returns, and he will, he’ll take his company back and kick you to the curve where you belong. You’ve gotten way too comfortable it’s time you leave.”

After that big meltdown (y/n) began to study the company pulling document after document. At this point it was like she knew more about the company it’s processing and it’s history than the old farts that ran it. Although she did have to fight for some documents as Stane himself tried to keep them from them she also noticed that a few were altered.

At a very young age (y/n) knew how to run the company better than Tony ever did.

It was a day (y/n) was neck-deep of the companies files when she got the news that her father was found.

-

(y/n) watched as her father limps out of the plane Rhodey by his side. Standing by the car was Happy, Pepper, (y/n) and her mother all of them with tears in their eyes although Happy hid his tears with a pair of thick sunglasses.

“Did you miss me?” he said as he looked at his daughter

“You missed our date” (Y/n) said pouting as tears started to fall down her face letting go of her mother she rushed and gave Tony a hug. “ I knew it, I knew it you were still alive. Everyone kept saying no but I knew it.” she squeezed him tight he whined but didn’t say anything

“sweetheart?”

“Please don’t leave me again”

“I won’t. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.” With his one free arm, he wiped her tears away and kissed her forehead. “Hey,” Tony said as he looked to Lillith who was wiping her tears from her eyes “I’m going to step up my game. I’m going to do better. I’d appreciate it if you stuck around and helped.”

“I guess someone has to cook. Lord knows Pepper is tired of feeding you. I’m surprised she hasn’t poisoned you yet.” She turned her back and got in the car. Tony laughed a bit as he hugged Pepper and Happy too. They were happy to have him back but a bit upset they wouldn’t be working for (y/n) anymore apparently she was the better boss. 

Once the reunion was done and Tony was filled in on what happened while he was gone everyone piled into the car and Tony began firing off orders. He wanted a Press conference and a cheese Burger immediately just about everyone scolded him for not going to a hospital first but he would not budge. A Burger and Press conference nothing else. Maybe a Happy meal and ice cream for (y/n) but nothing else. 

And that’s how (Y/n) found herself sitting next to her father as she happily ate fries only half paying attention. She only really started paying attention as she heard the end of her father’s speech when he announced that Stark Industries would no longer be selling weapons everyone was in an uproar (Y/n) jumped up excitedly.

“REALLY, REALLY, REALLY”

“yes, really,” Tony said addressing his daughter and ignoring the press but they were listening in to the father-daughter conversation.

“No more hurting people?”

“no more hurting people. Now we’re going to help people.”  Obadiah Stane tried to step in and talk some sense into Tony but he gave him a nasty glare and held up a finger to tell him to stop. But apparently, that wasn’t warning enough because the man kept talking so he just straight up said “Shut the fuck”

The room fell silent.

“I am talking to my daughter who I haven’t seen in months. Do not interrupt me. I am My daughter’s for the next few days.” With that, he scooped (y/n) up in his arms and walked out Happy, Pepper, and Lillith following as his entourage. And while he told (y/n) this awesome story about how he made an iron Suit in the desert. By the end of their date, she has convinced him make her one too.

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[aenwoedbeannaa]

A Curse Meant to Be Broken || Part 6

Summary: You have made your decision--you will take the greatest of risks in the hope that it will save your life. However, to your horror, Geralt doesn’t seem so optimistic. 

Word Count: 2,698

A/N: I’m back, y’all! As part one of my WIP Week, here is the next chapter of one of my favorite WIPs. As always, thank you so much for reading, yada yada–kofi here, masterlist here, taglist here. Enjoy!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

Freedom & Destiny

You wake slowly, feeling like you’ve got a head stuffed with cotton. At first, your eyes don’t listen when you tell them to open—or rather, they protest strongly against it. You are, it seems, only able to blink them open for a few seconds before they flutter shut again, as if weighted down by lead.

On top of that, you feel different. Changed, somehow. Though, you can’t seem to put your finger on exactly what about you feels off. Aside from an overwhelming exhaustion, you don’t feel any pain. You stretch your fingers first, then your toes, as if to test that theory, but you’d been right. You are able to stretch your whole body without any pain, aside from the dull ache in your back, which you knew would not be going away until your body was mutated—changed enough to dispel the venom.

Sensing you stirring in your sleep, Geralt brushes his fingers across your face. You blink up at him, finding him staring down at you with tired eyes.

“You look like hell,” you inform him with a little grin, wanting to put him at ease. His face is still lined with worry, and it looks as if he hasn’t slept at all.

“How kind,” he responds, though his smile does not quite reach his eyes.

You frown, pushing yourself up on your elbows, “Did you sleep at all?”

“No.”

“Geralt!” You pout, even though the idea that he’d stayed awake all night watching over you was more than enough to melt your heart. Still, you didn’t need him worrying himself sick over you. You could handle it… You’d have to.

“Those potions can be deadly, Y/N,” he reminds you quite needlessly. As if you’d forgotten about that.

“Well, I’m alive,” you point out. Yes, you were alive, and you planned on keeping it that way. Everything about the mutagen you’d taken was unpleasant, from its horrid taste to the way that it burned down your throat and then out from your chest until your whole body felt like it was on fire. But, it was your only option, the only way you’d get to stay alive, and stay with Geralt. You’d drink a hundred more, a thousand more if you had to. No price was too great.

“And thank the gods for that,” Geralt says as he shifts so he can press a kiss to your lips, one hand gently cradling the side of your face. You sigh into the kiss, mouth opening for Geralt to explore, which he does eagerly.

Your body is already buzzing, somehow still pent up with need despite the effects of the mutagen you’d taken the night before. You push yourself against him, letting a hand slide down his sculpted chest, wanting to memorize every inch of him. You could get used to waking up this way.

You’ve only just begun sliding your hand up under his shirt to lift it over his head when he pulls back from the kiss and moves one hand, gripping your wrist to still your own. You sigh and blink up at him—you’re alone, no chance of anyone bothering you—why stop now? But, as if he can hear the thoughts in your head, she gives a slight shake of his own. No.

You pout, resigned. He just sighs and smiles down at you, the spark in his eyes telling you that he’d prefer not to stop either, but—

“You’ve got to eat something. We’ll go down to the kitchen.”

Your stomach turns at the idea of eating anything, especially when the last thing you’d consumed had made you feel like death itself, and you begin to protest, “I’m not hungry, Geralt.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says quickly, releasing your wrist and pushing himself up, swinging two large legs over the side of the bed. “You need to eat, or the mutagens won’t work.”

Of course, from the way that he says “won’t work,” you gather that he actually means “will be far more likely to kill you.” You groan and push yourself up, following suit and swinging your legs over the side of the bed, standing up carefully, more slowly that usual. You don’t want to risk blood rushing to your head and sending you into a heap on the floor—you don’t need him any more worried than he clearly already is.

Gingerly, you reach your arms up over your head and stretch, surprised at the lack of any discernible discomfort. If anything, you feel more flexible, stronger. Yes, the mutagen is definitely changing something, though you can’t exactly tell what. You resist the urge to pelt Geralt with questions about the strange liquid and what exactly it is doing to the cells in your body. It had certainly felt as if it were ripping them clean apart; but you know there must be more to it than that. Perhaps, as quickly as it had seemed to rip them apart and scramble them, it was putting them back together—now changed, maybe better somehow. That was the point, after all, wasn’t it?

Once you are confident in your ability to walk without making a complete fool of yourself, you walk over the the wardrobe. Inside, you find a few of your own clothes—most of which were rather dirty after all those days of traveling—and some new ones that must have been scrounged up from around Kaer Morhen. As you grab a pair of breeches and a tunic, your mind wanders.

When was the last time there were new Witchers being taught here? How many had there been? Were these close from some of them? Young men who spent their days training for a job that would most certainly kill them in the end would explain how they happened to have clothing that was relatively the right size.

Once you’ve dressed, you turn around to face Geralt, attempting a nonchalant smile despite the fact that your nerves are fraying. You know you want to do this—you just with there was some certainty in it. The only thing that seems relatively certain to happen, regardless of the choice you make, is that you may die. But you can’t bear to think about the unfairness of all that just now, so you do what you always have and push the thoughts down, down beneath every other thought you can conjure up.

“Ready?” Geralt asks.

You nod firmly and follow him to the door.

* * *

“How do I feel?” You repeat the old Witcher’s question back to him as if you hadn’t heard it the first time. “I… I mean, I guess I just feel… different.”

They’d given you a second potion after breakfast, which had seemed like a horrible idea. It took all of your self-control not to gag and empty the contents of your stomach back onto the large wooden table. However, after a few anxious minutes passed, the burning sensation down the back of your throat faded away, leaving no pain in its wake.

It did, however, leave you with your muscles tingling—aching for movement. But, despite the increased energy, you felt the strange sensation of a slowed pulse. At first, it only reminded you of the slowed pulse of the fever you’d had as a child. Some kind of bacteria or virus, you don’t remember what the healers had called it. You only remember the dazed feeling and the terrifying realization that your heartbeat was slowing down; much too slow to sustain human life. But, you’d survived that. And now, you supposed, the slowed heart rate was simply part of you—if you lived, that is.

“Explain what you mean by different,” Visimir pulls you from your thoughts.

You glance up at him, fingers drumming on the table, “I feel like I could run a mile, or… I don’t know, climb the gods-damned walls or something.” It is the only explanation you can think of that makes any sense. “And my heart,” you quickly add, “It’s beating slowly.”

“Hmm,” the gray-haired man says, cocking his head to the side and allowing a small smile to appear for the first time, “It seems you’ve brought me the perfect candidate for a Witcheress, Geralt.”

Geralt smiles, but it is strained, as if he’s got less faith than the old man. You decide that, at least in this particular instance, you’d side with the one who’d been overseeing training and mutations for longer than anyone you know has been alive.

“You know there’s no such thing as a perfect candidate,” Geralt says, somewhat bitterly.

“That’s right enough,” Visimir mused. His eyes looked distant; lost in thought. But, unlike Geralt’s gaze, which seemed to be filled more with guilt and fear than anything else, the older Witcher’s eyes were just that—thoughtful. He was thinking things though, of course, but he was not writing this all off as a hopeless situation, which was more than you could say for most of them.

Once again, you feel your temper beginning to flare, the way everyone seems to talk about you as if you aren’t right there in the room with them.

Hearing the exaggerated huff of air you let out, Visimir turns his attention back to you, “We discovered… relatively recently, that there are certain people whose genetic makeup makes them better suited to undergoing the mutations than others,” he explains. “People like Geralt and, apparently, you.”

That last sentence knocks the breath out of you and you turn to look at Geralt, questioning. He hadn’t told you about that particular detail. Though, you suppose, it wasn’t really necessary information.

“Me?” you question, turning back to Visimir after failing to obtain the answer you wanted out of Geralt.

“Humans do not usually respond to mutagens the way that you did,” he explains, “You drank it last evening, yet here you are, walking around on your own the next morning.”

“How long does it usually take?”

“Assuming they live, a few days.”

The matter of fact way in which he says it would ordinarily be off-putting, but after learning about the poisoned blood in your veins, you were quickly recovering from any shock due to imminent danger. It just… Did not seem like something that was taken overly seriously here at Kaer Morhen. Which, you assume, is better than the alternative.

“Don’t fill her head with crazy ideas just because she lived, Visimir.” The hint of venom in Geralt’s voice knocks you off-balance slightly. You felt like you were going to get whiplash listening to the two of them going back and forth. You hardly had time to digest this new information from Visimir before Geralt seemed to quash any glimmer of hope it gave you.

“You know I don’t bother with crazy ideas, Gerlt,” Visimir says in the same calm way he seems to say just about everything.

“She helped kill a Noonwraith, and she drank a mutagen and didn’t die,” Geralt says, and you feel your stomach turn over on itself in disgust at his tone of voice, “And you actually think that makes her a Witcher?”

Your hands curl into fists, nails biting at the skin of your palms. You want to scream, but you manage to keep your voice calm, almost deathly so, as you look at him, “Wasn’t that the whole point of bringing me here?”

“I brought you here to save your life, not end it.” You can see concern in his eyes, but it hardly matters now—all you can hear is the tone he’d just used, the one that made it seem as if he regretted everything. The one that made it clear that he did not think you’d be capable of becoming a Witcher.

Fuck. You are angry with yourself for believing that he was different—for believing that he actually believed that you were something more than a weak country girl who needed saving and couldn’t possibly be anything beyond that.

Perhaps you had been too trusting of him—maybe he had only taken you away from Stephen and that shit town so that he could make you his own. You had let your guard down, and you had been taken for a fool. You’d promised yourself that you’d never let that happen, but it’d been too easy to fall for it. You’d wanted to fall for it.

Of course, you also recognized that it could quite well be that he was worried—that he had no faith that you’d actually be able to survive. Though, that didn’t make it hurt any less. You had thought that if anyone believed in you, it would have been him.

You hardly register what is being said around you as you wrack your brain for memories of the last weeks, trying to pick out moments where he might have given away this clearly obvious fact. You felt far away, disconnected from the voices of Geralt and Visimir sitting with you.

Still, you manage to pull yourself out of your thoughts to speak again.

“You didn’t have to bring me here,” you finally speak. You are surprised by how calm you still sound—surprised, and almost terrified. You sound far too measured, far too calculated. It has been so long since you’ve spoken like this that you managed to forget what it even felt like. “If you were so convinced that I was dead, you could’ve just left me back there.”

“Y/N,” he cuts in, eyes wide, “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“It was pretty obvious what you meant,” you say through your teeth.

“That I don’t want you to die?” He asks, frustration in his voice.

“That you think me doing anything worthwhile is impossible,” you hiss.

Visimir, who had fallen silent, clears his throat before speaking, “This isn’t the time.”

Both of you snap your heads in Visimi’s direction, but several moments of silence pass before either of you manage to say anything.

“I’m doing it,” you assert before Geralt has time to say anything. Though, you suppose, it isn’t exactly something that he can argue against anyway. Regardless of his beliefs, this is the only way that you won’t die. Still, you feel the need to make sure that you get your point across first.

This is your choice—your decision—and it has nothing to do with him.

Geralt remains silent as you reach out a hand to take the small vial that Visimir has produced from one of the many pockets of his old, faded Witcher’s armor.

He is silent as you pop the cork from the small glass tube and drink it, tossing your head back and swallowing quickly.

He is silent as you stand up, suddenly with the same feline grace you’ve noticed in him, and leave the table.

Your first thought is to head back to your room—you vaguely remember the stone hallways and corridors that he’d led you through earlier this morning—but you decide against it. You feel a strange pulsing in your veins, a strange urge to run and run until your body gives out. So, you head from the hall and through the large doors, down the steps, and then push open the heavy wooden door that leads outside into the courtyard—into a land full of grass and trees, sheltered by the nearby mountains.

You take a few deep, calming breaths, and then you run.

You run straight for the trees, your body somehow knowing where to step and where to avoid. Branches crack beneath your feet, but you manage to avoid any of the low hanging branches that ordinarily would have scraped your face and arms. There is something beautifully natural about this—a strange feeling that this was what you were meant to be all along. Perhaps destiny was real; perhaps it was kinder to some than to others. Perhaps you were one of the lucky few.

And, despite the anger and sadness and guilt surrounding the fight you’d had with Geralt, you smile as your legs propel you forward along a trail you hadn’t even known existed. For the first time in your life, you feel free.

[daughterofelros]

Hey so I saw your post about Alex and his resilience and how he's rate on a scale and how this relates to his childhood trauma etc and was really curious to know/understand more on the topic and how it manifests with alex but also you mentioned rosa? And the other characters too. If you're happy to elaborate otherwise no worries of course. What interpretations do you make from what we've seen on screen? ☺

Oh my gosh Nonnie, thank you for the juicy, delicious ask!

The Connor-Davidson Resilience Scale (Commonly abbreviated to CD-RISC) measures, in its full version, 25 different statements. Some of the ones that stand out to me in thinking about a bunch of the RNM characters include being able to adapt and change, having close and secure relationships, able to make unpopular/difficult decisions, know where to get help, but they’re all pretty important.

As established in my earlier assessment, Alex Manes = Super Resilient, and that definitely has an effect on the ways he handles the traumas he’s faced over his life.

Let me dive into Rosa little bit more first— Rosa, despite not enduring the specific type of abuse that Alex and Michael did as kids, might actually score in a lower percentile than either of those characters on the resilience scale. Part of this is because adverse childhood experiences, though cumulative, aren’t exactly ranked and scaled. Trauma impacts people differently, and you can’t really say whether growing up feeling abandoned by an alcoholic parent in an otherwise supportive context, or never having a safe parental figure, or having a parent die will impact someone “worse”—they’re all adversity, and they all have an impact on our health and capacity for resilience. (Also, inequality isn’t a fixed experience in our brains—for more reading on how weird our brains are in this regard, check out “The Broken Ladder: How Inequality Affects the Way We Think, Live, and Die”  by Keith B Payne).So Rosa definitely has adverse childhood experiences that impact her relationships. At the point when we’re first introduced to her, she’s probably in about the worst place she could be there—Her friendships are being proven to be based on what drugs she can score, her relationship with her mother is shredded, and she’s just learned that Arturo isn’t her father. Even though Arturo’s love and support for her wouldn’t budge an inch, she feels separated from the most supportive relationship in her life, and she’s spiraling. She struggles to adapt, her coping mechanisms mess with her brain chemistry where she’s already contending with dopamine issues due to the mental illness she’s battling , and it’s pretty clear that she doesn’t have a strong read on where to get help (Though she’s willing to accept it—Valenti’s help getting clean, having met once with a therapist, leaning into her artwork).  Pressure doesn’t make her think very clearly, and she doesn’t seem like she takes high levels of pride in her achievements, or trust that she can achieve her goals if she works for them. Traumas are going to hit her hard. They’re not going to roll off her back easily. When she comes back to life, she gets a partial reset button, and handles some big trauma pretty well…but she also is terrified of messing it up, and breaks down if anything gets derailed (see: “I Ruined my Miracle”). I’d say she’s doing a great job coping with what she’s got…but her resilience score isn’t the highest. Things hit her hard.

Let’s look at Michael then. He’s got every reason why his resilience score might not be high. He’s dealt with so damn much. But the thing that’s helped him get through is that his resilience score actually seems like it would be pretty well up there. He doesn’t have good parental figure relationships (understatement of the year)—But he’s got a couple of relationships (Max and Isobel) that won’t abandon him, no matter how he pushes, even when everything is burning around them. Michael clearly believes that working toward goals means he can achieve them. He’s been trying to build the spaceship to take him back home since he was, like, eight. That’s goal-oriented right there! He’s not going to score well in the “getting help” vector at all, but he does work extremely well under pressure (his genius increases when he’s pissed off). Michael also clearly believes that he can deal with whatever comes his way, he ultimately doesn’t give up when things look hopeless (alien pacemaker in 7 hours), and I’d bet my bottom dollar that he would agree that coping with stress has made him stronger. He’d probably rank himself pretty high on the “Can make difficult or unpopular decisions” factor—choosing to take the blame and protect Isobel, volunteering to be the alien who gets turned into the authorities…there are flaws in his reasoning on the last one, and definitely some internalized feelings of his life not being as important…but he shows a clear propensity for being willing to make unspeakably challenging decisions. He probably won’t rank high in the “Pride in my achievements” vector, and that hits up against the things he’s internalized from the ACES he’s had piled on him—from childhood abuse and abandonment right up to Jesse Manes, crippling injury, and covering up murders. His resilience is high, but he’s coping with a lot, and he doesn’t have as many tools to keep coping as, say, Alex does.  We can also see that there’s a pretty debilitating impact when he shifts to the knowledge that his Mom was alive and he watched her die… and then starts to question why she didn’t take him out of the Pod to be with her in 1947. He starts to have thoughts about abandonment that he hadn’t had when he just thought his Mom died in the crash…and that paired with Max’s death really, really throws him. He rejects connections that have ever been tied up in pain and abandonment, and we see him spiraling. His resilience definitely dips when those circumstances occur…and as we see him trust in some of his relationships again, we see his ability to cope return as well. With the right tools and support, he can actually do a lot of healing yet too.

Isobel probably scores pretty high on the scale at the beginning of season 1. She’s had some adverse childhood experiences from waking up from the pods, from being attacked in the desert as a teen., but she’s made it through all of that without a ton of trauma responses (given that the blackouts turned out to be mind control) She’s confident in her goals, her relationships, she’s strong in her decision-making, she believes she’s built herself a good life. She has a supportive family, Max is her person, she’s got Michael, and her husband is amazingly supportive. We don’t see much in the way of friends, but she’s got a Boss-Ass support structure. Until she realizes she doesn’t. That Noah is a thread of rot through all of it, and she’s been deceived on an inconceivable level. And then she loses Max.

Isobel at the beginning of Season 2 would fill this assessment out very, very differently. And the sharp drop in some of the factors of her resilience really make her struggle. Her confidence in herself as a strong person is deeply under review, and she’s leaning a little hard into the god-like powers aspect of herself. Knocking Rosa out with a book is a really alarming manifestation of how her reasoning and coping skills are out of alignment. She’d probably use it as evidence for her ability to make unpopular decisions though. She’d score really high in the vector regardless though—because choosing to terminate a pregnancy in a town like Roswell…that takes so damn much resilience, ability to make decisions under pressure, etc.  She’s still got the resilience that comes from her goal setting and working for things she values though—her training with her powers shows that pretty clearly.

Isobel definitely isn’t going to score high in the “Knows where to get help” vector though. She refuses therapy, refuses help from family, doesn’t seek medical assistance, and almost dies as a result of her abortion, when she would have had all kinds of support from people around her if she’d been able to reach out. Even when she’s struggling, she has a history of resilience to draw on though.

Let’s talk Cam for a moment—we don’t have a lot of info on her childhood, but Cam actually seems to be a character with high scores across the board—for only having 2 years in Roswell, she forms connections pretty readily, goes to people for help, is focused on goals, takes pride in her work. She handles most things with aplomb, and isn’t easily manipulated. Jesse Manes has to work pretty hard on her to get her to bat an eyelash. That’s particularly interesting given the relationship that resilience has in attenuating depression effects and PTSD effects on people with combat experience.

Max is hard to talk about, because we don’t know a lot about where he is this season, and what the trauma of dying and being kept in a pod in constant pain is going to do to him. He seems reasonably able to deal with the hardships he’s faced prior to this, shows a propensity to be able to make unpopular decisions, and is probably the character who is most consistently and intentionally shown investing in relationships. I’d imagine that his resistance score is at least in the middling percentiles. Max is also pretty much the character it’s hardest to wrap my brain around when I’m writing, so that’s why I think I struggle in guessing how he’d assess himself here too.

Kyle is so interesting, because he’s a character who seems to know himself really well, and has maybe also changed the most over 10 years. Kyle these days really values and invests in his relationships—His Mom, Liz, rebuilding a friendship with Alex, trusting Cam. He’s dedicated in pursuing goals, takes pride in his accomplishments, has a reasonably good idea of where to seek help, works well under pressure. He’s had a lot of advantages in life, and while med school definitely tests his resilience and endurance, I don’t know how much his resilience has had to help him get through trauma before this.  I do know that the scene where he almost buys a gun is one of my favorites, because it shows him trying to cope with crisis and handle a lot of stress. I don’t think we’ve seen a full enough arc of how he’s coping yet though—I think there’s more to come.

Maria DeLuca strikes me as scoring relatively high on resilience assessments (or at least the high end of mid-to-upper range). She’s caring for a mother with dementia, runs a business, and deals with racism and misogyny in a town like Roswell, which it’s well-established is renowned for both of those things. Maria has really strong relationships—her Mother is a huge priority, her friends matter deeply to her (fandom drama over ships aside, and whether Alex should forgive her for dating Michael or not, Maria in canon expresses a lot of care for her friends, worries if she’s hurt them, and forgives when she’s hurt herself). She’s close with Arturo, she visits Rosa’s grave once a month. She does a lot of giving, not a lot of getting back, and feels pretty shaken when she’s deceived, but she still has a lot of stable relationships to lean into. She’s…not great at asking for help, or letting on that she needs it- she tries to go everything alone. But she also problem-solves, she pursues her goals, she believes that you get what you work for  (“No one ever accused me of a lack of hustle”),  and she doesn’t give up when she feels hopeless.  She’s probably middle of the road on handling unpleasant feelings—some she handles well, some she reacts intensely to, some she buries. It seems like when a crisis happens, she’s conflicted and struggling in the moment, but processes through things in a reasonably short time. I’d say one of the places that she doesn’t score that high on is the ability to adapt to change. She gets there eventually, but that’s where she struggles the most. The thing is, because of what she’s faced with in daily life, she’s constantly utilizing her resilience. It’s something she leans on all the time.

Liz is brilliant, and amazing, and it’s kind of hard for me to parse this out for her. Strong relationships, she’s got those. She’s great at adapting, great at problem-solving and pursuing her goals. She sees herself as strong, faces challenges, sees the humor in things, bounces back from setbacks, honestly, she would score pretty well in every category. I think there’s pretty clear evidence that with all the things she’s accomplished and all the things she’s endured, Liz Ortecho is a wellspring of resilience, and it definitely attenuates the long-term negative effects she might face from her experiences. She faces some of the same adverse childhood experiences that her sister does, but reacts very differently. Their resilience—despite the similarity of their contexts for nurture—differs substantially…and that’s even before we add in the trauma of Rosa’s death that Liz contends with.

Overall, the characters on this show are a resilient bunch. I’m watching some other shows right now as I make masks for my community, and it strikes me that most of the RNM characters would score higher on the CD-RISC assessment than the characters on those other TV shows (many of whom hold a relatively large amount of privilege).

But notably, the characters on RNM strike me as far more like the people who move through my community every day. Overwhelmingly, my community is comprised of queer people, people of color, homeless and unaccompanied youth, people dealing with mental health issues, sexual assault survivors, abuse survivors, folks with PTSD and DID, and people who would be considered low-socioeconomic status. My community is made up almost entirely of people who deal with adverse experiences, and had intense adverse childhood experiences. Resilience is the norm. Resilience ends up being a key word in almost every letter of recommendation I write. And one of the reasons I love RNM so much is that the characters are brought to life quite realistically. There’s a lot of different truths from experience, and a lot of different paths to similar truth. But overwhelmingly, their responses to these impossible events are grounded in realistic depictions. When it comes to character development, this might just be some of the best writing I’ve ever seen on TV. And for a show that’s solidly in the sci-fi realm…it’s possibly the most realistic show I’ve ever seen.

[bestnoncannonship]

Alright..I'mma get in on this VC fancasting debate.

As a director, I often have a LOT of opinions on people's casting decisions. A LOT. (Someday, I'll write a novella on Ken Brannaugh's casting.) So as I see a LOT of fancasts casts based on how people look and few based on whether or not the actor can likely handle the role, I'mma throw my hat in the ring. (Warning....the more I write the less technical and more shitposty this is gonna get!) So here you go! The Vampire Chronicles series if I got to cast and direct it!!

The Brat Prince:

Most importantly....we gotta get us a Lestat. And the choice is clear:

Evan Williams: this fabulous shitposting aesthetic trash is as close to the one and only Vampire Lestat as we are gonna get on this plane of existance. He is all charm and quite light in his loafers and a complete mess.......but most importantly, he has proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is able to play a character that does inexplicable and morally reprehensible things while still being read as highly sympathetic, likable, and even a hero. That's what I worry about most with Lestat. He really is a very terrible person who doesn't learn or face too many consequences. And he has to be very very very sympathetic. Not just "Oh I Stan that villain" likeable.....but a true hero. And it takes a very. Special. Actor. To pull that shit off. And this is it. This is the guy. He was hired to play an Iago-esque gay villain type in Versailles, STOLE THE SHOW OUT FROM UNDER GEORGE BLAGDEN (no mean feat as Blaggy was giving a hell of a performance) and made his character a beloved icon. Yeah....I trust him to lead a show. I trust him to be Lestat.

Nicholas L'enfant:

Okay not gonna lie I struggled with this one. There was someone else I wanted to see in this role....but I decided he was better employed elsewhere. And this is who I ended up with:

Yep. George Blagden. See...in the grand scheme of things Nikki is a very low-screentime role that has a LOT of impact on the story. And who better to trust with low screentime that the god of grantaires, who took a few small shots and lines and GAVE US A FULLY CHARACTERIZED GRANTAIRE in the Les Mis film. He is very sweet faced, and easy to like, can make being an on screen depressive fascinating instead of dull and has proven time and time again that he is the master of the complete mental breakdown, complete with horrifying but tragic crazy eyes. Also.....he bears a strong enough physical resembles to.....

Louis!!!!:

Our beautiful depressed dark angel with a vampire eating disorder who has no self esteem and is still in love with his abuser needs nuance. He needs soul. And he needs a sweet and delicate beauty. And so:

Alexaner Vlahos!!! The soulful eyes!! The delicate bone structure!!! The slight tones of simmering resentment!!! The ability to play a character that could have become VERY one note VERY quickly with goregeous amounts of nuance and sympathy!!! Vlavla has quite the varied resume. Mordred. Phillipe. Romeo. Captain Hook. To put it lightly he has a LOT of range and the one through line is he is NEVER boring. He plays a lot of roles that could very quickly become boring and one note (Romeo? Captian snooze right there!). But every second he's on screen or stage he is so completely alive in whatever he is feeling. I TRUST him to keep the entirety of Louis's brooding nuanced and fascinating for an audience and to physically and facially convey Louis's very important internal monologue that we will not be able to hear because this version is going to be from Lestat's point of veiw. I toggled with the idea of making him Nikki for a while....but ended up with Louis for 2 reasons. 1) he doesn't need the scripted plot drama Nikki has written in to make a compelling character and 2) he and Williams share such beautiful chemistry. Whenever they're together, even off screen, their focus shifts so that they orbit each other like bianary stars and any director can see that that's something that should be explored and exploited to add demension to the Louis/Lestat relationship and justify why they keep coming back to each other.

(And so ends the Men of Versailles segment of my fancast. So sue me. There's some incredible actors there.)

Let's return with

Gabrielle De Lioncourt:

The incomparable Alex Kingston, lately of River Song fame, though I met her as Elizabeth Corday, and Doctor Corday is driving this casting choice. I wanted an actor who was an appropriate age to play Williams's mother cause we don't fuck with that women are "old" at 30 shit in this house. And she can carry off the kind of "I will not hesitate to kill a man" BDE that Gabrielle requires without trying, but she's also proven herself comfortable and competent with the level of CAMP that VC requires. I can see her easily showing up on set for a few scattered episodes, slipping easily into the verse, and nailing the kind of woman who can put Lestat in his place then run back off to the jungle. Also....that De Lioncourt hair!!!!!

Marius "Daddy" Romanus:

Yep. This fuck. I can hear it now.... "Why isn't he lessssaaaat??? He's so blonde and prettttyyyyy????" Well....mainly because....I ain't sure this lil fuck can run a show as a very despicable but likeable hero yet. He's admirable. A good actor. A great villain. But not a hero and not heroically likeable. Personally, I'm of the opinion that in 10 or 15 years he will have grown into the ability to play something as complex as Lestat with likability....but for now.....DAMN is he a creepy imperial thing. He's got that "My house, my rules" vibe down. He's preditory. He's distinguished. He is Marius. And he's go the best Roman coin profile I've ever seen.

Armand:

N/A

Ok. Controversial decision....but I want to see a complete unknown as Armand. Send casting out to cast a wide net, scour the world for the Botticelli death machine. But definitely don't pull him from the pool of already famous younguns. Because your Armand needs to be deep. Skilled. And primarily UNSPOILED by the school of child acting that is forced upon child actors. (I was a commercial kid and child stage actor. It was terrible.) Go out and get some twinky fresh faced raw talent so you get depth.

Claudia:

N/A

Big old ditto on what I said above about child actors. A nice doe eyed unknown, preferably without a stage mom.

AKASHA:

Yikes. So many amazing choices!!! How do you follow Aliyah??

With literal human perfection Gina Torres of course!!! Again....I wanted to go with an older woman. Someone who would be seen as an authority to all vampires. Someone god damnned goregeous. And someone who I find intimidating. Also, since I'm skewing a little tall with this cast (at least as TV actors go) I wanted someone who comfortably stands among and above most of them! She's a seasond tested actor, and certified badass. And we know she can steal a scene. Besides if she can look regal as a queen in that weirdass dress they gave her in the serenity movie she can pull off whatever monstrosity costumes comes up with to follow the Aliyah getup.

Khayman:

Don't @ me but....I have a LOT of feelings about Khayman. I love his particularly breed of immortal insanity. I love the way immortality drove him mad into a childlike enjoyment and curiosity. And I knew exactly who has to be casted to play that combination of intimidating ancient and innocent curiosity:

This is Howard Charles. He is capable of playing both an intimidating giant and a sweet soulful cinnamon roll at the same time. I cannot sing this man's praises enough. Am I scared of him? Do I want to hug him? Both? He's also one of the best scene SHARERS I've seen on screen in a long time and that's very important in a supporting role.

Maharet:

Just because Anne Rice doesn't know shit about Mesopotamia doesn't mean we have to follow her in that. I wanted to pull from Middle Eastern or Indian populations for her to best reflect the look of the region in a time that's roughly in line with the pre-dynastic Egyptian mish-mosh associated with Akasha.

So I'm gunning for Indira Varma. When I say this woman has timeless beauty.....I mean timeless. She's as prehistorically hot as she is today. And she's such a strong actress, I want to give her a role that isn't 50% sex scenes. She's got both the warmth and the commanding strength to play Maharet. I would ideally like to get a dancer to play Mekare....someone who can handle the physical interp of the role. Probably an Indian dancer to match Indira Varma.

David Talbot:

In the newly declared tradition of Doctors playing Talbot:

This is the only current Gif I could find of Sylvester McCoy. Known to many as the Seventh Doctor. And to many as Ratagast the Brown. He embodies that sort of huffy aging britishness that David projects, but has the over the top personality that can give us those hints of the vitality of David's youth. Basically I can see this man telling stories about hunting tigers in India. Then when he gets the hot young Raglan James Body:

Luke Pasqualino. Swarthy young troublemaker. But for all the youthful good looks, he proved that he was able to play grace and gravitas as D'artagnion in the final season of the BBC Musketeers. I'd love to give him a chance to explore that deeper part. I also trust his ability to match the energy of a cast, which he did repeatedly on musketeers, and portray both the impulsive self aggrandizing Lestat in the Raglan James body and to play the DarkAU Musketeer type that is Raglan James himself.

That's literally all the Gifs I can put in a post. I know I skipped Daniel......but that's because I have surprisingly few opinions on Daniel.......he's very much a vanilla audience connecting character. I'd almost like to see an unknown in that role....just to see what we a new face could make.

And thus ends my casting of the Vampire Chronicles!!

[whiplashed-maximoff]

Overwhelming Obstacles

Prompt: So basically reader is the new x-men recruit. She can heal people but not fully back to health. (that's another reason she's at the mansion is so she can learn to use her powers fully.) ... after apocalypse, reader helps heal peter's broken leg. (I know in the movie it healed in like a day, but for the sake of my head-cannon I'll just make up some bs like that Apocalypse did something weird to it or like idk) ... One night peter asks why isn't his leg healing faster and reader gets really upset/mad ... Peter apologizes and tells her that she'll get it one day and admits he likes her and she admits too. there's just a lot of fluff and cute relationship stuff. Requested By: @captain-maaarvel Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader Word Count: 2,182 Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, mentions of blood A/N: Okay first off sorry I shortened up the request for the prompt section I didn’t want it to take up a whole bunch of room and stuff (God bless at how detailed it is tho like y e s), second, this was really fun to write, and actually turned out much longer than I expected it would!

Overwhelming. That was the word you had chosen to describe your first week or so in the mansion.

   Chaotic didn't even begin to describe it; so much had happened in such a short span that you were having trouble keeping it all straight in your head. As the newest X-Men recruit, you had expected your healing powers would be tested, but not on your first day, and certainly not on an actual hurt person. It had been nerve wracking, even though you had known it was just a few small gashes and that you could heal those no problem. It was one thing to heal yourself, but it was something else to heal someone else while others watched.

   Outside of that, you hadn't had to use your powers again - you told the professor that you only knew how to heal basic gashes and scrapes, despite having known about your powers for a couple of years. It was hard to obtain the level of focus it took to heal anything outside of basic cuts, and you knew you would need training before you were able to do anything more. Hence, your presence in the mansion. But having to use your abilities on someone on your first day was the least of the reasons as to why your first week was chaos. The main reason was tall, with silver hair, super speed, and a ridiculously shit-eating sense of humor.

   Peter Maximoff.

   It was impossible to live in the mansion and not meet Peter, at least, if Peter wanted to know you. He was everywhere all the time, always busy with something, whether it was video games, pranks, or actual work. It was Peter who's wounds you healed your first day in the mansion, and since then it was as if he had made it his mission to befriend you. Not that you minded, of course. You didn't know anyone else in the mansion besides the professor, and Peter seemed as good a place as any to start making friends. He was just a handful. It was hard to keep up with him, most of the time, but if anyone asked you would definitely tell them it was worth it.

   In your first week alone after meeting Peter, you had participated in three different pranks - all on Scott, who you met shortly after the first prank - as well as a wild trip to the mall and an… explosive... incident in Chemistry class that you had no desire to relive. You didn't really regret any of it, though, and between Peter and your classes you managed to cultivate a group of friends in Scott, Jean, Kurt, and even Hank. Peter quickly became your best friend, however, and you spent most of your time with him.

   Over the next few months, you began to learn to control your power better, to learn to focus in on the problem and use your powers to fix it. It took closer to a year to figure out human anatomy and apply it to what you were doing. You found that flesh wounds were easier; you could reach out and feel the way a person's blood worked and how their tissue connected and use that to knit up deep gashes and bullet wounds and things like that. Organs and bones were harder, more complicated, and you still had trouble with mending anything terribly complex, but it was progress.

   Eventually, as you got better, you got called in more and more by the professor to help keep mutants alive while they were transported to a hospital. You had been able to help a few, keep them alive. Most of those had lived. But there were others, people you couldn't help, couldn't save, and those people haunted your sleep.

If only I'd been better, you thought, if only I could control my powers better.

   Some part of you knew that that train of thought was self-destructive, but you fell into it anyway. You beat yourself up after each failure, pushing yourself to work hard, be better. You threw yourself into your studies, so much so that it was starting to affect your health a bit, but you didn't care. At least, not at first. Not until Peter became your saving grace.

   He kept you sane, made sure you took breaks, made you eat. He made sure he told you that nothing would get better if you overworked yourself. You apologized all the time, thanking him for keeping you on track and healthy. It was a wonder Peter didn't just give up, and you constantly wondered why he kept putting up with the mess that was your mind. You’d even felt yourself falling in love with him, though you didn’t want to admit it to yourself. It was all going well, overall. You were getting better, little by little, slowly gaining confidence in your abilities and figuring out how to do more and more with your powers.

   Then came Apocalypse.

   You had been absolutely, positively, overwhelmingly overwhelmed when everyone came back from the battle and you saw their injuries. Having been left behind when the others were taken, you had plenty of time to worry about everyone, especially about Peter. Not that any of them were defenseless, it's just that you had a vague idea of what they were facing, and you didn’t want any of them to be hurt. Although you were fairly sure this was a futile hope, you could still cross your fingers and wish. Those hopes and wishes had been dashed when your friends returned to the decimated mansion.

   Most had scrapes, a dislocated joint here and there, a healthy dose of trauma, and in one specific case, a diagnosis of almost death - you thanked the heavens that you weren’t put in charge of that - but Peter was different. Normally, Peter’s injuries healed fairly quickly due to his abilities, but whatever Apocalypse had done when he broke Peter’s leg had rendered his abilities useless in this case. This left you with the job of trying to repair it. You’d never managed to repair broken bones before, but you did your best, coming to Peter’s room every day and working slowly but surely to repair small sections at a time.

   You hadn’t stayed that long the first time, only testing the waters with your power to try and heal a small section of the bones in his leg, but each day your visits got longer and longer due to Peter’s constant chatter. Not that you minded. He enjoyed your company, and you his, so you stayed longer and longer, working on slightly larger sections each time to delay leaving. Each time when you went to leave, Peter always whined, asking you to stay longer because he was lonely, and you always say no. Up until one night, about a week after your work began.

   It was later than usual, and between your exhaustion over the amount of energy you’d expended and Peter’s whining for you to stay, you caved and stretched out next to him in the bed. After that, it became a ritual. You would work on Peter’s leg and then stretch out in his bed, and the two of you would talk well into the night. A few days after this ritual began, however, you could feel Peter getting more restless than usual. It wasn’t hard to tell; Peter was used to being able to move all the time, and his restricted movement was causing all of his energy to get more and more pent up.

“What’s bugging you, Pete?”

“I was just… wondering why my leg isn’t healing faster. I mean, I thought-” He doesn’t get a chance to finish as you sit up suddenly in his bed, eyes blazing with anger as you train them on his face.

“Is my best not good enough for you? Do you think I’m not trying my fucking hardest, here? Do you even know how damned hard it is to figure out how to heal shit?” His eyes went wide and his mouth opened as if to say something, but you just kept going. “Do you know how much blood I have on my hands? How many people I couldn’t save because my abilities weren’t good enough? Do you understand how fucking hard that is on me to know I could have done more if I was better at controlling my abilities? I’m doing the best I can, alright?” You draw your knees to your chest, resting your chin on your knees, snorting softly. “How ironic that I have the ability to heal others, yet I have all this emotional shit inside me that I can’t heal.”

“Y/N,” Peter’s voice was soft as he said your name, and you felt the bed shift and Peter pushed himself up to a sitting position. “I’m so sorry.” You didn’t bother to look over at him, you didn’t want to.

“I’ll never be able to use my powers to their full potential,” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“Y/N! That’s not true! Didn’t you just say it was hard to try and control your power? You’ll get it one day-”

“When?” You open your eyes, your head whirling to look at him. “When? Because it’s been months since I started learning how to control my powers, and I can barely heal your broken leg. It’s been over a week and I’ve gotten, what? Barely halfway done? What bullshit.”

“Everyone learns at their own pace,” Peter says softly, “I’m sorry for making it sound like I didn’t think you were good enough, I’m just so used to my powers helping everything heal quickly and… well. I’m sorry.” A silence stretches between the two of you for a long moment before you finally open your mouth to respond.

“I’m sorry I snapped.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, I was the one being insensitive. You’re doing the best you can, and I got impatient and made it sound like I was insulting your competency, which isn’t what I meant to do. I’m just frustrated.”

“I know you are, Pete, I’m just… sick of not being able to do as much as I know I could,” you mutter, resting your head back on your knees.

“You’ll get there, Y/N.” You could feel his eyes on you, and you took a deep breath.

“Will I? It certainly doesn’t feel like it.”

“You will,” he says firmly, and you turn your head a bit to look at him. “You will. You’ve already made loads of progress, and you’ll make loads more. It may take a while, but you’ll get there.”

“How do you know that?” You couldn’t possibly see yourself getting any better, being any more useful than a basic healer.

“Because I believe in you,” he muttered, leaning his head against your shoulder, “and I believe you can - and will - do it.”

“But why?” You looked over at him, desperate for an answer.

“Because I love you!” Both of you sat in silence for a moment, and you could tell the words had slipped from Peter’s lips, but they were out in the open now, and you had no idea what to say. Peter sat up straight, turning to look at you fully. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Oh,” you managed, your face flushing, “I- what?” You couldn’t process what he was saying, what he meant. It was Peter’s turned to flush now as he stumbled over his words.

“Well, I… I love you. A lot, actually.” There was a pause as you studied his face, unable to form words, and he watched you nervously. “Sorry, I can go. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot or make you uncomfortable.”

“Peter, this is your room.” He froze halfway out of trying to hastily shimmy out of bed. It wasn’t what you wanted to say, but it was all you could manage at the moment.

“Right, um, well I-” You took a deep breath, and then cut him off.

“I love you too, Peter,” you breathed, finally managing to say what you’d meant to say. You’d been harboring your feelings for a while, refusing to acknowledge them, until this moment when they came raging to the surface.  “I have for a while, I think.” Peter grinned, then scooted closer, draping himself in front of your feet.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, you fucking dork,” you say the words fondly, then stretch out your legs, laying them across Peter’s chest.

“I wasn't kidding, you know. I really do think you’re going to get better at healing. In fact, I think you’re going to be one of the greatest.”

“Flatterer,” you mumble, though the words fill you with warmth. You lay down on the bed again, and Peter, moving out from under your calves, moves up to wrap his arm around your waist.

“It’s the truth,” he whispers in your ear, “if anyone can, my love, its you.” You fell asleep wrapped in his arms, happier and with more hope in yourself than you had in a long time.

[ohforficsakelibrary]

L’appel du Vide

Chapter 2

Title: L’appel du Vide

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Pairing: Michael Langdon X OC

Rating: M overall, T this part, for language.

Warnings: Language, eventual smut, a bit of blood, and a fair deal of blasphemy.

Language: English

Chapter Length: 2.3K words

Summary: After learning who Michael really is, Cordelia appeals to an ancient figure for help. Slow-burn seduction ensues. Contains spoilers for AHS: Apocalypse.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for all of your interest in this and for all of your kind words! As always, unbeta’d, happy to fix any mistakes. Be warned, I’ve definitely taken some liberties with religious mythology here. This chapter (and the first) fits in to the two weeks before Cordelia administers the test of the Seven Wonders, and picks up right where my last chapter left off. 

~Miss Robichaux’s Academy~

“Can someone finally tell me what the fuck is going on?” Madison slammed her purse down on Cordelia’s gardening bench, making the terra cotta pots clink against each other.

“What is it? What happened?” Zoe shut the greenhouse door behind her, careful to ensure none of the girls had followed her.

“Who the fuck is that bitch?”

“Have care how you speak Madison,” Myrtle chided. “She’s the first of our kind.”

“Is she a ghost?” Queenie looked to the other girls, but found only a sea of confused faces.

“Oh no, my dear, she is very much alive.”

“How?”

“Wait, I’m lost, who are we talking about?” This from Zoe.

“Lilith,” Cordelia spoke up, looking each girl in the eye as she continued. “The first woman to walk the Earth. Made by the Creator, not of Adam’s rib, but from the very same clay. Adam’s first wife. Man’s equal.”

Cordelia began to pace circles around the group.

“They were both expected to be stewards of the His creation. In order to facilitate that duty, He gave them each a set of gifts. To Lilith he gave the powers of telekinesis, divination, transmutation, concilium, pyrokinesis, and vitalum vitalis.”

Cordelia smiled. “She was the very first witch. The gifts in our blood all started with her. And technically, she was also the very first Supreme.”

“But what about descensum?” Madison seemed genuinely interested.

“There wouldn’t have been a hell for her to go to,” Queenie unfolded her arms and braced her hands on the table.

“That’s right. Descensum, she learned after.”

“After what?” Zoe asked.

“After she was cast out of the Garden of Eden for refusing to lie beneath a man,” Myrtle interrupted. “She refused to submit to Adam, and as such, became the very first feminist, too.”

“That’s partially why, yes. God sent angels to bring Lilith back to the Garden, but she refused. The irony is, He was the one who gave her the free will to make that choice in the first place. Seeing He would get nowhere, He instead created Eve to be Adam’s perfect wife. Woman made of man. Subservient to him.”

“He neglected to give Eve the same free will,” Myrtle added.

“Lilith is officially my new hero,” Madison lit a fresh cigarette.

“You were calling her a bitch two seconds ago,” Queenie scoffed.

“Wait, you said her rebuttal of Adam was ‘partially why’ she was cast out of Eden,” Zoe had taken a seat on a stool, her hazel eyes wide with fascination. “What else happened?”

“She slept with the Archangel Samael.”

“Samael, as in the Devil?” Queenie whispered.

“Now she’s definitely my new hero.”

Cordelia ignored Madison and continued. “Yes. Samael was cast out of heaven some time later. While his exile wasn’t all because of Lilith, Samael sought revenge against God. Mostly for himself, but also in some small part for her.”

“Temptation, apples, snakes, and that whole pesky sin business ensued,” Myrtle gestured dismissively.

“Is that how she learned descensum?” Queenie asked.

“Some witch scholars believed Lilith manifested that power as a way to see her former lover one last time.”

“Ok, but if she was the first Supreme, how are you also the Supreme? How did anyone else become the Supreme without her dying? How is she even still alive? All that Adam and Eve shit was like, five hundred years ago.”

Queenie rolled her eyes hard.

“The timelines are hazy, but our scholars believe that she could be over six thousand years old.”

“Damn, I’ll take some of whatever moisturizer she’s using,” Madison quipped.

“No one’s asked her?” Zoe sat up.

“Darling, you never ask a lady her age. Let alone the first Supreme,” Myrtle cast a pointed look.

“Okay, but Madison still has a point,” Zoe continued. “How is she not the Supreme anymore?”

“Sometime around the fourteenth century, Lilith abdicated her role as Supreme.”

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Zoe whispered.

Myrtle lit a cigarette of her own. “No one knew. Until she did it. And no one has been able to do it since. By then, she had already been a witch for thousands of years. The texts say that she poured half of her power into a successor, an English woman of Druid descent. This is who we’ve come to know as the first modern Supreme. Lilith may not hold the title any longer, but that doesn’t make her any less powerful than any Supreme to walk the Earth since.”

“Modern Supreme?” Queenie asked.

“Lilith chose never to lead a coven. She feared what society would do to young women even rumored to associate with her, especially those with magical abilities.”

“Is her power what kept her alive?” Zoe chimed in.

“No,” Cordelia spoke up. “The Creator has always been a vengeful being. To punish Lilith for what she had done, God cursed her with a lust for blood, damning her to an existence that would cause pain to so many. And to drive His point home, He gave her everlasting life. So that she could never be free of her suffering—by natural causes or otherwise. Even by her own hand.”

“Wait so, vampires are a real thing now?” Madison’s eyes were wide.

“Girl, you have no idea…” Queenie crossed her arms.

“Well, not exactly. From our understanding, it’s more of a virus that causes a hunger for blood. None of that sunburn or sleeping in coffins nonsense.” Myrtle clarified. “No fangs either.”

“Claws instead…” Madison mumbled, remembering Lilith’s jewelry. Sharp golden talons running through a thick ruff of silver fur.

“And while the virus can give the infected a kind of limited immortality, it’s not what sustains her. God Himself made sure she would never find peace,” Cordelia finished.

“Heaven doesn’t want her, and God definitely ain’t sending her to Hell,” Queenie sighed.

Zoe didn’t realize that tears had slipped down her cheeks. “That’s such a terrible existence.”

“More than we could ever know, Zoe,” the Supreme agreed. “Lilith has been erased from the Bible only to be written into history as some kind of demon. She’s been described as a treacherous seductress who kills babies. A creature of the night who cavorts with dangerous animals. A Jezebel who exists to lead men astray. A selfish, cruel being.”

“If all of that had happened to me, I would be a selfish, cruel being that’s for fucking sure,” Madison magicked her cigarette butt away.

“But she isn’t.” Queenie looked up. “At least she doesn’t seem that way.”

“I don’t think she is either, Queenie. She’s hidden herself away for thousands of years, never making even so much as a ripple of disturbance in the world. But she was clever. She gave the first Supreme the ability to find her in times of crisis. That ability has been passed through succession ever since.”

“So, I guess this is a time of real crisis,” Queenie whispered.

“That boy?” Zoe asked.

“Our prophecies foretell of someone rising to power with abilities unmatched by any other. And among those abilities is the power to raise souls from Hell.”

“Okay, but what’s so bad about that?” Madison asked. “If Lilith is that old I’m sure she could do it too.”

“Lilith’s power was divinely given. It stems from the same light as ours. Even she can’t release souls from places of darkness.” Myrtle answered.

“For centuries, rumors have swirled that only a child of darkness would have that power,” Cordelia clarified.

“So, what are you saying, he’s the Antichrist or something?” Madison sat up.

“That’s what I fear.”

Queenie and Zoe visibly paled at the notion.

Under her breath, Madison whispered, “I still would…”

“A child of darkness would walk the Earth solely with the purpose of bringing about death and destruction on a scale the world has never seen. I fear that is what my vision showed.”

“The Apocalypse,” Myrtle whispered.

“And we sent her to the literal Antichrist because we need his blood?” Queenie sounded incredulous.

“I mean, who better than the OG vampire queen to bring back blood from your ex-boy toy’s demon son? It’s fucked up. I like it.”

“That’s a crude way of putting it, Madison, but I’m afraid the sentiment is the same,” Myrtle extinguished her cigarette in an empty drip tray.

“His father will protect him at any cost,” the Supreme continued. “He won’t let just anyone near the boy. But rumor has it that Lilith still holds sway over him. A soft spot that never quite calcified. He wouldn’t harm her. I’m not even sure if he can.”

“If he’s who we think, why would you agree to administer the test of the Seven Wonders?” Zoe sat up angrily. “And why didn’t you tell her?”

“Because I am the Supreme and I make that choice,” Cordelia locked eyes with Myrtle. “And I suspect she already knows. I have a plan, scared though I might be to carry it out. Lilith isn’t our only hope. But she’s an asset and I’d like to keep her on our side.”

“How do we know she won’t turn on us?” Queenie asked.

“We don’t. But like you said. I don’t think she’s selfish and cruel at all.”

~The Hawthorne School~

“Lilith?” Michael staggered back a step.

She answered in the affirmative without speaking a word.

In the flesh, the Creator’s most perfect mistake.

There’s reverence, sure. And something decidedly more, perverse tugging at the back of his brain. The first woman, created as an equal, who refused to lie beneath a man.

Who bedded his father while he was still an Archangel.

There’s a feeling running through his veins that he’s never quite felt before. He’s not sure how to give words to it, but it makes him want to run his fingers over her skin to see if she’s real. He’s spoken to his father, sure. But he had never been so close to someone so like himself before.

Tangible divinity.

He opted instead to pace slow circles around her, surveying as he dripped golden pools of water onto the marble floor. She’s unfurled the full presence of her power now. No need to hide herself anymore. It washed over him, more cleansing than the bathwater. He couldn’t hold on to a fleeting ounce of shyness or apprehension if he tried.

“I don’t get to speak with my father often,” he moves with purpose now. Gone is the boy who moments ago yearned for the security of woven cotton.

“Textbook absentee.” She quips, standing unafraid with both hands clasped behind her back. Michael smirks as he continues.

“But he comes to me in my dreams sometimes, telling stories of the past. He’s mentioned you. He says you’re strong. Courageous. Jealous. He calls you a woman so beautiful, he couldn’t have created better himself.” Michael stops in front of her and inhales, eyelids unconsciously fluttering shut as he does.

All of that power in the air.

The Devil’s child can’t help but drink it in.

Ask he speaks, she’s charting his every move. The shift in him from sharp, panicked breaths to deep, languid lungfuls. The fear with which he pulled back his hand. The way he’s fighting now to keep from reaching out. He’s two beings. One, a child cast into a new reality. The other a cocksure Cheshire cat.

And yet, he can’t quite figure out what makes him flip.

“He’s not lying about your beauty,” Michael murmurs thickly. “He says mortal men would kneel in worship at the very sight of you.”

“Do you believe everything your father tells you?”

Michael isn’t fully sure what he’s doing as he raises damp fingers to brush her cheek. As if his actions aren’t entirely his own.

Is this what desire feels like?

It burns.

Lilith stands still as a statue under the touch of his fingers, her expression a mixture of amusement and satisfaction.

“No,” he whispers with conviction. “But you,” he breathes her scent in like smoke, “he most certainly was not lying about you. Why are you here?”

She sees it only fit to feed his thoughts back to him.

“Curiosity.”

“I hear curiosity kills.”

“I hear satisfaction resurrects.”

Michael’s full lips split into a smile. “Is that what you want, Lilith? Satisfaction?” He surprises himself as the word spills from his lips.

“Resurrection.”

And just like that, she’s gone. His hand left hanging in empty air. 

~Miss Robichaux’s Academy~

Cordelia sat in her greenhouse in the early hours of the morning, flipping through a dusty book for answers she wouldn’t find.

A scratching sound at the door caused her to jump and send her powers outward, searching for a threat. Nothing. She opened the door to empty air and was just about to shut it before she felt something brush against her leg.

A bobcat affectionately wound itself around her ankles before dropping a note at Cordelia’s feet. She bent down to retrieve it and gave the animal a few pats before it became more concerned with a squirrel in the yard and sprinted off.

Cordelia closed the door and returned to her table before unfolding the paper. Elegant cursive curled across the page as fast as her eyes could scan it.

Your suspicions are well founded.

He is still fresh. It’s not yet my time.

Appeal to his naiveté. Trust your instincts.

He may pass the test, but he is no Supreme.

No sooner had she finished reading, than the note burned up in cold blue flame. 

Cordelia felt her shoulders sag in relief as a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Chapter 3

[lovemesomesurveys]

5,000 question survey series--part thirty-five

3301. When someone is 'crazy' why do we call them 'nuts' or 'fruitcakes'? Yeah, I don’t know how those sayings got started. I often wonder how a lot of our sayings and such got started.

3302. What's the dillio? *shrug* 3303. Where did the slang term 'dillio' come from? Isn’t it “dealio” as in, “what’s the deal” or “what’s going on?” 3304. How many even whole numbers are there between -5 and 5? 4. 3305. What words can you make useing only these letters: E N O? No, eon, on, one.

3306. What's the differance between foods that are low fat and foods that are lite? I feel like lite refers to lite everything and not just fat? I don’t know, I really don’t pay much attention to that. 3307. White or brown rise? I don’t like rice. 3308. Can you be content if you are physically uncomfortable? I can’t, no. 3309. What is the differance between discomfort and pain? Discomfort is more mild. 3310. What is the most uncomfortable thing you can think of? For me it’s being hot. That’s more like miserable than uncomfortable, but yeah. 3311. What do these names make you think of: britney spears? “Toxic.”

walt whitman? “I Sing the Body Electric.” buddah? A Buddah statue.

william shakespere? “To be or not to be, that is the question.” pablo picasso? His self-portrait and his paintings using shapes and the way he painted people.

adam ant? Not familiar with him. franz kafka? ^^^^ nietzche? ^^^^ madonna? “Like a virgin, touched for the very first time.” orson scott card? frieda kahlo? Her eyebrows. :X

god? Love, forgiveness, mercy. salvidor dali? The melting clocks painting.

david bowie? Labyrinth. jesus? Salvation.

lars ulrich? Metallica. jim henson? Muppets. 3312. What are your favorite games to play? I love board games. 3313. Are you quick to judge something as stupid just because you don't understand it? I’m guilty of that. 3314. Are you obnoxious to others? No. 3315. Do you feel superior to anyone? Absolutely not. 3316. Shouldn't people take a good look at themselves before they criticize others? Yes. 3317. Which is better and why: writing or saying obnoxious things about someone who isn't around to defent themselves or saying it straight to them? Which do YOU do more often? I know it’s best to speak up and say something if I had an issue with someone, but I tend to just not say anything at all. 3318. Do you appologize too often? Yes. I’m always quick to blame myself for everything 3319. Does your mind play tricks on you? Yes. 3320. Have you read (any of): the bible? the koran? the torah? the kama sutra? the satanic bible? 3321. Do you own any possetions that you hide from parents, friends, visitors? Old diaries and letters.

What? Well, they’re personal. 3322. Why does the cheese stand alone? I guess cause it smells or something. 3323. Do you watch any soaps? No. I find the acting and story lines just absolutely awful. 3324. Have you learned something new today?/ Stuff in the news. 3325. Do you believe in an 'oversoul' of all humanity? What? 3326. Have you invented your own style, just for you? It’s nothing unique.

3327. have you invented your own religion, just for you? No. 3328. What files have you recently downloaded? I don’t remember. 3329. Some people think little girls should be seen and not heard but I think: Uh, of course they should be heard. They have a voice and should be able to use it just like anyone else. 3330. Do you dance around a lot? No. 3331. Is the unexamined life worth living or not? What. 3332. What are you like when you're at your most beautiful? I never feel beautiful. 3333. What are you like when you are at your worst? I don’t even want to be around me. 3334. Why do you hide things about yourself?/ I just don’t feel comfortable talking about certain things or I’m sure how to talk about/express them. 3335. Why is anything 'too personal' to talk to others about? It just is. 3336. Why should we be embarressed, afraid, or appologetic for ANYTHING we think, say or do? I don’t know, that’s just how it is sometimes. 3337. Can true freedom exist in this world of doubt and guilt? Well, you can not let it weigh you down. 3338. What do you have no control over? Life. 3339. Do you own a vibrating pillow? No.

How about a vibrating back massager? No. 3340. Can you dance away your emotional pain? No. 3341. When you dance is it a celebration of life? I don’t dance unless you count a head bob and maybe a little arm/shoulder movement lol. 3342. When do you feel the most immortal? I don’t. 3343. Are you more of a painting, a poem or a song? I’m a sad song. 3344. Is lonliness a crowded room full of open hearts turned to stone? Blah. 3345. Is YOUR heart ever stone? I feel like my health, especially my mental health, has hardened me in some ways. :/ 3346. Are we alltogether all alone? No. 3347. Does life end in a happily ever after way? It depends on what you believe and where you go after you die. 3348. What's the warmest part of your body? Right now my entire body. It’s so hot in here. D: 3349. Are you more verbal or visual? Depends? 3350. What do you long for? For better days.

3351. True or false: When someone hates you it is because:

they're jealous of you? Not necessarily, but sometimes.

the things you say are frightening to them because what you say makes them think about things they would rather avoid thinking about? Perhaps.

they don't understand you? That can be a reason. 3352. True or false: When you hate someone it is because: I don’t hate anyone.

you're jealous of them? the things they say are frightening to you because what they say makes them think about things you would rather avoid thinking about? you don't understand them? 3353. Have you ever been fascinated by someone who hated you? I don’t know of anyone hating me. 3354. Since the human brain has defense mechanisms against feeling bad (meaning the brain lies to itself to avoid feeling bad about something it said or did) how can we ever know if we are truly being honest? Well mine must be broken cause I feel that all the time.

How do we know our brains are not tricking us into believeing we are good people when we aren't all good?/ Actually, I really hate the person I’ve become over these past few years and I pray it’s my brain making me think that and that it’s not really true. :/ 3355. How highly do you value innovation? I think it’s great?  3356. Is there a name where all the people you've ever met haveing that name had something in common with each other(ex. all the jens you've ever met had blue eyes)? Yeah, I definitely feel like there were a few examples of that, but of course I’m failing to think of any at the moment. 3357. Are you focused more outward or inward? Uhh. 3358. What is the most affectionate nickname you ever came up with for someone? I call my doggo a precious angel. lol. 3359. Are the questions STILL still interesting this deep into the survey? I guess interesting is the word for it. They’re.... something. Some are a bit out there. 3360. If someone else makes their desicions based on their intuition instead of on facts and proofs what do you think of that person? Sometimes our intuition about certain things is right. 3361. Do you trust your own intuition? Sometimes. 3362. Finish the phrase... danger is the: just keep: never trust: the way I live my life: don't change: maybe someday: 3363. Would you rather live in Frodo's world or Harry Potter's? Harry Potter. 3364. Do you believe that the dead are with us? Their memory is and we see and hear them around us in various things.

If yes in what form? ^^^^ 3365. Do you believe that those who haven't been born are with us? Like they died in the womb? Well, I believe in heaven and I believe that an unborn fetus would go there.

If yes, in what form? ^^^ 3366. Are you made of timid stuff? What. 3367. Is there anyone in this world who is not CRAZY? We’re all a little mad. 3368. What word becomes shorter when you add two letters to it? Short becomes shorter when you add “er.” 3369. Can you mashed potatoe? I never got what kind of dance the mashed potato is.

Can you do the twist? Nah. 3370. What does your family do for thanksgiving..or if you don't celebrate it what do you picture when you think of thanksgiving? We have a nice Thanksgiving dinner. 3371. What is your earliest memory? I have some memories from preschool. 3372. Have you ever taken an IQ test? Yeah. What do you think of those things? IQ is one of those things that’s difficult to really define. You be smart in different areas. I always think of that Albert Einstein quote that says, “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” 3373. How do you make 'fishcakes'? I don’t know. I’ve never had ‘em and I’ve never made them. I have no desire to either. 3374. Which is the better band..the offspring or the damned? The Offspring. 3375. Do you ever think about world destruction? No, not really. 3376. Do you think humans are becoming more robotic? Yes. I definitely feel that way. 3377. Do you think we'll ever be replaced by robots? Oh, it’s happening. 3378. What do you feel a part of? Hmm. 3379. Does it freak you out to know that yogurt is ALiVe?? It’s weird to think that there’s good bacteria for you. 3380. What current band d o you think is doing something particularly interesting or innovative? *shrug* 3381. Golf course, do you remember? Remember what?

3382. Which is more important, books and cleverness or friendship and bravery? Books and cleverness. 3383. If i promise to miss you, will you go away? You don’t gotta miss me. 3384. stool, ball, powder...Can you think of a 4th word that connects these three? Nope. 3385. Who's afraid of the big bad wolf? You. 3386. Why are blondes considered 'dumb'? I don’t know why that became a big joke. 3387. What's more important..intuitiveness/creativity or factual knowledge and practicallity? They all are. 3388. Who are the two worst terrorists you can think of? All terrorists are horrible. 3389. What is jello made of? Gelatin, which consists of collagen from animal skin, bones, and connective tissue. 3390. Pick a country: Sweden. What do you believe is wrong with that country? I don’t know. 3391. Do you have strong opinions? About some things. 3392. Do you do what it takes to stand up for those opinions? I generally keep to myself. 3393. Have you ever been to a rally, protest or demonstration? No.

If yes was it effective and in what ways? 3394. When people say, 'yeah it sucks but there's nothing I can do' do you believe them? Usually there’s something. 3395. Do you know what you can do to make this world a better place? No, I don’t.

Do you care? I care, but I really don’t know what I could do. I guess this relates to question 3394 and there is something I could do, but what? 3396. Why is peace so important anyway? Do you enjoy violence and hatred?

Why is freedom important? We should be able to make our own choices, but in doing so you also pick the consequences. People tend to overlook that last part. 3397. As long as you have your house and your family and you can go to the movies and the mall who cares about peace and freedom. Right? Uh, wrong. 3398. Do you try to avoid anything involving work? These past few years you could say that. 3399. If you are not actively wrking to stop the horrors and injustices of the world (war, hunger, poverty) than aren't you partially responsible for them? I can’t be responsible for everyone. Should we try and do what we can to help? Well, yes. We don’t have to, though. That goes along with that whole freedom thing, too. 3400. Are you in denial? I don’t think so.

[prompt-master]

Ice Ice Baby

Anon asked: hi! Ohmygosh, ive just read every single one of your bmc fics, I love them so much! If you’re not too busy, could I request a fic where Michael gets sick from falling in a cold lake or something? Thank you so much

Flattery…will get you everywhere my friend.

–

It was a fucking disaster. Maybe if Jeremy had listened to him for once, just once, in his damn life. But no, it was a different kind of mountain dew so of course it’d be ok! Don’t listen to Did-All-The-Necessary-Reach Michael Mell, why would you fucking do that?

And even worse? It was cold, unbearably so. Michael’s face felt numb and bitter even though he was running. He had a thick winter jacket one that he was struggling to put his hood up for, he didn’t have time to put on gloves, a scarf, or a hat. He just threw on a coat, some boots, and booked it out his front door. He was still in his Metroid pajamas, his numb fingers barely able to hit call on Jeremy’s contact. He cringed whenever the Bluetooth headphones he was wearing immediately went to voicemail. He wanted to throw his phone. What a dumbass.

Jeremy had messaged him not to long ago: can’t control it, at the hideout.

Fuck. Michael shouldn’t have left him alone. Michael didn’t even want to leave him alone. No it was because his mom so desperatly needed him to help out with the cooking. Now his friend was probably possessed and doing who knows what in the woods. The hideout refers to an old hangout spot the two used to go to in their middle school years. It was a dinky little wooden bridge surrounded by dead forest and a lake. During the winter they used to test fate and walk across the lake. Michael had almost forgotten all about it.

“You have reached the voicemail box of-”

“Fucking hell Jer”

Michael hissed at his hands, skin cracking in the cold. If it was this bad for him who was in a rush, he wondered what Jeremy was wearing, who wasn’t even in control? The SQUIP could be having Jeremy sitting in a pile of snow in nothing by a t-shirt and shorts.

Michael shoved his phone into his pocket, ducking into the woods along the memorized path he and Jer carved out years ago. Years before a stupid computer chip got in the way.

“Jeremy!”

Silence, aside from Michael’s harsh breathing and footsteps. He almost wanted to take his coat off from all the heat getting to him.

“Jer! Answer me!”

He neared the bridge now, grabbing onto the splintering railing and pulling himself up, the bridge twisting and creaking with his weight. He held himself over the edge of the bridge, arms shaking holding him up, as if he were about to throw up. God this was so much stress. He could barely breath from the cold and the running and the anxiety. He took a moment to collect hinself, hoping to hear his best friends voice. But he didn’t.

He lifted his head again, another gulp being pulled into his lungs, “Jeremy!”

His eyes scaled the white forest, looking for Jeremy. He ended up finding a trail of footprints that weren’t his own. More calculated and calm. He followed them, until he saw Jeremy staring at him from the ice, just below the bridge.

Michael almost dropped with relief, arching himself back over the edge, “Jer…who am I talking to? Please tell me it’s you pal cuz I am so not in the mood for stopping another technology take over.”

Jeremy’s expression was cold, he looked across the features of the bridge then back to Michael, “You ruined my plans before.”

Michael glared, clutching the Red in his inner coat pocket, “And you ruined Jeremy’s life.”

“I question your definition of ruined.” His tone was blunt, yet teasing, “I should be thanking you really.”

Michael didn’t like the sound of that, “…Why?”

“Well you told Jeremy the website you got all your…valuble SQUIP Intel from. And now, poof, all gone. Meaning the only threat left to SQUIPS…” his eyes trailed back up to Michael, unwavering.

“…What are you doing here though?”

A smirk crossed Jeremy’s face, he stepped back from the bridge, “luring you in of course!”

“Wha-”

The SQUIP could tell in an instant that the support of the bridge was weak, and with one throw of a rock the whole thing came tumbling down, dragging Michael down into ice with it.

With bitter cold instantly snapping and biting at his skin, Michael was thrown into a directionless heap in the water. Up or down was nothing to him, and the panic pounding in his chest did nothing to stop the chilling thought that he could die. The way his mind slowed down was so different from the highs he was used to, this was an uncomfortable numbing force that was pushing pressure against his eyes and sapping away all ability to move. He could hear nothing but a ringing noise, and the last thing he saw was a hand reaching out for him.

“Michael! Michael!”

The shock of seeing Michael drop through ice was enough to snap Jeremy back into control of his own body. He couldn’t believe what he was looking at it. He shook his numb hands, shaking from the static running through them, and stumbled over to the hole Michael disappeared into.

He took fearful gulps of air, “Oh god…oh man I don’t- what do I do?”

He ignored the SQUIP mocking him in the back of his head, and blindly reached his hand into the murky water, gasping at the sharp embrace like ants. He reached in until his cheek was pressed against the water and he felt something brush against his fingertips. He instantly latched onto the heavy mass and pulled Michael out of the water.

He gasped and held his completely numb arm to his chest, trying to calm his rising panic, “M…Michael…oh god Michael…!”

He ran over to Michael, scrambling to grab him. He was so incredibly cold. Jeremy almost went into a full panicked state when he grabbed onto Michael’s arms. He let out a dry sob, cried “shit..!” And rolled Michael onto his back. His head rolled dead to the side, eyes open a sliver only showing the whites.

“No..no please…oh fuck Michael please” he shook him by the shoulders, watching Michael’s cold face move with it.

Panic was setting more and more in now, holding onto his heart. In the corner of his eye he saw the SQUIP, standing over him and Michael with their cold eyes glowing down. They watched Jeremy lightly smack his friends face again and again, begging him to stay alive.

With a deep shaky breath Jeremy left his hand pressed against Michael’s face, his skin was so unnaturally cold and now he was laying in the snow-

“…Are you going to check if he’s breathing or are you just going to keep crying?”

Jeremy looked up at the SQUIP in shock, pure unblinking shock.

“Don’t get me wrong,” the SQUIP started, reading Jeremy’s mind, “I’m only helping because you just put your DNA all over him and I’d rather not have a host accused of murder.”

Jeremy pursed his lips together and held his hand over Michael’s face. He held his breath, nearly feeling faint until he recgoznied the warm breaths against his freezing skin. He nearly collapsed from relief, and laid on Michael’s chest, listening to the wheezing breaths he was pulling in.

He let himself feel suddenly exhausted, breathing out a “he’s okay…”

But he was still unconscious and numbingly cold. Pressing his hand against his face, Jeremy thought his hand was gonna stick to the skin. Michael’s head rolled limply, his mouth parted slighted. Jeremy pulled Michael closer to himself, wrapping his arms around him tightly. He looked up at the SQUIP and felt a furious anger and disgust, but held it down in favor of helping Michael. He needed him this time.

“Wise decision Jeremiah.”

Jeremy took a deep breath to calm himself, “What do I do? He’s…he’s so cold”

“You need to get him warmed up, but not too quickly. It would probably be ideal to just bring him to a hospital in a car”

Jeremy frowned, “…But I can’t drive”

“I can.”

It was a terrible idea and honestly Michael was going to kill him for it when he found out, but he lifted Michael into his back and dragged him all the way back to his house and into his cruiser. Thing is, Michael always keeps his keys on him. So not only was Jeremy illegally driving but he was illegally driving in a friends car. Maybe he should just call an ambulance- no no. His parents are home and he can’t wait out in the snow. He couldn’t deal with Mrs Mell right now, she’d probably stab him in the throat or something. After all it is entirely his fault.

Jeremy was tense, white knuckled and wide eyed. Every now and then he’d glance at Michael, shivering in the passenger seat, only to get scolded by the SQUIP.

“Eyes on the road” he kept saying.

But Michael looked awful. He’d stripped the boy of his hoodie, he couldn’t bring himself to take off Michael’s pants and he wasn’t wearing a shirt under the hoodie anyway. Melted snow dripped down his brow from his hair, he was so still and silent aside from thin breaths.

“Eyes on the road.”

But Michael looked awful-

“Eyes on the road.”

But Michael was dying right next to him and he was going to be too late.

“Eyes on the road Jeremy!” His hands lost control, turning the wheel sharply to the left. Jeremy felt his breath catch in his throat, eyes darting from Michael to the highbeams blinding him, suddenly aware of all the honking behind him. The car swerved back where it belonged, Jeremy had been drifting out of the lane.

Once he realized he was safe he slumped over, letting out a breath.

“Jeremy you are driving illegally and if you prefer not to be caught I suggest you pay more attention”

Jeremy glanced up, his hands were still being controlled by the SQUIP, “…Can you just…”

He never thought he’d ask the SQUIP for help twice in one day.

“Can you keep doing it like this?”

“…If I must. But keep your eyes on the road nonetheless, I can only see what you and other SQUIPS can see.”

Jeremy nodded, only sparing another quick glance at his friend.

“Please please hang in there Michael”

———– “How did this happen again?”

Jeremy looked at his feet, noticing how one of the floor tiles were the wrong color.

“We were…uh…messing around on the ice. Just being yknow, stupid.” He pulled at his sleeves, stretching them out.

“Son you’re plenty old enough to know how dangerous that is-”

“I know I know I’m really sorry can I just…see him again?”

The man sighed, “Fine, be more careful next time. He could have died”

Jeremy gave a low whisper, “I know.”

Stepping into the room Jeremy could see nothing but Michael, he had been in the hospital for a few hours now. He already looked better, warmer. Jeremy sat by his side with his gameboy out, hoping to be there when he woke up.

And he was. But the problem was Michael also had a fever.

Now that Michael wasn’t dying though he was allowed to go home despite the fever, they prescribed some fever reducers and sent him on his way.

Jeremy had his dad come and pick him up, he’d explain how he got here to Michael later. In the backseat of the car Jeremy couldn’t keep his eyes off of Michael’s flushed face.

Michael groaned, sinking into his hoodie as if he was still cold, but leaned his head against the glass window as if he was hot.

“Mr. Heere,” Jeremy cringed, Michael’s voice sounded awful, “Do I have to go home? My mom is gonna kill me…”

“She’s just worried sport, can’t blame her. I know the feeling.” Mr. Heere gave a quick glance back at Jeremy.

“I’ll try and see if you can spend the night, but you gotta face her eventually.” He smiled back and flexed his arm, “Gotta take it like a man!”

Michael dryly laughed. The next second his expression was serious, peering into Jeremy’s worried eyes, “I’m fine Jer.”

“…but-”

“I’m fine.” Michael looked out the window again. The car ride was silent.

Michael ended up being able to sleep over. Because of Jeremy’s insistence he was laying in his best friends bed. Michael groaned, laying a hand over his hot sweaty forehead, his eyes were lost and dazed. He glanced over at Jeremy who had just walked back into the room carrying a glass of water for Michael.

“You ok? I’m not gonna die you know.”

Jeremy frowned and pressed the glass into Michael’s hand, “I’m still worried though, you almost did die after all”

Michael laughed, “it’s ok dude” he pressed the glass to his lips, taking gulps of water down. He finished the glass without even realizing it, he pulled the glass away and smiled shyly at Jeremy.

“You have a pretty bad fever you know” it was 102 last they’d checked. “What do I do if it gets higher”

“It won’t.”

“You don’t know that” Jeremy stood up, grabbing the glass. “I’m gonna refill your water-”

Michael grabbed his wrist as he turned away, “hey.”

Jeremy turned, his face void of any readable expression, but Michael knew.

“It’s not your fault.”

Jeremy shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it go. He nodded and wiggled out of Michael’s grip, “okay.”

For now the best he could do was help Michael feel better, then he could cope with the guilt.

[oh-beyond]

Tinted Lips AU - Part 3

He thought he was done with humans. Last time he had direct contact with one was when he showed his parents what he had become five centuries ago. Ever since he’s became a blood sucker he promised to himself not to get close to any human.

Until you got injured in his territory, until his nostrils filled with your unusual scent… he had no other choice…

Vampire AU/Fluff/Smut 🔞

Warnings: mentions of blood and death. Visual violence.

Chen x  Reader (mentions of SHINee’s Key & Super Junior’s Donghae)

Special thanks to the awesome @xiubaek13 who’s always there to give me support and opinion and advise. She takes great credit after our vampire talk. 난 여동생이 사랑해.

Thanks to @heebiejbies for this amazing edit of Chen’s Tinted Lips, wow. I love you for doing this for me!

Masterlist

Tinted Lips Masterpost

< Part 2  - Part 4 >

1592 - Joseon Peninsula

“Dohee? You are alright? You are- you ar-”

“A vampire, a hungry one, your blood is not at all satisfying”

“Oh Dohee!” Chen smiled pulling her to his chest, giving her one tight caring hug.

“OK Alright, so what is your plan? I am sure I no longer smell like a human and your master here is very very clever”

“You need to leave. Go to the woods and wait for me near the stream where there is-”

“Yes yes, I know the place. That tree fallen that makes a nice natural bridge”

“Yes exactly. I will be there as soon as I can”

“I am hungry”

“I have nothing other than rotten deer blood”

Dohee made a disgusted face expression “no thanks. I will try and hunt something. Now turn around I want to get dressed”

Jongdae smirked raising an eyebrow “nothing I haven’t seen before”

Dohee swatted him “go away you flirt”

“Thank you Dohee, I feel the best I felt in a long time. Thank you for coming in the right time”

“So what is your name?”

“I am- I don’t know, vampires don’t really use their human names, it feels like I don’t deserve it anymore. But it was Jongdae. Kim Jongdae”

“Jongdae, it’s cute. I will call you Chen. You have a Chen face”

“A Chen face?” Jongdae for the first time smiled widely, showing his beautiful teeth “I like it. And I will call you Armour”

“Armour?”

“Yes, because you feel like my armour. Armour”

“Oh my god. Have you been always this cheesy? I’m cringing. Now leave because we really need to get going”

Jongdae stood up aiming to leave.

“Ammm, Chen?”

“Yes?” he stopped to face her.

“What about my brother? Dokwang”

“Yes, I will bring him. I promised you”

Jongdae left her to get dressed. He was happy... maybe he could share his immortal life with this new companion after they got rid of Key.

“Smiley boy!”

Jongdae was awoken from his thoughts and brought back to reality.

“Are you done? So fast?” asked Key wanting to peek inside the room.

“Hey hyung I wanted to come and ask you”

That caught Key’s interest “ask me?”

“Yeah... you see I... she died, I mean I just sucked a bit...”

“She died?” Key laughed out loud “well of course she did, look at how nourished you look, you know it’s hard to keep them alive when you are just a baby vampire. Did you at least got to do anything else?”

“I didn’t get the chance”

“Well pretty boy, I think it’s not a bad idea to get you a new toy tomorrow. I actually knew that would happen, but you are just too stubborn. Now collect both corpses and go burn them before sunset”

“I think I also decided on my vampire name”

“Good! I am so impressed of how well you are taking this. So tell me what is it?”

“Chen. From now on I will be known as Chen”

Chen made sure that Key wasn’t around when he took Dokwang’s lifeless body from outside his room. Key had dropped him just in front of his door like garbage. Chen carried it over his shoulder jumping from the window effortlessly disappearing in the woods, using his super speed he followed the smell of fresh blood finding Dohee buried face into a fox’s neck.

Chen placed Dokwang’s body carefully in the ground covering his face with his own upper garment. Just then Dohee raised her head from the unfortunate fox when she felt her brother’s presence. 

“My armour” greeted Chen “are you still hungry? Do you need-”

“Where is he?” asked Dohee wiping her mouth, as if embarrassed that she was acting upon her hunger when her brother just died the same way.

Chen brought her close by her shoulders patting her forearm “are you sure?”

“Maybe we can help him? Maybe he can be like us”

“Not anymore. He died. You know that”

Dohee hated that she couldn’t form tears, she recalled that crying somehow made it better, but being a vampire meant bottling it up, everything was kept inside and it made her furious.

“I want to see him. Just once before we burry him”

“Before that, I wanted to ask you something” sputtered Chen stopping her to look at him “I’d like to ask permission to use him”

“No!” she thundered “never, you promised me”

“It will help getting rid of Key”

Dohee’s nostrils flared with anger, she did look like a beast, even Chen felt intimidated.

“I read that dead humans can be turned into ghouls, it’s supposed to be an obedient creature with inhuman strength” explained Chen getting Dohee’s attention, finally her factions relaxing giving him her attention “the process of turning him into a ghoul is similar to the process of turning into a vampire. The difference is that ghouls wouldn’t really be smart creatures and it’s not advisable to keep them alive for long, they do not control their urges, and unlike us they feed on organs, it would be chaos on the lose, I mean only if yo-”

“Do it!” she confirmed “Six arms are better than four, more chances to get rid of that bastard”

“Thank you armour!” Chen didn’t really think before embracing Dohee with his arms. He hugged her tightly in a loving manner. He felt safe and worth living this damned life.

“Now don’t be getting all touchy in front of my brother”

Chen cleared his throat and smiled taking her hand in his guiding her where Dokwang’s body lay. She saw his pale hands and she didn’t know that this would enrage her the way it did, her nails sank on the ground before slowly moving away the garment that covered his face.

“Dokwang, my baby brother. What did he do to you? I will avenge you. Avenge all of us” 

She kissed his forehead nodding to Chen allowing him next to her. Chen held Dokwang’s chin forcing his mouth open.

“Please gather as many animals as you can, I am not sure how he will react when he... we need dead animals, anything you can get, the bigger the better”

With that she disappeared. Anger flowing over her senses, she felt stronger and capable of pulling the biggest of trees off the ground. And she did... in silence testing her supernatural and incredible strength.

She then saw a grizzly bear, hibernating most probably, didn’t look menacing but for sure it wouldn’t be his luckiest day. She cracked his neck as if nothing, dragging the dead animal behind her by his foot.

When she went back to where Chen and her dead brother were she noticed movement in him. Dokwang was moving, but he was not him. He wasn’t her brother anymore, but the strange creature babbling nonsense, his skin tone strange, almost green like the surroundings. That wasn’t her brother, but definitely the weapon to get rid of Key.

Dohee rushed to join Chen as it seemed he was struggling to keep him still, it almost looked as if he regretted turning Dokwang into this.

“Shhh, please, stay quiet, please. Key will hear us”

Dohee ripped open the bear’s abdomen and just then the ghoul relaxed digging his head inside the bear. Chen brought Dohee’s head forcing it on his chest once again. He caressed her even though vampires were not very emotional, he felt the need to comfort her, maybe because they just both turned into vampires not long ago.

The need to feel human and comfort her was real.

“It’s alright Dohee, I am not your brother, but I will protect you from now on. Forever”

It was almost dawn. Unlike vampires ghouls had the ability to sleep, and that was what Dokwang was doing. Sleeping next to his sister that he didn’t recognise. She played with his hair that had turned course and kept promising a revenge to their fates.

The plan was set, Chen had gone to town courting one of the whores from a brothel to follow him to his house. It didn’t take him much convincing as she followed him without knowing of where she was really going. All she willingly wanted was to be touched by this distinctively handsome young man.

“It’s satisfying how cold your skin is” she whispered in his ear.

“Please stay still. Don’t keep moving you are going to fall”

“And a gentleman. It might be my lucky day today”

“Yeah that is for sure. Today is your lucky day” he jeered not looking at her.

With that he held her in place and ran using his super speed. The whore was tipsy and blamed the cheap alcohol she ingested earlier that evening for her blurry vision and her sudden upset stomach.

“Baby boy! You are back! But what you bring is not what we agreed on” Key sarcastically welcomed Chen.

“Sorry hyung… I-“

“She is attractive, but malnourished. She’s also definitely not a virgin, I can smell other men on her, and I don’t like that” Key’s tone sounded firm and Chen was terrified.

“What is this? A party of 3? You didn’t tell me you had a friend” snickered the whore.

“And she is drunk? Baby boy tsk tsk tsk, you haven’t learned anything have you? I thought you read some book and-”

“I am sorry hyung it’s just my first time”

“I think I can forgive you for now. Just because her breasts are actually not bad to look at. And where are the rest of the women I asked you to bring?”

“Hyung, just this time. It wasn’t an easy task”

“Alright. Take her to the bath. Cold water so she sobers up, then guide her to my room”

“Will she die hyung?” inquired Chen to make sure his plan would work.

“Of course she will. What good is this cheap whore to me?”

When she heard that she started kicking her legs but Chen gagged her with his hand and disappeared in the manor to fulfil the task that was given to him.

“Shut up, or it will be painful” whispered Chen.

She kept kicking till he tossed her in the filled bath with iced cold water.

“Clean yourself up. It’s for your own good” he added.

Without further discussions she did as she was told. She disposed of her clothing and rubbed herself while she quietly cried. She was fully alert now, aware of the situation and her destiny.

Once finished cleaning herself up she took the robe Chen had placed next to her silently joining him outside.

He walked in front of her and she obediently followed him, she tried not to make noises, but her crying intensified when he opened the door to the big bedroom with high ceilings and dark curtains.

“Why me?”

“Drink this” offered Chen showing her a little flask with a green coloured liquid inside “it’s all I can do for you. It will make you sleep and you will not feel anything”

“What is it?”

“It’s poison. Strong one to be effective and immediate”

She gasped, her lips quivering biting on her lower lip.

“You will die before he does anything to you”

“Why? I know I wasn’t a good woman during my life, but it wasn’t by choice”

“Know that this will be the best thing you do. This will save everyone. He will never do any harm to anyone ever again”

“Is he Key?”

Chen nodded “he is”

“So what will happen?”

“When he sucks your blood he will get poisoned too, it won’t kill him, but I will make sure I do”

She didn’t think it twice and she took the flask opening it to drink, Chen stopped her grabbing her wrist “thank you”

“No, thank you” and with that she drank it in one go. 

She soon started writhing in pain, she held on her belly and started coughing, just before falling on the big mattress.

Chen sighed. He hated it. He made sure to close her eyelids. He looked at the window and noticed that the sun was almost up. Dohee would need to come to the manor soon or else she would get burned by the sunbeams.

“Pretty boy? Oh or should I say Chen?”

“Ye- yes hyung” stuttered Chen taking the flask back an into his pocket.

“What happened here?”

“Well she wouldn’t stand still so I had to slap her, she fainted”

“Slapping already. I’m loving your remarkable adaptation to the new life. Or should I say death?” jested Key smirking making Chen wanting to already break his neck.

“I will leave now”

Chen run to his own room making signals with the oil lantern to make Dohee understand that it was time to come. She saw him in the window and she immediately pulled the ghoul to her back, running with her incredible speed climbing the walls of the manor.

“What took you so long? I was getting worried” she sputtered placing the ghoul on the bed.

“It not easy to convince a person to die for the cause”

“You convinced me fast enough” retorted Dohee.

“That was different. Just admit that you wouldn’t want to leave my side”  smirked Chen in response making Dohee roll her eyes.

The ghoul soon enough woke up making noises that by now Key would had heard.

“BASTARD! WHAT DID THIS WHORE- KIM JONGDAE!!!” cried Key from his room.

“This is it Dohee”

“Let’s go Jongdae!”

“They opened the door and saw Key on his knees spitting the blood he just sucked. It weakened him and they took advantage straight away, Chen held one arm and Dohee held the other.

“Who is this? You bastard, you betrayed me! You turned this whore into one of us?”

“Don’t you dare call me a whore. You didn’t touch me, therefore I am still intact you filthy creature”

Key was weak but he had years of knowledge, his strength was by far more than both of them combined. He managed to set himself free trying to pull Dohee to break her neck. But that is when the ghoul made his appearance surprising him.

“A ghoul? Isn’t-”

“Yes my brother who you murdered”

Key started to hysteric-laugh, the ghoul held him from his feet while Chen and Dohee held his arms going to the roof were they intended to finish him.

*****

Seoul - 2017 Bukhansan National Park (off-limit area)

Just a little closer, a little closer… the Pine Grosbeak bird was just there. Finally. You weren’t imagining and you finally saw it. The rare appearance in the Korean peninsula that was reported by an ecological monitoring session was not just a rumour. Just a little bit closer…

“Aaaaaaaaah”

You fell off the tree when the branch you were sitting on broke with your weight and movement. It was unfortunate enough to fall, but the worst was that you didn’t land on the ground, but instead rolled over a ramp that would end in a sharp cliff. You tried to stop yourself, the backpack that was on your lap in the tree went down the cliff and luckily your palms and knees stopped you from following your it.

The backpack.

The one that had all the chances of survival.

Your phone, regardless that there was no coverage where you were, it was still a phone. Your sleeping bag, your first aid kit, food…

You were doomed.

You climbed back to the top with the help of your nails falling back down to the edge of the cliff.

And that is when your desperate crying started.

Your voice was piercing his ears. He hated having the ability to hear from miles away. He hated it more when he felt that his hairs stood as you cried in desperation.

“She must be really close. I hope she dies soon because it’s disturbing. Fucking humans think that they are invincible” he said out loud in the darkness of his room.

He shook it off and tried to focus on something else. He wondered through his old discs library. Some soothing music to his ears should work.

But it didn’t...

“When are you going to stop whining? As if crying will bring that damn backpack back”

He kept talking out loud, as if making a full conversation with you. As if you could hear him as well as he could hear you.

“I should of listened to Donghae! He was right! I am nothing. I should be staying at home cooking and waiting for his arrival”

Chen scoffed “you should have” he chastised.

“Donghae~!!! Please! I don’t want to die”

“Too late. Oh for fucks sake when will she ever shut her mouth?”

“I will be a good girl for you. Please come and save me!”

“Doesn’t this idiot know that the more she shouts the more she tired she will get?”

But why was Chen even bothered? Why didn’t he really focus on something else? It must have been decades since the last time he’s even seen a human. He hears them a lot and blocks their voices. He had the ability to.

But not you.

You just made his ears more alert. More alert to the point of really believing you were just in the same room with him.

“Heeeeeeelp! Help”

It went for hours. Your desperate pleading, it went from denial to acceptance to hysteric. You had confessed your love for Donghae about 10 times already and it was making him so angry. So angry he just wanted to shut your mouth. Maybe help you to the nearest village wasn't a bad idea, to get away from his territory.

Chen liked to lie down. A behaviour he never stopped doing, but accompanied by your sobs was something that he never imagined.

He got up and jumped out of his window, in less than 10 seconds he was in the tree were you had fallen from. He was about to jump, to pull you away but his nostrils filled with your blood scent. He closed his eyes leaning on the tree.

Exquisite.

It must be the lack of human blood all these years. He’s only tasted it once and he promised to himself never to do it again.

He finally jumped making you gasp. It was dark and you definitely noticed the presence of something... or somebody.

“Who’s there!?”

As he walked he felt his heart thumping faster than usual. It was the need and the urge of human blood. It’s been centuries and even after all these years of training, he was still weak for it.

He had to turn back, he had to, he had to...

“Donghae~~~~! Lee Donghae! I will go out with you and massage your feet and doll up for y-” you kept on and on when you thought you imagined the sound near you.

“For fucks sake can you stop talking for one minute! Would those really be your last sentences before dying?”

“Who’s there!? Are you going to kill me? I can’t see you! Are you a serial killer? Are you going to rape me? Are y-”

“SHUT UP! SHUT THE HELL UP! SHUT THAT MOUTH OF YOURS. YOUR VOICE IS SO ANNOYING!”

Annoying because it resonated inside his body. He didn’t understand why and he disliked it.

And you did. You muted completely. He was your only hope, if your voice annoyed him, then you shall be quiet until he gives you permission to speak again.

And even then, even then he could hear you, he heard your heavy breathing... he heard your heartbeats clear in his ears. As if they were drumbs blinding his thoughts...

“Where is this Donghae at? Is he near here?” he asked casually trying to sound unaffected. 

“I- I can’t see you, it’s making me uncomfortable”

“Well of course the princess needs to see who she’s talking to. How can you live with yourself? Annoying creature. I bet you this Donghae is happy that you are lost in the woods”

And you started crying again, weeping and sobbing.

“OK stop it! I’ll help you but please stop... just don’t open your mouth”

You felt a pair of hands trying to make you stand. 

“I can’t”

Before you talked any further a hand found it’s way to the back of your knees and the other at your back lifting you as if you weighted a feather.

It was hard... so hard because when his skin made brief contact with your skin he flinched and felt heat spread in his dead cold body.

“Thank you”

Your breath fanning his face made him weak.

In a flash he was back at the manor, you wondered if it was sudden wind of if really it was possible to run that fast.

“Where are we? I can’t see. I am really scared. Please don’t hurt me. You wouldn’t right?”

He sat you in the old dusty armchair and disappeared for a second coming back with an oil lamp. 

‘His tinted lips… were like no one’s, curled upwards at the edges, he wasn’t even smiling. His gaze, his sharp jaw and his high cheekbones. Who was this man that could keep the direct eye contact without hesitation? As if he stole your soul you let him, it felt right. You belonged to him without your knowledge. It was only natural that you’d let him because you belonged to him and he was just taking care of what was his’

“Who are you?” you asked no longer afraid “no it doesn’t matter, I belong here”

She’s the one. He felt it. He felt it with Kim Jongdae’s heart.

_____________________

A/N: Next part you will finally understand what happened to Key and Dohee, Chen’s armour U_U

Thanks for reading, feedback always welcomed.

[ohmsservice]

To Woo a Q  - Chapter 2

Bond couldn’t breath.

Water filled his lungs, his brain, his blood burning from the lack of oxygen. He reached an arm through the bars of the gate, trapped and submerged in the cool waters of the Adriatic. From beyond and just out of reach, Vesper watched him as he drowned, a smile on her face, a peaceful expression in her eyes.

Why is she smiling? What’s wrong with her? I’m drowning. Dying, dying, lost…

Don’t leave me, Vesper. Please. Don’t… The words went unheard from his cooling lips, until they floated towards the sky, broke the surface and—

James woke up tangled in sweat-soaked cotton sheets.

Damn.

He tossed back the cover sheet and strolled over to his penthouse window to watch dawn break.

I miss you, you fucking traitorous bitch. The sun pierced the horizon. Bond wrapped his arms around his bare torso against the chill in the room. When the hell are we going to let each other go?

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

“M asked me to keep a surreptitious eye on him and report if I clocked anything unusual. I mean what am I supposed to report, Tanner? Bond - or any Double O for that matter - by the very definition, is hardly usual.” Villiers was absent-mindedly leafing through the file in his hands as he spoke. “And I mean, it’s not like he’s going to confide anything personal to me. I’m hardly his type.”

“Well, you may not be his type, Villiers, but he is everybody’s type.”

“Funny, Tanner. And completely unhelpful.”

“M is merely concerned. Agents are very good at fooling even MI6’s arduous psych evals. From what I’ve heard, the loss of Vesper Lynd hit him as hard, if not harder, than even the loss of his wife. All I can say is, good luck to the next unfortunate that falls for his charms. That’ll be a rebound hard enough to cause a shift in the planet’s orbit…”

The unnervingly calm sound of the Quartermaster’s voice interrupted their quiet conversation. “Found those files I asked for yet, Tanner? If you have time to be standing around gossiping like a couple of old washerwomen over a picket fence, I’m sure I’ll find them waiting on my desk were I to return to my office this moment?”

“Yessir, nosir, right away, Q,” flustered Tanner, gathering himself and the contents of his arms with a quick withering glance towards Villiers before heading out of the file room.

Clearing his throat, Villiers didn’t wait for a reprimand. “Must get these files to M, Sir.”

“You do that,” said Q.

Q watched the back of the men retreat as he backed deeper into the file archives. Evidently, there were aspects of Bond’s past that remained firmly under lock and key, and he himself was not yet a familiar enough presence in the bricks and mortar of MI6 to be privy to historical gossip of such nature. Gossip, he thought to himself wryly. For all their gadgets and clever methods of intelligence gathering by subterfuge, gossip truly was a brand of intelligence sharing one could genuinely rely upon. He reached the door to the private room and keyed in the access code. He would have to lobby M for access to that information, he thought to himself as the door slipped shut behind him. How on God’s green earth could he be expected to keep the agents safe in the field if he wasn’t completely familiar with aspects of their personality that might jeopardise a mission, or worse still, get said agent killed?

No. Being kept in the dark on such matters was unacceptable and he’d make damn sure he’d convince M of the same.

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

“Italy…”

“Yes, Bond,” M said, barely glancing up from the report on her desk. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Of course it was a bloody problem. “Of course not. Ma’am.”

“Good.” She gave him a cursory glance and a dismissive wave of her hand. “Off you go then. Villiers will furnish you with the information you need and you can digest it on the flight.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Bond said turning on his heel to exit her office. Bond wondered if M had children.

Poor bastards.

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

“You’ll be overseeing 007’s mission in Venice, Q,” M’s voice was crisp and clear across the internal comms. Everything, it seems, comes at a price, including wanting to know the deepest, darkest secrets of the men and women you were expected to keep alive.

“Venice, Ma’am?”

“Yes, Q. Venice. Unfortunately, MI6 cannot dictate the movements and operations of other intelligence agencies just so we can pander to our own.”

Q bit back a retort. It wouldn’t do well to voice what he was thinking in that moment unless he wanted to end up face down in the Thames with his cats clinging to his back. “Of course not, Ma’am. I’m just wondering would it be less of a risk to the success of the mission were another Double-O assigned.”

“All our other operatives are engaged,” she said sharply. “It’s Bond’s responsibility. And he is yours. Consider the exercise a test in his ability to continue be an effective asset and yours to ensure he remains that way,” she said, cutting the call.

Q wondered if M had children.

Hapless little sods.

[mymind--themess]

Terms of Entrapment -- Prologue

Here I was...again.

The wet Romanian soil that mixed with soot beneath my feet was cold in comparison to the chaotic fire in front of me. Even so far away from the biggest of the flames, I could still feel the waves of it's warmth on my pale skin. The fire seemed to be alive as it swept through the estate before me and swiftly down the hill it sat upon. I didn't even gag at the smell of the rotting flesh  assaulting my nose --  it was expected considering a faceless corpse wasn't far from me. Besides, the scent wasn't as bad as it would've been had it not began to downpour. My  copper red locks clung to my drenched gown, and I couldn't help but  stare at my drenched state as I stood completely still.

I knew the current me, the me that's a brunette bookworm from New York City with the most morbid sense of humor, is asleep in my bed in modern day Paris. No longer am I the Romanian redhead  I currently see myself as. I'm sure Bram Stoker's book isn't that far off on how I used to be, besides my looks. Y'know, Dracula's brides -- I was the one who was no bark and all too happy to sink her fucking fangs into something.

It's always here I come back to in my sleep lately, the memory becoming more and more prevalent since I first touched down on European soil a few years back. I suppose it's my specific form of punishment for the past, why wouldn't it be? My soul isn't in the original pit of fire I had sold it to through marriage. Somehow, I had been reincarnated and slipped out of a loophole I didn't even know existed. I figure reliving my death over and fucking over in my nightmares is more than fair.

"Dracula! I know you are in there, my love! I need you! Make them unhand me!"

Perhaps the worst part was hearing her cry his name so desperately, even though that bastard was nowhere to be found. Glancing uphill, I followed the trail of fire toward the castle to look at the source of the voice, my eyes landing on the feminine silhouette that was the source of the cry of his name. The wind and rain whipped around her, throwing cascades of ash blonde locks into her pretty, sickly face while the skirt of her dress was tossed rapidly by the wind as well. She didn't even bother to shield herself, body trembling as she screamed in agony for any sign of Dracula -- as if she had actually known him long enough to have the right to scream like that. Then again, I wasn't surprised to find her like that, nor was I surprised when the shouts of her human husband, Mr. Harker, reached my ears. Clearly the little brat was going through a withdrawal and had escaped wherever the hell her husband and the Vatican had hidden her. Having not lain with Dracula nor tasted his blood in about three moon cycles, it was incredulous that Mina was even still alive -- all of those separated from their sire within her Changed class die within just one moon cycle. The Church must've been close to the cure Mr. Harker had paid them so handsomely for.

This sort of situation happens more often than people would think between the Changer and the Changed. When it comes to being changed, it's unknown which of the six classes of Changed the new fledgling will be. The different classes have a very direct influence on the connection the fledgling and sire will share for eternity. Nobody can influence or change the class a Changed will fall under. This connection, no matter how it turns out, is crucial and referred to as Soul Binding: A case of natural selection completely up to fate in the supernatural society that can determine life or death all whilst keeping power balance with a chain of command system. A Changer cannot determine what class of fledgling they will have, and the Changed will vary significantly. Each supernatural species has these major six classes, and these can even be broken up into smaller, more specific categories. A Changed can even have characteristics of multiple classes. These Changed are referred to as "Toss-Ups" or "Jacks".

The first class of the Changed are the Independent. This class of the Changed will share very little connection at all to their sire, and therefore the majority are free to find and follow their own paths and agendas. This class isn't very common, and due to their lack of connection, these types of Changed tend to stay to themselves, often ashamed or angry about what they've become.

The second class are the Familiars; fledglings that end up having a paternal or fraternal bond with their sires. This class heavily depends upon their makeshift family and are extremely family-oriented -- they hardly leave each other. Although that doesn't mean shit doesn't happen; Supernatural families can become dysfunctional too. However, if separated from said "family" for long periods of time, these types of Changed can become extremely emotionally unstable.

Intimates are the third class, and clearly where my fellow brides and I fell. Intimates become lovers or mates, and often they don't leave each other either. Of course clearly, this isn't always the case and sometimes these Changed will have a very toxic relationship with their sire. It's perhaps the most complicated of the classes, because the reality is while they will always need each other, they might stop wanting each other. It can be either a very bitter and nasty situation or a mutual understanding, these relationships often ending in scandalous affairs or open relationships.

Next comes the class of the Obedient. This poor fourth class are the Changed who become subservient, or those who believe their sire is their God. The majority are basically servants, but there are some who will do anything and everything their sire even thinks of, and thus the situation can become deadly for a fledgling. This class often has to deal with obsession issues, and it can get rather annoying for the sire, leading to rejection. There have been rare cases of an extreme Obedient being rejected and killing their sire or even themselves.

The fifth class is the Territorial, and they are some vicious sons of bitches. These fledglings get very emotional and very violent very fast over their sires, or even over others they become attached to. They won't hesitate to get to their sire no matter the cost, and it can be deadly for all involved.  Plus side? They are skilled in battle and have the most strength. Brutal con? Anger issues are aplenty, and they can be extremely overbearing toward their sire of the object of their affection.

The final class of the Changed are referred to as Addicts. Addicts are perhaps the most pathetic and endangered out of all six classes. They depend solely upon some form of their sire that can range from simply hearing their voice to even their blood. Some cases were quite mild, and others quite severe. Many are rejected by their sires and therefore die simply because they're considered too much to handle.

Mina Harker was the very definition of a severe addict in the supernatural society. Ugh, she was a disgusting, sickly sight, and it honestly satisfied me to see her that way. Her skin was a horrid shade of grey and those bags under her eyes matched her sunken cheeks perfectly. She needed that bastard I called a husband more than she needed her own damn husband, and due to how supernaturally uneducated and how new of a fledgling she was, Mina's still human-like mind had mistaken her addiction for her sire as true, undying love.

I loathed her and still have an undying distaste for her; she ruined everything! Everything was fine until he took an interest in her.

"Whore." I felt my lips mumble bitterly, my thick Romanian accent present.

The fire roared loudly as it rose higher, the fingers of the flames reaching for the dark sky above as if to greet the rain, and I took a deep inhale of breath, waiting for my feet to move by themselves. I have no control of my actions every time I relived this moment, but full control of my thoughts. Adamantly, the control of my thoughts is a blessing in disguise when it comes to getting killed over and over. The first few times this happened, it horrified me immensely to be able to know I was going to die and not be able to stop myself. But nowadays? I genuinely think of what I should have for breakfast when I wake up or what I have to do later on in the day while my body is on an unfortunate autopilot.

I narrowed my eyes as I felt my body take the first step toward my inevitable demise, waiting for this to play out...but my body stopped walking. What the hell?

"What the hell?"

Did I just talk? Like...actually make my current thoughts verbal?

I did.

My eyes widened slightly as I tested out my ability to look down. I could move my neck and look down, and for further proof to myself, I wiggled my bare left foot with ease.

Oh...well, this was new.

And scary.

What was going on?

I glanced back up to the scene uphill again as suddenly all sound stopped. The fire still consumed everything, yet no cackle came. The dumb broad still stood there screaming as her husband and one of his friends held her back from running blindly into the fire, but her screams weren't piercing my ears. I gulped deeply and began to walk uphill, the guards I passed not even noticing me.

Something was amiss here.

The scene continued, but without me playing my part. I watched as Mina yelled at the empty space in front of her where I usually would be at this point, hissing and blaming her for everything that happened. I watched as she was shoved back along with her husband by an invisible force that would've also been my doing had this played out like usual. It would've been at this point that I had stormed inside of my burning home, but I didn't -- not when I saw Dracula's own guards pull Mina up and carry her away as she began to convulse, also helping up Mr. Harker to follow behind. My confusion was immense as to why exactly they treated Mina with such...respect. If she was truly so respectable, she wouldn't have dared to be Dracula's mistress in the first place. We wouldn't be in this fucking mess had she stayed faithful to her loving husband and if my husband could think just a little less with the head below his belt.

You think the original three of us would've been enough; Verona, Marishka, and I. We paid prices so high and committed so much sin, played a huge part in building Dracula's empire by getting our hands filthy for him, only to be tossed aside in the end for this tramp. My fellow brides wouldn't ever come to know this though.

They were already dead; I was the last bride still standing

Scoffing and shaking my head with another mumble, I continued onward into the castle. "Unbelievable."

As the temperature began to rise and I walked deeper into the flame-filled castle, I noticed that I couldn't feel the searing of my flesh like I usually would've, but I could damn well see the fire eating away at my arms, clothing, and singeing my hair. This could only be described as new, and I pondered there in the inflamed ; do I take the path that led to my death still, or do I venture another way? How long do I have until I wake up from this exactly?  

I was suddenly snapped out of my thoughts as I caught something in my peripheral vision walking across a doorway that led to another corridor. It was something that had to have been easily almost eight feet tall, very slender, and resembled a shadow. It could've been many things, like the writhing shadows that the flames danced against, but something told me that wasn't the case at all. The shadow-like thing was much faster paced, and seemed to have a sense of purpose. It peaked my interest easily, so therefore, I decided to head in it's direction without much of a second thought.

I didn't get very far though.

My time was up, I knew, when I suddenly found myself with a gaping whole in the chest where the purified stake should have been, and felt my head be sliced from my neck. I closed my eyes, hating to watch as my vision spun in circles when my head rolled down to the floor with an unceremonious thud.

Fuck.

My eyes snapped open as I took a sharp intake of breath, staring up to the soft baby blue ceiling of my bedroom. I gently gripped my navy blue comforter, needing to know that it was there until the familiar bustle of vehicles and people began to reach my ears from the large window to my right, causing me to exhale in relief.

I was back in reality; I was awake, in Paris, in 2017.

And something was instantaneously unusual.

[tainbocuailnge]

kurozu501 replied to your post “seruel: hey naoise: I would die for you. I would lay down my life in a...”

what im hearing here is that these two are the anime version of gomez and morticia

not really they’re not nearly as goth but the blind devotion is definitely there

naoise is a knight of the irestill royal family which currently consists of the siblings seruel and heles. the three of them basically grew up together and are super close. before the start of the game seruel and heles’ now dead father (who was called connor so him ruining everything is a universal constant clearly) had ordered naoise to kill the dragon deirdre but once he did it turned out deirdre had been protecting the island from monsters and irestill fell into chaos so naoise immediately exiled himself to atone for something that wasn’t really his fault but he feels massively guilty about anyway because he’s loyal & devoted to an extreme fault. connor said (I think it was on his deathbed even) that naoise killed deirdre to test his abilities but neither of the siblings believed that he’d ever put others at risk for personal gain and seruel went out to look for him to hear the truth from him and convince him to come back the moment they got restoration efforts started while heles stayed behind to oversee the rest

when naoise finally decides to stop running from his guilt and return to irestill it turns out that not only is he the only one blaming him for what happened and everyone’s really glad he’s back, deirdre is also still alive with her soul in a temporary humanoid container and is willing to restore the pact the irestill royal family had with her if they work to restore her dragon form, and he has no idea how to handle it bc he was convinced his country (and childhood friends) hated him for what he did and was basically planning to just Die doing some minor good deed while away. now he keeps trying to do the Most throwing himself headfirst into danger and basically attempting to protect the entire god damn country on his own to somehow still get rid of the feeling that It Was His Fault And He Should Have Done More. seruel and heles aren’t just his childhood friends but also the representatives of the country only he thinks he betrayed so he’s especially bad about it around them. seruel could spill water on his shirt and naoise would still go I Am So Sorry I Should Have Prevented This I Am A Failure As A Knight

seruel and heles are very worried about him but bc they’re smart and somewhat sheltered royalty and all three of them have reserved yet intense personalities none of them know how to talk informally so all their conversations are like That

[midnightmemory66]

The 11 Get To Know me Tag

i've been tagged (once again) by my wonderful friend, @eubii

thanks, sista <3

Rules: 1. Always post the rules 2. Answer the questions given by the person who tagged you 3. Write 11 questions of your own 4. Tag 11 people

1. Do you have any kind of mental illness? nothing that i know of, honestly. my friends probably think otherwise, but no, no metal illnesses :>

2. How did you find tumblr? oh d0000d, i actually have no idea.. i guess i saw tumblr posts someplace like we <3 it and i thought it was interesting so i joined and i have been hooked ever since

3. Pineapple on pizza or not? YES!!! DEFINITELY!!! IF THERE IS ONE USE FOR PINEAPPLES, IT'S TO PUT THEM ON PIZZAS

4. Best place to be? dunno man, wherever i'm comfortable i guess? sometimes it's my bed, sometimes it's outside, it differs really. but i guess if i had to choose one place, it would be my home <3

5. Do you write? i try to, yes, but i'm really bad at it and i don't usually finish anything so yeah, there's that..

6. What makes you happy? oh, that's a good one ^u^

one thing for sure is music. i don't think there's even a word that woukld describe how happy music makes me. probably like solid 45% if my happiness is music. other 45% is my girlfriend, she makes me super duper happy and is just as important for my overall happiness as music. the rest are just things such as friends, books, art (even tho really shitty) and other stuff

7. What was your first fandom? damn, actually not sure at all.. i guess you could say the one direction fandom? if we're talking like "proper" fandoms, that is. but i actually consider my first fandom the supernatural fandom, so that counts as well, hopefully

8. What was the first band you were fan of? man, that might actually be the jonas brothers.. i mean, i basically grew up on disney, so it would make sense

9. Did you ever do something that made you think all of your friends hated you? happens to me all the time, tbh. like.. whether it's saying something wrong or doing something disappointing and such. it sucks, but yeah..

10. What are you afraid of? life

11. Thunderstorms or Sunshine? thunderstorm. even though i love those kinda aesthetic sunny photos, grey, gloomy days with thunders and lightning bolts are my favorite as they represent my life and soul

12. God or the devil? neither? i guess? is that an option? well, it is now

13. TCC (teacher crush community) or TCC (true crime community): What do you think of the relationship between them? whut? i'm sorry i have no idea what that is, and to be quite honest, neither sounds like something i'd be exactly interested in

14. Rain or thunderstorm? both at the same time <3 but i will have to go with rain, if i'm not walking to school at the time, that is :D

15. Love+hate or complete boredom, but without hate? totally love+hate. i can't stand boredom and it wouldn't be fun without hate anyways

16. A war for the right moral or no war but a bad government? as much as i hate wars and shit.. i don't think it's a good idea to have a shitty government. plus, if the war actually did lead to better morals, that would be amazing, so i would take risk

17. Nietzsche or Kant? i only know nietzsche, so i can't really compare, but i do like nietzsche so i'm just gonna say him

18. MBTI or Hogwarts House test? i love, love, LOVE, both, but sadly, hogwarts have to go. the thing is, the hogwarts house test is very limited and doesn't really tell you much about you as a person, whereas mbti tests are divided into much more smaller groups that really tell you things about your own self, some that you wouln't exactly expect yourself to have, but do end up relating to most of the time, and that's the main reason why i'm choosing mbti tests

19. Swearing or puns? generally speaking, i like puns more, but i use swear words more. most of the time because my language is dumb and isn't exactly.. suitable for making puns. PRAISE ENGLISH AMEN

20. Psychopathy or sociopathy? probably sociopathy, since it's way less harmful than psychopathy, for the most part. i do enjoy fictional psychopaths though, for example our lovely teacher, jeffershit <3

21. Family or friends? somehow, i have a bettter relationship with my friends (?) i dunno why, i just feel way more comfortable around them when it comes to really personal stuff and that's one of the main reasons why i'm choosing friends over family

22. Sheriarty or Destiel? DESTIEL!!!!! I'M SORRY ERBI, BUT DESTIEL IS JUST MY THANG

23. What is your biggest obsession right now? (Whether a book, song, character, could be anything really!)

currently, i have to say life is strange is my obsession <3

24. Would you say you’re more lawful or chaotic? (according to moral alignment)

i'm a true neutral ^u^

25. Recommend us one song you love!

oh, calamity! by all time low. that song is literally my most favorite song by them and it means a lot to me

26. How do you feel about “more colour more pride” ? (see:https://morecolormorepride.com/)

well, i guess they meant well, but i share the opinion that lgbtq+ should stand for every single member of this community, no matter their race, and i think that if they really wanted to make everything even, they should have added a color for all the races, not just black and brown color (wow, a white is speaking, could you believe that?) okay, no, let's just keep the original pride flag and no one will get hurt

27. Would you say you’re more dominant or submissive? Generally speaking.

i consider myself a fairly submissive person, though i do not mind taking the dominant role

28. What is that one character quality you look for in others?

the ability to listen when i ramble and help when i need it

29. What is that one character quality that repels you?

rudeness and being mean in general. i can't stand that

30. Which language would you love to learn?

ALL THE LANGUAGES!!! but maybe korean? it's a really interesting language, plus i'd love to understang songs without needing captions xD

31. “I wish I were more…”, fill in the gap!

smart, pretty, skinny, talented, likeable, funny, intelligent, useful, more of a better daughter, you name it

32. “I wish I were less…”

stupid, me, emotional, shitty, useless, ugly, alive (sometimes)

33. Write a short message to whoever comes to your mind, you don’t have to address them, just write what would you want to tell them! :)

hi. i guess you will know who you are, you are actually two people i adress this to. thank you. honestly, thank you so freaking much, for what you do for me. thank you for listening to my rants, making me feel somehow better about myself, assuring me people care about me, that what i feel isn't all bad and hopeless, thank you for that. thank you <3

now it's my turn for to write eleven more q's

here goes

1. if you could go back in time and change one moment in your life, would you?

2. do you like popcorn? if yes, what kind is your favorite?

3. which fictional character would you like to spend a day with?

4. you have been offered a lifetime supply of your favorite thing, whatever it is, but you would have to give up one of your most precious memories. what would you do?

5. are you afraid of the dark?

6. have you ever experienced deja vu? what was your reaction?

7. do you like sarcasm?

8. what personality trait would you change about yourself?

9. is there a song you would just send to hell and destroy it forever?

10. have you ever been caught cheating on a test/exam?

11. are you more like your dad or your mom?

again, thank you erbi for tagging me ;>

and as i certainly don't have eleven people to tag, i will just tag anyone who is interested in joining me on this wonderful journey this tag is <3

i would never forget to tag my lovely mom though, right @ayo-jin ?