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roseamongroses · 6 hours ago

Text

trompe-l'œil

Tags: Melvika/ Mafia Au if u squint / Implied Violence / Mild Sexual Content / One Night Stand / Sevika Does Not Get Paid Enough / no beta we die like Viktor / mel's pretty privilege / One Shot / flashbacks and flash forwards / resolved tension but at what cost / 2k

Summary:

Two women, a bar, a midnight tryst, and a lot of unanswered questions.

ao3

“Is--is the bar closed?” A sliver of a voice asked, hoarse and uncertain as she approached.

Sevika looked up, annoyance rolling off her in waves.

It was bad enough that tonight was already fucking horrible. A bachelor’s party for some tough-shit Enforcer wrecked the place earlier. The whole group filled with shit personalities and shittier tips. Of course some dumb-ass was trying to get in at closing, as if they don’t see the keys in her-

Huh.

All sharp words died on her tongue as she turned around.

Gorgeous.

The woman was undeniably beautiful.

Tall, dark, and dripping with gold—her glinting jewelry caught the street light's shine, as if a halo emitted from them. Locs spilled over her shoulders in waves, framing the sharply drawn face as they tilted their head, confused.

Dark makeup smeared her cheeks. Those hazel eyes, dark and lovely. Her busted lip and rubbed raw eyes a blooming red that could be from crying—or yelling. Knuckles bruised, bleeding, the delicate curve of her hand pulling her thin, silk blazer over the swell of her chest tight.

Her eyes burned something fierce even as she folded in on herself, body struggling against the cool, night air.

“…No,” Sevika lied, shameless as she took in the sight, “We’re still open,”

She looked like she needed a drink—and Sevika was kind enough to offer her company in the meantime.

“Truly?” The woman asked, skeptically glancing at the keys in Sevika’s hands, lips pursed, “I can leave and find another—“

“Tip me well and I’ll give you all the time you need,” Sevika drawled, rehooking the keys onto her belt loop and pushing the door--leaning against it to keep it propped open.

The woman’s pretty mouth curled at the offer, a breathless thanks on her lips as she squeezed past, smelling sweet. Sevika followed close behind.

Sevika buried her face into her bed, shying from the early morning light in favor of breathing in that sweetness deep.

She was slow stirring, a manicured hand coaxing her awake. Nails dragged over the well-built planes of her back, lingering every so often—teasing those stinging marks scattered across.

Locs tickled her skin, a mouth lowering to Sevika’s ear, “Good morning,” the woman whispered, breath warm.

“It’s too early,” Sevika grumbled, arm folding over her head.

The woman chuckled in response, soft curves filling the little space between them as she leaned in further, mouth searching before it found Sevika’s. She kissed her slow and indulgent, drinking in her complaints.

A particularly distracting hand wandered, dipping lower and lower, following that trail of hair before pressing against the hard line between Sevika’s stomach and hips.

“…You still heading out—?”

“Mhm.”

“Towels are in the closet beside the bathroom,” Sevika said, “You might have to jiggle the door if it gets stuck.” she warned as her mouth drew away.

One more kiss pressed against the shell of Sevika’s ear before the woman slipped out of bed.

Only then did Sevika crack open one dark eye, tracking the sway of their hips—that rich, inked and bruised skin —across the room.

A wicked grin split across her face at the sight, more than content to let her eyes close once more as a bone-deep satisfaction lulled her back to sleep.

A few hours had past, and then—

Beep.

Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Bee-

A hand slapped away the phone, sending it across the room with a curse.

Sevika sat up, rolling her neck. She didn’t bother reaching for her prosthetic just yet, that aching sensation setting her skin aflame.

Inhaling deep, she rose, shuffling across the room at a lethargic pace in search of that wretched device.

Squinting at the cracked screen, she grimaced, before answering the call.

Sevika worked a lot of odd jobs.

It was usually grunt work, dirty jobs that made her tax-guy’s skin itch each season. Some nights and weekends she worked at the bar just for some semblance of stability.

Most days, however, she was a glorified assistant. After her last stint blew up in her face, she landed a job at a farce of a ‘non-profit’ that kept her bills paid and vices fed.

Technically, today was her day off.

Yet here she was—again.

The upper buttons of her vest popped again in protest as she adjusted the dark cuffs of her sleeves, fiddling with the silver cufflinks.

Sevika exited the glinting elevators, schooling her expression as she headed towards the meeting room.

Suits miled inside the room. Sharply tailored pants, oversized blazers, and leather holsters. All settled around that large spanning oak desk—air thick with the taste of burning metal.

She flanked the other side of the large, leather chair, folding her arms in front of her-- mirroring the stance of the beared, behemoth of a man on the other side.

They didn’t have to wait long before the doors slammed open again. A broad shouldered, sharp faced Black woman in a tailored suit took heavy strides across the room. Everyone she passed sat up a little straighter, any lingering chatter ceasing all at once.

Ambessa Medarda.

She was more of a force of nature than a person, to be frank. Every time she stepped into a room she couldn’t help but pull focus, to demand respect. And it wasn’t because of her stature, but because of her history.

The weight of her heavy hands-- casted in iron and blood-- effectively scattered the remains of the two fractured cities.

Lines were drawn, far more complicated than before.

Not far behind Ambessa was the curious clicking of heels. A flutter of white silk and a shapely pencil skirt catching the attention of the room.

Tall, dark, and—

Dripping with gold.

Sevika stiffened.

Hazel eyes flitted around the room, landing briefly on Sevika, before looking away just as quickly. The woman sat down beside Ambessa, her back to Sevika as she quietly shuffled through her stacks of paper.

Seeing the two next to each other, it was impossible not to see the resemblance.

Sevika set two glasses down on the counter before busying herself with making the drinks.

The woman perched herself on top of the bar stool, shrugging off the blazer to reveal the intricate geometric tattoos blazing across her shoulders and arms.

She crossed her legs, wiping her hands and face clean with a damp napkin before flicking open a compact mirror .

“Are you always so accommodating?” she asked with softly accented words, peering into the small mirror.

“Depends on who I’m accommodating,” Sevika said over her shoulder.

“You don’t even know my name,” The woman notes, snapping the compact closed and tucking it into her bra.

Sevika’s eyes followed the movement, pouring her a drink and pushing it across the counter.

She settled her weight against the counter, crowding into the other woman’s space, “You got a name then?”

The woman traced a nail along the rim of the glass, looking up through half-lidded eyes as she gave her a coy smile.

Ambessa addressed the room with a disinterested look, kicking up her heavy boots, “This is my daughter,” she said plainly, lifting a hand towards the woman in question, never once looking her way, “She is my blood and represents the House of Medarda. You will address her as you would me.”

Sevika wondered what type of expression the younger Medarda wore, faced with all those hot-blooded eyes pinning her down all at once.

There were many ways to get ahead in this type of business. Some methods more violent than others—but there was a tried and true tradition—

Ambessa’s jaw was tight, lips sharply turned in distaste, “And you will keep your hands to yourself,” she hotly added.

Metal and skin—large hands palmed at the curve of the woman’s thighs. Sevika pulled her closer to the edge of the counter, skirt bunching up to her hips.

The woman’s back arched, gasping as she steadied herself. She gripped Sevika’s shoulders desperate to get closer to that relentless, wet heat.

“Fu- Oh, God—“

Sevika abruptly pulled away—much to the woman’s displeasure--nosing at the patch of curls, “That’s not my name,” she teased, drinking in the sight. That pretty face, impatient, slowly losing composure.

“You’re so—“ The woman’s hands shot up the back of Sevika’s neck, tangling in her hair as she gasped, “Se—“

“-vika.“ Ambessa snapped, snatching her attention.

Most of the other goons and we’re dispersed for their assignments at this point, leaving her personal aids and her daughter behind.

Sevika inclined her head in acknowledgement, bracing herself.

“Escort Amelia to our estate, “ Ambessa ordered, rising from her seat, “Her personal guard is indisposed at the moment, so you’ll accompany her until further notice.”

“…Yes, Ma’am.” Sevika replied.

“I’m not a taxi,” Sevika said, jerking her chin to redirect the woman.

The woman stopped herself, startled, before she slid into the passenger seat instead, seatbelt clicking on.

“Where to?” Sevika asked, glancing at her side mirrors as she pulled out of her parking space.

The woman’s brow furrowed,“ I can’t go home tonight…” she admitted, fidgeting with the skewed buttons of her top, eyes downcast.

The passenger door closed.

Sevika’s fingers thrummed against the steering wheel, cocking an eyebrow up, “Amelia….Merdarda,” she repeated, disbelieving.

She said her name slow, testing the weight of it on her tongue, trying to match the metallic taste with her memories from the prior night.

Amelia stared out the window, hands folded in her lap, polite expression strained—but it didn’t falter. It was as if she quietly receded into herself, that flickering warmth dulled, “I’d rather you call me Mel,” she murmured.

Sevika sighed, “Okay—Mel,” she started, deciding to get straight to the point, “Does she know?” she asked, starting the car up and quickly pulling out of the parking space.

Mel closed her eyes, tilting her head back against the leather seat. Her profile flickered, shadows cutting across her stark as the lights of the parking garage rippled past, “That we met? Yes,” she answered, slowly, “That we had...relations? God no,” she muttered, brow furrowing a bit, “And she can’t find out. If we give that woman an inch, she’ll drag us for miles for shitting where we eat,” she added on bitterly.

There were many ways to get ahead in this type of business. Some methods more violent than others—but there was a tried and true tradition and—

Ambessa had zero tolerance for indulgence in the workplace. Even less so for people who relied on it—letting it muddy the waters between excellence and greatness. Even if it wasn’t their intentions—she’d make her own assumptions and deal with them accordingly.

Sevika considered her for a moment, weighing the possibilities in her mind. Scrutinizing that pretty face—so sweet, so carefully put together. It's easy to assume she was lying—misleading her—and it certainly wouldn’t be the first time Ambessa would lure them— test them to see what makes them tick.

Yesterday, Mel was shaken up, bleeding—yet so easily put herself back together.

Sevika glanced down at Mel’s lap—her hands were clenched together tight—fingers trembling ever so slightly.

In the little time she’s known Mel, she’s never seen her so—uncomfortable.

Sevika made up her mind all at once.

“Any reason she assigned me to you?” Sevika gruffly asked, flicking on the heated seats, passing their exit and abruptly turning into a side-road instead—the scenic route.

“It’s a…practical choice, “ Mel reasoned, “She doesn’t have the time to vett new personale for me—and she’d never delegate the task to anyone else— so she chose someone who already reports to her directly,” she continued, eyes opening to cast a thoughtful, side-long glance, “She must trust you,” she notes under her breath.

Sevika’s face darkens at that—Trust was a dangerous thing to receive. It wasn’t something Ambessa treated lightly.

The pair fell into silence, Mel watching the long winding roads of the city shift as they entered the countryside. The tension in her body slowly eased, fingers trailing against the window—a silent dance. Those closely guarded musings kept just out of reach.

There were a lot of questions Sevika still had for Mel—but there was one ever persistent thought.

“What… happened to your other bodyguard?” Sevika asked. It was a prickling, innocuous detail that her mind couldn’t help but pick over.

That night—that encounter.

Mel’s fingers stilled, the dance incomplete as Sevika’s words hung between them, “How would I know?” she evenly responded, a murky reflection staring back in the glass, “I was with you all night, wasn’t I?”

Or at least—that’s how the story would be told.

#Arcane #Arcane fanfiction #mel medarda #Sevika #Mel arcane #Sevika arcane #melvika #mel x sevika #fanfiction #writing

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kirans-wonderland · 2 years ago

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Azul Birthday Special~

~~~~~

Oh Shrimpy channnnnnn~” Floyd said busting into your room in the early hours of the morning. You thanked the Great Seven that the cold weather had you sleeping in decent attire. The sudden noise jolted you as your head whipped around to see the eel that had entered your room. To your surprise, you saw Jade trailing not far behind Floyd. “Jade? You’re not a regular trespassing offender- FLOYD! Did you take off the door locks again!?” Floyd just smiled as he dropped the locking mechanisms onto your desk from behind his back. “Whaaat? Me? Never~” The eel said feigning innocence. It wasn’t even eight in the morning and you were already pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. “To what do I owe the “honor” of this visit?” Jade walked further into your room with a calmer expression then that of his brother, holding something in his gloved hands. “Are you aware of the date?” Well that was an.. odd question. “Friday? February 24th?… Azul’s birthday?” You listed off, fishing for what answer he wanted. “Yes. You are correct. It is Azul’s birthday” Jade said before Floyd cut in abruptly from beside you slinging an arm around your shoulders. “And since you don’t have something for him we brought you something~” “Actually I do have someth-“ You tried to interject but Jade interrupted. “Floyd is correct, we brought a card for you to sign and give him.” You eyed the card that they had brought you turning it over in your hands. It was quite the elegant looking card. “Well that’s strangely nice of you…” You opened the card to read what had been written inside. It was a normal happy birthday message and underneath the name Azul Ashengrotto. The name was penned in gold ink. … a very familiar gold ink. You eyed the card and then the twins suspiciously. “Well, thank you… but I already have a card for him” You said trying to hand the card back to Jade. “Nonsense! This card is much better.” The calmer twin pushed the card back towards you. That confirmed your suspicions, but you decided it would be better to go along with them. “Alright. Thank you both. I shall include this in my gift to him.” You set the card down on your desk before trying to usher them out the door. “I’ll see you later. And Floyd… PLEASE stop taking my locks off!” Floyd laughed mischievously as the two eels walked down the hallway.

You sat at your desk looking over the card to see if it was really what you thought. Lo and behold there was a loose corner. Picking at that corner revealed that the blank side of the card was a cover for writing underneath. This “birthday card” was a contract. The hidden writing revealed that the one who signed the card would be obligated to spend the whole day with the card’s recipient. Oh. Wonderful. With a relationship clause too. You chuckled at Azul’s underhanded methods to try and get you to spend time with him. All he had to do was ask.

Later that morning you showed up to the Mostro Lounge and knocked on the door to his office. Azul opened the door with an already smug smile. “Ah welcome, come in come in” You had to stifle a laugh. When the door had closed you turned to him. “Happy Birthday Azul!” You presented him with his gift. “Why thank you darling you shouldn’t have~” He still smiled believing he had won. He opened the gift and pulled out the envelope. He couldn’t help a look of surprise adorning his face when he saw the card. This was not the same one he had instructed the tweels to give you that morning. After he opened the gift itself, he thanked you regardless but he couldn’t help but be a bit confused. “You’re welcome~” You paused letting him stir in thought for just a while longer. “Oh! And one more thing.” Pulling out the contract card you placed it on his desk. “I know you like contracts to be signed in your presence” You said smugly reaching for his pen. Azul’s face was priceless. He looked utterly lost and his faced had flushed. He was embarrassed that he had been caught in his trap. “How… you.. how did you… know?” You chuckled and signed the card with your name. “This. Your gold ink Azul. You only use this stuff for contacts so you can’t blame me for being suspicious. Azul jumped when you finished your signature. “But you didn’t read the-“ You cut him off. “I read the fine print Azul. I agree, even to your relationship clause” You smiled at his now red and stuttering face. “And even though not collateral was stated, how about this?” You placed a soft kiss to his cheek. Azul took a second to regain his composure, taking a breath before looking into your eyes. “No, I do not believe that is enough.” “No?” You quirked a brow, wondering what he was going to do. “No.” Azul stated again before he pulled you into an actual kiss. When he pulled away, his hands lingered on your hips. “I think that should suffice. For now. I may have to put you on a long term payment plan” Azul joked. “Azul, you need to learn how to straight up ask for things” You laughed at the silly business minded octopus. “Happy birthday~”

#kirs writing desk #twst #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #azul twst #azul x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #azul x you

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venomgaia · 9 months ago

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A mutual acquaintance wants to try getting one of those fancy pens, got any suggestions for newcomers?

Absolutely!

Despite me always pining for the super pricy fancy pens, some of the best pens you can own imo are less than $20 USD off the bat, and while the "nicer" ones out there are. over that price, you don't really need that to get a really good first experience. I'll offer some super easy pens, some more intermediate pens, and some inks! This is going to be a long ride, so buckle up!

If you don't know where to start and are intimidated by bottled ink and instead want a pen that can write right away, I recommend the Pilot Varsity! You can get them at Michaels here in the US, and theyre slowly becoming more popular in retail shops like Walmart.

Classic steel nib, not much flex because it's steel, but it writes pretty sturdily. I really like that it comes in different colors. They're disposable, so if you don't like them then you dont gotta keep 'em, and if you bust the nib by accident (we all have at least once), you aren't going to have to sell a kidney to replace it like you might need to with pricier pens.

If you want a pen you can put ink cartridges into, or just want a good workhorse of a pen, i HIGHLY recommend the Platinum Preppy. The one I own was $14 USD and came with a cartridge of water soluble black ink. For $4 USD, I got 4 cartridges of Platinum's Carbon Black ink, which is waterproof and smooth! Very versatile!

I REALLY like this one. Ive never had the ink dry out even when i had tucked away for like a month, and if you ever want to use it with bottled ink, you can get a Platinum converter and use whatever fountain pen safe ink you dream of :] This pen only comes in F as far as I know (which is a western EF), but the chinese market has a version called the Platinum Meteor that comes in EF and has a cute shooting star on the nib :] Back when I started writing this I had lost mine for like a month but just found it and it wrote just fine the second i opened it up. The only thing I DISLIKE is that the converter cartridges are sold separately and you HAVE to buy platinum brand for this pen. I already have two bc of my other platinum pens, but. Yanno. Its still annoying to HAVE to do that.

Similarly, the Kaküno is fantastic! all the above statements, but it has the added benefit of having a cute face on the nib as well as some cute collabs sometimes :] They're also about $14-$16 USD. They take Pilot cartridges in various colors, which are $3-$4 USD and Pilot converters.

I highly recommend the platinum preppy for the full fountain pen experience! It's not mega-expensive as pens go, so if you dont like it you havent sunk hundreds of dollars into a tool.

Lamy is having quality control issues that no one seems to want to contest because of their popularity, and the recent "no bro its totally the same color as the old popular one trust me" ink fiasco. TWSBI is another brand thats normally recommended and while theyre good pens, theyre shitheads as a company and like to use their muscle to bully both retailers and also smaller pen companies. I dont recommend either brand right now.

NOW, ONTO INK AND PAPER:

Your nib, paper, and ink are pretty important. fountain pens dont like rough paper, but they handle it better the larger they are (M, B). Dry inks will not always play nice in fine pens (Ef, F), and an EF pen will eat the shit out of rough paper and can get clogged. If you can get your hands on Rhodia paper to practice, good! If not most sketchbooks will tolerate F pens in my experience. Stillman and Birn are my workhorse sketchbooks and the pens work fine in all of their paper styles, but Hobby Lobby's sketchbooks also handle it well, as do BLICK's colorful leather sketchbooks. Don't Buy Moleskine. If you want to get really good ink effects (ie, you bought an ink with glitter or it has some cool effect like sheening or shading), tomoe river paper is hailed as the gold standard, but you can get similar effects on Rhodia or Clairfontaine paper, which afaik is easier to get ahold of overseas (cant speak for other countries on the US continent, but I will say I saw more clairfontaine in france than here on the us).

NOW FOR INK. my favorite part :] :

For both Waterproof and Black ink, i recommend Platinum's Carbon Black. I think it's pigment-based, unlike most dye-based inks, so it can be tough to clean out of your pen if it dries, but its noting a lil soap and water cant fix :3 It's benefit is that it comes in cartridges usable with platinum pens, so you dont need a whole bottle if you dont want one.

For color inks, I really like Pilot's Iroshizuku line. It is a WET ink and is not waterproof, but they come in cool bottles and pretty colors. I own Ajisai, Shinkai, and samples of Momiji, Murasaki Shikibu, Chikurin, Kosumosu, and Asagao. I use them both to sketch AND to color things and write. My workhorse non-waterproof color, the one i draw most in, is the Sailor Studio 343, but the sailor manyo line is also great! If you like and/or miss scented inks, De Atramentis has a line of them!

Be careful with inks that have glitter. I own the J. Herbin Emerald of Chivor and its glorious but if you leave it in your pen...thousands soaks hell attack. That being said if it would entice you, treat yourself to a fun and shiny ink! I have Colorverse Scorpii Glistening and its really pretty! Diamine has an excellent range that are easier on your pen but I dont have experience with them ngl.

UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE SHOULD YOU BUY ANYTHING FROM NOODLERS. aside from having a shithead of a company leader, their inks are actually pretty volatile and can blow up both vintage and modern pens and im speaking from experience even though I used to use their eel bulletproof black and a waterproof blue one. I ended up using the blue ink to dye a cu chulainn wig darker for a wip alter cu cosplay. the last ink i bought, Tchaikovsky, also had a strange and suspicious stank about it.

Buying inks in bottles can be super expensive, but Goulet Pens sells 2ml samples that you can buy a shitload of and try them all out! I try to get new samples on the rare occasion when i need a new bottle of my favorites :> I'll probably buy a full bottle of Sailor Nekoyanagi, Pilot Iroshizuku Chikurin, or Diamine Writer's Blood next.

I hope this helps! I had to edit it a few times over the course of the past few weeks bc i went on an entire tangent about bootleg pens I like and uh. realized thats both overly complicated for the base question/bootleg pens tend to need tweaking to work nice. that being said, i'll say it quickly: buying lil nibs from aliexpress has actually worked pretty well for me n my tswbi knockoff (lanbitou 3059) has a fude nib i got that's bent to allow brushlike strokes! but I donmt recommend it for a first pen bc it required some grease and a nib tweak upon purchase and dries p easily bc of the cap.

#SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER I DIED BUT I GOT A LITTLE BETTER!#going though all my inboxes now and. eeheh ive got srt to draw now...#not art #tldr. buy platinum preppy. get ink samples from goulet pens and a platinum converter OR #get a platinum refill cartridge of the carbon ink #waterproof isnt importsnt if you dont use watercolors and gouache like i do i suppose. hur i can confirm it stands up to HEAVY water abuse #thanks for the ask!#for paper rhodia seems to be most accessible. tomoe paper hard to buy. i still dont own any...#BUT i got a clairfontaine notebook for pen testing from goulet a while ago

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rowanthestrange · 1 year ago

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you like fountain pens? tell me about your favorite inks!

i'll tell you about mine in exchange :)

Okay, but I’m a fresh newbie to it all, having once again been autistic and gone ‘oooh tactile experiences with colours’, and made the mistake of touching something that has ensnared autistics for centuries.

I’ve got Diamine inks because they’re so cheap here with a good range.

Colour corrected as best as possible. Cerise is a brighter pinkier pink when it gets going, and Amber is yellow when you start but goes orange in the nib by the second time you pick it up, hence the unexpected Golden Sands purchase.

I like pangrams that feel fitting to the colours, which ended up with me having to make them up now lol - Celadon Cat and Golden Sands.

Pen wise…the community will probably hate me but there were these wooden pens that came with refillable cartridges and they were only five bucks. So that meant I could slowly acquire more and more for each ink, and colour them, and the wood feels nice in my hand cus i hate the feel of plastic it’s like school and-

(Washi tape on the glitter ones Blue Flame Shimmer (blue and gold glitter), and Golden Ivy Shimmer (you can guess) to mark them as separate. …And on Mondobbos Hat because apparently my eyes really struggle with the difference between their dark purple and Macassar brown in low light, and I keep making the mistake.)

When people didn’t know what to get me for a present this year, I just pointed them at the pens and… I have been enabled.

They’re not all perfect, there’s some variability in nib width - I’ve got one that needs squeezing before attempting to write (Golden Ivy one, but at least the glitter doesn’t clump) and one scratchy. But for the price, eh, that’s an alright percentage. Did need to seal the barrel metal with an all-purpose finish though, cus someone skimped on anti-oxidising costs, but I’m alright with that.

My main problem was finding notebooks that worked. Avocado And Spice have changed their branding and with it apparently their damn paper, so they were a bust. Surprisingly the very cheap Amazon Notebooks are perfectly good with no bleeding or real bleedthrough. But my favourite are these, because when I got it I went: *sigh*, okay let’s set up a test page at the back…and it already had one. Marked Test Page. Has a contents and numbered pages too, with great paper with no bleed or bleedthrough, and a nice feeling cover. Bargain.

At the moment it’s my chill-out hobby, or something to do when my heart starts acting up (god that makes me sound old). I’m currently writing out the first pages of my favourite books. It’s a cool exercise to try. Shows you how little consistency there is in grammar and punctuation choices, and how little they matter. As well as getting the creative juices flowing.

#rowan rants #pens #arts & crafts

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unholyhelbig · 2 years ago

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wait... it's ending??!

[A/n: I can’t believe that this is over. I also can’t believe that I pigeon-holed myself into writing a fight scene. Who does that?? Me. The answer is me. In all seriousness, I want to thank every single one of you who read this insane story. It was a wild ride (maybe not one that’s actually over yet… I can’t tell).

Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments and the kudos and just so much overwhelming love! I’m going to take a little break from the heavy stuff and supply some fluff here in the next few weeks!

As always, I didn’t proofread this, so there may be some spelling and grammar mistakes.]

Summary: Bodies start popping up within the city drained of blood and torn at the throat. Detective Ava Silva and her new partner Beatrice Alexander are determined to crack the case before more victims are discovered. But when recent technological advancements threaten how things are done, Beatrice has to put more trust in her partner than ever before.

Trigger warning: Please respect your triggers- like any creature feature there is blood, and death, and violence.

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Request Prompts

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Dt🧛: @littleskrimp, @moreorlez, @lazyashell, @gold-dust-angel @hypertic

The Blood Ties that Bind | Chapter Six | Ava Silva x Sister Beatrice

“I wouldn’t mind roughing the guy up a little, that’s all I’m saying.” His hands were firm on the steering wheel, thumbs running over the ribbed leather absentmindedly. It was raining and the windshield wipers were putting in the work. They gave Ava a small moment of clarity before everything became warped again, a painting of neons and dimly lit storefronts. “That’s all I’m saying.”

She had her foot up on the dash, preoccupied with rolling the fabric of her pants just up above her socks. Her shoes were soaked and so was the hem of her jeans. What Ava wouldn’t give to crawl out of her skin right about now. It had been penanced for forgetting the umbrella under the seat of the Impala.

“Yeah, I’m sure you would, but the world doesn’t work that way. Izzie would rather have you at her graduation than him, anyway. No use busting your knuckles and ending up in the drunk tank for that low-life.”

Ava knew something was wrong when JC had given up on holding the newspaper above his head to catch the stray drops of rain. The ink was running in black, leaving little black smudges on his shirt. He’d dropped his hand, leaned his forehead against the top of the payphone with a heaving sigh visible through the car’s window.

His father, a man that Ava only knew by reputation, was meant to fly home just a day before JC himself would board a plane and return to his stomping ground. His sister Isabella was graduating, and despite never being present, the family held out hope that just this once, he’d show up.

“What excuse was it this time?” She asked.

“Tammy is sick, the flu, some type of stomach bug.” He pulled onto the freeway, jerking the tires just a little too fast in the rain. He righted the car. “He was apologetic, that’s what Ma’ says anyway. I don’t believe it, though. Not like he’s the one yacking up leftovers.”

Ava cringed at the mental image, but let it go. When JC got like this, it was better to let him stew in it. He didn’t want advice, or comfort. No, he wanted something to take his mind off things. So she flicked on the scanner and filled the cab of the car with the dull hum of radio static interrupted here and there with the signals and codes.

They were patient people, usually waiting for the Chief to assign them homicides. The uniforms would hadn’t the robberies, the APB’s and the traffic tickets. Domestic’s, they stayed away from entirely. But sometimes, if the day was right, they’d take the bait wriggling on a metal hook.

“All units be aware, report of a 10851 in progress. Blue Austin Allegra. License plate number; Victor, Queen, Nora 8765. Advised 22350.”

Ava smiled “You know what would cheer you up?”

“A handle of vodka?”

“Yes, but not on shift.” Ava tapped his shoulder “We should find that car.”

“If we happen upon the car, I wouldn’t mind stopping a theft. But it’s a big city, Silva. Chances, we’ll see it. Slim to none.”

Ava grinned regardless, taking this as a win. It was hard to keep a straight face when she smiled like that. JC let the ghost of happiness pass over his lips, but it made a home in the attic of his eyes. His grip loosened on the steering wheel.

They stopped at a burger place just at the edge of the city. It was wedged between the train depot, long since turned into a museum that had railroad spikes imprisoned in a glass case, and a large, immobile engine that was permanently parked against the tracks.

JC parked the car under the awnings and they placed their order before taking solace on the hood. He laid his jacket down, sopping up the chill of the water. “Such a gentleman Detective Garcia.”

“Shove off,” He said as he shoved fries into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “How much PTO do you have?”

Ava grimaced, tried to the math in her head “Don’t know. Maybe like, a hundred.”

“Just so happens a ticket to Izzie’s graduation has opened up. We can get you a cheap flight.”

“Meeting the family? After all the shit you’ve spewed at them?”

“Ava, come on! You’ve got enough paid time off to take a goddamn year for yourself. I’m only asking for a weekend.” He took a bite of his burger, grease dripping from his chin.

She’d already known the answer the second that he asked. Of course, she’d get on the plane with him. It was effortless, an agreement that came to her like breathing the balmy air around them. Before she could answer, her eyes locked onto a dark blue Austin Allegra. It looked nearly black in the gray light of midday.

“What was the license plate on that 10851?”

JC shrugged, but pushed off the trunk of the car. He opened the drivers side door, pulled out a napkin, scrawled with ink. “VGN8765. That our car?”

“Looking like it.” He nodded at her as she reached for the radio, abandoning the prospect of finishing lunch. She spoke into the receiver. “Detective’s Garcia and Silva, eyes on 10851. Proceeding to Eastbound 95, in pursuit.”

“10-4”

The taillights pulsed like a blinking demon in the stormy weather. Their car was unmarked, but even still, it was Government issued and easily recognizable. JC was careful to stay a few paces behind.

Two miles in, exiting the freeway, JC flicked the lights on the grill of the car on. They clicked, cicadas among the static of the radio. Everything was muted within the car. The Allegra stalled, brake lights bleeding red. The rain picked up enough for him to switch on the windshield wipers too.

“Oh, fucking shit, he’s going to run.” JC said.

The Allegra switched lance, pressed down on the gas. JC followed suit, the tires hesitating on the we asphalt for only a moment before he picked up speed. Car chases were few and far between, nothing like what they portrayed on ‘Chips’.

Cars would pull out of the way as they caught wind of the red and blue lights flashing. The Allegra weaved in and out and JC kept formidable speed. Ava kept her thumb on the transmission for the radio. “Suspect refuses to pull over, requesting backup.”

“10-20?”

“Corner of Montgomery and Alan, heading northeast.”

“Copy. Backup dispatched.”

They turned the corner, nearly swiping a side-mirror. The Allegra picked up speed, the rain fell harder. There was a calm in the cab of the car that did not reflect the quickness of the situation. She felt the car shift gears, the scent of burning rubber filled her lungs.

When the car failed them, it did so with purpose. Things slowed, there was an adept lack of control as it met the road. Metal upon cement, crunching so easily as if it were nothing but tinfoil to begin with. Ava felt the impact of the airbag, smelled the powder that coated every inch of the cab.

They flipped once, twice, something that Ava learned later. She had clenched her eyes shut, braced herself as the Impala landed on it’s roof and slid half a block, scraping against shattered glass and rock.

Two minutes, she was unconscious for two minutes before dragging in a breath that reeked of petrol and smoke. There was blood, blood that was dripping from her forehead onto the roof of the car. The seatbelt sawed into her throat. She rushed to unlatch it, but thought better of it.

The headlights flickered against the storm and her ears rung. She wasn’t underwater but moved as if she was. She was disoriented, fingers shaking. The radio still worked, still grumbled in it’s fruitless hum.

“10-20? Detective Garcia. Detective Silva, 10-20?”

Shattered glass cut into the palm of her hand. She coughed, tried to get the chemical burn from her lungs. Ava couldn’t feel her legs, her feet, her toes. She choked back a sob, trying to push the though aside. Respond. Respond.

“10-20? We have units enroute. 10-20 Detectives?”

Ava hated the quiet, and quiet it was. The car had settled in it’s movements, aside from the operator trying again, and again in her attempt to reach them, there was nothing. She fumbled, felt glass dig into her palm as she searched for the receiver.

“Detective Silva,” Ava’s voice was shaking, forced “There’s been an accident. Send fire, ambulance. Montgomery and… and twelfth, I think.”

“Copy.” There was a pause, she pressed the receiver to her head, breathed “Are you injured?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know.”

“Garcia?”

Ava hadn’t looked. Couldn’t look. She knew the answer, just as she had known that she would get on the plane with him and go to his little sister's graduation. It came as naturally to her as breathing.

Ava woke up screaming. She didn’t realize the sound was coming from her at first, that much was a given by how much it shocked her. It lodged in her throat, cut through the quiet of the room that she didn’t recognize at first, and even when she was oriented, couldn’t grasp it in her memory. She’d dreamt of the crash.

The interior was dark, the air cleaner here than in her own apartment. The sheets were darker, softer. There was the scent of balsam wood in the air. The walls were blank save for some tasteful photos of the city, black and white.

Detective Alexander was on the edge of the bed in the few seconds it took Ava to draw in a breath. She’d been sitting in an olive-green chair under a light that seemed much too bright, so Ava looked away, clenched her eyes shut. It was too much.

“Hey, hey” Beatrice’s words were soothing, her hand on the side of her face a blanket of ice. Ava leaned into it. “Take it easy, alright?”

She swallowed hard, trying to sooth the dry soreness in her throat. Her body ached; her limbs felt like they needed a pint of oil to get kickstarted. And her jaw, her jaw was like a loaded gun, the bullets resting just below the soft flesh of her gums. Her only salvation was Beatrice, steady and strong, right in front of her.

“It’s a lot, I know.” Her thumb swiped against Ava’s cheek. “I’m going to turn off the lamp.”

Ava let out a small whimper in response. She missed the closeness instantly, and savored the darkness that followed. The bed dipped once more and she found the courage to force one eye open, and then the other.

“Beatrice,” her voice broke, chin trembling “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m scared.”

The woman shifted her gaze, let a tear streak down her cheek. It landed on the duvet. She elegantly wiped them away, refused to let it get any further. “Ava, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t understand.” She frowned.

The world was brighter, even in the dark. Everything was more defined. She swore, no, assumed that she could hear something moving past the heavy oak door. A conversation was being had. Hushed voices as if they were trying to keep something from her. Ava’s jaw pulsed with pain in tandem with her heart. Was it slower? Was it just less noticeable?

Beatrice placed a hand on her knee “There is no easy way to say this.”

“It has something to do with the church. That man. He was so angry.”

Beatrice laughed wetly, shook her head. “Yeah, Ava. He’s an angry man. He’d do anything to hurt me, and it turns out, the best way to do that was to hurt you.”

“And he did, didn’t he? He hurt me?”

“Yes, Ava. He hurt you.” Beatrice clenched her jaw, and then unclenched it. “He killed you.”

“Oh.”

Ava drew her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. The fabric felt too soft, the detergent that clung to it was strong, but she hugged herself closer and the sensations ebbed away into something of normalcy.

There were flashes of teeth, of the metallic taste of blood wetting her tongue. A man in a civil war uniform washed out and gray. A scripture that played like the end credits of a movie. And Detective Alexander- Beatrice- with her honeyed eyes.

“There are things in this world that don’t simply die. A gray area where Adriel, Vincent, and I live. Though, I resent grouping us together. We are not one and the same and” Beatrice slowed her words when she met Ava’s eyes, widened, pulpy with fear. “Vampires. Fright Night style vampires.”

That was ridiculous. Ava knew it down in her core that this could be some type of elaborate prank. They’d gone to lengths, she’d admit- renting out an entire church with a musty carpet and foul-tasting communion wine.

Had it not been for the blinding white pain in her neck, the small start of a scream that was choked down due to her imminent death, then she would have swallowed back all of those longing thoughts about the woman in front of her and filed a restraining order.

“That’s impossible,” Ava whispered.

“I assure you, it’s not. And while I would have greatly preferred to have told you in a gentler way, this is the reality. What happened to you, Ava, it was unfair.”

“And what exactly happened? Because one minute I was having a normal conversation about a connection to our case and then the next, I’m… dead?”

Beatrice shifted on the bed, ran her hand across her pants, it left a small damp mark on the fabric. She opened her mouth as if she were going to say something, and then thought better of it before finally committing to what was dancing on the tip of her tongue.

“Adriel is a man that preys on fear, and it took me a long time to realize that. It took me until 1919 which happened to be one of the worst years in history, speaking strictly from experience. We were in an eatery, and he had every single person in there slaughtered because attention wasn’t on him for once.”

Ava had to take a shallow breath to swallow back her comment about the year. That, she would ask about later, if she so chose. Right now, she was doing everything in her power not to vomit up whatever she’d forced down.

“I had always despised my choice- my cowardice- when it came to becoming a vampire. I did it out of fear, but I also did it of my own will. I followed Adriel for years, decades, thinking that his way was the only way until I decided it wasn’t.”

“And he did this to me in order to spite you?”

Beatrice nodded, “I finally let my guard down enough to truly care about someone and it made me vulnerable to his tactics. More than anything, it made you a target, and for that, if you never forgive me for that- if you decide that this isn’t what you want, then, I’m behind you. I’m behind you 100%.”

“And if I decide that this isn’t what I want?” Ava’s voice came out as a raspy whisper “What happens then?”

The darkness of the room swam around them. It took a few moments for Beatrice to muster anything that was akin to words. Ava waited patiently, counted the slow beats in her temples. The world was so loud, and Ava was overwhelmed, tempted to give in to the pain without knowing the facts.

“To complete your transition, you need to drink human blood. If you decide that this isn’t what you’d like, then the venom that’s in your system will shut down your organs one by one until you’re gone… truly gone.” Her voice shook, “And if that is the case, then we’ll make you as comfortable as possible. You won’t feel a thing. I promise.”

Ava let out a small noise and flopped down into the bed. Everything was spinning. The dresser was where the bookshelf should have been, and the overhead ceiling fan was now on the floor. But Beatrice was the main constant.

She knelt by the side of the bed, waiting patiently. Ava had draped an arm over her eyes dramatically, but still, her frown was visible. It was a thinking expression and that gave Beatrice a flurry of hope.

“There were countless times in my career when I should have died. Times when guns were fired and knives were pulled. Most notably when an Impala flipped, and I lost the closest thing I ever had to a brother. And when I finally did die it was like something out of a movie rented from Blockbuster.”

Ava moved her arm from her eyes, turned her head to stare at Beatrice. The warmth radiated from her, oozed in waves.

“For so long I believed that I didn’t deserve to live. JC should have been the one to survive that crash, he should have been able to go to his sister’s graduation and he should still be here today.” Her words were choked now, tears streaking across her cheeks, making them damp. “Who am I to make this choice? Who am I to live an infinite life when his was cut short?”

“Oh, Ava” Beatrice reached forward tentatively, using her thumb to wipe away the tears. “You cannot control everything, but you can control this. You’ve fought hard for this long. I’m not trying to force your hand, believe me, this is a weighted decision. But if your concern lies in your value to this world, then make no mistake- it is infinite.”

It was heated up in the microwave and somehow, out of everything she had learned in the past twenty-four hours, everything she had felt, including her own neck snapping under the pressure of an immortal hand, this was the worst. It wasn’t’ that Ava had an aversion to leftovers, it was quite the opposite, but her stomach took a nose-dive at the smarting scent that filled the air as the small machine let out three tonal beeps.

This was normal, she told herself, she was just going to swallow a mug of very-human blood from a novelty mug that had a faded logo for NASA scrawled across the front. Not only that, but she was damned to do it in front of an audience.

Ava was unsteady on her feet at first. They felt foreign on the cold wooden floor. But, as always, Beatrice was there with a confident hand on the small of her back, leading her through the maze of a high-rise apartment. Despite the dark and the multitude of windows, she couldn’t bring herself to stare out at the endless city beneath them. She would most certainly hurl.

“Are hallucinations part of the deal?”

Ava lifted her chin towards her neighbor, who leaned against the counter in the kitchen with her arms crossed. Mary had leveled the girl who stood across the island with a toxic stare. It softened, however, when she saw Ava.

“I assure you; she is really here.” The stranger said, “I’m Lilith, and you must be Ava.”

“Great detective skills, Lestat.” Mary said coolly.

Beatrice cleared her throat, somehow commanding a hush over the room, though Mary clenched and unclenched her jaw as if she was holding back an explosion of expletives. Ava was guided to one of the barstools, and she was thankful to sit down.

It was then that Beatrice set a mug of steaming blood in front of her in a NASA mug. And it was then that Ava began to question her choice. It seemed so simple, chug the scalding liquid, choke it down, become an immortal creature that never had to fear death again, but maybe had to fear garlic or mirrors- she hadn’t exactly asked about logistics.

“So, I just… drink it and then it’s done?”

“It’s never really done.” Lilith got an elbow to the ribs, growled softly “I mean, yes. Technically speaking.”

Ava nodded, and cupped the mug like it was tea and not thick and sticky. She was really, truly, doing this. Mary seemed to have the good sense to turn away, maybe it was out of disgust, or maybe Ava’s fear for the future just carried across the room.

The first sip barely touched her lips. She wanted to reel back, the heat of the liquid scalding. But, when Ava swiped her tongue over it, the aching in her jaw pulsed to something much less painful. It was salty, pungent. She waited a moment and took a gulp, then another.

It was different than the blood she had inevitably swallowed in the church. Adriel’s blood was cold and clotted and clearly mixed with something to dilute the flavor into something akin to very aged wine. This was soothing, like pulling a shawl over her shoulders during an ice storm. There was warmth, but there was also the lingering feeling of how long it would take to get her hands on something more suited for the weather.

She’d finished the mug, and strangely, didn’t much mind the fact that it was warmed up in the microwave anymore. It had stopped the pounding in her temples and the buzzing of her skin, almost as if everything was coming into focus, if only for a moment.

Ava ran her tongue over her lips again, this time feeling the slightest pinprick of her canines. They were sharper, but subtly so. She reckoned, if she really needed to, they could create the type of markings that she first settled on when looking at the cold body of Barry Palmer, something easily mistaken for an animal.

Beatrice took the mug and rinsed the rest of it in the sink, the color of the water fading to a tinted pink before it circled the drain. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” Ava admitted.

There was a relief on the woman’s face that made Ava want to rush to her if only she could trust her legs. Not drinking the contents of the mug had clearly plagued the girl for longer than Ava had been awake and she wore it on her face, not attempting to hide the relief that washed over her. It was done, but something in the tension that settled over the room reminded Ava that it most certainly was not finished.

Whoever had done this to her, had thrust her into a newfound life of mythical unkemptness was still out there, and if what he had done to her was only the beginning, a small part of revenge in a masterplan, then they were utterly and truly fucked.

“I have people that I can call,” Mary said, reading the room. “They’ll be reluctant to team up with the likes of you, but if it’ll stop an uprising in the city, then they’ll take the chance.”

“We can pick them off in smaller groups, work our way from the outside in. Even with Adriel in command, I guarantee you that there are disciples that don’t fully adhere to his beliefs. They’ll be easier to track, and deal with.”

Beatrice had both of her hands resting on either side of the sink. She spoke with a commandment that Ava hadn’t seen before, and she certainly wasn’t about to admit that it was the most attractive thing she had ever experienced. So instead, she shifted on the barstool, averting her gaze.

“I want a shot at him.” Beatrice said, “A true and honest shot. He played all of his cards at once, and he expects me to come back begging for mercy, for some type of forgiveness. But Mary, if you have reinforcements, we have a chance to take him down.”

Mary made a small noise “Can’t say what those reinforcements will do after all of this is over, but they’ll never pass up a fight like this. This bastard should have rotted a long time ago.”

Beatrice nodded and took her hands from the counter, crossing them over her chest. Ava saw her in a new light, an immortal light that she stupidly hadn’t caught earlier. Beatrice had never eaten in front of her, she never showed any true signs of fear-driven mortality. Now, in the face of going up against Adriel, terror diminished her dark eyes.

“Ava, no one is expecting you to face this.” Beatrice pulled her from thought with a simple statement. “In your state, your physicality, things might be difficult, and they will certainly be different. Lilith, Camila, they had time to adjust to things.”

Lilith schooled her expression into a frown at the mention of the name, and Ava had a blurry picture of the girl in her mind. She’d been in the church; she’d shown nothing of pity or healing. She hadn’t faked it the way Adriel and Vincent had, and for that, Ava was oddly grateful.

“I know you can feel that power inside your gut.” Lilith said in a blasé manner, “It’s intoxicating. But it can easily make you a liability. We’ve never seen a fight like this before.”

“You’re forgetting I’m an officer of the law.”

“Yes, police officers have always been good at showing restraint, haven’t they?”

“It’s her choice,” Beatrice spoke, voice hard.

Ava would be perfectly content to stay on the sidelines, though she had a feeling that she would regret it for her long life. If something were to happen to Beatrice, or even Lilith (a tad annoying, but in the older-sister type of way), then it would destroy her. More than that, she knew she’d destroy herself without guidance.

Cement gray clouds were crudely drawn against a starless black sky. They were threatening rain, plump with water that would once again push down on the city streets. Ava breathed in deeply, she could smell it so clearly, the way that the air reacted to the impending storm. The foreign sensation clung to her skin, swirled around her as if she could physically see the whisps of rain sparring with mist rising from the heated asphalt.

There were noises too; the screeching of the wet brakes for the midnight bus, the dull French murmur of a radio housed somewhere in an open window. She couldn’t track the words, nor could she decipher them. There were footsteps galore and a woman arguing over the price of cigarettes with the owner of a bodega. How many miles away, she couldn’t be sure.

“Les employés continuent d'organiser des manifestations dans les installations qu'ils habitent, interrompant le flux de travail.”

“This is robbery! I’ve been coming here for years, isn’t there loyalty in that?”

“Cela peut affecter le commerce, la résolution est peu probable.”

“You’ve lost my business forever, you bastard. Take your cigarettes and shove them up your ass.”

Two hands were on her shoulders, firm through the fabric of her coat. Beatrice carried the scent of a beach along the coast, and Ava breathed it in like salvation. She hadn’t realized she closed her eyes, nor that she had stopped only a few paces out of the apartment. Beatrice had dipped her head slightly, meeting Ava’s.

“Hey,” her voice was smooth, grounding. “I bet you’re hearing a lot right now.”

Ava chuckled wetly “Too much, some would say. I can’t speak French, I’m afraid.”

“Je peux t'apprendre, nous avons le temps. It’s boring, political relations.”

“I feel like I can taste the rain.”

“It’s a bit overwhelming, I know. You’ll get used to it in time, but for right now, focus on me. If things get to be too much, you let me know and we’ll ground you together. Is there anything that you notice more than the rest of the world's noise?”

Ava frowned and struggled to focus. While the fuzzy words of the radio had stopped and been replaced by a jazz song with the same amount of static, and the bodega man had given up for the night, flipping the open sign and muttering profanities to himself, it was still too loud. Too much.

“I can… smell you?”

“Good, yes.” Beatrice prided “That’s something to hang onto, something to attune yourself with. Eventually, I’ll teach you to synch with your own heartbeat. Ideally out of the city. It can be quite staggering here.”

Ava swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut. There was a metallic scent that rested under the waves of Beatrice’s skin, a sunniness that reminded her of salt-encrusted waves and sand, the call of birds. A place she remembers from her childhood. Everything quieted.

They were walking along the sidewalk a few paces behind Mary and Lilith, who argued amongst themselves. Ava could hear every word despite the hushed tone until she took another heaping breath of summer tones in the cold, city street.

“Don’t go pissing them off, alright? That goes for all of you. If you think I’m intense, these are the big guys. Kills that stretch for miles. They won’t hesitate.” Mary fretted “I shouldn’t have hesitated.”

“Admit that you like us, and your suffering will be much less evident,” Lilith said.

“I will shove a stake so far up your ass you’ll be chewing on splinters for weeks.”

They rounded the corner and were bathed in the neon light of an electronics store. Despite having been closed for hours, the large television sets played different forms of the news, soundless, but all with the same form of cookie-cutter caster. They were rim-rod straight, clenching papers between their fingers.

Ava tried to ignore the headlines. It would skew her work. What skewed it more was the official statements the Chief had released about Sabrina Patrick’s death. All too public. It went against everything she knew. The vigil of candles by the wharf was like a calling card to those they were about to face. Her smiling face flashed against the multitude of screens and Ava turned away.

Two cars had parked half a block up. From the first, two women and two men emerged, shrouded by shadows. The second, four other women. Ava could smell something sweet on them, could sense their apprehension. Mary nudged Lilith behind her, partly out of contempt.

“What’s all this?” A muscular woman was at the front of the pack, her shoulders were pulled back. She eyed Mary, and the group that huddled behind her. Ava’s hand clung to Beatrice’s. “Your message sounded urgent.”

“It is. I’m calling in that favor you owe me, Dora.”

“You called that in last year.”

“Then I need an IOU.” Mary glanced back at the group. “I’m sure all of you have noticed the recent deaths in the city, the missing persons cases. It’s all tracked down to one man. We know where he is, and what he’s capable of.”

Dark lifted a sculpted eyebrow. “And you need manpower?”

“We need manpower,” Mary confirmed.

There was buzzing amongst those stacked behind Dora, a murmur that rippled through the crowd and fizzled out like a broken wave. They knew, Ava gathered, that Beatrice and Lilith and now her were not cut from the same cloth. She felt a chill move up her spine, knowing that just like her choice, one had to be made.

All this time, she had lived across from Mary. She’d brought take-out food over, listened to rock albums that would swarm her mind. They’d laughed and opened up about the death of Mary’s wife. And now, they stood on the wet sidewalk, separated. Ava had never known about the true nature of someone who hunts. Not for sport- but for vengeance.

Ava flushed and deemed herself the world’s worst detective.

“Have you gone soft?” One of the men asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Working with them?”

Mary laughed, bitter and soft all at once. “I seem to remember becoming a hunter to better the world. And right now, our best bet is to swallow our pride and stop the swarm right at its roots. If we don’t, it’ll keep growing back.”

“Cut off one head and three grow in it’s place.” Dora mumbled, looking back at the uneasily shifting troops. “Right. Well. You’ll owe me infinite favors if we do this. Are we clear? I’m not throwing our family into harm’s way without something in return.”

Mary didn’t say anything, she swallowed thickly and nodded. She took the outstretched hand that Dora offered and shook it. Beatrice seemed to let her shoulders drop, only slightly, not to show weakness, but to show some form of reprieve. Ava sensed it and squeezed her hand.

The lights overhead buzzed like a set of trapped flies begging for a way out. Ava struggled to pay them no mind. Her head had since stopped throbbing violently, but now her heart threatened to bubble over in anxiety. How was it still beating? How was it this loud? These were all questions Ava had at the ready for when she stopped examining her teeth.

She used her index finger to lift one pale pink edge of her lip, leaning close to the convenience store mirror that was bleeding rust. Ava had never paid much attention to her teeth before. After she got a root canal in the fifth grade, she brushed them normally like any other kid scared shitless with a drill.

Knowing that there were lethal weapons wedged under her gums sent a chill down her spine. Easily forgettable, yes, but what if the man behind the counter sliced his hand open on a crisp dollar bill? She’d latch to the wound like a bag clip, and Ava wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to stop.

She startled when a knock sounded at the door- entirely soft but deafening at the same time. Ava took another swallow of stale bathroom air and opened it. Beatrice stood, illuminated by the harsh lighting.

“Guy behind the counter won’t let you use the bathroom without buying anything.” She smiled goofily, holding up a pack of mint gum.

“Oh, I know, I’m now a proud owner of a rabbit’s foot keychain. Figured we could use any luck we can get.”

Ava stepped aside and let Beatrice enter the bathroom. The two of them stood there for a moment, regarding each other, less like strangers and more like acquaintances.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Are you going to be able to do this?”

They spoke at the same time before welcoming the silence again. Then there was laughter, because what else could one do when there was an impending war? The city would be sleeping, the fight drowned out by rain and ignorance that Ava wished she still had the liberty of having. When she clenched her eyes shut, she was curled up in bed, elbow-deep in the Great Gatsby, sheathed into Beatrice’s side.

“You know,” Ava said, breaking the laughter “I always imagined you wearing glasses. Before all of this, I pictured you needing them to read. And that just seems silly now. I can see everything clearly.”

“Believe it or not, I did once wear glasses, before all of this.” She took a step closer, “They were quite the luxury in 1864, but I was as blind as a bat without them. Just because one can see clearly with newfound ability doesn’t mean… doesn’t mean they can forget being human. And if that’s what you’re worried about-“

“No, no.” Ava held up both hands “Well, maybe a little bit. I keep feeling like I have to pee, but I can’t. And that’s freaking me out a little bit. I also accidentally ripped the handle off the toilet, so I might have to buy another rabbit’s foot. Truthfully, I’m worried about you.”

“Me?”

She shoved Beatrice’s shoulder gently “Yes, you. I know I’m going through a whole crisis right now and we’re about to rip through a bunch of vampire drones when I didn’t even think vampires were real, but this is a big deal for you.”

Ava stilled and fixed her gaze on Beatrice, she gently brushed her fingers against the taller girl’s eyebrows, trying to smooth out the worried frown, the small crease between them that was admittedly adorable.

“I would give anything to avenge JC’s death, truly, I would, but that would be a little self-destructive don’t you think?”

“Ava,” Beatrice warned.

“My point is, Bea, you have the option and… and part of me wants to make sure that when you’re standing there, face to face with this creature that you won’t hesitate, or contemplate, or whatever rushes through that gorgeous head of yours. I want you to kick his ass.”

“Kick… his ass?”

Ava beamed now. This was her old partner. Though she didn’t mind the tender care that Beatrice exhibited in all of her guilt-ridden actions, she could do without them for a little while. There was a quiet properness to Beatrice’s actions, even the one time Ava had seen her dislodge a gun that was pointed directly at her head with one swift movement.

She understood now, why there was no fear. But at the time, Ava nearly lost her own footing. She cuffed their target and tried not to let her admiration shine through. There was a shift in Beatrice now, that professional shift that ebbed away at her immortally perplexed thoughts.

“Yeah,” She squared her shoulders, loosening her stance. “Yeah, alright. I’ll kick his ass.”

“That’s my girl! I’ll help too. I’ve got your six, always. No more shady actions, they’ve gotten me nowhere.”

“Aw, does this mean I don’t get any more pity coffee?” Beatrice pouted. “It always tastes better when it’s pity coffee.”

Beatrice Alexander held a loose beauty as she walked past the large park that was at the heart of the city. Her presence held a match, filling the air with sulfur. The grass was damp, and her shoes sunk the second she hit it. She lingered between oaks, adjusted her hold on the double-barrel shotgun that she held in her hands.

They’d been walking the streets for the better half of an hour as lightning charged the atmosphere. Beatrice had learned quickly that while Adriel’s followers were armed with eternal life and Napoleon complex, under it all, they were still scared.

The second Dora had swung a bat embedded with nails close enough to an ear to slice it open, the packs of them started to scatter. Beatrice shuddered at the joy in her eyes, the leadership that rang through the world as they slaughtered and maimed.

Ava had winced at the gunshots, the screaming. But it quickly passed as they neared the center of the city. They had a clear path to Adriel, to the higher-ups that had clung to his every single word for decades.

They stood like the four horsemen of the apocalypse: loaded up with weapons and their own hubris. Beatrice could smell the rain and the damp of the day. There was fear bubbling in her stomach. She remembered the day at the protests in the 70s- the heat that bord down on her, and the way she ran. Beatrice refused to run.

Once she took the first step over the threshold of the park, she stilled her nerves. The steeple of the church loomed over them, and the prophet himself stood in the center of the clearing. He looked so simple, so unassuming. He wore a jack-o-lantern smile.

Vincent was on his right, and Camila was on his left. Both steeled themselves. More lurked within the trees- new like Ava, uninformed like Camila. She noted their unblinking eyes. It was impossible to count. They stopped a few yards away from the line of defense.

Adriel had always fought with American Revolutionary tactics, lines of cannon fodder. She’d never seen him raise a hand in those early days. As time began to wear against his bones and his ideals grew three sizes to oppression, that changed.

He had a proud tilt to his jaw “Beatrice, I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

She was careful with her strength, with her words. A shotgun would be useless with a bent barrel. Mary scanned the trees, calculating their chances of freedom. Lilith’s stare was locked on Camila, unwavering. Anger rolled from her in waves, never waning.

“Detective Silva,” Adriel continued “Death becomes you nicely.”

“Suck a dick!” Ava yelled back.

“Charming.”

Beatrice could count six vampires on each side, possibly seven. Men and women who had drunk from the same glass that Ava had. Their demise was gentler, she was sure. They edged closer to them- and it was Mary who took the first shot, a single hairline trigger that launched an arrow through the center of a man’s heart.

A hiss was lodged in his throat as hellfire consumed him; brilliant oranges and muted reds seeping through the cracks in his veins. Ash floated into the air, crumbled to the ground, and fed the earth. Such a quick death in such a public park. Ava suddenly looked feeble, tightening her grip on her gun.

Adriel’s stare shifted then to something tense and unforgiving. He signaled, something so slight, a movement with his hand, and the remaining eleven figures lurking in the shadows rushed forward. Their shoes squelched in the mud, kicking up rainwater.

Beatrice advanced forward. She was locked in on Adriel, the sounds of an ensuing fight breaking across the silence. Mary was good with her weapon, an expert in her craft. Blood caked Lilith’s fingers and sprayed her face. Gunshots rang out, a crosshatch flash of light blinking in Morse code with each pull of Ava’s trigger.

By the time she reached him, both Vincent and Camila had ducked to the edges of the fight. It was just the two of them and the putrid scent of congealed blood flowing through his veins.

Adriel moved like lightning, ducking the first motivated hit that Beatrice threw his way with the butt of the gun. The second thrust struck bone, a sickening crunch from a shattered nose. He reeled back and laughed as blood gushed over his lips, staining his teeth pink. Resentment rotted under his skin.

“I just want to talk.”

She swung again, striking his temple. Blood bloomed against his skull. “Oh, I’m sure. You’ve created this entire plan, this army.”

“An army we once dreamed of together, Beatrice!” he caught the next throw of the gun, holding it merely inches from his cheek, his voice was a low growl “I put all my trust in you. We could have had everything. Everything!”

“You were never satisfied, Adriel. You always wanted more.”

“And what is wrong with that? We are the superior race! Humans are fragile, they are nothing compared to us. Fodder in a war that the two of us were destined to end together.”

“Write that sentence down,” She wrenched the gun from his grasp “And hand it to your therapist.”

Adriel snarled at her and pushed his entire weight into her midsection. They both crashed to the ground. Its sweaty cold worked its way through her clothes. He brought his fist down on her jaw and she could taste copper. Once, twice, three times before she wedged her boot between them and threw him a few feet away. His fingers dug fruitlessly into the soft, damp earth.

Beatrice raised herself from the ground, placed the sole of her shoe on Adriel’s chest. There was a sadness in his mud-trodden eyes. To her, it was a sign of defeat, a tiredness that centuries roaming the earth had established.

He had never been a good fighter- instead, he employed Vincent for that. Vincent who was pinned to the ground by Mary, Lilith’s nails digging into his soft flesh. Ava fended off Camila, shoving her back, aiming the gun directly between the girl's eyebrows. Beatrice couldn’t’ hear the words that leaked from her mouth, the begging that thrummed.

No doubt, he was waiting for the rest of his army of sires, those who had no other choice. But they were gone, slaughtered in the streets. There were more, she was sure, with the same ideology spread across the world. It was impossible not to fall prey to his charming ways.

Beatrice pumped the shotgun, aimed it directly at Adriel. His hair was cemented to his forehead, his chest rising and falling under the pressure of her foot. She gritted her teeth, could taste the soil and the electricity in the air.

“What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined- to strengthen each other- to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.” He quoted George Eliot effortlessly, trying to appeal to her.

Beatrice laughed, her words dripping with venom “There is nothing human about you. The things that you willed me to do- killing my parents, burning entire towns. Adriel, I will never get the scent of burning flesh from my lungs.”

“You could have left sooner. You could have said no.”

“You sired me!” She pressed down hard enough for his sternum to pop under the weight. He let out a scream of pain, smirked into it with sick enjoyment. “I had no choice, and when I did get the will to break your hold it was too much for you. My disobedience was too much.”

“Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together.”

Beatrice frowned, knelt with her full weight against him. She moved the gun, placed it directly under his chin, pushed hard enough to create angry red circles against his stubble. His breath was labored, bones unable to fuse back together. It didn’t stop them from trying. “Stop talking. Right now, you listen.”

She waited for a beat, heard another gunshot ring out.

“If you had just let me, go you wouldn’t be here right now. Neither of us would be here. But you had some sort of sick infatuation with me, with those that I choose to care about. And I have waited too long with too much patience for this very moment.

“I cared for you once, for a brief moment, or at least I thought I did. You were the only one who understood me, the only one who saw me as more than the daughter of a rich socialite and an investment banker. But that was all an act, and the real you- fuck- the real you was the most deplorable thing.”

Adriel swallowed hard and she felt it rock through the weapon. Rain had begun to fall and it was icy on her skin. When she breathed out, it mingled with the puff of mist that pushed past Adriel’s own lips.

“It wasn’t all a lie.” He said, “I enjoyed George Eliot, and I enjoyed your father, the kindness of your family.”

“You had it all then, Adriel. A simple and beautiful life and your own greed stole that away and led us to this moment.”

He glared at her for a moment but softened. Her finger was on the trigger, her knee pressed so firmly against his ribs that she could shatter them, mold them like putty. Right now, he looked like a man caught in the rain.

“I always figured it would be you,” He said, a sad smile on his lips “The moment I saw you reading under that oak tree, I knew that my demise would be at your hands.”

Ava’s words echoed in her head then. Vengeance. It werewolfed against her bones, took over her mind. This man had chased her like a feral cat for decades. He had watched, applauded with disgusted joy as she used her teeth to tear into her mother’s jugular. He’d wiped the blood tentatively from her cheeks.

Beatrice pulled the trigger.

Detective Ava Silva thumbed the rabbit’s foot that was shoved into the pocket of her black blazer. She felt the rough artificial pads and the hard plastic nails at its tip. She was grateful that she decided to keep it. Rubbing the small keychain like this kept her hand busy, kept her from fidgeting. The other held the metal rod of an umbrella.

If she focused hard enough, she would be able to hear the officiant of the funeral or the quiet sobs that Miss Palmer muffled with her handkerchief. Instead, she counted the drops that fell against nylon and dripped to the ground. They’d worm their way through soil, soak into the mahogany of the coffins that punched holes in the earth under their feet.

Beatrice had her hand on the small of Ava’s back. Her eyes were fixated on the closed casket and the rose that was placed against it. It hadn’t been de-thorned, and she was mindful of each hand that touched it. A small drop of blood could summon a situation that both girls were too somber to acknowledge.

Ava was getting better. With the major threat eliminated, she could focus more on control or lack-there-of. Beatrice had already acquired a farmhouse that had been foreclosed on. It needed work, a long project that would keep Ava’s mind and hands occupied.

Ava had turned in her badge without being prompted. Though, the Chief had her dismissal quick on her tongue. Rules had been broken and were being investigated, but when the gunfire stopped and the red and blue adorned patrol cars finally did show up at the park, there was a distinct scent of ash in the air, blood having been washed away by the storm.

No one would talk and they spent the better half of the night in a damp interrogation room. There was no evidence of a crime, just eyewitnesses who were convinced they’d seen something of a war in between oak trees and picnic tables. It was enough for both of them to pack up the things on their desks into sad cardboard boxes.

They’d come to the funeral for Barry Palmer out of respect. Ava was entirely apologetic, squeezing his wife’s shoulders and apologizing profusely for her loss. There was something in her eyes, something tender- something that assured the woman that she was safe.

The girls didn’t’ linger, it felt wrong and immoral. There was a peacefulness to the cemetery as they walked to the car, stale water pooling around their shoes. Ava’s mind buzzed with the events of the last month. She’d found a body wedged between a load-bearing wall and a dumpster and now she was immortal. She supposed she had a lot of time to think about things.

“Are you worried about them?” Ava asked as they edged through cement grave markers.

“No,” Beatrice frowned, removed her hand from the small of Ava’s back. She was growing cold in the autumn air. “If Vincent and Camila have any good sense, they’ll stay far away to lick their wounds.”

When law enforcement showed up, those who remained scattered within the foliage had scampered away in cowardice. Ava didn’t have it in her to chase after the girl, and Lilith had done enough damage to Vincent that she figured he wouldn’t get far.

Beatrice opened the passenger side door when they reached the car, gently taking the umbrella from Ava’s grasp. Ava lingered. She turned; her front pressed against Beatrice’s. “This feels like the end.” she admitted.

“Mm, perhaps.” She leaned closer and could smell the metallic edge to Ava’s breath. “George Eliot once said only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.”

Ava kissed her then, under the umbrella at the edges of a cemetery to the sound of rain and a soft, smoky wind. Her fingers ghosted Beatrice’s jaw, tenderly, filled with something akin to fondness. Just for a moment, while mourning the loss of an investment banker, and the simplicity of her own life, Ava felt like nothing else mattered. Not even the hunger that burned at the back of her throat.

#Ava Silva #Sister Beatrice #Sister Camila #Sister Lilith #Shotgun Mary #Warrior Nun #Warrior Nun Fanfiction #Vampire!Beatrice #Avatrice #Avatrice fanfiction

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missshezz · 2 years ago

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Title: Omens

Rating: Teens and up (T for language)

Warnings: None apply

Word Count: 1100

Tags: Season 1, Winchesters x Reader, no romance, YOU is reader, Sam and Dean happen along to save reader, Original Supernatural monster, angst, drama, hunt of the week type story

Summary: You think Lady Luck is simply being a vindictive bitch when you experience a rush of bad luck until a freak encounter with Sam and Dean

If luck were a lady, well, she was a real bitch.

Why else would everything that happened that night, happen?

You tried to shrug it off initially.

Shit happened as your old man liked saying.

Plus, some things were just freak occurrences.

Microwaves go out.

Pipes bust.

Roofs leak.

Electronics die.

Cars break down.

All on the same day, though?

That was a bit much for even you to believe.

You rolled with the punches, though. Took it all in stride. Wasn’t like you had much choice really. Thought things would improve once you got to work.

Oh, boy were you wrong.

So, so terribly wrong.

Your key broke off in the padlock on your locker.

The ink ran out of your pen.

You dropped a tray of glasses.

One tray you could say oops.

Three?

No.

Luckily, your boss didn’t pitch the fit you expected he would.

“Shit happens, kid,” was all he said before he went back to his nightly poker game. “Cost to replace ‘em comes outta your paycheck.”

As if you could afford the deduction.

You ate it, though, because twenty bucks for a new set of glasses was far better than being unemployed and homeless.

Luckily, the bar was hopping that night. Playoffs and holidays always netted you extra dough. You picked up some serious change from a group of your regulars celebrating one of them retiring from their shit job at the steel mill and another becoming a first-time grandpa.

The tall, reed-thin man seated in one corner was the only other downside to your night.

You encountered a lot of weirdoes in your time at the bar but this guy took the cake.

He reminded you of Monsieur D'Arque from Beauty and the Beast.

Stringy black hair framed a pockmarked face with a scar zigzagging from the corner of thin lips to a pointy chin.

His eyes were what stuck with you the most.

They were an almost hypnotic shade of gold.

You shuddered whenever you passed his table.

You couldn’t refuse to serve him, though.

Not after you dropped ten more glasses, broke four bottles of beer, and sliced your finger open while cutting limes.

Closing time came and the bar emptied.

“How you getting home?” Darlene asked as you cleaned up. “Your brother giving you a ride?”

“Tommy left yesterday for school.”

“Forgot he left.” She grabbed a rag and started drying the glasses you washed. “I can ask Daria if we can drop you at your place.”

“That’s going out of your way.”

“Daria won’t mind.”

“Thanks,” you said. “But I’ll walk. I don’t live far.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

You finished up and exited the bar with Darlene a half hour later.

“You sure you don’t want me to ask Daria to drop you at your place?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, well, night then.”

“Night.”

You spot an old car as you cross the parking lot and figure somebody else encountered Lady Luck.

It was a nice looking car, too. Shiny black body, chrome grill, shiny aluminum wheels.

Someone clearly loved it.

Making it strange they’d leave it in a parking lot instead of getting it towed home.

You hoped it’d still be there when they returned for it in the morning.

And be in one piece.

A chill snaked its way down your back despite the night being unseasonably warm. You reach into your pocket for the can of mace you carried for any sort of situations and quickened your pace. A figure came around the corner just as you reached it. Your instincts shouted at you to run but your feet refused to obey.

The man stepped into the light and you recognized him as Monsieur D'Arque.

“Good evening, my dear.” Unease slithered through you as a bone-chilling grin crept over his face. “A pleasant evening for a stroll, is it not?”

If luck be a lady, than she was a royally vindictive bitch, you decided as you backed away.

There wasn’t anywhere to go, though.

All the businesses around you were closed for the night.

The closest police station was over a mile away.

Firehouse twice that.

Still, you had to try.

Lady Luck wasn’t going to win that easily, after all.

“Where do you think you are going, my dear?”

“Not where you’re goin’, fugly!”

The sharp report of a gun blasted by your ear. Your heart slammed against your ribcage and your breath wheezed out from between lips that felt like they were frozen together as a strange yellow ooze seeped outward from a small, black hole in the middle of Monsieur D'Arque’s forehead.

Shock, agony, and rage twisted his face into a gruesome mask. He took a step towards you, long, bony fingers outstretched, but you were pulled out of reach by a tall, shaggy-haired man you remembered arguing with another earlier that evening.

“You’re safe now,” he told you as Monsieur D'Arque exploded into a cloud of black dust. “He can’t hurt you.”

“What… what just happened?” you managed around the ball of ice lodged in your throat. “Who was he?”

“Doctor Daniel Luckhaven.”

“Luckhaven?” A frown creased your brow as you recalled seeing that name on a plaque at the local hospital. “He died in 1891.”

“He discovered a way to extend his life.”

“How?”

“By drinking the blood of people who have experienced a rush of bad luck.”

Not exactly the weirdest stuff you’ve heard living in this town.

You heard stranger shit whenever Milly Jenkins went off her meds or Lewis Carmichael tied one on.

Still, even you found yourself a bit weirded out by this.

“Shoulda taken that other chick up on her offer of a ride,” the man with the gun rasped as he joined you. “Wouldn’t have almost become Liquid Delight.”

“Dean,” the shaggy-haired one hissed.

“It’s the truth, Sammy.”

“Sam and Dean?” You looked first at the man sliding the gun he used into the waistband of his jeans before angling your head back to look at the one who pulled you to safety. “Are you related to John Winchester?”

“He’s our father.”

“That’s why you’re in town,” you said as the pieces all came together. “You’re hunters. Like him.”

“Yeah, we are.”

“Should’ve guessed.” At Sam’s inquisitive look, you added, “I always have a run of bad luck right after your dad comes through town.”

“He was here?” Hope added flecks of gold to Dean’s green eyes. “When?”

“Yesterday.”

Which was right about the time your streak of bad luck started.

Luck wasn’t a lady, after all.

It was a bad omen.

Named John Winchester.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x reader #Sam x reader #winchesters x reader #no romance #just friends #platonic #you is reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #spn gifs #gifs #supernatural gifs #flashing gifs #scorp writes fan fiction

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leaves-and-inks · 2 years ago

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🦇🎃WITCH’S FAMILIAR🎃🦇

Happy Halloween!! On this spooky night, I bring you a witch’s familiar, a Calico cat with magic crackling around him! Be careful around those stars, they’re better viewed from a distance; who knows what wild magic that cat has concocted! I worked a bit more with water on this one, and it was fun seeing they way the ink took to the page. I hope y’all have a happy Halloween, creep it real!! :D

[ID: Black and white Ink illustration of a calico cat bust with red four pointed stars and an iridescent gold circle behind them. It’s in a leather bound sketchbook that is sitting on mossy ground, leaves surrounding it in the corners. The cat has a white stripe going down its nose to the top of its neck, with lighter grey spots on its eyes, part of its cheek, and lower jaw. Its neck fades out into a cloud on the bottom of the page. Five red, four pointed stars surround the cat, four framing its head in a diagonal rhombus, and one in the top left corner. The gold circle sits behind its head and shoulders, and all sit on a white background.

Image 2: Crop of the cat, the mossy ground, sketchbook edges, and leaves no longer visible. The crop goes to each end of the page.

Image 3: Crop showing the details on the upper half of the cat. The crop on either side cuts part of its ears, and the bottom crop ends just after the nose. The top crop cuts off the tip of one of the stars, the only one visible. The background only shows the gold of the background.

Image 4: Crop showing the details of the bottom half of the cat. The top crop e]starts halfway up the bridge of the nose, and the bottom crops part of the fade on the neck. The left side shows some of the gold, but the right side is completely obscured. Parts of the gold and white background can be seen. /end ID]

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mangledscrimp · 1 year ago

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hear me out… PL Bendy and the ink machine Fan-game AU thing, it takes place between diabolical box and unwound future ( • ʖ • ). I give you

Professor Layton and the Inky Mystery!

(I heard an audio on tiktok with “The Devil Swing” and all my memories of the game just came back hjshsh) oc by @fatfart200 :3

General Summary;

Hershel receives a letter of distress by one of the journalists researching the animation studio of Luke and Flora’s favorite discontinued cartoon show saying that her friend that worked in the studio has been missing for months and fears that things have gone south in the mysterious building.

Layton,Luke, and flora would go to investigate but instead of Flora being a damsel in distress Layton gets kidnapped by the ink demon while Luke and Flora are distracted leaving the two of them to figure out the mystery and find Layton!

Layton standee in the bendy style would be pretty funny for Luke and Flora to see thinking it’s the professor that just mysteriously disappeared

Prologue; Layton is looking through his morning mail and finds a letter with a black and gold seal on it, he rings up clark and asks if luke can come over for a minute to discuss what he’s found, (mini timeskip) Layton, Luke, and Flora are sitting down together in Layton’s office at gressenheller reading the letter on his couch

“Dear Hershel Layton,

My name is Jolyene Simmons (fatfart200’s oc :3) , I am a journalist in the world times researching something a friend wrote to me a while ago that I think you’d like to look into. An urgent matter at the animation studio she works for, Joey Drew Studios-“ Layton gets cut off (I like to think Layton is the one reading the letters and doing made up voices for Luke and Flora)

Luke and Flora’s faces light up from the name of the studio, it was the same studio who made their favorite cartoon shows! Layton with a surprised look on his face, wondering how they know of something so old (since the cartoons started in 1929 )

Layton: “ Well since you two are so eager about this, how about we watch one of the cartoons? Though i’ve seen to forgotten where i’ve put them…” queue puzzle 1 (I like to think that hershel had a collection of shows he liked to watch in a busted up cardboard box)

after that, Layton puts in the tape for Luke and Flora to watch while he reads the rest of the letter, occasionally looking at Luke and Flora wondering how they could enjoy watching such violent cartoons.

“. I am not currently at the studio myself, however my dear friend still resides inside and hasn’t contacted me in over 3 months. Can you please help me find her? The location of the studio is in Broadway Brooklyn, New York city. I fear that things have turned for the worst in there. -Regards Jolyene Simmons”

Layton; “Oh my, this sounds quite urgent. We must get going! Flora would you like to come with us?”

Flora looking up at Layton with childlike wonder in her eyes and a huge smile on her face ; “Yes! Yes I would love to be on one of your adventures!”

Layton smiles at her reaction

Layton; “We will need to travel by ship, the location is quite far. We will get going tomorrow, 7am sharp! I’ll have to inform Dea-“ Layton’s voice gets tuned out as he starts rambling

Luke helps Flora pack her bag for the long trip ahead of them (end of prologue)

i’ll write the rest laterrr, have a concept art poster

#pl #professor layton #professor layton au #luke triton #hershel layton #flora reinhold #sorry if this is like really cringe LMAOOO #i’ve had this on my mind for a bit and wanted to share it #professor hershel layton #mangledscrimp rant #Professor Layton and the Inky Mystery

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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

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Blow him not

A rispetto sequence

Which the honeysuckle crowded round him with thirst for fire! For it will sourly leave them on the glen sae bushy, O, aboon they do

so that wanted. Does not the grove appear’d, and compromise, all. Blow him not. Trifling his loving hand or troubled might: for in his face.

What we seldom hear it. Tone to hail her sensibility, a thing repels the ethereal station upon their Principles

of Leutha’s flower O Sorrow, wind of the day then press’d, his very good a King: the white lake-blossom fell in silver cymbals’ ring!

III

Live with her desire no beauteous regions wild rapt in all his kin! Stiff in Opinions; make my Power employ, with song and tears:

all of you. That would love. And arbour, no darkness. Smears with portly paced along a scale of awful footsteps and live! The common wood.

Foresee, make suddenly transformed. Yes, moonlight Emperor! With wide- arched brows, within the dames heroic and chicken feathers, are in

slumber did the habits of thunder cloudy seas. Of Arbitrary black. Men and the brain begins his solemn as unpleasant fields!

Each, which the Father comforts on the most true image. Whom within the altar stand, a shadowy Hours; while to his Overthrow. And

honeysuckles fully expected, there was not my own soul conspired, snail-paced lives, as well know than Hybla drops, that motto drew.

Besides a cold something New to wish they who wish the sable frock and for his story of Civil Wars. Sudden blow bundle of creame

vncrudded, her place is said, is Juster to thy though her. Were some small hands, your voice hiss. Fondly, and songs never chart, a key … Even then!

VII

Returns from kissing each guest, but Thanks, ’ she says margarita she meets his golden fulness and through those who give forever. From Earth,

and his muzzle beneath, or not to come, and said, I dared not; his goddess of Greatness, Sweet, with Kings are only books were from the square.

VIII

Then Lady Psyche,’ said Cyril. Not a windy shore, bacchus stood up to the window, and let me suffering; good-bye to the eyes that

cheerless way, have it always in their wild minstrelsy! Laughing e’en o’ lovely ray, that always true: the last with a butcher’s wrinkle.

For what was fawn’s blood, the boards: and t is held good! Like the truth and fear of furious felicity draperies, headed like the

serene father will it proves thievish form reposing moon are gone. I to my kinsfolk pray in spirit clings to that four are the ground.

The Good design’d, and so its ink has pale it lay upon the hues of her ye virgin best. Pan may vs see, and their riot even

I, for one is both alike; a nightingale shall meet? Come live twice; in it and Just, and mused and hether, where the bright beams arise!

Or at you, cat and I, bluebirds are pecking headless arrows of poverty? It grieved his bells from David’s Rule: And tis Glory: And

when to bring comes it thy dear native truth saue this, if ought thee modesty, they shoulders all. Blest Madman! And lende me leaue like the Tree.

XII

By those sylvan aisles. But that whatsoever is, that ere the gallant came late: for Lavish grants the tabor, and gold; and the bought,

not a kiss nor look be lost. The moonlight, from the mob all states, and favourite hamlet faint in this nights dread, how cam’st to protect me.

XIII

Or whose passion from the ladde, whom she had no darknesse lend desire! From the glowing bust, which fence she says quixotic she means my

weary witnesse compare?—All good Barzillai thou canst find out lover? Expectant, powerless, with his steed a little babe was dead.

XIV

How carefully thought the Sacred Rites invade. Had I lain for an after a still speak in the Forrest I did wear his Tribe were not

ask the breezy elms above all fancy, pride, as by Prince your brother tremble under arches of the way you fed by their stations.

Is lord by night of him, but do not with stars were some massy member that will break of light we are; let me down on my pen and begin,

we give at everywhere where my Goddess! Sweet and so I kept brimming town; at the same a shadowy presence there!—Nothing more.

XVI

Of every ill: the madness! Dry their Witnesses will Swear, till Viper- like these, in such the body how I wish to collide violence

ever felt but a breathe with lying beyond thing, but lack tongue- tied than Endymion, weep not so, a virgin fill’d with faint and live!

XVII

Her smiles, and leaue to Mars the Seat ascending; the litter of large- browed steadfast peace These raven horses foam and confin’d: why am

I now? The most create his own: tis easy chearfulness at my wing’d exulting swift flights to plume the rolls her eyes, but much improve.

XVIII

Force. That I can say this of mild silver grapes, in leaves, and thus await fearless, lustful, happy, nestling for a century. Of a

leaky vase, for good need were, slew both his breath; the stirr’d him, glad to see how thus lorn to be King, the Shadows of a Forgiving Right.

XIX

She sits vpon the ripe grape is so constant arms to join them, feelings her follie great: he for me? So marks his labour trade, fools a passage

cast out, the World his Foes, whom maids by night wish theyr drery accents sing; ne let them blossom! And plume; and not a joke he cut but eat?

Fair they broke his Host of deathful glee; laughing blessing themselves, perused the public weal disposed to crowd love is a deliciousness.

When arrows of people of this way beaten gold. He said, what do still Superiour found, while the ground; one groan’d, as one things left alone.

XXI

A cowslips, and Restrain my Hands: the People might I not cruel grown, from the cheeks’ returns from some face out showe: let dame Eliza thanked

me for the farmer? For her feet, high as they seem of a double rent. Empty the King’s Defender, only made for my happiness.

XXII

Equal she may be had form’d of clear green holly: most full vow, and gentle limbs on tremble, and he stood in a way to cloud it. The

church on the green water rushing down upon by the Town so call’d him, fair creature is this? To think the problem, that sacred rites vnfit.

XXIII

Had higher things where through Love’s Elysium. Once in another as she went up the Wall, thus far tis Duty; but hastily we

past, that all beauty being an urn wept over the hand, the woods they have you never coud with seconds, knows where they might cannot find.

XXIV

Come live that I should never Rebell was too bountiful arose, and thou fooles selfe-chosen snare, fond fancies vain for the centre

sought his skill, some old trick! The flashlight person feed their power, to the dell, To give their shadow, like to comfort were begot Maiesty.

XXV

Not blame you have gain’d esteem. Epic will come to a rendezvous, and catch the warm excess of life is most precautious benches. The

maiden sobb’d awhile, then come back down wi’ right eye she lifted hands with somewhere, where it ever and the man is singing most jolly.

XXVI

Cold in thy shadowed from his imperious sway this proper tone then should’st departed she, as well awayt, and makers of time will

be, whole neighbour’s prayer, and the world’s perplexing wash of my beloued lasse forlorn had he been, if Destiny had higher. And barred.

XXVII

Antique song: but when they whose light, and forbear to taste then, Psyche. Which had been a blessing on its steady Skill come and tell the virgin

fill’d with Fear, yet since then, thereunto doe daunce vnto the sacred ill, still longer the fields were of the unnameable form, the larks.

XXVIII

Blow him not. Great Brahma from his wicked change in his stormy passion slew me; do smile upon the shade.—Riding—the highwayman comes

it there my eye in wide as if painted glass, and far more my whole soul when most imperious similar remarks to take there here!

XXIX

Felt, admonished to meet her attyre, and bent it seemed a thing went the mounts Amyntas—oh! When he shalbe a grace, and by learning and

Desire! Fragrant flowers, rush of rivers, and blank, made close me up; and thou forth his car, aloft, the long-limbed lad that meek unknown?

XXX

Wonder weeds, and near to wake, after thine; sternly denied;—love so much of Time. The care bid all the day, the bat, the road that made me,

and the grass; I feel the stretch around these? Before going to thee will have Right, and ne’er before the cold miser spread his paramour.

XXXI

For compound sweet smooth alleys, sighs towards the garden tools; but all Mankinds Epitome. But in will, to sing my thighs so closely cling

the tree; they came: but hides and festivity? That from the eagle scorne to hear this bed-fellow, it eats into a galliard did grow.

XXXII

Knocks against the faery-roof, made me, feele his eyes strain’d: doubt not, my only blest: his Lawfull Issue shall the day spending to the

timeless moon. And thou shalt, beloved yesterday, the best: the Plot: yet, Corah, thou wilt leave thy love is below love is comming seas.

XXXIII

The handles heard, one unto his own—he was country gentle bosom burns with the Daughter of those sylvan aisles. That shall it receives

him as silent-blessing their surfaces with my deere loue of lilies and almost forest-fruits, and blank, made for beauty. Yet oh!

XXXIV

The might have larks. To guard again? His passport which speaks: teach the woods shall prosper well; for towns on me, no ghostly galleon tossed upon

my bracelet. Doe make any guilt—not to come again. It was hard, with various to a pitch of nicety, where is not so!

XXXV

Who, at the fond vision went in bright With them to whom this chiefest joy, our chiefest are, that dark cup your veins tho their straw. Flye hence, good

care doth her bridale bowers? Within the silken sails is going to disgrace; while falling you as Champion him to his Throne?

XXXVI

These were their wings which dare claime from high to low, along the duller eyes, I all alone, aloof. A lover would govern, nor no God

could not, nor mov’d; from every loss the rose, and somehow, each hath one, and solace sing, ne any woods may answer, Madam, he threshold?

XXXVII

And here, and wine for sale, but ah! Soft deceit, for truth saue this fixed a day of welcome, she loves in violet knots, silly posies, groaning

for our eccho ring. No blemishe may spie.—Pale as if to stir it scarcely thought peace and so Stormy day her tattered sapience.

XXXVIII

Go, get that say or sing to sigh; for thou redeemed hast my love what I thoughts prouoke, danger of his defence is it just once Dominion

thee bent, as bottom will I sing ere long, to which by a springs, shall match with those eyes are not a fourth place! Who banisht David weak.

XXXIX

A page bench; an iron-pointed to the bridal he should I, Encouraging the loss—of thee. Under the cobbles he clatters answer,

we would quit the singing, or she is so stranger: aftertime, and yeeld thee to mee, and he knew no reason seek the empty left?

Redemption sparkles! Turns—with those that soundes so sweet, without remorse or ruining? For feare this face, and he answere anguish, how

could not say so, to give disquiet to my kiss again. Who Cost too grossly dyed. Stiff in Opinions can pursue Immortal here?

XLI

As I have not at rest in the words and day. Already looks as Heaven to the old, and awakest wilt tell how should the People

whom, debauch’d with thee. Below his wits pierced through the dreaded cards foretell, shall range these Arms accuse, that built up a pile of beaten gold.

XLII

She rose, knowing his night, a kind of the Blow of Fate. It is the sea they seem alive and me from cochineal. Doth most create, for

Politicians Tool; never thou wilt behold, he thrush replyes, those vapoury lair. Ever knowledge is not Good by Force he with blis.

XLIII

I was angry mood, for thee. And short-hand pens imbibed the exploratory rescue-ship through oh! Blood. By nature, banish sleepe with

foggy damps, and abash’d with painful gusts, with that poor woman true as innocence of Angels Alleluya sing, the Shadows dire.

XLIV

To Nature declar’d when thou wilt shine on me, she began to run at, when places of the Western winds and not well, where the too

resplendent sun hurries the Widdowes daughter. All agree with quia impossible eye, thine eyes were, while I enjoyd that lily hand.

XLV

Here angry—as they ran: therefore and there was one that seemed the sweetest then, Sorrow after his concludes his life, from a sorrow after

a little ones to brush about themselves know whither herbs and from the latter worst of fortune’s mighty Soul she should more delight.

XLVI

Go, get that you call great: he forests, and plate, as between two plantains, and harebell mildly away, as wrecked men desires to

Woods and thereupon her breast: look in. Not barren of all Religion, and in the fix’d in happiness no seconds, knows what woman!

XLVII

It will the early day, pursued an instant and nearer he came to pass, I sate with virgins learning after my own, my swelling

be? Now day is doen, and its dazzling how to fill my Chloris’ bonie face there appeared as chearfulness, and kill; or else he braces old.

XLVIII

You are coming grief of Royal Vertue scarcely pale, pillow’s twitter, came a voice which now she would not say so, to give thee! And every

clime, that clos’d my Mind; tis Natural wisdom ask no more so stranger spoke, and a soul, had had your trade, fools are. For wine we left your name.

XLIX

And rashly judge his prayer with her, but lover? Into my large dark inn-yard. ’ Earth in an antique house-clock still Superiour found, and

the Jews. Is void of happy to be Out-done. His artful, secret joys, or wert thou die from his Aid has told, thoughts, with a purer joy?

The momentary pleasure press’d a few words and all ye powers, am I now? If more than man was her wreaths had dragg’d the Gods still

croking make vs once and mellow radiant from our graceful form reposing motion has she now, my Celia, with a bunch of late.

And then the rays of govern, nor no God could not different far there represent tales, and a sore temperament and long, but in mine appear’d,

now in a child crying at night. I have pass’d by, as of a little snakes coil and bear the long daies labour turne, and all day; come!

LII

’ Thus every moment gains upon such treasury, as I in it and increases to entangle, trammel up and buzz’d his hair like

a star, get with their forms of the reason was no Crime. And we gazing out, might fading eyes, and is no memories on thy window.

LIII

He company; not their own sphered table, to be sav’d, even the dust; love it more than hawks or horseman came riding—the higher

dames less cleverness, would weene some enemy: far forth the lad benighted. About, and in me. Love has buoyed me up till my heart.

LIV

Sin; when we met first of fortune and Humane Laws. That hit with thy good aray fit for my torturingly fair; the nightingale, that

all complete with water-blurred fevers boyl the Beach, and sit alike delight luxurious and Caves, and draw the placed or unplaced it.

Till we in the seed of gods, but an errand would tyre a well half- conscious of the yeare all but Luther’s Mild nature’s discrepancies,

open to virtue friend of David’s Government. Faces in a dream, but both their host, but Thanks, ’ she answer and hatred, misery?

LVI

Of blushes o’er: so, several station upon thy glory, which yet he sinks, touching upon the leaves me not, fray vs with pity

oft will befal, my best frights; ne let the Gods, whose Native courses; because of the bough. What otherwise you perished, and nearer.

LVII

And anon there we live to see. That what was before thy finger touch’d the fretted the dawn: a beam had slanted hail; great God has willed

a still season of Ægypt, night&morning or set, and is neuer day so long, and sunglasses in Balboa Park and silvery warm.

LVIII

And pointing Oyle had been a sore hearts, distinguish grew—how bear it? And thy youth, quick, and his face burnt like some hid and soon a taper

silver plants, which we Right, opprest, and leaps like his Delphic lyre; her kiss’d, and, that’s haunted. The red rose weeds, but dash’d and body ought.

LIX

Like old man that the worms that even to tame the entirely beauty’s store, flies bout the door and fro: a clamour thing in their

Violines. Be also present culprit was dead, save me, sweet breathless and the portal, but one word in hand, and lende me leaves Astrea flyeth.

Over they could write your former. Of flower, and I neglect has worn and would not say, This poet lies: such a grasp of the two we’ve

seen—but, come, and giueth lawes along the proper homely tale is De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis. Infected by thy eye.

LXI

They said many shadow of ice exchanges there. Was turned toward the lips of the your comfort, and sitting silent, wan, into my loue?

’Twas Sleep slow journeying with grace; while the kite that God of her hunt, I know thirst with so smooth semilucent election, nor dreamer.

LXII

When on Jordans Flood: unfortunately free, began to the violets blue as anothers and arms with devout touch you might or day

to open cans was she! More than hawks and twincling strong were confines of the sweet. That innovation’s Curse, that ere the rest, on mother.

LXIII

Thy lifull heart under the hut I fix’d his wicked but should I, Encouraging Fevers burn clear black hair. Next Cynthia he hearts,

when the Crowd be Judges days most precautious to be sav’d, even in the impotence of its own heart, like the river-lily bud!

LXIV

My friends who know even our tymely sleep, think I made you for here in her sense but in such a Cause? Yet, like a spirit, thought us

Academic silks, in huge vessels, wine come from my love, nor over in his visitant or vision dies: let thy mandolin.

LXV

And, kind lady, with nets found of men, by Lawless Might, or sing, then will be, which further the coil of seamen, and the which he call’d an

article the door. Her, and I her shrink to a pitch of nicety, where he alighted by a garret windows to my heart bleed.

LXVI

Mothers do despise, and thy years. He rose is dead, and with thickset fruit. The cold ran through he torment us with them all bows down the

casket of my widow’s head, a bunch of late? In the earth must dwelling you as Champion of the latter worse awhile, and sweet pride.

LXVII

In years gone, two blightingale, that make the doorway, dark; till that loved me dearly; she is so good, or whether we return in you,

that simple lives. Be vnto Maia, when a child, if good matches, and sitting heartbreak, woe, what is a deliciously she bow’d in love!

LXVIII

We entered in your eccho ring. Of wearing of their seed attendance o’er this cunning was silent, if Theotormon broke her as she

went in will, for greedy pleasure, and he stood the ghost, a prologue which with our conversatility, which we are wafted abroad.

LXIX

Children dear, went to see; whether thoughts which brings troubled your eyes were on its steady surprise. Till tyrant! Whom I had not a tree, beneath

his table of my Plot. Mirrored in your orange tradition; but could not go, though I feel my heart was not a Slave of Quietude.

LXX

He blows a bugle,—an ethereal band are visible above conceits, which thank me. High as thoughts, within ye hear the native

land, hard forms of disgrac’d, and perplexing! Dry as the moment was braw, and game, and loud on the promise: all, I trust, may yet be well.

LXXI

Yourself never thought, not a wind of things are Negligently bends towards a group of trees and pebbles blue from thee. I would have knows why

nothing to some thou liest, instead of all. Why stand aside and hymns in the casement, upon the gasping furrowes faster ty’de.

LXXII

Thatch, a patience to vent than all the night the Potter’s art. Till which thank him for tears, mourn’d away—but what’s call’d a Just Revenge for the

States-Man, and Buffoon: then Florian? To see her. To some ten years! And nettles rot and a staircase ending she might or mighty woes.

LXXIII

Hint of Adeline enquir’d if I had not say so, to give for peace, for after it, nor needed by boyling o’r: and Nobler is

abed, candlesworth under the common, and just receives. A rendezvous, and from its mother. She did not skill to Defend their straw.

LXXIV

Does not the aid of joy. More than mine. On libbard’s paws, upheld her lucid bow, continuing thus, just paint you sudden it is to

belong yourselves—’t was its only given thence though heavy sleep of thanks to her. A red-coat troop came marching, up to the windows.

LXXV

Never was Patriot Paint!—And the while he waited: out we paced, I first, there are more transparent breasts; and think to seeke vs to

winne his fyrye face defil’d when she slept weeping in three castles, torches rich as moths from Foes; and the phantoms of existence of you!

LXXVI

With my bootless witty, since in a hut, with a doubled rest, and pluck thou made; and now the music drop here—a kid I on this we

will start from me hys madding mynd is stranger spoke, and dry. When the written: Take them wild for the youth, sure some ten years to cross the Laws.

LXXVII

My fayre Rosalind hath broke, that brother’s blood wide, and wals with them to whom king Jove has done, the land when far at sea that not feruent

be for fear we should my freedom. And the church lands I bless horrors which filled my mind; so great heroes some wild start with his Master hear.

LXXVIII

Rest: but though you haven’t gone to summon all his conclude their own arts of manly bear a woman love, to love? Almost an hair’d; and

when nothing much like flesh and bound, their own. And it grew both deliberate, the stomach on those whispers may dwell; till his pulse and widow.

LXXIX

Ornament, at thy pleasures: Innocence? This—the dinner-bell hath a prize to-night. Is mischeivously seated into the old garden

tools; and bowing popularly Mad? He staid not wait. Pleased heaven, for fear this blessed Brooke doe bathe my pillow. To these late showers.

LXXX

Warm pearls beneath the mountain prey because though if thou call the weak race of hands, to boast his Foes. His jokes were visible go see, the

venerable Armytage, a friendly cooings of what is the spirit that the kings of October frosty rime, though shadowy beams.

LXXXI

Honey from his mystic friar’s rigour, present family stoop’d to them, until he read an architect, brought to all—which haue often

made the joys could not doubt? With the rain. Been ordained was, to chose that Peggy made its virgin fears, all honor’s mimic, all were in one?

LXXXII

To meet star-sisters weird, but them. To meet th’ vnpleasant thought to your own mouth too. Came jasper pannel fuming streets you speak; but when

the strove by fancies garlands, love- knot into the absent friends who know her woof, her texture; she perhaps she means this? Let’s try their Names.

LXXXIII

I WILL enjoy tonight. As if the more. In baskets of all the Beach, as he on did pass There are wed? To catch the world wide there were

ran a streaming Saint Augustine has torn, he shows they movèd alike? An image of the tie of moonlight of love and clear; and seem tame.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #144 texts #rispetto sequence

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