#but helen is like. you KNOW something is wrong. shes not even hiding it. and yet somehow you still believe her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ruskaroma · 1 year ago

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ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 2: you get me closer to god.

Summary: John is a manipulator, and she, is the new subject of his obsession.

Warnings: this chapter contains stalking, mentions of large age gap, graphic descriptions of violence, and manipulation.

read the warnings. john is not only a menace, he is evilllll.

Author’s note: and we are back, baby. today, in this chapter, you are going to be witnessing a LOT of fucked up shit from none other than john wick himself. my man’s been doing a lot, god bless his poor soul.

also may i remind you all that the reader here is naive! she is stupid! she is not the brightest! she’s just desperate for attention and affection, so her decisions are always stupid and all of that. (please do not hate her, she is trying her best.)

this took me a while to write because it’s long asf and also because you know me, i always struggle with the english language, but i hope i won’t disappoint you with this chapter!

thank you so much for waiting and continuing to support this fic! really, it gives me a lot of motivation to keep writing, and i really appreciate all your sweet comments and reblogs on my last post.

i hope you also enjoy this new chapter since we’re going to have another peak of what goes on in john’s dark, dark mind. (I PROMISE THE SEX SCENE WOULD BE IN THE NEXT CHAPTER.)

and again, this is not edited so all mistakes are on me! i really do apologize, english is not my first language.

Word count: 10.6k

also read on AO3

In this business, you’d see different kinds of reactions when a man walks into a room.

They all see themselves above everybody else. They think they’re better, deadlier, smarter. That’s the kind of mindset you need if you want to survive. How will you get out of being held at gunpoint when you’re a weakling?

When a man walks into a room, they’ll take a moment to stare.

On the outside, you’d think these people have a lot of respect for one another since they all work in the same circle anyway. But in real life, you’d see the blatant lack of respect these people truly have for each other, because they’ll stare and judge.

When John walks into a room, it’s a different story.

Fear.

John is not like any other man in business they think they could just judge and get away with it, no. John is well respected and feared. He could see it in their eyes when he pass by. The extreme discomfort and alarm to be in the same presence as him. Even if they try so hard to hide it, John sees right through them.

They view him as… something but human. He’s a killing machine. An attack dog. A monster, some would even say.

Back in the days, John wasn’t exactly fond of the names they’ve been giving him. When he was still new in the game, he didn’t like how he struck fear over these people because he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the power he truly has over them.

But now, something has shifted.

John is a free man. Not the kind of free when he was with Helen, but free nonetheless. Free because instead of getting alarmed with the fact that he’s feared all over this underworld, he’s taking advantage of it. Much to the higher ups dismay. They have been having a very hard time keeping up with his recent activities.

Growing up, it seemed like John got the worst sadistic discipline in Ruska Roma.

All of them did, don’t get him wrong. All of them suffered – blood, sweat and tears. They were all forced to go through extreme discipline, because it’s the crack of the whip that gets the rats going.

But John… John got the worst of it.

He used to take the fall for his fellow students. Fingers couldn’t count just how many times he was belted on the back for someone else’s mistake. The amount of times he was starved, denied of any kind of food or water, and that’s how it’s always been.

John has always been denied for the things he wanted. The things he needed.

Now, he is not greedy. He’s not just going to take everything in his way like a kid that got away from its parents’ grip, because he doesn’t want a lot of things. John already has a house, a dog companion, enough money to last forever.

John already has everything except her.

His most happy moments couldn’t compete with the hot curl within his guts that he feels every time his mind flashes back to that night. That night when she gave in, when she gave herself away to him – willingly.

John didn’t need to give her a little push to finally get her. She practically offered herself to him, bared her neck and John’s itching to take a bite. To finally make her his once and for all, but really, he doesn’t need to do that to know that she’s his.

Like he said, he’s not going to force himself into her life. He’s going to be welcomed. By the looks of it, it seems like it wouldn’t be such a hard thing to do after all. Not when she’s already giving up information about herself to John through texts – she’s practically making it easy for him to get her.

So naive. Doesn’t got a fucking clue in the world.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Fucking mine –

John looks at his phone, reading the messages both of them sent each other the night before, and there it is again. The itch in his hands, the need to possess.

13.06.15 11:46 PM

Bambi: hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM

Bambi: also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

John changed her name on his phone. He changed it to something more… intimate. More sweet.

13.06.15 11:48 PM

John : I could never.

13.06.15 11:48 PM

John : You’re hard to forget.

He remembers – no, saw – how she responded. With a smile on her face, hopeful.

13.06.15 11:49 PM

Bambi : using my words against me, i see :D

13.06.15 11:49 PM

Bambi : good to know you’re still as slick as the last time we chatted haha

13.06.15 11:49 PM

John : Hard not to. I wanted to impress you.

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : you already did.

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : with all your brooding and intimidating look. just my type ;D

John smiles to himself as he reads the message. He remembers the look on her face when she’s typing, and hasn't got a clue that the man she’s flirting with was observing her just from across her building. John wouldn’t call it invading her privacy, he calls it keeping her safe.

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : anywho i asked for your number for a reason. i really do want to talk to you again. not just in chat, i mean, but also in real life :)

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : maybe we could get to know each other more? what do you say??? meet up again, but this time planned unlike our other previous meetups?? haha

He is not a teenager to be feeling this giddy over reading messages, but she truly brings out something shameful in him.

13.06.15 11:51 PM

John : I should be the one asking you that.

13.06.15 11:51 PM

Bambi : you were taking too looonggg :(

13.06.15 11:51 PM

Bambi : so what do ya think?

13.06.15 11:52 PM

John : Of course I’ll go. I told you I’d make time for you, didn’t I?

13.06.15 11:52 PM

John : I’m a man of my word.

13.06.15 11:52 PM

Bambi : ok that’s great! i was so worried you wouldn’t say yes.

John had averted his eyes from the phone that night and onto the little lady across the building. She was rolling around on her bed, still dressed in her pink, fluffy robe and her hair was still wet. She looks like a puppy that John wanted to pet; stroke her hair and tell her she’s his good girl.

13.06.15 11:52 PM

John : When do you want to meet?

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : aahhhhh let’s see

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : i have classes tomorrow morning BUTTT we can def meet up during lunch! i get out of school at like 12 and go to work at 3 :D

I know, John wanted to say. I’ve memorized your everyday schedule in the span of two days.

13.06.15 11:53 PM

John : How about I pick you up from your school, we grab lunch, and I drop you off to work?

13.06.15 11:53 PM

John : Or is it too soon?

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : oh my god no way REALLY?

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : nooo it’s not too soon don’t worry! you def could so we have more time to talk and everything! i just hope i won’t be bothering you or anything.

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : do you have work tomorrow? you look like a 9 to 5 kinda guy :P

God, she’s fucking adorable.

13.06.15 11:54 PM

John : I don’t, so you don’t have to worry. I’d love to talk to you more as well.

13.06.15 11:54 PM

Bambi : ok! i cannot wait for tomorrow. i should probably sleep now tho so i wouldn’t look shitty when you see me :D

13.06.15 11:54 PM

Bambi : here is the address of my school. [Address]

13.06.15 11:54 PM

Bambi : can’t wait to see you tomorrow, john! goodnight, see you soon! x

13.06.15 11:55 PM

John : Goodnight, sweet girl. Have a good sleep.

John hadn’t meant to type that. He felt his heart drop to his stomach, terrified that he somehow scared her away with the sudden affection. But then he saw her read his message, dropped her phone on the bed, and then rolled over again like a lap dog.

She’s too easy to tame, so gullible. John almost couldn’t believe how fast she folded, how desperate she really is. But then again, he could say the same about himself. Lonely and desperate, they were meant to be together. He likes to believe God had put them in this position because of fate, because he has a plan for every single one of us.

John’s never been the one to believe in Him, but he finds himself grasping to that very little delusion that keeps him from going insane.

11:55 AM, the students are already making their way out of their designated buildings.

John is keeping his guard on high alert, eyes scanning the crowd to find her. He’s parked just across the school gate, leaning against his car as he checks the time on his wrist. He’s also holding his phone in the other, waiting for it to vibrate in case she drops a message.

He’s never felt this giddy before. Hands clammy and eyes searching frantically, excited because he’s finally getting to spend alone time with her, but also worried in fear of losing her in the crowd. John doesn’t like it when he doesn’t have the upper hand. When he doesn’t have control of the situation. When she’s not in his line of vision and could be doing god knows what without his supervision.

He checks his phone again. 11:58, where is she?

John knows at this time, she should be out and about already, waiting for a cab to her apartment. His fingers itch, hovering over the screen of his phone. He begins contemplating if he should send a message, but that would make him look demanding and clingy. He doesn’t want to leave that kind of impression on her, or otherwise he’d have no choice but to abduct her and keep her locked away if she thinks about running –

He blinks, sucking in deep breath.

“Shit,” he whispers, looking up to the school gate again. This isn’t good. What the fuck was he even thinking?

John tries not to think about it. Tries to convince himself that he is not as fucked up as his mind is making him out to be. He wouldn’t stoop that low, he’s not that cruel –

Are you not?

A certain someone appears in the crowd, standing outside the school gate, already spotting John and waving at him from across the road. Her face is bright, smiling wide. John never wanted to possess something so bad.

He waves back, all his dark thoughts suddenly gone, and everything is rainbows and sunshine. John watches as she crosses the road carefully, looking left and right, seeming small with the people around her. She looks like a lost puppy.

John wants to pet.

“John, hey!” she beams, running up to him to give him a hug which catches John off guard. She’s on her tiptoes just to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders, and John doesn’t want to make her upset for not immediately reacting with her affection, and so he puts his arm around her waist and bends down to place his chin on her shoulder.

He fights the urge to bury his nose in her neck, then maybe sucks a few hickeys, leaving a bite mark to show that the big, bad wolf has already marked his mate.

She’s so fucking easy to get, John thinks.

When she pulls away from the hug, John tries not to look disappointed. Her cologne lingers in his nose. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“You don’t ever need to say sorry for that,” John says, faux stern as he places a hand on her waist subtly. She looks like she doesn’t mind, that’s a good thing.

“Okay then,” she smiles politely. “Oh, and I’m sorry if I look like a mess. Just say the words and I would totally change to more appropriate clothes before we go somewhere.”

“You look beautiful,” John says smoothly, standing up straight. Even though she looks underdressed next to John who’s wearing a three-piece suit, she is still heart-wrenchingly beautiful. In fact, John likes the contrast.

“T-thanks.”

“Should we go?”

“Sure! I’m excited,” she giggles, the sound practically dancing in his ear. “I’m hungry. Where will we eat?”

“Hm, what do you like?” he asks.

“Dunno. Burger and milkshake.”

“Sounds unhealthy.”

“The only thing I can afford, unfortunately,” she jokes, though John doesn’t answer, only opening the car door for her. “We should eat in a diner. I know a good one! Also cheap, so you won’t have to worry about the price.”

“I never worry about the price, darling,” John murmurs, but still loud enough for her to hear as she gets inside the vehicle. He swiftly walks to the driver’s seat and starts the car, glancing at his little bambi who’s observing the interior intensely. “You like it?”

“It’s so cool. I’ve never been in a car like this.”

“You’re going to have a lot of firsts when you’re with me.”

As John starts driving, the girl beside him babbles. Not that he minds, of course. He listens and nods, so obsessed with her voice that he could listen to it forever. It’s amazing how John could easily hide the fact that he was just stalking her from across her apartment the night before in the back of his mind, like it never even happened. It’s amazing how he could act like he wasn’t just thinking about kidnapping her and locking her away from the public forever.

But then again, everything about his little bambi would make anyone risk it all for her. It’s not just John. Anyone would do the same if they were in his shoes.

“How was school?” John asks, averting his eyes from the road for a moment to look at her.

“Eh, it was alright. Classes always drain me, no wonder I’m so hungry now,” she answers politely. One of the few things John noticed about her. How she doesn’t run out of things to say, how she can get the conversation going. “How about you? You going to work after our lunch? You’re dressed up for it.”

“I took the day off today,” he replies vaguely.

“What? Why?”

“I have a date with you.”

She seems to be shocked by John’s choice of words, but she’s more concerned with the fact that John took the day off for her. “Y-yeah, but you didn’t have to do that. We could just go on a date next time.”

“The sooner, the better,” he explains, feeling another surge of something hot into his veins. She agreed that this is a date. Just how fucking gullible can she get? “Work is no problem for me. I want to get to know you more.”

“O-okay. I wanna get to know you more too.”

When John catches a glimpse of her bright smile beaming at him, his hands tighten around the wheel and he steps on the gas harder.

John doesn’t like how his mind isn’t making him remember about Helen.

He should be remembering her. He should feel some kind of guilt for being in a restaurant with another woman, but he doesn’t. Every single day since she died, his mind would always make him think about her. But now, it’s like John completely forgot about her existence at all.

The wedding ring on his finger is long gone. Ever since his unhealthy obsession began, he thought that wearing that while doing something so sinful felt so wrong. Helen shouldn’t have to witness all the things he had done in the name of a girl he had only met once that time.

The diner isn’t packed with people. The sizzling of the burgers grilling on the pan and the chatters seem to drown out eventually when his little bambi starts talking.

John gives her a small smile, barely there, just to show her that he’s listening, all his attention is on her.

“Time seems to pass by so fast, huh? I remember when I bumped into you the first time, I really thought I wouldn’t see you again,” she starts the conversation with a bang, but thankfully John’s prepared for this type of talk.

“So you really wanted to see me then?” he smirks slightly.

“Yeah! You’re really good looking and it’s not always I see a guy as handsome as you in my apartment complex and my school,” she says bluntly, though John could see the faint blush on her cheeks when she mentions the word ‘good looking.’ “So of course I had to take my chance when I met you again at that club! God, you were my knight in shining armor. I would’ve been crushed to death if it wasn’t for you.”

“That’s why you should always be careful on the road. You’re small, everyone could look past you if you weren’t careful enough.”

She pouts, placing her chin on her hand as she stares lovingly at John. “You’re exaggerating. I’m not small. You’re just saying that because you’re too big. And I’m always careful on the road – it was only that time that I lost balance and almost fell.”

“Then it better not happen again,” John says sharply, leaning back against the cushioned seat as he stares back at her challengingly. “But there’s no need to worry for the next time. I won’t let that happen again.”

“Next time?” she teases. “So you want to see me again next time, then?”

“Have I not made it clear with my actions and words?” John shoots back, raising another eyebrow. She likes it when he’s being stern like this. All authoritative. She might not know it yet, but her body language speaks for itself. “Do you want to see me again?”

The little bambi smiles brightly, and It hurts. It hurts John to see that smile because she’s just like the sun. But no matter how much she shines, John would do anything just to touch. Just to possess. Just to break.

“Of course! I wouldn’t have gotten your number if I didn’t, right?”

“Good.”

It’s not like she could do much anyways if she says no. Nothing will ever stop John from seeing her again, no matter how bad the procedure would be.

The food then arrives and is served on the table, and John thinks he has never felt anything like this before.

His hands have never felt this itchy before. That desperate, longing feeling to just possess the very thing that’s placed right in front of you. Everything about her is just so captivating, staring up at John like he’s the one who hung the moon, so full of adoration and hope.

Seems like John isn’t the only desperate one between the two of them. He could see it in her eyes. She’s practically begging him to take care of her.

And really, he can’t blame her.

An absent mother and an alcoholic father. No wonder she’s seeking attention from a man like John. A man old enough to be her father – if not older than her own father. John would be more than willing to fulfill the role her father failed to be when she was young. He’d do anything to protect her, morals be damned.

She looks too good to be true sitting right in front of him and he didn’t think watching someone devour a burger twice as big as her face would be so endearing. The way she licks her lips, the way her eyes sparkle every time John would pay attention to the little things she’d absentmindedly insert in her stories. No one must’ve given her this kind of attention before. No one but John.

“Oh, before I forget!” She places a hand on John’s arm that’s perched on the table. A mere innocent touch, yet he can’t help but feel a little giddy on the inside. “We’ve been talking for like, an hour now, and I still haven’t asked what your job is. I’ve been really curious ever since you told me you took a day off just for this. Are you like the boss or something?”

Ah. Of course.

A question like this is inevitable, thank god John came prepared.

“No,” he simply says. “I’m a book binder. I collect and restore books as both a hobby and job.”

“Wow,” she nods her head, now interested as she leans forward and closer to him. She smells so sweet, John feels like he’s snorting sugar. “I didn’t think book binding could earn you so much money. Considering you’re dressed pretty… comfortably. And you have a nice car.”

“It pays enough,” John replies. Sooner or later she’d find out what he really does for a living, and no doubt she’d be scared. John already has a plan of action for when that would happen, but for now, he’ll try to keep it a secret as long as he can. “Pays enough to let me spoil you in the future. In fact, I think I might just start spoiling you now.”

“You say that to every woman you meet?” She quirks an eyebrow, teasing.

“Just for you. You’re special.”

John sees the way she immediately turns shy and nervous from the statement. It must’ve felt overwhelming, having someone so much older and with more experience to hit on her like that. But John would say it brings a whole different feeling in him, like ego-lifting of some sort, knowing he just might be the only man that treated her right in her life.

Does killing one of her guy friends and storing him in his basement means treating her right? Does stalking her and watching her sleep from across the building is a way to treat her right? Different story to be told for another day.

“I believe you,” she says, smiling.

Of course you do.

John diverts her attention from him. “You’re a veterinary student and also part time in a veterinary clinic. What made you want to pursue it?”

“Uh, let’s see. I don’t really have like, a very logical reason for it. I just really love animals and I want them to be part of my job as well,” she shrugs. “As for the part time thing, one of my older friends works there and got me in to gain some experience. I don’t really do much, I help with the paperworks and watch how they do stuff around there.”

I know.

“Your unconditional love for animals is logical enough.”

“I know right. Best job in the world, I might add. I get to pet all kinds of different animals everyday, and mind you I’m not even a real doctor yet,” she giggles, then tilts her head in curiosity. “Do you have a pet, John?”

“I do. I have a dog,” he answers, taking a sip of his own milkshake. It’s sweet, it’s something he’s not used to, but it reminds him of her. “Unfortunately, I haven’t named her yet.”

She frowns. “Why not?”

“I don’t know how to. I’m not good with names,” John shrugs. This conversation with her alone just might be the longest conversation he’s ever shared with someone ever since Helen died. And even with his late wife, he wasn’t as talkative as this. “Maybe you could name her. She’s a large pitbull but surprisingly very gentle for her size.”

“Oh my god, John, I have to meet her!” She beams. “Maybe on our next date, don’t you think? Let’s bring her with us to the park, have a little picnic there or something.”

Next date.

She wants to go on another date with him and she is making this a lot easier for John.

His lips stretch into a rare smile, fingers twitching subtly around the glass as he stares right into her eyes. There’s no hidden intention behind them, just pure adoration with a twinge of hope. Probably hopes that John wants the same thing as her, but he wouldn’t let her know that she is in for a lot more than she bargained for.

“I can’t wait for our next one.”

John could still remember the little things that made him feel human.

Back in the Marines, when he first killed somebody, he felt a tremendous amount of guilt and self-hating that he couldn’t sleep for a week. He’d have nightmares of it; of holding his gun up to somebody’s head and blowing it up with just one single movement. The residue of the flesh splattered all over his face, some of them even went to his mouth. His hands shaked but he didn’t let his crew see it. In their eyes, that wasn’t the first time he had done it.

When he was recruited by Viggo and his little minions, the guilt of killing people was still there, but barely. He used to wish he didn’t feel any guilt or remorse at all every time he pulled a trigger, but looking back at it now, he wishes he could just take it all back. It was only guilt that he felt most of his life, but it made John human.

Now, he doesn’t feel very human as he stands in the middle of an abattoir holding a machete with pints of blood pooling at his shoes.

Back then, he used to kill. Point, shoot, leave. A very short routine he told himself to stick with unless he wanted to get in trouble. But now, he is not only just killing. John is fucking slaughtering people.

His eyes land on the dead body hanging from the meat hook. Naked, gutted alive just a few moments ago. His stomach is sliced open with his own intestines wrapped around his neck, and it fucking stinks.

The raw stench of human blood mixing with the already reeking smell of the slaughtered pigs hanging just besides the one John had slaughtered himself.

Really, John should feel even just a little amount of remorse or disgust. His client didn’t particularly gave him a specific order on how to fucking kill the target, John did it himself. He didn’t know what the fuck was he thinking when he was doing the wet work, all he knows is that he’s getting worse each day that passes.

The killing part took some time considering the man certainly put up a fight. He was smuggling drugs inside the pigs he was slaughtering. It works on people too, though it’s too risky. Dying with balloons of cocaine up your throat or ass isn’t exactly the way you’d want to die, nor the kind of state you want your body to be in.

John really didn’t mean to go this far, but all the pent up anger and frustration led him to do something so ugly. He feels like a ticking bomb. Every second a little part of humanity just starts fading away, who knows what would happen if all of it were gone.

This is his first kill since his date with his bambi. That was five days ago. John decided to take another job while he’s waiting for her next decision. He doesn’t want to look clingy and creepy by constantly texting her every chance he gets, so he lets her do it in her own phase. Though, waiting for her texts sure did take a lot of rampant rage on John’s side. Lots of broken furniture and a creepy amount of hours watching her sleep from across the building.

Just because John is letting her do her own thing for the meantime, doesn’t mean he gets to take his eyes off of her. It’s for the best.

Their last conversation was yesterday. It was a pretty long conversation, but not long enough for John’s satisfaction. She left it off by saying she’s going to be busy studying for her test and cleaning her apartment, which John didn’t have the time to check if she was telling the truth since he was busy himself.

John is dying to see her again but he knows he’s gonna have to wait it out in the Continental. Or maybe if he’s feeling a little bit insane, he’d ditch having to rest and spend his time sitting on a dusty chair in the same dusty room he’s been staying in for awhile; the building across from her apartment. But until then he’ll have to see where time will take him.

His phone ringing in his jacket is what snaps him from his thoughts. Bringing a bloodied hand to get it, he almost couldn’t press the screen by the slippery liquid covering his fingers. John presses the phone to his ear, waiting for the person to speak.

“Hey, boss. How’s Russia treating you so far? Hopefully not great ‘cause I’ve got some news that will cheer you up.” The deep voice of Alex echoes in the abattoir. It must’ve slipped John’s mind that he had sent Alex again to tail her again while he’s out overseas.

He furrows his brows, curious. “How is she?”

“Hm, let’s see here. Your little pet has been up and about all day with her little friends after they’ve finally noticed the disappearance of that little shit we took care of a while back – speaking of which, how is he by the way?”

“Rotting. Dissolving in my basement,” John replies, hands tightening around the handle of the machete. So this is what she’s been doing and the reason why she hasn’t messaged him all day. “I say the fucker got what he deserved. He’s a creep who preys on women to rape, I’m just thankful we got him out of the way before he got to her.”

“Yeah, well. She doesn’t know that and I doubt she’d even stop looking for her creepy friend unless they’ve found him. What do you want me to do?”

“Give it a day or two. Wait for me to get back and I’ll take it from there.”

“Anything else?” John hears loud chattering in the background, he furrows his brows.

“Yeah. Where are you right now?”

“Uhh, keeping her in my sight like you told me to?” Alex sounds particularly sassy. John doesn’t know if he should be pleased or not. “She’s at a restaurant. I think she’s having a meeting with her other friends or something – she looks upset.”

“Upset because of her missing friend, I assume.”

“Probably. Have you talked to her at all today, boss? Pretty sure I have not yet seen her pick up her phone all day.”

“No,” John simply says. “But she will. I’m sure of it.”

“I see you’ve finally gotten her dependent on you now.”

“Not enough, apparently, since she’s gone a full day without talking to me.”

“Well, you’re definitely getting there,” Alex says under his breath. “I’m going now, boss. They’re leaving to god knows where.”

John doesn’t say anything else, only ending the call and pocketing back his phone. He looks around the area, the coppery smell of blood is stronger than before. He is the reason why it stinks in here, the reason why there’s so much blood and brutality. The body that hangs right in front of him is lifelessly staring with dead, cold eyes. John resists the urge to shove a balloon of fucking cocaine into his stomach, the same thing he’s been doing with these pigs, brutalize him more if that’s even possible, but he knows it wouldn’t help his already worsening mentality.

The thought of someone seeing this body and thinking about how fucked up the person who did this doesn’t concern him as much as it should.

Instead, John turns his heels and walks away from the scene.

Unsurprisingly, getting her to depend on John isn’t the hardest task to do.

It just might be the easiest.

The moment John arrives at the Continental, he takes his time to message his bambi. It’s only reasonable, he wouldn’t come out as a clingy creep since it’s been a full day since his last message, he has every right to know what and how she’s doing despite already getting enough pictures and updates from Alex.

He asks her how she’s been, waits for approximately ten minutes before he finally gets a reply. In those ten minutes, John takes his time scrolling through the pictures Alex had sent him. Pictures of her bundled up in large, colorful sweaters and wearing a frown on her pretty face. She looks rough, but she makes looking rough look good.

Bambi : hi, john :(( sorry i didn’t text you all day. was busy with something

John : That’s alright, I understand. I’m just glad you replied. Did something come up? Was it about school?

Bambi : kind of. my friend from school is missing and we don’t know where he is. we’re worried because he hasn’t answered any of our calls for a week and his apartment is practically empty.

Reading that almost makes him resist an urge to sickly smile to himself. His fingers hover the screen, careful of what his next words might be.

John : I’m sorry to hear that. Have you gotten any updates from the police? What did they say?

Bambi : nothing yet unfortunately. no one saw him the night he went missing :(

John : I’m sure you’ll find him soon enough. I hope nothing extremely bad happened to your friend.

He sounds… manipulating. There aren’t any more words that could describe what John is doing to her. He doesn’t even know if he can still make up excuses to tell himself that everything is completely fine and normal.

The girl that he likes is currently sharing about the horrifying tragedy her ‘friend’ is facing, the horrifying tragedy being John’s fault, and he’s fucking lying about it. And what truly terrifies him the most is not about the fact that he’s manipulating her, he’s terrified because it feels normal and just… fine.

Normal, normal, normal–

Can John really win her over by going this path? If not, would it really matter?

He will still have the upper hand if this doesn’t end well. But then again, there’s a very small chance that it wouldn’t – if not none at all. John just needs to play his cards well and there wouldn’t be a problem.

Bambi : thank you john. really hope that too. it doesn’t feel the same without him

John’s jaw ticks.

What do you mean it doesn’t feel the same without that fucker? I killed him for you! He was a creep who only wanted to fuck you and take you away from me and–

A dangerous feeling suddenly surge into his veins that he wants to put back together all the pieces of that fucker just to destroy it in his hands once again.

Maybe mutilating him and dissolving him in pure acid just isn’t enough. Maybe he deserved more. Maybe John should’ve took his fucking time torturing that little shit instead of killing him instantly.

John : And how are you? I hope you’re not too worried about this matter that you start to forget about taking care of yourself.

Bambi : i’m doing fine, but a bit sad bc of it. i also miss you and i wish u’re here so i wouldn’t be too sad

And just like that, it’s like all his resentment and rage just one minute prior vanished in a snap of a finger. A small smile makes its way to his face and a surge of ego soars into his chest. She has no idea she’s got a dangerous assassin wrapped around her finger and the consequences it’d bring her.

Bambi : are u still overseas? when will you be back?

John : Tomorrow, hopefully.

John : And I miss you too, sweetheart. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I finish work.

Bambi : can’t wait to see you. do u want me to pick u up at the airport? :D

John : Thank you, baby, but that won’t be necessary. I don’t want to keep you busy when you already have too much in your hands.

Bambi : mkay. but call me or text me when u arrive, ok?

John : Of course.

John is not stupid.

If he ever noticed a man following his every step, he didn’t once care or say a word.

It’s one of Winston’s men, obviously, following him around throughout his business in Russia up to boarding the same plane as him back to New York. Considering John had managed to catch on pretty quickly at the fact that Winston sent someone to trail him, this poor guy is not doing a particularly good job.

At first, John thought about taking care of the guy himself and bringing Winston a souvenir of his dog’s fingers or even one of his eyeballs, but decided that he is not that cruel.

He could be, but knowing he holds all the power over several people under The Table makes John wants to play the game a little longer and just fucking shiver in excitement.

Obviously Winston had noticed that John is up to no good. Not that it’s any of his business, he’s more likely just scared for his own life. He’s probably thinking it was a bad idea to bring John back into the game now that he’s living up to the horrors of his reputation and giving people exactly what they wanted.

When John first returned to the field, it was only to avenge his late wife and nothing more. But now that a bigger monster has grown within him over the course of his stay, he’s now also looking for the fuel to his fire.

And boy did he find it.

The fuel being in the form of a young woman who’s unaware of how much power she has over John. It’s only a matter of time before all hell breaks loose.

10:56 PM.

“Hello.”

“Hello? John?”

“It’s me, darling. How are you?”

“Doing fine. Studying for my exam and all. Why are you calling at this hour, though?”

“Just wanted to let you know that I just arrived back in New York and see how you’re doing.”

“Oh, John, it’s so late. I was thinking earlier that you would arrive tomorrow morning or afternoon, you didn’t tell me you boarded a flight.”

“I wanted to be back as soon as possible and wanted to surprise you, but my flight got delayed so I only just arrived now.”

A soft laugh rings in his ear.

“You’re so cheeky. We can just meet up tomorrow if you’d like, go on a picnic at a park or something. I really, really wanna meet your dog.”

John hears a sigh, then the sound of paper rustling in the background. He counts – one, two, three – here it comes.

“I miss you, John.”

He pushes the curtain aside with two fingers, peering his eyes in the small opening as he watches the figure at the other side of the building. She’s sitting on her study desk in front of a laptop, freshly showered and wearing specs that John can’t help his heart to ache.

It’s been so long.

“I miss you too, sweetheart. Couldn’t stop thinking about you when I was away.”

“That’s very sweet. I hope you brought souvenirs for me, though, or otherwise I will be very sad.”

“How can I forget? I bought everything that reminded me of you when I was there.”

“Now you’re just spoiling me.” Another laugh, then John sees her getting up from the chair and laying on the bed. “I’m happy that I’d get to see you again tomorrow, John. Everything that’s been happening is just so… I don’t know. Stressful, I guess. From my friend missing and school work, I don’t even know where to start. I just wanna be with you again.”

The mention of her friend Jay ticks him the wrong way, but he can’t also help but notice the longing and desperation laced in her voice as she said the last part. John knows it wouldn’t be too hard for her to be dependent on him, he just didn’t expect it to be this easy. They’ve only met once in real life, but their constant texting and calling through the phone makes it up for it.

“Don’t let yourself worry too much on matters that don’t concern you.”

Silence, then John watches her bite her nail anxiously. “What do you mean by that, John?”

He doesn’t particularly like the way his name just rolls off her tongue like that – like she’s his age, the same way Helen used to call him. He doesn’t want to be reminded of Helen when he’s with his little bambi, it just makes him feel even shittier with the situation. It sorta reminds John how much he truly changed when he lost Helen.

“Don’t worry about your friend too much. I know it’s hard that he’s missing, but don’t put him first before your own well being,” John advises, manipulation just dripping off his tongue like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He doubts she would notice, though. “I’m sure the police got it covered by now. I’m more worried about you.”

John could still see her expression through the window despite being far away. She’s thinking about it, letting herself get swayed by his lies and persuasion. She’s too easy, she just doesn’t know it herself, but John does. And he’s going to take advantage of it as much as he can.

He counts again – one, two, three – and she’s dropping her hand to the bed and sighing softly. There she is.

“Okay. You’re probably right, I worry too much.”

John doesn’t reply but gives a silent hum that indicates he’s agreeing. He sees her taking off her glasses and putting it on the bedside table, suddenly the itch in his hands is back.

There’s a voice nagging at the back of his head and asking him just what the fuck is he doing, that he should stop this madness before it gets out of hand, but would that really make a difference? Even if John did stop, he’d still continue to live with the fact that he was a monster who stalked a young woman out of sheer obsession. He’d already got her dependent on him, he’d already laid out the plan on how this would turn out, why is he suddenly questioning now?

He had done stuff that was worse than manipulating. He didn’t feel a single drop of empathy when he was slaughtering people and shooting them in the head, but why does he feel guilty manipulating her?

“John? Did you already fall asleep on me?”

Soft voice snaps him out of his thoughts, then it’s followed by a soft giggle. John feels butterflies exploding in his stomach.

“Sorry. I was just–”

“It’s okay, John, you can sleep. You’ve probably had a long day since you’ve been on a flight and everything. I’m going to sleep now too, we have a date tomorrow, remember? Don’t forget.” The faux strictness in her voice makes him smile, then he sees her smiling just as big through the window; giddy and excited. “Goodnight, John. It’s really nice talking to you again. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up first, smiling to herself before putting the phone back to her nightstand. She settles on the bed comfortably, tucking herself into her blanket, unaware of the fact that there’s a monster lurking on the other building, watching her every move like a hawk.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the old mirror on the dusty wall, dressed in black and predatory, reminiscent of the devil himself.

Might as well live up to the name.

John is aware of how dead he looks in people’s eyes. He barely smiles, he’s always dressed in black, and he always has trouble showing emotions through his face. He makes sure that he gives off that aura that shows how much he dislikes everyone in the fucking room. How much he just wants to pull out his gun and shoot every single one of them in the head.

John despises the way they look at him. Like they pity him for losing his wife, for getting dragged back to the life he had already left. Though, he can’t really blame them, really. He used to pity himself too, even now for letting himself get even worse, but he wouldn’t really call it pity. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s not pity.

The next day is interesting, to say the least.

He couldn’t get a minute of sleep the night before, the image of her sleeping so peacefully without a worry in the world bored into his mind. It’s extremely fascinating to him just how careless and… dumb she is. Dumb in a way that it’s benifiting John – the both of them, actually – and not in an offensive kind of way.

It was around two in the morning when he returned back to the hotel, managed to sleep for an hour or two before ripping off the blankets and had a drink the first thing in the morning. John didn’t bother taking a nap after that, just walking around the room making sure all is well and everything will be according to plan.

At 8 AM, she texted John a good morning and said it would be better for their date to be at 4 PM. John then replied that it was perfect, though he doubts he can wait that long.

12 PM, for a man as calm and collected as John, he sure as hell can’t fucking sit still in one place.

He’s paranoid. No amount of texts from his bambi is enough to keep him calm. The time is ticking too slowly for his liking and he has no other things to do in his free time. Except be paranoid.

John grabs his coat, kisses his dog goodbye and decides to stop by a grocery store to prepare for their date. He should at least make them both a sandwich and buy drinks, knowing that the little gesture would be enough to put a smile on her face.

1 PM, John comes back with shit ton of paper bags in his arms. He’s doing too much, he knows it, but too much is still better than not enough.

John goes to the kitchen to prepare. The orphanage taught him how to cook – well, not really. John taught himself how to cook, because if he’s not going to cook for himself and half of the kids back in Ruska, they’d all be dead with no survival instincts to save them from starvation. Being an assassin who could withstand any form of torture all while not knowing how to cook would be the greatest joke of the century. John’s not the one to be laughed out.

2 PM, everything is settled and in place, his little bambi texts him to let him know that she’s getting ready and cannot wait for their date. John then takes his time to get ready too.

3 PM, John is dressed in a nice white t-shirt with a brown leather jacket on top. He looks civilised, no one would know a damn thing that he’s one of the most feared men in the underworld who slaughters people for a living.

His dog is quiet in the corner, chewing on her bone toy until John puts a collar and leash around her neck. Her eyes perks up in excitement, already knowing they would go outside to play. John always takes his time making sure she gets to socialize with other dogs, whether it’s in a park or just down the street.

“You’re excited, baby?” John murmurs, petting her ears softly as he kneels down to her position. “You’re gonna meet someone special. Want you to be nice to her, alright? She’s gonna be your mom.”

John hauls everything into his car in a matter of minutes. The picnic basket, the blanket, his gifts for his little one that he got from Russia, also including his dog. She’s behaved yet excited as she peeks in the mirror watching her owner work.

He slides into the driver’s seat and locks his seatbelt, starting up the car and driving away from the hotel. Earlier, John had seen a couple of his co-workers loading up his trunk dressed like he’s going on a date – because he is – no doubt they’re snitching and would tell Winston. He couldn’t care less.

He arrives outside her apartment after thirty minutes, parking his car right by the entrance. He can’t help but grimace as he looks around the place. He remembers meeting her here, the day after he killed that good-for-nothing junkie. He wonders if she ever got the news, how she reacted when someone got killed the same day John was visiting her area.

It won’t be long before she wouldn’t be living in this area no more. It’s too dangerous, filled with a bunch of goons who get themselves tangled up in petty gang wars. John knows a gangster when he sees one, and it looks like every single man who lives in these crowded apartments are either pushers or gangsters with no sense of direction in life.

She doesn’t belong here. She should be in John’s house, locked up and isolated where she’s safe under his supervision. He would treat her like a princess, give her the things she deserve.

John gets out of the car, pulls out his phone and sends her a message to let her know he’s outside her building. He leans against the car as he waits.

A minute passes and a very happy bambi appears in the elevator, dressed in a pretty sundress and a white tote bag with a text John can’t see. She’s beaming up at him as she exits the building, and John hasn’t got the time to react before she’s lunging herself forward and going on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Whoa easy,” John murmurs, immediately wrapping his arms around her waist for support, placing his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling her scent; it’s sweet, not a surprise. “You miss me that much?”

“So much, you don’t even wanna know,” she murmurs in his chest, not quite reaching his neck despite being on her tiptoes. “I hope you miss me just as much.”

John pulls away, gives her a look as he places her large hands on her hips. “I might’ve missed you more than you missed me.”

She giggles, John could see her eyes through the heart-shaped sunglasses she’s wearing. It’s cute. “That’s not possible, I will fight you for it.”

“Hm,” John hums, eyes wandering down her lips to her dress. It stops just above her knees, John has to mentally prepare himself for the worst. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she says sheepishly. “You like it? I think it’s the perfect picnic outfit.”

“I love it,” John clarifies. “Looks perfect on you.”

“You look gorgeous yourself,” she giggles, eyeing John up and down teasingly, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. He isn’t so sure how to react to that, hopefully his dick wouldn’t take the liberty to rise from the dead at this moment. “This is the first time I’ve seen you not wearing any suits. Domestic looks good on you.”

“What can I say, I’m a changed man.” John means both good and bad. “And before we go, I want to introduce you to someone.”

Before she gets a chance to ask, John slides out of the way from his position of covering the car window and reveals a very happy pitbull waiting to be introduced to her mother.

Her smile is wide when she spots John’s pet excitedly wagging her tail inside the car. “Oh my god, she is beautiful! John, open the door, hurry, hurry, hurry–”

“Okay, okay–”

The moment John pulls the door open, the dog comes rushing out to jump and starts licking her face.

“Oh, lookie here, baby! You’re such a cutie! What’s your name, hm? Don’t got a name yet? Your dad can’t think of a name to give ya’?”

Her giggles are like music to his ears.

The sound of paws pattering on the concrete and her high pitched voice talking to the dog fills the empty street in a matter of seconds. When she isn’t looking, John begins looking around the area, his eyes landing on the apartment building where he preys at some nights.

There’s a person at the front desk, staring at him like he knows something, and like a switch that goes off in his brain, John recognizes this man as the same one who bumped into him a few nights ago in the hallway in front of the abandoned room where he’s staying.

They meet eyes, John flashes him a knowing look, then the man immediately looks away.

John’s jaw ticks. He’s gonna have to deal with that later.

He turns his attention back to where it’s most needed. She’s still playing with the dog, crouching beside the car while the puppy just drowns in her affection. John really hates to break the moment.

“Shall we get going?” He interjects, voice deeper than usual, still feeling a little on the edge from that man by the front desk earlier.

“Sure. She gonna be in the backseat?”

“You bet.”

John opens the door for the both of them and lets her help the puppy get inside. Before he slams the door close, he makes sure to take another look at the apartment, seeing the man already staring back at him.

Yeah. He’s really gonna have to deal with that later.

They arrive at the park around 4:25 and John is the one to set up their spot while she and the puppy play in the empty field. It’s empty, totally empty, and John couldn’t be more thankful than that since he really doesn’t want to be around other people besides her. She’s the only one that matters.

John notices that she brought her own dog toys, probably the ones she keeps to herself since she does work in a vet clinic after all. The sight of her happily running around the grass with his dog is enough to bring him to his knees, he is only but a man.

John calls her to eat and the two of them come running towards him and plops down on the soft blanket next to the basket full of fruits.

“Had fun?” John speaks, sitting beside her on the ground as he watches her get a plate of pasta for the two of them. She insists she gets to plate their food, John lets her.

“Very. Didn’t know she’s quite energetic, luckily for her I can match her energy extremely well.”

“It comes with being young, I guess. Can’t really relate,” he jokes, receiving the plate full of pasta she gives him while she snickers at the statement.

“Come on, John. You’re still fit despite being old.” John watches her take a bite of the food. He’s not subtle, he’s straight up staring at her lips as she wraps her mouth around the fork, savoring the flavor with closed eyes. “Hm, this is delicious. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“By myself,” he shrugs, taking a bite of his food to keep him from taking a bite of her instead. “I’m surprised you aren’t creeped out.”

“With what?”

“With my age,” John makes it clear. “You’re young with a bright future ahead of you–”

“Yet here I am having a date with an old man?” she interjects, wiggles her eyebrows, teasing clearly with the way she emphasizes the last part. “I can’t believe you thought I’m gonna get creeped out. You’re a grown man with a stable job and not to mention very hot, I find that very sexy.”

“You think I’m sexy?” he raises a brow.

“Yes, I think you’re very sexy. I haven’t once encountered a guy my age who has the same status as you,” she sets down the plate on her lap for a moment. “You know, experienced and mature.”

“I see,” John nods. It’s very clear that she’s always found the people who contrast her so well attractive. She wants a savior that would save her from everything, luckily John fits in the description quite too well.

They delve in a normal conversation after that. John makes sure to steer away all questions regarding him and his life, a way to learn more about her other than the pictures and videos and information he’d been sent by Alex.

John already knows a lot about her, it wouldn’t hurt to learn a little more.

Ten minutes go by, a bottle of wine has been pulled out of the basket and she’s spilling her whole life to John in a matter of moments. From lttle memories from childhood to how she moved from her hometown to New York to get away from her father. How when she was younger, she begged her toys to talk to her and she wouldn’t tell anyone. How their family pet back in the days impacted the choices she made to choose her career path – to become a veterinarian.

John listens. He’s always been good at listening instead of talking, so he listens.

5 PM, the two of them play with the dog and she decides to name her “Blue.”

“Is it because she has blue eyes?” John asks.

“Yeah. Not really original, I know, but it fits her.”

“Blue is perfect.”

It’s already 6 PM when they decide to head home. She’s still talking the moment they’re in the car and John is still listening. There’s something about her voice that just… pulls him in. It’s so sweet and soft.

When they arrive outside her apartment complex, it’s dead silent.

“I really enjoyed our date today, John,” she smiles when he opens the door for her, now standing in front of him and looking up to meet his eyes. “The pasta was delicious. I hope I get to eat more of them in the future – and oh, I really, really enjoyed playing with Blue! I’m so thankful that you let me name her even though it wasn’t really special–”

“Hush,” John jokingly interrupts. “The night might be over, but I can assure you that I will see you soon again.”

“How soon would that be again?”

“Eager to see me already?”

“Maybe.”

“You know I always make time for you, sweetheart,” John croons, placing a large hand on her chin and staring deeply into her eyes. “Is it too early for me to kiss you?”

She laughs, then wraps her arms around his waist to pull him in closer. John looks at her and falls in love for what to be a millionth time today. She never fails to take his breath away. “Not too early, I promise you. You should’ve done that sooner.”

“Well, I’m gonna do it now.”

Before she can add another word, John leans down to smash his lips against hers, his large hand finding its way on the small of her back to deepen the kiss that she can’t help but whimper into his mouth.

Fuck.

Her lips are so, so soft. John can still taste the lingering sweetness of the wine from earlier and being so close to her that her scent is shutting off his entire brain. If he won’t stop, he might just end up fucking her on the hood of his car until she can’t walk straight.

Their lips move in tandem and she’s following his head like she always does. Her small hands are gripping his leather jacket for support, so pliant and vulnerable, already trusting him enough to kiss him on their second date.

This is a sudden shift in his universe, John knows he’s already won.

He’s the first to pull away and their lips are wet and connected with saliva. She’s flushed and out of breath like expected, John wants nothing more but to break her and make her his.

Oh wait, she already is.

“How was that?” John asks, voice deep.

“I wanna do it again.”

He chuckles, rubbing his thumb on her cheeks while she’s busy avoiding his eyes. “Let’s save it for next time.”

He’s gonna control himself.

“That next time better come by fast,” she threatens jokingly. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Don’t talk like you’re not gonna see me for days, baby,” John whispers. “You know I won’t let you go that easily. You’re mine now.”

He doesn’t miss the way her pupils dilated and the way the clutch she has on his leather jackets becomes tighter. She’s already fallen deep into his trap, John wants to push his claws in even deeper.

“Say it again,” she mutters, leaning in against his warm large hand as she closes her eyes. “Say it again. Please.”

John smiles when she isn’t looking. He really won.

“You’re mine.”

That same night, 4 AM, John is back in his work clothes and arranging something in a dark room.

The stench of metallic blood hitting his nose, and he stands in the middle of the room to inhale that scent – god, does he truly miss it.

The sight of a man in front of him wakes something dangerous within John’s veins. Hands tied up behind the chair, head dropped forward, lifeless and cold. His lower stomach is open, guts hanging off the floor as the other half is used to gag him in the mouth. His eyes are missing, John took the liberty to take them out for staring at him too much, and he couldn’t be any more relieved when he did.

“What do you know?” John had asked as soon as the man woke up from his head concussion.

“Y-You!” The man had yelled, John didn’t bother finding out his name. “You fucking creep –”

John’s hands twitched beside him. He remained silent.

The man went on a rant about how he’d seen John around lurking outside the apartment complex and using the abandoned room on the fifth floor and that’s all John needed to know.

He didn’t need another pair of eyes to tell him what’s right and wrong. Winston is already enough.

The next morning, John receives a text from none other than his bambi. A picture of numerous police cars outside her apartment and an ambulance, and another picture of a dead body covered in white blanket getting pulled out of the building.

Bambi : there was an accident that happened near me, john :((

Bambi : the police said somebody was killed and i’m scared

Bambi : they said he was gutted alive

John is smiling to himself when he types his response.

John : What kind of a sick person would do something like that?

He is not a sick person. He’s just in love.

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protagaster · 1 month ago

Text

Part 2 of the Warrior!Penelope Swap AU

I really wanted to introduce the crew's Golden Trio, or the ladies who are Penelope's version of Eurylochus & Polites. I think you'll all really like them :)!

(Cross-Posted on Ao3)

Full Speed Ahead

Finally, after having won the Trojan War and securing the future of the Greek world, Penelope and her crew brave the sea to make their way back home.

Finally, after 10 long years, it was over.

10 years of what many assumed would be endless warfare.

10 years of watching husbands and wives be ripped away from each others’ embrace, of parents having to wipe the tears of their children whilst hiding their own, of being forced to say goodbye to the homes they spent their whole lives searching for.

10 years of having to watch their friends and comrades be forever changed by the turmoils of war. Some were killed, those lucky few, while the others had the rest of their lives to adapt to their new bodies.

10 years of constant battle, both mental and physical, in an effort to survive whilst knowing they would never be the same again.

It was a long and hard-sought after ending, but against all odds the Greeks had managed it.

The Trojan War had officially come to an end.

But by the Gods it wasn’t easy.

Throughout that very first year of war everything that could have gone wrong, well, it went wrong.

After the battle that took place subsequent to Helen’s rescue, practically every Greek man found his body to be damaged beyond repair. While many were expected to recover after long periods of rest, being told they would one day be able to wield their weapons in the name of spars, hunting, and training, they knew they could never again fight in a battlefield.

That’s when the decree from the Gods came.

Greece still needed an army. Because their men were no longer fit for war, it was the duty of the women to take their place in the battlefield.

Once a daughter of Sparta, and later chosen to become the student of the God of War himself, Penelope was first to be picked for combat; her closest friends were picked shortly after. A small percentage of Ithaca’s women, those who were of age and considered skilled enough to survive Troy, were also forced to follow suit.

It was a difficult decade, everyone could agree. There were times when even Penelope began to lose hope of this war ever coming to an end, all the blood and screaming permanently etched into her memory.

But now, thanks to her tactical mind and ferocious combat prowess, the Greeks emerged victorious!

No longer will she need to worry about every single decision of hers being questioned by her subordinates.

No longer will she have to worry about the sounds of screams haunting her memories, hearing them at night as they keep her awake.

No longer will she have to worry about a single one of her comrades being killed for the sake of pride, for she no longer had any enemies that would wish her nor her sisters harm.

Penelope sighed happily.

Only moments ago she had bid a tearful goodbye to her cousin; Helen and Menelaus boarded a ship to Sparta, ecstatic they now had the rest of their lives to spend together. The same went for the rest of her sisters-in-arms, ready to finally live out the rest of the lives they had left behind.

Something the women of Ithaca were hoping to achieve.

Standing at the front of her ship, Penelope watched as the place that was once known as the Kingdom of Troy shrink smaller and smaller with distance. Soon there was no more land, only miles and miles of shimmering blue ocean water.

Penelope did not mind.

After all, Ithaca was a kingdom surrounded by beaches. The ocean was like an old companion; though she may be unpredictable at times, you could always count on her to be right where you left her.

She let the sea breeze blow through her hair, smelled the scent of sand and saltwater as they envelop her senses, and felt the cool air of open water embrace her like an old friend.

Taking a peak over her shoulder, Penelope looked at each individual member aboard her main vessel.

44 women.

44 out of 600, to be exact. While Penelope knew she could trust every member of her fleet, especially with their gratitude in them all coming out of the war alive, there was just something different about the 44 women aboard her main vessel.

There was an extra level of trust she put into these women in particular. Penelope knew inside her heart that out of her entire fleet, the members of this ship would be the first to support her no matter what.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts and returning to the moment at hand, Penelope watched as each of her sisters l did her individual part to ensure the ship navigated the wild waters quickly and smoothly.

Looking over at the other 11 ships following her own, Penelope could see the women aboard those crafts were doing the same.

Behind each and every woman's hard work and determination was a sense of excitement; finally, after 1 year of helplessness and 9 years of struggle, they were making their way back to Ithaca.

“Six hundred friends,” Penelope sang out proudly, her sweet voice a melody flowing merrily with the sea's wind. “All of these women under my command! With only one goal in mind-”

“Make it back alive to our homeland!” Her comrades finished for her.

“Six hundred friends,” Penelope couldn’t help but be amazed as she ogled the powerful waves supporting her fleet, unable to help stretching her hand over the horizon. “Six hundred miles of open sea,”

Penelope eyebrows furrowed despite her cheer, for she knew deep within that her story was only just beginning

“But the problem's not the distance-”

“It's what lies in between.” The others agreed.

“And Ithaca's waiting!” Penelope belted.

“Ithaca's waiting!” The others repeated.

“My kingdom is waiting!” Penelope's eyes glazed with yearning, knowing her home was only so far away.

“The kingdom is waiting!” Her sisters exclaimed.

Penelope smiled to herself, looking up at her still outstretched hand. Right there, standing out against the suns’ beams and tides’ gleam, her wedding ring sparkled against the light blue background.

Not once, these past ten years, had she allowed the ring to part from her person. The ring, a band of silver and ivory that was both modest and gorgeous, symbolized so much more to her than the union between her and her beloved husband.

To Penelope, it was a reminder of the goal she’d work so hard to achieve for the past decade. What she promised herself she’d accomplish, no matter what it took.

“Odysseus’ waiting for me!”

Waiting...

“So full speed ahead…”

Penelope gave her wedding ring a quick kiss, something she couldn’t help but do every time her eyes lingered on it. Letting her arm relax to her side, Penelope’s perspective of the sea once again claimed her eye.

“Full speed ahead…”

The sea breeze blew through her long dark hair, loose and free to sway like the waves below, and kissed her blooming cheeks, giving the appearance of a heroine of legend to all who gazed upon her.

“Captain!”

Penelope was quick to give her full attention to the one who called out her name, for she recognized the voice of the women whose guided and stayed by her side since the day she first called Ithaca home.

There she was, the shortest, strongest, and most trusted member of Penelope’s main crew.

Ctimene.

Though she was small, Ctimene was not one to be underestimated. Even though it was her brother who was blessed with Athena’s guidance, the Goddess of Wisdom was also apt to pay special attention to his younger sister.

Not only was she an occasional skeptic and formidable warrior in her own right, she was, of course, the princess of Ithaca. Fourth in the Kingdom’s hierarchy behind only Penelope, her brother Odysseus, and her niece Telemachas.

Her short wavy hair, mirroring that of her elder brother’s, tousled in the sea’s gale, perfectly framing her stern but caring eyes. Ctimene was one of the people whose beauty could never fade despite the amount of blemishes she obtained. Somehow, the faint scar going over her right eye only made her more attractive to the men who gazed upon her.

It was no wonder Eurylochus fell in love in such little time.

Ctimene, with one hand on her hip, placed her other hand on her much taller captain’s arm. She gestured to a cluster of wooden barrels that were supposed to be filled.

“Six hundred friends! Six hundred friends with starved mouths to feed,” she wordlessly commanded one of their comrades to tip a barrel, revealing its very empty contents. “And we've run out of supplies to eat.”

“Curse the war, our food stores depleted.”

“Six hundred friends,” Ctimene clenched her fists, unsure of whether she could withstand even more suffering for her friends.

“Six hundred reasons to take what we can!” Ctimene, unsure of what they should do with this dilemma, looked to her sister-in-law with curiosity. “So captain, what's the plan?”

“Captain, what's the plan?”

Everyone wondered what plan the brilliant Penelope, Queen of Ithaca, the very reason behind the war’s end, could come up with in the face of this problem.

Penelope only smiled, gesturing Ctimene to look up at the sky.

“Watch where the birds fly,”

“Watch where the birds fly,” Her crew repeated after her.

“They will lead us to land!”

“There we'll hunt for food, my second in command,” Penelope spoke with courage, nothing but the utmost confidence in herself and her crew.

“Now full speed ahead!” Penelope ordered her comrades to follow the large flock of birds, all of whom were heading east. “Full speed ahead!”

Ctimene, with a satisfied smile and complete trust in her captain’s plan, was quick to help Penelope direct the ships to their desired destination.

“We're up, we're off, and away we go!”

“We're up, we're off, and away we go.” The women all chanted as they managed the ships, all of whom with full faith in their Queen.

“Full speed ahead!” Penelope continued to cry with enthusiasm.

“We're up, we're off, and away we go!”

And with that, the 12 ships set sail following their avian guides.

The fleet had been following the birds for quite a while, so long that the sun began to make contact with the ocean; the combination of their hues made for an enchanting mix of orange, pink, and blue.

All this time Penelope had not once stopped herself from looking up, even when her neck began to sore and her eyes grew heavy. The birds should have found their way to the nearest land by now, so why hadn't they chosen to land just yet?

“Captain!”

The second voice to call out for her that day, this one also familiar. However, this voice had a much more merry tone compared to the previous.

Penelope met the eyes of the woman who seized her attention, unable to control her smile even if she wanted to.

“Circes!”

Circes was the youngest of the friend group, though not by much. Like Ctimene, Penelope had first made Circe’s acquaintance shortly after making herself at home in Ithaca.

Once a simple village girl with nothing more than her optimism and clothes on her back, Circes and Penelope were quick to become close friends after the Ithacan native made an effort to teach her new Queen all about Ithaca’s culture and customs. Ctimene was almost always by Penelope’s side at that time, naturally leading to a bond between the Circes and the princess as well.

After years of sparring, weaving, and simply enjoying the atmosphere of their home with each other as company, it was no wonder the three women grew as close as they are.

Circes was a beautiful woman, which only made it more confusing once others realized she had never married. She was taller than Ctimene, though shorter than Penelope. Circes had light brown hair as long as Penelope's, always braided to the side. There'd always be a pink ribbon streaked between the locks, the ends knotted in a way that it almost resembled a rose; many of the other women would joke she was practically born with it.

Circes was a cheerful young lady who saw the best in others, eager to use words before resorting to weapons. However, do not mistake her altruism for naiveté; Circes was still a warrior and survivor of the Trojan war.

She just preferred to use the same philosophy that blessed her with a Goddess’ name.

“Look!” Circes pointed toward the horizon, where a tiny speck was beginning to grow larger and more distinct as the ship inched closer. “There in the distance, I see an island, I see a light that faintly glows,”

It was just as Circes said.

Now practically within swimming distance of the mysterious island, every woman could see a bright orange glow emanating from within the foliage.

“Maybe they're people lighting a fire. Maybe they'll share some food, who knows?”

…

No, Penelope thought to herself, feeling something was wrong.

From a single glance the captain could sense something sinister about the Island. It was perfect.

Too perfect.

“Something feels off here…” Penelope looked up at the Island’s sky, confirming her suspicions. “I see fire but there's no smoke…”

Ctimene, one who truly embraced Ares’ philosophy, already had one hand ready on the hilt of her broadsword.

“I say we strike first! We don't have time to waste so let's raid the place and-”

“No.”

Both Ctimene and Circes gazed in shock, for Penelope was a stickler for manners and not one to interrupt others mid-speech. However, the woman in question just couldn’t allow herself to entertain Ctimene’s plan for even a second.

Penelope can’t needlessly kill anyone else!

She just can’t…

…

…that time…the infant…

That was the whim of the Gods! She had to do it!

She had no choice…

…

But this time she does! Penelope can choose whether she wants to show ruthlessness or mercy!

And this time, she chooses mercy.

“Circes gear up.” Penelope ordered of her friend. “You and I'll go ahead.”

“You and I'll go ahead!” Circes repeated happily, realizing Penelope wanted to try things her way.

“We should try to find a way no one ends up dead.”

Ctimene, however, just could not allow herself to agree with this plan.

“We don't know what's ahead!” The second-in-command reminded, hoping her sister would give this “plan” some more thought.

Unfortunately for Ctimene, Penelope was as stubborn a woman as a woman could be.

“Give me 'til sunrise,” Penelope pleaded, placing a reassuring hand on Ctimene’s shoulder. “And if we don't return-”

Penelope gestured to the large army of women ready to fight in her name.

“Then six hundred friends will make this whole place burn!”

Beckoning Circes to follow her, Penelope ran toward the rafts attached to the side of the ship’s hull.

“Now full speed ahead!”

Circes and Ctimene glanced at the other, aware that despite their strong bond they both had very different approaches to their views and life and means of self-preservation.

Still, orders were orders.

“Full speed ahead!” The rest of the crew chanted amongst themselves.

With a small shrug, Circes ran to meet her captain from within the small raft.

Ctimene, despite a light shake of her head in what was clear disapproval, went on to command the rest of the women in her captain’s stead.

“Full speed ahead!”

“We're up, we're off, and away we go!” Penelope untied the raft’s bindings, Circes quick to lend a hand.

We're up, we're off, and away we go-

With both women having released the raft from all of its bindings, their weapons on their persons should the worst come to be, they were prepared to sail.

“Full speed ahead!”

Lowering the raft onto the calm black of night’s ocean, Penelope and Circes began to row themselves toward the lone isle.

We're up, we're off, and away we go-

The others watched Penelope and Circes sail to the island, hoping for the best and prepared for the worst.

Despite her previous dispositions, Ctimene watched them with a look of genuine worry. She prayed to the Gods above for her friends’ safe returns, for who knew what they could encounter in this journey.

We're up, we're off, and a-

“Full speed ahead!”

It was not long, practically minutes if one were counting, before Penelope’s and Circes’ raft made contact with the island’s sand.

#epic the musical #the odyssey #swap au #warrior!penelope #penelope of ithaca #ctimene #full speed ahead #canon divergent au #canon rewrite #canon compliant #my fic

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melit0n · 4 months ago

Text

Delicate Is The Flesh - Chapter 2

- Synopsis: On the brink of the bustling new city of Rosholt lies a forgotten palisade of abandoned homes, shops and streets that sit mummified after a chemical outbreak in the 70s, leaving the city uninhabitable.

Over the years however, the place has become a hotspot for urban explorers and crime junkies alike. Whispers of reanimated bodies stalking the dead streets and brutal murders worm their way into your friend's ears and, having nothing to do on your Winter break, you reluctantly agree to go exploring the abandoned city with them.

What could go wrong, right?

- Chapters ->

Prologue

Chapter 1: For Whom the Bell tolls

Chapter 2: Corvus and Krater (you're already here!)

Chapter 3: Belly of the Beast

Chapter 4: Something Forgotten

Chapter 5: Citrus and Cinnamon

Chapter 6: Mumbling Conscious

Chapter 7: Heavy is The Head that Mourns The Past

Chapter 8: Be Not Afraid

- Status: Work In Progress.

- Obsessive! Demon OC/Reader

- Word count (for chp): 7.2k

- Warnings for chp: None.

- Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55444003/chapters/143071153

“Come on then!” Jeanne exclaims, loose rocks clattering down the grassy hill as she makes her descent.

“Wait a second-” Noah grabs onto the collar of her crinkled jacket, using you as an anchor as he holds Jeanne in place, keeping her from slipping. It’s quite a funny scene; Jeanne slipping and grabbing onto Noah’s arm for dear life as he attempts to pull her back up…with very little success.

“Proper Heracles you are.” You giggle out. As much as you find their suffering amusing, you make the decision to help, Helen shaking her head and making a move to follow. Stepping out of the gloom–charcoal and old incense layered thickly on your clothes–you three hoist Jeanne up from the point of no return and back into the tree line.

“Let's-” Noah lets out a puff of air, “-think about this first, yeah?” he begins, looking between the three of you. “We know, for a fact, that the police patrol the borderlines. If we get caught, we’re done for.” He eyes Jeanne, who rolls her own in response. “So-”

“-What you’re forgettin’ about, Bonsey, is how lazy cops are when it comes to shit like this,” Jeanne interrupts. “That article was like, at least six months old.”

“Brilliantly encouraging to know you gave us out-of-date information.” You mumble to yourself, Helen nodding along. The adrenaline pumping through your veins at simply seeing the town was slowly ebbing away, your more rational side, worried about gunpowder and jail time, taking over.

She glances upwards and immediately begins attempting to placate you and Helen. “If anything, they probably have, like, one person on watch sat in his car half asleep.”

You begin another rebuttal, about how that was probably just one of her ‘lucky guesses’, but she beats you to it.

“Plus, I had a chat with a coupla’ people who’ve been here before, and, fun fact, they said that the cops don’t even bother patrollin’ this side because of the hill.” She pats her hands against the ground. “And the thick ass forest.” She nods her head back to the woods. Then, she goes on to talk about how ‘most people get lost’ before they even get here, and that they park their cars on the road outside the woods; a place the police patrol regularly.

Besides her thoughtful and strategic notes on avoiding getting caught, one thing stuck with you; most people got lost before they could even get to this point. You were sure you walked a pin straight route from the car right to here, following an old deer trail right to this point. But, as you look behind you, you see no trail in sight. No dirt road trodden by thousands of animals who will never again return to their burrows, no pine needle ridden route; no nothing.

Just darkness. Darkness and the trees overhead.

You think, no, you know, that it’s just lingering paranoia, but you can’t help but want to move back out into the cool moonlight. Swathe yourself in Her lambent glow and hide away from that of which you cannot see.

You feel more seen draped in shadows than you do surrounded by light.

Jeanne drags you out of your thoughts with a puppy eyed look towards you followed by, “You’ve just gotta trust me on this one, okay, Oiseau?”

Oiseau. It was a–or rather the–nickname she’d called you ever since she was a kid; Bird. Per her own words, it was because you were ‘too afraid to leave the nest, but sky bound nonetheless’. You disliked it at first, but, as you grew older, you began to understand that Jeanne could see right through you, right down to your thrumming veins and ebbing viscera. Too bad you couldn’t do the same for her.

She also knew using nicknames could ease your head on almost anything.

With a small sigh, you let your shoulders fall and nod.

“We ready, then?” Jeanne looks between the three of you and raises a questioning eyebrow. With hair still tussled from her previous escapade, it disappears behind her slightly wavy, dirty blonde locks.

You snort at the mental image of Jeanne without eyebrows, something you’re sure she’d do given enough encouragement. “Yeah.”

“The fuck you laughin’ at, huh?” She says, a toothy smile on her face.

“Nothing for you to worry about.” You grab Jeanne by the hand, helping her up from her still seated position, as you all walk over to the edge of the hill, and begin your downhill trek. For once, you’re happy that Jeanne let you keep these hiking boots. Even if the toe tip is scuffed and gradually fading to dust, they keep you steady as ever on the decline, even if a few old rabbit burrows attempt to trip you up.

“Remind you of anythin’?” Speaking of the Devil, she appears beside you, keeping two arms out for stability.

You frown, “What, Hell Hill?” She loses her balance for a second, almost trips and grabs onto one of your arms to regain it.

“Since when did you give it such a dumb-ass nickname?” She snorts, bitten down fingernails with chipping nail polish digging into your arm; she always had an iron grip, seemingly never knowing the proper time to execute it. You remember doing rock-climbing with her in primary school, and you found out quickly that she’d hold on to your hand harder than she would the anchors; you’d never been more glad for safety ropes in your life.

You huff loudly, “Since I fell down it twice and got thousands of brambles stuck on me. Still have the scars from all the brambles-”

“-the scars from all the brambles. I know.” Talking in tandem, she glances over her shoulder with a glint in her eye.

“Oh shut up.” You giggle. Feeling petty, you pretend to lose your own balance, and almost send her tumbling down the hill as well.

“You ass!” She pushes you right back, not caring how her voice somehow manages to get louder. Somehow manages to make the trees creak with annoyance above you. Looking back, they truly do tower over the four of you now; great shadows clawing at your heels and boughs groaning in the wind. Jeanne’s giggles are louder, though, taking your mind off of what looms over you. If only for a moment, at least.

With much tumult, something you probably could’ve avoided if you walked with Helen over the embodiment of pure energy known as Jeanne next to you, you finally reach the bottom of the somewhat steep hill. It wasn’t as hard as you thought it’d be, but you dreaded the climb back up. Still, easily, through the quiet, you can hear Noah huffing and puffing as if he just climbed Mount Everest.

Jeanne laughs, and knocks his back hard, taking even more air out of him. “Come on Noah, wasn’t that hard.”

“Says the person who’s got a set of properly working lungs.” He huffs with a smile, pulling his inhaler out of his back pocket. His asthma has gotten worse over the years, worsened by city smog and the few allergies he had. Jeanne poked fun at it often, but always kept a spare inhaler for him and, like the rest of you, sat with him through any asthma attacks he had. She whispers something to him. Something that brings a small smile to his face after he’s taken a few inhales. Something small, probably, and something you’ll most likely never know. In all her abrasiveness, she tends to have a way with things like that, at least when she isn’t pretending the issue at hand doesn’t exist.

Which is most of the time.

Turning away from the two, your eyes are now graced with the full wonder–or rather gloom–of the shell of a town. You stand at the brink of a small suburb, homes and shops left to waste away. Further in, further to the thumping heart of the town, apartments and high-rise buildings tower above. In the darkness, they’re like obsidian obelisks that rise from the dry ground, tearing at the night sky like astronomers of an age far gone. The wind whistles through each corpse, each dried lung, allowing what once was to howl and scream in the quiet of the night from the backs of their throats, fused by chemicals and memories.

They look more like enormous tombstones–carving the land and marking the death of so many–rather than dwellings of people you’ll never know. Rather than a place of memories, old and new, you look, and will soon stand upon, what is more of a graveyard than a home. You guess that two are similar, in some ways.

However, despite your own ideas and the thought of how many bodies have been buried under this concrete, your friends stare at the place with awe. You can’t really blame them. You yourself could feel another pump of adrenaline slowly making its way through you, and who were you to dampen the mood with your morbid thoughts? You already brought Noah’s spirit down, and that was with just talking about trees of all things, so you don’t bother to voice your unease.

The crinkled, blue and white police tape flaps in the wind.

Jeanne takes you by the shoulders, suddenly, and shakes you, excited jitters finally getting to her. “Are you fuckin’ seein’ this Y/N??”

You nod and giggle, shaking her back and grinning with all your might in hopes that it’ll hide the hesitancy returning to your eyes.

Eventually, she releases you, eyes still glued to the town, before she takes a glance left and right. Noah does the same, Helen following, then you. As you thought before; absolutely barren.

The next time you look over to Jeanne, however, she’s disappeared from your sight, and already on the other side of the tape. Jerking her head to follow, she clicks on her flashlight, and lets light flood the town of shadows. Ever the sheep, afraid of being without your herd in the endless night, you follow with ease.

“This place is mad…” Jeanne yet again mumbles out with venerance, letting her flashlight grace over the dead, or, rather, sleeping buildings.

“Mhm,” Helen responds, “So many homes, abandoned and left to rot just like that.” Even in all your fear, even with the story behind why this place is how it is, you’d easily admit how–for lack of better words–fucking cool this place was. It was like walking into those dystopian books your English teacher always set for home reading.

Having lived in suburbs most of your life, Noah and Jeanne included, seeing what was almost a mirror of one of your many childhood neighbourhoods was…eerie, to say the least. You can almost hear the sound of kids giggling as they chase each other down the road, the smell of somebody’s Summer BBQ, a distant radio playing some 80s song which you’d somehow be able to recite word for word. The daydream brings a smile to your face, but it’s ruined the moment your eyes adjust better to the dark: glass diamonds reflecting your flashlight’s light, littering overgrown lawns, bikes slowly being dragged under the soil by weeds and faded plastic toys staring into you with their beady, faded painted eyes.

Helen shifts closer to you and weaves her arm with yours. You appreciate the distraction.

Watching videos and looking at photos of abandoned places, especially places where the owners just got up and left, doesn’t compare in the slightest to actually being there. It’s like dreaming about an old memory where something isn’t right, but you just can’t put your finger on it. Makes it all the more creepy only being able to see what your beam of light allows.

Jeanne glances towards you and Helen, a snide smile appearing on her face. “Looks like someone’s getting a case of the heebie-jeebies!”

“Am not!” You call back, Helen’s shoulders shaking lightly in laughter.

“Are too! I can see the goosebumps and the way your hands shake from here.” She states, matter-of-factly.

“Even if I was, at least Helen isn’t making fun of me for it.” You joke back, holding your chin high, only to earn Jeanne shaking her head back and forth as a response.

While you hadn’t known her the longest, especially compared to Jeanne, you would easily consider Helen one of your best friends. She was almost regal and spoke in prose without even meaning to.

Unlike Noah, who Helen herself took in later down the line, you met Helen while simply waiting for the bus home. She’d recognised you from one of your classes–which you apparently shared–and began talking to you. You were sceptical at first, and already had your social battery drained by Jeanne each day, but within the half-hour bus trip home, you two clicked; the rest was history.

She always made sure you were comfortable and gave off an undeniably calming aura that kept you grounded when you needed it. Technically, it was the bare minimum, but having a very limited friendship group your whole life, you didn’t really care. Either way, you had to admit that she truly did live up to her name: moulded with all the grace of marble and eyes that you were sure you could go to war for if asked.

Plus, she was a brilliant cook, and who were you to say no to her Baklava?

After a while of walking through the preternatural suburbs, Noah asks, “So…what buildings do you guys want to check out first?”

“How much time do we have here?” Helen responds, tilting her head slightly.

“‘Bout six or so hours, but we could go longer.” Jeanne cuts in, flipping her flashlight around in her hand. “Just depends on how much you want to explore, and when we’re all free next. I don’t think we could explore this whole place in one night anyways.”

As much as you all wanted to look at every inch of the town, you knew that it wouldn’t be possible with your time limit, let alone the fact that this was an entire town you were talking about, and not a small one either. Plus, as far as you knew, none of you had a map, so you didn’t even know where anything actu-

“Check it.” The bright light of Jeanne’s phone paints her face pale and ghastly at first glance. Looking over her shoulder, you spot that she does, in fact, have a map, albeit grainy and pixelated. If you squint, you think you could count each pixel with ease. She begins pointing out the general area that you're in, and then listing different so-called ‘famous’ locations for you to visit.

First, there’s a shopping centre, void of time and most likely frozen in the 70s. Although you'd imagine that place would have been heavily looted; people taking ‘souvenirs’ until all that was left was barren clothes hangers and dust ridden shelves. They could have fun with their chemical infested merchandise all they wanted; you wouldn’t be touching a thing in there. Jeanne should’ve brought gloves for you all instead of the tiny pocket knives…

Second is an old primary school, which both you and Helen immediately say no to. Abandoned houses are one thing, abandoned schools are a whole other thing. Places like that keep memories soaked into the walls, and, you have to admit, children’s drawings always look demonic in the dark. There probably wouldn’t be anything interesting in there anyways, just a bunch of dust and forgotten childhoods.

Third is the town’s old hospital, complete with an extensive psychiatric ward and paired with a small tuberculosis sanatorium. It’s another small reminder of how old this place is, well, old enough for most of its inhabitants to live with the fear of the disease for a few years. You haven’t been to many hospitals, let alone a sanatorium, since most are privately owned and very expensive to visit legally, so it catches all of your eyes.

Finally, Jeanne notes the chemical plant; the heart of the town that left everybody’s bodies and minds to rot. Even a mention of it sends an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. A quick flash of lidless eyes is enough for you to voice your discomfort, and you’re immediately put at ease when everyone agrees.

Jeanne pauses, having you believe that those are all the big locations.

“Right then,” you look up from the tiny screen, “hospital it is? How far is it?” You all look questioningly towards Jeanne.

“Hold your horses,” she laughs. “I’ve got one more.”

You all lean back into Jeanne’s too bright phone to try to spot whatever she’s pointing to. It’s nearer to the centre of the town, more low-rise and mid-rise buildings appearing…but, all you can really see is a couple pixels of gloomy grey.

“These,” she pinches the screen and zooms in further as if in hopes that it’ll make the image clearer, “are the infamous block A and B apartments.”

Helen nods, then questions, “Why, exactly, are they infamous?” and glancing towards Jeanne to catch her eye.

Jeanne smiles one of her devious smiles, half smirk and half grin. “Well…”

“Here we go…” Noah mumbles, earning a half hearted glare from Jeanne.

“They’re mainly known to other explorers, and the internet, because they’re one of the few buildings that are pretty safe, structurally at least. Most people tend to leave all the shit there because it’s way closer to the old chemical plant than the other sites, so it’s pretty much exactly as it was in the 80s. However, they’re infamous because anybody who enters always sees some weird ass shit in there.”

“‘Weird ass shit’ as in drug deals, or ‘weird ass shit’ as in corpses?” You raise an eyebrow. While it was nice to know you wouldn't have a ceiling collapse on you, you don’t think you could mentally brace yourself for the sight of a human corpse. Ever. You could harbour all the disgusting and horrifying memories you wanted, but nothing would haunt you more than the hollow eyes and the uncanny stiffness.

“Weird ass shit as in ghosts.”

Now that, that catches your attention.

Noah huffs loudly, vocalising his disinterest with the topic and rolling his eyes so hard you think he’s been possessed for a second. All the same, you and Helen lean in further. Helen hadn’t ever, and never will be, one for horror. She could put on a strong facade all she liked, but sometimes slashers in masks were enough to scare her. Although, you think she’s more afraid of the things she can’t see–let alone understand–rather than the characters themselves. She’s right to be so, she and more than half of the planet’s population.

“I’m talkin’ full body apparitions. Hearing people talkin’ that ain’t there, seeing things move right in front of their eyes-”

“-Do I need to remind you all that this town was evacuated because of a chemical outbreak from a chemical plant that is near the apartments that caused hallucinations?” Noah pauses, looking between the three of you incredulously before continuing. “If people truly saw a ghost, it’s either leftover chemicals causing them to hallucinate, or become paranoid for that matter, or because they’ve been told they’ll see ghosts. It’s like The Baader-Meinhof effect.”

You all look at him with utter confusion.

He sighs loudly–something you’ve become accustomed to in the years you’ve known him–somehow expecting you all to just know what that is off of memory. “It’s a cognitive bias stemming from a phenomenon where something you recently learned seems to appear everywhere, making it feel like it's more common than it actually is. If someone tells you that a house is haunted, then, your senses become heightened and you carefully analyse every little thing with the expectation of ghosts. A creak in a hundred-year-old house’s floorboards becomes a footstep, the whistling of wind through a cracked window becomes a breath in someone’s ear, etcetera.”

There’s a heavy pause as you all process the information.

“Did your mum drop you on your right side when you were a baby? Have some whimsy, Jesus.” Jeanne mumbles.

There it is.

Noah scowls. “It’s not my fault you have the intellectual and cranial capacity of an artichoke.”

“Oh, okay mister ‘I cut my hair with a knife and fork’-”

“-Says you, you-

“-May we not? Please. The longer you two argue, the less time we have.” Yet again, Helen intervenes in what you’re sure would be an absolutely hilarious back and forth between Jeanne and Noah. Even if he parades himself around to be above the ‘childishness’ of Jeanne, he’s most definitely not immune to her insults.

After a disapproving look from Helen, the two of them zip their mouths shut, and you fall into gentle silence. Looking between your friends, you try to determine if they’re finished talking yet so you can get your two cents in, before repeating your earlier statement.

“So…apartments?”

“Apartments.” They all speak in tandem with each other, nodding in agreement like Roman scholars.

Within a few moments, you all determine which direction you have to go, with much debate on what way is West and which is East which has you losing brain cells every statement, and you begin the so-called ‘short, twenty minute walk’.

Being careful not to trip over any debris, you have the underlying feeling it’s going to be much longer than that.

Ahead of you, Jeanne and Noah are mumbling indistinctly to each other, and you watch multiple–failed–attempts at trying to scare each other play out. Quietly, Helen walks next to you, her footsteps somehow silent on the dusty road. As you walk further into the town’s centre, buildings rise up around you like great maze walls, hiding the past in their shadowy alleyways.

“It is weird, isn’t it?” Helen begins, her soft voice like the plucking of harp strings.

“Yeah, this place gives me the creeps.”

“What? Oh- yes- it does, but I’m talking about how it is strange that it is already our final year. I should have made that more clear…” she mumbles the last half to herself, kicking the odd stone from her foot and keeping a keen eye on the two in front of you. Even if Noah was typically smart and sensible, Jeanne had the tendency to bring out a much more brash side of him.

“Oh, yeah.” You had met Helen at the beginning of this part of your education, and, suddenly, you were all nearing the end. Noah described it as happening in the ‘blink of an eye’, but, for you, it was a very languid, tiresome blink that left you burnt out and hating the education system more than you had as a teen.

Plus, as far as you knew, they were all going to different courses at different schools, aside from Jeanne, who insisted you applied to the same school. You haven’t yet built up the courage to tell her you don’t even know if you want to do more higher education anymore. Either way, it’d be…odd to not see their faces every day.

“Where’d all the time go, hm?” You half-joke, not completely sure how to respond.

“My point exactly.” She agrees, and then you both fall into an awkward silence. You roll different thoughts around in your head, different words and conversation starters to help fill the quiet gap, before she beats you to it. Like everyone always seems to do.

She begins with a pleasant laugh, and, even in the dark, you can just imagine the nostalgic smile on her face. “I remember when I first met you and Jeanne. I thought you were both so odd.”

“What? Why?” You laugh out, utterly surprised. While you had technically met and became friends with Helen on the day of the fateful bus ride, she only met Jeanne about two weeks into knowing you. Half because you and Jeanne were stuck to each other's hip, and half because you had mentioned her off handedly to Jeanne and she became determined to meet and talk with the person who managed to befriend her ‘introverted homebody’. Even if she gave you those titles from a place of off-handed care, you never really liked them. Even if they were true.

Still, in all her grace and sensibility, you never would have thought her first impression of the two of you would be ‘odd’, of all things, especially since she was the one to start talking to you.

“Not in a bad way! Not in a bad way; I promise!” She repeats, laughing again. “It’s just…Jeanne was, well, is, an impulsive adrenaline junkie who would rather climb a cliff than study. Admittedly, not someone who I’d ever thought I’d be good, close friends with.” As she speaks, she glances over to you, careful to earn your acceptance with her descriptions of your oldest friend as if you’d fight her or something if she overstepped. You just laugh and shake your head; she’s right, as per usual.

“And you…” she trails off, letting a thought simmer on the tip of her tongue before she speaks it.

“And you…what? Are we insulting each other now?” You laugh out. You had to admit, her descriptions of her first impressions of Jeanne were dead on, as funny as it was.

“You’re…you. Tired-eyed, reserved Y/N who is…much smarter and complex than they look.”

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.” You grin, looping your arm with hers as she did before.

“Well, since it is coming from me, it is a compliment. I’d never insult you.”

You snort, “Oh, Queen Helen of Sparta, daughter of Zeus-” She begins laughing, telling you to stop through her pearly whites as her skin changes to a deep shade of rose. “-With thy beauty matching none!” You unloop your hands and skip in front of her, curtsying and bowing deeply. “How graceful of you to gift praise to my humble vessel of a body with such praise.”

Helen’s loud laughter bounces off of the decrepit buildings, causing Noah to turn around and send a blinding beam of light your way. You watch as your bowed form casts an elongated shadow across the concrete, reaching for the suburbs now merely incongruous shapes in the stygian distance.

You hope you look holy, bathed in all this light.

“What are you two laughing about?” Noah calls out, walking backwards.

With a smile, you recite a part of your conversation to him. He shakes his head back and forth, then slows his gait until he walks with you two, Jeanne eventually following along after realising she’d lost her walking buddy. Aimless conversation fills the cool air and you can’t help the way your body relaxes.

The talk begins on the topic of pets and Noah starts with how his snakes–affectionately named Ekans and Arbok–at home are doing, mainly how big one of them has grown. If you remembered correctly, one was a Hognose, an absolutely adorable thing with the cutest face on a snake you’ve ever seen, and the other was some fancily titled ball python.

Helen notes on her cat, Αστέρι, of which you could never pronounce properly no matter how many times you’d heard it. It was a stoic white and grey thing that kept itself well groomed and, no matter how hard you tried, seemed to hate you.

Jeanne doesn’t own any, unfortunately due to her land-lord's policies, but it sends her down a rant of how shitty the said landlord is and, if and when she moves again, she’ll get something like a Husky.

Then, after Jeanne has finished her aforementioned rant, the conversation shifts to places you all want to visit outside of urban exploring, and you find Jeanne is planning a gap year to go travelling. By the glint in her eye, you can tell she’ll ask later on if you’ll want to come along, which you’ll probably think about for a week or so before saying yes.

You think you’d follow her until you were both nothing but dust, if you were honest.

Eventually, someone brings up the topics of bands, and sends Jeanne down another tangent, which you all listen to intently, storing the information away for future birthdays and Christmases and conversations.

The three of them are chatterboxes, so they easily allow you to zone out and just simply listen–if you chose to–instead of keeping up with every word.

With full admittance, you felt much more at ease than you did back up on that hill. Even so, with a flashlight, each shadow moves as if living. Everything always looks much more haunted in the low light. It doesn’t help that each building feels…alive. Alive and hungry, albeit bleary. You can’t help but wonder if you look palatable. Appetising, even.

“Hey,” Noah gently nudges your side, “look up.” You’re confused at first, sending him a questioning glance, before you follow his gaze and look upwards. From high above, thousands of silver eyes stare down on your forms. Like a great snake of a time far past, a faraway galaxy ebbs and flows across the charcoal sky. Sparks of blue, almost like lapis lazuli, glimmer within the silver, framed by the ever-changing colours of a humming nebula.

…you’ve never seen something so bright in your life.

“Well, would you look at that.” Jeanne mumbles, eyes stuck on the extraterrestrial gold that glitters above.

You’re in utter awe of what you’re seeing; living near big cities meant that the sky barely got dark when you were younger, let alone to this point. Still, in all your wonder, you can’t help but catch the frown on Noah’s face. You wait patiently for him to voice his thoughts, but he simply stares and stays silent as a tomb. Rolling the thought around in your head, you open your mouth to ask what exactly has him looking so confused in the face of something so beautiful, but Jeanne seems to beat you to it. As per usual.

“Hey, Helen,” you swear you haven’t heard her voice so soft for, well, years. You guess even she feels a bit humbled by the endlessness that stares back at her. “You’re big on stars and astronomy and shit, right? Spot anything you know?”

Helen tilts her head back and forth, before obviously seeing something recognisable in the endless cluster of stars. “Yes, um…see the large gathering of stars to the right- follow my finger.”

“There’s a lotta’ clumps of stars…” Jeanne mumbles, but diligently follows Helen’s hand, as do you and Noah.

“Those are the Antennae Galaxies. Do you see them?”

“Where?” Jeanne squints at the sky.

“To the right, Jeanne.” You grumble, placing your hand on her head and turning her.

“I still don’t- I see it!” She shouts happily, earning a smile from all three of you.

Helen chuckles before speaking again, smiling to herself as she does so. “They look like a heart on a telescope…”

“They’re a pair of colliding galaxies, right?” Noah questions, earning a nod from Helen. Because of course he knows about stars too.

“Yes! It causes a lot of new stars to form around that area…okay, now, look slightly to the left, there is a trapezium type shape of pale blue stars with a, um…a leg?”

“Mhm.” You agree, squinting but being able to spot the small shape in the sky.

“Good, and to the right of it is a similar shape, but with two antennas of sorts?” She looks between the three of you, watching for your reactions and smiling again when you all nod almost in tandem. “The one on the left is called Corvus, and the one on the right is called Krater. The line of stars that runs underneath them is called Hydra.”

“Wicked.” Jeanne whispers, and you have to admit, you don’t think you’ve ever seen her this entranced. “They got a story?”

“Everything that has and will be has a story.” Helen begins, slipping her arm back into yours yet again. “There are two stories to tell here. The first one consists of Apollo, the Greek God of poetry, music and archery. He had a lover named Coronis, who was to bear one of his children. While she was still pregnant, she slept with a mortal man. Apollo was told this by a white crow, and then turned its feathers black in a fit of rage. Subsequently, she was then killed by Apollo–or his sister, Artemis–as punishment. To remind her of her betrayal, Apollo then turned her soul into the constellation Corvus.”

“That’s one way to punish cheaters, I guess.” Jeanne frowns, eyes still fixed on the stars.

“What’s the other story?” You ask, taking your eyes off of the sky for a second to look at Helen.

“It is a lot less angsty,” she giggles. "Per his request, Apollo tasked one of his crows with fetching water. However, the crow stopped to wait for figs to ripen on a tree. Instead of telling the truth when asked, he lied and said that a snake–Hydra–” She points to the string of stars beneath the two constellations, “kept him from the water. Realising the lie, Apollo flung the crow, Corvus, the cup, Krater,” She moves her hand to point at the second constellation, “and the snake, Hydra, into the sky.”

“Apollo sounds like a fuckin’ asshat.” Jeanne scowls, tearing her eyes away from the sky and back towards Helen.

Immediately, she snorts, covering her mouth with her soft hand. “Yes, but so are most of the Gods. I think, when you have all that time and no fear of the end, you tend to take more pleasure in tragedies and horrors that will teach respect rather than kindness and sweet nothings.”

“Okay, so they’re all asshats, then?” You add on with a smile.

Helen simply laughs and shakes her head, Noah mumbling something about immortality that you can’t quite catch.

You all begin walking again, but you stop when you notice Helen still transfixed with the stars.

Walking back to her, you ask, “You okay?” Standing at her side and glancing up again at the sky, trying to see whatever has caught her eye.

“Quite,” she mumbles, eyes still searching the stars like a prophet searching for a sign. “I am just a little confused. I’m sure it’s just my bad memory, but Virgo and Leo, the constellations above Corvus, have swapped places. And, to the far left,” she points, and you do your best to follow, “I think that is Orion? But it just looks…off. Orion is not even meant to be anywhere near the others.”

“Give me a second…” you mumble, shimmying your phone out of your pocket. You were no star expert, so you couldn’t really give any helpful opinions. Tapping on Oogle, you begin to type up the constellations she mentioned with her peering over your shoulder. But, alas… “No service, shit.” Grumbling, you shove your phone back into your pocket and stare back up at the sky with her.

“I’m sure it’s just my bad memory.” She shrugs, and drags her eyes back down to Earth with one last glance. “I’ve never even seen them so bright, especially since we’re still quite close to a big city.” You think she mumbles the statement to herself, but you hear it loud and clear, and think you’ve got an idea of what Noah’s frown was for.

Almost in response, as Helen turns her gaze and begins catching up with the others, you swear you see the thousands of eyes above you blink in tandem, the night sky becoming Cimmerian–utterly pitch black–for a split second.

“Y/N! Hurry up!” Noah calls you, tearing you out of your star gazing.

“Coming.” You whisper, barely a breath and no louder than a blink.

The pit in your stomach is back.

Eventually, you reach the decaying innards of the town. Despite the lack of skyscrapers–buildings that might as well touch Heaven–each building still towers over your small forms. You twist and turn through broken streets and alleyways, Jeanne your only wayward guide.

As you thought, the so-called ‘twenty-minute walk’ turned into a forty minute one, with Jeanne getting lost twice–even with her rebukes that she swears the roads are changing under her feet–Noah tripping over an old bottle and falling flat on his face and both you and Helen almost undergoing multiple heart attacks with Jeanne jumping out from the dark to scare you both.

Admittedly, you weren’t immune from the fun. At all. You got a good laugh out of scaring Noah shitless after jumping on his back; the bruised pelvis and numb upper arm where he punched you were well worth it.

As you wandered through the streets, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes glued to the sky, keeping diligent watch on the silver and gold stars that felt less like balls of gas and more like omnipresent, ever changing eyes. And, now, as you stand in front of the apartments, you can almost feel the little confidence you had seep out of you and puddle on the concrete below like mercury. They look like ancient monoliths, grey and cracked and dystopian. Seemingly never ending layers of stubborn concrete left to crumble and crack like a father’s name; eclipsed by the son. From where you stand, they just manage to block out the little light of the new moon, leaving only the pewter stars to watch over you. They’re surrounded by what you’re sure was once a lovely community garden, now a mess of tall grasses, nettles and indistinct weeds that hide any path that might’ve once been there.

No matter how many abandoned buildings you explore, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing places that should be so full of life absolutely devoid of it. There’s always a small square of harsh light in every apartment building, always someone cramming, getting a late-night snack, or trying to stop the baby from crying. Always. Seeing a place so similar to where you live, even if the only real similarity is that they’re a pair of apartment buildings, sends an odd feeling crawling up your back.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

The quickened heartbeat under your feet does nothing to help the pit in your stomach, crawling slowly up your trachea and settling heavily in the back of your throat.

You’re brought out of your stupor with the heavy weight of somebody colliding onto your back and clinging to you like a koala. Easily, it knocks the air out of your lungs, and sends an out of breath shout tumbling out of your throat, as well as your flashlight out of your hands.

Helen and Noah quickly turn around, surprise and a speck of fear in their eyes, sending blinding flashes of light your way as you try to uphold the weight–of who you guess is Jeanne by the maniacal laughter–on your back.

“Ha! Got you good, didn’t I?” She leans over your shoulder, still attached to your back, and sends a proud grin your way. You grumble, annoyed, before attempting to put her down, only for her to wrap her legs tighter around you.

“Are you really gonna make me carry you?” You ask, exasperated.

“You bet.” As Noah walks up to grab your flashlight, she points forwards with her own and exclaims, “Onwards, mighty steed! There’s a back entrance on the furthest part of the left building that’ll be unlocked!”

“You sure?” You hoist her up further as you all begin walking, allowing her to hook her legs over your arms as you feel your back muscles ache with the sudden weight. “Considering you’ve gotten us lost so many times…”

Jeanne simply scoffs and points her flashlight in the direction you need to go. Your group stumbles through overgrown weeds as you pass by the cracking concrete walls, void of any vines, unlike the rest of the buildings you’ve passed. The apartment blocks are designed in a right angle, gazing down at an overgrown garden with, by the faded white paint, you guess to be a parking lot behind it, which then links up onto a main road. The grounds are bordered off by decrepit buildings, mainly old corner shops with the occasional homewares.

After you’re sure you’ve been stung by stinging nettles on half of your body, you reach the other end of the leftmost apartment block. A rusted, possibly iron door stands before you. Locked and layered in thick chains that look like they could hold a God down. Unlocked your ass, this looked like you’d need the world’s most powerful pair of bolt cutters–maybe even a saw for that matter–to get through.

But, suspecting Jeanne may want to get down, you decide to take the chance to make it evens with scaring her. Without warning, you pretend to almost drop her, relishing in the surprised shriek and angry grumbles of “Putain de- oh, toi petite merde-” that leaves her as she grapples for any part of you to hold on to. She laughs sardonically, more like an annoyed chuckle, before you let her down and she wags a finger at you “Good one, good one…so gonna get you back for that…” She mumbles the last half to herself, but you catch it easily.

She approaches the heavily locked door, and Noah begins voicing your exact thoughts with, “Unlocked door my a-” before she tugs gently at the heavy chains, which fall to the ground with a metallic thump.

Ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump

You can’t tell if that’s your own heartbeat thrumming in your ears or not.

She sends Noah a shit-eating grin as he shakes his head and forth, and you find Helen at your side once again. She then grabs the chains, an easy weight to lift for her toned arms, and, with a rattle, chucks them in a nearby bush.

“You ready?” She glances between the three of you, awaiting a response as Noah stumbles through the overgrown grass over to the door.

“As I’ll ever be.” You shrug, Helen nodding along with you.

Even with the knowledge of many explorers having been here before, the opening of the door feels like the opening of some ancient tomb, especially with the scent of stale air and thick dust that greets your nose. Little vines that had wrapped themselves delicately around the hinges are tugged away as the door opens its gaping maw. Jeanne and Noah peek over from the edges of it as Helen’s torch light illuminates a dank, monochrome hall.

“Looks right out of a horror film.” You mumble, eyes attempting to adjust to the darkness as shadowy figures peek at you and your light from their dusty home. You almost expect a masked slasher to jump out of you, or some long dead spectre wrapped in the weight of their living sins, but nothing comes. The hall simply sits eerily quiet, almost like it’s holding its breath.

Jeanne walks in first, not a single bone in her filled with any hesitation, who’s then followed by Noah and Helen, who tugs you along with her. Despite the way your feet feel frozen to the cracked concrete below, you let her tug you along, and let the dark swallow you whole.

-----------

I wonder if those same Gods, timeless and easily bored, watch over you now.

I’d also like to remind my new readers that I have a very big soft spot for extended metaphors and symbolism; look close enough and you might find something interesting.

Plus, I made a little playlist for this, for anybody who likes listening to music while they read: open.spotify.com/playlist/1rw21OGGHndcHrNEPfdvv5?si=31a14ddea2b84d4f

Putain de- oh, toi petite merde = Fucking- oh, you little shit-

Αστέρι = Star

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sorryseraphim · 10 months ago

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“Enver?”

“Yes?”

He kissed her hands, caressing them afterward as he felt Helene’s body cool, her breathing returning to its normal rhythm. Laying down the sheets after their bodies experienced a symphony of passion, their moans and gasps served music just a little earlier had died down to sighs of relief and pure bliss.

“Have you explored the entirety of Rivington as a kid?” Helene asked him, staring at the ceiling. Breathing deeply, Enver pondered for a bit. He never really explored the entire city when he was a child, nor even now that he has become a Lord; he never really had the time, and walking down the busy streets only brought back bitter memories of the family he had long forgotten after doing him wrong.

“Not really. Given the nature of your work, I know you have been there a lot more than me.” He replied, trying to jest. He expected her to respond with her usual humor, but she replied with a tender voice, almost childlike.

”Did you know there’s a beach down the city? There’s an actual beach, not just a view of the ocean. Sands and all.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking at her. There are always surprises each time they lay together as if Helene is giving him new sets of keys each time, unlocking a piece of her she had kept hidden for so long. “A beach in the city? How did you stumble upon that beach?” He asked her.

“I was trailing someone once, you know, the usual. And I… saw it. I was in awe as the waves roared. They come and go violently. I had to stop for a while and sit.”

It’s moments like this that made him somehow calm. These are peaceful moments where the two of them are alone together, in the stillness of his chamber, without the world watching them, without the tension of their rivalry. Without the need for power to weigh on them. That was the beauty of it: just them and their pure, unadulterated self, knowing each other bit by bit.

“And? What of the beach?”

“I go there now every so often, I am in Rivington. To relax, to sit idly. Sometimes minutes, sometimes an hour.”

“My dear, I think there are hundreds of other places which are far better to find peace if that’s what you’re after with the beach. I cannot believe you’re choosing a cold, dirty ocean filled with trash and fish.”

She sat up and looked at him, giggling. “It’s not dirty! And it does bring me peace.” She leaned forward to him, resting her chin on his chest, looking up at him, their eyes meeting. He laughed softly at her reason, a teasing smirk forming.

“Are you sure you’re not hiding anything from me? I can’t imagine why you’d want to go to that filthy place when you’ve got me here in bed.”

Her giggling turns to laughter, a delicate melody escaping her lips, her eyes closing softly. “I’m not hiding anything from you, you know that. It’s just a place to relax. For myself. You can come with me; it might change your mind.”

“How about I convince you that the pleasure I give here, in my bed, is much better than whatever your filthy ocean can give you?”

She glanced away briefly, smiling as she faced him again. “I’m telling you this because I thought you might like the beach! Now you’re just teasing me.” It was now his turn to laugh softly, finally hitting a nerve, as he humored her further. He sat up, brushing the hair off her face. She looked radiant in the afterglow, her divinity showing as she sat before him with only the blankets covering her body. If they could always stay like this, it would be more than a miracle, more than a gift from the Gods he could never repay.

“Yes, I am. I just can’t believe something filthy like an ocean gets to have moments with you that I do not know.”

“Enver!”

“I will stop. I will. The ocean can have you sit by yourself, seeking its solitude. You can watch its waves as it crashes the shore, but you, my dear, are my ocean. How I look at you brings me immeasurable peace just by seeing how beautiful and soft your skin is to my touch. No ocean can compare to you.”

She smiled at him, biting her lip as she leaned forward, her lips meeting his: a tender union.

“Even when you said I’m sometimes too much to handle?”

“Helene, you are too much to handle all the time.” He replied with a grin, his hand slowly caressing her chin. She laughed again as she looked at his eyes, drinking him in like she would be deprived any day of his warmth.

“And you still want me, desired me even.”

“Always, every minute of every day.”

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 oc #durge spoilers #bg3 durge #gortash x durge #durgetash #durge #the dark urge #lord enver gortash #enver flymm #enver gortash #bg3 #dark urge x gortash #lord gortash

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bethanydelleman · 7 months ago

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I was thinking about your Edmund vs. Frank poll and it made me revisit Frank's arc. I'll go straight to it - this guy exhibits massive red flag behavior at times.

The worst of it was the box hill episode. The day before, Jane had refused to walk with him (for very reasonable reasons though I'm sure she was also acting more out of frustration at Frank than any actual caution there). He outrageously flirts with Emma the next day in Jane's full view knowing she dislikes it. It's obvious he's doing it for revenge - to hurt Jane or get a reaction out of her. He brings up marriage completely out of the blue, brings up their engagement and makes a veiled threat to break up with her, and - this is what I can never forgive him for - he makes the comment about women in their "own set" which I'm sure is a dig at Jane's family's poverty. (please correct me if I'm wrong). And when Jane says something along the lines of "maybe we should break up" he loses it again and makes a dig at Jane's appearance and personality this time - asking Emma to find him a wife who is "lively, with hazle eyes", the opposite of Jane basically. And he wanted JANE to apologize to him after that.

Now the whole thing is very delightful to read as a reader. We can very easily see through Frank and his actions as those of a spoiled brat who has never been denied anything in life; with very little emotional regulation or control over his reactions. But imagine how horrible the whole thing must be from Jane's perspective - to be insulted like that by someone you love and plan to marry.

Frank's greatest redeeming quality is that he loves Jane. He really does love her, there is no denying that. But you can still be horrible to people you love. I also keep thinking about Andy's comment that Frank subconsciously resents Jane for the power she has over him, which makes him act out on her - the premise of the concealment allows him to hurt her, slander her character, criticize her personality and appearance all under the cloak of hiding the engagement. The ABC game is the greatest example - he already believed that Emma knew about the engagement by then, so there was no point to it except to harass Jane with a tasteless joke at her expense that he knew she didn't find funny.

The thing is I can totally see Box hill and ABC game becoming a pattern in their marriage later on. Whenever Jane doesn't do something that Frank wants her to, I can totally see Frank going unhinged, make veiled barbs at her in company accusing her of having married him for money and making digs at her for coming from a poor family; or express regret at having married too fast and young; or even making slight fun of her with their other guests like he had done with Emma. Later he is going to apologize profusely, love bomb her and buy her lavish gifts. But that doesn't change the fact that this is abusive behavior. You may say I'm overthinking it but consider - all of the future behaviours I noted is based on things he has already said or done canonically in the book.

One of your anons said that Frank had the potential to become Arthur Huntington in the future and unfortunately I can see that. Though I agree with you that Arthur had never loved Helen and Frank does love Jane, but you can still be abusive to people you love. I think of all Austen heroes Frank has the potential to become abusive in the future - because the abusive traits are already in his personality. Although I'm sure this dark side of his character probably appeals to a lot of Frank Churchill's fans.

I know this turned out to be Frank hate rant but I do like Frank. He is super fun to read on the page, and his love for Jane is endearing inspite of everything. And unlike the actual villains like Wickham and Willoughby, he doesn't have harm in his heart and all the harm done is because of his poor emotional regulation and lack of situational empathy. But my point is that a novel from Jane's perspective would be a lot darker than Emma is, and I doubt we will like Frank as much as we do then.

I don't regret voting Edmund because he annoys the fuck out of me, but I doubt he would ever make digs at Fanny's poverty, or make deliberately hurtful comments at her when he loses his temper, or make fun of her socially.

I know you like Frank so sorry if this comes off as hate, I promise it's not. Just a new perspective on "the worst Frank did was not talk to his father." Jane loves him inspite of everything and I can also see why. I hope she fixes him and they have a very happy married life.

English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes.

Your English looks perfect to me. This question is in response to this question.

I don't know if Frank is as bad as you present him or as Andy thinks (I heartily disagree with him). Frank is a spoiled brat and he doesn't have much emotional regulation, but I think a lot of his acting out at Box Hill and the day before is due to his frustration at the engagement taking so long, not at Jane herself or her situation. He talks about how his aunt has only ever denied him a few times, one being going abroad. I think when Frank entered the engagement, he thought he would win his aunt over and it would be done and he'd be happy. The separation is wearing on him.

I think he has a bit too much fun "keeping" (he is not good at this) his secret but he also does not take the secret as seriously as Jane. He's annoyed with her because he wanted to walk her home and she said no. He's desperate to spend time with her but he can't. I think his problem at Box Hill is he takes Jane's rational secret keeping as a rejection of him (it's not). He thinks Jane's love is wearing out.

I could see them having a very happy marriage now that the moral dilemma facing Jane (secret engagement) is gone and Frank is more free to do as he pleases.

#jane austen #frank churchill #question response

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sashaisready · 1 year ago

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Chapter 4 - The Ghost

Nick Fowler x Reader

Summary: Reader is a brilliant but shy and awkward CIA employee whose work is often overlooked by her colleagues…she’s blended into the background for so long that she doesn’t think there’s any other way - even if she does have secret aspirations for another life. Unbeknownst to her - a certain blue eyed agent is very aware of her talents, even if nobody else is.

Under the Radar Masterlist

<Chapter Three - Now or Never

Warnings: mild angst, reference to violence, references to sex trafficking, reader being sassy Wordcount: 3558

You were back at work the next day with a renewed sense of optimism. Everything was turning around, maybe everything would really be okay.

And no bumping into Nick for at least a few weeks. It meant you could entirely focus on throwing yourself into your new job. No distractions.

As you sat at your desk typing a few handover notes for the other Assistants covering your work, you saw Agent Leigh stumble in and plop himself down in his desk chair. His pathetic pout complimented a nasty looking black eye and bruised nose.

Oof. You couldn’t hold back your wince as you took him in. He caught you staring and met your gaze. You froze, unsure of what people are meant to say in situations like this. He seemed…different. His usual bravado muted. His shoulders slumped. You supposed a shiner would do that to even the biggest ego.

“Uh…Rough night?” You offered gently, hardly believing you felt something resembling sympathy towards him. Or pity at the very least.

He frowned but the effort of moving his face seemed to cause further pain. He grimaced.

“Something like that” he muttered.

It seemed as if his big mouth had finally got him into trouble. You were only surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.

“There’s a few ice packs in the cafeteria freezer” you offered, kinder than you should’ve been. “Might help the swelling. Speak to Helen the catering manager, she should be able to get them for you”.

He nodded. “Yeah…thanks”.

You went back to work thinking that was that, but he spoke again.

“Hey…” he said meekly.

You looked back at him.

“I’m sorry…for what I said yesterday…when Fowler was here…that was really rude. And not appropriate for the workplace at all. I apologise”.

You blinked in confusion. Someone could’ve offered you infinite chances to guess what he was going to say next and you never would’ve picked that.

“Oh….well….thank-you” you replied.

He looked at you pathetically. “So…uh…we cool?”

You nodded. Well…No. But you didn’t really want to drag this out any longer.

“Sure” your smile artificial.

He nodded tentatively. “So…if anyone…like…asks. I apologised, and we’re good now. Right?”

You frowned, somewhat bewildered. “Uh….yeah. Okay. But why would someone ask?”

He shrugged unconvincingly. “Just…you know. If anyone did”.

He started booting up his laptop then and it was clear the discussion was over. Palmer rounded the corner and arrived at your desk. He was smiling, looking good in a navy suit, his hair carefully styled.

“Hey…you all set?”

You smiled enthusiastically, picking up your laptop and notebook as you headed to the conference room with him. You were practically vibrating with excitement to begin.

“Yep! Ready”.

Palmer turned to look at Leigh as you passed by. He let out a low whistle once he was out of earshot.

“Jeez! What happened to him?” Laughed Palmer.

You shrugged. “Beats me. Guess he ran his mouth at the wrong person on boys’ night. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy…”

You paused, cringing, remembering you were at work and realising how abrupt you’d been. It wasn’t like you to say stuff like that.

“Sorry…that was rude” you whispered.

Palmer chuckled. “Not at all…you’re totally right. It was bound to happen sooner or later”.

You smiled back at him, grateful for his reassurance.

“You’re a bit of a dark horse, aren’t you?” He teased.

“No! No…I don’t…I’m not-Oh god. How embarrassing” you groaned, hiding your eyes behind your hand.

Palmer just laughed kindly. “I’m just kidding. Look, Palmer is a jerk. Don’t worry, you’re not gonna offend me by rightly calling it out. Okay?”

“Okay” you nodded with a shy smile.

As the two of you walked, you pondered Leigh’s strange question. What was he talking about exactly? Why was he so concerned with the two of you being ‘cool’? It’s not like he normally gave a shit what you thought of him. Maybe he was visited by three Christmas ghosts late last night…

Your thoughts of Leigh soon dissipated as you and Palmer got to the conference room and started to work.

He ran you through the basics of Project Cotton which was extensive and complex. Essentially, the CIA were trying to infiltrate a worldwide sex trafficking ring which had made its way to the States. There were a lot of moving parts, but it boiled down to sifting through a mixture of reliable and less reliable sources, finding ways into suspected bases and working through the chain of suspects to find out who was at the top. Palmer would be leading the field work as Walsh had assigned, but it was your job to work with him to make sense of the intel, help plan the op and collate everything into a strategy.

The scope was like nothing you’d ever worked on in all your time here. Walsh was really testing you. The FBI were assisting, as were multiple local law enforcement agencies, and you felt the weight of your responsibility to them all heavy on your shoulders. Palmer and the rest of the team were all counting on you - bad intel could expose Palmer as a CIA operative and blow his cover - the likely outcome would be his death if the mark discovered who he really was.

As anxious as you felt (and you were anxious) there was some excitement too. As Palmer ran through the summary you found yourself immediately brainstorming ideas, solutions - this was going to be tough…but you could do it. You knew you could. And you felt encouraged that Walsh thought you could, too. This wasn’t really about Nick. This was about you, and proving to yourself what exactly you were capable of. Proving that you could take a leap out of your comfort zone and succeed. Hell, it wouldn’t be perfect - but it didn’t need to be. It just needed to be enough.

And if you proved Nick wrong somewhere along the way too?

Bonus.

In a way, you should thank him, his cruelty lit a fire under you that you may never have sparked yourself.

The days turned into weeks and you and Palmer had slipped into a comfortable ease with each other. You both worked hard together, but you had clicked as people too. The content you were dealing with day in day out could be hard going, so you balanced that out with joking and a little fun where you could. You didn’t feel nervous around him like you did with your other colleagues. He had a calming presence you appreciated, especially as a newbie to this.

In short? You liked Palmer a lot.

“Call me Joe” he had said at your second meeting.

You felt a twinge of sadness as that was exactly what Nick had said to you on the day you’d been together for the first time. But you swallowed it down.

“Joe” you’d repeated, looking back at him with a smile.

You were making good progress with the research, constantly adding to a seemingly never ending report which covered all of the bases. You were just struggling to pin down the names of those at the top of the ring, a lot of leads were dead ends and pointed to ghosts, men who seemingly didn’t exist. But you told yourself that weeding out every dud lead meant you were one step closer to nailing the real perpetrators.

One of the quirks of the case was that you had boxes and boxes of historic CIA files to sift through, looking at records of convicted criminals from decades earlier who may have had links to previous rings that Cotton may have grown from the ashes of. The files were mostly yellowed pages, thick layers of dust and occasionally indecipherable hand writing when nobody had bothered to type up the reports however many decades ago.

“It’s crazy that the CIA, with all its resources, hasn’t taken the time to digitise these” you huffed, shaking your hand out after getting yet another paper cut from one of the archaic monstrosities.

Joe laughed. He had a sweet laugh. Slightly on the dorky side, but you liked that he laughed loudly and unashamedly - not caring what anyone thought of it.

“The CIA isn’t an endless money pit” he said kindly. Unlike Nick, he was never patronising when he explained things to you.

“The bosses want cash to go on the actual operations, not paying a bunch of temps to scan these old perverts’ files nobody but us has ever looked at”.

“Mmm” you conceded. “But have they considered…it would be helpful for me personally”.

Joe grinned. “No. I don’t think they have…but that’s a very persuasive argument”.

You were both sitting in the conference room Project Cotton had taken over in the last few weeks. Papers and files were sprawled across the table, endless photographs and maps were pinned to the walls as post-its and notes littered every surface.

You yawned, slamming the file shut and pulling the next box out - grabbing the letter opener to split the tape. Joe had given it to you to open the boxes. It was a thing of beauty really, a slim silver knife with a delicate ornate handle. He had unearthed it in an old storage room in the basement, no doubt an essential tool for some clerk four or five decades ago.

It has become a bit of a strange running joke for the two of you. You’d take turns moving the opener to the other’s desk when the other wasn’t looking, and it became a sort of competition to see if you could sneak it into the other’s space without them noticing.

You opened the first file from the new box, taking your time skimming the musty pages. Both of you worked in comfortable silence.

“Anything?” Joe eventually asked as he scribbled on the whiteboard.

You pointed with the blade to the file in front of you.

“Mm. Maybe. Three of these guys were all associated with something called ‘Cosmos’ - seems to be some sort of weird cult which preached peace and love…but also the kidnapping of young women”.

Joe scoffed. “Peace and love indeed…”

You peered down at the grainy mugshot of the man in the file, snarling back at you. He looked oddly familiar…but you couldn’t place him.

You sighed. “I feel like my eyes are gonna cross…”

“Let’s take a break. You need a breather. You work too damn hard” teased Joe.

You rolled your eyes playfully.

“We’ll order lunch. I’m thinking Hong’s” said Joe, grabbing his phone and hurriedly closing your file.

“Ooh. Yay! Okay”.

The novelty of expensed lunches certainly hadn’t worn off yet.

You stole a glance at Joe as he pulled up the food menu and dutifully scrolled through the options. The more time you spent with him, the more you liked him. He was sweet. Earnest. You liked that he said exactly what he meant. He never had you guessing…unlike some people.

As time went on, you began to realise how handsome he was. He had a cute dimple on one side of his mouth. His eyes crinkled a little when he smiled. He was a big guy too….broad. Strong. Sometimes your mind wandered and you wondered what he looked like under his suit…

You liked being with him.

And you liked that he liked being with you. You weren’t an agent like him, yet he treated you like an equal - not just the grunt beneath him doing all the admin. He respected you. Appreciated you.

The other night at dinner Annie had jokingly said she was sick of hearing about him. You hadn’t realised how much you must talk about him.

After lunch had arrived you sat together in the conference room, eating and laughing.

“…I’m sorry, I’m just saying I wanted Tom to win once in a while. Okay? That mouse was pushing it” Joe said incredulously.

You laughed uproariously. “What?? Who sides with Tom??”

“I just mean…Jerry is mocking him…”

“Jerry is a mouse…if Tom catches him then he’s dinner! Nobody roots for Tom, Joe!” You giggled.

You laughed more as you pushed the food around your takeout container.

“I’m working for a madman…”

Joe smiled. “True. But you’re doing a great job”.

“Thanks” you giggled.

“No…I mean it. You’re a beast. The stuff you’re pulling together is so impressive. Especially for a first timer. You should be proud. I sure am”.

You blushed, surprised at his admission. “Well…thank-you Joe. That means a lot. You’ve taught me so much in such a short space of time. I’m…so grateful”.

You both stared at each other for a few seconds. The air felt different suddenly. Charged somehow. Time seemed to slow down as Joe leaned towards you, his gaze dropping to your lips. You found yourself moving in too, leaning closer and closer until-

The jarring sound of Joe’s phone vibrating on the table seemed to break the trance. You both surged backwards in your chairs, looking in opposite directions.

“I better take this…” Joe grumbled, picking up his phone and leaving the room.

You sat in the silence, struggling to grasp what had just happened. You got to your feet, going to the bathroom and splashing a bit of water on your face to calm down. Fuck. You really needed to stop doing this with colleagues…

…but Joe was just so…Joe.

You made your way back to the conference room, sitting back down and picking at your food again as you waited for him to return. You decided you wouldn’t mention it unless he did. Nothing actually happened. No need to make it awkward when you were both working so closely.

You were fishing your chopsticks around the takeout box when you heard him come back in.

“You ate all the wontons…jerk” you joked.

“Not me, princess” came the reply.

You jolted in your seat, a small squeak leaving your lips. You whipped round to face him.

There he was. The ghost. You suddenly felt very nervous.

Nick was leaning against the doorway, his short chestnut hair neatly combed. A hint of 5 o’clock shadow that wasn’t there when he left for his Op. Still handsome. Still infuriating. Those damn eyes watched you carefully as he slipped his hands into his pockets.

“I always left the wontons for you when we ordered in. I would never leave you hanging” he smirked.

“Yeah…The only thing you were ever consistent about” you said dryly.

He laughed hollowly. “So…Project Cotton huh? Going up in the world I see” he surveyed the room, taking in all of the files and documents strewn around.

“Yeah. Walsh put me on it” you replied stoically.

He nodded. “So I hear. Guess I was wrong about that, huh?”

You glared back at him. “You were wrong about a lot of things”.

He smirked. “I probably deserve that”.

You didn’t speak. Just left his words hanging. You wanted him to sit in it. You had no desire to make this any easier for him.

“Not gonna ask how my op went? It’s been weeks”. He asked casually, but his eyes had a slightly needy quality to them.

“Well it was fine I presume. You seem to have all your limbs intact” you deadpanned.

He chuckled. “Just about…”

You ignored him, just taking a bite of your food.

“And how’s Palmer? Being good to you?”

“Absolutely. He’s a good boss”.

“Huh…That surprises me”. He ticked his jaw.

You glared at him. “And why’s that?”

“Just…he seems like one to keep an eye on. That’s all”. He shrugged.

You rolled your eyes. “Why? Because he doesn’t come out on your little boys’ nights?”

He chuckled again. His patronising laugh made you want to punch him in the face.

“No…actually he comes sometimes” he smirked.

You quirked an eyebrow. That surprised you. As Joe had said that time with Leigh…it wasn’t really his scene. Still, you wouldn’t hold it against him. Everyone needs to let loose sometimes.

“Ah, Fowler. Welcome back” said Joe as he came back to the room. His voice suddenly seemed strained. His posture uncomfortable.

Nick nodded, he also seemed somewhat tense. “Thanks Palmer. Looks like you’ve made good progress with Cotton…”

“Yup. Well it’s hard not to when you’ve got this one your team” he smiled over at you.

You smiled back warmly. If Nick’s return had thrown you off balance, Joe was a stabilising anchor who righted you again.

Nick smiled. “Yeah. I know the other agents are whining that the briefing reports aren’t being done to the usual standard now that their best Assistant has been poached”.

You shrugged, embarrassed at how inwardly gleeful you were at Nick’s compliment. “They’ll be fine”.

He looked back at you and you found yourself stuck in his gaze. Unable to look away as old feelings stirred. Shit. No! Be strong!

He cleared his throat abruptly.

“Well…I better go debrief. You two have fun” Nick added sardonically as he left the room.

Joe glared at the empty space where Nick had been standing. You saw a strange expression on his face that you hadn’t seen before. A hint of rage beneath the surface that you’d never seen a glimpse of until now. What sort of issue did those two have with each other? There certainly seemed to be a weird tension between them.

“Anyway. Let’s get back to it” said Joe, back to his usual sunny self as if nothing had happened.

He didn’t say anything about Nick, nor about your near kiss, he just picked up his notebook and resumed where he left off. You followed suit, but your head bubbled with unanswered questions as you pulled out your next file.

At the end of the day you made your way out of the building, exhausted from a full day and fantasising about a bubble bath back at home. Seeing Nick again had knocked you slightly. You knew when he left you’d have to face him again eventually, but he caught you off guard. As always.

As you strolled down the hallway to the building exit you were torn from your thoughts, quite literally, by some unseen force as you were yanked by the waist into an empty office. You let out a small shriek as your assailant spun you around and revealed himself.

“Fuck, Nick!! You trying to give me a heart attack?” You squeaked as you slugged him on the shoulder.

He grinned. “I’ve missed that fire”.

He moved to close the door.

You frowned. “I’m tired, Nick. I’ve had a long day and I want to go home. I don’t have any time for games”.

“I need to talk to you…” he sighed.

You rolled your eyes. “Can it wait?”

He shuffled awkwardly, his cocky tone now diminishing slightly. “I just want you to be careful”.

“What?”

“With Palmer. Be careful. Alright?”

You laughed coldly. “Why? He’s a good guy.”

“Just…you’re smart. Don’t let him take advantage”.

“What does that mean?” You glared.

“Just…I don’t know. Don’t let your guard down. Don’t…I don’t know… let him take the credit for your work or anything like that. Alright? Just be careful with him. I just….I don’t trust him”.

You scoffed. “I don’t know what your beef with Joe is but you have no business butting in. I’m not interested in your masculine pissing contest. He and I have been working really well together all this time. He’s sweet, and smart, and he supports me. He actually wants me to do well and get ahead! Unlike you, he believes in me! It’s really nothing to do with you. So thank-you for your ‘advice’….but it really isn’t necessary”.

Nick frowned, raising an eyebrow. “Joe? Oh God…you like him don’t you?”

You tried to force a laugh, but it didn’t sound very convincing. “What?? No! It’s all very professional…”

Nick shook his head, tutting. “Unbelievable…”

“You can talk…” you spat.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know…Ask Mace?” You narrowed your eyes.

He laughed hollowly at that. “I knew you heard her that day in my office. Not jealous are you, princess?” The shit eating grin was back on his face. He had you now.

You clenched your jaw, trying your best to retain your sense of calm as you felt the heat rush to your cheeks.

“No. You can fuck whoever you like”.

He laughed again. “I’m not fucking Mace…”

“Sure…” you rolled your eyes.

“Believe whatever you want, princess…”

You curled your hands into fists, suddenly feeling overwhelmed as all of those old feelings rose to the surface. How did he still have this hold over you? You thought you were free…

You managed to suppress it as you bit your lip and looked towards the door.

“Can I go now or have you got another lecture for me?”

He shook his head, sighing. “Do what you want. Okay? Just…remember when I said”.

You rolled your eyes. “Tell Mace I said hi”.

You’re stormed out of the room as you shot down the hallway and left the building. Ugh. What a pig!! He could see how well you were doing and was just trying to get in your head to throw you off. He clearly didn’t liked Joe for some sort of weird male ego reason and was making it your problem. He didn’t know what he was talking about…

…right?

Chapter 5 - Done

#nick fowler x you #sebastian stan #nick fowler x reader #nick fowler #the 355 #under the radar fic

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sarcasticsciencefictionwriter · 5 months ago

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Hiya!

Helen for the latest ask thing:))

Hello! Thank you! 🥰

Helen

1.She's emotional

Helen is very often depicted as not having many emotions/disliking them/doing everything she can not to feel. But she feels a great deal, probably more than everyone else, she just feels like she has to hide because so many people depend on her. So she keeps her feelings to herself and feels them so much, but alone. She tries not to share them because she doesn't want to burden the people that depend on her. It makes for some angsty writing, sometimes, but I feel it's true to her character.

2. She makes mistakes

I keep this in mind because the temptation to right Helen as not making mistakes is sometimes kind of high. She does what she thinks is right and what is best for everyone and everything, but that doesn't mean she is. She's just as human as everyone else, even if she's had more time to make mistakes and learn from them.

3. She doesn't need a romantic partner

I love Helen + whoever as much as the next person, but she doesn't need a romantic partner. She might like to have one and it's fun to have her be happy with someone, but that doesn't mean she needs one. She's a great character that can stand on her own, the fact that she's had and will have romantic partners is a coincidence, not a requirement.

4. She can be a bitch

And she's good at it. I'll admit, it's really fun to write Helen that way (especially since so many female characters aren't allowed it!). And she is. And she's not just a bitch because someone was wrong/did something wrong, etc. She can be one over pretty much everything, but most of the time she knows how to check herself so it doesn't spread too far.

5. She collects 'strays'

Helen is always going to take in a misfit, human or abnormal, and if taking them in doesn't suit that person, she will 100% help them make it to a situation that does. They may not even realize that she's seen them and adopted them in a sense (like when she paid for Will's scholarship, I imagine he wasn't the first or the last). But she does.

#truedairship #i'm soooooo sorry this took so long to answer #my brain locked up and was being a bitch #thanks for the ask!#ask answered #helen magnus

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chartreuseian · 7 months ago

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Fanfic Tag Game!

Tagged by the one and only @sarcasticsciencefictionwriter ❤️

1. How many fics do you have on AO3?

Only 22!!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

492,234. Which is a lot of words per fic, yes.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Sanctuary. Though I used to write for others

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Mr & Mrs - 110

Love Don't Die - 46

With Interest - 30 (but I feel this is misleading in that it's been up the longest)

Sturdy (29)

And it's a tie for fifth! Both What Should Have Happened After The Clean Up and When Will Failed the Perception Test have 18.

It is hilarious to me that only one of these is G rated. On is M rated, but otherwise it's explicit all the way 😲

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I try to! The only time I don't is if I've already been chatting to the person about the thing. But otherwise yes. Come be my friend via the comments!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I had one called 'Release' that was all about Helen dying and choosing to go which was pretty angsty. 'She Had Him at Hello' is also gonna have a more angsty ending because canon is angsty when it comes to Helen and Nikola...

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hehe. Most of them? I generally prefer happy endings because life is dark and depressing enough all on its own... I mean I did a whole series where the central premise was giving Helen and Nikola the happy ending the writers weren't willing to offer...

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Honestly, not since joining the Sanctuary fandom. The only really awful, vitrolic hate I recieved was in a different fandom (nothing quite like a gang of middle aged women telling you that you're awful to start off your writing journey!!)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Lol. Yes. Most kinds. I'm new to the kinkier stuff, but provided it is consensual, I'm game.

Most of my stuff is romantic-y though. I like to write the tender stuff, with the occasional rough and tumble threaded throughout.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Haven't done one yet! Though I'm not adverse to it - my brain just doesn't work that way.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I... I don't think so. Is that a thing people do?! Yikes...

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Nope. Again though, not adverse to the idea!

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Helen/Nikola. Hands down. Their dynamic is *chefs kiss*

16. What are your writing strengths?

Description, probably. And build up maybe? I'm pretty good at stretching out the anticipation...

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Fight sequences. I know in theory they're no different to sex scenes, but a lot of the smut I write is about the feeling rather than the action.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I used to do a fair bit of it, but I've found ways around it now so that I don't have to struggle with grammar I'm absolutely going to get wrong. The only exceptions for me are when I want to use a single word (like when Helen meets one of Nikola's sisters and she says 'sestra') where translation is clear, or when a character is trying to hide something from another. But even then I'll normally not use more than a word or two.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Private Practice.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Well, my current favourite is 'Stupid' because it really was my first go at writing some proper kinky stuff and I'm pretty pleased with how chapter 2 turned out, even if I'm still a bit nervous about posting it because it's more intense than anything I've written before.

Tagging @tinknevertalks @theleotorrio @writerxwren (and anyone else who wants to play along!!)

#thank you :)#tag game

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hs122 · 1 month ago

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Fictober 2024: "That was good work"

TW: hanging, death, mutilation of a corpse, poor writing

Original characters in unoriginal world: Vampire: the Masquerade.

I'm serious about the poor writing. You've been warned.

“So I just place this candle…”

“In between the fingers of the hand, that’s correct,” Helen said curtly. Helen wasn’t a mean person, but she was rather angry at the moment. She was angry at me, for the record, not the fledgling. Helen’s colorful pastel sundress made her pale skin seem even more pale, but it was the fact that she wore colors that was likely more the statement. It’s hard to get blood out of colors.

Helen was showing the fledgling how to use the Hand of Glory, a grisly mummified hand that was wrapped in cloth. Helen’s pale fingers placed the candle in between the fingers, and she made the motion of lighting it. The candle itself was an off-white color, and smelled horrible.

It was made from human fat though, so, you know, you get what you get. Fortunately, none of us actually needed to breath.

“Once you light it,” Helen continued, “it will cause all who are touched by its light to fall into a deep sleep. With the exception of the one who lights it.”

The Fledgling in question, Tamika, was a younger Black woman. Embraced in what seemed to be her mid-twenties, she had a very professional air about her, which was par for the course for a Ventrue. The vampiric ‘Clan of Kings’ always carried itself rather confidently, and she was no exception. The Ventrue were also cursed with a very refined palate. The dietary restrictions never made sense to me; one Ventrue could only feed from Frat Bros, one could only feed from gay men, and on and on it goes.

In Tamika’s case, it was a state of being: Sleeping people. I wasn’t sure what it was about sleeping people, but that was the restriction. She’d been getting away with it through the use of drugs and a healthy dose of breaking and entering.

But recently, it was clear that it was something of a hindrance, and the ability to just knock people out without pharmaceuticals that would also affect her was established as being very important. The clan was looking for narcoleptics, but they must have had some difficulties.

Which was when they turned to me. Eventually. As a middle man.

“I think I understand,” Tamika said calmly, in a controlled and professional manner. I could see a slight curving of her mouth, a slight increase in speed in her movements. She was probably excited. With Ventrue, it can be a little difficult to read the emotional states.

“Excellent,” I cut in. I was in something of a hurry, I still had shit to do and moonlight was burning. “You’re doing a test run later correct?”

Tamika nodded, “we are. A few of Cross’s mortal associates will participate.”

“Great, and once it’s shown that it works, we’ll be expecting payment. Be sure to remind Cross.” I said with a wide grin. I was really playing up the ‘used-car salesman’ vibe. It fit my reputation, and when Kindred knew what they were getting, business went smoother.

“He will,” Tamika said, her eyes guarded, but she couldn’t hide that slight eagerness. Cross’s childe must be very new for her to be showing this much emotion.

After she left, Helen and I sat in my ‘office’. It was an empty apartment, little decor outside a desk and chairs. It was ad hoc, which was important as I moved it often. I kept most of my stuff at storage facilities, but I never did real business there. Keep your business separate from your personal life. Boundaries are important for mental health.

“You didn’t tell her how we got it,” Helen observed.

“She didn’t ask,” I replied, “and no one wants to know how the sausage is made.”

“She’s Ventrue. I doubt she’d care too much,” Helen continued, “and it’s not exactly a secret Isaiah. It’s a known folkloric object. That it requires vampiric blood to be created is the secret.”

Helen was right, of course. She was rarely wrong. The ‘Murdering Hand of a Hanged Man’ is pretty easy to deduce. Find murderer, hang murderer, cut off hands. That you have to turn the rest of the corpse into candles is a fun addition.

“Well if she asks, we just tell her the truth,” I replied, “we hanged a Murderer and cut off his hands. Easy peasy. And I wouldn't count on her being so.... understanding. She's new, after all. I think she's been Kindred for what? A year? Maybe less?”

Helen narrowed her eyes at me. For all her clan’s fierce reputation as Blood Sorcerers, this Tremere vampire had a remarkably kind heart. Or at least less bloody minded and/or ruthless.

“I’ll tell her you got the materials,” Helen said after a minute. “Do you have your end of the bargain? I don’t work for free either.”

“You know,” I started slowly, “you could just move to Tampa. You wouldn’t have to deal with the Camarilla laws.” I pointed out.

Helen just stared at me. I knew she preferred the more neo-feudal order of the Camarilla St. Petersburg over the, uh, ‘lively’ state of affairs in Tampa.

“You can take my ‘Right of Childer’,” I said, giving a wave. I’d been given the right some time ago as payment. I wasn’t interested in training any new vampires though. Too much work to distract me from my work. “Go find your apprentice or whatever. Make your own fledgling.”

Helen gave me a disdainful expression, and I was briefly reminded that she could boil my blood with a glare. Not that she would, that is. Just that she could.

She strode out of the apartment quick enough though.

The inevitable call came the following night.

I had just gotten out of the shower when my phone rang. I hadn’t even gotten out of the bathroom.

“Speak,” I said simply.

“It’s Cross,” a deep voice said over the phone. I always forgot how hot he sounded when he spoke.

I looked myself in the mirror, trying to decided if I wanted to keep the scruff that regrew every single night or shave it off. I was never tan, so the pale nature of my skin wasn’t too dramatic of a change, but when I died I’d not shaved for several days. As a result, I have a ‘more than scruff, but less than a beard’ follicular situation on my face.

My dark brown hair was always short, since it wouldn’t ever grow anymore. Just to finish off your mental image of me, I frequently went to the gym when I lived. It wasn’t a huge part of my life or anything, I wasn’t a bodybuilder, but I was glad I kept myself in shape before I died.

“What’s up Cross?” I replied, fingering the wedding ring on my left hand.

“Where did you get the hands?” he asked bluntly. He wasn’t even bothering with coding his language. Must be secure. Or he must be genuinely concerned about something.

I smiled as I leaned against the bathroom counter.

“I don’t think I need to answer that,” I replied, “did it work or not?”

“It did,” Cross replied, “but that doesn’t answer the question. And you will answer the question Isaiah.”

You know, I don’t think I was ever this attracted to men when I was alive. I know there’s a stereotype of vampires being gay, but sometimes I wonder if that really does come with the fangs.

“From a murderer, obviously.” I replied with a slightly mocking tone to it. That wouldn’t irritate him, but it was still fun. “What, do you think I stole a corpse or something?”

“Hanging isn’t legal in Florida,” Cross growled, “they replaced it with the Electric chair in the 20’s. I pushed for that. So you didn’t steal the corpse. So. Where. Did. You. Get. The. Hands.”

He wasn’t going to let this go. Cross was probably hyperfocused on getting an answer. That’s one thing about Ventrue people don’t realize: they need to be obeyed. Clan of Kings? Yeah, because they obsess over getting people to just listen to them.

“I knew a murderer,” I replied, “a Ghoul and I used a chain and a truck to hang him. You know how mortals are with me, they always spill their deepest sins.” Being a Minister in life helped with that, I still find it funny that the Clan I was embraced into was called ‘The Ministry’. “He told me he killed his boss. Strangulation, conveniently enough.”

“I see,” Cross said, “and the entire body was used correct?”

Cross was head of a group that enforced the Masquerade, the lie that vampires are fiction. He was always wary of people killing the Kine, the mortals. If it was just a corpse or two, it didn’t usually matter, but if he heard about a killing, finding out what happened to the evidence was something he was always concerned with.

“Of course,” I said, “The fat was used to make the candles, the rest of the flesh was used to feed Anya’s garden. The bones I’m holding on to. I’ll drop the skull off in a few months so they can match dental records and close a missing person’s case. I’m thinking alligators.”

“Fine,” Cross said after a pause. There was another pause before he spoke again. “The system works very well. Tamika’s feeding will likely be far more consistent now.”

“Of course it works well,” I said. “Have I ever let you down? ”

There was a pause for a few seconds before he spoke again. He was actually thinking on the question.

“Well, you let Melissa down,” Cross replied with a bit of an edge before the line went dead.

He had to bring the fucking wife into this didn’t he?

You’re probably wondering about the murderer aren’t you? Why was I so evasive? Why not just tell him? Surely dealing with a death didn’t bother vampires to much.

Well, you’d be right. But Cross was likely concerned that I had a stable of serial killers on hand. Or he was worried that I did something stupid like break into a jail or something.

I’m not going to lie, that was the original plan.

But… well it turns out that breaking someone out of jail is a pain in the ass. We were thinking of bribing a warden into giving us the corpse after an execution, but Cross was right, Hanging was banned in the 20’s.

It turns out, when you want to make a Hand of Glory, store bought murderer isn’t an option. You have to make your own.

“Please! Please don’t!” the man shouted. I honestly forgot his name at that point. It was so easy to convince him murder would solve his problems.

I mean, he’d been wanting to murder his boss for months now. Ever since he found out the guy was sleeping with his wife. It didn’t take much to convince him that the killing was justified, and that God rewards those who mete out justice.

We were out in the middle of a swamp. It was pretty deep in, so no one to hear him. Judging by the far too intelligent looking wolf that kept watch over us, I didn’t think we had anything to worry about from humans.

Our murderer was a rather rotund individual, mid-forties, balding. He was in some kind of middle-management position. Once I thought he’d go far, that he had the will to advance, to liberate himself from the chains society had placed on him.

But no. He held onto those chains for dear life. The only time he cut them was when it benefitted him. He resisted true liberation.

“Please! No! You said it would all be okay!” the man shouted some more.

I was only half listening. I was tired of dealing with this job. It should have been easy. I mean, it was, but it was just annoying.

“And everything will be okay,” I said finally, “once you finally shut up. Cora, please, let’s hurry this up.”

Cora’s a ghoul. An aggressively lesbian ghoul with long blonde hair in a loose ponytail, has an affinity for plaid in a variety of color combinations, and loves Doc Martins. She was young when her Regnant, a Tzimisce named Anya, turned her into a Ghoul. Thus, at least 20 years later, she still looks like you need to see ID before you give her a drink. That’s the power of becoming a ghoul people: eternal youth and you still get sunlight, so long as you get your fix regularly.

“No! No! Please! I have a-” His voice was cut off as I made eye contact.

I knew what he was seeing: two vibrantly green eyes, with large black slits. Snake eyes. The eyes of a serpent. Just as the myths of gorgons, he froze, his body no longer moving. There would be no more words.

Cora frowned at me and started up the truck. As she drove, the chain tightened and the man rose into the air, his restrained body squirming as I lost eye contact for a second and he tried to free himself. At least he wasn’t shouting anymore.

“Finally,” I muttered, as I watched the squirming man.

Bob! That was his name! Bob Carter. That was going to bother me all night. His wife was Cindy Carter, a few kids. Might have to check in on them in a few months.

I knew there was still more work to do on this, but at least the end was in sight. Cora would have to go and bury the body somewhere overnight, and my understanding was that she already had a hole ready. And once that was done, it would have to be exhumed the following night, and then the candles would actually have to be made. Fortunately, I wasn’t going to have to do that. That was all Helen. I knew some sorcery, but I didn’t know how to make candles. You needed both. Helen apparently made candles as a wee child back in the 30’s.

Cora got out and walked around to stand next to me. She wasn’t my ghoul, she drank Anya’s blood, not mine. It made being around her a little… awkward. It was a bit like being stuck with someone’s kid or something. I could deal with that though. Collecting favors and boons from an up-and-coming Ventrue usually proved helpful, especially when you knew she’d be a repeat customer eventually.

“So, uh,” she started. “How long do you think?”

“Eh, give it 10 minutes or so,” I said calmly. “Just remember to lower the corpse into the bed. You know the drill.”

Cora nodded, she knew how to clean up a mess. Even one that was at least twice her size.

A few nights later, I was at Cross’s corporate office. He might have been alive when slavery was still a thing, but he kept with the times. The Masquerade enforcer had a data collection and analysis firm that worked in advertising and market research. A great cover for a group that essentially did city wide surveillance.

A beacon of the modern corporate hive, the office was all glass and modernist architecture, but it still had a strange sense of oppression. A feeling that you were being controlled, that you were under the dominion of another.

Cross was the person I needed to meet with, but, well, I have to follow up on my work.

“So,” I said as I slid in the chair that sat in front of Tamika’s desk. I wasn’t sure what she did, but it must have been very important for her to both have an office and be Embraced. “How is the Hand working?”

Tamika’s flat expression was briefly broken with a smile. It probably helped that I had turned off the ‘used-car salesman’ vibe and was now aiming for something along the lines of ‘proud artisan’.

“It works wonderfully,” Tamika said simply. “Thank you for your assistance.”

It was kind of cute, receiving an actual thank you. It even seemed genuine.

“Well I can’t take all the credit,” I said, leaning back in the chair. “Helen made the actual candles. I just collected the materials.”

Tamika’s face seemed to twitch, a bit of a suspicious eyeing. It was gone quickly.

“Still,” she said after a moment, “That was good work.”

#fictober24 #writing exercise #vtm #vampire the masquerade #I'm really serious about the poorly written warning

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archduchessofnowhere · 1 year ago

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The Accidental Empress Reading Blog I: Evil Gackl and the regency of Archduchess Sophie

I knew what I was getting into when I started The Accidental Empress, I really did. This historical fiction romance novel by Allison Pataki about Empress Elisabeth of Austria doesn't have particularly flying reviews in Goodreads, mainly to the historical inaccuracies and mischaracterizations. But I wanted to judge it by myself, specially since this is a very popular novel.

But I'm only one chapter in and this is my only reaction:

I have so many things to say about this chapter alone that I'm going to do a break down of it. I'm not planning to do this with every chapter (it will take me forever to finish it if I do), so enjoy this over analyzing reading blog, it won't happen again!

We start the chapter with Elisabeth and Helene outdoors, hiding from someone. We soon learn that that someone is their 13-years-old brother Karl Theodor "Gackl". Who is a bully that constantly torments them and insults them. I wish I was making this up.

...

In reality, Karl Theodor was Elisabeth's favorite brother and they remained close all their lives; he even named one of his daughters after her. Karl Theodor must have been a very charming and likeable man, since everyone that knew him held him in high esteem. Needless to say, he was nothing like how Pataki chose to portray him.

Because changing Gackl's personality was a deliberate choice by the author, in her own words: "I needed a mechanism for some early character development for the spirited, plucky young Sisi, and so Karl became an early opponent of sorts". I'm not that advanced into the book to decide if this benefited Elisabeth's character arc; but Gackl just bullying his elder sisters with no consequence seems kinda... dumb?

Continuing with the chapter, after this (they escape from Gackl by throwing rocks at him or something? I don't remember) the family gathers to dinner. Here we are told a little more of the family, and we find out that Elisabeth's eldest brother Ludwig Wilhelm "Louis" just... doesn't exist in this book? Karl Theodor is referred as the eldest son and heir more than once?? Weird choice, specially since the second book (yes this has a sequel) covers the Mayerling affair, in which Louis' daughter Countess Marie Larisch played a key role.

During dinner comes the unavoidable moment in which Ludovika announces that her sister Sophie asked for Helene's hand in marriage for her son, the young Emperor Franz Josef. This never happened, but (with great sorrow) I'll let it slide for the sake of the narrative.

Up until that point this novel had been your average, overly done, "Sisi lives free of worries in humble Possenhofen until her sister is told she's going to marry the emperor". I had nothing positive to say about it, but also nothing negative. It is a curse of contemporary Sisi adaptations that a relative she had a good relationship with is turned into a sort of antagonist (think Helene in RTL's Sisi and Ludovika in Netflix's The Empress), so even Gackl's villain arc didn't upset me that much.

You know what did upset me? This:

WHAT??? Franz Josef had been emperor since 1848. There was no regency, Sophie didn't had to rule anything. He was only eighteen, but he was of age and took charge of his reign from the very beginning. The implication that only since 1853 he had power is insane.

I already fear that Pataki went down the path of "Franz didn't do anything wrong, ever! It was his evil mother who ordered all those executions!" In fact, a couple of lines later Elisabeth recalls Franz Josef as "schrink[ing] whenever his mother had spoken" when she met him in 1848, a few months before the abdication of emperor Ferdinand. Which is also total crap.

And if I had any hope left for nuanced portrayal of Sophie, I completely lost it when Elisabeth recalls her meeting with her aunt:

Wow I can't wait to see the rest of her characterization! *sarcasm*

So far the writing itself had been okay-ish, even if I already had problems with the characterization and historical accuracy. But from this point onward we are delivered incredibly awkward expository dialogues, which completely took me out of the novel because it was obvious that the characters weren't talking to each other, but explaining to the reader the historical context. Like this just isn't a natural sounding dialogue at all:

"Your father is referring to the fact"???? I understand this novel is aimed at a general audience, but having the characters literally explaining the history (specially since this is recent history for them! it happened less than five years ago!!) feels extremely forced to me. Duke Max's dialogue alone worked fine, a voice in off could've explained the rest.

The chapter wraps up after this with Ludovika informing that Elisabeth will also accompany Helene to meet her betrothed (say it with me: Helene and Franz Josef were never engaged!), then the girls have an emotional talk in their bedroom and the chapter is over. I'll give Pataki one point for originality because she didn't follow the typical path of Helene being groomed to become empress for years and even had her oppose to the idea of marrying Franz Josef, but that's it.

And to finish this ridiculously long reading blog, I left under the cut all the inaccuracies that, while don't actually affect the plot so in theory can be forgiven, annoyed me anyway!

The Aunt Myth strikes! I don't blame Pataki for this mistake, since she probably took it from Hamann's biography. I made a whole post about how this is incorrect, but in short: while it's true that the Ducal household was in mourning, it wasn't for an aunt, but for Duke Georg of Saxe-Altenburg, Queen Therese of Bavaria's brother (so he wasn't even related to Elisabeth).

Actually Ludovika herself was extremely introverted, and according to her granddaughter Amalie of Urach, every interaction with people outside her inner circle was a torment for the Duchess. Public events and social gatherings caused Ludovika a lot of anxiety and she tried to avoid them at all cost, often excusing herself alleging being ill. All her children were said to also be very timid, most famously Elisabeth, who apparently spoke so lowly that sometimes it was hard to understand what she was saying.

It wasn't unusual for royals to marry people they had never met in their life (that ended up being the case of Sisi's sister Marie), but Ludovika and Max knew each other since they were children. King Maximilian of Bavaria, Ludovika's father and Duke Max's great-uncle, was fond of his nephew and wanted him to be close to his daughters, partly because Duke Max was quite lonely as a child, and partly so he wouldn't be a stranger to his future wife. A nice gesture, but that didn't prevent the couple of being utterly miserable together once they married at 20-years-old.

I am once again asking writers to understand that this was just not a possibility. Netflix's The Empress also has a moment of "You will stay with me as a lady-in-waiting!!", ignoring that being a lady-in-waiting was technically a job that belonged to the women from the highest ranking noble families in the empire. Noble, not royal. Elisabeth was the granddaughter of a king, being a lady-in-waiting was beneath her status. Also, why is this presented as a good thing anyway? Sisi serving her own sister would've been humiliating for her.

This is a silly mistake to point out since it can even be justified within the text as Sisi not knowing the proper titles for being so young; but this is the me being annoying section so I'll point it out anyway: there was only one Crown Prince, the rest of Helene's hypothetical children would've been Archdukes or Archduchesses (the Crown Prince was also an Archduke, but it was more usual to call him by the former title). And the Crown Princess was the Crown Prince's wife, the Habsburgs never had a Crown Princess in her own right.

High class girls going into marriage completely ignorant about sex is an strangely common trope in historical fiction, and while this was true for some (this was the case of Stephanie of Belgium, at least according to her memoirs), most of them knew exactly what was supposed to happen. After all, producing an heir was their more important task, so why would they not be told how they were meant to achieve that?

Ludovika was well aware of that, and she did not keep her girls in the dark about sex. She always talked very openly about it, and was proud of having educated her daughters about what happened on the wedding night. So no, she didn't "only ever implied things"

To be fair with Pataki, she wouldn't have found this information regarding Ludovika in Elisabeth's biographies in English. All of this information I found in Martina Winkelhofer's biography, only published in 2021 and still untranslated in English. I think the biggest problem with this book in regards with historical accuracy is going to be that Pataki relied solely on outdated English sources that perpetuate myths that have been challenged in German works for the past decades.

#btw i had this in my drafts for a week and now i'm like 30% in. spoiler: it doesn't get better #next update will cover the end of part 1!#the accidental empress reading blog #the accidental empress #author: allison pataki

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ineffable-monster-romancer · 2 years ago

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Glass Onion Things 3rd Rewatch

Blanc on the discord call: "The last thing I need is a vacation" Blanc to Miles when he offers him Jared Leto's Hard Kombucha: "Well I AM on vacation"

I'm sorry I know it's old news, but everyone falling about coughing and spluttering with the shot and Blanc's polite "ahem". I would say Whiskey is the most subdued next to Blanc?

"The question isn't why did he invite her, it's why did she show up?" Noooo, I really think the question is why was she sent an invite.

The joke "piceshite" about the docks I don't know if people picked up on it immediately and that was the joke that it went right over their heads but as a Scottish gal Piece eh shite had me absolutely in stitches

Also why would he assume it was a Banksy? Correct me if I'm wrong but isn't Banksy famously very anti-capatalist? Like didn't he have one of his most famous paintings shredded immediately after auction or something?

Someone find that tweet that talks about how rich people are more likely to pursue the arts because they have the liberty of time because they're fuckin rich, and apply that to Miles knowing how to play guitar (or at least a bit of it).

WHY IS THE GUITAR THE ONLY MOMENT WE SEE THE BIRDIE FACADE TRULY DROP? Is it an acting choice? Is it a gag? Also when he drops the guitar that Paul wrote blackbird onto the sand (scratches, bumps, dings omfg) nobody says anything, but when Helen takes that fuck off mace to the piano the first comment is "that belonged to Liberace". Shows they don't care about the origins really, just who does what with it

Watching Claire be soooo uncomfortable with that Miles hug, watching Miles be soooo uncomfortable with that Duke hug, watching Duke be soooo uncomfortable with that Whiskey hug, watching Miles and Lionel both be uncomfortable in their strange 4 millisecond greeting.

Someone said in the tags of one of my other posts that Derol represents Covid and I'm just OBSESSED with that. BUT more obsessed with the thought that Derol is the epitome of lockdown. He's what normal, everyday fuckers like you n me went through. Drinking, smoking, "going through some stuff", being alone. Sometimes we would comment on what the elite were up to, but mostly we were in the background to their extravagant parties. But in the end, when the Glass Onion is exploding, Blanc sits and smokes with him, because they're just two dudes who went through hell in lockdown, watching something funny.

Miles walking away from the bags, shoves between Duke and Whiskey, putting his arm over Dukes shoulders (hilarious because the size difference) and an arm round Whiskey's waist, but Birdie then jumps between Miles and Whiskey and bumps her out of the way

Why when Whiskey is walking along the slats is she purposely walking on the gravel between the wood? Why does she give Duke into trouble for also standing on the wood? Why does Duke then correct his feet to stand on the gravel?

The Chakra that we can see are absolutely wild, like holy shit

Birdie - Sacral - Sexuality and creativity

Whiskey - Heart - Love and healing

Andi - Root - Basic Trust - Survival

Blanc's bumbling Southern gentleman fool act is AMAZING. They all KNOW he's the world's greatest detective. But while he's bumbling up and down "oh my word it's full of stars!" He's being his own Glass Onion! He's hiding directly in plain sight

"Simple Children's Puzzles" MILES FACE babe he's the world's greatest detective

PREDEFINITE DETECTIVE. Prerequisite maybe? But even that doesn't make sense? Prominent?

BIRDIE GIVING IT THE SEXIEST CATWALK OF THE WORLD YES GIRL HOLY SHIT

Lionel and Claire 😏 you know? The fact that he's leaning right over her to see the laptop, and her dressing gown is off her shoulder but as soon as Birdie shows up they're leaving six feet for god

Benoit Blanc's little bathing suit with his little matching ascot and his little moccasins and it HAS POCKETS shut up he's the new Poirot shut up he's the new Sherlock that's fuckin Fred Jones.

PANCAKED. He's the only one to say pancaked, it intentionally sticks in your brain

DONG.

Claire and Lionel are the only "intellects" in the friend group. Like Claire is a politician and Lionel is a scientist, a lot more hangs on their words than Model and Twitch Streamer

Duke leaving his shit in the pool, firing his gun, wearing his speedos and throwing his macho man facade about. It's so gross it's amazing.

You never know when shits gonna go down is such a red herring in dukes relationship to the gun. It immediately made me think DUKE is going to shoot someone, or DUKE is going to be shot. Didn't realise that what Duke really needed was an Epipen

Peg why do you have a switchblade

Whiskey yawning while they talk about Birdie's accomplishments

"SOCCER MOM IN BEIGE" just kill her it's kinder holy shit

It's dangerous to mistake speaking without thought to speaking the truth, don't you think? TATTOO THIS ON MY BODY PLEASE

I'm assuming that Peg has been around for a while, seeing as Claire knows to say hello to her and that this meet up is an annual thing and what not, so the fact that Miles doesn't remember her name is hilarious. Also, THE RED SOLO CUP. Man took one look at Peg and thought "Freshman, beer pong"

SOCCER MOM IN BEIGE DRINKS ROOM TEMP WHITE HOLY SHIT MILES JUST KILL HER ITS KINDER

Benoit has some fucking incredible hand eye coordination, him catching the Klear was some spiderman shit

Blanc is the perfect POV to have the first half of Glass Onion play through. He doesn't have a clue. He's along for the ride, what he sees, we have seen. He asks questions and points out things that we would also want to know, like yeah, what is Klear and do we win a prize and why is the car on the roof?

I fully believe when Blanc left the room with the magazine of Birdie way way back in that scene, THATS when he solved Miles murder mystery.

Also his friends kinda seem to be having a great time watching Benoit fucking decimating Miles good time 😂

"I hired Gillian Flynn to write the whole thing -" "OooOoh she's quite gooood"

THE COIN! HE GOT THE COIN OUT

#glass onion: a knives out mystery #glass onion spoilers #glass onion

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bluejaysandblackbats · 5 months ago

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Honor in Crisis

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, NTT, Titans, JLI, Arrowfam, Flashfam, GL Corps, Infinity Inc

Summary: Every chapter will focus on one character specifically and then I'll update their statuses in order.

This is a no powers au/fix-it fic for Heroes in Crisis. I wanted to focus on the characters and their healing. I decided that'd be easier to put some of these characters in a fic like this and work on it more from a real-world perspective. I DO want to say that I do not believe healing is linear so don't plan on a clear-cut happy ending. I'd say (and idk for sure) we're gonna eventually get a bittersweet ending for certain characters but nothing tragic.

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Kole Weathers, Lilith Clay, Michael Carter, Michelle Carter, Rani Carter, Grant Emerson, Roy Harper, Grant Wilson, Joseph Wilson, Thaddeus Thawne, Bart Allen, Helen Claiborne, President Thawne, Todd Rice, Alan Scott (DCU), Damon Matthews

Relationship(s): Damon Matthews/Todd Rice

Additional Tags: No Powers AU, Canon Divergent AU, Fix-It Fic, Angst, TW // Eating Disorder Mention (please be kind this one was the toughest for me to write personally)

Chapter Two: Watercolor (Kole Weather's POV)

Kole's fingers were stained from the watercolor, but it didn't bother her. Her mind was elsewhere. She took her palm and wiped her forehead, staining her temple. She wiped her hands on a paper towel and picked up the pack of oil pastels. She was startled by the sound of someone knocking a brush washer off the table. "Fuck," they cursed. Kole dropped her oil pastel on the table and got up from the table. She left the room, and a nurse followed her out.

"Kole, is everything alright?" the nurse asked. Kole nodded even though she was trembling from head to toe. The nurse gave Kole a little distance, which she was grateful for, and she closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders back.

Kole was already on edge, and she just wanted to take that as a sign and cancel her plans. She didn't really want her friend to see her. Kole tried to hide the worst of the disorder from her friends, but things had gotten so bad. Kole couldn't remember what happened clearly, but she could recall sobbing because she'd lost clumps of her hair. Never mind the tachycardia and muscle spasms Kole experienced on the floor in the dressing room. She nearly died. That was the last time her friends saw her. That was the image they must've carried in their heads when they thought about her. It happened two months ago, but they hadn't seen her since then.

Kole feared that it'd be too much pressure. She imagined that they'd poke and prod her with all the wrong questions or treat her differently because of what happened. The guilt consumed her. Wasn't that enough? Had the circumstances been different, she would've slipped and refused to eat or hurt herself to stop the panic. Her therapist insisted that it was expected for her to want to self-sabotage in high-stress conditions. At least that's what she remembered. The nurse returned and whispered Kole's name. She snapped back to the present time, and the nurse asked, "Are you ready to go back in?"

Kole nodded. "Yes, sorry," she whispered as she followed the nurse back inside. She sat down in her spot and went back to her art piece. When it was time to move on, Kole went to the cafeteria, and she was met by a friend who immediately lit up upon seeing her.

"I'm so happy to see you," Lilith whispered, "I missed you."

Kole didn't know how to react, but she wrapped her arms around Lilith. Lilith got in line with Kole, and they got dinner together. Kole led Lilith to her usual table, and a nurse sat down next to her. Lilith sat across from her. Kole's hands shook as she looked down at her plate. It wasn't until she heard Lilith's spoon hit the bowl that she looked up. "Can I tell you something? Sister-to-sister?" Lilith questioned as she glanced up at Kole. Kole was relieved to hear that Lilith still considered her a sister. Kole nodded. "I know I'm the first person to come visit, and I know this might seem overwhelming, but I'm grateful that you let me come. I also want you to know that I don't want to rush you."

"Thanks, Lil," Kole mumbled. She meant it.

She started eating, and Lilith started rambling about how a showcase she was in. It didn't bother Kole to hear about it. In fact, she'd been excited to get back to dancing. That was one of the things she had to look forward to. "Sorry, Kole... I'm just so nervous," Lilith chuckled.

"No, it's okay. I was actually—. I was looking forward to dancing with you again," Kole whispered. She tensed, waiting for Lilith to speak. Kole wondered if Lilith would try to let her down easily. She wondered if Lilith would say she wasn't ready yet.

"There's nothing that I'd want more," Lilith replied. They both went back to eating, and for just a moment, Kole forgot where she was. Dinner was surprisingly good for once. Lilith and Kole met eyes while they were chewing, and Kole chuckled. "What?" Lilith laughed.

"This wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," Kole replied after swallowing her food. Lilith smiled at her. Lilith took a sip of her water and smiled.

"Good," Lilith whispered.

Lilith was so good to her despite the issues Kole had with Lilith's mother. They both had problems with her, but that's what made them sisters. After they finished eating dinner, Lilith said her goodbyes, and Kole grabbed her hand. "You'll come back, won't you?" Kole asked. Lilith smiled and embraced her.

"I will," Lilith whispered, "Just let me know when."

As soon as Lilith was gone, Kole felt an emptiness inside herself. She lounged on the couch watching tv. She glanced over at the young man on the other end of the sofa as he mouthed the words to the tv show's episode silently to himself. His hands were burned, and so were parts of his neck and face. "Is this your favorite show?" Kole asked. He shook his head.

"No, I was on set when this was filmed," he replied. Kole looked back at the tv, and he whispered, "He's gone... He's gone to be with the lord," in sync with the tv.

Kole smiled. She thought it was funny that the young man always did that. She sometimes liked to watch the other patients. Things could be dreary, but seeing people smiling and laughing was pleasant. It made her think that she could be happy. Really happy.

She hugged her knees as she sat on the couch and dozed off in front of the tv. She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, but someone woke her up in time for their group to reflect on their goals. Kole rushed to her usual seat, and she took a deep breath. She was hesitant to share, but she always forced herself to. Four people went before her, and when it came to her, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I had dinner with my friend today. She came here and sat in with me... I wanted to hurt myself, so I wouldn't have to see her... But I had fun. I didn't think I would, but I did," Kole whispered. She didn't look up for fear of making eye contact with a specific person in the group.

"So you want to be applauded for what? Not slipping?" a young man in the group asked.

"Dude!" someone chastised him. "Kole, personally, I wish I was ready to have meals with my family."

"Thank you, but it's okay. No one owes me any recognition. I'm just—. I'm proud of myself, and I didn't want to be ashamed of my anxieties," Kole clarified. Standing up for herself. She proudly smiled as she looked down at her lap. It was a good end to a difficult day.

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crookedherringcolorclod · 2 years ago

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Tell me who I am, guess I don't have a choice.|| Helen and Akemi (the finale)

A/N: So this is unfortunately the final chapter for Helen. This was in the works since last year and it felt wrong to leave it unfinished… but after all that happened, I decided to make this as a way to say goodbye. So @nutaella-kookie , I hope you’ll be okay during this rough time in your life and I wish you happiness. 💕 If you ever return, my crazy username I made when I was 15 will remain the same. Here’s to the future surprises that will never be made. 🥂

How did it come to this?

In the many encounters that Helen had with the Sakamakis, she could summarize most of them as unpleasant, leaving a sour taste at the back of her throat. So when she met Akemi again... It felt so mundane, absurdly so that Helen almost always forget that the girl in front of her is much older than she is. Has seen so much more than she did.

So Helen often asks herself why? Why is this vampire hanging out with her of all people? Not caring about the students gossiping behind her back while they remain oblivious to the fact that the vampire could hear them at least a mile away?

There was almost nothing that she could gain in return. Helen was like a mushy fruit, she smells sweet at first until you find out she's slowly rotting on the inside, no need to open her up with a knife. Tastes bad too. Shu has always complained about her blood and tried to give her a detox to fix it but to no avail. It felt foolish to think Akemi wanted to be friends with her of all people.

Akemi only shrugged when Helen asked her. “They always try to find ways to talk about me, being with you is just another excuse to try and drag me down.” she scoffed, hands behind her back as she walked together with Helen as they walked in the never-ending school corridors. The warm ceiling lights above resembled sunlight, almost.

Silence filled the air between the two whilst they walked down the hallways. Leaving Helen with her thoughts. Wondering if Akemi was wearing a mask in front of her.

“I would probably ask you to come with me to the rooftop but I don't think I should?” Akemi cocked her head, giving Helen a look between concern and amusement. Spring has yet to arrive with its sweet cherry blossoms to thaw away the winter’s chill, yet here is Helen, traversing a hallway of a prestigious school that never paid for new heaters… her bare legs exposed to the cold.

She could hear the human’s teeth chatter. “I… I’m not cold.” Helen stuttered out, wringing her school uniform around her tightly, cinching her waist even further, she looked more like a doll than a living human. Akemi laughed at Helen’s remark. “Mmm yes, you are very brave Miss Helen, flaunting your treasured legs to the students while not caring about the high chances you have to get hypothermia.” Helen shoots a look the vampire’s way, clearly flustered by her remark. “Your uniform doesn’t exactly look toasty to me.”

Looking down at her skirt, Akemi just smiled and gave a twirl. Her skirt was almost the same length as Helen’s, flowing about with every move she made as her sheer black stockings hides her bare skin. “I don’t get cold.” Akemi proclaimed.

In disbelief, Helen’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Aren’t vampires supposed to be cold? Do you have those heating pads under your clothes or something?" Akemi tilted her head to the side, blinking away her doe eyes at Helen. “No, why?”

“You don’t know about heating pads? You can’t be serious? Then how are you not cold?” Helen asked fervently. In the back of her mind, she asks herself again, why? Why does she care about this girl before her? Vampires can endure more, and live longer than a human can achieve in their lifetimes, one winter could probably feel like nothing to them.

How could she let herself feel empathy toward this vampire? The last time she let her heart bleed for another… she regretted it.

Yet when Helen grazed her hand against Akemi’s, she thought she had imagined that warmth from the vampire’s fingers.

Pianist's hands… not as smooth as his but not as cold. If anything the vampire’s hands felt like a human’s.

“Oh honestly, I don’t understand why you say you’re fine. Your fingers are turning blue, see?” Sure enough, Helen could see that Akemi was right, her fingers had a blue hue to them, a contrast to the blush on Akemi's fingertips. Thrumming with blood.

Helen’s lips parted in shock, closing immediately in a desperate attempt to act aloof. It felt far too risky to her. Why am I like this? For all, I know she could be toying with me. “Why do you even hang with me? Do you get anything from this?” Helen asks again, desperate for answers, anything. She felt tired, so tired of the series of events that had happened to her. It didn’t even feel fair.

Akemi tilts her head to the side, her eyes looked honest. “I just-”

“Akemi”

The pair looked back to find Reiji standing in front of him, serpentine eyes glaring daggers at both of them. Akemi lets go of Helen before Reiji noticed their hands intertwined.

Reiji made his way toward Akemi with a glare on his face, looking down at her as if she offended his ancestors despite how small their height gap is. “Where have you been? The limousine has been waiting for approximately 5 minutes for you.”

Akemi’s face slowly clouded with annoyance. “I was on my way. Besides, the others take longer than I do. Why are you singling me out?” Akemi huffed out, Reiji continues to glare at her, clearly frustrated with the defiance and the lack of fear in Akemi’s stance. Wine-colored eyes made their way in Helen’s direction, burning with the fury that refused to hide itself under his cool exterior.

“And you, have I not been clear with my opinion of you, Miss Harrison?” Reiji cautioned thunderously, his voice clipped and precise, adjusting his glasses. “Honestly, do you intend to facilitate such relationships with all of the members of the Sakamaki family? Good grief, why must you be so shameless-“

“Reiji!” Akemi hissed, tugging his sleeve. “I’ll go, just stop.”

With his brow raised, Reiji’s face softened, replaced with smug satisfaction as his lips turned into a smile. “Very well then, now if you would excuse us, Miss Harrison.” Helen could only watch on with irritation bubbling up her chest, not being able to talk back as she watched Akemi storm off with Reiji following close by as they continue to bicker, too far for Helen to decipher what they were saying.

“I need a drink,” Helen muttered to herself, flipping her black curls off her shoulders as she walked away.

Frustrated, Akemi tied her hair up in a ponytail, stuffing her blonde hair into her wig. Desperate for some kind of temporary escape, her heels clink against the concrete as she makes her way to the bar and its blaring lights. Caught in between yearning to get wasted and fearing whoever wanted to take advantage of her.

That control freak, always on my butt when his brothers are much worse. Akemi ran her hand through the wig’s black curls, the ends tickling the nape of her slender neck, and she had the urge to rip off her wig. Her eyes burn at the bartender’s back as he continues to shake someone else drink.

A shrill voice breaks the silence in Akemi’s mind, standing out from the upbeat music and laughter. “Another!” A brunette girl just a few seats exclaimed, raising her glass, almost dropping the glass in between her fingers as she laughed. Sighing Akemi, turned her head, piqued by the noise, and yet she didn't pay attention to the noisy girl demanding more shots... but the girl next to her, chatting away and tossing her head back in a calculated matter, looking like a half baked dream in a man’s fantasy. If you asked Akemi, it's almost sad to watch her...

Oh sweet Helen, you break my heart.

“Hey! Wanna join us? I’m Kaede!” The brunette extended her hand in friendship. Akemi smiled took her hand and walked towards Helen. “Aurelia? It’s been a while.” Akemi winced, she couldn’t believe she told that human that name… her real name, the one that died with her parents.

Kaede’s eyes widened in surprise. “You two know each other? What a coincidence.”

Akemi forced out a smile. “You’d be surprised. Drinks on me?” Kaede squealed, chattering the night away, so carefree that Akemi felt jealous of her. It must be nice, to not live so long. Akemi curses herself for not looking Helen in the eye. Coward.

It was only until Kaede left that Akemi found the courage to talk. The bar has grown quieter and the pair hang around the bathroom.

Akemi cocked her head to the side, picking on her wig, it still stuck to her scalp perfectly. “Helen, can I tell you something?” Helen’s eyes were slightly glazed, still trying to appear effortless. “Yeah, sure. Tell me.”

With a pained expression, Akemi tried to look Helen in the eye, through the mirror. Recalling how she saw a hint of fear on Helen’s face when she tried to ask who Akemi was. She wouldn’t have asked me… no matter what I would do, she wouldn’t have asked me.

Letting out a shaky breath, Akemi carefully peeled off her wig, letting her blond locks down. Her sapphire eyes finally showed. Oh, how it glowed with fire.

If she grows to hate me... So be it.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #diabolik lovers oc #dl oc #diabolik oc #akemi sakamaki #sakamaki akemi #helen #sakamaki reiji #reiji sakamaki #laito sakamaki #sakamaki laito

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braveclementine · 5 months ago

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Chapter 11

Warnings: 18+ readers only, teasing, slight stimulation, pet names

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OCs: Elizabeth Silvertongue and Clementine Greenleaf. I also own Clementines' brother Donavan. The following OCs are owned by other Wattpad writers as this is a collaboration project. Their OCs are on the face claim page. I do not condone any copying of this.

For many weeks leading up to October, I would join Bucky and Steve for lunch after working on Sundays, while we slowly went through the Jurassic park movies. They loved hearing my tidbits as we went through Jurassic Park 2 and 3. When we reached Jurassic World however, Steve and Bucky had straightened up in shock.

"Is that Peter?" Steve asked.

"Maybe. . ." Bucky said slowly as though in doubt.

"Peter Quil?" I asked confused. "He's done a handful of movies, why?"

"He's a teacher we work with, that's all." Steve answered quickly. "Although he's more of a substitute so he's not here most of the time."

"Hmm so billionaires and movie stars work at this school. Interesting." I replied lightly, settling in as we watched Owen Grady train the raptors.

"Stars? As in plural?" Bucky asked.

"Oh yeah." I said. "Uh Dean Fury was in a couple of star wars movies, he was in the very first Jurassic park movie, he's been in quite a few movies. It's just a little bit of a surprise that people with so much money and could retire become teachers." Then I grinned, "Or maybe. . . maybe it's a cover. The school is a cover."

Steve looked like a deer in headlights but Bucky chuckled, pulling me closer in a teasing way. "Oh yeah? What sort of cover doll?"

Every single time he called me this nickname I needed to try and get space because I became so aroused. My cheeks burned too, so I knew he had to know he was making me flustered.

"Hmmm," I said thoughtfully. "The mafia?"

Steve chuckled softly and Bucky grinned, "The mafia hmm? You like bad boys like that?"

I was suddenly very confused and flustered, deciding it was better just to ignore him and watch the movies.

I wasn't sure why I had become so comfortable with my teachers, or when it had become so. It felt like it had been instantaneous before I remembered I spent a few weeks thinking Professor Barnes hated me. But that felt like a lifetime ago, not two months.

Bucky chuckled, "She does like bad boys."

"Shut up." I mumbled, biting my bottom lip, focusing solely on the boys arriving to the amusement park. "You'll miss the movie."

But I could feel his smug silence throughout the rest of the movie and when he drove me back to the campus.

I had also started hanging out in a very strange group which consisted of Helen, Ivy, Venus, and Destiny. Most of them had tragic pasts and Venus didn't talk much but whatever had happened to her had rendered her half-human, half-robot/cyborg and always looked like she was hiding something. The other three hadn't really shared their pasts, but from the way they constantly seemed to look around warily, there was definitely trauma.

I had also taken up therapy, which I attended every Friday after classes. I wasn't really sure if the classes were working, but it also felt just a little bit good opening up about some of the things I was feeling.

I had been wrong to an extent. Professor Wilson- or Sam as he was getting me to call him while we were in session- did not tell me things I wanted to hear. His advice was sometimes unappealing, but when followed through, I found it helpful.

And then there was John. After hanging out with him once or twice, despite my bad feelings, I found that he wasn't really bad company. He could even be funny, sometimes making me laugh.

But with all of this, I was barely seeing Clementine. We were both working, studying, and trying to balance social lives. . . but we weren't including each other in our social lives. I had tried to hang out with her friends and she had tried to hang out with mine. But her friends were all science nerds who seemed to go out of their way to make me feel stupid. And my friends were just not the right fit her.

I missed her though and I wondered if now that we were adults, we would grow apart completely.

Halloween started to roll around the corner, and the campus was hosting an outdoor movie night. I'm not sure if they just wanted us to freeze to death since the high was going to be sixty-three, but regardless, it was something the entire campus was talking about.

"Hey." Clementine said as she came into the dorm. I had just finished making a delicious salad with all the meats and stuff, putting it out on the table. I had leftover chicken that Bucky and I had cooked together one of my Saturdays over and had been able to bring home.

"Hey." I said, setting two plates down on the table. "How was class?"

"Good. I was thinking, we should go to the movie thing together. Dress up, ya know?" Clem asked, dropping her bag on the couch, sitting down as we started to eat.

"Any costume ideas?" I asked slowly, knowing that we usually paired outfits, but I wasn't sure if she was going to dress up with her new friend group.

"I was thinking Hololive characters?" Clementine said hesitantly. "What do you think?"

"Sounds adorable." I said slowly, trying to picture a costume in my mind. Gawr Gura would be pretty cute, but I wasn't sure I could pull her off. "Just us or are we including our friends too?"

"Up to you, but I'd like to do just us if you like that." Clementine said.

"Yeah." I smiled, popping a piece of sliced pepperoni into my mouth.

"Great!" Clementine said enthusiastically. "Can't wait to see which character you pick."

Yes, that was the question, wasn't it?

ꨄ︎

I finished braiding my newly dyed hair together, letting the dark strands layer in with the light gray, almost silver strands. Then I stood up, slowly and carefully getting into my outfit. It was a red plaid skirt with a gray sort've corset. It also came with a matching gray. . . almost collar sort've thing with gold edging and red string to tie it together. Clementine had helped me stitch together a slide on jacket with large, frilly sleeves that hid my hands and I had fashioned a hat to match everything. I even popped light red contacts in my eyes to finish the whole thing off.

I wore black stockings that ended above my knees, fitted with black lace, and then wore small school girl shoes. Finally, I stood in the mirror looking like Sakamata Chloe from Hololive.

I smiled and then exited the room to see that Clementine was waiting in the dorm for me. She had debated between Amelia Watson and Sakura Miko, before finally settling in as Houshou Marine.

She hadn't dyed her hair like I had, instead wearing a pink and white wig, with amber contacts in her eyes. She wore a neat little black dress that finished in a tight white collar around her neck. She wore black gloves that traveled mid-way up her arm. I wasn't quite sure what she was wearing around her legs, but she was also wearing school girl shoes.

I grinned, watching her twirl a butterfly knife in her hands. "You look great."

Clementine looked up, eyes lighting up as she saw me, "Oh you look amazing! The hair came out great!"

"Thanks." I said, grinning. "Ready to go?"

"Yes." She said, grabbing the bag of candy to stuff into her purse. I giggled, grabbing the pumpkin candy corns that for me and solely me.

We headed out of the dorm and I immediately felt giddy, seeing everyone else dressed up for Halloween. I had been a little worried that Clem and I might stand out as being too sexy, despite both of us covering up well enough. But my worries were unwarranted. Compared to half of the other girls here, Clem and I were practically the epitome of modesty.

"Let's sit near the back." Clementine suggested as we reached Central Park, the place that the College had set the outdoor movies at. "We can sit near the speakers, and we won't have to crane our necks to see the screen."

"Excellent." I said and we did just that, spreading the blanket out on the ground, making ourselves comfortable. We had even packed a small picnic and Clementine decided to set that up at the moment, pulling out the thermos of hot chocolate.

I pulled out the marshmallows and we made our cups and settled in as the first movie started, which was Nightmare Before Christmas. Then there was The Shining, then Hocus Pocus, which I absolutely loved.

"Hey girls." I heard a voice behind me as Coraline started to play. I looked up to see Professors Rogers, Barnes, and Wilson there.

"Hello Professors." We said together. I couldn't help but rake my eyes over them.

Professor Rogers was dressed as a cowboy, his brown leather vest sleeveless, showing off his rippling muscles. His blue jeans were skin tight, nearly painted on his legs, which showed off his firm thighs and fine ass.

Professor Barnes was dressed as a police officer, his blue cap perched jauntily on his head. The outfit did his thighs wonders, the muscles bulging against the fabric. His fingers played with the handcuffs that were sitting on his belt and as I met his eyes, he raised an eyebrow, lifting them, which just made me redder.

Professor Wilson didn't look half bad either, dressed as Dr. Facilier from the Princess and the Frog.

"You girls look great." Professor Rogers added and I suddenly realized that he'd been looking Clem and I over just as much as I had been looking him over. His cheeks were fairly pink and he quickly sat down next to me. Bucky sat behind the two of us, Professor Wilson taking the other side of Clem.

"Thanks." I mumbled.

"Good enough to eat." Bucky whispered so softly in my ear that I wasn't even sure I'd heard him say anything at all.

"You ever seen this movie before?" Steve asked, motioning to the movie screen. I had forgotten that we were even watching movies.

"A handful of times. Coraline is pretty good." I said. "Want some?" I asked, offering my bag of pumpkin candy corn.

He looked it blankly. "What is it?"

I gasped, "You haven't had candy corn before?"

"Good, don't, it's disgusting." Clementine called over to him, "It's literally just pure sugar and gelatin."

I huffed. "They're delicious. I don't know what you're problem is."

"Disgusting." Clementine muttered.

"You're the one who eats nuts in her candy." I muttered darkly, watching her bite into a snickers. I pretended to hold back vomit and Clementine punched me in the arm.

I placed a pumpkin in Steve's hand and Bucky reached over to pluck one out, both of them popping it into their mouths at the same time. Both of them made puzzled faces as they slowly chewed them over before Steve quickly swallowed his, reaching for his water. Bucky on the other hand, plucked a second one away from me to eat it again.

Just like with the Jurassic Park movies, I found myself getting far to comfortable, leaning against Steve's arm as the movie progressed. I could also feel Bucky moving in behind the two of us, his fingers grazing against my hip lightly.

I completely forgot that it wasn't just the three of us until Clementine coughed next to me. I jumped a little, my body jerking away from both of my Professors. I glanced over discretely to see if she had noticed, and received a shock.

Her head was rested against Professor Wilsons' shoulder, their fingers laced behind their backs on the blanket. I flushed, quickly looking away, placing my own hands in my lap.

I was feeling rather conflicted as Coraline ended and the last movie of the night came on: Pet Semetary. I had read the book and was quite confident that the movie wouldn't be as scary. . . I was wrong. They built the tension just perfectly in the movie and I had to hide my face into Steve's shoulder a fair number of times. And when the old man walked down the stairs slowly, I pressed back into Bucky and then flinched as the girl stabbed him in the ankle with the scissors, a muffled scream against my lips.

Bucky had just chuckled, pulling me into his arms, holding me tightly. I looked around, but no one was near us to care. Sam and Clem were seemingly in their own little world as Sam kissed her shoulder.

It grew colder as the night went on and I shivered, pressing into my brunette professor to gain some warmth. The movie slowly came to an end with a great finale, which I found terrifying, squealing behind clenched teeth that were starting to chatter.

"Should get inside." Steve said, as the wind picked up again. I jerked as the empty candy bag flew away, chasing after it out of instinct, not wanting to litter.

I nearly tripped over my own two feet, before managing to catch it, coming to a stop. Panting, I turned around and realized that I was in the forest bit of Central Park. I walked over to one of the trash cans, putting the bag in, before hearing a group of voices.

Out of instinct, I darted away, hiding behind a tree. It was indeed Clementines' friends, and I was glad that I had hidden, so no one could find me.

Just as I had thought that, a hand was placed over my mouth and I jumped, before relaxing at seeing it was just Professor Barnes.

"You know doll, running off like that, you could get hurt." Bucky whispered darkly in my ear. My breathing had slowed down now, shallow, anticipating what was going to happen next.

"Just didn't want to litter." I squeaked out.

"There's so many bad people out at night." He continued, his hands on my hips now, his knee moving slowly between my leg. I had never been touched by a man like this and my heart was pounding. Heat seemed to be gathering between my legs in an unfamiliar way. I hoped he couldn't feel it the way I could.

"G- good thing you're here then." I managed to say.

"Oh doll, I am one of those bad boys." I felt metal around my wrists as he closed the handcuffs around them, lifting the chain so that I was on my tiptoes, resting it on a branch above my head, pushing it back far enough so that I couldn't free myself. "But, something tells me," He pushed his knee into my core harder, "You like bad boys."

Our lips were inches apart, his blue eyes reflected in the moonlight. I felt dazed, my throat dry from the sweets and nothing to drink, eyelids tired, but adrenaline was coursing through my veins now.

"Buck?" Steve's voice broke through the air, breaking the spell and shame swelled inside of me. How could I have possibly even harbored this fantasy, how could I have even thought of humoring this, when Steve was Bucky's husband? How could Bucky do such a thing to Steve, when they said that they loved each other so much? "Bucky?"

"Right here Steve." Bucky purred, calling out. "I hope you're alone."

I couldn't understand why Bucky wasn't trying to get out of this compromising situation.

I heard Steve chuckle and say, "What are you up to punk?" I could hear his footsteps, crunching on the stiff grass as he came around the tree, stopping as he saw the two of us. Bucky ran his fingers across my chin, gripping my jaw so that I was forced to look at Steve. I could see his eyes, which darkened, a grin spreading across his face.

And I understood.

They were both in on it.

I was suddenly drenched and Bucky chuckled, slowly moving his knee in circles, stimulating something so that small waves of pleasure seemed to shoot through my body from my core, down to my toes, and up to my head.

"You look good princess." Steve purred, before coming to stand at the side of the tree, so he was behind me, and so he could whisper right into my ear. "Wanted to punch every guy that looked at you. You're to sexy in this outfit for your own good. This skirt makes your adorable little ass look so round and perfect."

I couldn't breathe. Steve didn't even like people using 'hell' or 'shit' in class. How could he be talking like this?

"You need to say something doll." Bucky whispered.

My brain finally caught up with what was happening. Before I could even stop myself, or deliver it in a different fashion, the words just slipped out of my mouth:

"I don't believe in sex outside of marriage."

My heart dropped out of my chest as they both took a step back. I closed my eyes, sighing, "Sorry. I-I-"

"Hey." Steve murmured softly, cupping my cheek. "That's alright Elizabeth. You don't have to worry, okay? We understand. Hell, that's a belief I've had for the longest time except-"

"You're already married." I grinned, glad that he was alright with it.

"No worries doll." Bucky kissed my cheek anyways. "Let me get you down."

"Sorry." I mumbled again.

"No. It's good you told us before we took it to a place you'd regret. That would be worse." Steve reassured me.

Suddenly, I thought I heard a familiar voice and I frowned. Steve went to speak again, but I held up my hands, since they were still cuffed together. They both fell silent and I listened hard.

". . . doing here?" Clementines' voice was angry.

"Happy Halloween sister."

"Get them off Buck, now!" I ordered, voice sharp and cold. The adrenaline was back, but this time it felt like I had a bucket of cold ice thrown over me. Bucky didn't hesitate, unlocking the handcuffs with a trick motion and I didn't look back as I sprinted in the direction of the voices.

"CLEMENTINE!" I shouted as I came to a fork in the path.

"Elizabeth?" Clementine's voice came from my left and I sprinted in that direction, skidding to a stop when I saw Donavan there.

"Well hello there Lizzy." Donavan grinned, dimples showing in both cheeks as he smiled. "Did you miss me?"

Bonus:

(Admittedly though, the Steve in my story is before he got the beard and still has the much lighter blond hair. But this was pretty hot so. . .)

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