#by beating them up and/or kidnapping and killing them (by drowning them in a river)

[incorrectfatui]

Peruere: *writing a letter*  Peruere: Dear Santa,  I'm writing to let you know I've been naughty...  And it was worth it you fat, judgemental bastard.

[biggukuma]

Theo Reaken’s goal was to become an alpha. To have a pack.

And if he wanted to have a pack because it rhymed with safety and protection.

What if he and Tara were just a sister and a brother in the middle of a toxic home. A sister and a brother terrified to come home.

What if Theo meets a strange person with a disfigured face who promises him and his sister could leave their house and never see their parents again. That they will be protected and safe.

And for that, Theo has to help them. Let him help them raise an old friend.

What if Tara was using different jobs to earn enough money so that she and her little brother could leave Beacon Hills but Theo didn’t know it.

And if this strange person with his two equally strange and a slightly terrifying friends told him that to help them, he had to kill his older sister Tara.

What if Theo initially refused because it’s his big sister. He refuses to lose her.

And if these three people, doctors had they said they were, took him to their top secret workplace and showed him that magic exists. There was a man on the table, cold and stiff. They injected him with a needle. And the man woke up. With huge fangs and super-speed. Like a vampire.

What if Tara loves vampires.

What if she loved Twilight and had once told Theo, while they were watching the movies, that she would like to be Bella Swan to have a little piece of Edward’s faceted ball.

And if Theo hadn’t fully understood that sentence, except that Tara would want to be a vampire.

What if Mom and Dad always said they were bad severe for their own good.

What if killing Tara was for her own good? The doctors will turn her into a vampire and she’ll be happy. They will find a pack, a kind of family that would never harm one of their own, explained a werewolf in the doctor’s office. ( the Werewolf wanted to bite him when he realized that Theo would not open his barred door to him despite answering his questions. The Doctors warned him that the werewolf was bad.) They’ll find a pack and they’ll be safe, away from Mom and Dad. It’ll be okay. The Doctors promised it.

And if when Tara reaches out her hands and calls Theo as the cold of the river numbs her limbs, slows down the beating of her heart, Theo takes them and pushes them back towards her and tells her that everything will be fine, that Theo would find a good home for them, that he just had to help the Doctors find a friend of theirs.

And if Tara wanted to scream at these three shadows behind her little brother to leave him alone and at Theo to get away from them.

And if her tongue was frozen. That she could not utter a word. Except:

Theo. Theo. Theo.

And if when Tara sinks, the memory of all her savings hidden in her room for Theo and her was frozen on her retina.

What if the Doctors had taken Tara’s heart but her body was kept in the lab, waiting for Theo to finish his work.

And if, when Theo returns to Beacon Hills to do his work to resuscitate his sister, to find safety and peace, he would come face to face with his parents.

What if for this work, he had to go back to his old life. As if the teeth and nails removed, flesh and eyes ripped out, blood shed and broken bones had never existed. Like Tara never existed.

What if they said Tara had been drowned by accident and the Reaken had left, unable to stay in this city because of the heavy grief.

What if the Doctors kidnapped Mr and Mrs Reaken after Tara died.

And if they had already planned everything since they had seen this little boy on this sad swing, his nose bleeding, his eye swollen and blue.

What if Theo hadn’t seen his parents since Tara died.

What if he knew the Doctors kept them away from him so he wouldn’t be distracted from preparing for his work.

And if, when he finally sees them again, it is in his childhood home, ready to do his work, find his sister and finally find safetyandpeace and he shakes, shakes, shakes under the tones of dark memories embedded in the fucking wood.

What if he knew that in front of him were not his parents but doppelgangers created by the Doctors for the good of this job.

What if he didn’t care and Theo just wanted to make them cry as much as their faces made him and his sister cry.

What if, when the Doctors die, Tara’s frozen corpse gets stuck in their two-dimensional cabinet.

What if, in the end, Theo had never managed to resurrect his sister, or find a pack.

What if, in the end, Theo was just alone.

(Sorry for the possible spelling mistakes. English isn't my native language. Aaaand my pen is already weird in French. Soooo... sorry.

I'm pretty sure this idea was already said but I wanted still to share this theory that my friend and I thought. We haven't checked if this theory is near canon, so if we pick out something, doesn't hesitate to tell me. Tumblr is made to exchange ! )

[kitchenisking]

November Fic Rec

Hello amazing people! Hope everyone is doing well! Enjoy the rec, remember to send love to out authors! ❤️

you break the mountain down by runphoebe - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 10655, sterek)

Stiles is pretty sure that it’s not normal to have a sexual awakening six years into a relationship. He’s pretty sure that’s supposed to happen at the beginning and not, you know, after you already have a mortgage together.

Stiles and Derek have been together for six years when Stiles graduates from college and moves back to Beacon Hills.

5 Times Derek and Stiles Proved They Were Mates + 1 Time They Celebrated It bystarrrdusttt - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 10747, sterek)

The pack had slowly settled around each other and had gained a rhythm, and Derek’s wolf every time had yipped around Stiles asking Derek to bite and claim him and every single time he had to remind his wolf to settle down. So yes Derek knows it wasn't going to be easy, especially since he can't just act as all those stupid Alphas Stiles hates so much and ravish Stiles, no matter how much he wanted to and It wasn’t Stiles fault that he appealed so much to Derek but maybe it was. He was just so good. Not only in a cute annoying way but also, putting others before him way. It made Derek yearn for him and question how someone could be so good?

Derek really needed to get his shit together.

Keep Yourself Warm by kilaem - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 71733, sterek)

Stiles is twenty seven. 

He has a job he loves as a supernatural consultant, he has a family who means the world to him, and a werewolf husband who he can’t imagine his life without. Stiles is twenty seven and married, and he loves his husband. His marriage is fine.

Most of the time. Actually even that’s an overstatement.

His marriage isn’t fine.

Shifts by gryvon - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 15077, sterek)

Stiles has what he's always secretly wanted - he's in a relationship with Derek and he's one of Derek's betas - but all that gets turned upside down when Gerard kidnaps him and his unexpected baby.

Once In A Full Moon by asarcasticwitch - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4199, sterek)

Underneath the twinkling spark of teasing, he notices something akin to hope mixing with the maddening kaleidoscope of green, a pleading edge to the usual Alpha confidence radiating from him.

Derek wants this just as much as he does. 

I'm Here by princesstigerlily - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3740, sterek)

Stiles has trouble dealing with the darkness. He and Derek discover that lots of good sex can keep the darkness at bay. Derek is more than happy to help.

A Broken Pack by AlexTheShipper - (Rating: T, Words: 4921, sterek)

When the Pack decides to kick Stiles out, they lose their alpha as well. When they're in trouble. And forced to call for help, Little Red comes to save them.

Drown Me with Kisses by LadySlytherin - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 19427, sterek)

When a rusalka in the preserve nearly kills Stiles with a kiss, Stiles is in grave danger any time he’s near a source of water - not just rivers, lakes, and oceans, but pools, bathtubs, the shower, a sink full of water - you put water in it, and it could probably kill Stiles now. Deaton’s advice? Break the rusalka’s magic with a kiss of opposite power - love to beat out death.

Build A Wolf by PalenDrome (nerdherderette) - (Rating: T, Words: 5798, sterek)

Derek is a romantic. He dreams of finding his mate, of connecting with that special someone who will make his heart swoon.

[Excerpt]: "Who says I need to be in a relationship to be happy?" Derek asks, his hackles rising. Besides, Boyd has it all wrong. Derek has Die Hard on his Christmas queue.

Yippee ki yay.

Boyd holds up both hands. "Not me. If you want to be a bachelor forever, I'm not one to judge."

"But I am," Erica says. "You don't date anymore. Hell, when's the last time you even got laid? Which would also be fine, except it's not, because you're miserable and it's obvious that's not what you really want."

Sometimes Derek has a hard time following Erica's logic. Unfortunately, this is not one of those moments. 

"It doesn't matter," he says, digging the excess rice out from his wrap. "I'm better off alone."

Five Times Detective Stilinski and Fire Captain Hale Had Sex In Public, and One Time They Did It In A Bed by bleep0bleep - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 32853, sterek)

"Did you say--" Stiles starts.

"What?" Derek growls.

"We're not a couple!" they both retort in unison.

"We're not together," Stiles insists.

Lydia coughs pointedly. "An incident report filed by 87th Precinct Captain Erica Reyes. March twenty-fifth, eight p.m. Came back to the precinct to grab my coat, only to hear Stilinski banging his new boyfriend in the holding cell."

[limitlessscion]

@drippingheart companion post to this awful scene to make it verse canon

Everything was blank but for an overwhelming sensation that flooded the emptiness where there was once pain. He didn't know what it was, but it was debilitating. It coursed through every sense, sent phantom shivers through an unresponsive body, clamped vices around a heart without a beat, flooded a fading brain with further paralysis. Every struggling neural connection was quieted by something primal, something that was not capable of thinking and could only try to scream.

When he was six, in the aftermath of a kidnapping in which he'd killed his abductors, his guard had asked him a question he'd found absurd: were you scared?

He was scared now. In this moment Satoru Gojo understood fear and much more— it was pure undiluted terror. He was going to die. He'd been cracked open and drowned in his own blood, the muscles that drew breath torn to bloody ribbons alongside lungs, leg destroyed so that he could only crumple onto the ground with violent force. When the agony abruptly ceased with a sharp pressure in his head, the fear had only intensified; he understood his fading connection to the world.

Soon, within an instant, even those thoughts disappeared. There was only fear— fear and something drilled into him beyond instinct, more a reflex than a thought:

Fix this.

There was something purifying about that one single emotion drowning out all else, pouring itself into that desperate reflex carved into his very being; do not allow failure to sit; wield pain as nothing more than a tool to shore up the weakness that had caused it; this is nothing more than another obstacle to be overcome; Fix this. He did not think. He did not try. The final sparks of life smoldering within his skull had no capacity for such things: it only knew to act.

Faint strands of cursed energy twisted around each other, and trickles of reverse cursed energy was brought into existence. It was so faint and small in quantity that it could barely keep up with the rupturing of cell walls as acidity rose in the absence of oxygen. Neurons were reconstructed one by one, refolding proteins, putting lipids back into place, ripped connections re-established. It was slow, but it was enough to keep that tiny spark lit.

Momentum built up, the microscopic trickle of reversed curse energy joining to form to stream. A river. A finger twitched, more a spasm of muscle fibres being remade than any active motion. Pain once again flooded his senses, not the pain of being ripped apart but that of being reconstructed and pieced together with a ruthless brutality that never laced Shoko's energy even at her most furious. The fear was fading and with every inch it gave ground it was flooded by the pain, but something about that was distant. Like watching someone else's agony from afar.

He understood it then; the true nature of cursed energy, of the usage of cursed energy. It was all so simple.

He was warm, strong arms holding his fragile body tight. His face tickled with the gentle motions of hair. Apologies were sobbed into his bloody shoulder. It was comforting even as every motion sent pain, jostled and broke strands of healing that had to be re-established.

His heart started beating once more.

The flow of cursed energy was now a flood, his brain fully revived, his circulation revived as lost blood was replaced to fill repaired vessels. The air reeked of cursed energy, his own residuals growing rancid in the puddle of spilled blood and Suguru's clinging to the dried crimson stiffening his clothes. Nerves snapped back into place and suddenly he could see again, his eyes still open, and in the same instant he took a massive, shuddering breath as diaphragms contracted for the first time in....minutes? Hours? He had no idea how long it had been.

He curled up and rolled over, wheezing and hacking with little regard for the already ruined clothes between them, spitting up blood and bile and bloody chunks of the remains of organs and bones that had been caught in his digestive tract and airways as he clung to Suguru for support. When finally the vomiting and coughing stopped, he found himself on his knees, his body shaking with exertion and adrenaline. The sounds were agonizing, his motions unpleasant and the gory sight horrifying— but for Satoru it was all mechanical.

When he turned to look at his friend, his face was a serene blank. He couldn't feel anything; his body hurt but he didn't. He blinked rapidly for a moment, raising a dirty bloodied hand to rub against it without thinking.

"Hey Suguru, I think I got some of your hair stuck in my eye."

[itsthesinbin]

The Monster, Moreau (Salvatore Moreau/Reader)

FINALLY GOT IT DONE!!!!

If you like my work, reblog it!

Warnings: Mentions of (canon-typical) violence, drowning, and pneumonia.

Reader is mentioned to be wearing a sleeping gown at one point, but reader is gender neutral.

Read it on Ao3 as well!

Word Count: 3.9k

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You were told never to go to the reservoir. A monster lives there, they said. Lord Moreau would kidnap and kill you, they said. The man was a horrid, disgusting creature, they said. Maybe you were curious, maybe you were stupid. Maybe you were both. You needed to get food, and you were craving fish. Your favorite fishing spot just happened to be near the reservoir.

Maybe you’d see the Monster Moreau for yourself.

You slipped away at night, knowing the silence would draw out more fish. The constant hustle and bustle of the village made fishing hard during the day. That’s what you told yourself, anyway. It was a thinly veiled excuse to search for the monster of the reservoir. You’d end up like the others that disappeared up here, everyone was sure. Your fascination- obsession some would say- would kill you.

Eh. You’d be fine.

You decided to use the old rowboat that was down by the village’s old, unused dock. Not as fast as the newer motor-powered boats available, but much easier to slip away in. Not a single light or candle lit up as you made your escape to the reservoir, carrying only a small amount of fishing supplies, and your old sidearm that you kept for emergencies.

You pulled your coat closer around you as you made your way further down the river, shivering as a breeze caused a biting chill to go through you. A sense of dread washed over you as you officially entered Lord Moreau’s domain. Surely, everything you heard were just stories. People went missing out here due to drowning. Animals. Maybe the occasional Lycan, not that there had been an attack for a while. You’d be fine. Mother Miranda would protect you, just as she protected the rest of the village.

You put your oars back in the boat, grabbing your pole and bait to prep the line. You heard the stray crow caw above your head, but it sounded… off. Too deep. Too distorted. Your hands slowed as that sense of dread washed over you once again. You swallowed the lump in your throat, daring to bring your gaze up from the tackle box. You didn’t spot any birds in the sky. Movement on the windmills drew your eye, however.

A group of Samce. Seemingly sleeping. You had no idea if they were watching you or not. You should have guessed Samce and Lycans would sit around the reservoir, since they wouldn’t be bothered by humans. The water surrounding you rippled slightly, making your boat bob. You were too panicked by the Samce to wonder why the previously-still waters began to stir.

Slowly, you put your fishing supplies back down and retrieved your oars instead. One of the Samce began to move, its leathery wings flapping as it jumped to take flight. You forced your breathing to calm as you began to row back to the reservoir’s exit.

The creature’s allies followed shortly, all of them screeching and cawing as they began to make their way to you. You fumbled with the oars, before trying to row away as fast as you could. Curse your stupid choice to sneak out of the village. Maybe if you had taken the motorized boat, people would know you left AND you’d be able to escape the Samce. You screamed when one swooped down toward you. You picked up an oar, whacking it with all your might. It screeched in response, backing away enough for you to get your pistol. It wasn’t much, but it’d have to work.

Of course, it could only work if you hit your targets. You weren’t that good of a shot, emptying a whole clip only to hit two bullets total. The water jostled you again, nearly sending you overboard. You gripped the side of the boat, dropping your pistol into the murky waters. You choked back a panicked sob, grabbing an oar to try and beat back the creatures again. It was futile, you knew. These things can take bullets without stopping. How can one measly tailor beat them off with an oar?

The oar was ripped from your grasp, adding insult to injury. The Samce seemed to pause for a millisecond, but it was long enough for you to hear the water rushing to your left. Your head whipped around, seeing a massive creature swimming toward your boat. The sobs you were holding back bubbled over, only to be silenced as your boat was overturned by the grotesque monster that jumped out of the water.

You were submerged instantly, your whole body seizing due to the freezing waters. You couldn’t move. Your body felt like ice, almost like it’d crack into pieces as you continued to sink. Swim. You needed to swim. Why couldn’t you swim? You were going to drown.

Instead of swimming, you instinctively gasped. Your body finally moved, only to claw at your chest in a panic as water entered your lungs. You were going to die here, because your body wouldn’t listen to you.

As your vision went black, you felt yourself being dragged toward the surface. The last thing you saw was the tar-like blood of the Samce staining the water and the body parts strewn about. A deep gurgling noise filled your ears as you passed out.

You would wake up a few times, frantic and feverish and gasping for air. The only thing you really remembered from those times was a deep voice, and clammy hands with a soft touch. The gentle hands would have to push you back into bed. You’d try to apologize if you vomited, but the voice would just shush you and clean you up as if they weren’t phased by it at all. In the dim light of wherever you were, you couldn’t make out more than a dark mass that hobbled back and forth before you passed back out.

You didn’t know what time, or day, it was when you finally woke up for good. You coughed, your chest aching with a sharp pain that left you wheezing. You were wracked with trembles, and sweating under the large, musty blanket that was draped over you. Everything felt damp, but you had no idea if it was from your sweat or not.

You heard a door creak open as you attempted to sit up, a wheeze leaving you just from the effort. Someone shuffled over quickly, dropping a tray on the old bedside table. Those familiar, clammy hands returned to your cheeks and you sighed in relief.

“No good,” the unknown man muttered, “the fever is still too high…” You turned your head to look at him, but he gripped your jaws in one of his hands instead. He eased your mouth open, sticking a spoonful of something absolutely foul into your mouth. You would have spit it out if he didn’t force you to swallow it. You coughed when he finally released you, blinking the blurriness from your eyes away so you could finally see your savior.

The man was horribly hunched and covered by an old, ragged robe from head to toe. Webbed hands crushed some pills and stirred them into the glass of water on the tray. There was a bowl of water as well with a cloth hanging out of it, and some plain crackers alongside it all. When he finally turned to you, glass in hand, you felt your heart stop for a moment.

His skin was a mottled gray, stringy hair hanging around his face. His beady eyes stared up at you and his wide lips were parted to show off sharp, misshapen teeth. You could faintly hear his own wheezing alongside your own. The man held the glass out to you.

“Can you handle it on your own?” You swallowed, your throat feeling like broken glass was lodged in it, as you reached for the glass. Despite the tremble in your hands, you were able to take the glass without issue and start to sip on it. You could vaguely taste the medicine that was stirred into it, but it didn’t bother you as bad as the first liquid you were forced to swallow.

The malformed man wrung out the rag, reaching up to dab at your forehead and temples. Eventually, he set the rag on the back of your neck to try and cool you down. As you drank, he removed the blanket to expose you to the chilly air. You shivered, nearly spilling the water in the process. He shuffled off, simply dropping the blanket onto the floor as he went to a small linen closet in search of a new one.

You looked down, seeing that you were in a simple sleeping gown. It was way too large for you, but better than your surely water-logged clothes from the night you… almost drowned. You finished off the water as the man returned. He draped a new blanket over your legs. It was drier, but still smelled of mildew and algae. You must still be near the reservoir.

“... How… did I get here?” You flinched at the sound, and feel, of your own voice. Rough to hear and use. The man paused, hands still settled over where your knees would be. He fiddled with a stray thread, almost nervous, as he seemed to think about his answer.

“I… found you, floating. Brought you to… my home. You needed help.” He looked up at you again, almost looking like a kicked puppy. You leaned back against the pillows, grunting slightly at the shift in position. He pulled his hands away from you, faster than he probably meant to, before going to take the damp blanket away. You took hesitant bites of a cracker, knowing you needed to eat something without anyone telling you.

“How long have I been here,” you asked as he returned. He set another tray on a small desk nearby, this time carrying a scuffed kettle and chipped tea cups. He hummed slightly, waddling over to your bedside to put a cup down for you. After the smell of water and algae and mildew, the scent of the tea was divine. You took a small sip, relieved as it soothed your throat. There must have been honey in it.

“Nearly five days. I… didn’t think you would make it, during the first two,” he admitted, wringing his hands nervously. The man pulled a stool over, sitting next to your bedside like an attentive partner. He sipped his drink with just as much anxiety, not looking you in the eye.

“And what should I call my savior?” He seemed to freeze, eyes darting to the sides in a small panic. A wide tongue slipped over his lips nervously.

“... Moreau. Salvatore Moreau.” You stared at him. Moreau, the Lord of the reservoir. You were surprised people were telling the truth about the deformities. You simply thought those were an over exaggeration due to fear and hatred. After all this time, you were face to face. At his mercy. In his home.

The monster, Moreau, had saved your life.

“I would bow, Lord Moreau, but I am… unable to, at the moment,” you half joked. You had hoped he didn’t expect anything of you. You could barely talk without tiring yourself out. The man let out a wet huff. You couldn’t tell if he was amused or not.

“I didn’t… expect you to. You need rest.” He hesitated, before reaching out to give your knee a comforting pat. You grumbled softly, but couldn’t deny you were already exhausted just from this small exchange. You set your tea cup down with a sigh, and then a cough. Moreau stood to take the cup before it got knocked over.

“Eat what you can, and then sleep. You need to recover.” The nervous tone to his voice was gone, replaced with a stern professionalism. The man knew his medicine- perhaps he was a doctor, before he became a Lord of the village.

“Before you go, Lord Moreau… Thank you for saving my life. Is there… anything I can do to repay you?” The man shuffled back to the tray with the kettle, setting your near-empty cup down.

“Live. That is… That is what you can do. Now rest.” With that, he made his way out. You watched him go until he shut the door behind him. You nibbled on another cracker, before you ultimately fell asleep with the food in your hand.

As the days passed, you slowly began to recover. Moreau forced you to stay in bed until your fever broke completely. You still wheezed and your chest pain spiked with your coughing fits, but you began to feel better. You could stomach full meals and drink tea for fun instead of for a sore throat.

Moreau left you alone, for the most part. He’d drop off meals, check your temperature and health, and then leave you with a book or two to keep you occupied. You would be lying if you said you weren’t getting restless. You could only read for so long before you wanted to throw the books into the meager fireplace nearby.

One day, you felt well enough to stand and walk around. Now that the fever had fully broken, you realized just how cold the place was. Living here, you were used to the cold of course, but being so close to the water and away from the sun… It was enough to make you sick once again, even with the fire going.

You pulled the blanket around yourself as you stood, carefully making your way out of the room. The faint voices down the hall drew you further into the rickety old hall. The voices were laced with a tinge of static, you realized as you entered a new room. It was much smaller, containing an old stool and rocking chair, an ancient television… and Moreau. He was enthralled by some movie playing, not even noticing that you had entered the room. Seemed to be a romance, from the heartfelt monologue the man was giving and the way he was holding his companion.

You were going to leave silently, but you happened to breathe wrong and went into a coughing fit. Moreau jumped, nearly falling off of his stool to pause the old vhs and turn to you. You wheezed a little, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. The two of you stared at each other for a long moment, silently waiting for the other to break first. Eventually, you made the first move.

“I… was getting lonely, and restless. Do you… mind if I join you, Lord Moreau?” The man seemed to be stunned by your question- by you moving further into the room, toward the rocking chair. He fumbled over his words for a moment, before coughing a little himself.

“You want to… spend time with me?” Moreau sounded startled. Almost scared of the answer you’d give. Maybe you were still clouded by your illness-tinted glasses, but you didn’t see why people called him a monster. In looks, perhaps. He certainly wasn’t the most pleasing creature to look at. Certainly this man couldn’t be the reason people disappeared up here.

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t want to,” you answered, taking a seat in the rocking chair. Moreau was quiet, fiddling with the tattered robe he wore, before hurrying off somewhere. He got out a quick “I’ll be right back” as he passed you. You could tell the man was flustered, and it sent a different kind of pain through your chest. How long had it been since he’d had a guest? Clearly this place wasn’t cleaned or kept up with the intention of holding get-togethers. How long had he been alone out here?

Moreau came back, setting down a small platter and a new cup. The cup had some kind of fresh juice, and the platter held more of the cured meats, cheeses, and breads that he had been eating on before. He set them on an ancient table between you two, with the cup closer to you. You gave him a quiet thank you, allowing him to start the movie again while you took a sip of the apple juice.

You and Moreau ate in silence- well, as silent as he could be. Due to the deformations of his mouth he tended to chew with his mouth open a bit. You could excuse it, in this situation.

“Now that I’m… feeling better, and more lucid,” you started, putting down your piece of bread. “I was wondering if there was anything I could do, Lord Moreau.” Moreau was silent, finishing off the food in his mouth with a small clearing of the throat. He shifted in his seat, the hump of his back seemingly swaying by itself with the action.

“... I could… use someone to help with some of… of the simple chores,” he mumbled, almost hesitant to bring it up. “I can’t… do certain things…” His back must have kept him from doing some basic things. You were fine with that. You nodded, before he subtly pushed the platter toward you again.

“It can… It can wait, though. You still need to recover. We can… worry about when… when you stop wheezing.” You wanted to protest, but his point was proven when you inhaled too hard and went into another coughing fit. He hummed in response, as if he was expecting it. He hauled himself up, grabbing a bottle and dumping two pills into your hand. You grumbled slightly, much to his amusement, as you took the medicine.

“As… As I was saying.” His tone of voice was nervous, but you could tell he was trying to make a joke. You huffed, good naturedly, and leaned back in the rocking chair. You pushed yourself back and forth with your foot gently, falling into a pleasant silence with the Lord of the reservoir as the movie played on. You ended up dozing off in the chair, much to Moreau’s amusement.

The days continued like this, but with the addition of you assisting Moreau with some simple chores. You’d help him out by washing and hanging clothes to dry- your own and his- and helping him make meals. Peeling vegetables and fruits was harder than it seemed when you had webbed hands, apparently. Some days you’d still get too winded to do much more than sit and peel a handful of potatoes. Other days you felt well enough to join him on his trips to The Duke to help him carry things back home. He bought you anything you stared at for a moment too long, to your embarrassment. The Duke would always chuckle, though, with a subtle glint in his eye as he looked at you two.

After nearly a month and a half, you were back to your old self. You still went into coughing fits from time to time, and would get slightly winded, but you weren’t nearly as pained or fatigued as you were before. Moreau still continued to give you medicine for the cough, even if you insisted that you didn’t need it. He couldn’t be dissuaded though.

On a late night, where you two were watching an old copy of Beauty and the Beast, the thought of returning home finally struck you. You slowly stopped your rocking, wondering why you hadn’t thought about returning sooner. People were surely worried, and probably thought you had died like they said you would. How would you explain your nearly two month long disappearance? Hey, I found Lord Moreau and he’s kind of just a huge goober?

“Is something wrong?” Moreau had heard the chair stop creaking and realized you weren’t paying attention to the movie. You jolted a little, being brought back from your thoughts, to see the Lord staring up at you from his tiny little stool. You fiddled with the blanket in your lap as you thought.

“I was… thinking I might have overstayed my welcome, at this point,” you admitted. You saw Moreau’s face fall slightly as you continued.

“I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Lord Moreau, but… You surely have more important things to do than to continue to care for me-.” He suddenly stood, much faster than you thought he could move. He moved toward your side, almost grasping your arm but stopping inches from your skin. Moreau drew his hands back quickly, wringing them nervously instead.

“You don’t- You don’t need to leave! I’ve… enjoyed having company, and… and you still need to recover,” he said, tripping over his words as he tried to find reasons for you to stay. You watched him for a moment, before reaching out and grabbing his hand. He froze completely, simply looking at your joined hands. You couldn’t help but smile slightly. The man just wanted a companion. It was a coincidence that you dropped into his home, but… Seemed like you were meant to come here, eventually.

“I… suppose I can stay, if the Lord Moreau requests it.” He swallowed thickly. His trembling, webbed fingers wrapped around your own. Slowly, he looked back up at you.

“Call… Call me Salvatore. Please?” Well, how could you deny such a polite request?

So you stayed. You thought about home, vaguely, every now and then. You hoped your neighbors checked on your chickens and took them in. You had no other housemates or pets to worry about, so you hoped your neighbors made use of what you left behind. Although, you suspiciously found your things slowly making their way into your current bedroom. You didn’t bring it up to Mor- Salvatore, not wanting to embarrass him.

You spent your days helping him keep his home as clean as possible, and the nights helping him with dinner and watching the next movie of choice. You noticed a recurring motif when he picked Beauty and the Beast more often than should be healthy. You kept the observation to yourself, however.

A monster lives in the reservoir, the villagers said. The Lord Moreau was a horrid, disgusting, depraved creature that would kidnap and kill you- or worse. Maybe you’d find your death in the reservoir’s waters. Maybe you’d find yourself at the mercy of the monster living there. No one ever returned from the reservoir alive.

You thought of the old warnings and legends as you sat on one of the docks near The Duke’s current shop set-up. Salvatore sat at your side, sharing a basket of fresh fruit with you. The Duke was nice enough to part with a bottle of wine and a brand new glass set for cheap, as well. You knew Salvatore had done some horrible things- you found his notes on the Cadou experiments while cleaning one day. He could have easily turned you into one of his experiments without your knowledge, but he nursed you back to health instead.

You never even saw anything in his home that would lead you to think he’d do such a thing to you. Maybe trusting him was stupid. Maybe you should run and never look back, but the idea of leaving him… It hurt more than the thought of dying at the hands of the Samce all those weeks ago. You couldn’t help but reach over and hold his clammy, webbed hand as you thought about it. Salvatore jolted, dropping his strawberry into the water for the fish to pick at. He grumbled, begrudgingly grabbing another strawberry while giving you a joking side-eye. You couldn’t help but smile.

No one ever returned from the reservoir, they would say. As you sat with Salvatore, your smile widened a touch. It was still true, to this day. You’d never see the village again, and you were content with that fact. As long as you had the monster, Moreau, to keep you company.

[thebadboyfanclub]

The Dream (Geralt x Reader)

Do I have other requests I need to write? Yes, however if I didn’t get this off my system I can’t focus on anything else, so here it goes. Enjoy!

T.W This is my interpretation of nymphs, I don’t want to hear if it’s accurate or not.

Being a Naiads nymph meant to be in tune with nature and water, maintain the peace and harmony with the river, protect it and worship it like it deserved and anyone would pity the man that harmed the rivers and lakes that are protected by them. However the ones that respected it meant that they would in the nymphs good graces, to drink of the water of the naiads river meant to be inspired, madmen, barbs and prophets had told a plethora of stories about the enchanting delicate nymphs.

(Y/n) loved her place in this world, her sisters and the other creatures lived a peaceful life, yet something was missing. A lot of them had witnessed some couples that found sanctuary near the water and had seen them intertwine and let the fiery passion take over them, oh to be in love and worshipped.

“Geralt you might be all indestructible and all but your blood is staining roach”

The lively barb joked loudly enough for the nymphs' to hear. Without even discussing it they all took cover and hid as quickly as they possibly could, of course the humans were aware of the nymphs existence, nonetheless the cruel ones have been known to try and kidnap or harass them.

Geralt was feeling the pain from the wound get more and more intense and it was just his luck that he had just ran out of healing potions, he did not expect that vicious creature to be such a fighter. Dawn was slowly approaching and was hot on their trail, they wouldn’t make it to the next village before dark and thieves could be waiting for them.

“Fine, we stop here”

“Excellent, at least we can wash on the water”

“Don’t even go near, naiads are guarding the water”

“Naiads? What is that?”

“Nymphs fool”

“Nymphs?! Oh it must be my birthday, I heard they are the most beautiful of creatures”

The childlike Jaskier claimed happily, as Geralt got down from his horse and neatly tied it on the tree he wished to have never showed kindness to the annoyingly optimist barb that was calling the nymphs and was taking off his shoes to jump in the crystal clear river. Geralt was just on time to grab him from the collar mid air and pull him back to ground, Jaskier misstopping and falling down on his back with a thud.

“What was that for?”

“You fool, you have to ask them permission and let them show themselves or else they will drown you”

“That’s not very nice of them now isn’t it?”

“Don’t make me throw you in the water Barb”

As nightfall completely took over (y/n) watched them from afar, hiding behind the bushes and half of her face out of it to take a good look at the two men, specifically the white hair muscular man. She could smell his blood, he was severely wounded and tired, her little heart was starting to beat faster every time he spoke with that deep voice

“Sister, get back here, they could be dangerous”

“He respected our river sister, he respects us”

“He is a witcher, he kills creatures”

“Harmful creatures, he protects us from dangerous beasts”

“Don’t tell me you have gotten interested in a mutant”

Her blond hair sister questioned  (y/n). Her sisters were all aware of her desire to fall in love, to be like the couples, she had the chance to marry demi gods yet she raised her nose to them and denied herself, she wanted nothing to do with those stuck up pesky little men.

“He is hurt”

“He will survive it’s what they do... fine, stay here and watch”

And that’s what she did, stayed and watched them slowly drift off to blissful slumber. That is when she got the brilliant idea, she would help him, heal him, he had respected her grounds, saved his mortal friend from punishment, he deserved her help. 

She approached them silently and swiftly through the other side of the river, her breath getting uneven the closer she got to him, he looked so handsome from afar, he was even more perfect when she got next to him. His hand was over his wound on his stomach, a nasty deep slice that looked like it had just stopped bleeding not even moments ago, his face was not peaceful, his brows were furrowed and he would let a groin from time to time, even at his sleep the cut was torturing him

As she gently took his hand off the wound she placed hers over it, feeling the power run through her delicate fingers and to his body.

“Who are-”

“Shhhh, I’m not here to harm you, I mean no harm”

Her voice was like sweet honey to his ears, you can imagine his surprise when he felt a hand to his body and opened his eyes to meet an ethereal creature, her hair fell so effortlessly in her face, yet her eyes pierced his soul, those hues that showed such kindness and purity that lived in her, her sweet smile that made those perfectly shaped lips of hers curl could be the source of the sweetest nectar anyone in this world would ever taste. Her skin glistered under the moonlight, she was an angel sent for him in his dream.

“Rest witcher, you are safe here”

She couldn’t resist anymore, her hand almost acted on its own when she reached to caress his cheek with the back of her fingers, slowly and gently. His hot skin made hers crave more than just a once in a lifetime touch, his flesh was like drug to hers. 

He went to speak when they heard Jaskier start shuffling, a big chance of him waking up startled her. She quickly turned to Geralt and placed a kiss on his Forehead, it could be the last time she ever saw him she had to let him off with some sort of intimacy.

“Goodnight”

“No wait”

Before he could even move the girl was gone, vanished from thin air and leaving him high and dry, he groaned as he let his head touch the ground once again. It was even a minute before he went back to sleep, wondering what was that creature that had helped him and swooned him with just one look.

-

“IT’S A MIRACLE”

Geralt woke up by the defeating voice of the barb. As he opened his eyes a few strands of sunlight hit him in the face, he was almost ready to feel the great pain in his abdomen when he realized the pain never came. 

“Geralt I have to give it to you, I wasn’t sure if you could heal that time of wound. Look at you! All cleaned up and ready to go”

“What?”

As he sat up he took a look at his stomach, the tear in his clothes was there, yet no scar, no blood, like it was never there. He was healed, just like the girl in his dream said

“You know I was scared, you were talking in your sleep”

“I did?”

“Yes, in a... girly way. You almost fooled me I thought we had company, yet when I woke it was just you”

“The dream”

“What dream now?”

“I saw a girl, an angel"

All that was heard was the laugh of Jaskier, he had grown tired of being the only one that talked about a lady and being met with the dissapointed look of his witcher friend Geralt.

(Y/n) on the other side of the river felt her heart stop when she heard him call her an angel, of course the nymphs were known for their beauty, she had heard compliments that would make any woman blush over the years, still it was different when it came from him. It meant something to her when it came from him

"An angel, you were hallucinating Geralt? Well I don't blame you, that cut was nasty so it probably took all your might to heal it"

"Or just a thank you to your healer"

That sweet voice. Geralt turned his head immediately when he heard it, it was her, the girl that he saw at night, the angel in his dream, she was now in broad daylight approaching him. Jaskier that was standing was now seated, completely stunned by the awfully gorgeous woman that was quickly coming to them.

As she rose from the river Geralt and Jaskier felt her immaculate presence and their eyes fell almost simultaneously to her body, she was covered by a piece of see through white dress, that barely covered what was necessary. Her body was as perfect as the rest of her, it was like a woman out of a painting came to life, as her hair fell in front of her breasts, teasing them.

"Holly.... They weren't lying"

"excuse me?"

"the prophets, the songs, nymphs are really"

"you haven't seen a nymph before?"

She questioned. Her voice was more melodic than anything any bard- especially Jaskier- had ever sung. She stood in front of this men, so graciously that she made them feel uncomfortable by just being around her.

"no no I have not. I'm Jaskier"

"oh yes, the eager barb that wanted to jump in."

It was the first time Geralt had ever seen Jaskier blush, he was thankful of that blush because it made the girl laugh, her laugh was also like the best of music, she was a fairytale to look and be around to.

"It's alright dear, my sisters will allow you to go in. Right sisters?"

As she said that, the men saw other girls letting themselves out of their spots, one by one came closer and some of them giggling at the baffled man.

"this is.... Exquisite, excuse me dear"

As he kissed her hand he was gone in a bling of an eye and in a few seconds you heard the splash he made when his body hit the water.

Geralt had just gotten on his feet, no doubt the other nymphs were pretty as well, gorgeous as one would say, yet he was mesmerized by the one standing in front of him. She was looking over at the river, her profile was all he could see when he made a few steps to come near her

"I thought you were a dream"

"I didn't want to wake you... Geralt"

He had never been more excited to hear his name come out of someone's mouth. The gruff, cold man was now swooning over a female he had only seen once in his life.

"Thank you for healing me"

"you respected us, it was the least we could do"

"is that the only reason?"

She turned to look at him, she wasn't that much shorter than him. If he could be certain no one was watching he would had gotten her on his horse and hit the road with her, what has gotten into him? Just one look from those... Diamond like eyes and he was ready to leave with her. As he kept looking at her he felt a smile forming in his lips, his usual stiff characteristics had soften, all because of her

"Such pretty eyes"

She whispered to him. It was the first time he had received a compliment for his eyes, the color of his eyes was a sign on what he was, of what he did.

"what's your name?"

"(y/n)"

She introduced herself as she made a step, filling the small space between them. As he felt her skin against his clothes he tried to not show any type of emotion, he was enchanted by her. She once again reached and caressed his face, her skin felt so soft against his, making him relax and enjoy it.

"I've never met someone like you Geralt"

"A witcher?"

"A noble witcher, you are so rare"

Part two

[tpwkjerii]

as you wish | 2

your one true love was lost in a pirate attack five years ago, and now you’re engaged to a cruel prince. with all your misfortune, you didn’t expect three unconventional thugs and a painfully familiar pirate to save you from a dreadful future. (inspired by The Princess Bride)

pairing: pirate!seokjin x princess!reader

warnings: fluff and angst (!!), reader is forced into engagement and becoming a princess, mentions of death, kidnapping, murder threats, almost drowning, magical flesh-eating eels, heights, attempted murder, vminkook being vminkook lol, jimin is kinda mean (but he’s rlly a softy), combat/mentions of combat

genre: fairy tale/pirate au, semi established relationship au

word count: 3.8k+

a/n: i loved writing this :) pls leave comments as they’re greatly appreciated !!

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The gentle rocking of a boat lulled you back to consciousness. As you peeled your eyes open, you were met by the dark star-filled skies. You blinked to refocus your vision, and the clearing sight of a ship’s flag waving in the night winds reminded you of the situation you were in.

You shot up and looked down at your body, cursing silently when you realized that your hands were bound by ropes.

“ - no one could be after us?” a deep and smooth voice asked suddenly, causing your head to shoot up in panic.

The three men who kidnapped you were gathered together at the opposite end of the ship, examining the dark river behind them. You listened as they bickered, using this as your chance to devise an escape plan.

“As I told you hours ago, it would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways, inconceivable -”

You angled your hand and tugged at the loose end of the knot. To your relief, the ropes loosened, and you carefully slid one hand out and freed your other hand. With the three men still arguing on the other side of the ship, you quickly thought of how you could escape.

There was no way you could beat these men in physical combat and it was impossible to call for help. And you were certain that you couldn’t wait until you reached whatever location they set out for since they would probably kill you once you arrived. As you looked out at the dark waters ahead of you, you realized that the only possible solution was to jump off the ship.

Now you weren’t the strongest swimmer by any means, but you were sure that drowning was a better alternative to whatever the three men had planned for you. With that thought in mind, you took a final glance towards the three bickering men, inhaled a deep breath, and jumped off the ship.

Your body was instantly met with the ice cold waters of the river, and behind you rang a loud, muffled scream and commands of “get her!”

Your legs kicked as you attempted to keep your head over the freezing water. You ignored the burning sensation in your throat and legs as you fought against the currents of the river. You swam towards what you hoped was the river banks and you cursed internally when you realized that the men were following you in their ship.

“Veer left!” you heard one of them instruct. His honey-like and deceivingly sweet voice indicated that he was the blond man who first spoke to you.

You continued to kick as hard as you could, but you halted to a sudden stop when a high-pitched shriek rang from a short distance away. Your blood ran cold as the shrieks grew louder and a black snake-like shadow, illuminated by the moonlight, became visible under the water.

From behind you, the blond man laughed. “Do you know what that is, your highness?” he asked, his growing volume indicating that their ship wasn’t far behind you. You breathed in shakily, your tired legs fighting to continue treading water, as he continued, “Those are the Shrieking Eels — if you doubt me, just wait. They grow louder when they’re about to have their next meal.”

Your breathing grew heavier as you saw the eels approaching you, their bodies splashing the waters around you. The eels’ shrieks were becoming louder and louder and the pure terror you felt as you watched them swim closer silenced any pleas or cries that could have left you.

“If you swim back now, I promise no harm will come to you. I doubt the eels will give you such an offer!” the blond man told you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move at all.

“I won’t warn you again! Either come back or die!” the man shouted at you, urgency evident in his voice.

Petrified, you make no noise or attempt to move. You couldn’t do anything, not with the loud shrieks of the eels ringing in your ears and their snake-like figures getting closer and closer to you. Your eyes widen when one sticks its head out of the water, it’s menacing eyes and mouth growing wider as it slithers towards you. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace for its great jaws to clamp down and send you to the afterlife, but the bite never comes.

Instead, two familiar and strong arms pull you out of the water and drop you onto the wooden deck of the boat. You shivered in your soaked dress that was clinging to every curve of your body as the cold night air blew against you. The freezing winds only made your shaking worse as your heart pounded in your chest. The eels’ shrieks weren’t nearly as loud anymore - they were now growing fainter as they retreated - but even the slightest noise reminded you of their terrifying jaws.

You were panting heavily as you observed the men before you once again. The dark-haired man who saved you from the eels and the red-haired man were back at the opposite end of the ship, steering the boat away from the eels and pointing to something in the distance, while the blond one was scolding you as he tied your shaking hands together with the rope.

“You think you’re brave, don’t you?” he snapped sarcastically.

Your gaze met his and you stared deeply into his brown eyes. “Only compared to some,” you barely managed to breathe out.

You could tell your words enraged him as he opened his mouth to shoot back a reply, but he was interrupted by the red-haired man’s shout.

“Look! He’s cut our lead in half,” he cried, pointing in the direction behind the ship. You used what little energy you had left to crane your head to see what he was pointing at. Indeed, there was someone trailing their ship.

In another boat much smaller than the one you were in, a man in black was standing upright. His hair and the top of his face, excluding his eyes, were covered by black fabric. Even in the distance, you could make out his broad shoulders, and his build painfully reminded you of your first love. But the very clothing of the man in black caused you to push such thoughts away. His attire signified that he was a pirate — the exact type of person who killed Seokjin in the first place.

“It doesn’t matter, Taehyung!” said the blond man, bringing your attention back to him and the red-haired man, who you now know is named Taehyung. “See!” the blond man exclaimed, pointing towards the high cliffs that your ship was headed for. “The Cliffs of Reality!”

The rocky landscape was illuminated by the glowing yellows and oranges of dawn, and you gulp at the idea of having to climb it.

“He’s getting closer to us, Jimin!” the dark-haired man shouted towards the blond - Jimin.

“Ah, Jungkook, we’re safe! Only we know where the harbor with the shortcut up is,” explained Jimin. His words were enough to comfort his two friends, and together they steered the ship onward and pulled into an obscure dock.

In one swift move, Jungkook brought you into his arms and held you upright. He pulled you up and off the boat, Jimin and Taehyung following closely behind you.

You gasped as you felt yourself being lifted up once again, and Jungkook laughed softly, his chest rumbling with the vibrations of his voice. “Sorry, your Highness,” he said while fixing his hold on you. You were chest to chest with him, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck and your head next to his, but facing the opposite direction of him. “It’ll be quicker this way,” Jungkook continued.

Jimin guided you all past a few large rocks, revealing an obscure and steep stone walkway leading to the top of the cliffs.

“Whenever you're ready,” Taehyung said to Jungkook from behind him. Since the red-haired man was behind you, you were able to see the smile on his handsome face. His kind face made it hard to believe that he helped to kidnap you.

Jungkook responded, “Everyone steady?” a small laugh vibrating against your chest.

Taehyung’s boxy smile grew and he replied, “If you please.”

“I’ll climb with ease,” Jungkook continued the rhyme as he started up the high stairs.

“Ohh, good one Kookie,” Taehyung said with a laugh. Once again, his smiling face and warm voice could fool you into thinking he wasn’t actually one of your kidnappers.

“You and your rhymes,” Jimin muttered from the front, but you could tell by his tone that his statement wasn’t completely spiteful.

“Kookie likes them,” Taehyung defended innocently, and the brief yet heartwarming interaction almost put a smile on your face. Almost — you were still being kidnapped.

They continued up the stairs quietly for a few minutes, and Jungkook’s arms were still wrapped securely around your waist. You had no idea how he could be strong enough to carry you this entire time, but you did know that he was right in thinking that having you walk on your own would take them too long. The steps were extremely steep and difficult to maneuver — it would take only one misstep to fall to a rocky, watery death.

Soon enough, you reached a ledge that overlooked the waters. You tightened your grip around Jungkook as you realized how high up you already were. The boat was now barely visible and you could barely hear the waters crashing against the rocks.

“Jungkook, why don’t you go first,” suggested Jimin, and you felt Jungkook nod and remove his hands from around you.

“Wh-what are you doing?” you asked, panic clear in your shaky voice as you clutched onto him tightly.

“Hold on tight, Princess. We’ve got a rope to climb,” he answered with a teasing tone.

You gasped in fear. How the hell was he going to carry both of you up a rope?

Jungkook sensed your fear and laughed again, but his lighthearted mood brought you no comfort. “Don’t you worry, your Highness. I won’t let you fall. It’s not that far up anyways,” he said in an attempt to reassure you. But it still didn’t do much for your nerves. You only squeezed your eyes shut and clutched onto him.

You squeaked as you felt yourself being lifted higher and Jungkook’s arm muscles flexing under yours.

“He’s gaining on us!” Taehyung suddenly announced, causing you to peek one eye open. The same man in black who was trailing the ship was quickly making his way up the steep stone stairs, further fueling the curiosity in your head. Was this man trying to save you? Was he sent by Prince Donghae? Did he want to kidnap you for selfish reasons too?

Enough thoughts clouded your mind to give you a headache. You had no idea your life would ever end up like this, clinging to a random (and insanely strong) man while he climbed up a rope to take you god knows where.

“Faster, Jungkook!” Jimin cried from beneath you.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Jungkook grunted, a twinge of sympathy filling you as you heard his heavy pants. As strong as he was, he was definitely struggling to haul both you and him up the cliff. But any sympathy for him was shot dead as soon as you remembered that he was the one who kidnapped you in the first place.

The three men were quiet, all in intense focus to reach the top of the cliff before the mysterious man caught up to them, until Jungkook finally reached the top of the cliff. He breathed a sigh of relief as his leather-gloved hand gripped onto the hard, flat stone.

“Alright, Princess,” he started, his voice now gruff and slowed from exhaustion, “can you lift yourself up there?”

Forcing your eyes open, you craned your neck and looked at the top.

“Y-yes,” you responded, your heart beating loudly in your chest. You wanted to get onto a solid surface and off this rope as fast as you could, even if that meant perfectly playing into your kidnappers’ plans.

Using his other arm, Jungkook hoisted you up, allowing you to successfully lift yourself onto the flat cliff top. You rolled onto the ground ungracefully, breathing out deeply in relief. Behind you, Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung all hoisted themselves up.

They were all breathing deeply from exhaustion but managed to stand upright. You watched from the ground as Jimin pulled out a knife from his pocket and leaned down to the rope, placing it against the bound material and beginning to cut through it.

You felt a sudden rush of energy as you realized that if he cut the rope, the man in black following you would surely die. You hurried towards Jimin, kneeling to his eye level and saying frantically, “Stop! You’ll kill him!”

“It’s his fault for following us,” he muttered.

You cursed in panic and looked over the ledge. The mysterious man just started to climb the rope, which was about to be cut off by Jimin’s sharp blade. And with a loud snap, the rope broke. You watched in shock as it fell off the ledge, the frayed end a dreadful confirmation.

You froze in place. Did you just become an accomplice to murder? Tears pricked in your eyes at the thought of the painfully familiar man falling to his death, but they didn’t fall as Taehyung exclaimed, “He didn’t fall! He’s climbing!”

Your head whipped from Taehyung towards the ledge. You peered down, the sight before you verifying Taehyung’s words and allowing you to breathe in relief. The mysterious man was gripping onto the rocks tightly and slowly climbing up them.

“He had to have seen us with the Princess,” Jimin stated as he paced behind you. “It’s the only reason why he’d be following us this intently. He has to die.”

You turned around to shoot a retort towards Jimin, but you were cut off by his quick instructions: “Jungkook, carry her. We’ll head for the Joyeon frontier. Tae, catch up once you’ve taken care of the other guy.”

Your heart raced as you saw Taehyung nod and unsheathe his sword. “I’ll do my best,” he said with a smile.

Jungkook swiftly picked you up again as he added, “Be careful, Taehyung.” He walked away from the ledge with you securely in his arms and Jimin ahead of you. A part of you wanted to try and stay behind, the possibility of seeing the man behind the mask tempting you greatly, but the rational part of you knew that there was no way you could overpower Jungkook and Jimin.

You turned your head towards Jungkook, who was holding you in bridal style. He appeared younger than you, probably by only a few years, and you wonder how he got involved in such business in the first place.

Jimin and Taehyung also appeared to be slightly younger than you, and from the brief interactions you saw between them and Jungkook, you figured that they may have grown up together. Despite the fact that they were your kidnappers, you couldn’t help but feel curious about them.

“Jungkook,” you started, the name unfamiliar on your lips. He looked at you with a raised brow, confusion evident on his face as this was the first time you ever addressed him.

“How are you, Jimin, and Taehyung acquainted?” you asked.

Shock briefly passed in his face before he answered, “We grew up together. We’re practically brothers.”

You nodded in response. “What’s your business?”

“We do favors for some people, try our best to make a living for ourselves -“

“Ah, Jungkook, why are you telling her so much?” Jimin questioned, turning back to face you two with a straight face. “It’s not like she’s going to be our friend or anything.”

Your face dropped at his blunt words. Right. No matter how kind hearted they seemed, these three men were still your kidnappers who would probably still end up killing you.

“Ah, Jimin, there’s no need to be so mean,” whined Jungkook, giving you a pitiful glance. “Don’t worry, nothing bad will happen to you.”

A wave of relief flooded through you, Jungkook’s kind eyes and innocent smile soothing your nerves.

“Jungkook!” exclaimed Jimin, whose face was beginning to turn red. “Don’t say too much!”

“What’s the point, Jimin? Don’t you feel bad? She’s so nice!” Jungkook defended with a whine.

“We’ll discuss it later, we’re still being chased by that man in black — we have no time to lose!” Jimin stressed, his blush spreading as he quickened his pace.

Jungkook laughed and increased his face, your smile growing with his. At least you knew they weren’t going to kill you.

“Inconceivable!” exclaimed Jimin. “That man’s catching up to us!”

Jungkook’s head whipped around to look at the direction Jimin was facing. The younger man’s face dropped. “You don’t think he… killed Taehyung?”

Jimin’s face hardened, and you felt your heart tug at the distraught expression on their faces.

“Give me Y/N,” Jimin started, and Jungkook followed obediently. “Take care of that man and catch up to us,” the blond directed as he secured his grip on you. You wanted to mention that you could walk on your own, but one look at Jimin’s stern expression signified that it was best to stay silent for now.

While Jungkook rested at a nearby tree, Jimin led you away. This was the first time you were alone with the lond, and you wondered if he was secretly as softhearted as Jungkook or as playful as Taehyung.

“I don’t think your friend is dead,” you stated quietly, hoping it would reassure him. You knew very well how it felt to lose someone you loved and you wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone else.

Jimin’s face remained neutral as he responded, “You wouldn’t know how people like us and him are, Princess.”

“But I do,” you replied softly, looking away from him as you honestly continued, “I know very well how people can be. Before I was Princess, I was just the daughter of simple farmers. My mother died in the city attack, my father died of illness, and my love died from a pirate attack. I was alone, and the Prince knew that. I still do not know why he wanted me to be his Princess, but I have no one and nothing else.”

Jimin’s breath faltered and several emotions passed through him at once. This entire trip, you defied his expectations of you. You were bold, honest, kind hearted, and nothing like the rumors that spread amongst the townspeople. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say to you.

You shrugged in his arms, still facing away from him. “You have nothing to apologize about. I only hope you do not have to feel more pain in your life.”

Jimin remained quiet until he reached an empty clearing.

“We can wait here until Jungkook catches up,” he said as he set you down against a large tree. You nodded softly, your eyes drooping in exhaustion.

“Ok,” was all you whispered out before you fell unconscious once again.

Jimin examined your features with a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he murmured to your sleeping figure.

Several minutes passed before a tall figure became visible in the distance. Jimin straightened, but his hopeful face fell when his eyes landed on the man in black and not Jungkook.

Quickly, the blond wrapped a black strip of fabric around your eyes and grabbed your wrists. You awoke with a startle, your vision completely covered as you asked, “What’s happening?”

“Nothing of your concern, your Highness,” muttered Jimin. His grip on you tightened as the mysterious man walked closer and closer until he was only a few feet from you.

“Did you hurt them?” Jimin questioned him, his voice darker and more threatening than you’d ever heard before.

“Not more than what was necessary to get to you,” the man replied, and the undeterminable familiarity of his voice caused you to draw in a shallow breath. The smooth gentleness of his words reminded you of Seokjin, whose death still pains you even two years later.

“So you killed them,” Jimin muttered, his breaths growing heavier.

“I did not,” the other man stated simply. Silence followed until he added, “Give me the Princess, and I will allow you to catch up with your friends with no more interference.”

Your thoughts wondered at his demand. Who was this man? Why did he want you? Was he sent by Prince Donghae? How was he so similar to Seokjin? Where did he c -

“No. Our business with the Princess is our business,” Jimin said flatly, his grip on you tightening. He pulled you slightly behind him as he continued, “I’m sure you understand what it’s like for your life to depend on something.”

“I do,” the man responded, “which is why I must take the Princess with me.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Jimin asserted darkly, his harsh grip causing you to whimper.

At that, the man moved towards you and Jimin in one swift move. Jimin pushed you to the ground away from them, and you braced yourself on the thankfully soft grass. You tripped on the edge of your dress as you scooted away fearfully and tugged off the fabric covering your eyes.

The masked man and Jimin were fighting, but none of them appeared to have the true intent to kill. The former had the upper hand, being larger in stature and greater in strength. He easily locked Jimin in a hold and pushed his body down.

“This will only take a moment,” the man said as he pushed a pressure point on Jimin’s neck. In a matter of seconds, the blond’s body fell limp and his eyes closed.

The man sighed heavily and stood up, keeping his eyes on Jimin’s unconscious for a few seconds before directing them towards you. You were shaking in fear and confusion as you examined the man in front of you.

Everything, from his voice to the curve of his lips, reminded you of Seokjin. What kind of sick trick was the universe playing on you?

“Come on, Princess,” he said as he approached you, his voice causing your face to waver again.

Still sitting on the ground, you gazed up at him as you asked,

“Who… who are you?” Your voice was softer than ever and your eyes were glassy from memories of Seokjin.

“I’m no one of importance to you, at least not anymore,” he answered stiffly, bending down to stand you up.

Not anymore?

“It can’t be,” you whispered as you stared into his deep brown eyes. “Are you who I think you are?” you asked tearfully.

“That depends,” he started, his breaths shallow and his voice airy, “who do you think I - ”

The distant cry of horses interrupted him, and both of you directed your attention to the hills behind you. You gasped in shock as you recognized the kingdom’s flags flying from the royal horses. And even at a great distance, you recognized the man commanding the group — Prince Donghae.

[7-wonders]

Circling the Drain

Summary: It's a race against time...wait, why do people say that? It's not a race against some outside force, it's a race against a crazed back-from-the-dead mafioso with a vengeance.

Word Count: 3454

A/N: I tried something a little different for this chapter in terms of formatting, mainly because there was so much I wanted to fit in different POVS. Uhhhhh let me know your thoughts and like, comments and reblogs make my world go round. ALSO that second gif is exactly how I imagine a certain scene (you'll know it when you read it).

Warnings: Very torture heavy chapter. Blood, torture methods, guns, knives, kidnappings, talk of death. You should probably go pet some puppies or kittens after you read this.

Previous chapters of Memento Mori: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

Duncan

It’s difficult to know how much time has passed since Duncan was last outside of this small concrete room. There’s no windows to let light in, no clocks to denote the hour, and no sort of schedule that he can catch on to. Although, even if there were a schedule, he would be too delirious from sleep deprivation to realize that there was one. The only thing that Duncan can count on is the unending torture at the hands of his uncle.

All of the crisis training in the world wouldn’t have prepared him for the physical and mental torture that he’s been put through. Though he doesn’t know it, it’s been almost seventy-two hours of this absolute hell, of Bill beating him black and blue, taunting him, slowly ripping out fingernails one by one (somehow, he still has six, though one of the six is just barely hanging on), refusing to let him sleep, and tasing him back to consciousness whenever he tries to close his eyes. This most recent time, the throbbing of his head had begged him enough to where he finally closed his eyes, only to be jolted up with a rush of electricity running through his body and seizing his muscles.

“You still think you’re getting out of it that easy, huh? That you can fall asleep and bide your time until you’re ‘rescued?’” Bill chuckles. “No, it’s not that easy.”

“Just kill me already, if that’s what you’re planning on,” Duncan says through clenched teeth, glaring up at Bill through the one eye that’s not completely swollen shut.

“Is that what you want? You want me to kill you?” His obviously-fake concern would enough to make bile rise in Duncan’s throat, if he had actually had anything left in his stomach.

“You want me to beg for it, don’t you?”

“I guess I underestimated you. Turns out you do have some sort of critical thinking skills.”

Duncan defiantly turns his head, refusing to give Bill what he wants. Realizing this, Bill begins to walk towards the door. As he does, going to flick off the single light bulb in this place, Duncan’s chest tightens in anticipation of the claustrophobia he’ll surely begin to feel (most likely a side-effect of what he’s gone through, considering he’s never been scared of dark spaces before) and he scrambles to stall him. “So why are you keeping me alive?”

Bill stops for a moment before slowly turning around. “I already told you.”

“No, I know that you want revenge. But what’s your plan? Why waste your time? Surely you’ll at least give me the honor of knowing what I’m dying for?”

His jaw clenches, not pleased with that last question, but he doesn’t hit Duncan. Yet. “I’m taking back what’s mine, and then some.”

“And you think Mom’s going to be okay with that?”

“Your poor mother is going to be more than okay with that when she finds out that the Coven killed her only child.”

Slowly, it dawns on Duncan. “You’re the one that’s been killing people in the Coven’s style and leaving them in our territory?”

“Of course I am!” Bill holds his arms out as if to say ‘tah-dah!’ “Cordelia Goode would never be so bold as to do that! But after I kill you, drain you of your blood, cut your tongue out, dump you in the Potomac, and reappear into society, people won’t care about that little fact. Especially after I reveal that it was the Coven that prompted me to fake my own death and go into hiding for years.”

“How long were you planning this?”

“About a year before you stabbed me, when I realized that you were far too…” he grits his teeth, “charismatic to not end up with the family business eventually. That’s why I always made sure that the police and paramedics were well-paid, just in case the day ever came that I needed them to lie on my behalf.”

“You have it all planned then, so why not just do it and kill me now?”

“Well, there are a couple of minor issues I still need to work out.” Bill glances at Duncan slyly. “Such as what to do with that girlfriend of yours.”

In a flash, Duncan sees red. He lunges, forgetting the fact that he’s chained to the radiator and can only go so far until his ankle is jerked violently and he falls back to the ground. “You leave her alone, she’s done nothing wrong!”

“You’re right, she hasn’t, but (Y/N) knows too much.”

Duncan’s heart skips a beat when he realizes that Bill (predictably) knows more than he should.

“I’m thinking a suicide? It’s very believable, what with the grieving girlfriend and all.” Bill steps forward and, ever so slowly, places his foot on one of Duncan’s hands. “Maybe she slits her wrists in the bath? It’s very easy to overpower someone when they’re vulnerable. Or perhaps she overdoses? That’s not my preferred method, though, far too much room for someone to survive an overdose. Tell me, Duncan, how would you prefer that she die?” With each possible method, Bill continues to lay more pressure on Duncan’s hand until Duncan is moaning in pain.

“Don’t...hurt her,” Duncan pants.

Bill finally removes his foot, giving Duncan a moment to breathe before he stomps on his hand, digging the toe of his shoe in until Duncan is screaming and Bill is sure his hand is broken. “I think she’ll jump into the Potomac with a weight tied around her ankle. The poeticism--her drowning in the same river that your body will be found in--is something that’s just too good to pass up.”

“I’ll kill you. I swear to God, I’ll kill you again and make sure that it sticks this time.” Tears are streaming down Duncan’s face, though whether that’s from the physical or emotional agony he’s in, he can’t be sure.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Bill smiles, walking to the light switch and flicking it off. “I’ll be back in a bit, and then our final act can finally begin.”

This time, Duncan doesn’t stop him before he leaves, barely letting the door close before his willpower crumbles and he begins to sob. Cradling his injured hand, he has to force himself to look at the now-mangled fingers. He gasps, attempting to straighten them out, but they refuse to even twitch in response. It’s now that Duncan realizes that the true torture is waiting. His mind and body shattered, he now has to be at the mercy of Bill Shepherd before he can finally die. He’s never wished for death before, but now, he feels a pang in his heart for every one of his victims that have had to wait, broken and bruised, for Duncan to kill them.

You

“Does this location have any significance to you?” Cordelia asks Annette, pointing to an address hastily written down on a scrap of paper. The address corresponds to a building, fairly nondescript, but obviously holding some sort of significance.

“No, it doesn’t.” Annette shakes her head.

“That’s because this is the location of the first school that I opened here in D.C. Bastard’s really going all in on trying to frame me for everything he’s done.”

(Y/N), who had previously been dozing off on Langdon’s lap (Langdon had already made her swear not to tell anybody or else he would kill her in her dreams like Freddy Kreuger), sits straight up at this moment. “What makes you think he’s there?” she asks.

“This car.” Cordelia pulls another paper out from the folder she had brought with her, this one a picture of a Mercedes E-Class. “It’s been back and forth from Umbra to the old school numerous times in the past two days. License plates are registered back to Umbra.”

“So it’s definitely Bill, then.”

“I’m not typically a betting woman, but I would put money on this. Surveillance indicates that this car has been parked in front of the Goode Academy for six straight hours now.”

(Y/N) doesn’t know much about hostage situations, but she has to assume that Bill being where Duncan is held captive for an extended amount of time means nothing good.

“We need to move now, then,” Annette says. There’s no question behind her voice; she’s going to get her son.

“Yes. Your team?”

“Myself, Langdon, and (Y/N).”

Cordelia glances warily at (Y/N). “Do you have combat experience?”

“Duncan trained me to fight, and also did some weapons training with me,” (Y/N) says.

“That’s good enough.” (Y/N) tries not to be offended. “I have myself, Madison, Misty, and Mallory.”

“We’re going?” Mallory, a brunette wearing a gold headband, says.

“I need my best girls, and you three have proven yourselves.”

“Alright then, let’s go.” Annette grabs a key from around her neck and unlocks what you thought to be a closet door, opening it to reveal a weapons cache large enough to rival a small government’s. “Stock up.”

“Which gun are you most comfortable with?” Langdon asks (Y/N), the two standing side-by-side after everybody else has had their turn.

“Uh, I don’t really know the names. It’s a handgun, and it’s black.”

“Probably a Springfield, then.” Langdon hands (Y/N) a gun that looks similar to ones that she’s handled before. “It’s already loaded.”

“Thanks.” She glances at Langdon after holstering her own weapon, watching as he selects numerous guns of different sizes. “What if we’re too late?”

“We won’t be.”

“But you heard what Cordelia said. Bill’s been there for six straight hours now. He could have--”

“You’re right, he could have,” Langdon interrupts. “But we can’t go in there assuming that the worst outcome has come true. We have to have hope. If nothing else, there’s always hope.”

“I have hope.”

“Good, because I do, too.” Langdon grabs a knife from the weapons closet, twirling the tip of the blade on his index finger. “Now let’s go get Duncan back.”

Duncan

Bill stands before Duncan, twirling the tip of a knife on his index finger. “I’ve held onto this for six years now. Do you recognize it?”

Of course Duncan recognizes the knife that he stabbed his uncle with. In his dreams, he can still feel the cool leather handle gripped tightly in his palm.

“It’s something of a treasure to me, although it certainly didn’t seem like it at first. I’ve come to recognize the significance of holding the thing that almost killed me, and I like to keep it as a reminder.” Bill holds the knife out to Duncan, knowing he’s too weak to fight him for it. “See that on the blade? Why don’t you read it for me?”

Cursive lettering is engraved on the blade, though it was not there when the knife had been in Duncan’s possession. “Memento mori,” Duncan mutters, trying to remember his Latin lessons from high school.

“It was an extremely popular phrase during the medieval period, specifically when it came to funerals. ‘Remember you must die.’ It’s a warning, a reminder. That’s what this knife has become to me, a reminder of the inevitability of death. It also reminds me that I’ve survived death before, and I’ll surely survive it again.”

“Quite the sense of humor,” Duncan remarks dryly.

Bill shrugs, bending down to Duncan’s level. “A little gauche, perhaps, but I enjoy the significance of the phrase.”

Duncan’s about to ask him what the point of this is when Bill shows him by shoving the knife into his abdomen. Duncan grunts in pain, gritting his teeth and glaring at him. “Of course you’re going to stab me just like I stabbed you.”

“Do you know how I managed to survive?” Bill asks.

“I’ve tried not to think about it much.”

“I survived,” Bill continues, “because you were too stupid to realize that you needed to pull the knife out. What do all of the medical professionals say when training civilians on dealing with stabbings? ‘Don’t remove the weapon.’ That’s the only thing keeping them from bleeding out, and it’s what kept me from bleeding out.”

“I had assumed I severed your abdominal aorta, what with all the blood.”

“Exactly, ‘assumed.’” Bill digs the knife around to watch the way that Duncan tries not to scream before pulling it out and watching as blood begins to pour out of the wound. For every beat of Duncan’s frantic heart, trying to pump blood to the source of the injury in an attempt to clot it, more blood pulses out. “Never assume things, my boy.”

Though his head is starting to spin, Duncan finds just enough rage to spit at Bill. “Go to hell.”

“From the looks of it, you’ll be there long before me,” he says almost gleefully before pulling out a gun and shooting him in the thigh. This time, Duncan openly screams. “Just wanted to make sure you actually die, if the stabbing wasn’t enough.” Bill’s extremely nonchalant, as if he’s discussing the nuances of the Nationals rather than talking about murder.

Bill grabs a key and unlocks the chain from around Duncan’s leg, knowing that he won’t have the strength to escape. “I’ll be back in half an hour to check on you.”

“Fuck you,” Duncan responds, but Bill’s already gone.

Duncan moans in pain as he stares at his wounds, feeling the stickiness of blood beginning to pool under him. Lifting a shaky hand, he presses it to his abdomen to try and slow the bleeding. As he swallows deeply, realizing that he very likely is going to die shortly, he thinks about a number of things, mainly regrets.

He wishes that he had realized earlier that his mom was just as much Bill’s victim as he was.

He wishes that he appreciated Michael more for the brother he had been to him.

He wishes that he had told (Y/N) that he loved her more often.

But most especially, Duncan wishes that he had just put a bullet in Bill’s head that night instead of stabbing him. Then, he wouldn’t be feeling this intense cold begin to settle in his bones as he’s forced to slowly die on the concrete floor of a basement. Facing the Grim Reaper head-on is not nearly as dramatic as he thought it would be.

You

Watching the Coven, Langdon, and Annette taking out the defectors is not nearly as dramatic as (Y/N) thought it would be. Wisely, they had requested that she stay behind until the perimeter was secured. It’s much quieter, and a lot less bloody; as it turns out, members of organized crime do have consciences, and chose to subdue those not directly a threat. After Langdon finishes tying those who had remained loyal to Bill together, Cordelia motions for (Y/N) to follow the group into the old school.

The proud sign that once declared this building the Goode Academy now lies in the dirt of the overgrown lawn. The doors are open, solely because the rusted hinges make it impossible for them to remain closed against a gentle breeze. The further that they make it inside, the more frantic (Y/N) is. She knows that they’re close to Duncan, she just doesn’t know what state they’ll find Duncan in. Before they can make it too far with Cordelia as their guide, Bill appears. Instead of holding a machine gun, which is kind of what (Y/N) had expected, he has a concerned look on his face.

“Annette, thank god you’re here! I know this must be confusing to you, but when I heard that Duncan was missing, I knew that I needed to save him from the bitches that had sent me into hiding years ago.”

Confusion blankets (Y/N)’s mind as she tries to figure out what’s going on, but Annette doesn’t feel the same. “Cut the shit, Bill. I know what you’ve been doing.”

Bill laughs. “You’re going to let Cordelia Goode manipulate you into believing her, after she tried to kill me?”

“You’re an idiot. You think I don’t smell the blood in the air?” Annette laughs viciously, a verbal slap in the face. “Where’s my son?”

Like a switch was flipped, the worry on Bill’s face falls into contempt. “You’ve always been too emotional for your own good, Annette.”

“‘Family over everything,’” Annette quotes. “Remember that? What happened to that?”

“That died the day that that--that mistake came back from boarding school and decided that our business, the empire we built from the ground up, was his birthright.”

“You never were good at sharing, were you?”

The siblings stare at each other for a moment before Bill sighs. “You could have just been complicit, but no. Guess I’ll have to think on the fly, then.” He pulls out a gun and cocks the hammer back.

Before he can fire, Madison and Mallory appear from behind him, having snuck into the back. Madison knocks the gun out of his hand, the weapon firing into the ceiling, as Mallory socks him in the face and drives him to his knees. Both women force his hands behind him, holding him still as Cordelia walks up to him.

“The door to the basement is in the kitchen, hidden behind the left wall of the pantry,” Cordelia says to the group.

(Y/N)’s off, moving as fast as she can while maneuvering through the unfamiliar house. “Wait, you can’t do this. Annette, you aren’t really going to let the Coven, of all people, do this to me?” Bill pleads.

“I can actually, and I will. After all,” Annette turns to Cordelia, “we have a deal.”

In the kitchen, (Y/N) throws open the pantry door, pushing and shoving and pulling at the left wall before it finally opens to reveal a set of stairs.

“Girls?” Annette calls just before she reaches the door. “Make it painful.”

(Y/N) runs down the stairs, hands scrambling along the wall until she comes across a light switch. Flicking it on, her eyes look around the room until she sees a lifeless figure on the floor that’s surrounded by a pool of blood. A cry is ripped from her chest as she falls to her knees beside Duncan, hands hovering above him as she tries to figure out what to do first.

He’s pale, scarily so, and he’s breathing so shallowly that she can’t tell he’s breathing at first. Somehow, with all the blood, he’s still breathing. All (Y/N) can focus on is the fact that he’s still alive (later, she’ll wonder how she didn’t even flinch at all of the injuries and the blood, oh, the blood) as she rips her shirt off and presses it firmly against the wound on his stomach, calling his name over and over again in increasing levels of desperation.

From behind her, she can hear Annette scream and yell for Langdon to call an ambulance. She can feel the presence of somebody next to her as they catalogue where Duncan’s hurt, but she can’t bring herself to look away from Duncan’s face. His perfect face, that she’s kissed over and over a thousand times and has taken immense pleasure in watching a blush rise to the surface. His perfect face that she’s now slapping to try and get him to at least show some sort of response.

“You don’t get to die like this,” she tells him, hoping that he’ll somehow manage to hear her. “You said that you didn’t want to be the reason I suffered, but look at you now, making me suffer. Don’t keep me suffering like this!”

Slowly, and just barely, his eyes crack open just enough that (Y/N) can see a hint of blue. His lips move, saying something without audible sound, and she brings her head down to his to try and catch what he’s saying.

“An angel.” She finally makes out what his reverent whisper is over the wail of the incoming ambulances, and laughs brokenly as her head falls onto his chest in relief.

//

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[ssa-thotchnerr]

Don’t Let Me Drown

Anonymous asked:

maybe a Hotch angst with his daughter being kidnapped by unsub, and he decides to drown her because he knows that she’s afraid of water and can’t swim? Maybe no happy ending? Thank you so much!

word count: 2.2k words of pure ANGST

warnings: drowning, major character death, grief, angst to the max, sad!hotch, kinda shifty writing ngl

a/n: anon, you are EVIL! I love it though. Yeah, this is pretty sad cause Hotch is really sad 😭😭😭 anyway I feel like this is really shit so if yall could give some feedback, I would really appreciate it!

—

"Shut up!"

You winced as you were harshly hit over the head by your kidnapper. He slammed the back door of the van shut, causing you to flinch back in fear. He'd just tied your arms back, not wanting to risk you trying to scratch his eye out once more, since you'd nearly succeeded the first time over. You didn't care that you were full on crying, the kind of crying that shook your entire body painfully.

The kind of crying that suggested fear.

You didn't even remember what happened, one minute you were walking home from school, the next you were in some strangers van with your arms lashed behind your back painfully tight. He wasn't too bothered about you knowing his name of what he looked like, you knew what that meant. You knew why he didn't care about you knowing who he was, what he was going to do to anyone else he could get his hands on.

You knew he was gonna kill you.

The sheer thought made you whimper. You didn't want to die, not like this. Not in fear, not without saying goodbye to your dad, your little brother, your friends. You didn't want to be murdered, not be a case that JJ would be given one morning and be pinned up on a wall. Taking in a deep breath, you attempted to steady out your breathing, there was no way you were going down without at least trying to negotiate your way out of here.

"Please, let-let me go, I won't tell anyone, I-I promise," You said, looking up at the man as he slid the door of the van open. "You-you don't wanna do this." You tried your hardest not to stutter, but your nerves were at an all time high, you couldn't help it. He laughed as he reached forward and snatched you towards him, causing you to scream. "Let me go! Please!" You cried as he picked you up.

"Shut up, brat!" He snarled, throwing you onto the ground. Looking around, you realised you were at the lake near Quantico, meaning that if your dad and his team were working on this case already, you at least had a chance.

Right?

Pulling out your phone that he'd taken from your pocket, he grinned as he took a picture of you. You shook your head and let out an angry huff, your chest heaving with each and every breath you took. The Unsub smiled at you maliciously as he put your phone up to his ear.

"Poor baby, just wanting her daddy to come and save her, huh?" You sniffled as you looked up at him, an angry look on your face as your eyebrows were furrowed. "Well, how about I left you speak to your dad one more time, a final goodbye?" You felt your stomach drop.

Final goodbye?

You started to tug desperately at the rope lashing your arms to your side, fear overtaking your rational side as you realised where you were. You were by a river, you couldn't swim, and this guy appeared to know and have something against your dad.

"Hello, is this SSA Hotchner?"

—

Hotch let out a frustrated sigh as your phone went to voicemail once more. He'd tried calling you about 7 times, and every time he tried, it rang out to voicemail. Hotch knew that your phone was always on, after all, you were a modern day teenager, didn't all of them have their phones on all the time?

"Still nothing?" Derek asked. Hotch shook his head as he looked up at his colleague, trying to hide the complete and under distress he was feeling at the moment. But Derek had been working with Hotch for years, and he knew his usually stoic boss better than Hotch thought he did. "Hey, it's alright. We'll get her home, Y/N's a smart kid." Derek assured him.

"I know she's a smart kid, but she's still a child, she'll be scared," Hotch said. As much as he didn't want to think about it, he knew there was a possibility you were already dead. He hated that he thought of that, that you died scared, possibly painfully. Hotch had never answered his phone quicker than when your name flashed up on the screen. "Y/N-" Hotch was prepared to ground you until you graduated high school just for worrying him so much.

"Hello, is this SSA Hotchner?"

That wasn't you.

"Where's Y/N?" Hotch asked, trying to keep his voice steady. Derek looked out to the bullpen, seeing that the whole team, Minus Rossi and Emily, was there, he signalled to Hotch, who nodded as Derek left him.

"You'll be able to find Y/N at Lake Ridge," He answered.

"Help me! Dad!" You were crying. Hotch couldn't help but to do the same thing, he stood up, he didn't want to feel like it was a hopeless situation anymore. The line went silent for a minute, making Hotch freeze on the spot.

There was a scream.

The line went dead.

-

It was cold.

So, so cold.

But you found that after a while, it wasn't cold anymore. It almost felt comforting, that if you went just that little bit deeper, you would be able to get warmer, and warmer, and warmer. And it became just that, so comforting in fact, you found that you were drifting away from consciousness.

This was it.

And that was it.

Hotch practically dove out of the car as Derek pulled up, running out and getting right into the lake. He knew you couldn't swim. Everything he did, went against everything he was told to do. Don't rush into things, make sure the coast is clear, all of that was not to be ignored, but given the circumstances, Hotch wasn't much caring about what the law said. Yes, he was an FBI agent, but he was your father first.

Dear God, he hoped he still was your father.

The team watched from the shore as Hotch disappeared under the water, all of their hearts practically beating out of their chests. You were the first BAU Baby, the female embodiment of your father, something that Hotch would endlessly brag to Haley about when she’d visit the BAU with you. You’d always listen to Reid list of facts that there was no way a child your age could understand, Penelope would always be aware of your presence before hand and have a plushie ready for you so she could keep her coined title of being your favourite. They'd watched you grow up to the 16 year old they knew and loved, and they were praying that the last time they saw you, wasn't the last that they saw you alive.

"I called an ambulance just as we left, it should be here soon," Spencer said, still keeping his eyes on where Hotch had disappeared. It was a tense atmosphere, and with every passing second, the outcome of the situation became more and more bleak. After what felt like hours, Hotch resurfaced with you, unconscious in his arms.

“Oh my God,” JJ whispered, looking around at the team to see their reactions. Everyone was simply in shock. Hotch waded through the water, placing you on the ground and kneeling beside you. The whole team rushed to your side, Reid at your neck to feel for a pulse.

His stomach dropped when he felt nothing.

“Damn it, Y/N, wake up,” Hotch said, starting compressions on your chest. JJ was holding your hand, Derek was waiting on the ambulance. They’d completely forgotten about the UnSub, they were hoping that you could make it out of this alive to tell them about your captor. You had to make it out of this, you’d lost too much in the past years, surely you’d be allowed to not lose your life too? Your dad switched to mouth to mouth, but nothing appeared to be working. “Come on, honey, don’t leave me.” Hotch was desperate, his voice breaking as he spoke. Everyone was starting to feel sick, it was like watching Hotch grieve over Haley all over again, just 10x worse this time around.

You were still a child.

Throughout everything your dad tried, you remained completely unresponsive. Hotch knew that you were gone, but he didn’t want to think about it.

“Hotch,” He looked up at his colleagues, who were all looking at him with sympathy. None of them wanted to say anything, it would make everything real, make it hurt ten times worse. To Hotch, it felt like being dragged kicking and screaming into a nightmare, as he sat there, his oldest daughters body in his arms. Up until now, he had praying that he wouldn’t be planning another funeral, no, not for you. He didn’t want to be thinking about what he would be saying to everyone coming to the aforementioned funeral, about how he would have to use the past tense while speaking about you.

Hotch finally broke down.

JJ, Spencer and Derek left Hotch for a bit, this wasn’t exactly their time to be grieving. They hadn’t just lost their child, killed by their worst fear. To make things worse?

The ambulances arrived.

-

No one could say that they were particularly surprised when the unit chief stepped back for a bit. They all understood, how could they not? They didn’t even want to think about how Hotch was feeling, how he was dealing with the silence that now on,y came with a one child household. Everyone had went to your funeral, it was the first time anyone had seen Hotch since that day. Everyone had taken turns at going to check on him, and right now it was Emily and Derek’s turn.

“Hey,” Emily said, smiling sympathetically at Hotch as the front door opened. Hotch smiled back, both Emily and Derek knew that it was a fake smile, but the gesture was appreciated. “How are things?” She asked him.

“Alright, I guess,” Hotch answered vaguely. “Me and Jack cleared out some stuff from her room, he took her record player and all of her vinyls, he’d been begging for them for years,” He said, a real, genuine smile coming to his face.

“That’s good, man,” Derek said. “Is there anything you wanna talk about?” Derek asked. Hotch shook his head. It still hurt to talk about you, it was still too deep of a wound to mention. The thought he found himself mulling over often was what did he say if people asked him about his kids? He would surely have to mention you, right?

The only thing he could conjure up was; “I lost my daughter, but I have a son.”

He lost his daughter.

It hurt.

It really fucking hurt.

-

Later that night, Hotch had left Jack alone downstairs for a few hours while he finished some stuff in your room. Once coming downstairs, he paused as he saw you on the screen of the TV. He recognised the video, it was your 5th birthday party, Jack being only a baby at the time. Jack was still young, but old enough the know what had had happened to his older sister.

“Hey, what’s this?” Hotch asked. Jack paused it and looked up at his dad, wiping the tears away from his eyes. Hotch had noticed that Jack hadn’t cried yet, and he knew that different people grieved differently. He knew from experience.

“I found it, it had her name on it and I just wanted to see her again,” Jack said, trying his hardest to keep back the sob that was aching to escape. Hotch sensed this was coming, he knew his son.

“It’s alright to cry, Jack, she is-was your sister, you’re allowed to be upset,” Hotch said, the correction hurting more than the previous ones did. Jack shook his head, and the dam broke, he burst into tears. Hotch put his arm around Jack, pulling him close as he finally broke down. “I know it hurts.” He assured him.

“I just miss her,” Jack whispered, wiping his eyes.

“I know, I miss her too.”

��

Taglist

@snarky--starky @averyhotchner @snowangle1994 @pepperonysmcu @yeojiins @mollbt

[isuckatreadinglol]

Crooked Kingdom Review 🕰️

Holy shit.

(spoiler warning, duh)

Book: Crooked Kingdom (Book 2 of the Six of Crows Duology)

Author: Leigh Bardugo

Rating: 5.5/5

The Plot

This book took me a bit longer to finish because I wanted to absorb as much of the plot as possible because of how much action there was. Every chapter had something going wrong (cough cough part 4) which made it impossible to put the book down. Some parts literally had my heart racing.

There were a lot of interesting moments and I would hardly say they were predictable. At some parts of the book I literally had to just...sit there and just think about how incredible the twists were. I never expected anything to happen, and the way things played out in the end were mind-blowing. I loved the way the plot expanded and it was very satisfying when the book ended.

The Characters

"Where do you think the money went?" he repeated.

"Guns?" asked Jesper

"Ships?" queried Inej.

"Bombs?" suggested Wylan.

"Political bribes?" offered Nina. They all looked at Matthias. "This is where you tell us how awful we are," she whispered.

I fell in love with every single character and watching them grow made me so happy. I think personally I loved Kaz Brekker the most in this book because you really got to see how his trauma left him scarred, as well as how skillful he really is when it came to the missions. The smallest details of Kaz's character just built him into such an awesome character. His backstory expanded, explaining so many things that I didn't even think I needed to know until I read them. Plus the fact that he basically wrote the book. Leigh made up the idea for the plot and Kaz said "I'll take it from here".

"I don't hold a grudge. I cradle it. I coddle it. I feed it fine cuts of meat and send it to the best schools. I nurture my grudges, Rollins"

And that was what destroyed you in the end: the longing for something you could never have.

Inej stole my heart again and again and for what. She really is such a well-built character with amazing determination. The beginning literally had me shaking (It was also the part of the book that had my heart-racing) because I really felt for Inej. Leigh also wrote Inej's kidnapped chapters perfectly, it felt so real. Her showdown with White Blade was so beautifully written and honestly Dunyasha was such a cool character I almost wish she was developed into something more rather than killed.

Anyway, Inej holds a place in my heart and it was refreshing to have such an in depth character, from her history at the Menagerie, to her references of her culture (which were so beautiful). It really made her stand out from the rest of the crew and she was just an incredible character.

"That was how you survived when you weren't chosen, when there was no royal blood in your veins. When the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway."

"The Suli believe that when we do wrong, we give life to our shadows. Every sin makes the shadow stronger, until eventually the shadow is stronger than you."

Her heart was a river that carried her to the sea.

Jesper was the character I resonated the most with. His backstory was so interesting and structured, but simple. I did enjoy the appearance of his father because it added an element of Jesper's character we didn't see much of before. We got to learn his backstory and learn about his relationship with his father. His unhealthy habits was also something I resonated with so it comforted me to be able to understand this character and connect with him. Also, I love the fact that his ADHD was given more attention to show how and why he dealt with situations the way he did. Also, when he bent the direction of the bullet at the last part...chills. He's my ultimate comfort character and I loved getting to know him.

Guilt and love and resentment were all tangled up inside him, and every time he tried to unravel the knot in his gut, it just got worse.

There's a wound in you, and the tables, the dice, the cards--they feel like medicine. They soothe you, put you right for a time. But they're poison, Jesper. Every time you play, you take another sip.

Nina was definitely one of my favorite characters to see grow. The creativity that was put into her powers was amazing and she was just such a badass. She could literally raise fuckers from the DEAD????? That shit made me lose my mind like how powerful can she GET. She was definitely an awesome character and I really wished we got some more on her powers and her story after they got their money.

She was the Queen of Mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.

Wylan...sweet Wylan. I love him so much it hurts. He was such an entertaining character and his courage was awesome, he really stood out from the rest of the characters because of how different he was from all of them. He also admired all of the crows and was treated like a little brother by all of them which was so cute. The character development went from "Why am I here?" to "How can I help?" and I loved seeing him become a part of the crows. Also in that last scene where he's just leaning against the wall, beat the fuck up, was so good SAINTS.

Wylan summoned every bit of bravado he'd learned from Nina, the will he'd learned from Matthias, the focus he'd studied in Kaz the courage he'd learned from Inej, and the wild, reckless hope, he'd learned from Jesper, the belief that no matter the odds, somehow they would win.

But they were his first friends, his only friends, and Wylan knew that even if he’d had his pick of a thousand companions, these would have been the people he chose.

Matthias back with his long ass chapters (until chapter 40 LOL) (i'm so sorry that was outta pocket). Anyway, I still had meh feelings for him but I loved him and Nina's relationship. Yes, I shed a few tears when he died that shit hurt come on now. I did like to see his protective side and him overcoming his fears and past beliefs. The character development in him was immaculate.

He was on the ice once more, and somewhere he could hear the wolves howling. But this time, he knew they were welcoming him home.

The Ships

Kanej: cries. literally in tears. bawling my eyes out. throughout the entire book. THEY HELD HANDSSSSSS, HE OPENED UP TO HERRRRR, THE SHIPPPP AND THE PARENTSSSSSSSS AHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY HEARTTTTTT

I would come for you. And if I couldn't walk, I'd crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we'd fight our way out together--knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that's what we do. We never stop fighting.

Wesper: adorable adorable adorable. my favorite gay mfs in the world. Jesper is such a fucking flirt though he had ME blushing. Also when Jesper kissed Kuwei HAHAHA WHATTT, the way Kuwei was like 😏 had me gone. Anyway, the chemistry between these two was something else (so much better than in the first book) and the ending with them was wholesome I'm so happy they got the happy ending.

Wylan shrugged. “Maybe. Not all poisons have an antidote.” Jesper snorted. “That’s why we call him Wylan Van Sunshine.”

This was the kiss he’d been waiting for. It was a gunshot. It was prairie fire. It was the spin of Makker’s Wheel. Jesper felt the pounding of his heart—or was it Wylan’s?—like a stampede in his chest, and the only thought in his head was a happy, startled, Oh. (<3)

Helnik: cries. again. sobs. This one hurt me so bad, I literally was just sitting in my bed staring at the wall, book in hand, crying. They had such a beautiful relationship and they grew so much together it HURT. The way Matthias was so protective of Nina and was always worrying about her. They planned their future together in their heads all the time. They were SO HAPPY WHY COULDN"T THEY JUST BE HAPPY.

They deserved the world.

I will always protect you, even in death, I will find a way.

You aren't a flower, you're every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You are a stampede. You are overwhelming.

Final Thoughts:

My final thoughts are scattered throughout the review, but overall this book took everything from Six of Crows and made it better. It broke me, made me laugh, had me angry as fuck, but it also left me feeling like I knew these characters and they knew me. It really was so much better than the first book in so many different levels and I will never get over this book. Truly better than waffles.

[archivingspn]

2019: Twitter- Eric Kripke

therealKripke: “In honor of #SPN300, here's my original #SPN pitch from 2004. The pilot story is very different, but the tone always rang clear to me. Could never have imagined what this show became and the good it's done. Humbled and grateful beyond words to you all. #SPNFamily @cw_spn ‘[images of spn pilot’s 4pg script]’“ - 12:08 PM Feb 7, 2019

[source]

                                                                                                       1

Supernatural

Pitch by Eric Kripke August 30, 2004

I. TONE AND WORLD

In one sentence, this is X-FILES meets ROUTE 66. Two brothers, cruising the dusty back roads in their trusty 64 Mustang, battling the things that go bump in the night. But much more than that, it's a show about an obsession of mine...

Throughout the U.S., (especially the MIDDLE, where I'm from), we have a folklore, as uniquely American as baseball, as rich and varied as any world mythology, and almost nobody knows it. For instance, Robert Johnson sold his soul to the Devil, at an abandoned Mississippi crossroads, to be the world's greatest guitarist. But he died violently, poisoned at age 26, screaming about Hellhounds as he choked on his own blood. In the shadowy north woods of Minnesota, lives a creature named the Wendigo. Translated from Native American, it means "evil that devours.” It feeds on human flesh. And even today, dozens of witnesses say it's very real.

There are literally HUNDREDS of these stories and legends and urban legends. There are dark and dangerous things out there in the corners of our country. So here's a show that travels the diverse highways and byways of supernatural America. Black woods, ghost towns, those tourist trap mystery spots. Really, a show ABOUT our country-the bloody, beating heart of America.

Unlike X-FILES, this show isn't Vancouver rainy. It's brighter, more colorful, more VISCERAL, and more irreverent. The humor here is extremely important to me—but it has to arise from the characters and their attitudes. The characters can be funny, but the weekly stories have to be SCARY AS SHIT– I'm talking THE RING; how what you don't see is much more terrifying than what you do. I'm talking about making this series as scary as I possibly can, until you guys call and yell at me.

But I also want the tone to be GROUNDED. Where BUFFY, for example, felt HEIGHTENED, our show should feel like OUR WORLD, real-life America. With a darkness that bubbles and boils just beneath the surface. And I want to keep the weekly stories CREDIBLE- leave 'em with a question mark, the possibility of a rational explanation. Something early X-Files did very well.

Finally, I want this show to capture a certain SPIRIT. For one, that youthful electricity of dropping out and hitting the open road; the freedom of wide-open American spaces. But also, EVERY road trip story-from FEAR and LOATHING to Kerouac to The Odyssey, are inherently mythic quests, hero's journeys, real Joseph Campbell stuff. The way STAR WARS, LORD OF THE RINGS, and MATRIX are all the same story, with the same beats. So our series, too, is an epic hero's quest-- across the United States. Almost like a modern western, and our heroes are gunslingers. Or, as I like to call it - it's STAR WARS in TRUCK STOP AMERICA.

                                                                                                                2

II. CHARACTERS AND FRANCHISE

Now, let's get into establishing our characters, and launching our franchise.

So if this is STAR WARS, meet LUKE SKYWALKER. SAM HARRISON, 21. Think Jake Gyllenhall, or Tobey Maguire. Smart, funny, handsome, maybe a little type-A. He just graduated Stanford with a 4.0, and now he's heading back down to L.A., where he lives with his Aunt and Uncle, he'll spend the summer clerking at a powerful law firm. And in the Fall... Harvard Law, thank you very much. Pedal to the metal, Sam is cruising the track to success. But, like all good Luke Skywalker heroes, Sam is vaguely restless. He tells his girlfriend, maybe he should drop everything this summer and blow off to Europe. But of course, he doesn't. He has too many responsibilities.

Sam's well adjusted, successful life, it's a real triumph, especially considering his background. Fifteen years ago, his dad JACK became increasingly dark and depressed. He drank. A lot. Until Mom and Dad were in a car crash. Dad was driving. He lived. Mom didn't. That triggered a schizophrenic breakdown in Dad. He swore that twisted, dark, horrific things caused that crash and took Mom away. And those same dark things were chasing after him. Dad was institutionalized. But he escaped. And disappeared.

Sam is ashamed of his tragic past. Hates his Dad, blames him for killing Mom, and NEVER, EVER talks about it.

Now, Sam's mythic CALL TO ADVENTURE, the events that will change his life forever, begin simply enough. When his big brother DEAN rolls into town. Meet DEAN HARRISON, 25, think Colin Farrel. If Sam's the good kid, Dean's the troublemaker. If Sam's Luke Skywalker, Dean's Han Solo. Charismatic and dangerous. Cocky confidence masking a troubled soul. Sam hated Dad, but Dean was older and remembered Dad in brighter days, and he worshipped the man. Sam buried his past and ignored it, but Dean was haunted by it, never quite got his shit together. Dean never went to college. Just sort of traveled around. In fact, Sam hasn't heard from Dean in almost 3 years, which Sam clearly resents.

And now... Dean makes Sam a proposition. Let me drive you down to L.A.- it's just one day, we'll get a chance to catch up a little. Reluctant, Sam agrees.

At first, they're enjoying the electric, carefree pleasures of a ROAD TRIP. Top down, radio blaring, singing their lungs out to AC/DC.

But then... at twilight... on an empty stretch of highway... Dean's driving. And he has to make a confession. (Though I'm sure we'll break this up into a few different scenes.) "Sam. There's something I need to tell you," Dean says. “I went looking for Dad. And I found him. Took just about every dime I had, but I found him. And I've been with him, for almost 2 years." Sam is shocked and betrayed: "what?! Why didn't you tell me?!" But Dean continues: "listen. I know this is hard to believe. But Dad WASN'T nuts.

                                                                                                                    3

Demons really DID kill Mom. Dark, awful things WERE following Dad. I know. Because I can see them. Because they're following me, too."

Obviously, Sam is BEYOND freaked and well aware that schizophrenia is hereditary. Dean goes on, getting worked up-“so Dad figured out how to kill these things, and he showed me how. Until they caught up to us in Baker. They got Dad. Before I got them." "What do you mean, you GOT them?” asks Sam. “I killed a demon. In human form," says Dean. “You killed somebody?!" "No, I killed a DEMON, it only LOOKED human.” (Which could be a scary, visceral teaser, by the way.) Anyway, DEAN continues: “Listen to me, Sam... it was Dad's wish, his DYING WISH, that I find you, that I teach you the way he taught me.” At this point, Sam goes into placating, survival mode. “Okay. Sure. Just calm down." But Sam's terrified-of his own brother.

Meanwhile, as this conversation's going on, Dean isn't going to L.A. He takes a detour-- for all intents and purposes, kidnapping Sam. They pull into a small, faded, all-American town in Central California. It's 1950's American optimism gone to seed. Basically, they pull right into the pilot's SELF ENCLOSED B-STORY. Whatever it is, the story should be simple, giving us room to focus on the brothers. It should be based in Folklore. And it should be personal—the job their father never completed.

Now, here's an example of exactly the kind of story I'm talking about. The real life ghost story of the "Weeping Woman," a sobbing wraith in a bloody white nightgown. She murdered her children by the river side, as revenge against her unfaithful husband. And today, it's said she lures unfaithful men to the river and drowns them. And sure enough, several MEN in this town have turned up dead by the river's edge. Anyway, something like this. And Dean, despite his smart ass jokes and references to the movie Poltergeist, seems to be taking this SERIOUSLY.

But Sam doesn't believe a WORD of it. First moment he's alone, he calls his Aunt and Uncle. “I'm with Dean, I think he's sick.” They tell him—"cops in Baker found your Dad's body. And a truck driver's body, too. Dean's the suspect. You have to get away! Where are you?!” But before Sam can answer-he pivots, right into Dean. Who grabs the phone, SMASHING it, furious: “Dammit, Sam, I'm not insane," Dean says, “Caspar the unfriendly fucker is really out there!"

Then, as Dean delves deeper and deeper into the ghost story, dragging a reluctant Sam along with him... INEXPLICABLE SUPERNATURAL phenomenon begin to occur, which SERIOUSLY RATTLES Sam. We'll have several good, scary set pieces. And soon, Sam doesn't know WHAT to think. And in the B-STORY'S climax, he'll even save Dean at some crucial point. (Though we'll be careful to leave things open ended, with just the possibility of a logical explanation.)

Afterwards, a beat in which Dean, vulnerable, says to his brother-"I've been thinking. And you're going home, Sam. You're smart, and you've got everything going for you. I don't care what Dad said, I can't let you live like this... Still," says Dean, "it was nice having you around. When you're with somebody... you just don't feel as crazy as

                                                                                                                   4

often." Sam's very conflicted, and he feels awful, but he can't just abandon his old life. So the brothers part ways. Sam hitchhikes up the road. Meanwhile, thanks to his Aunt and Uncle, the cops have been searching for Sam, and now they find him.

At the station, Sam tells the cops, Dean's in Colorado by now. But a patrol car has spotted Dean's parked Mustang at a nearby motel. The police grab SHOTGUNS, they're going to take Dean with force. And in the face of ONE PASSING COP, Sam sees-a glimpse. A shimmer. Something DEMONIC and INHUMAN flashes across the cop's face-and then it's gone, just as quick. Did Sam imagine it? Is he going insane, too? Or is Dean really in danger? Are dark, awful things really after him, like he said?

This is Sam's crossroads moment. And he makes a decision-he takes off. Steals a car. Beats the cops back to Dean. Warns him at the last minute. It's very TIGHT and very HECTIC, but Sam and Dean get away. Escaping by the skin of their teeth.

As we leave Sam... he doesn't know if he's losing his mind. He doesn't know if Dean's a hero or a homicidal schizophrenic. All he knows is-Dean's his brother, and he needs help. And for now, that's enough.

III. THE SERIES ITSELF

I think the overall GOAL here, is building an engine that gives us SELF ENCLOSED STORIES. I am gonna pitch some very simple mythology, but STAND ALONES are a format I really believe in, they're the shows I loved and grew up on. Like the best EARLY episodes of X-FILES.

So basically, our two heroes, avenging their parents' death, cruise the golden backroads of America-picture chrome diners and bucolic farms and dusty Route 66 towns. Places that are mythic and American, but also haunting, in a way. Places where horror can strike in broad daylight. Sam and Dean are kind of like classic gunslingers, or dragon slayers, finding-and KILLING—the monsters of American folklore.

So first question-how do they find the damn things? Dean tracks these creatures in a low-tech way. He scans obituaries for strange deaths. Dean also has a loose network of contacts - defrocked ministers and trailer park psychics, who impart information to our heroes whenever necessary.

Second question-how do they KILL the damn things? The answer—they have no fucking idea. They're outgunned and desperate and in completely over their heads. They don't have a WATCHER, like in BUFFY. They don't have an OBI WAN. They're on their own. Each week, they gotta figure out what the hell they're dealing with, and how the hell to kill it. And a lot of the time, they're wrong, and they have to improvise. Whether it's finding a ghost's remains - and burning them into dust; or loading a shotgun with silver buckshot, our guys will do whatever it takes to get the job done.

[ireadyabooks]

Books to Read in 2021

It’s a NEW YEAR, everyone! 

We made it through 2020, and whether or not you hit your reading goal this past year, don’t worry! 2021 is a new year for your TBR, and we have an AMAZING line-up of books you should add to your reading list ASAP.

THE LIFE I’M IN 

This story of the power of forgiveness and second chances presents the unflinching story of a young woman trapped in the underworld of human trafficking. In Sharon G. Flake's latest and unflinching novel, we follow Charlese Jones, who, with her raw, blistering voice speaks the truths many girls face, offering insight to some of the causes and conditions that make a bully. Turned out of the only home she has known, Char boards a bus to nowhere where she is lured into the dangerous web of human trafficking.

HOLD BACK THE TIDE

A darkly seductive story of murder, betrayal, love, and family secrets in a small town in the Scottish Highlands. Alva knows that her father killed her mother, but she can’t prove it. The more she investigates though, the more she realizes that the truth can be more monstrous than lies/ And while you might be able to outrun anything that emerges from the dark water, you can never escape your past . . .

MUTED 

Denver is more than ready on the day she and her best friends Dali and Shak sing their way into the orbit of the biggest R&B star in the world, Sean "Mercury" Ellis. Merc gives them everything: parties, perks, wild nights -- plus hours and hours in the recording studio. Even the painful sacrifices and the lies the girls have to tell are all worth it. Until they're not. Denver begins to realize that she's trapped in Merc's world, struggling to hold on to her own voice. As the dream turns into a nightmare, she must make a choice: lose her big break, or get broken.

THE POETRY OF SECRETS

A lyrical portrait of hidden identities and forbidden love set against the harrowing backdrop of the Spanish Inquisition. Isabel’s dreams to pursue poetry and a partner of her own choosing are thrown into jeopardy when the Spanish Inquisition reaches her small town. 

SHURI #2: THE VANISHED 

Shuri, the Princess of Wakanda (and sister to the Black Panther), sets out to save a group of kidnapped girls in this all-new, original novel by New York Times bestselling author Nic Stone!

BRIDGE OF SOULS

Where there are ghosts, Cassidy Blake follows . . .unless it's the other way around? Cass thinks she might have this ghost-hunting thing down. But nothing can prepare Cass for New Orleans, which wears all of its hauntings on its sleeve. And the city's biggest surprise is a foe Cass never expected to face: a servant of Death itself.

FOLLOW YOUR ARROW

When bisexual influencer CeCe breaks up with her girlfriend, Silvie, she’s devastated. But then she starts falling for a new guy who has no idea she’s internet famous...and CeCe wants to keep it that way. But as her secrets catch up to her, she finds herself in the middle of an online storm, where she'll have to confront the blurriness of public vs. private life, and figure out what it really means to speak her truth.   

MIRROR’S EDGE

The danger rises and the deception grows in the heart-stopping third book in the New York Times bestselling Impostors series! Are twins Frey and Rafi on the same side . . . or are they playing to their own agendas? If their father is deposed from Shreve, who will take control? And what other forces may be waiting in the wings?

ZARA HOSSAIN IS HERE

Zara's family has waited years for their visa process to be finalized so that they can officially become US citizens. While dealing with the Islamophobia that she faces at school, Zara has to lay low. But when her tormentor vandalizes her house with racist graffiti, a violent crime puts Zara’s entire future at risk. Now she must pay the ultimate price and choose between fighting to stay in the only place she's ever called home or losing the life she loves and everyone in it.

REMEDY

It's a mystery - why is Cara so sick? It feels like she's been sick all her life . . . but she and her mom have never stayed in one place long enough for doctors to really understand what's happening to her. Now, at fourteen, Cara is tired of being tired, and sick of being sick. Unable to afford the care she needs, Cara's mom starts a Caring for Cara campaign online. The money starts pouring in. But something's not right to Cara. And the harder she looks, the less she understands.

HEARTSTOPPER VOLUME 3

The third volume in the poignant and sweet Heartstopper series, featuring beautiful two-color artwork! Charlie didn't think Nick could ever like him back, but now they're officially boyfriends. Nick has even found the courage to come out to his mom. But coming out isn't something that happens just once, and Nick and Charlie try to figure out when to tell their friends that they're dating. Not being out to their classmates gets even harder during a school trip to Paris. As Nick and Charlie's feelings get more serious, they'll need each other more than ever.

THE BLOCK

In the second book of The Loop trilogy, Luka is trapped in a fate worse than death. But now that he knows the truth about what he and his fellow inmates are being used for, it's more important than ever that he not only escapes, but that he builds an army.

ON THE HOOK

Hector has always minded his own business while he works towards a better life. Until Joey, whose older brother, Chavo, is head of the Discípulos gang, tells Hector that he's going to kill him: maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday. And Hector, frozen with fear, does nothing. From that day forward, Hector's death is hanging over his head every time he leaves the house. But when a fight between Chavo and Hector's brother escalates, Hector is left with no choice but to take a stand. It's up to Hector to choose whether he's going to lose himself to revenge or get back to the hard work of living.

MISTER IMPOSSIBLE

Do the dreamers need the ley lines to save the world . . . or will their actions end up dooming the world? As Ronan, Hennessy, and Bryde try to make dreamers more powerful, the Moderators are closing in, sure that this power will bring about disaster. In the remarkable second book of The Dreamer Trilogy, Maggie Stiefvater pushes her characters to their limits – and shows what happens to them and others when they start to break.

THE GHOSTS WE KEEP 

Everything happens for a reason.At least that's what everyone keeps telling Liam Cooper after his older brother Ethan is killed suddenly in a hit-and-run. Feeling more alone and isolated than ever, Liam has to not only learn to face the world without one of the people he loved the most, but also face the fading relationships of his two best friends in the process. Soon, Liam finds themself spending time with Ethan's best friend, Marcus, who might just be the only person that seems to know exactly what they're going through - for better and for worse.

SIMONE BREAKS ALL THE RULES

Simone is shaking things up by making a bucket list of everything she hasn’t been able to do thanks to her strict Haitian immigrant parents. But as the list takes on a life of its own, things get much more complicated than Simone expected. She'll have to discover which rules are worth breaking, and which might save her from heartbreak.

SPEAK FOR YOURSELF

Skylar is ready to show everyone that her latest app is brilliant by winning an academic competition. To do that, she's going to use it to win State at the Scholastic Exposition, the nerdiest academic competition around. But when she falls for one of her team members and things get complicated, is her path to greatness over before it begins?

THE GIRL FROM THE SEA

A graphic novel about family, romance, and first love! Morgan's biggest secret is that she has a lot of secrets, including the one about wanting to kiss another girl. Then one night, Morgan is saved from drowning by a mysterious girl named Keltie. The two become friends and suddenly life on the island doesn't seem so stifling anymore. But Keltie has some secrets of her own. And as the girls start to fall in love, everything they're each trying to hide will find its way to the surface...whether Morgan is ready or not.

RISE TO THE SUN

Three days. Two girls. One life-changing music festival. Toni is reeling in the wake of the loss of her roadie father and desperate to figure out where her life will go from here. Olivia is a hopeless romantic whose heart has just taken a beating (again). When the two collide at the Farmland Music and Arts Festival, it feels like kismet. But when something goes wrong and the festival is sent into a panic, Toni and Olivia find that they need each other, and the music, more than they ever imagined.

YOU & ME AT THE END OF THE WORLD

Hannah Ashton wakes up to silence. The entire city around her is empty, except for one other person: Leo Sterling. Leo might be the hottest boy ever (and not just because he's the only one left), but he's also too charming, too selfish, and too devastating for his own good, let alone Hannah's. Together, they search for answers amid crushing isolation. But while their empty world may appear harmless . . . it's not. Because nothing is quite as it seems, and if Hannah and Leo don't figure out what's going on, they might just be torn apart forever.

IN THE SAME BOAT 

Sadie is ready for the race of a lifetime: The Texas River Odyssey. But then her brother ditches her and she has to pair up with her former best friend, Cully. It's irritating enough that he grew up to be so attractive, but once they're on the river it turns out he's ill-prepared for such a dangerous race. But as the miles pass, the pain of the race builds, they uncover the truth about their feuding families, and Sadie's feelings for Cully begin to shift. Could this race change her life more than she ever could have imagined?

THE GREAT DESTROYERS 

In this alternate-history novel, Jo joins the Pax Games: an Olympics-style competition that pits pilots of mechas against each other. But when fighters start dying in the arena, Jo is drawn into a deadly political plot. In a global arms race between superpowers, playing out in violent games that only humanity could create, comes a chilling story of clashing titans, ruthless competition, freedom, and the girl caught in the middle of it all.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Kingdom Collisions XII

Masterlist for other parts, more jercy, crackships and bad ideas

writing fic=more description=(hopefully) improve writing

no prewritten chapters=sporadic updates=as surprised as you about what happens

The water always lies.

"Grover," Prince Percy Jackson squealed excitedly, "Grover, Grover, Grover!"

The boy, barely as tall as the countertop, smiled at his friend with sparkling eyes, "Yes Prince?"

"Will you tell me a story?"

"What about Prince?"

"About the magic world." He said in a conspiratorial whisper.

"How about why the rocks in the river are black?"

Little Percy scrunched his nose, already uninterested in anything about rocks but his friend interrupted before he could protest, "You will like this story I promise." The little boy winked.

His sea green eyes lit up like water droplets in the sun. "Tell me!"

So they sat down cross-legged in the grass, the shade of a willow tree protecting them, and looked at each other as if there was no-one else in the world.

"Once upon a time, long long ago..." Grover started. "There lived two kingdoms, at peace and thriving. One was the Kingdom of Sun or as it was known then the Kingdom of ilanga. The buildings were white, their streets were cobbled grey and the people were beautiful beyond words. They looked like me. Dark skin, and coiled hair. With noses that could smell from miles away, and ears that could hear the softest whispers, and mouths that spoke the kindest words."

"What about their eyes Grover?" Little Percy bounced, energy pulsating from him.

"Oh Prince their eyes were the most beautiful of all. For they were every shade of earth. They were the brown of the sand, and the green of the trees, and the yellow of the sun. Gorgeous worldly shades. The people loved living in their kingdom with its endless summer and it's long days. There was hardly anytime to experience the night for it blinked in and out faster than they could catch it. The streets were always filled with brightness, parades and markets and celebration. Ribbons wrapped around every pole and doors were the colour of rainbows.” Life twinkled bright in Grover’s eyes, and Percy felt so proud just then to have such a lovely friend

“On the opposite side,” He continued, “Joined only by a small brook was the Kingdom of Alina. The night. They were always in darkness, stars twinkling like diamonds above them and the moon always full. Their buildings were made from black rock with tiny flecks of starlight in them so that when it caught the light of the moon it seemed to sparkle. Make no mistake they were not covered in inky blackness all the time. For their streets were lined with precious stones. Emeralds encrusted on their poles. And sapphires for their roofs. Aquamarine where the water met the land. And rubies for the pavements. The Kingdom was rich with jewels. But the people did not consider themselves wealthy for it. No, the stones were as much a part of the city as they were. And oh how the people looked. They were as pale as the moon and with hair as bright as their stars. Curiously they shared much of the same features as their friends across the way. Nose, and mouth, and listening ears. But their eyes," Grover stopped to take in a deep breath

" Their eyes were the colours of their precious gems. Zircon and amethyst and opal and every shade possible. There was no real day except for one or two hours in the early morning when they sky morphed into the palest of blues. It was at that time everyday when the two kingdoms met, the light of ilanga and the dark of Alina. Though they never interacted beyond their shared brook they loved each other intently. Loved each other the only way you can love something that is at peace. Gently and without disturbance. They loved each other alone."

The water always lies.

"Wow," Little Percy blinked, awe radiating from him. "The kingdoms sound wonderful."

"Yes but now we must get to why I'm telling you this story. The people and the land lived peacefully side by side, though not interacting but always knowing, understanding. It was not that they weren't allowed to see one another it was that they couldn't. For they were not made for each others cities. They could not withstand the atmosphere. But-” He placed great emphasis on the word “One day two babies were born at the exact same time on the exact same day. One to the Kingdom of Alina and one to the Kingdom of ilanga."

Little Percy gasped, small hands covering his mouth in shock.

Grover gave a look, "The baby of Alina looked exactly like a child of ilanga and the baby of ilanga looked exactly like a child of Alina. The people were confused and it is the nature of living things to be wary when they are disoriented. So when someone suggested kidnapping there was nothing to be done as the worlds folded in on themselves and the kingdoms declared war. Peace was not an option when children were the cause. Peace was not in their heart when these children were not theirs. So they discarded the two bundles of beating hearts and destroyed each other. But if they had just looked, had just taken the time they would have seen what was right in front of them. For the baby of ilanga that was born in Alina, although had dark skin and black hair had eyes like emeralds. And the child of Alina, born in ilanga, although had skin as pale as starlight and hair as white as moonlight, had eyes the colour of an ilangan sky, a common earthly occurnce in the kingdom. But the people saw none of that and so the children were abandoned and the peace was lost and lands were bloodied. For 25 years. By the tenth year the citizens no longer knew the reason they fought. By the fifteenth year they had lost more than they gained. By the twentieth year their only hope of survival was each other. But nothing changed. The fought, and destroyed, and killed with all the vengeance of the first sword strike.

Grover takes a deep breath, “The first day of the twenty-fifth year two beings, long since grown from the discarded children they had been, stepped onto the battlefield, hand in hand. They stood in that brook, once clear enough to see white stone and flecks of gemstone, now red with blood. Stood in that brook and looked on at the battle still raging around them. They did not say anything, did not do anything but stand. Slowly people stopped to watch them. For they looked as foreign, and strange among the crowd as they once did.

The one with green eyes looked to them and said, "We are the children you fight this war over. We are the ones you shed blood for. We are the ones you have killed for. But today that ends. Today we join as one peoples and stop this madness."

The water always lies.

"For remember I told you Prince," Grover looked at him, "That they had killed too many to live separately. Their only hope of survival was to join forces. But the people did not want that. They had been fighting this war for twenty five years and many had not know any other way. Another thing you must know about the nature of living things is that it does not like change. So they refused and they fought more and they continued as if those two beings did not stand before them offering peace. The beings, seeing nothing was going to change did the only thing they could do. The one with emerald eyes slammed their fist into the earth and destroyed the field. And the one with cerulean eyes took that cracked earth and flung it into the air. When it was all over there was no-one left standing, not even them. No, in their place stood a river, with obsidian rocks and water that glistened rainbows. White stone surrounded it on either side. It was the perfect product of both kingdoms."

"So that's why the rocks are black." Little Percy nodded knowingly.

"Yes and the legend is,” His voice lowers, barely a breath, “When the healer and the destroyer finally meet again the obsidian will give away to diamond, the river will once more run clear, and the people will finally be at peace once more."

"I love that story Grover!" He squealed, falling back into the grass with joy.

"I'm glad you do Prince. It is very close to my heart."

The water always lies.

Percy Jackson gasps, and inhales mouthfuls of water. The memory fades, disintegrates from his mind. He grapples for it but it's gone. He is still underwater, although how much time had passed he doesn't know.

His body is bare and his skin is icy but for some reason he can breathe. So he does. Big lungfuls of air. He doesn't have time to think about the Princess of Hekima's attempt at murder, he needs to find his husband. Dead or alive he needs to find Jason.

He let's the current drag him out while some semblance of a plan takes form in his head. He doesn't know who he can trust right now. And he doesn't enjoy being made fool twice. But suddenly something is pulling him up, up, and out of the water. He comes up with a gasp, the world blinding. He is dropped on sun-warmed rock and he blinks himself back into existence.

The water always lies.

Standing over him is Grover.

"What the fuck." He mutters, staring up at his....... friend?

"Why were you in the river? You were drowning."

"I wasn't," He frowns, trying to get his brain started, get his priorities straight. "Where is Jason?"

"Why were you in there?" It is the voice of a King that talks to him.

Percy ignores the question. "Where is my husband?"

"Why were you in the river Prince?" Grover has never gotten angry, but there is a waver in his voice that makes the Prince hesitate. He looks up, into those dark eyes and there is worry and concern, and something wholly unnatural reflecting in them.

"The Princess of Hekima, Annabeth Chase, pushed me in."

Something flashes across the King's expression but he doesn't quite catch it. "I will take you to the Prince."

And then Grover is walking away, through the waterfall and out of sight. Percy doesn't have time to question the uneasy look, or the events that have occurred because the King is already out of sight and he can't lose him in this maze. He doesn't even know it they're still in the tree he woke up in. Gods it seems like days and weeks ago, but it was really only this morning.

"Grover?" He calls, moving through the waterfall and into a cave.

He sees his advisor's silhouette and races to catch up.

"Is your entire Kingdom inside a tree?" He asks, finally reaching him.

It is not Grover who walks beside him. It is a creature as vile and deathly as rotting flesh. It is a creature made of horrors. It is nightmares themselves.

"Gro—Grover—" He mutters, slowly stepping back.

The creature just looks on, eyes ever changing but hollow all the same.

"King!" His voice is full of alarm but he tries to be quiet. He doesn't know what sets this creature off and being the cause of his own demise doesn't sound particularly worthy.

"Grover please."

"Will you make your wish Crown Prince Perseus Jackson?" It hisses abruptly.

"What— what wish?" He's caught so off guard some of his fear slips away.

"You have a wish Prince of Mare, I hear it in your heart."

"I—" He doesn't know what to say, do, be. He wants to run. But those long spindly legs look devastatingly fast and he knows he doesn't stand a chance. "I don't have a wish."

It chuckles, throaty and unpleasant. The sounds scrapes in his ears. "Oh but you do little prince. Tell me your wish and you can go."

The water always lies.

He takes a deep breath. And another. And another. It was easier underwater. "I wish to see my husband."

The creature laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and the sound dissolves into the cave, echoes like broken shards.

"Are you sure Prince?"

"Who are you?"

"I am the partidari." It gives some twisted form of a smile. "And your wish is my command."

Before he can protest, stop it, end this, the creature becomes dust and then disappears altogether and in its place is the unmoving body of Prince Jason Grace.

Something cracks in his chest as he dives for his husband, and when his arms go through him he breaks altogether.

"Where are you?" He sobs.

Thousands of meters below, at the bottom of the river, nestled like a sleeping God between charcoal black rocks, is Prince Jason Grace. Unmoving, unconscious, and alive.

Prince Percy Jackson curls into a ball and cries for the life he no longer recognizes, the friends he no longer has, and the husband he had once hated so vehemently it became something else, something different, more.

And down below in that river of rainbows, obsidian rock give away to diamond.

the destroyer cries.

the healer dies.

and the water never lies.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@nishlicious-01​

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​

@leydiangelo​

@sparkythunderstorm​

@makos-bi-awakening​

@aalikun​

[sherlockfanficwriting]

Sherlock “Save her” (x reader)

Summary - You’re Sherlock’s friend and you are each other’s world. Carelessly you roam around in town one day. You are kidnapped by Jim Moriarty and soon forced to jump to your death. Will Sherlock find you? If he does, will it be too late?

Warnings - drowning, some violence 

A/N - This is a good story, one of my favorites that I have written so far. If you guys like it tell me and send some requests!

“(Y/N), I can’t understand how you love looking at dead bodies!” Sherlock cried to you as the two of you walked to his flat. It was a beautiful rainy day. You had been on a case with Sherlock for most of it and were tired.

“Do not twist my words! I said they’re interesting!” You said, playfully pushing his arm. 

“Come on, take me!” Sherlock yelled, spreading his arms, taunting you to throw a punch. 

“Oh, not now, when you’re least expecting it I will. After all, I’m smarter than you.” 

Sherlock scoffed. For the whole year that you had known him, you swept him off his feet when you first met. Your intelligence, it was not like his because it was a different kind. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he liked it. He didn’t know what you were, but he knew that he really liked you. 

“You’re smart. Very smart. I’ll give you that,” he said smiling. You saw his flat in the distance and it started to rain harder. You sprinted to it, leaving Sherlock in the dust. You were a very fast runner and loved doing this randomly to him. You opened the door and bolted upstairs, practically tripping down on the floor. 

“Sherlock?” John cried from inside. 

“Not him,” you said. 

“You okay?” He asked, walking to you. You hopped up. 

Before you could say anything Sherlock came running in and said, “I’ll beat you one day.” 

John looked confused. “Beat her? In what?” 

“Karate,” you said, causing Sherlock and you to erupt in laughter. 

“That’s it. I’ll be in my room,” John said, walking away. 

“Nice to see you too John!” You cried out. 

“He hates us,” Sherlock said to you in a low voice. 

“I heard that!” John cried from away. You smiled at Sherlock. He was like your twin. You had so much in common and you loved being together doing random things. 

“I should probably leave,” you told him, adjusting your crossbody. Sherlock looked up at you, almost sadly. 

“Are you sure? It’s not the best weather. We can have a violin contest.” 

You shook your head. As much as you wanted to stay, you wanted to take a long walk and get yourself lost. You loved to be with Sherlock, but you needed some time to yourself to just be free and think. Letting your mind wander. 

“Tomorrow? I know you’re busy with that guy, uh James?” 

“Jim Moriarty. “You’re right. It’s not easy, but I’m working on him,” he said making a small space with his thumb and index finger, “I’m this close.” 

You nodded. You knew he worked hard especially for that horrible man. It didn’t make sense to you, the whole crime stuff and hacking and killing. It was horrible, but at least Sherlock liked to do it. 

“I’ll see you later, Sherlock.” You backed up to the door. 

“Text me if you need anything.” 

You turned around about to walk out, but Sherlock said, “Where are you going now?” 

You stopped. “Just out and about really.” 

“Sounds boring. Be safe,” he said, waving to you. You skipped down the steps and into the London rain. It was a steady rain, but it didn’t bother you much. The sky was darkening, but slow. You figured you had time to walk by the river and explore wherever your legs took you. 

You walked down alleys, foreign roads, by tourists, and made sure you were immensely lost. There was no fun in walking around the same part of town that you knew so well. There weren’t many people around, but the ones you passed looked rather....sketchy. You tried not to pay much attention to them, but couldn’t help feeling in danger. You brushed it off as being paranoid, something that happened quite often. You thought you looked vulnerable. You were wearing loose black pants, a white blouse, and a black blazer with navy flats. If anyone saw you they knew you didn’t belong in this part. Worst of all you didn’t have your knife. That knife was important to you. It kept you out of trouble, cut things for you, and made you feel safe. It was like a large knife, but a small sword. You had left it in your own apartment, which was god knows, miles away from where you were. You continued walking on when all of a sudden you heard loud footsteps behind you. 

You whipped your head around, startled. You couldn’t see them well and realized how dark it was. The sky was a dark blue, preventing you from making out who this person was. You faced forward, brushing it off and sped up your walking. The person behind you did the same. You were now certain that they were following you. 

You stopped walking and faced them. 

“Do you need anything?” You asked. They took a step closer to you. They were about two inches taller than you with a slim figure. Wore dark clothes and had dark hair. Pale skin. You couldn’t make out his facial features much. 

“Yes, in fact, I do,” he said. He didn’t have a British accent. You weren’t British yourself and you found it difficult to pinpoint what European accent some people had. It sounded like American but had a twist. It wasn’t Canadian, maybe Northern European. You didn’t know. 

“Well, what is it? I don’t have much money, but you can have it,” you said to him, trying to remain calm. 

He laughed. A deep sadistic laugh. “No, dear. I need you.” 

You panicked. You turned around and started to run, but a pair of strong arms stopped you from doing so. They lifted you off the ground, squeezing you hard. You flung your legs around, going crazy. Then you started to scream. His hand covered your mouth, preventing you, and he put something around your nose while he did so. Your eyes became weaker as did your body and you soon collapsed. 

------------

You woke up and quickly opened your eyes, trying to see where you were. Soon, the past events came flooding back to you. You looked around the room. Bright room. Bright lights. You were lying down on the floor, surprisingly no restraints. You knew you had to remain calm, you had to do whatever you could do to survive. It was probably morning already. You must had been knocked down for hours. 

You got up slowly and walked around the room. 

“Hello?” You cried out. 

“Why hello, (Y/N),” the same man said. You turned around. He was standing in the corner of the room as if he had emerged from thin air. 

“Please, don’t hurt me. Why am I here? What did I do?” You pleaded. 

He moved closer to you. “Oh, you? Nothing. Sherlock, something.” 

“Sherlock? What has he got to do with this?” 

“I’m Jim Moriarty.” His voice echoed through the room. You shivered when you heard those words and remembered Sherlock talking about him. He was a dangerous man. He was trying to stop him. 

“I-I what do you need?” 

“I told you. You.” His voice was deeper and more serious. At this point, you were frightened and wondered if Sherlock knew something was wrong.

“I’m here.” You stated blankly.  

“I’m aware. You,” he said, pointing at you childishly, “are going to come with me. He walked faster toward you and grabbed your wrist forcefully. You let him, there was no point in fighting back at this point. He swung open the door and walked up a flight of steep steps. You didn’t know where you were going. The hallway and stairs were dark. His grasp on your wrist tightened, causing you to succumb to the pain. 

You reached the top and he bolted open a ceiling door. He stepped up dragging you with him. You were at the roof. It was morning. The cold air made you more alert. You were more frightened. Why were you on a roof. He let go of your wrist, but stood close to you, staring you down. Suddenly he took out a phone from his pocket. Your phone.

“Let’s get Sherlock here,” he said, flashing a picture of you. 

“Done.” He threw the phone over the roof. You ran over. The building was right on the edge of the river where it landed. You swallowed. There was something seriously wrong with this man. 

“Let’s have some fun.” He clapped his hands together.  

--------------

“Sherlock you got a text,” John said, holding a cup of tea. Sherlock was sitting down, looking through a microscope. 

“Who’s it from?” He asked. 

John looked at the phone. 

“It’s (Y/N).” 

Sherlock snapped up and took the phone. He opened the message. A picture of you, mostly your face. Your eyes, always bright and lively, looked sad. You weren’t normal. Your lips, slightly quivered. Your expression. Always happy and charming was different. Your skin, pale, looked cold. The wind blew a few strands of hair in your face. But, most importantly, you didn’t take the picture.

Sherlock quickly put his jacket on. John didn’t question him, but followed. As he flew down the steps and onto the street, he glanced at the photo again. Water in the background. Down below. You were on a roof. He called for a taxi, his mind thinking about scenarios and how to get to you. 

“Kidnapped?” John asked. 

“Moriarty.” 

----------------

“Today, you are dying. Quite soon actually.” Moriarty’s voice didn’t even instill fear in you anymore. You had established the fact that you would get hurt badly or probably die soon anyway. You felt no more emotion except the longing for Sherlock. 

“How? How am I going to die?” 

Moriarty walked closer to you, his hand on your back leading you to the edge of the roof. 

“Water.” 

Chills went up to your spine. You couldn’t swim. How did he know this? You couldn’t fight him. He had thousands of backup plans. He would just shoot you or throw you off point-blank. Hundreds of memories and emotions flashed through your head. It was like your life was flashing back, but you did it voluntarily. 

“Can I call him?” You pleaded to him. 

“Please do. He’s on his way.” He handed you his own phone and you dialed his number, pressing the phone against your ear. It didn’t even ring before Sherlock picked up. 

“(Y/N), what’s he doing. Are you hurt? We’re coming,” Sherlock’s voice boomed. 

“I’m fine, but it’s no use. I’ll be gone shortly.” Your voice quivered. Fear snuck up on you again. 

“What? No, you don’t do anything and stay there.” 

“Sherlock, I can’t. I love you, I really do. Just don’t bother. I’m so sorry, I have to do this. He’s making me.” 

“(Y/N), wa-.” You hung up and handed him back his phone. 

“Now is time. This will ruin Sherlock forever. Just my plan.” He motioned you to step on the ledge. You did. You looked out. You could see the long dark river and the buildings across. You didn’t know what drowning would be like, but you tried not to think about it as you would find out soon. You took a minute to gather your thoughts before you did so. 

“Time is ticking. You have 30 seconds or I’ll push you.” 

-----------------

“Stop the car!” Sherlock cried, sprinting out. He knew where you were. He was three blocks away but he could see you from the top. He was on the bridge. Close enough, but far. He didn’t know what to do. 

“Please stay up longer, please,” he said. He sprinted down the bridge and into the street, desperate to get to you. He knew you couldn’t swim. His legs carried him fast across the city. Desire pumping through his body. 

-----------------

“Your time is up.” 

You didn’t notice it but you were crying. You looked down at the water. Hard dark waves splashed against the building. You stood up straight, counting down. You kept a happy thought in your head. Sherlock. He would be the last thing you would think about. You closed your eyes, slightly extended your arms and jumped off. You landed in the cold water and opened your eyes. You were sinking and flailed your arms around. It just made it harder. You were panicking. Your strength was lost and the water began to overcome you. You held your breath as you sunk fast. Your eyes were closed. Terror flooded over your body. You breathed in water, but it suffocated you. Soon your arms and legs stopped moving as you were just a lifeless body drifting away. 

------------------

Sherlock sprinted through the streets, eager to get to you. Adrenaline rushed through his whole body. He was scared. He predicted you had already jumped and he was right. He knew you didn’t have much time. He saw the building in the distance and ran faster to it. When he reached it he ran along the alley leading to the back. He looked up at the spot where you were standing and predicted your jump. He stared at the water for a moment, about to jump in, and prepared himself. You were all he loved and he realized it. His will to fight, not just for you, was something you both shared, but you were in your weakness. Water. 

Without hesitation, he hopped on the ledge and dove in the water. He started swimming underwater, arms extended trying to feel for you. He couldn’t find you. He swam deeper and deeper everywhere, fiercely searching. It took him a minute, but he felt something familiar. Your hair. He traced it to your body and wrapped his arms around you, pulling your body up. 

“(Y/N)!” He screamed. Your head just moved lifelessly around. He looked at the ledge again, trying to figure out how to get you on land.

A ladder. 

He swam quickly to it, holding you close. 

“Sherlock!” John screamed. He was right above the ladder. Sherlock reached it and stepped carefully but quickly on the step. John stepped closer, extending his arms for your lifeless body. Sherlock ran up the steps and kneeled next to you. 

John did so too, trying to feel for a pulse. He shook his head, trying not to cry. Sherlock began pressing on your chest, trying to start your heartbeat. He did so firmly and never stopped. He wouldn’t let Moriarty win. Not you. He breathed into your mouth and back into pushing. He kept his eyes fixed on you. Your lips, red, were turning purple from the cold. Your skin was white and paler. Your lively eyes shut close. This wasn’t going to be how he remembered you last. He knew you could overcome this. You were like him. 

You inhaled air fast and your upper body rose from the ground. You choked out water. You didn’t know what happened. Sherlock, who was crying, wrapped his arms tightly around you, burying his face in you. John held your hand. You focused on your breathing. You felt weak, but you remembered Sherlock just saved your life. How would you thank him? You couldn’t believe it. 

“Sherlock,” you said. 

He directed his gaze on you, holding your body up from hitting the ground. 

“I really do love you.” You hugged him and kissed his cheek. He did so back and embraced you, warming your cold body. You didn’t want to move. You only wanted to be by him and stay in that position forever. He was your world, and you were his. He didn’t let his cherished world die. 

[spideyswebhead]

Loose Screw (Arthur Morgan X OC)

I don’t know why since seeing The Devil All The Time trailer I’ve been thinking of Red Dead Redemption 2 again, maybe it’s because I saw someone mention that was Tom’s “YeeHaw” voice. But anyway, Arthur and Emmaline are on my mind again. So enjoy this one-shot with these two babies.

Also this is a first with writing this type of scene, so be gentle on me for it!

Summary: Emmaline tries to talk to Arthur about Dutch plans.

Word Count: 2,224 (This became longer than I intended)

Warnings: Murder -♡- means it started and when it’s over if you need to skip. And slight spoilers to chapter 3 and 4

(1st gif by @river-the-fox and 2nd is @whitewolfofwinterfell​)

Arthur burst through the door of Angelo Bronte bedroom most likely. Instantly raising his gun to kill the guard who had been hiding behind the bed, but fell to the ground with a bullet wound in their head before they could do anything to defend their boss. “John! In here!” Arthur calls for Marston.

Bronte raised up from the bathtub which turned out to be where the lizard was hiding, aiming his gun at the two men but found he had no ammo left. Cursing in Italian that Arthur didn’t understand - nor cared to understand - and in panic threw his gun. Hitting John square in the face.

“AH! Goddammit!” John yelps in pain from the impact, his hand flying to his face.

Arthur probably would’ve laughed at the scene of John being hit in the face with a gun, but he was focused on getting Bronte. Who pleaded with the two men as he stepped out of the bath with his hands raised.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry, friend, I... no, name your price! Name your price, every man has a price, eh?”

John had recovered from the blow of Bronte’s gun and advanced to the man before clocking Bronte in the face, knocking him out cold. “Should we kill him?” John asks Arthur, staring at Angelo Bronte with disgust.

“Nah, let’s take him to Dutch.” Arthur told him as he shouldered his rifle.

“You carry him. I ain’t touching this piece of shit.”

Arthur nodded wordlessly, walking to the unconscious man, feeling his pocket and coming up with $155, he hummed appreciatively at the find and would put it in the camp funds box once they return to camp and pocketed the money before he picked up the lizard. “I think Dutch wants to have a little chat, Mr. Bronte.”

Arthur could hear the whistle of the law coming to answer to their invasion “Shit.” John mutters.

“C’mon, Morgan! We’re getting the hell out of here!” Bill exclaims.

-♡-

Dutch woke up Bronte who looked at all the men in the boat looking ready to kill him, but let their leader speak to him before they would do anything. “Hey, big guy. We gonna ransom you or what?” Dutch said to him.

“You’re pathetic.” Bronte says, sliding further up the boat, not looking threatened or scared in the least despite the Van der Linde gang kidnapping him easily.

“Oh. I am?” Dutch challenged. “Cause from where I’m sitting...” He sat up straighter so Bronte could get a good look at all the murderous men holding their guns firmly. “You’re the one deserving of pity, my friend. All your men, all your money, it weren’t no match for a bunch of bumpkins.”

“You are nothing.” Bronte hissed. “You do nothing, you mean nothing, you stand for nothing. Me? I run a city and when the law catch up to you, you will die of nothing. I am this country! you...you...you are what this country is running from!”

Dutch had a stoned look on his face as he spoke with such a calm tone it would’ve sent a normal man into begging for forgiveness. “I possess things you will never understand.”

“You don’t even possess your own men! A thousand dollars to the man who kills him and sets me free!” Bronte promises and looked at all the men who didn’t move a muscle at Bronte’s promise, years of loyalty to Dutch and faith in him over weighing Bronte’s broken promise.

“What are you going to say now?” Dutch says in a taunting tone as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Bronte seemed loss of threats and broken promises to get him out of this situation like any other, his men dead at his house and law no where for them to find him. “They are even bigger fools than you. No doubt, the law will find you, already the dogs are on their way.”

“Oh yeah?” Dutch taunts, sitting up as he advances on their prisoner. “Oh, you’re right. You are so right” Dutch grips his shoulder and pushes him close to the edge of the boat. “They are good at smelling filth, huh? So filth has got to be disposed of!” He dunks the lizard into the filthy swamp.

Arthur and the others stand in the boat as Dutch forces Bronte’s head to stay under the water, a determined look on Dutch’s face, Bronte yelling as he tries to fight their leader’s strength to get some air in his screaming lungs. Arthur stood there in surprise on Dutch’s actions, never seeing hims react in such a way as he yells at the drowning man. This wasn’t the way Arthur was taught from Hosea and even Dutch. 

Revenge is a fools game.

“Your friends the Pinkertons gonna come and rescue you? You repulsive little maggot! You call them now, you call them!”

Dutch force Bronte to keep under until his thrashing body eventually settled and stopped moving. Dutch lets him go and stands up, seeing a alligator there waiting for one of the men to jump in to get their snack. Dutch without a beat kicks Bronte’s body into the lake.

“Jesus.” John breaths, the first to speak as the Alligator eats up Angelo Bronte. “What part of your philosophy books cover feeding a feller to a goddamn alligator, Dutch?”

“The part that covers weakness.”

“...I don’t know.”

“Well I do! It ain’t nice, I know it!” Dutch says as he steps off the boat onto the peer where Thomas had stopped the boat. “But it’s either us, or him! I figured it might as well be him.”

Dutch walks away to join the other men who go to get on their horses. Arthur and John step off together slowly and look at area where Bronte disappeared. A sick feeling in the pit of Arthur’s stomach.

Revenge is a fools game.

-♡-

Emmaline noticed Arthur didn’t return last night when all the men eventually did when Dutch finally got his revenge on Angelo Bronte, she didn’t know what happened but with the way Lenny and John acted it didn’t seem good.

“John, what happened?” Emmaline said as Lenny went to his tent, John coming up the porch of Shady Belle. John puffs out a sigh and plops into the chair that someone set on the porch at some point. Emmaline took the other to listen to John in case he would talk.

John took a second to double check Dutch wasn’t there so he wouldn’t interrupt and told the nurse of their camp of what happened with Angelo Bronte. Emmaline listened intently and didn’t say anything for a while as she processed the actions of Dutch Van der Linde tonight.

It wasn’t like they haven’t done brutal things in the past, murdering gang members, robbing banks, shooting up half a town in Rhodes before killing that old hag Braithwaite inbred sons before casting her manor on fire cause she kidnapped Jack and sold him to Angelo Bronte. The rage of the Van Der Linde Gang was vicious, but the way Dutch acted wasn’t the normal Dutch. He always talked about revenge being a fools game.

“It wasn’t right.” John said, scratching his chin. “Bronte is a bad man, but nobody deserves to be fed to a damn alligator.”

“No, you’re right.” she agreed. It was silent between her and John for a second before she spoke again. “Where’s Arthur? He should have returned by now.”

John just shrugged. “Don’t know, he might be taking care of something or laying low.” He tells her before patting her on the shoulder in a brotherly manner for getting up and heading into the house to probably get some sleep with his family. Emmaline stayed out to try and wait for Arthur, smoking a cigarette as she waited, but after she was done with it, putting it out with her boot, she returned inside the house.

She made her way up the stairs and went into the tiny room her and Arthur were given. She stripped down to her undergarments, stuffing her clothing in the trunk where their clothes were together, blowing out the candles before she snuggled into the rough cot. Slipping into a dreamless sleep.

Emmaline woke up when she heard rustling and she turned around from facing the wall to see Arthur finishing getting dressed, finishing up buttoning his black and red vest. Must’ve came to bed at some point in the night? She watched silently as he turned to the table where he had a map sprawled. His hat laying on the table next to the map. There was a streaming light of the sun rays into the tiny room from the early morning - Arthur always a morning person and up before Emmaline - the golden glow casting over her lover that somehow made him more handsome. She took a second to appreciate the view before she spoke. “Mornin’”

Arthur looks over to the woman once she spoke to him in a sleepy tone. “Mornin’” He returns.”Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“‘s okay.” She said, sitting up, holding the blanket against her as she sat up in the bed. Arthur had returned to looking at his map, his pencil in hand. “John told me what happened with Bronte.”

“Did he?”

“Yes. Arthur... Are you okay?”

“’m fine.”

Emmaline pursed her lips at that response, not believing him at all that he was ‘fine’ after seeing Dutch murder a man. “John seemed bothered by it and you didn’t return until late.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Arthur, can we please talk about this?”

“What is there to talk about? Bronte is dead.” Arthur says, keeping his gaze on that damn map. “Nothing there to discuss.”

“Just- can we please?” Emmaline tries again.

Arthur sighed as he shifted his feet, turning to his lover but avoiding her gaze as he seemed to stare into the corner of the tiny room instead of the half-dressed woman. He didn’t say anything. “Arthur, it wasn’t right for him to take his life like that and for that reason.” She bites her lip as she chooses her words carefully here. “Are you sure Dutch is right about this Tahiti thing?”

“What?” He spoke, now his blue eyes landing on her instantly from her words.

Emmaline had only been with the gang for two years and had listened to Dutch spoke about everything from keeping faith, the promise land of Tahiti where they could be free from everything, one more big robbery and they’ll be on their way to getting a boat to Tahiti and starting their life over. After listening to the same thing over and over and feeling like they were getting no closer to getting to this freedom he was speaking of, she was starting to question Dutch’s motives. But nobody dare question this grand plan of Dutch Van der Linde, but Emmaline was getting tired of this false promises and as she thought about Dutch’s plans of becoming farmers in Tahiti...it had a lot of loopholes and unrealistic dreams.

But also knowing her lover, who has had 20 years loyalty to Dutch, it was hard to talk about the flaws of Dutch and she had to choose her words carefully when talking about this.

“Killing Bronte just so we can rob this bank and than 2 months later become farmers in Tahiti? For 15-20 people to start a new life? It just...it seems unrealistic for this world now.” She said. “You always told us how revenge wasn’t a way to do things and it seems to me Dutch is believing that idea more.” Emmaline says, keeping her gaze on Arthur’s and not daring to look away. “Killing Bronte just seemed...reckless and could make this job bank job go really bad.”

“It’s just one more job and we’ll be out of here, Dutch knows what he’s doin’“

“Are you sure? Getting in the middle of a family feud, for what? Some rumor of gold?”

“It would’ve helped!”

“And what did it do? We’re always running cause of some plan Dutch had that backfires in our face, Arthur!” Emmaline argues. “Now he’s killed a man in cold blood and cause so much more trouble! I’m tired of running!”

“Dutch had to do what he needed for all of us to get us the money!” Arthur says, fuming at the thought that these past 20 years were for nothing.

“And this is the way to do it? Get the money to go to Tahiti that he doesn’t even know about! You heard him, he heard some one talk about it once and that’s it!”

“I’m not going to talk about this.” Arthur huffs, grabbing his hat and placing it on his head harshly and moving to leave the room.

“Arthur!” Emmaline calls for him. “You can’t just walk away!” She gets up, wrapping the blanket around her to conceal how undressed she is. Arthur ignored her as he went down those stairs. She glared at his hat, he was impossible to talk to about any of this. She heard a door shut and turned to see Dutch looking at her and narrowed his eyes.

They stare at each other for a second before Emmaline goes back into her room, shutting the door behind her.

[lemonyellowlogic]

the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun: chapter eight

-o-

first

previous

-o-

chapter eight: the conversation

After dinner that night, the four Alimagians and Roman relaxed in the living room, Emile cuddled up to Remy’s side on the couch (where Roman slept) as the three teenagers sat around. 

Emile was asleep, his wings puffed out around himself and Remy as Remy ran their hands through their soft feathers. Virgil lay curled up in a little ball on his favorite love seat, dozing as Roman read a book on the floor, leaning back onto Virgil’s feet. Diego just stared at Roman, eyes narrowed but his teeth gnawing on his lip.

Roman sighed, looking up at the merperson who startled as he realized Roman knew he had been staring at him.

“Look,” Roman said quietly as to not disturb the others slumber, “I don’t know if I have personally done something wrong to offend you, but if I have, I am truly sorry. And I’m sorry about the river this afternoon, it was an accident, but,” Roman looked him in the eyes, “I literally have no clue what I could've done directly to you to cause this anger and hatred. Please, for the love of anything, can we at least try to put away this...rivalry until I leave, because I won’t be here forever.”

Diego looked at him in silence, an eyebrow quirking, “Why aren’t you planning on staying?”

Roman’s heart started beating faster at the sound of Diego’s voice and the fact that the merperson was actually speaking to him, and he quietly said, “Well, no matter how my family feels about it, I need to return home eventually.”

“Your family?”

Roman sighed, “I’m not comfortable going into detail about it with you, since you’ve obviously shown you hate me throughout this past week.”

The room grew quiet after Roman said that, enough time for Roman to open back up his book of Alimagian folk tales and begin reading it again when Diego spoke again, causing Roman to drop the book, “I don’t hate you.”

The clatter of the book had Emile groaning, digging his face deeper into Remy’s shoulder. Roman winced, “Apologies. But, what do you mean that you don’t hate me?”

“I mean that I don’t hate you,” The scaled boy stared at his feet, his arms crossed across his chest, “You haven’t done anything to me, but I still have...resentment towards humans. It’s nothing to do with you as a person, just your race.”

Roman’s eyebrows shot up, but fell again as he thought deeper. What happened to Diego to cause this sort of...resentment?

“Care to explain further?”

“I...hmm.” Diego hummed, thinking about it, but flinching as Virgil snored loudly.

“Fine.” Diego whispered, looking at his sleeping family, “I’ll tell you, but come with me. I don’t want them to wake up.”

Diego stood up and Roman followed, leaving his book on the floor next to Virgil and following Diego into his room. Diego sat on his bed, cross-legged while Roman awkwardly stood in the middle of the room, arms clasped behind his back. 

The room was extremely clean, with mustard walls. It was small, with his bed in the corner of the room and a desk next to it, but it was cozy, the lantern next to his bed coloring the room a soft gold.

Diego sighed, patting the bed next to him and scooting over so Roman could sit down, which he did.

Diego lay back his arms behind his head, and he sighed, “I've been thinking about this for a while. Well, the past week. I know you as a person have nothing to do with the royal family or their views,” Roman winced, “But just seeing a human...just...scares me.”

Roman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “I scare you?”

“Of course you do. You’re a built human who could break me in half and can run back to your village and accuse all of us of kidnapping and have us literally executed.”

“I’d never-”

“I know, I can tell. But I’m still nervous. I can see that Emile and Virgil like you, and you’re starting to grow on Remy, and that makes me mad. Emile and Remy have never been in a situation where their lives were in danger by a human, Emile having grown up in one of those avian villages in the mountains and Remy in a village full of mages and being able to pass as a human, but Virgil has. And that just...hurt me, to see my closest friend turn on me and defend someone who could kill us all? I lashed out, and I shouldn't've.”

Roman looked at the boy, who stared up at the ceiling, not looking at Roman but his face red.

“It’s...okay. If I was in your situation, I’d be upset too. But,” Roman bit at his lip, ”Why are you telling me all of this?”

Diego sighed, sitting up and looking at Roman, “Because Virgil told me I should try to talk to you and I trust him.”

Roman smiled, thinking of the sleeping boy in the other room, the thought of him making Roman’s cheeks start to involuntarily burn. He  shook his head, looking back to Diego with a grin, “You two fight often?”

Diego grinned back, golden eyes shining in the candlelight, “Very, Remy and Emile have to separate us almost every week, but we don’t care. We’re...close, but not too close that I can’t just punch him when I know he’s being an idiot, and for him to do the same.”

Roman nodded, the room falling into comfortable silence as Roman laid back next to the merperson. They breathed together, the room quiet, punctuated only by Virgil snores from the other room.

“Why do you hate the royal family so much?”

Diego flinched, rolling over to look at Roman, who looked back at him, purposeful malice not in his eyes. Diego sighed, sitting up, “Guess.”

Roman’s brow furrowed with slight annoyance but he held it in, “I don’t know, Diego.”

Diego smiled a little smile, empty of humor and anything normally found in a grin, “They’re murderers. They killed my father.”

Roman choked on his own spit, shooting up, “What?”

Diego sighed, his painful smile fading. He bit his lip, running his hand through his curly hair and breaking the curls, turning the section he touched into a frizzy mess, but he didn't seem to care,”I never met him, it was before I was born.”

He looked back at Roman, who nodded for him to continue, eyes wide.

Diego sighed again, staring at his legs and fidgeting with his hands, “My mother was a human, my father a merperson. They fell in love and whatever, and my mother got pregnant with me. She told her best friend, who didn’t keep her damn mouth shut,” He hissed out, but then took a breath and continued quieter, “News of a merperson ‘invading’ a human village spread to our guards, who spread it to the capitol and then to King Augustus.” 

Roman flinched at his father’s name, asking quietly, “What did he do?” 

Diego tensed, “He had our towns guards take him and execute him in our village square to make an example of him, to show Alimagians to never try to cross over again.”

The room was quiet and Roman sighed, his heart heavy with guilt even though he was only an infant when it happened, “Goodness, D-”

“My mother then had me, and she celebrated that I looked human,” Diego cut Roman off, his words coming out harsher and quicker, “She tried scaring me to never try shifting, even though I could, because she was too scared of me dying, but she just made me hate myself.

“Then, when I was ten, she died. It was a sickness of sorts she couldn’t get over, and I went to an orphanage, because everyone thought I was an evil child. They’d heard rumors of my father, and decided I had to be evil because of him.

“It was lonely, but I met another merperson whose family was traveling through the river next to us. I had to swim miles to see him each day, but it was worth it. But then, his pod had to keep going, and I’ve never seen him again.”

Roman hummed, and Diego continued talking, laying back down, “I didn’t used to have these scales on my face, but they're just a thing for merpeople. You can have them anywhere, and I have some also going down my sides and arms. When they came in, they were easier to hide, but the ones on my face weren’t.

“I was around thirteen, and everytime one popped up on my face, I’d pull it out, terrified that the other children would see them. But then, one day a kid walked into the bathroom as I did it and he saw my scales.”

Diego took a breath, tears popping into his eyes, “He screamed in horror, and ran. I panicked, grabbing all of my things, shoving them into a bag, and running away.”

The room was silent, Diego’s wobbly voice whispering, “I didn’t want to be murdered, and so I swam up the river, past the border and into Alimagan. I lived by myself for a few months, surviving on fish and stealing from villages, until Emile and Remy found me. They thought I was a drowned kid in a river before I woke up, and they took me in, letting me travel with them.

“Eventually, we found Virgil, and they decided we should settle down, and so we four built this cottage together, and we’ve been living here for three years now.”

Diego wiped his eyes, and looked at Roman, his eyes red and his cheeks burning with vulnerability, “That’s why I hate humans. I was raised as one, but I shouldn’t’ve. If the king had never murdered my father, I would've been able to learn how to be a merperson, but I lost that chance. They tore it away from me, and the only things I know are what I taught myself and what Patton helped me learn.”

Roman stared at Diego, his eyes burning as well. Diego let out a gasp of surprise as Roman threw himself at him, wrapping his arms around the merperson and holding him tightly. Diego froze for a moment, before wrapping his arms around the human, burying his face in his shoulder as little sobs escaped his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Diego. I’m so sorry for what he did. But I promise you, I promise that I will never hurt you. Even after I leave, I will never tell anyone what happened, and I will never tell anyone your story, I promise.”

Diego nodded into Roman’s shoulder, and they sat there holding each other until Diego passed out. Roman didn’t know what to do afterwards, with his arms full of emotionally and literally tired merperson, and so he shrugged, laying down with Diego in his arms and falling asleep. Remy and Emile were already in his bed anyways.

-o-

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