#he’d probably kill rodrigo

[teecupangel]

What if desmond was reborn as the 5th auditore child? Like he was just a baby/toddler when the auditore were executed

Hey, nonny.

We can make Desmond be born on March 13, 1476 so he would only be months old when the Auditores are executed.

Wanna fuck with Desmond and the Auditores some more?

What if we keep Maria’s mental state after the execution and make her believe that the baby in her arms is Petruccio.

The only person who could remind her that she was holding and caring for her fifth child was Claudia and it was becoming harder and harder for her to keep trying to stay strong when her mother treating Desmond as Petruccio makes her think that she’s in the past and asking when her husband would be back or if Federico and Ezio be back from playing outside.

The final nail in the coffin is that Maria mistook Claudia as someone else, maybe an older sister that was already dead or even her old nanny who died when Petruccio was just born.

Ezio saw what was happening and pushed Claudia to managing Monteriggioni to keep her from spiraling.

It becomes apparent that Maria sees Giovanni in Ezio and Mario tells him that it might be better if they slowly separate Maria from Desmond.

It’s not doing either of them any good and making Desmond replace Petruccio was a fate that no child should ever shoulder.

So Ezio pretends to be Giovanni taking Petruccio for walks and tries to be there for his younger brother.

But being an Assassin made it hard for him to return home frequently.

He tries his best and he knows Claudia also tries to make their younger brother understand that they don’t see him as a replacement and that their mother is simply… confused at the moment.

That’s how Desmond grew up, pretending to be Petruccio when he’s with Maria Auditore.

Mario trained him while Ezio was running around but he couldn’t leave Monteriggioni because Maria starts to ask where Petruccio is whenever she doesn’t see Desmond for a few hours.

Ezio went to Firenze after journeying to Spain (and got entangled with Bonfire of the Vanities) when Maria finally realized that Desmond isn’t Petruccio. To be more exact, Desmond had turned 21 and Maria cried as she remembered that Petruccio would have never grown as old as Desmond.

At that point, Maria’s relationship with her youngest child was strained by her own guilt and grief while Desmond just accepted it because he loved Maria and a part of him believed that he should have done something more (even if he was still a baby, guilt does not care about one’s age)

Desmond starts doing Assassin work as well but goes rogue for a few months, returning with the remaining seals for Altaïr’s statue.

Desmond takes the armor for himself and just shrugged it off as Ezio’s birthday present or something equally unimportant and Ezio returned to Monteriggioni with… well…

A very awkward family reunion, that’s for sure.

So many things have happened at that point and, as much as he is happy to see his mother healing, he feels guilty for not being there for Desmond who just shrugs it off and tells him “I understand.”

“I understand.”

That was the worst phrase Ezio heard.

He kept hearing it from his younger brother.

At first he was relieved that his brother understood.

Then he realized that the phrase meant more than that to Desmond.

It was a resignation to his current situation.

And Ezio wasn’t really in the best place himself.

He was still grieving the death of Cristina who died while Ezio was in Firenze for Savonarola and his men so there was also a bit of guilt there.

So Mario suggested Ezio takes Desmond to the Vatican with him as a ‘trainee’ and Ezio agreed.

He tells Desmond that he never wanted him to be an Assassin, that he hoped he was the only one who had to carry the blood that drenched the Auditores’ blade.

Desmond just stares at him and goes…

“I understand.”

And Ezio knew that he failed being a brother to his youngest in this bloody path of vengeance he had taken.

[steddieas-shegoes]

bad idea right

for @steddiesongfics July prompt using song lyrics from ‘bad idea right’ by olivia rodrigo

rated e | 1569 words | cw: alcohol, super mildly dubious consent because of the alcohol | tags: angst with a happy ending, post break up, exes to lovers, getting back together, sex

📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱

Eddie isn’t afraid to admit that he makes mistakes. Sometimes, he makes big ones.

Answering the call from Steve is the first big one.

“Steve?” It’s been almost a year since he’s heard from him, their breakup being the finite end to any and all communication. “You okay?”

“Eddie! Oh my god. So I’m out right now, and I’m all fucked up, and I was thinkin’ ‘bout that time I got so drunk you had to carry me to my bed.” Eddie’s listening to Steve, but he feels like his soul is leaving his body. “You remember how gentle you were? You were so worried about tripping up the stairs and you kept cussing when you lost your grip. You kissed my head when you thought I was asleep.”

Steve’s words are slurred, but Eddie can make them out fine. He was good at understanding Steve all the time, even inebriated.

“I knew you were awake,” he gulps. Robin’s gonna kill him for even entertaining Steve like this. Actually, speaking of her- “Is Robbie with you?”

“No.” Eddie can hear the pout on his lips. “She’s on a date with her girlfriend.”

Right. She’d mentioned that to Eddie yesterday when they were texting about plans for next weekend.

Robin had refused to be split between her two best friends when they broke up, and rightfully so. She may have been Steve’s platonic soulmate, but she knew that what happened between them wasn’t Eddie’s fault. She made sure to spend time with Eddie when Steve was otherwise busy.

“Are you good to get home? I can send an Uber for you.” Eddie offers even though he’s sure Steve thought of that already. Even drunk, he would know how to get home.

“I can get my own Uber.”

“I know.”

“I missed your voice.”

Eddie is doing his fuckin’ best not to make his second big mistake tonight, but it’s not going well. He knows what’s gonna happen. He knows because he’s weak and loves Steve more than anything even after having his heart torn to pieces by him. Even knowing it’ll only lead to more heartbreak.

“You should get home, Stevie.”

“Missed that, too.”

It’s quieter on Steve’s end now, like he’s stepped away from whatever club or bar he’s holed up in, maybe outside to get some much needed fresh air. Eddie hopes it sobers him enough to realize what he’s done so he hangs up.

“Steve…”

“Can I come over?”

Eddie makes the second big mistake of the night and says yes.

-

When Steve arrives, he’s a beautiful mess.

He’s drunk, but the ride must’ve helped a little. His eyes are clear, his cheeks not as flush as they probably were before.

Eddie’s waiting at the door when he gets there, standing with a smile that doesn’t belong. He’s trying to be welcoming to a man who did everything to make sure he felt like he didn’t belong.

Steve is in his arms as soon as he makes it to the front door. Eddie’s third big mistake of the night is wrapping his arms around him as if he’d never stopped, as if this last year wasn’t the worst of his life and he’s barely made it through.

“Sorry I called. I didn’t know where to go.”

And now Eddie’s confused. He’s confused because Steve has an apartment of his own, one that he definitely knew how to get to even when drunk. Even if he didn’t, he would’ve been able to call Robin to help. Or Max. Or Lucas.

And he’s sure that Steve’s been drunk in the last year and not called him.

“Why couldn’t you go home?”

“Too quiet.”

11 months ago, almost to the day, Steve Harrington told Eddie Munson that he was too loud, too hyper, too messy.

11 months ago, Eddie Munson gathered whatever he could find in four minutes and left Steve’s apartment for the last time.

11 months ago, Steve ruined a three year relationship because he’d been feeling overwhelmed and didn’t tell Eddie until it was too late.

Now, Eddie Munson is sure that Steve Harrington is about to be his fourth big mistake tonight.

“You wanna come in?” He asks, already knowing Steve’s answer.

“Please.”

-

Steve is tucked into Eddie’s bed, curled around a pillow, mouth open as he snores quietly. Eddie watches him for a moment before tip-toeing from the room.

Robin’s livid when she answers her phone.

“This better be good. I was two fingers-“

“Steve’s here.” Eddie interrupts what was sure to be too much information about what Robin was getting up to on her date. “Drunk.”

“He just showed up at your house?” Robin sounds less mad now, more concerned, though he’s not sure who she’s more concerned about.

“He called first.”

“And you answered.”

“Yeah. Well.” Eddie sighs. “I’m gonna sleep on the couch, but just wanted you to know he’s safe and I’ll make sure he gets home tomorrow.”

“Eddie, I’m so sorry. He said he was just gonna watch a movie tonight or else I would’ve suggested he go hang with Dustin or something.”

“It’s not your job to babysit him.” Eddie doesn’t like the way she said that, but he’s probably reading too much into it. “He’s an adult.”

“Yeah, no. He’s. I mean, he’s fine. It’s just that we all try to keep his mind busy since…ya know.” Robin explains, though Eddie feels even more confused.

“Since he specifically told me I was too much for him?”

Robin’s silence speaks volumes.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is behind him and he’s quick to turn and make sure he’s okay. “Sleep?”

“I’ll text you,” he whispers to Robin before hanging up and turning to Steve. “You should go lay down. I’ll bring you some water.”

“You too?” Steve was blinking slowly, barely awake as he stood in Eddie’s living room.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Stevie.”

“Is it because of what I said?”

It’s not the time for them to have this conversation, and it’s not the time for Eddie to wish he could forget it ever happened so he can hop into bed with Steve. But he thinks Steve is probably sobering up little by little, and if he expects Steve to sleep, he may have to do this.

“You made it very clear how you felt. I’m just trying to respect your space until I can get you home tomorrow.” Robin would be proud of how he’s handling this, he thinks. He’s at least keeping things civil even though his head is screaming at him.

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

Eddie stares at him, tries to find the telltale signs of Steve lying. He doesn’t see any.

Steve’s too tired and too buzzed to hide it.

“Then why did you say any of it?” Eddie feels his chest constricting, his heartbeat racing the longer he looks at him. “Why did you make me think I was too much?”

“My dad came by that day,” Steve’s head falls, his hands wringing in front of him. “My dad had spent two hours telling me I wasn’t enough and that I’d done nothing but disappoint him and I’d never be what he wanted. And it wasn’t the first time, but it was after my boss gave a promotion to someone else even though I was more qualified and my head was killing me and Robin and I had gotten into a stupid argument that morning and it was a bad day.”

Eddie’s staring at him, mouth wide open, watching as the man he loves falls apart.

“It’s no excuse. I shouldn’t’ve said any of it no matter what. Not when it’s not even true. I’ve never felt like you’re too much or too loud.” Steve’s stepping closer now. “I’ve always just wanted to soak up whatever energy you have. And I didn’t know how to tell you that you’re more than I deserve without saying you’re too much for what I can offer.”

Damn Steve Harrington and his charm, even when buzzed, even when exhaustion is causing him to curl into himself.

Damn Eddie’s inability to avoid his fifth mistake of the night.

He doesn’t know if he is the catalyst or if they both are, but suddenly his mouth is on Steve’s and teeth knock together, and there’s a slight taste of blood on Eddie’s tongue.

There’s moans and hands against skin and in hair and hard cocks rubbing against thighs and bruises on hips.

There’s Steve’s head hitting the pillow and Eddie’s mouth sucking marks into his stomach and inner thigh and the blanket falling off the bed as they try to strip out of their clothes too fast.

There’s laughter and soft touches and nails biting into skin and check-ins.

There’s love when Eddie holds his face in his hands as he slides into Steve for the first time in too long, and there’s hope when Steve cries out for more, and there’s passion that Eddie knows he’d never find with anyone else.

After, when there’s sweat and tears and cum and an unfortunate wet spot in the middle of the bed, there’s whispers of tomorrow and the next day and apologies and promises.

It may have been a bad idea answering Steve’s call, but Eddie’s happy to make more mistakes if it means keeping Steve in his arms and being enough for each other.

[ophiespeaks]

MY DRS!!!

Masterlist <3

(For inspiration, ideas, or just to get to know me!!! This is in no particular order btw, just the way they’re ordered in my Lifa App.)

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*Side note, I have a “waiting room” dr too. It’s basically just a big movie theater but all the theater rooms are my different drs. But I’ve elected to not make a full section for it.*

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•1•

Dr Name: Hogwarts, 1991.

Universe/Basis: Harry Potter

Synopsis: Non-Canonical HP dr where I get to experience the magical world completely and fully with my favorite characters. There’s no war, no plot, and things have been changed to make it more desirable for me. IE: No Death Eaters/Voldemort, no one dies, etc. It’s basically just a boarding school dr with magic lol. It was my main dr for a long time and has a LOT of little things scripted in. Honestly, I’m still so in love with it and if I ever did permashift, it would probably be here.

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•2•

Dr Name: Chosen One

Universe/Basis: Harry Potter

Synopsis: Canon-Adjacent dr where basically I’m Harry. Obviously he doesn’t exist in this dr because I’m obsessed with being the main character (/hj). Things have been scripted to not be so traumatizing and awful all the time, but will loosely follow a sort of plot to let me be the chosen one in a prophecy and basically the center of attention. There’s stakes and I don’t expect to shift here for long intervals because it seems stressful, but I’m shifting to third year with a pre-written backstory for the first two years. Again, not fully canon- certain characters don’t die and the war isn’t killing innocents etc. I just like attention.

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•3•

Dr Name: Lost

Universe/Basis: ABC’s Lost TV Series (2004)

Synopsis: Canon-Adjacent to the Lost TV series, without the um…trauma. Also people don’t die. It’s basically Survivor meets Real Housewives. I live for the drama tbh. Basically the plane crash leaves me stranded with strangers and I get to meet the characters. I don’t have a s/o but I’m looking to be an adoptive daughter figure to Sawyer because emotionally unavailable selfish assholes seem to be my father-figure go to for some reason.

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•4•

Dr Name: The 100

Universe/Basis: CW’s The 100

Synopsis: Heavily scripted but honestly it’s almost-canon to the events of seasons 1 and 2 of the 100, obviously not so traumatizing though. I’m basically using this as a teenage-run society dr or maybe like a huge camping trip dr lmao. None of the 100 die like in canon, and also because I have main character syndrome Clarke and therefore also Wells aren’t part of the original delinquent mission. My s/o is gonna be Bellamy Blake, and I have a few close friends in the 100/eventually the grounders. There’s a lot of drama lmao. Also, my dad is Markus Kane and my (adoptive) brother is Murphy and my whole backstory is so convoluted it needed rewritten multiple times to even be coherent lmao.

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•5•

Dr Name: Fame (Adult)

Universe/Basis: Better CR

Synopsis: Modern-set dr where I’m a famous actress/musician in my early twenties. I own a makeup/skincare company, as well as a non-profit community oriented foundation to teach kids the arts (acting, music, performance, dance, drawing, painting, etc.) but also hosting events and drives to give back to local communities. As for my professional career, I’m a part of some of my favorite movies/shows in my cr, as well as some movie ideas I had myself and made into a franchise in my DR. I’m basically the biggest IT girl and I’m like if Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, and Margot Robbie were a single person. Some of my films/shows, to name a few, are The VVitch, A Star Is Born, The Summer I Turned Pretty, and Barbie.

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•6•

Dr Name: Fame (Teen)

Universe/Basis: Better CR

Synopsis: An early 2010s dr, I’m a young teen actress and get to star in some of my favorite shows and movies from that time period, as well as some adaptations I thought up myself. My dad is Matthew Grey Gubler because he seems like he’d be such a cool dad, so I’m technically a Nepo baby. I play Dustin’s twin sister in Stranger Things, I play Annabeth Chase in an adaptation of PJO, I play Prim in The Hunger Games, I’m Coraline in a live action adapatation, and a few other roles that I have planned.

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•7•

Dr Name: Assemble

Universe/Basis: MCU - Young Avengers

Synopsis: I’m Tony Stark’s daughter, all the OGs don’t die, and I’m in charge of the Young Avengers. I’ve adapted some comic book characters into new heroes, as well as adding known characters like Spider-man, America Chavez, Yelena (younger in my dr), Kate Bishop, etc. It’s basically like fanfic Avengers lmao. We all live in the compound in upstate New York, and sometimes other “characters” pop in to give us training lessons and stuff such as Stephen Strange or Wong, T’Challa, Bucky, Loki, etc. It seems so fun to just have a compound full of super powered/super-capable teenagers tbh. A nightmare for my dad tho.

——���

•8•

Dr Name: The Olympian

Universe/Basis: MCU

Synopsis: A more canon-reliant take on an MCU dr, where I join the original Avengers back in 2011. I’m basically a greek demigoddess capable of minor feats of magic, but through being a hero I’m eventually granted full godhood (like Hercules/Heracles in the myths) for my efforts. Fighting villains and hearing the hero drama seems so interesting. Honestly, I’ll probably be less involved in this dr than my Assemble dr, but this one’s still cool if only for my backstory here alone lol.

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•9•

Dr Name: The Games

Universe/Basis: The Hunger Games

Synopsis: Basically not canon at all lmao. I don’t want to kill anyone, that’s insane. Basically, the districts still exist (though people aren’t starving or anything) and “The Games” are basically just a big game show held in the Capitol and the winner gets money, fame, etc. This dr is loosely based off of the prequel, the ballad of songbirds and snakes, so there’s *technically* Coriolanus Snow as my love interest/mentor, but his character is so different that it’s basically not even him- I just find Tom Blythe attractive is all. Also Sejanus Plinth is my bbygirl he deserved so much better.

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•10•

Dr Name: Camp Halfblood

Universe/Basis: PJO

Synopsis: Non-Canon pjo dr. I’m a child of Zeus (I need to be the main character so bad ig. Also, I need to have an absent/terrible biological father apparently?? minus tony tho 🫶) and I’m the only one in the Zeus Cabin. There’s no quests and we’re genuinely just trained over the summer and allowed to either stay or go to school for the rest of the year. It’s basically a summer camp dr but with a little magic and stuff here and there. Percy, Grover, Annabeth, etc. are all my age and eventually Percy will be my s/o because clueless boys of unimaginable power are just so babygirl to me i guess.

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•11•

Dr Name: Bridgerton

Universe/Basis: Netflix’s Bridgerton TV series

Synopsis: Mostly canon, with a few more added families and such. My own background is also a royalty dr- I’m the princess of Norway undercover as the distant relative of Lady Danbury, and I’ve got a few completely made-up love interests because no one in the show is really in my age range??? I mean some are close, like Colin, but he’s in love with Penelope so idk. I just want fancy dresses and huge parties and high society drama tbh.

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•12•

Dr Name: The Walking Dead

Universe/Basis: AMC’s The Walking Dead TV series

Synopsis: HEAVILY SCRIPTED!!! I don’t want my people to die obviously. Zombies/walkers can’t actually hurt us and everyone smells good oof. No cannibals bc ew, it’s basically a found family dr with zombies. I/we won’t have to kill people!!! Both Daryl and Rick are sort of father figures to me, and my love interests include a few people such as Carl, Enid, Ron, and Kelly (I love Kelly sm) and the later seasons are changed to be better to live in and everything’s not constantly falling apart. Also, basically scripting out all of the Negan drama and most stuff after it, because absolutely not.

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•13•

Dr Name: BrBa

Universe/Basis: AMC’s Breaking Bad TV series

Synopsis: LISTEN!!! I just think it would be fun to fuck around in this dr tbh. I’m a high-end dealer (drugs don’t kill people and don’t have a bad effect on people either) and I just want to go to lavish parties and commit high end crimes. I think Walter White is funny as hell unintentionally and Jesse Pinkman seems like the coolest person to just hang out with (at least in the first few seasons of the show.) Obviously, it’s not even remotely canon and doesn’t follow the actual plot. I also won’t spent too much time here. Like I said, it’s just to mess around in. It’s absolutely not serious nor is it a place i’d want to be for long.

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•14•

Dr Name: Narnia

Universe/Basis: The Chronicles of Narnia (films)

Synopsis: Golden Age Narnia? Ruling a magical country, marrying my best friend (Peter), leading people, being highly respected by my court? The whole thing sounds like a fairytale. It’s basically a royalty dr but with magic. Medieval times but, as with all my non-modern drs, I script modern amenities because if I don’t have toilet paper and indoor plumbing I’m gonna scream and cry. I also love the canon Pevensie siblings and their personalities I want to meet them all so bad. Also, Peter Pevensie was my first crush ever, as an fyi.

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•15•

Dr Name: LIS

Universe/Basis: Netflix’ Lost In Space reboot

Synopsis: Canon/mostly canon with fun additions and workarounds. Adoptive/found family dynamics. I get to be a super cool badass with yet another adoptive father figure while exploring alien planets and getting to be besties with penny robinson (i’m forever a penny defender- i love forgotten, “unwanted” middle child archetypes) and getting to meet a literal 7 foot tall alien robot is gonna be SO cool are you kidding me???

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•16•

Dr Name: Stardew Valley

Universe/Basis: Stardew Valley (video game)

Synopsis: CUTE FARMING DR!!! There’s twelve canonical love interests but i’m considering adding a few more options/people in general for funsies. Basically I want to have my little farm and my little animals and run around town and meet people and go to the beach and it’s gonna be so fun i’m so excited for it. I’ve actually considered it for my “waiting room” sort of place, because only the valley itself and like three other places even really exist in canon soooo but idk. (also considering scripting johnnie guilbert as sebastian bc 🤭🤭🤭)

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•17•

Dr Name: Gravity Falls

Universe/Basis: Gravity Falls

Synopsis: Teenage dr, not canon reliant but with weird occurrences and mysteries going on all around. The twins and their friends are older but most of the other characters stay the same age. Instead of having a complicated backstory I straight up just tell Stan I shifted and he’s unbothered because he literally watched his brother get sucked into a portal and fist-fought a pterodactyl so not much can phase him anymore ig.

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•18•

Dr Name: Summer Ship

Universe/Basis: Better Cr

Synopsis: Um this one’s completely made up by me, hi. Basically me and some of my dr friends are working on a private yacht for the summer. We only work like four hours a day, get paid WAY too much tbh, and then spend the weekends/after work hours getting to live on this huge ass rich people yacht that we’re allowed to go crazy on. It’s sailing the mediterranean so it doubles as a travel dr, where I get to see places like Greece, Rome, Venice, etc. when we dock and go inland. I’m so unbelievably stoked about this one tbh.

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•19•

Dr Name: Smosh

Universe/Basis: Better Cr

Synopsis: This one’s kinda embarrassing ngl 💀 so basically, the Youtube channel Smosh is this whole big brand that’s like an office completely oriented on making fun videos, sketch comedy, playing board games, etc. and it looks SO fun to work there. Some of the people in videos/crew behind the scenes seem like genuinely nice people so basically it’s a better cr dr where I just work there too, and I’m a little older lol. Like obviously it’s a job like anywhere else, but a lot of the time their job is fart jokes and playing games.

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•20•

Dr Name: Sword AF

Universe/Basis: Smosh - DnD Campaign

Synopsis: If I thought the last one was embarrassing, this takes the cake lmao. So, Smosh runs a dnd campaign where four of them play characters and then the dm plays a bunch of npcs. I’ve scripted myself as a fantasy character to explore the dr world based off of the dnd campaign’s world. Interacting with real people who are the characters my friends play in a different dr lmao. But an ancient giant wooden robot, a blue goblin, a gay elf, and a horny older halfling lady are MY comfort characters, okay! It’s a dnd dr, based off of the Sword AF campaign.

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•21•

Dr Name: A:TLA

Universe/Basis: Nickelodeon’s Avatar Cartoon

Synopsis: guys i LOVE avatar omg. uncle iroh singing little soldier boy can make me cry on command to this day. In this dr, I’m a fire bender runaway living in Omashu. I also scripted different fire nation “countries,” like how the earth kingdom has sort of different governments set-up throughout or how the water tribes have the two separate tribes on either pole. I’m from an island tribe and because I like attention, I’m a princess in that kingdom. This dr is mostly canon??? It was a cartoon so not too much traumatizing stuff happened anyways, but there are certainly some…questionable moments.

———

Honorable Mentions

(drs that i *technically* have, but have put little to no thought into the actual context of and i currently have no desire to actively shift to, just future possibilities)

-“Dog Days,” a Diary of a Wimpy Kid dr (i am down BAD for rodrick heffley)

-BAU/criminal minds dr (i have no idea how i’d POSSIBLY script this to not be traumatic so for now it’s not even really a dr, just a place i may want to go???)

-“Safety” dr (without too much detail, I’m a kid again and live in a valley home with my favorite people, with neighbor kids and the whole place is filled with flowers and it’s always summer. basically just a stress-free dreamland.)

-Sam and Colby dr. (ghost hunting but i’m a medium + getting up to some utter tomfoolery in a youtuber house)

-Daybreak dr based off of the netflix show (societies run by teenagers AND zombie survival found family drs seem to be a favorite of mine, and this is both)

-“Hawkins” dr, basically stranger things without any strange things (no way am i facing a demogorgan head on, let ALONE vecna or the mind flayer are you KIDDING???)

-The Walking Dead (game), (I love Clementine so much) (I honestly might just script twdg characters into my main twd dr so I don’t have to have multiple, idk yet)

-“Royal University,” yet another royalty dr bc i’m self obsessed ig, (made up royalty heirs in a college dr)

-Hogwarts, 1971 (undecided/not scripted marauders era dr. obsessed with andrew garfield as remus lupin.)

-Hogwarts, 2011 (undecided dr of the golden-trio era’s kids from the series epilogue/*minor* elements of cursed child, teddy lupin gets to live with his parents bc i WILL start crying)

-Youtuber Dr, (Making horror content/horror-themed video essays, will be in the same sort of circle as Wendigoon, the Lore Lodge, Loey Lane, Nexpo, etc.)

-Various short-term drs to figure out what happened at certain instances in my cr. I kind of think of them as “fly on the wall” drs just for me to be in a location to fully understand what happened there. Mainly, cold cases/unexplained events. (Jonbenet Ramsey, mothman bridge incident, phoenix lights, dyatlov pass, and several missing 411 cases mostly.)

-Cool History dr, where I can go see cool historical moments for myself from my cr. such as the building of the pyramids, the library of alexandria, the “resurrection of jesus” (since he was a real person), woodstock, stonewall, etc.

———

I am always accepting more dr ideas, tbh. Any piece of media I consume is free real estate for a dr if we’re being so fr.

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicmas23 Day 5: Smoke & Mirrors

Good evening!

Tonight is a snippet from an upcoming one-shot, Smoke & Mirrors. It's a canon AU where Alice ended up going South as soon as she wakes up, and ends up being a competing Southern Warlord. It's meant to be a fun little one shot, set around Breaking Dawn, but needs major edits and rewrites, so I thought a snippet from the OG draft might be fun.

I'm half asleep, so I'll bid you all adieu and I hope you enjoy this!

smoke & mirrors.

Here’s the thing about the Southern Wars.

You ended up knowing everyone who lives long enough. Jasper knows Matteo, Carmela, and Rodrigo far better than he’d like to know people he tried to kill for half a century. He knows Lyric from Baja is a chameleon who wefts and weaves herself into whatever army holds the strongest territory; he knows Tomas as someone who really needs to be put down for good but he’s just so likeable everyone ignores his less appealing ‘hobbies’. And Katya who has fought for seventy years yet never actually killed anyone (Matteo is a soft-touch when it comes to Katya, that’s an open secret.)

At any one time, he knows someone who can kill, kidnap, rob, acquire, destroy, or duplicate anything in the known world. He tries to keep most of that close to the vest, preferring for the Cullens not to know that if shit comes to shove, he can have Bella abducted and in a safe house in less than 12 hours without a single trace, let alone anyone linking it to the Cullens. 

Hell, if Carlisle ever wanted a Pope’s skull to adorn his study, he knows a guy. It would cost a pretty penny and probably take the best part of a month, but he could make it happen. The same way he’s gotten more than just Cullen paperwork from Jenks; or that at least sixty percent of the cash he’s allocated annually goes towards helping those same old ‘friends’. 

It should also be noted that ‘friends’ is used ironically - other than Peter or Charlotte, any one of those people would kill him without a second thought if he was no longer useful. He feels the same about them. At a certain point, all the shit they went through and survived created some strange kind of respect and understanding. Veterans on opposing sides of a war. 

(It also needs to be noted that for all of the shit that has rained down on the family since Bella Swan tripped and stumbled into their lives, that he probably could have called in a favour for an extra set of hands. But Peter and Charlotte were unavailable, and calling in that kind of favour set a precedent he hadn’t wanted to deal with at the time, so he’d kept quiet and gotten the job done himself.)

Which is just a fancy way to say that when Irina bursts in and admits she told the fuckin’ Volturi about Renesmee, the Immortal Child, he’s already flipping through his mental Rolodex of assets to get them out of this mess. It’s a more practical option than, say, snapping Irina into bite-sized pieces to give her time to think about her actions. 

This is a problem. A big one. The more he thinks about it, the worse it gets. 

It’s the first public trial that the Volturi has held since the Wars (he was only a few years out of being a newborn, and he barely remembers in it through the haze of bloodlust and irritation, trying to keep the freshest newborns contained and civil as the Kings ruled Helena a dangerous criminal and scorched the entire coven from existence. He remembers Maria being quiet for a few days afterwards, but the specifics of the entire event were lost to him.) 

And that trial was only Caius, Aro, Dimitri, and the Twins. The Cullens’ charges (exposing themselves with the van incident, telling Bella, Edward’s attempt at exposing himself in Volterra, the whole Victoria debacle, waiting more than a year to change Bella, Charlie Swan, and now a hybrid child) were… difficult to challenge. 

The entire court was coming. 

(Sometimes he wonders if his role in this family has become that of the fixer. The one that is constantly bailing out the sinking ship, patching holes, and making sure all arms and legs are inside the proverbial vehicle - St Cloud, Dell Rapids, Senoia… Thirty years of that and, well, he’s getting tired.)

He gets up and disappears when Irina arrives, make-up smeared and emotions pinging off the walls like super balls, even though he knows what’s coming. He can practically sense it now. 

(The thing about the Southern Wars is that, even after you turn your back on it, you never seem to stop fighting some kind of battle.)

//

It’s less than six hours before everyone has to be informed of Irina’s faux pas, and it goes about as well as Jasper expected. 

He sits on the stairs as Edward and Rose and Carlisle argue, Jacob making unhelpful comments as he eats some vile human snack, and Irina looks vaguely ill and he wonders what the fuck Irina was thinking. If she wanted answers, justice, she should have come straight to the Cullens. This wasn’t so much as overkill, as nuking the planet from space after an oil spill. 

(He also wants to know how exactly she left Volterra to warn them. Did Aro dismiss her? Send her? Did she just slip out and hope no one noticed?)

The rot is truly set in with the Volturi; he’s heard Maria’s rants about them, about how power curdles and corrupts. How it becomes less about protection and more about control. And when you have vaults and vaults of money and jewels and artwork and books, you look for something much, much rarer and unique to collect. Something that cannot be bought or stolen. They are no one’s benevolent overlords, no loving fathers of their people - they are a bullet fired wildly into a crowd, striking down the slow, the ignorant, and the vulnerable. 

Very, very rarely do the actually guilty fall. That’s why this is such a bitter pill to swallow, such a disaster - Aro is coming for a trial, with the biggest audience he can find, to cull the Cullens and pick over the carcass. Justice and honesty and truth have no place here. 

(Helena was no criminal. Just trying to salvage a terrible situation her very best. Whomever fed her to the wolves was more of a criminal than Helena ever came close to being. She was nobody’s enemy.)

This is bad, very bad.   

Emmett comes over to him, his normally jovial expression replaced with something that was both tired and solemn.

“This is a mess,” Emmett says, and that’s his brother. Always the diplomat. 

This isn’t a mess. He can clean up messes. 

He offers a nod, and they both look over as Rosalie sends something flying - an ugly ceramic egg the size of a soccer ball that is nobody’s favourite, so the only one who flinches is Jacob. 

“We don’t have many options,” he finally says, and he feels the flutter of Emmett’s hope and relief against him; this is what his brother wants. Jasper’s bailed them out of the last… three of Edward’s debacles, of course the family veteran has an escape hatch already planned and built, a way that they get to keep their heads. 

(He wants to warn Emmett, the eternal optimist that he’s really only flipping names over in his head, working out who will give them the best advantage. Who owes him and who he already owes and who is nearby and who he can get in touch with the fastest. Do they need witnesses or an army or some combination of both?  There are a million balls in the air, even though the answer is right there because he wants to double check and make sure that he hasn’t missed anything - a better choice.)

He heaves a breath and he doesn’t want to do this. 

Of all the old friends he could call on, she’s the name that is right below Maria’s on the list of people he doesn’t want to owe a favour to. Calling her or Maria in right now is the equivalent of hitting the big red self-destruct button. 

But he continues to roll that choice around in his mind and it’s the right choice. She’s the right choice. 

And even if he thinks that a couple of decades in the catacombs of Volterra would teach Edward and Bella to be a hell of a lot less selfish and self-absorbed (and let the kid be raised by someone with a little more life experience, like Rose or Esme), the rest of the family doesn’t deserve to go down with them. Stupidity isn’t a crime. Carlisle’s love for his son isn’t a crime. 

“Let me make a call.”

—

Peter is glad to hear from him right up until Jasper explains why he’s calling - Edward, the child, Irina, the Volturi. 

“Is now a good time to mention that Yuri’s set-up camp permanently?” Peter asks, the strain in his voice obvious. 

No. No it’s absolutely not, but it puts more pieces into place, that maybe the Volturi are looking for more than to simply put the Cullens into their place. Yuri’s little clan of followers that ebbs and flows have transitioned from Hong Kong to Tokyo to Osaka. One of the great smugglers, he’d done deals with Maria for centuries and the fact that Yuri has left his home for America implies many, many things about the Volturi’s reach. 

He wonders if Li Jie is even still in China. If Li Jie has fallen, that would explain a lot. 

(Politics is a dirty word in their world. Carlisle refuses to engage in it, and he understands - sort of. For all their 

“He run into any kind of trouble?” He finally asks. 

“Not that he mentioned. Just said something about American hospitality. Just a heads up - he might need papers or shit. Where do you need me?”

That was Peter - and Charlotte - in a nutshell. There was nothing they wouldn’t drop to help, to swoop in with an extra set of hands. 

“I need you to track someone down for me,” he says, leaning against the wall. “We’ll need you at the trial, but there’s someone who I need to make sure this…” Doesn’t turn into an irreversible shit-show. Remember when Carmela tried to take Baja, Peter? That’s small potatoes compared to what the Cullens have brought down around our ears. We need a hail-Mary, miracle kind of help.

He explains what he needs carefully; what direction he thinks might work the best. He’s going to need to blackmail and bribe Tomas to make an appearance because if it comes to a fight, Tomas will go down with teeth and nails still slashing and take a very pretty pound of flesh with him. 

Peter is silent on the other end of the phone. “Major, you’re asking for a miracle,” he says finally. “No one has heard from her since she fucked off. If she’s still alive, she can’t possibly be in the US anymore. And I can tell you that she’s been written off as dead for decades by almost everyone.”

“I don’t believe that.” He can’t. Both Plan A and Plan B involve her presence, no one ever wielded an army like she did. He needs her insight, he needs her skill, and he needs her reputation. “And neither do you.”

Silence and the sound of someone fumbling at the phone.

“Jasper.” Charlotte’s on the phone now. “Peter’s being dramatic, we can look but we’re going to need…”

“I’ll transfer the cash straight away. We need the fastest possible turn around, Char. We don’t have enough time.”

Charlotte sighs. “We’ll do our best, Major.”

—

It’s two days later when some semblance of… well, not a plan, but a direction is coming together. Tracking down the right people was half the battle, but he was nearly certain that he’d get confirmation today. 

The rest of the family knew he was working on something, some way to get them out of this mess that wouldn’t humiliate Aro, or call into question the validity of the laws as a whole. Carlisle was very clear that they didn’t want some kind of political uprising or rebellion. Just enough time to explain Bella’s pregnancy, confirm that it was entirely unplanned and not some kind of master plan, and part as friends. 

Jasper wasn’t holding out much hope for that last part. 

Gathered around the dining room table - the family’s war room, when such a thing was needed. Jacob was somehow still eating, and Irina had remained in Forks  - she had clearly decided that Carlisle’s brand of ‘I’m not mad, just Disappointed’ was preferential to going back to Alaska, where Tanya and Eleazar would be waiting to rip her a new asshole - proverbially - for going anywhere near Italy. Let alone without even talking to the Cullens before she started throwing around wild accusations. 

It had been a long week that was only going to get longer - which he could see in the tension of the rest of the family.

“The first thing you need to accept is that this isn’t a trial.” His voice is flat and unfriendly. The child is cradled awkwardly in Edward’s arms, holding onto some mercifully silent toy, fixated on it. He absently wonders if drowning it in the bathtub would be a suitable penance to stop Aro in his tracks. 

But the look in Edward’s eyes at that stray thought is enough. And then Jasper wonders, idly, if this devotion and attachment to the child will last; after all, vampires don’t have offspring. They have no instinct for a dependent child - the connection between a vampire and their creator was nothing like that of parent and child (especially an infant), nor was the connection between coven members. There was every chance that any maternal connection to Renesmee that Bella had would fade after her newborn year, and decay the further she left her humanity behind. 

If they survive this, it’ll be an interesting case study, if nothing else. 

“There is every reason to assume that this ‘visit’ is intended to be an execution,” Jasper continues, and Esme flinches. “I can’t predict whether Aro will opt to sentence some of us, or all of us, or what his plan is. But the plan is for someone to die for this. To put us in our place. That is why he’s bringing an audience - to bear witness to our crimes. And before you say it Rose, we’re guilty by association - the fact we didn’t eliminate Bella after the van accident is a crime in Aro’s view.”

Rosalie frowned, and he could taste her worry on the air. 

“Our best course of action is to gather our own witnesses so that the trial is fair,” he continued. “That the baby is not an Immortal Child, but someone who grows and evolves, and therefore can change and learn. And to remind all three of the Kings that Aro was aware of the van accident, Bella’s knowledge of us, and the incident with James when she was in Volterra. We were given permission to continue as we were to minimise notice from the community. We weren’t charged with any crimes then, and it would look… unseemly to retroactively charge us now.”

“So what do we do?” Jacob asks. Irina looks strained, her hands teasing at a piece of ribbon. 

“I have a contact that I will be reaching out to,” he said grimly. “She’ll be an asset if she’s willing to help us and if I can find her - she’ll have contacts to other potential witnesses, insight into this visit from the Volturi, and stand as a completely neutral witness.” 

“And a Southern Warlord,” Edward sounds aghast, and Bella scoops up the child, her hand smoothing down the red curls. “You’re bringing one of them here?”

“You aren’t considering bringing Maria to Forks?” Carlisle asked uneasily. 

“That would be…” Rosalie began, already getting agitated. 

“A slaughter,” Edward finished, and Jasper resisted the urge to roll his eyes at them. As if Maria didn’t have the control to move about the human world; generally, Maria only pulled a ‘Calgary’ when she was trying to make a point. 

“It’s not Maria,” he said through clenched teeth. “I have some old contacts from the South who can assist us. I’ll need to be in Louisiana by Saturday morning to try and convince her.”

Carlisle still looked uneasy but Rosalie had backed off. Edward was still scowling. 

“If you prefer, I can just drown it and hope that buys us some grace?” Jasper said, his tone prickly, and both Bella and Jacob let out sounds of horror - Bella thrusting the baby at Esme to try and approach Jasper with violence in her eyes, but Edward grabbed her before she could get any closer. 

“That was unnecessary,” Esme said disapprovingly, her hand cupping the back of the child’s head. 

“And dramatic,” Edward is gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to punch Jasper himself. 

“I am trying to protect us,” Jasper replied shortly. “I am trying to get us out of this with minimal loss of life. Frankly, I don’t have much hope for Irina or Edward or Bella or … Renesmee, but if there is the slimmest possible chance that I can keep the rest of you alive and free, I will take it.”

Silence. 

“I can get you a flight to New Orleans Friday night,” Rosalie said, and that thread of fear was back. 

“Make it two,” Edward said, releasing Bella. “I’ll come with you."

“No.” Jasper said.

“Jasper, it might be wiser to go in pairs,” Carlisle said. “In these circumstances, I don’t think setting off alone is ideal.”

“No. It’s a bad idea.”

“Yes. You said it yourself - we have to convince her. If I know what she’s thinking, we can use it. And I want to meet our ‘saviour’,” Edward said, sarcasm and irritation pouring off him. 

“She’s not known for playing nice with others, Edward,” Jasper felt tired, as if his brother was being as difficult as he knew how to be on purpose. “And she can sniff out an agenda before you’ve even opened your mouth. If you want someone to accompany me, Emmett’s the best choice.” Emmett wore his emotions on his sleeve, and the most complex agenda his brother had ever had was to replace Rosalie’s ruined Louboutins before she noticed they’d been destroyed. 

Hell, he’d probably befriend her, and that could only help their cause. 

“Edward is the best choice,” Carlisle said reluctantly. “He can give us insight, even if she refuses to help.”

Carlisle’s not wrong and Jasper hates it. She’s going to need delicate handling, and Edward rarely takes advice from anyone who isn’t Carlisle. The absolutely last thing they need is for Edward to make demands or threats and piss her off. Then they’ll be dealing with an angry veteran and the Volturi. 

“Fine.” His tone is enough to let everyone at the table that he is not happy. “But I need to take the lead. Pissing her off with just make more trouble for us. And if we fuck this up, Maria is our next option. And you know Maria will want her pound of flesh if it works out in our favour.”

That is a proper threat, a tangible one that the entire family sans Bella feels the weight of; Irina looks wary and Jacob looks confused.  

“We will follow your lead, Jasper,” Carlisle says finally, with resignation. “Edward will go with you.”

“The rest of you should reach out to any friends we have. Anyone who will witness the trial. No one is obliged to fight on our behalf or even stay - but they can meet Renesmee and see that she isn’t an Immortal Child. That we did not break the laws.” 

He looks at them. “This isn’t so much about Renesmee or Edward and Bella. This is about the Volturi exerting their power. There is no justice in the Volturi, not anymore.”

[lyn-ne]

Vbs music headcanons based on my music taste

(I’m also gonna assign them a Mitski album :3)

Kohane - she seems like the kind of person to like Laufey. Her favorite songs would probably be Falling Behind and Promise. Also Ricky Montgomery. Also The Crane Wives. She makes me feel like she likes soft but slightly sad love songs. Emphasis on the soft. Also Hozier lover. Her favorite album is Wasteland, Baby! As for her Mitski album, I’d say Retired From Sad, New Career in Business. Can’t explain this one, I just went with sound

An - Olivia Rodrigo, Green Day, Fall Out Boy, Dove Cameron, and definitely Girl in Red. I feel like she likes 90s rock a lot. And indie artists. Considering she most likely grew up on older rock? Also Queen fan. No arguments. Also Lana Del Ray girlie. Toya got her into her. She likes Brooklyn Baby and Stargirl Interlude. And Penelope Scott? Maybe not but I think so. Mitski album- Be the Cowboy. I think she’d like Nobody a lot.

Akito - I mean it’s confirmed he listens to everything but I know for a fact he likes soft metal/hard rock. Also alt/indie. So; Avenged Sevenfold, Mother Mother, Nirvana, Green Day (he’d like Kill the DJ the most), MCR (/j but not really. I think he’d like Teenagers and Na Na Na), Sleeping with Sirens. Also Odetari is his favorite. Not gonna explain if you’ve listened to him. Jhariah as well. Made a post about this a while back but I feel like him and Ena both like Billie Eillish. Also Cavetown enjoyer. He started crying when he heard Boys Will be Bugs for the first time. Mitski album - Puberty 2 and/or Bury me at Makeout Creek

Toya - Laufey, again. Hozier fan. Odetari, maybe a few Nirvana songs? Like I mentioned with An, Lana Del Ray. I think he’d just like vintage sounding songs/soft chill songs. Cavetown. Home awoke something in him. The Neighbourhood (he likes Stargazing and Daddy Issues the most), can’t explain this one but Arctic Monkeys. Stephen Sanchez as well. I think he also likes Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths. Mitski album - This Land is Inhospitable and So Are We. He likes My Love Mine All Mine and got Akito to listen to it with him. Akito cried. 

[heliads]

Hey, I love your writing! I was wondering if you could do this request based on the song favorite crime by Olivia Rodrigo where it’s like that song is Derek Hale saying all that stuff about Kate Argent (but just a bit more angsty) for his younger self falling for her, and now it’s the reader comforting and loving him because of it. Does that make sense? Thank you!

i adore this song so much omg

masterlist

Derek Hale is staring out a photograph. It’s old, so old he can’t remember the exact date it was taken but just enough to picture how he felt at the precise moment the shutter snapped. Derek didn’t even know he had this photo anymore until he was rifling through storage, trying to find something of considerably more importance. Now, he’s just looking at it, all other tasks forgotten when faced with the crippling necessity of this one, this reminder of who he was, how stupid he was when it came to one girl.

The photograph stares at him accusingly from where it’s clutched in his fingers. Two figures smile back at him, practically giddy on how happy they thought they were. There’s a fold deep enough in the paper that it cuts right across the eyes of the girl, although Derek doesn’t need this photograph to remember how Kate Argent’s face looks. He can picture it plain as day, how harsh every line and angle seemed the night she killed his entire family.

He still doesn’t know how to feel about the whole thing. Kate had been older than him then, and she had known exactly what she was doing to the teenage version of Derek unlucky enough to fall into her clutches. Some part of him had known all along that something was wrong, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Know that I loved you so bad

I let you treat me like that

I was your willing accomplice, honey

Besides, he had still wanted to impress her. Derek can remember nights spent out, just the two of them pretending there was a world in which they could skip town and find a life outside of their families. Younger Derek had thought it was such a dramatic reveal when he finally told Kate that he was a werewolf, although, looking back on it now, she had probably known for a very long time.

Back then, though, he fancied them to be a bit of a Romeo and Juliet, him from a werewolf family and her from a clan of hunters. He had really thought they could make it out alive, or do something to fix the irreparable damage between the Argents and every other facet of the supernatural world.

Derek has lost count of all the plans they’d made, all the things he did to keep his family off his back while he was out visiting Kate. He had covered up her family’s exploits further into the Hale side of the woods, pretended he had no idea that the Argents kept getting eerily specific information on the movements of Derek’s family. The only other option was to accept that Kate had betrayed him, and he would rather have died than do that.

In the end, Derek had no choice. Despite the amount of blood he had on his hands trying to keep their future safe, Kate had played her cards exactly as she pleased. Derek had watched his house burn, heard the tortured screams of his family, and known. He knew it was her; perhaps he’d known it all along that she would use him to kill the werewolves in Beacon Hills. There was no perfect Shakespearean ending, not when one of them had been plotting all along.

And I watched as you fled the scene

Doe-eyed as you buried me

One heart broke, four hands bloody

Still, seeing this old photograph plunges him back into the thick of things. He really had believed in her, hadn’t he? It was bizarre to think that he could go from mourning Paige to ever loving again, yet he had when Kate came around. Then again, Derek’s not sure that what he had with Kate Argent was ever truly love. It was some sort of fierce dependency in which he was terrified to be alone and she promised him things he knew would never come true. To a teenage boy who couldn’t take any more losses, it was everything, and then it wasn’t.

Those things I did

Just so I could call you mine

The things you did

Well, I hope I was your favorite crime

The sharp tang of blood in the air snaps Derek out of his haze, and he belatedly realizes that he crumpled the photograph so hard in his hands that one of the edges sliced through his skin and gave him a paper cut. It’s already healing, the skin knitting shut before his very eyes. Derek crosses the room on unsteady feet to drop the blood-spattered photograph in a trash can.

Even with the image out of his hands, though, Derek can’t shake the image of Kate Argent from his eyes. Her pose in the picture had been strange, like she was sinking her claws into younger Derek, and by dragging him into the photo it would cement her hold on him. Some part of him hates her for convincing him that he was nothing without her, and hates himself even more for not seeing through it.

You used me as an alibi

I crossed my heart as you crossed the line

And I defended you to all my friends

Derek manages to find what he was looking for, but he’s still feeling this agonizing pressure to do something, anything, to clear up the guilt in his head, so he heads back downstairs. A girl in the living room looks up at him from where she’s half hidden among tall stacks of papers. Y/N L/N, a very good friend of Derek’s and possibly the only person he actually trusts, has been over here to help him research the latest threat to the town.

She glances up at him, brow furrowed. “You were up in the attic for a while. Everything alright?”

Her gaze flickers to the way Derek walks, and he feels like a museum specimen, tension plainly visible in his stiffened joints. He opens his mouth to say that he’s fine, but the words don’t come out. Somehow, he’s never been able to lie to her.

“No, not right now. I think I’m going to head over to the Hale House.”

Derek says this before he realizes that’s what he wants to do. On second thought, it feels right, like he has to purge all thoughts of Kate Argent from his head by replacing it with memories of his family.

Y/N nods. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Again, Derek pauses, and again, his mouth makes the decision before his brain. “Only if you don’t mind the trip.”

She smiles at him, standing up from her perch amongst the paper printouts and ancient booklets. “Oh, I’d never give up an opportunity to skip out on research time. Are we taking your car or mine?”

“Mine,” Derek decides, and grabs the keys from the nearby countertop. “Shouldn’t take that long.”

He doesn’t actually know if this is true or not, but it feels safer to say. Y/N, to her credit, doesn’t ask stupid questions like if he’s out of his mind (which he is) or why they’re going to the burned out shell of his family home (for no other reason than trying to make him feel better), and he appreciates it. She’s technically one of the Scott-Stiles pack, although she thankfully lacks their tendency to interrogate him on everything under the sun. Sometimes, Derek just wants to be quiet, and she gets it.

They do engage in quiet chatter on the drive over, which calms Derek’s nerves just enough so that he survives the trip. He parks the car on the outskirts of the Beacon Hills Preserve, opting for a longer walk to let the memories come back in full weight, and they set off through the forest.

They’re halfway through fall right now, the leaves stripped bare from the trees and leaving nothing but slender branches rising up to the sky. The Hale House is visible from a distance away, slivers of it present through the gaps in the underbrush.

At last, Derek and Y/N are before the house, and shit, this was a bad idea, because he’s been hit by everything he’s been trying to pretend he doesn’t feel for a very long time. The shell of the place is still intact, even if it looks like a strong wind could blow the whole thing over. The wood panel shutters have fallen off or been so caked in ash that he wouldn’t be able to tell what color they are without his accursed memories, half the windows are broken into dust, and the whole back of the place is gone.

He hates that this is all he has left. Sure, he’s moved to a new apartment, and he still has Peter and Cora, but Derek led a life here once, a life that is utterly gone. No one in this town except him knows how the walls used to shake when he and his friends were blaring music so loudly it could have gotten him a warrant, or how the window third from the left marked his room. There is nothing left but the memories, and those are receding just as quickly as Derek’s grasp on foreign capitals or what on earth Kate Argent could have done to make him trust her so readily.

All the things I did

Just so I could call you mine

The things you did

Well, I hope I was your favorite crime

A hand touches his shoulder, and Derek is so far gone in the past that he’s almost startled when he looks over to see Y/N and not Kate standing there beside him. Her hand on his arm is different, though. Kate used to touch him like her fingers were hooks to dig into his flesh and keep him there beside her, but Y/N’s hands are like an offer that he doesn’t necessarily have to take. There is always the possibility of a no, here. Derek never had that before.

Y/N arches a brow, not needing to ask the question. Derek just grimaces.

“It’s nothing, just some memories I thought I forgot a while back.”

Y/N shakes her head softly. “If I thought this was nothing, I wouldn’t have come.”

The truth in her voice shakes him. For the first time, Derek looks up from the past and realizes that he’s got something good right here next to him. Really good, actually, that’s how he’d put it. When did he start depending on Y/N to get him through all of this? He’s not sure, but he’s damn grateful for it.

Derek raises his arm slowly to take Y/N’s hand, interlocking their fingers as they walk. He doesn’t say anything about it, somehow still foolishly clinging to that one part of himself that really wants to pretend he’s some sort of cold, stony-hearted fighter who’d rather tear someone’s throat out than show any emotion.

Still, he rather likes being able to have Y/N so close. He can feel the pattern of her heartbeat through her fingers, and it keeps him grounded, reminding him there’s still someone here for him. Derek pushes the door open, and it swings on broken hinges at a far jauntier angle than his father would have ever allowed.

Derek isn’t sure what he’s looking for in this place. Closure, maybe, some sign rising out of the ashy darkness that he’s doing alright and needs to move on. As he slowly progresses through the long-destroyed rooms, though, Derek realizes that he’s not going to find that here. There are no glaringly obvious signs, there never have been. What he has to do is look for himself, think for himself. Kate never gave him enough room to do that, but Derek needs it.

It's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do

'Cause I was going down, but I was doing it with you

Yeah, everything we broke, and all the trouble that we made

But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face

At some point he realizes he’s had enough and steps outside again. Enough light made it through the burned out slats and crumbling bricks that the Hale House was no longer dark, but the late afternoon sun still blinds Derek for a moment or so before his eyes adjust.

Derek comes to a stop, breathing in the crisp forest air. It’s tinged with the faint scent of aged smoke, just like everything about the place, but a breeze is diving through the area around him, and it’s gone, forced off to the very edge of his consciousness.

Oh, look what we became

Derek lets his eyes flicker closed, and he breathes in and out slowly. He’s still holding Y/N’s hand, having been unable to let it go for fear of falling into some part of himself Derek had hoped would be long gone but isn’t. He chooses at this moment to let go, though. He can’t hate himself for Kate, not forever. What she did wasn’t his fault, no matter how big of a role he played in trying to pretend otherwise.

Yes, he would have killed to protect their secret a little longer. Yes, maybe it was some parts of himself that he killed to keep them alive. That doesn’t make him a monster, no more than his claws and fangs. A younger version of Derek had broken every good thing in his life just to make Kate Argent his, but Derek doesn’t have to force everything away at arm’s length anymore. He is the boy who had no idea what he was getting himself into, and he is the young man who is better now. They are both him, both Derek Hale, and it’s okay.

All the things I did

Just so I could call you mine

All the things you did

Well, I hope I was your favorite crime

Derek opens his eyes, and the first thing he sees is Y/N. She’s smiling at him, and he’s far more than okay now, standing in the rubble of his fallen home and letting himself rebuild.

“I think I love you.”

The Derek from earlier, even the Derek from this morning, would not have let those words go so easily. He’s afraid of what love can do, or what he would do to keep love around. This, though, Derek trusts this. Y/N can break his heart, or she can make it better than it ever was. He intends on seeing it through.

Derek has time to see a parade of emotions flash through Y/N’s eyes, but the strongest one of all is pure happiness. “I think I love you too.”

He doesn’t remember kissing her until after the fact, but he’s glad that he did. Derek smiles against her lips, and he releases his heart again. No more locks, no more chains. For once, he is free. It is a wonderful feeling.

'Cause baby, you were mine

teen wolf tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra

[juniorgman187]

Spoiled Rotten (Reid Fic)

Summary: After Spencer went radio silent on Reader while he was in prison, their pride and stubbornness threatens to tear them apart forever. Reader’s forced to mourn the death of who they were and experience the inner turmoil of navigating who they are.

A/N: Y’all are gonna kill me for the ending, but it’s one hell of a way to go.  Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Angst Content Warning: Imprisonment, humiliation, abandonment, anger, frustration, angst, yelling, fighting Word Count: 5.3k Playlist: Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo

Time jumps are indicated by “. . .” or “_ _ _”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

A rather unfortunate predicament we’ve found ourselves in tonight. I can’t say I’ve ever been quite this uncomfortable in my life, yet I’m careful not to speak too soon. Because I know the second Spencer opens his mouth to break the silence we’re currently sitting in, I’ll stand corrected. 

“You’re breathing really hard,” He tells me out of nowhere. 

See, I stand corrected. 

Now that I’ve become hyper aware of my own inhale and exhale, my respiration is just that much more restricted. I’m practically holding my breath at this moment - both from the anticipation of catching this unsub in the act and giving Spencer one less thing to scrutinize about me. 

“I didn’t say you had to stop breathing,” He tacks on as if it would put me any more at ease. Not that if he had explicitly said such a thing, I would’ve. 

Unlike other people, I wasn’t exactly jumping at the chance to throw myself at his feet so he’d like me. But to use that as grounds for his disdain would be foolish. Our rancor went deeper than the basic lack of synergy between us. 

And in the spirit of getting to the bottom of that abyssal pit, I finally asked the question with words that always seemed to hang above but never would form. 

“Why was I the only one denied visitation while you were in prison?” 

It may surprise you to know that it wasn’t always like this between us; we were actually close once, although it is hard to imagine that version of us ever really existing. However, if I think about it hard enough, I can remember with perfect clarity who we used to be. 

. . .

“Jeez, you really don’t like these things do you?” I nudged him playfully before feeling instantly guilty once I witnessed the result of my shove that must’ve been a little too much for all 120 (at most) pounds of him. I’d neglected to remember the strength I held over the lanky Doctor as well as neglected to notice where the trajectory of my push would land him - in the direct line of a circus clown walking the opposite direction as us. This, of course, brought him face to face with the character. Unfortunately, I managed to catch a glimpse of the lens of Spencer’s glasses grazing the white face paint of the caricature. 

After a shudder of mortification and a very brave shriek, Spencer ran to my other side to be as far away from the clown as possible and apparently, as close to me as possible. From a distance, you’d think we were conjoined simply by the way he was glued to me - shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. 

While removing his glasses to clean them off with the hem of his blazer, he answered, “Carnivals? I mean, what’s not to like? What with the loud noises, the heart-attack-inducing food that’s more grease than actual food, or the sheer amount of bacteria harboring on each and every handle, hoop, ball, or button of these ridiculous game booths.” 

“Wow, you really don’t like carnivals.” I should’ve figured. 

“Nope. Never have and probably never will.” 

As someone who looked forward to the fair every summer of her childhood, any aversion to carnivals broke my heart. I had a fondness for them borne in adolescence that I couldn’t quite justify now in my adulthood. 

“But they’re fun!” was the best argument I could muster. The whine in my voice being provoked by the possibility that the higher the shrill of my pitch, the easier he’d be to sway. Turns out, Dr. Reid was not nearly as susceptible to my auditory persuasion as I might’ve thought he was. Just a stone cold, inconvincible slab of steel. 

“I’m sorry. I know you brought me here because you love these things, but I just can’t get past the ...” He surveyed the fair, ostensibly against his will, in search of the perfect word to describe our surroundings. “Filth.”

I would’ve argued in the defense of the carnival, mentioning how it’s endearing that the only bathrooms for miles were porta potties, and that the screaming, crying, sticky children galore just added to the attraction, and that there was a hidden charm to the way the roller coasters creaked beyond their means with every ride. 

But to an extent, I agreed. It was rather filthy, and I wasn’t much of a germaphobe myself so to someone like him, this would be hell on earth. 

“Well, you get what you put into it. If you’re willing to overlook some minor imperfections, I really think you’d enjoy this place.” 

Spencer by now had his hands in his pockets and his walking pace had slowed to a complete halt. There was a moment of skepticism, followed by a partially open smile to make way for the laughter that escaped from the disbelief that he felt for letting me break his resolve so easily. 

“Alright then. What do you want to do first, Brat?” 

The nickname I’d earned could be seen as meanspirited, but truly, it was affectionately diminutive. Like all good nicknames are. And like the proclaimed Brat I was, I’d taken him to all my favorite parts of the fair. 

First came the bumper cars to ease him into the experience - as ironic as that sounds. He was reluctant to submerge his gangly body into a mini vehicle, much less one that’d been inhabited by God knows how many people before us, but he pushed his reservations aside when he realized he’d get to slam into my car (safely, of course). 

Secondly, we went on the Carousel, but this was only in preparation for the real ride that I wanted to take him on next - the Swinging Chairs. He’d gotten a little nauseous, from both the repetitive circling and the galvanized chains he had to hold that were definitely held by several others. 

He had no interest in going on the Gravitron - super lame, I know - so we opted for the Ferris Wheel instead. I didn’t mind making this compromise so much after recognizing all that he’d done for my benefit that night. And for his generosity and selflessness, I thought it only fitting to end the night going somewhere so tame he couldn’t possibly have any opposition to it.

The photo booth.

The booth in particular we’d gone to was smaller than an airplane bathroom, if you can imagine that. The bench seat was barely wide enough to fit Spencer, let alone seat the both of us. While he didn’t explicitly make the offer to let me sit on his lap, it was kind of a give in that I’d have some part of my body intertwined around him like stubborn ivy. 

. . .

I still laugh thinking about the tangled mess of limbs we were below what the camera couldn’t capture. It was arguably the furthest extent of contortionist work I wanted to do in my lifetime, and henceforth exceedingly uncomfortable, and yet, I’d never felt more at home than when I was in his arms. 

That night he would tear off the top three photos to keep for himself while I kept the bottom three photos. 

To this day, I have never seen the pictures that he kept, and I’m left to wonder if he had them at all.

Because I still have mine. And they were virtually the only thing keeping me sane throughout his trial and subsequent imprisonment. 

Six Months Ago ...

My eyes were locked on the loose thread of my cardigan that I was rolling between my fingers anxiously. 

“Would you stop that?” Penelope swatted my hand away from my sweater. “You’re making me nervous just looking at you.” She grumbled. 

“Sorry,” I apologized bleakly.

A few seconds later she groaned again, making me think I was still doing something bothersome, but it turned out to be just the opposite. “Ugh, I know that sounded mean, and I hate when I sound mean, but I can feel my forehead creasing from the stress, and watching you fidget is going to give me an ulcer.”

“I wish I could help it. I’m just really worried about him.”

“Well I am, too, but that’s not gonna do us any good right now. All we can do is hope for the best.”

Sometimes Penelope’s overly optimistic view on life was futile and unwelcome, and truthfully, this was one of those times. 

“Penny?” 

As she turned her head, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the lenses of her dark green glasses. I could see my own mournful expression as I asked, “What if he’s found guilty?” 

She started to say something but stopped herself. “Right now, all we need to focus on is his bail. We can worry about a verdict later.” She put her hand on top of mine and shook it briefly to remind me that we were in this together. 

Moments later recess was over and the team came trudging back into the courtroom. 

The sound of the judge clearing her throat and our footsteps on the floor made this feel all too normal. 

How could Spencer’s life be hanging in the balance in such a place as non-intimate as this? 

It frustrated me how casual things felt today and how everyone was acting normally. Prentiss had yet to bat an eye, Rossi’s stoic expression never changed, and Penelope was telling me not to worry. Everyone was acting so aloof. 

My eyes darted to Spencer, who was looking back at us woefully. I couldn’t bear to see him like that any longer, so I kept my head down and stared at my feet after I took my seat. 

Even when I closed my eyes, I was haunted by the vision of him in a suit, just like one he’d wear to work. But instead, he was wearing it for this - this vastly different situation. 

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at him the same in one anymore. I’ll probably just remember this particular look on his face, in this god awful courtroom, during this horribly nauseating circumstance. 

If one thing was for certain, it was that this would all come back to me if I ever laid eyes on him in a suit, and that thought fucking terrified me. 

Because that one thought spiraled into the next: Everything was bound to change after this. Every little thing would change in every little way. 

Spencer’s lawyer, the judge, and the prosecutor were going back and forth for a while, but I tuned it all out because I knew if I had tuned in, I wouldn’t have been able to hold back my arguments. Eventually, though, I heard something I could no longer ignore. 

“If past behavior is the best indicator of future conduct, and I do believe it is, then your client presents a flight risk.”

I stood up immediately, getting a head rush from the speed. I knew what was to follow, so I needed to be on my feet the second I heard it. Maybe so I could run and escape before I had to.

“Bail is denied. The defendant will remain in federal custody pending trial.” 

“Spencer!” I shouted, losing all the composure I’d been trying to maintain. I reached for him as if he was at any capacity to reach back and hold me. God, I needed him to hold me. Hold me like how he did at the carnival. 

Hold me.

Luke held me back as I fought to be near him.

“Let me go!” I screamed, trying to break free of his tight grip. Spencer could only stand and stare, mirroring my own wistful glance. He mouthed something to me that I couldn’t quite make out, but if I knew him at all, he probably said something about not wanting me to worry about him. 

“(Y/n), (y/n) it’s gonna be alright.” JJ reasoned, pulling me into a hug. 

“How long before this case goes to trial?” I heard Prentiss whisper to Spencer’s lawyer. 

“It’s a complicated case. I’d say three months maybe?” 

Immediately, I worked myself out of JJ’s arms and pushed my way through the team, running up to the barrier between us.

“Spence!” I cried out in anguish. 

To the sound of my voice, he glanced over his shoulder sadly. He wasn’t even shocked I’d been able to get so close to him - he seemed to expect it, and for that, he was sad. Because he knew if I was going to be as stubborn as to fight to get to him at this hearing, then I was going to be stubborn enough to reach him in prison, too. And should he find himself behind bars, he knew that I’d get to him one way or another. 

That is if he’d let me. 

“Be strong,” He weakly smiled. ‘For me’ his sad eyes begged in addition. He held my gaze for as long as he possibly could before disappearing into another room. 

As I watched him walk away, I could feel my heart shattering and crumbling into the pit of my stomach. Perhaps that was a premonition, a true gut feeling, telling me something I at the time couldn’t have known and wouldn’t have accepted. 

That was the last time I would see Spencer. 

People always say when something unbelievable happens, it doesn’t feel real, but this? Nothing felt more real and more intense than this. 

There was no other way for me to see this situation but as the first defeat in an endless line of them.

If Spencer was denied bail, what else could happen to him? Could he be found guilty too? Because prior to this, the denial of his bail seemed impossible. He posed no flight risk, but according to the judge, he did. So if what I once thought to be impossible happened, then it could and would happen again.

I knew Spencer was going to be found guilty.

What I didn’t know, though, was how I was going to live with myself from then on.

I didn’t go that day. 

I knew myself too well. So did the others, which is why they didn’t object to my decision not to come to Spencer’s trial. They knew I was better off staying home. Especially, if there was the chance that I might react hysterically again.

I didn’t stay home, though. That part the team never found out about. 

I went to visit Diana instead. A much wiser choice, in my opinion. 

“You know, we’ve been talking so much about Spencer today, but we haven’t talked about you yet,” said Diana. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” I feigned a polite smile. 

“You thought I wouldn’t notice?” She tilted her chin downward and gave me that sly grin of hers. 

“No, no, of course not. I know better than to underestimate the Diana Reid.” I quipped, making her smile widen. “I just figured you’d wanna spend your time talking about someone much more interesting.” 

“Oh please, Spencer and I talk about you all the time.”

I perked up from the checker piece I was fiddling with. “You do?”

“Mhm,” She nodded over and over again. “I always knew there was something between you two because you could always talk about each other to me, but for some reason, you could never actually talk to each other.”

For the first time in months, I genuinely laughed and I couldn’t help it. “He makes me nervous! I always feel like he might correct something I say, or tell me that there’s food in my teeth.” 

“You know, now that you mention it, I do remember him saying something about seeing a really big piece of lettuce in your teeth one time.” 

“Diana!” I squealed, pushing the checkerboard at her, pretending to take offense. 

“I really don’t know what you’re so nervous about! I think it would be good if you just talked to him.” 

“It’s, um, it’s not that simple. Not right now, at least.” 

My energy quickly nose-dived and I tried to do my best to hide it from Diana, but it permeated through the rest of the visit. I couldn’t fully enjoy myself after it. 

The team and I all agreed not to let Diana know, especially not with the uncertainty of the case. There was no point riling her up if there was nothing to be worried about. And I could only imagine how I reacted - Diana would be reacting 10 times more hysterically. 

But as much as I hated to say it, I almost would’ve rather been in her position. 

I would give anything to un-know Spencer’s circumstance.

Present Time ...

In this car, there was nowhere for him to run or hide, not like before.

Anytime I so much as entered his gravity by being in the same room, he’d flee the space in the next breath. Granted, he couldn’t really avoid me entirely. We did have to be on the same flight for an extended period of time, but he made that work by letting me choose my spot first, then choosing a spot directly on the opposite side of the jet. 

What a gentleman, huh?

“Kudos to you, by the way. For managing to avoid me for this long. I imagine it’s been as not-easy as it has been incredibly-cowardly.” My words stung as they flowed from my lips as badly as I imagine they seared his already cracked skin. I couldn’t believe that now that I finally had the opportunity to talk to him, I was using it to be petty and passively aggressive. But then again, I could. 

Because after what he put me through, he deserved to feel the full severity of my indignation.

My only wish was that he knew exactly how I had felt when I found out. 

. . .

Icarus. 

He died tragically while using artificial wings, invented by his father, to escape from the Labyrinth. When Icarus flew too close to the sun, it melted the wax that held the wings together, and he fell into the sea.

‘Don’t fly too close to the sun.’ That’s the moral of the story. That’s what Reid was trying to tell me. But I didn’t listen. 

I flew too close. 

I had approached the window with more zeal than this predicament warranted. 

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n). I’m here to see Spencer Reid, R-E-I-D,” I eagerly spelt his last name with ease as though it were my own last name. 

She’d flipped back and forth between pages, running her index finger up and down the sheet for far too long that it made me worry. Turns out, I had every right to be worried. 

“I don’t see you on the list, ma’am.” 

I was so mindnumbingly dumb that I couldn’t even see how dumb I was being. “Oh no no no, I’m with the FBI. I called earlier and left a message, remember?” 

“Yeah, I remember you,” She smiled politely, giving me the tiniest fragment of hope. “But you’re not on his list.” Only for it to be shattered in an instant. 

I had yet to process or accept this information. “So what does that mean?”

“It means he doesn't wanna see you right now. And frankly, neither do I. Next!” 

“Wait, could you just please check with him? My name is (y/n) -” 

“Ma’am, you are holding up a whole line of people that wanna see their loved ones too, so I suggest you see yourself out before I call security to help see you out.” 

I knew by her tone of the word ‘help’ that meant a prison guard would most likely forcibly remove me from the premises, and the last thing I needed was to feel even more humiliated. 

I got plenty of that when I had to come back to the BAU. 

“You’re not on the list?” Luke seemed genuinely shocked. More so than I was. Above all, I just felt really stupid. 

“I’m sure it was just a mistake.” Stephen reasoned. He was so good at being level-headed. Which normally, I would’ve loved. But right now, it only fueled the fire burning in my chest.

“That’s what I thought at first, too. But later on, she asked him herself, and he said - and I quote, ‘I don’t want to see her. Not now. Not ever.’”

. . .

Those were the words that seared my skin, and he hadn’t even spoken them directly to me to do it. 

The words that did just enough to heal me back to health were, of course, Penelope’s.

“Since you haven’t seen him yet, the rest of us will just wait until you have. It’s only fair that you have your first turn before the rest of us go back for a second time.” 

Back then, it was easy to hold out hope, but the more and more time passed, the more he kept denying my visits. Therefore, the more my hope began to fade. 

It had been weeks since anyone else had seen him before I finally surrendered. Although I had newly-brewing sourness towards Reid, it didn’t feel fair to deny him everyone else’s presence until mine was permitted. 

Luke was the one who volunteered to visit first. And to my dismay, Spencer didn’t fight against it. 

The proof was finally there. Now I could say with absolute certainty: Spencer just didn’t want to see me. 

It was both ironic and utterly frustrating to think about how I’d never gone more than two weeks without seeing him. Even when the BAU got time off after big cases, we’d always spend that time together. The longest we’d spent apart was 12 days. And right when he came back to D.C, we were attached at the hip for the next week, trying to compensate for all that time we were apart. 

Now, look at us. I haven’t said one word to him in half a year. 

If tragedy and comedy could coexist, this would be it. 

“How is he?” I asked Luke as soon as he got back. 

“He’s holding on,” Luke affirmed with confidence. What he said next lacked any of that. “He told me to tell you not to worry about him.” 

Something in me knew it was a lie. “Did he actually say that?”

His lack of an answer was one itself. 

“Did he say anything at all about me?”

“I tried telling him how much you wanted to see him, but he just brushed it off. I’m sorry, (y/n).” 

This became my routine for the months to follow. Every time someone would come back from the prison, I’d ask them if they talked about me, but the answer was always no. After a while, it had gotten to the point where I purposefully started leaving myself out of the loop. At least in that case, it was by my own volition that I was being excluded, not by a predicament being forced on me. 

Not by Spencer. 

“We’re not doing this right now,” Spencer declaration brought me back to the present, where I found him removing himself from both the conversation and the vehicle. When I heard the latch click to open, my hand reflexively flew to my auto-lock to prevent him from leaving. Naturally, he still managed to escape using his door’s button.

If I couldn’t stop him, then I could follow him. 

“Then when will we do this? Huh, Spencer? When? Because anytime I try to talk to you, you run away.” The mere fact that I was speed-walking after him was proof. While he casually strolled down the sidewalk paying me no mind, I tried to be clever and walk down the street so we’d be somewhat side to side. I was tired of staring at his back every time he walked away. I needed to see his face.

For his every stride, I had to take at least three steps. He was gliding through the world so effortlessly as I was trekking my uphill battle. It was quite fitting, though. Further exemplification that, between us, I was fighting harder to preserve the people we used to be, the relationship we used to have. Meanwhile, he couldn’t care less. A stone cold, inconvincible slab of steel. Just like he always was. 

As I began to speak, I had to also be conscious of the parked cars along the curb, being careful to weave in and out. 

“For months, you have blatantly ignored me. The entire time you were in prison, you denied my visits. And it’s not like it was a one time thing. I tried to visit you over 100 times while you were in jail! 100 times I got rejected. 100 times I got turned away. 100 times my heart shattered.” 

By now, I was speaking so loudly that I could see household lights within neighboring homes turning on. I hadn’t even realized how far we’d walked down the street and away from our car, but it was the last thing on my mind. 

“Then after you were released, it’s like I never even existed. I had to find out that you were out of there a week later than everyone else because they all assumed you came to me yourself to tell me the good news,” I laughed wryly at my own stupidity. “Do you know how hard it was for me?” 

“Do you know how hard it was for me?” 

It took me a second to register that he was actually engaging with me in this conversation now. But when I looked at his expression, I could see that something within him had snapped. A little piece of me was glad, though. Now I knew for sure that there was some effect I had on him. 

“Hard for you?”

“I know you came to visit me 100 times! Want to know how I know? Because I was there, too! I was there every time a guard came to ask if I wanted to see you. I was there every time I turned you away. And while you got to walk out of those doors every time I did, I was stuck in there, rotting in that cell, thinking about how badly I wanted to see you. How badly I wanted to touch ...” His voice faltered. “To touch you. But I had to protect you!” 

“You do realize in protecting me, you were hurting me in the process.” 

“Because you just don’t know when to leave well enough alone!” His hands tugged at the root of his unruly hair like evidence of the frustration that my stubbornness caused. “You’re such a pain in the ass because you can never cooperate! It’s gotta be your way or no one else’s! ‘Spencer, it has to be this way because I said so. Spencer, you have to let me see you because I said so. Spencer, you have to talk to me because I said so. Spencer, you have to ride this stupid roller coaster because I said so,’” His imitation of my nagging voice would’ve made me laugh before. Now, it was bringing me onto the verge of tears. “Since clearly no one’s told you this before - not everything is about you! You just want it to be because you’re a whiny, little brat! You’re so spoiled rotten that you can’t even see how far down it goes. If you did, you’d know that you’re rotten to the core and that nothing will ever satisfy you. Especially me.”

His words had done more than sear me. They pierced me. They ripped me. They destroyed me. When he called me Brat, I thought it was endearing. Now, looking back, I realize - no, that’s just how little he thought of me. 

As I came to the conclusion, I stopped dead in my tracks on the pavement. 

I was done chasing Spencer.

His face had fallen from its anger, indicating he was apologetic, but I was beyond accepting his sorry excuses anymore. I couldn’t stand to look at him so I looked behind me to find our car at least a football field away. I guess in many ways, I’d gone the whole nine yards. 

“This is what you wanted right?” I turned back to him momentarily. My voice scared me how calm it was because, inside, I was boiling with rage. “Well, here you go, Spence. Have all the fucking space you want.” 

It was usually me watching his back while he walked away, and now, he was watching mine. 

“(Y/n), wait!” 

And for the briefest second, it actually felt good to be the first one to leave. 

I was free. 

_ _ _

To my dismay and relief, when I walked into work the next morning, he wasn’t there. I would’ve looked for him with more than a cursory glance except I was stuck on looking at something strange in the bullpen that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. But as I walked further in, a blaring siren went off in my head. 

Spencer’s desk is completely empty. 

I instantly sorted through my purse for my phone to reach Prentiss when I noticed something more. 

I had been desperate to cling onto any notion that he still loved me, and there it was, just sitting on his desk. Proof that the man I loved was still in there somewhere.

The top three pictures from the carnival photo booth.

I laughed, as I always did, thinking about how much we had to exert ourselves to be positioned in a semi-adequate way. In the next wave, I felt profoundly empty. He had kept the pictures all these years, and now that I finally get to see them, he’s left me.

As I brought my hand to my face to clear the tears pooling at my lower lashes, I saw that my finger had an ink smear on the pad of it. There was nowhere else I could’ve obtained it except for if there was writing on the back of the photos. 

What I read when I turned it over was as follows. 

I want to be this guy for you again, (y/n). I just don’t know how. 

I just don’t know if I can.

No matter how much I’ve changed, one thing’s still the same.

I love you. 

I should’ve focused on the message, but all that I could focus on was that if I managed to smear the ink, that meant it was fresh, written just now. 

He was still here. 

I pocketed the photos and abandoned my purse, only carrying with me the phone that I forgot to use to dial Prentiss. After a moment’s indecision, I figured that taking the stairs would be faster than the elevator, and I bounded down the steps without hesitation. 

“Spencer!” I yelled into the parking structure when I reached the ground floor. The sound of me bursting through the door caught the attention of Anderson, who was getting out of his car. 

“I just saw him leave.” Anderson threw his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the exit. I knew, even in my state of mind, there was no feasible reality where I could reach him on foot. I had to call him. 

I pleaded to myself for him to pick up with every ring of my phone. 

“(Y/n),” He said like a statement instead of a question. Again, he’d anticipated I’d do this. He probably picked it up not even having to look at the caller ID but knowing it was me and no one else. 

“I don’t need you to be the guy you were before, Spencer. I just need you to bend a little bit. I know we’re both stubborn people, but if we can just find a halfway point-”

“(Y/n), (y/n),” He was settling me and the sentences that were coming out of my mouth at 100 mph. 

“I’ll bend if you bend.” I promised. 

The static of the call filled my ears until his voice finally did.

“For everyone else, I bend ... for you, I break.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

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[omi9iri]

sequel: GETAWAY CAR

“So you’ll teach me?”

Your eyes widen in surprise beside him. He smirks. You’ve been asking him for a while now, but his schedules been busy, leaving your request ignored.

“Only if you promise me something.”

You perk up. “What?”

“When you pass,” You watch the street light go from green to red. The car stops. His fingers tilt your head towards him and he leans in to kiss you. The kiss feels a lot like the sunshine that’s peering through the window of the passenger’s seat. “You make my house your first destination.”

You’re in the driver’s seat for the first time and you find yourself breaking the promise.

The freedom that came with the thin, plastic card had been long-awaited. You were supposed to be relieved, satisfied, happy. Yet, even as you hold between your fingers, examining its bolded features, you were still yearning for something else.

You tell yourself it’s not your fault, you didn’t want to break it, it’s because he had broken a promise first.

A promise of —

“—Forever?”

You ask him, not hearing what he said the first time. Somehow the conversation shifted from ring pops to this.

He hums in agreement, his thumb rubbing soft circles into the skin of your thigh. “Forever.”

He says it like it’s nothing, like it isn’t a huge commitment for two naive high schoolers, like the idea of being with you, out of all people, was something he never had to think twice about.

“That’s a long time.”

He chuckles and takes his hand off to ruffle your hair. “Yeah and I’ll be here.”

He breaks it when you wear forever on your sleeve and he starts to hide it under his. It’s there even after he broke up with you over the phone, talking about it won’t work with all this distance. But you’re sure that’s not the whole reason, because you didn’t miss the secret glances he shared with her. You didn’t miss when he killed a spike and turned to her cheery voice instead of yours. And when he went off for college, you didn’t miss how they had grown closer as the two of you grew apart.

You’re a graduate now, but you feel like a fool. Your third year went by in a haze since you hadn’t even tried to go out without the force of your friends. Why were you so content staying heartbroken? Maybe it’s because you’re hoping he’ll come back and mend you. Maybe it’s because when he said his always and forevers, you believed it more than he did.

“You’re coming to the dinner party tonight right?” Kenma’s voice through the bluetooth speaker draws you out of your thoughts and you drop the card into the confines of your cup holder.

You smile faintly. “Nah. I’ll probably just sulk if I go. It’s all I’ve done this summer.” You’ll probably do more than sulk if Kuroo’s showing up with her.

His voice is nonchalant when he retorts, “You’ll get over it. You always do. So... stop talking about it.”

The smile on your face threatens to grow as you dwell on the subtle words of comfort. You’ll miss Kenma when you leave. He’s been there to let you vent about your school problems, home problems, and to his annoyance, boy problems, all from his player 2 console.

“Ah, don’t worry. I’m done now.”

Your call ends and the moon becomes your new friend as you make your way around your old block. All of a sudden, your mind is rerunning every kiss, every fight, every sorry and i love you. You pass the sidewalks you guys used to walk to school and back and you remember when he’d walk on the outer side and tell you, it’s safer. You remember how euphoric it felt to laugh over the music on the radio and to sing at the top of your lungs to it after.

And, god, it hurts. It hurts knowing that he’s perfectly fine with her in his arms instead of you. But, you’ve cried enough these past few months to know that it doesn’t change anything.

So, you enjoy the moon’s glimmering smile over your city as you pass by his street for the last time and make your way foward for the first time.

》 BACK TO MASTERLIST

A/N : i got this idea from tiktok user @daiansimpsfor2d!! ❤️ almost cried while writing this😀 i wanna dedicate this first kuroo fic to @neoheros — youre my fav kuroo writer i always go back to ur masterlist and binge ur fics😭

[lilliagradiewrites]

you said forever (peter parker)

Summary: Peter trained you to be an Avenger, and promised he’d be with you every step of the way. Turns out, forever isn't very long, and promises can’t always be kept.

WC: 1k

Warnings: death! angsty af. very sad (i’m sorry i had to do it to y’all)

A/N: Driver’s License by Olivia Rodrigo came out a few days ago and I had to write a lil piece inspired by it. This is really short, and really sad, so I’m sorry lol. I wrote the last half of this high so sorry if it’s a little weird lol. I love you all <3

(I encourage you to listen to driver’s license while reading)

~~~~

He said forever, now you walk past his suit in solitude.

It still stands in the lab, as if it’s waiting for him to come in and wear it again.

Sometimes, you see it in your peripheral vision, and you think it’s him. You always  whip around towards it, thinking you’d finally woken up from this bad dream.

But then it’s just his suit, standing there next to yours.

Like he should be standing next to you right now.

Peter was many things during his lifetime, but there was one word that describes him perfectly:

Peter Parker was wholeheartedly, undeniably good.

You always loved that about him. He was caring, and kind, and was always first to help someone that needed it.

You never thought it would be his goodness that got him killed.

You remember the day that it happened. It was your first mission, the one that determined your future with the Avengers.

“If this mission goes well, that suit is all yours.” Stark had told you before sending you on your way, Peter and Natasha by your side.

The mission was simple, a big bank robbery downtown. These two had done a million robberies by themselves. Should be easy, right?

Wrong.

The information you had been getting from the news had been entirely incorrect. Reports said there were two guys on the job…

Turns out there was actually eight.

Already, you were severely outnumbered.

“It’ll be fine.” Peter said. “We’re superheroes, right? We can take a few bank robbers.”

“There’s more than a few, Pete. It’s eight on three. We should probably call for backup.”

Peter shook his head. “It’s fine, Y/N. We got this. And besides, when you earn your spot on the team, it’ll be even more impressive.”

All you did was nod.

God, how you wish you would’ve said no. You wish you would’ve protested further, insisted that you call for backup. Perhaps, if you’d pressed on a little more, he’d be with you now.

But you didn’t, and he isn’t.

It had all happened so quickly. You have taken down six out of eight guys, but two retreated back into the building.

Peter, being the hero he is, followed both of them back into the building.

At the time, you were apprehensive about it. But, it was Peter. What could go wrong?

A lot, apparently.

You don’t know what really happened in that building that day. Peter went in, the building went up in flames, and he never came out.

Now, you stand at the fireproof suit Stark had managed to collect from the fire.

“It should have protected him.” Tony choked out as he held the suit. “It must have been so hot, the suit deactivated…”

He had since restored it to it’s best form. The suit was clean and once again fully functioning, though you made Tony promise that no one else would ever wear it again.

It stood in perfect condition, right next to your suit of the same status.

The two looked so good next to each other. Your lighter colored suit was a perfect contrast to his dark red and blue one.

You were supposed to be there together.

But now you weren’t.

He’d promised he’d be there standing beside you the day you got your suit. He’d train you to be a fighter, taught you what it meant to be a hero. Showed you what it was like to be an avenger. He was there through everything, from the very start.

This was supposed to be the beginning of a new era for you, but it feels like nothing but the end of the old era.

Feelings of freshness and new beginnings couldn’t be had when you were focused on nothing than the late love of your life.

“I got my new suit last week, peter.” You said in the direction of the red and blue colors that you knew so well. You knew that the suit was occupied by a mannequin, but in your mind, you could see him wearing it instead.

“Just like we always talked about. ‘Cause you were so excited for me to finally fight alongside you. But today I went on my first real mission, and then I cried because you’re not around.

And you’re probably listening to me somewhere. But I honestly sometimes have doubts. But somewhere different from me, I think you can hear okay.

Yeah, today I went on my first real mission, but I don't want to fight alongside anyone else.

I know you’re a hero, that you saved us all, but you left me alone because you just had to be so brave.

But I don’t think I'll ever be okay again, now that you’re gone.

You couldn’t promise anything that you said to me, because of what you did.

But you said forever, and now I’m all alone with just your suit.”

And finally, you broke down crying again. You knew you weren’t talking to him, but some part of it felt like you were.

He said forever.

Why did he say a word like that? Like forever.

It seems like the longest time, but actually it’s not. It goes by so quickly, and you take every single moment for granted without even realizing.

Every hug could’ve been a few seconds longer.

Every kiss could have been with a little bit more love.

You could’ve had late nights and early mornings, just to cherish every last second with the boy you loved.

But you didn’t, and now you don’t have any moments left to cherish.

He was gone.

Forever really isn’t very long, after all.

~~~~

I’M SORRY OK

[teecupangel]

Hi Teacup, I love the asks and answers. It's a nice treat to read especially when I feel depressed.

So I have been having an idea bug me for a while now and that is Desmond fully going to die, but at the last second two more people join him. He passes out from the ordeal but he sees the Templar Cross. It's not Abestrgo, but Templars of old. The thought is everyone brings back the assassins of old, so why not Templars and make them the good guys. I typically have Haythem Kenway, Shay Cormac, Ulberto, Cesere Borgia, Robert De Sable, and Kjotve the Cruel. I also add in Father Maffei, (he is the monk who was the tutor of the Medic children) and Rodrigo Borgia for flavor. So between Assassins Creed 3 and Valhalla Desmond is just chilling with these Templars just as friends. Oh Edward Kenway is there for added drama. Yes I have added in Daniel Cross and Lucy Stillman but that will be up to you.

Anyway look forward to the shinaginges that unfold.

I’m so happy to know these asks and answers are able to give you a little pick me up whenever you need it <3

I feel like around the time of Black Flag, he’d still be a little wary of his Templar ‘companions’, especially with Cesare Borgia and Uberto Alberti.

Like, Haytham Kenway would probably be the one he finds easiest to talk to because… it’s Haytham Kenway. He might have some choice words for how he acted around Ratonhnhaké:ton but he was familiar and Desmond knew him most of all.

He’d also be chill with Shay Cormac because he doesn’t actually know him via the Animus.

Father Maffei is on his shit list though because he’s the one who led the guards who captured the Auditores.

Surprisingly, he’d be okay with Robert de Sablé for some reason. Maybe it’s a ‘residue’ of Maria Thorpe’s genetic memories, maybe it’s because his actions didn’t affect Altaïr as severe as the others, maybe it’s because he’s quite polite even after learning Desmond was an Assassin.

He wouldn’t see eye to eye with Kjotve as well since he is… well, he enjoyed death and destruction.

It’s only at the end of Black Flag’s storyline that he starts to be okay around them because they’re all dead and the afterlife has a way of soothing the rough edges brought by mortality.

It’s easier to talk to Cross than Lucy though for Desmond because Lucy betrayed him while Cross was just… his enemy from the start.

Sure, he did bad things but that felt more like stories to Desmond since he wasn’t there.

And there was something in the afterlife that made it easy to just… let go of things.

By the time Edward Kenway appeared, Desmond and the others are very chill with each other but they ignore everyone’s past (well… they don’t talk about topics that would remind people while they wanted to kill each other).

Having Edward make things the brittle peace crack in a lot of ways, most especially on the side of the Kenway family drama.

Desmond wouldn’t even be sure if he should be part of any of that since they’re father and son but he will. Since he’s the only Assassin in this little patch of afterlife and he has remnants of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s Bleed, he and Edward would gravitate towards one another.

Edward would be the one questioning why Desmond would be okay with all of them. Sure, some of them, maybe but at least three of the people with them orchestrated the death of Ezio’s father and brothers.

That’s when the doubt would set in…

Did Desmond form bonds with them naturally?

Or was there something in this place that was soothing them to the point of them losing something intricately them?

[madlilsongbird]

Watching The Amazing Spidernan movies so that I’m all caught up before No Way Home. Will add my thoughts as I have them. Note I am not some big Spider-Man fan nor have I read the comics so if my thoughts sound kinda stupid they probably are.

First movie:

That’s a good trick with the broom. Making a mental note as we speak.

Actually seeing Peter say goodbye to his parents is horrible and I would like to never experience it again

SALLY FIELD IS AUNT MAY?! Why does this one have the good cast? (not good as in better but good as in more well known)

The sexual tension in “good morning flash…good morning Peter” (this is a joke I’m not shipping him with his bully)

Jesus roid rage much?

Shut your blinds! I don’t know who would be looking in your window at this exact moment but close them anyway!

First careful, you never know who is watching what you search (when did I become this person)

Second…curt connors is ableist.

Poor Rodrigo Guevara

Oh internalised ableism. And that is the only comment I will make going forward because my disabilities do not include limb difference and I dont want to overstep.

Stop following the man, you are not subtle…wait wtf how’d he do that?!

This is where he gets his powers right?

Okay but when would 5 men make that much of a fuss over a woman that only 1 of them seems to know?

Same. (This is in reference to smashing the alarm clock)

Oh my god is it really necessary to show all the different kinds of spider bites.

Actually just going back to the internalised ableism thing…he is allowed to feel whatever type of way about his own disability that is his right. But insinuating that all disabled people are weak and wanting to breed out the weakness is eugenics and just kinda gross. THIS is the final comment I will make on the matter.

No but seriously he is way more aggressive than regular teen boy aggressive so either he’s on something or he’s overcompensating for something

The way he looks at him doe (again all jokes am not shipping flash and Peter)

Why is this so awkward? And not like teens navigating a crush awkward just genuinely awkward. I feel no chemistry between them.

I like the song, it’s an interesting choice for this scene but I like it.

Stop does uncle Ben die now? Like I know uncle Ben dies at some point but I was really kinda hoping he just wouldn’t in this iteration. I was going for a ninth doctor moment “just this once everybody lives”

MOTHERFUCKER

God Sally is incredible

Don’t show me moments of Flash being human I might accidentally start shipping them for real and that simply can’t happen.

Oooh he’s a fashion designer

I just really enjoy how he takes the piss out of his victims? Arrests?

Is Gwen aware that the school nurse can’t cure everything? Both legally and just like generally doesn’t have the knowledge to cure everything. She suggests going to the nurse a lot.

This family gives me bad vibes

This is a long movie…it’s not even half way through

Well that’s one way to tell her

NOT GEORGE FOYET!

I think with what I remember of SpiderTobey and what I know of SpiderTom, Andrews Spider-Man is definitely better with the people he’s rescuing. Smoother, good bedside manner.

His sons name is Jack. Why does that make me angry?

So he’s just not gonna rescue the other people hanging off the bridge?

It’s almost poetic that the son of the man tried to stop him the first time will be the one to stop him now

Now how is he getting enough power in the sewer

No means no Peter

Does she die in this one or the next one? I don’t imagine her dying will help captain stacey see him as a good guy

Stan 🥺

This movie is exhausting and I don’t know if I mean that in a good way or a bad way.

MoThEr HuBbArD aRe YoU sErIoUs

He managed to get three whole words out and you didn’t think to ease up on the trigger a little to hear what those words might be?

She’s very clever and I will be sad to see her go

That wasn’t her scream. Or it was but from a different take.

Foyet about to be coming in clutch

I’m going to cry.

He’s so ugly. Some lizards are really cute but lizard + human, kinda gross looking.

Well shit. I didn’t know that happened. I guess what I said about him being upset with Peter about Gwen is irrelevant. Unless it isn’t, like if you believe in the afterlife, imagine how pissed he’s gonna be when Gwen arrives.

He finally got the eggs 🥺

As someone who’s boyfriend at the time didn’t go to her fathers funeral I feel ya Gwen. I mean I don’t care now but at the time it sucked.

Dr Connors was just in a silly goofy mood. He seems to show genuine care for the boy (this is mostly sarcasm).

Second movie

Oh we’re going back to peters dad.

How do they have access to a private jet?

Miss Honey is badass

Ngl I’m actually quite relieved they both died before the plane crashed. Stil devastating though.

Okay so this is first up on the list of potential mystery villains in No Way Home…he looks like a tool.

HeLLo PeDeStRiAnS

He really just let Spider-Man put his hand on his tongue. Sir do you know where his hand has been? Not to mention just in general the feeling of spandex on your tongue. I feel ill.

No respect for the proper care of plutonium.

Please don’t ever say “come to daddy” again 😂

I’m kinda sad Jamie Fox becomes a villain, his character seems kinda sweet so far from the 2 seconds I’ve seen of him

You mean to tell me he missed his girlfriend’s fathers funeral AND her valedictorian speech?!

Stan x2 🥺

Because you can’t lose me you’re going to lose me? 😂

I love her jacket

Why are they still pretending like she doesn’t know?

I may have spoken to soon about Max

See I would be speeding up daddy’s death if he told me he’d passed down a genetic disease and just decided not to tell me.

Friendship.

Okay max is still a little bit nutty but you gotta feel bad for the guy. He must’ve been so scared.

Don’t smile that’s not cute, if he was a regular boy you’d file a restraining order.

Oh I see Spider-Man is gonna fight him which will make him turn and become the “bad guy” whether he will actually be a bad guy is still unknown.

This scene is actually kinda just making me angry (the time square scene)

Cops suck man. Peter was talking him down just fine.

Did nobody teach these people not to touch metal when there’s electricity about.

Interesting that I didn’t pick up any chemistry from them in the first movie weren’t they an actual couple for a while?

Another good song with an interesting placement

I’m sorry did the caller ID not say Mary Parker? How was it Harry on the phone?

Run Gwen!

This version of Harry is kinda creepy I’m sure the actor is swell but the character is terrifying. Original version Harry was swell whereas the actor is…

“Maybe everyone has a part of themselves they hide” gives him the eye

This movies shorter or at least it feels shorter

An excellent show of what happens when you tell a rich daddy’s boy no for the first time.

This makes me very sad. She’s so excited for the possibility of Oxford.

As much as Harry disturbs me, I want him to burn his entire team.

His daddy really did love him!

I think it’s mostly his eyes, his behaviour can be explained by trauma (why I find Harry creepy)

Okay most of his behaviour. The taking joy in killing people that’s just him being nutty and not a trauma response.

This is fucked up. And where is Peter? he is off chasing a girl who has broken up with him twice now.

PLANES NEED THE POWER!

I really like SpiderAndrew, the movies are fine but as a character I thoroughly enjoy him

Sorcerers apprentice who?

Captain Stacy can’t blame him! She’s clearly stubborn as hell and her own free woman

I quite literally stopped breathing (in reference to the almost plane crash)

Is this why they made it Gwen and not MJ so that he could kill her and be an actual bad guy? From my little knowledge of the comics and what I’ve seen from the movies Harry would never hurt MJ so it had to be someone else important to Peter but not super important to him for him to a real bad guy

I like that Harry actually looks like a goblin.

What was the disease he’s supposed to have?

This poor family. I know I said they gave me bad vibes in the first movie but nobody deserves this.

He looks less like a tool with his suit on…but only slightly less

Baby you better get back behind that baracade!

Nobody talk to me I’m very emotional. This child looks very much like a magical mix of all 3 of my brothers put together and seeing him stand there so brave but so scared is doing something to me.

Final thoughts:

So I think SpiderAndrew might be a close second favourite for me. I like the relationships of the original the most, the comedy of the mcu version the most but this one was like a nice in between. Im a little disappointed there won’t be a third not cos I think I would have enjoyed it just cos the original had 3 movies, the mcu version will have at least 3 movies and this one is left out with 2. Don’t think I would have loved Shailene Woodley as MJ though so I dunno. I think the only thing I would have wanted from a third movie is to know who fedora guy is…and for Peter and May to acknowledge that they both know that he is Spider-Man. Apart from that it was fine and I now feel fully prepared for No Way Home.

[pocminiseries]

At Midnight|4

❤︎

"You've heard of the name Rodrigo before, yes?"

Nodding his head, Leo casually leaned back against the counter with his arms folded. "Yes,"

"Then I imagine you know how dangerous he is,"

"Depends on who you ask," Leo replies. Even before he stepped foot into Seattle, he has heard Rodrigo's name a few times through word of mouth. He was a known figure because of his ties with the Mexican Cartel.

Before Leo had decided to part ways with the life he once lived, Rodrigo along with his poor excuse of a son was amongst the list of names his counterparts wanted to be eliminated. In a way, Leo felt like all of this was an interesting play of events.

The one woman who managed to pique his interest happened to be engaged to the very son of someone he was ordered to kill.

Sitting on one of the bar stools, Imani found herself eyeing Leo's muscled back and the large colorful designed tattoo that graced the entirety of it, including parts of his arms. Its Asian themed influence sparked curiosity inside of her as her fingers itched to touch it but she was quick to remind herself that wouldn't be wise to act upon her urges.

"My father used to work for him back in the day as a dealer in the streets and he made a lot of money from it which is how he met my mother. His illegal activities provided them with a lavish lifestyle and it became addicting to the point that they went into debt with Rodrigo..." Imani explains, turning her glass filled with water in her hands.

"And when people are in debt with someone like him, it usually means death because he knew no matter how much people pleaded, they'd never be able to repay him what is owed...and that's where I come into all of this."

Licking her lips, Imani let out a deep breath as she shook her head. "Rodrigo told them that he'd let them live under one condition...that they would promise me to be his son's future wife. I was only three when they agreed to it. I've never had a say so in anything I've done Leo. I was raised to be the perfect spouse because of my parent's foolish ways and now I'm stuck,"

"So you've tried to run before?" He guessed out loud, glancing at Imani over his shoulder.

"Of course. I did when I was twenty-one when I had found out the truth about what they had done. I was so close but Jayden had found me hiding out at my aunts and Rodrigo decided to use them as an example...I still remember the look on my mothers face when she saw her sisters limbs hung throughout the tree in our front yard along with her husband and their children,"

Squeezing her eyes shut, Imai tried to push the unwanted memory away but no matter how much she tried, the image would always be at the back of her mind. "Rodrigo had promised if I ran again, he'd do worse to not only my parents but my siblings and their families too - but I shouldn't care. My own flesh and blood gave me up as a pawn and my brother and sister left me out to dry...and I'm the one who has to suffer just so they'll be safe..."

Just thinking about it made her angry. "It's the guilt that's making you stay isn't it?" It was easy for Leo to see what was holding her back because he understood. "They don't deserve your compassion Imani...no matter which way you look at it,"

"Maybe they don't but I have a three old niece now and knowing what Rodrigo is capable of scares me," Plus running would also have her life on the line. Seattle wasn't the only city the Torres controlled.

Turning around to face her, Leo looked her over, taking in her stressed state. The slight bags under her eyes, her bruised cheek, her damp hair hanging over her shoulders, and mix-matched attire showed him just how tired she must feel. It was a problem he wanted to fix.

"Is that why you were hoping your heart would give out before your wedding day?" Leo questions, immediately catching Imai's attention. "You haven't been taking your medicine as you should, hoping that it would speed up the process...am I right?"

Imani's eyes snapped towards Leo in surprise, a bit taking back at his words. "It's sad isn't it? To choose the easy way out but...I just want peace and I can never have that if I stay here," She confesses, sounding defeated.

"Is that what you want, a way out?"

"There isn't any so it doesn't matter," If she ran, her loved ones would surely die and the guilt from that alone would bring her to an early grave before her heart could, and if she stayed, she'd be miserable being married to someone as toxic as Jayden knowing she wouldn't last long. Either way, she looked at it, it was a lose, lose situation.

However, that couldn't be the furthest from the truth and Leo knew this.

"I can help but only if you allow me to," Leo softly offers, silently wishing she'd say yes. The moment she showed up on his doorstep was the moment Imani unknowingly became his top priority.

Whatever she needed...whatever she asked he would oblige.

Traveling around the world because of his old profession, Leo has seen his fair share of women. All shapes, sizes and ethnicities. The type of women that men would kill over just to call them their own. However, that night at the gala when his eyes landed on Imani made him believe that maybe there was a God because only he had the ability to create the type of beauty in front of him.

He was hers and she didn't even know it.

"No Leo. Me coming here is already bad enough. I can't put you in harm's way because of my reckless decisions. You even letting me come here is enough. I really appreciate it," Imani thanks him, grabbing ahold of his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. She watched as he looked at their hands before meeting her gaze, sending a shiver up her spine.

The way this man looks at her sets her body on fire. A sense of warmness flows from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. It was a feeling she's never experienced before.

Until him.

"No harm will ever come to you while you're with me...trust me," While Imani wasn't aware of who Leo is or what he was capable of, she had no clue how true his words were.

Imani softly smiled as she shook her head. "You don't understand Leo..." Imani mumbles, letting her words trail off while unknowingly squeezing his hand tighter. "When he finds me, I-..."

Leo carefully watched Imani visibly shake as thoughts of what Jayden would do once he found her ran rapt through her mind. Especially if he were to find her alone with another man. "I shouldn't have come here. It was stupid. Fuck was I thinking?!" She said to herself standing up, knowing she had to leave before her psychotic ass fiance came searching for her.

Leo was quick to pull her to a stop, gripping her hand to get her attention. "Don't be foolish Imani. You going back to him tonight will only make do much worse. You know this. Stay here tonight and you can leave in the morning,"

"Bu-"

"You'll be safe with me, I promise," Leo reassures her. Still seeing hesitancy in her eyes, he pulled her closer making sure to leave no room between them. Dropping her hand, he cupped her face, forcing her to look at him.

His brown eyes wandered over her face, admiring features he considerate nothing short of perfect. "I got you...alright?"

Imani could only nod as her arms found comfort around his toned waist. This moment reminded her so much of their encounter at the restaurant. The way he held her as she cried. How good it felt when he held her close making her feel safe even for a few seconds.

This man had the ability to easily soothe her soul that has been aching for so long that she knew this feeling was going to become addicting.

Needing to feel more of him, Imani's hands ran up his back and pulled him closer as she laid her head against his chest, breathing in his scent. She felt him place a kiss against her forehead before he held her tightly like he knew she needed, what she deserved.

Imani knew that tomorrow was going to be hell once she came face to face with Jayden. Before she had arrived at Leo's she had disabled her location on her phone but she just couldn't shake the feeling that he'd still find her. He always did.

But for now, she didn't want to think about it. All she wanted was to enjoy being held by a man she knew nothing about but who made her feel so much.

"Come on," Leo says after a few minutes, stepping back and grabbing ahold of her hand to lead Imani upstairs. Turning off the lights behind them, Leo walked up the steps with Imani following close behind. She was quiet and he knew her mind was probably thinking of every type of scenario possible but he was serious when he said that she'd be safe with him.

"I have two guest rooms," He states once they reach the top. "Choose whichever one you'd like,"

Imani eyed the two doors before shifting her gaze towards his opened bedroom door. She knew exactly where she wanted to lay her head tonight. "Your room," She answers hoping he wouldn't question her decision and thankfully he didn't.

As soon as Leo closed his bedroom door, Imani pulled off her sweats and slid underneath his cool sheets with Leo sliding in right behind her. Wrapping his arm around her waist, Leo pulled Imani close instantly feeling her relax against him as he placed a small kiss on her ear before whispering words that would come save her in her most desperate times.

"When you need me, come find me,"

[reflectionsofacreator]

Ezio’s a Painter

I somehow kinda glossed over this during my ac2 and Brotherhood play throughs, mostly because I kept meaning to make a larger post about it, then kept putting it off. I guess that’s now. This is probably old news to a lot of people, but I wanted to write a post on it anyways. 

This is a researched theory, not explicitly confirmed, either via verbal or textual evidence. That being said, there is a mountain of worldbuilding evidence, if you go digging and give some thought to it. 

So early on in ac2, when you’re introduced to Ezio’s family, Maria Auditore, you hear this gem of a conversation as they walk through the city: 

Maria: Self expression is vital to understanding and enjoying life. You should find an outlet. Ezio: I have plenty of outlets.  Maria (dryly): I meant besides vaginas.  Ezio: Mother! 

During the outing, she leads him to meet Leonardo da Vinci, a family friend and local artist. This is the first time Ezio’s met Leonardo, and when Leo asks what Ezio intends to do with his life, Ezio says something about being “A banker, I suppose”, like he doesn’t really know what to do with his life. 

It isn’t until after the trial and murder of his father and brothers that Ezio truly becomes friends with Leonardo, and receives upgrades. It’s implied to take a few days, and Ezio doesn’t exactly have anywhere to go, so it’s likely that he ended up staying over at Leonardo’s while all of this went down, or over at Paola’s. It’s likely that Ezio took an interest in painting because of Leonardo, though this is never outright said. 

Now, Ezio being a painter isn’t touched upon at all until you get access to the Auditore Villa in Monteriggioni, and even then it’s not exactly called attention to. At most, you get the ability to wander around, and see Ezio’s room. In one of the corners is a painting of Ezio’s first victims, Uberto Alberti, the man directly responsible for the Auditore’s murder. 

Notice how it says “my”. 

This is something that’s actually happened in Ezio’s life. The Animus can only take so many shortcuts with his life, but the important things tend to stick there, in some way, shape, or form. Rebuilding Monteriggioni was important to Ezio, so it was incorporated as an economic mechanic. Painting was important, so we have portraits of the people Ezio’s killed. 

As ac2 progresses, Ezio’s room slowly fills up with more and more with portraits of the people he’s slain, all listed with a date of death, their name, and who they are. A few of them have personal descriptions, always written in first person, versus how the Animus uses second person to denote things. 

The language choices aren’t precisely significant in an earth shattering way, but it’s important enough to note it. It’s part of why I feel like these portraits are actually made by Ezio himself, instead of simply being commissioned-- the simple fact of the use of “my, I” etc. 

If you go downstairs in the villa, you can see an artist easel, as well as painting supplies. I, initially, thought maybe it was supplies for Leonardo, but at that point in 1476-8, Leonardo wasn’t living with the Auditores in their Villa. But they’re clearly there for a reason, meaning that someone in the Villa used them. This is the kind of environmental storytelling that I really enjoy, where there’s depth that you can dig for, but it’s not exactly the forefront of things. 

Additionally, Ezio’s home is filled with an art gallery, with whole rooms and halls dedicated to the stuff. This is true for Brotherhood even, after the loss of Monteriggioni, but the art gallery in the Tiber Island Hideout is much smaller. 

What’s interesting in ac2 is that most of the paintings that Ezio owns relate back to the stories of the gods, or of Adam and Eve, which is ironic considering the nature of the Assassin’s Creed backstory. Or it could be simply really subtle forshadowing, though of what I’m not sure. 

All the paintings that Ezio owns in Brotherhood, that aren’t his, are works from Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino, better known as Raphael. I checked -- all of them are by Raphael, whereas the ones in ac2 were from an assortment of artists, Leonardo among them. It just strikes me as a little odd that every single painting in his Brotherhood era gallery is by Raphael, but who am I to judge. Ezio’s just missing a statue from Michelangelo, and he’d have scored a Renaissance Trifecta. 

Ezio’s habit of painting his victims continues on into Brotherhood, where his targets are the focus of much larger paintings. His works in ac2 are roughly 2 feet at most, while the works in Brotherhood take up at least a whole wall’s worth.  

Another thing to notice is that the portraits in Brotherhood instead have more of an artistic look about them. Compare how all the portraits in ac2 look like simply in game renders with filters, versus how this painting of Lucrezia looks. 

Stylistically, the portraits in Brotherhood clash horribly with Raphael’s paintings, but I suspect that’s due to the artists taking more freedom with how they want to portray Ezio’s art. It’s much more modern than the time period would suggest his painting would be, but we ignore that because they’re cool looking. 

Ezio had nine paintings in base ac2, with the dlc adding on an extra two paintings, and sixteen subjects between all of them. Brotherhood has six paintings, and six subjects. Of the two groups, only one person is painted twice: Rodrigo Borgia. 

They both fit into the same sets as they’re painted in, with the first matching the other severe paintings, but I kinda feel like that’s more an art direction choice than a choice of Ezio as a painter/character. Obviously more thought was put into the Brotherhood paintings, so they have more life to them, and more detail, but even then, Rodrigo’s portrait doesn’t exactly stand out among the set. It’s still interesting to see the differences between the two, and kinda wonder at what they say. 

I’ll admit that the timing for Rodrigo’s first portrait is kind of ... odd? The attack on Monteriggioni happens almost directly after Ezio’s confrontation with Rodrigo, so there isn’t that much time for him to paint the man. I do feel that’s more of an issue with the games being made several years apart-- the player should get Rodrigo’s portrait after Ezio beats him at the end of ac2, and Brotherhood wouldn’t come out for another year or two. 

I kinda posit that Ezio painted the first one over the course of years, slowly, probably in the timeskips between sequences 12/13/14, and it wasn’t until Ezio beat the man at the end of ac2 that he considered it “finished” and put it up.

Admittedly I’m thinking of doing a series of posts where it’s just the various portraits, just because I can, and I kinda want to show them off. Maybe. 

Anyways Ezio’s a painter and I’m not going back on this. Take it as you will. 

[packsbeforesnacks]

Dirt Off Your Shoulder || Blanche & Winn

[Part One | Part Two | Side B]

TIMING: Saturday, February 8th, 2020, Noon LOCATION: White Crest General Hospital PARTIES: @harlowhaunted​ & @packsbeforesnacks​ SUMMARY: Winn doesn’t die, c’mon, as if. Blanche, exasperated: MEN. WARNINGS: Medical blood, mentions of unhealthy coping mechanisms, potential self-harm.

Winn burst through the doors of the emergency room in the early dawn, shambling and groaning. Nurses were on him in seconds — typical, when a shirtless, shoeless man comes in, covered in blood, with a crossbow bolt sticking out of his shoulder. “It burns, get it out, please.” He fell to his knees, and a nurse’s hand jostled the bolt, causing Winn’s vision to go white and hot and please, please, please no, not like this. He felt himself being hauled up to his feet by firm, unwavering hands, but he knew he was slipping. The Hunter had gotten him good, probably to the bone. Not that Winn would ever find out, if they didn’t get it out of him quickly. The silver sizzled inside of him, and, oh, the lights were brighter now? He dimly felt a hand fiddle in his pants, looking for a wallet, but, fuck, Winn had forgotten it. Here lies, John Doe. A bubble of laughter slipped out of his mouth at the thought. Winn tried to open his eyes, tried to get them to focus, and saw the face of a man, lips pursed in obvious concentration as he assessed the wound. Had that much time passed? Fuck.

“Get him to Surgical Suite A,” the man said, “and get me Rodrigo and Aaron.”

“Yes, Dr. Harlow,” said one of the nurse’s, Winn thought, hoped. But. Wait. Harlow?

“Hey,” he gasped out, tugging on the sleeve of the good doctor as he started to turn away. “Tell Blanche I’m sorry, okay?” He coughed. “Adrien… too…”

That was the last thing that Winn remembered.

“Winn Woods?” Blanche repeated to the nurse looking at her like she had five heads. Blanche remembered her, she had been there when she brought Alain the other night. When she burst into the emergency room half in tears saying she needed help bringing someone in with a head injury. And here she was, again, this time looking for someone else. Adrien texting her asking how the hell she knew his hockey coach and accusing her of making her mother cry had not been great. “What room is he in?” And now she wandered the hospital in search of his room number, head down, hood up, and AirPods in. Her concern for Winn was the only reason she was subjecting herself to GhostVille, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she finally found the right room without having to talk to someone’s Great Aunt Sally.

“Winn?” Blanche poked her head in, relieved a circulating nurse wasn’t here. The one at the desk probably already texted her mother that she was here. Definitely wanted to avoid all forms of family while she was here. She brightened, though, when she saw him in bed. She found him!

Oh, wait, he was injured.

“Winn! Jesus Christ! What happened?”

Winn had woken up, which was a good first step to not being dead, he figured. Dawn had shaken off its frigid dew, burning into a spectacular morning, if the light streaming in through the window was any indication. He took a deep breath, noting the slowly subsiding throbbing in his shoulder — where he’d been shot, he was remembering — and tried to figure out how he’d ended up here. Most of the events after the Hunter — ‘cause it had to be a Hunter, right? who else would be out that early? — had put a bolt in him were blurry, elastic. He remembered finding the tree where he’d tied a pair of pants, bolting to the hospital as fast as his four legs could carry him, not really giving a shit who saw him. Changing back in the bushes, the way the silver lit up his nerves, and then… nothing. Huh. Problematic.

‘Course, more problematic still was Blanche Harlow showing up to his hospital room and— Oh, fuck, had her father operated on Winn? She asked him what happened, and Winn considered his options. He liked Blanche — trusted her way, way more than Noah, and he had found out Winn was a wolf (stellar week for Winn, really). Telling humans wasn’t always a mistake (hell, Winn had ended up a werewolf because some folks had trusted him) and Blanche seemed like the type to know when to keep her mouth shut. (Maybe to her detriment, but Winn couldn’t say much ‘bout that.)

“Close the door, Blanche,” he settled on, voice as even as possible. He paused, before adding, “Please.”

It was then that Blanche remembered his cryptic email from earlier in the week — he knew some secret about her and it had made her anxious enough to ignore his subsequent emails, and then he ignored her text and left her on read, which made her ignore his email about skipping class again. Not that that mattered, because he didn’t look too good. If her dad had seen him that meant it had been really bad. Blanche frowned at him but shut the door anyway — she glanced down the hallways to make sure Dr. Harlow or a visit from Nurse Harlow weren’t in the works. She turned and went to sit in the chair by his bed.

“How are you feeling? Are you feeling alright?”

Winn took a deep breath. “Blanche, do you trust me?”

Blanche stared at him, alarmed. “I— I mean—” Trust him. Sure. But she also kind of thought he was sort of an idiot and wasn’t expecting a question like that. “Of course I do. Why aren’t you answering my questions? Are you high—you told them you smoke, right?” Blanche clamped her mouth shut before she could get going on her anxious tirade of questions.

“‘S okay if you don’t. Trust me, I mean. You, er, might not, here in a minute. You wanna sit down? Wait. ‘Course. You’re sitting already,” he babbled, trying to calm his nerves. Winn had come out to folks all his life, but nothin’ was quite like the frenetic anxiety of tellin’ someone that you turned into a big wolf-creature once a month (... or so). And unlike when he’d told Noah — been, some might say, called out on his shit — Winn didn’t only have to nod his head to give an answer. No, he had to come clean.

Was this what it was like havin’ more than just wolves for friends? It’d been a while since he’d had either.

Another deep breath. “Alright, so. Sorry. Just… a lot. Uh, I’ll answer your actual questions, first. I’m feeling better, since your dad got the fuckin’ crossbow bolt out of me, but for a minute I thought I might be a goner — not tryin’ to scare you, just the way it is —  and, uh, I mean, I haven’t… spoken to anyone? Just woke up a few minutes before you got in here. So, no, they don’t know I smoke yet, but ‘m also not high.” He snorted.

Blanche went from confusion, to more confusion, to wondering if she should call a nurse when her mind registered the words crossbow bolt. “You got shot?!” Her voice rose a few octaves, eyes bugging out of her head as she leaned forward on the edge of her seat. “Who?! What?! When?! Were you drinking?! I’ll kill them! What?!”

“Damn it, Blanche, calm down for a sec, I was gettin’ to that.” Winn sighed. “Sorry, I ‘ppreciate the concern, really, but, even if he’s a shit dad, your dad is a halfway decent doc. I’m fine.” A pause, as he studied the younger woman. If Winn wasn’t an only child, he got the feeling that, given his reputation as the Golden Boy of the Zhou-Delacour family, that his younger siblin’ might’ve been like Blanche. Bit of a spitfire, a little too “leap before they look.” Ready to literally kill for their friends, ‘pparently.

“I don’t know who. I already told you what—crossbow bolt, to my shoulder”—he gestured at the gauze packed into his healing wound—“and this mornin’ before I, uh… changed… back.” He let that particular revelation, vague as it was, hang in the air. “And, yeah, I drank a bit yesterday. Might’ve been a bit of an amateur about the aftermath, if ‘m bein’ honest.”

She shot him a look. The look that said she was not happy and also, she hoped, said that you couldn’t just tell someone to calm down after saying you got shot. Blanche opened her mouth to tell him just that, but the mention of her father made the words catch in her throat, a mixture of conflicting emotions on her face. She crossed her arms over her chest, listening, nodding along with his story until… “Wait— back up. You’re doing this well and you were shot this morning?” Blanche said, brows furrowing. “What do you mean changed back? What— Winn! Stop telling the story in parts! I keep getting confused! What’s going on!”

Winn groaned. “Alright, but, promise to just stick with me until I finish talkin’? No runnin’ out of the room. Pinky swear?” He held out his pinky, dead serious.

She made a face at him in disbelief. Now she was imagining the worst — drunk, frat boy shenanigans. Still, she wrapped her pinky around his. “Pinky swear,” Blanche said. “No running. Just tell me what happened.”

“So, I’m a werewolf—” Winn started, or tried to.

“You’re a fucking what?” Blanche immediately blurted out, jaw dropping.

“—and I—” Winn paused, looked Blanche dead in the eyes, and said, “I just asked you to stick with me until I finished talkin’. Whatever happened to ‘Yes and?,’ huh?” He smiled as best he could, given the coil of dread in his gut. “Alright, so, the short version — ‘cause not everythin’ is relevant to how I ended up here — of that story is that there’s a fraternity — shut up — of werewolves down South, and I rushed that fraternity, and I got turned into a werewolf partly because I’m really good at—” He cut himself off.

“Anyway,” he continued. “Some shit went down, I went to Europe for a while, I came back to the States, got some killer”—oops—“therapy, and decided that I wanted to become a counselor.” He’d tell her about Dorian, eventually. About Conner. About Jules. About the worst day of his life. “And I— Uh, I know I said that I would just tell this front-to-back, but y’sound a little like a tea kettle, B. Need a sec?”

Professor Hideki Okamoto had told her he turned into a fox a little after she accused him of being a murderer. Blanche had almost gotten sick then, but maybe that was only because of the dangerous fire trick he pulled… Though judging from the way her stomach tied itself up into a knot and the high-pitched distressed sound that was coming out of her as she sank low in her seat… “Nope,” she wheezed. “Keep going.” This was fine. Blanche knew werewolves existed! It wasn’t the weirdest thing in the world! But maybe it was a combination of the fact that Winn just got shot. “Wait— No.” Blanche held out a hand to stop him. She was about to slide right out of her seat and onto the floor if she kept doing that. Breathe. Get your shit together. She rushed a Hunter with a fucking sword in his hand two days ago! Some news about her friend wasn’t going to get her.

“Was it a Hunter?” Blanche asked, forcing herself to sit back up straight… and lowering her voice so she sounded halfway normal. It wasn’t working. “Oh my god. A Hunter went after you? Does he know you’re you?! Did he see you shift back? Where was this? Who was it? Did you see them?” She was on her feet now, her nervous energy better used as pacing. “Oh my God, I’ll have to get her—” Nell. “—to make you a magic blur bracelet too! Why do they always go after my friends? This sucks! I’ll kill him!”

Winn’s head buzzed, though he guessed he was partly to blame for that—Christ, had he really gone through a 24-pack yesterday? And smoked a bowl? And done some shots? Unhealthy coping mechanisms out the wazoo, he had. Then again, it wasn’t… strictly his fault that his world had gotten flipped on its head. The sheer magnitude of all of that hadn’t left him even if a crossbow bolt had knocked some sense back into him.

“We… are going to talk about all of what you just said later. Because, like, I’ll be honest, I’ve had a real shitty forty-eight hours, and I had no clue that you knew about any of that shit. Though, that, well. That explains the lack of faintin’.” He pursed his lips, humming a low note in the back of his throat. There was a cup of water on his bedside table he hadn’t noticed before, and he gulped it down greedily. Oh God. More of that. Please.

“You’re makin’ my head hurt more with that pacin’, B. Jus’ lemme finish, alright. Deep breaths. I’m here now. I’m alright. I’ve been a werewolf for longer than you’ve known I was a werewolf, and one measly crossbow bolt ain’t gonna take me out”—granted, it almost had—“that easy.”

“But—but—but that doesn’t even make sense!” Blanche burst, looking at him exasperated. “You got shot. By a crossbow!” As if he needed reminding. She let out a small groan though and practically threw herself back into her seat, pulling her knees up to her chest as she stared at him. She would mention, later, that she’d only been on the full train ride to all things Supernatural Fuckery for a few months, but now was a bad time to talk about that. Apparently. She took a deep breath to appease him. “Alright, alright. Continue.”

“So,” Winn started again, hopefully for the last time. He licked his lips. “So, I’m a werewolf, sure. But, apparently, none of my packmates figured I needed to know that wolves weren’t the only things hidin’ in the dark?

“So, Thursday night, I’m tryin’ to figure out why the Arena’s lights are fuckin’ up, and I go back to the electrical room and it’s just covered in ice. Somethin’ whips my phone outta my hand — sorry if you’ve tried to message me since then, by the way, forgot to tell ya for reasons that’ll become clear — and I end up fighting a fuckin’ Zamboni — don’t you dare fuckin’ laugh — with this older guy? An exorcist, I guess? Because ghosts are a real thing now?

“And I’m a pretty good guy, and I can compartmentalize, and it’s all fine, ‘s all good. I turn into a wolf every full moon, ghosts aren’t that big of a stretch. But then I go to this frat party, and I run into a Hunter because of fucking ‘course I do, but we’ve got bigger problems, because a monster tries to suck the fucking bones out of some undergrads. And at that point it occurs to me, y’know, what the fuck. How did I not know any of this shit?

“I get home, I throw myself into my bed, I message Remmy and Ricky to apologize for tellin’ them the chest on the beach isn’t cursed — because what the fuck do I know — and I pass out. And I wake up, and I skip class, and I down, just, copious amounts of booze and smoke pot to cope, because, as I’ll remind you, I had thought werewolves were the only fuckin’ thing around.

“Then, Remmy gets back to me, and mentions folks being able to do magic. And Ricky is a little shit and tells me ‘No duh, the fucking chest is cursed. We tried to tell you!’ And M—”—wait, no—“this other wolf I know, he tells me ‘I don’t know why you’re surprised? Did you not know? There are hundreds of creatures out there!’ and I’m like ‘Are you fuckin’ kidding me.’ So, I drink some more, I smoke some more, and it’s the fucking full moon of all fuckin’ nights.

“I turn, everything is just fine, I am in a part of the woods that I think no one will come out to, but I guess I’m an idiot, and I wandered too close to some asshole Hunter’s territory, so I get a shoulder full of silver bolt and they give chase and, not to scare ya B, but I only got away because I was lucky—or maybe the Hunter was just dumb. Either way, I find my jeans, put ‘em in my maw, and run to the hospital as fast as three-and-a-half limbs can get me. I cried in a bush. It was fine.

“And, uh, yeah, so, I was, y’know, a little bit of an idiot. And now I have a headache. But your dad got the silver out, miracle of miracles, so my arm’s… almost good? I think? It’ll take a little longer to tell.” He stops, giving her some time to let all of that sink in. “So, um, moral to the story, never shift while crossfaded?”

She had so many questions. So many. Blanche stared at him for a long time after he finished speaking. Too long, really. Her mouth hung open slightly, disbelief clouding her features. Maybe it was that she couldn’t believe Winn went to a frat party and fought a monster with bone sucking abilities with a Hunter. Or maybe she wanted to throttle him for being really fucking stupid.

Both. Definitely both.

“I—” she started, and then had to stop. “You—” Nope. “But—” She took another long moment of silence to formulate exactly what she wanted to say. “You fucking moron!” Blanche finally burst, running her hands down her face. “I’m not even a werewolf and I know that! Don’t get crossfaded and do anything other than prepare for the incoming hangover!” Like that ever happened in real life. “Okay, okay, not important. Where was the Hunter’s territory because I’m going to walk my happy ass over there and shove my foot so far down his throat that he’s going to wish I shot him with a crossbow!” Blanche leaned forward on the seat again, staring at him hard for a moment, and considered.

“Iseeghosts,” she blurted out. “There, we’re even.”

Winn blinked.  Shesawwhatnow?

“I—” he started, and then had to stop. “You—” Nah. “Wha—” There was a knock at the door, and Winn froze, looking to Blanche for some indication of what the fuck he was supposed to do? “Blanche,” he whispered. “I need you to distract whoever comes through that door. If they check under this gauze, they are going to be pretty fucking confused, and I am going to be, how the kids say, fucked.”

“What do you mean?!” Blanche hissed, her brow furrowing as she stood slightly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to—Dad?!” Jean had let himself in, freezing at the sight of his daughter in the chair next to Winn’s bed. She immediately stood up, body tensing. She hadn’t seen her dad since that night in the gas station and she was not prepared. Knots of anxiety twisted in her and her palms began to get clammy and she felt like she was going to throw up.

“Blanche,” Jean said, stiffly.

“Uh—” She had backed over to the other side of the room while he moved over towards Winn.

“Mr. Woods, I’m glad to see you’re awake. I hope… your friend hasn’t been riling you up. I just want to check your shoulder, and I’ll be on my way to rounds—” Medical jargon started coming from him and Blanche watched in horror as he got closer and closer to Winn. Do something you moron! He trusts you to help!

Crap. What could she say to distract her father? What was mortifying enough to make him turn around and pay attention to her instead of Winn? Blanche thought hard, and of course picked the first thing that came to her head.

“Uh— I’m going on a date with a frat boy and having sex with him in a cave!” she blurted out. Jean, who was normally a very stoic and serious man, turned 40 different shades of red in about .2 seconds and whirled around to face his daughter.

“Excuse me?”

Blanche had her back pressed against the back wall, eyes wide as she tried to read whatever emotion that was on her father’s face. This was going poorly.

“Yup! So much cave sex! Lots of it. And I’m not even on the pill! And he’s probably too stupid to bring condoms! Whatever will we do? Oh yeah! Have sex! In a cave!”

Winn glanced around the hospital room for something that he could use to—well, to open his wound back up. Fuck, this was going to hurt. He looked back to his bedside table. Glass, no. Too loud, Dr. Harlow would notice glass shattering. Paper? No, paper cuts didn’t require trips to the emergency rooms. There was nothing. Except. He looked down at his hands. Fuck. Just then, Blanche started yelling about “cave sex,” causing Dr. Harlow to turn around.

Shit. Okay, now or never. Never let it be said that Winn didn’t do anything for the werewolf community. This was probably extremely gross, but Winn didn’t have time to think about that — his immune system would block anything bad, right? He tore the gauze away from his shoulder carefully, but quickly, clenched his teeth, and jammed his thumb into the closing wound, and yanked up, hoping he could approximate the damage that had been done to him.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. He couldn’t stop a small gasp from coming out as he reopened it. Ow. He looked to Blanche’s face as she stared at him past her father, silently mouthing “sorry,” and pushing the gauze back town, taping himself back up as best he could. He wiped his thumb, bloody as it was, on his upper leg, underneath the hospital gown, and blinked away the tears welling up in his eyes.

Wait, did she say date with a frat boy?

“Blanche Louisa Harlow, how dare you disrupt a patient’s—”

“Yeah, Dad, whatever! We’re going to go into the cave and have holy motherfucking hell—” Guess when Winn decided to reopen his wound. “Sex,” Blanche finished, lamely. “Without protection.” Did Winn just fucking do that?

Jean looked fifty shades of angry, and Blanche sort of wanted to go die in a hole. She just said the words ‘cave’ and ‘sex’ consecutively and also implied a strong chance of pregnancy. Great. Awesome. Loved that for her. Anxiety was twisting her insides inside out and now she definitely knew she was going to be sick at some point that day. God, she was going to fucking kill Winn.

“And also, Winn was just saying how he wants to be discharged against medical advice!” Blanche hissed, shooting him a glare.

Jean made a face. “What?” His head turned towards Winn. “What?” he repeated, still confused.

“I—” Winn wanted to kick himself. He could’ve spent that time thinking of a better cover story instead of stabbing himself with his thumb. “Yes, I’m a, uh—” Quick, Winner, think of a religion that refused medical treatment. “Scientologist?” he tried. “Clearly, I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t have no other choice. Clearly. And while I thank thee”—alright—“Good Doctor, it is time I take my leave of this place, lest my, um, soul not go to the great beyond and join with the Motherland.” Shit, dumbass, he didn’t know anything about Scientology. Other than Tom Cruise. Wait. “Tom Cruise would be very disappointed in me.” … Wait, no.

He smiled weakly at Dr. Harlow. “If I could just get some fresh gauze before I go, I’ll, uh, yep. Be… on my way.”

Was Winn talking about Tom Cruise?! NO! Blanche ran her hands down her face, exasperated as Jean stared at him like he had four heads. “Scientologists usually have cards—” The tiny card in their wallets with their identification. Blanche coughed loudly.

“He’s new at it, really—can’t you just get a nurse to redress his wound and grab the AMA paperwork so we can go?” Ah, so they were a ‘we’ now. Blanche realized the second she said discharge that it meant she was the ride home. That was fine, she just hadn’t been expecting it. Jean, clearly exasperated and angry, looked between the two one more time, before shaking his head. He moved and went to redress the wound himself.

It was painfully quiet for the three minutes it took him to do so. Painfully quiet. Blanche wanted to melt into the floor. “The nurse will be in with the paperwork shortly,” he said flatly. Jean moved towards the door, before turning towards Blanche. “We will discuss this later.”

Blanche was always quick to anger, but her expression turned stony as she stared back at her father, and she sneered. “No, we won’t. Get out,” she snapped. And he did. Letting out a slow breath, she turned towards Winn, waiting a few seconds. “... What the HELL was that?!”

“... I panicked?” Winn said, honestly. “Look, I just forgot that the Jehovah’s Witnesses—fuck, I could’ve said I was a Jehovah’s Witness—existed, or that people refused medical treatment. I’ve never not wanted to get proper treatment!” He tried for a joke, a half-truth. “Glad I didn’t have my wallet on me when I rolled in here, otherwise I think your dad might’a thought we were lyin’ or somethin’. Little cards, who knew?”

He winced as he rolled his shoulder, trying to get his body to get with the program. Damn it, he’d been asleep for most of the healing earlier, but now he’d have to actually deal with it. “But, uh, thanks for the… um, cave sex cover story? Don’t know where you came up with that one, B, but you really saved my bacon.”

The nurse came in, squinting at Winn as he handed him a clipboard and a pen. Great. He was definitely a hospital cautionary tale now. He went to leave as quickly as he had come, though, with only the vague assertion that they could use a wheelchair, being as Winn didn’t have any shoes. Which… fair.

“Can I keep the gown? I, uh… didn’t have a shirt either?” The nurse didn’t look very impressed, but nodded shortly, before shutting the door behind him.

“I knew about the cards!” Blanche hissed, but that was probably only because she had heard her parents bitch about them too many times whenever they were home. Still she stood in the corner as Winn got situated in his wheelchair, wondering how on earth she was not only going to explain how exactly she had come up with her cave sex story—thank you Regan—to Winn, but also how she was going to keep Winn from getting another crossbow bolt into his head.

The nurses would have a cow. Not only had he had major surgery, but he was leaving not long after he officially woke up. Blanche had her tonsils out when she was like 14 and that definitely wasn’t how this was supposed to work. Though, she didn’t imagine she was going to be shoveling excessive amounts of ice cream into Winn’s mouth. If anything, he was going to give her ice cream.

“For the record,” she grumbled when they were finally cut loose. “I’m not having sex in a cave—we’re going on a hike! A regular hike! And I hate you.” She stewed. “Okay, no I don’t, I’m going to kick someone’s ass for you but oh my god, Tom Cruise is going to be disappointed in me?! Winn!”

Winn shrugged, sheepish, and dodged the less-than-salient (or, less favorably, boneheaded) points. “Like I said, though, I don’t know the Hunter who shot me. You’ve got no one’s ass to kick.” It was a bit odd, how easily he fell into the assumption that Blanche knew a.) more than he did about the supernatural, but b.) that he knew far more about protecting himself from Hunters than she did or could.

“So, uh, I know that I just got crossfaded to my immediate detriment yesterday, but, um, d’you wanna get high? Because I feel like both of us need a come down. A vent sesh.” Oh! Speaking of which. “So, wait. This means you didn’t know I was a werewolf? I thought you’d figured it out!” And then he’d told her anyway, and the world hadn’t ended, so, really, he was at fault here. In his defense, it had been a rough week. One that looked like, thankfully, it would end on a high note.

“Oh, trust me, I have a few ideas on whose ass to kick,” Blanche muttered, a certain French hunter coming to mind. Well, two French hunters coming to mind. Except only one of them had admitted to hunting beasts. Of course, it couldn’t be Kaden’s fault, the coincidence would be too strong. She shook her head. “Whatever, I’m just glad you’re okay. Adrien scared the shit out of me, you know.” Blanche looked at him and stared at him. She thought about the week she had. Her nasty panic attack, the whole Alain situation, Kaden’s stupid fucking ghost, and the mistakes she made with Regan and Remmy, and considered.

“No, I actually didn’t know you were a werewolf. How the hell did you think I figured that out!” she said, frowning. “Yes, I’d like to get high,” she confirmed, digging in her pockets for her keys. “Desperately.”

[psifitopia]

help wanted

I really need to get a beta.  LOL   Would anyone be willing to give me concrit on this conversation, please?   Mac and Murdoc are in prison together in El Salvador and have decided to call a truce/watch each other’s backs.   Mac has gotten in trouble and Murdoc, who has a broken leg, is keeping him company.   Endgame of the story is consensual macdoc.   Murdoc seems a bit...too honest?  idek

Thank you for any help!  :D  

MacGyver leaned against the pole he was chained to.  The guards had placed him in a far corner of the camp, that was used for punishing prisoners.  His hands were chained in front of him and his ankles were chained closely together.  He could both sit and lay down, though not very comfortably.  There wasn't enough chain for him to stand up straight.  

MacGyver tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore his thirst and hunger.  He'd been given a cupful of water last night, but no food.   He had been given another cupful of water an hour ago.  

"You look miserable," Murdoc commented, startling MacGyver out of his thoughts.  

"I've had better days," MacGyver agreed wearily.

Murdoc set a tray down near him, smiling.

"Here.  This should help.  I convinced the servers to give me Rodrigo's breakfast."

"I was told Rodrigo's in the infirmary.  Won't they feed him there?"

"Probably, but no one cares.  Go on, Angus.  Eat."

"Thanks," MacGyver said, obeying.  

[They sat for a bit in silence, as MacGyver ate.  He wasn't sure, if he should be surprised or not, that Murdoc stayed.  They'd spent the past two weeks working and eating together.  They'd talked, but mostly only to share information and to find things to argue about.  Looking back, MacGyver was grateful for even that much.  Challenging Murdoc's twisted thinking had provided much-needed mental stimulation.]  Ignore?  Probably going to change

"Why did Helman take you with him, when he escaped the black site?"

"He planned to kill me, once we were clear.  He didn't want to do it there, since the guards would have tightened his security, after.  I managed to get away, though."  

"Ironic.  We put him in there to give you something to focus on, other than making escape plans."  

"I thought it was punishment."

"Well, we were pretty pissed off.  No matter where we put you, you get people killed."  

"Brilliant as you are, you're not very good at sociopath management, Angus."

"Oh?  Got any tips for me?" MacGyver asked, feeling surprisingly amused.  

"We're attention whores," Murdoc claimed, shrugging.  "I didn't plan on escaping, when I turned myself in.  You ignored me.  My best intentions didn't extend to being essentially buried alive."  

"So, if I had visited you and gotten help from you, you would have stayed put?" MacGyver scoffed.  

"Maybe.  You and I are alike, MacGyver.  We need our minds stimulated to survive."

"What about Cassian?  Did you plan on taking him on the run again?"

"No, not at all.  I thought I would find a way to pay him regular visits.  I hadn't figure out how, yet, of course."  

[im-fairly-whitty]

Whatever It Takes: Coco Villain!au

[Part 1: Trapped] [Part 2: Broken] [Part 3: Determined] [Part 4: Suspicion]

[Part 5: Decision] [Part 6: Bad History] [Part 7: Breaking Point]

[Part 8: Locked Door] [Part 9: Resolution]  [Part 10: The Key]

Part 11: The Edge

Enrique had to escape.

He had to find Miguel.

He had to.

Things he desperately told himself as he lay face down at the bottom of the cenote Victoria had shoved him into. He’d landed in the water rather than on the jagged rocks, but the effort it had taken to drag himself back onto dry ground while still bound had sapped every bit of his remaining energy.

He should get up and search for a way out. He should be prying off the loosening bindings. He should be on a ferry right now, sailing away from this madness with his son, getting them both far far away from this nightmare.

And instead here he was, softly crying to himself as he lay on the ground, every bit of him begging to be allowed to pass out, all of his remaining will being used just to stay conscious.

Why?

He didn’t even know anymore.

This had to be Hell. It had to be. He’d died and gone straight to damnation.

He groaned as he rolled onto his side, aching from sheer overwhelming fatigue. The pain in his chest was suffocating, the agony of his recent heart attack weighing him down. Why had he died, why couldn’t he be home with Luisa right now, holding her close, blissfully unaware of what had ever happened to their son, or of the monsters within their own family tree.

Enrique took a deep breath, allowing himself to feel every ounce of pain and fear and regret and anger for a long minute. And then he steeled himself, forcing those feelings to take a back seat, forcing open a cleared space in his mind, however small, for him to think.

Yes, he wanted to die again. Yes, he wanted to close his eyes and never move again. But he was still a father and his son still needed him. What he wanted didn’t matter as long as Héctor and Victoria still had Miguel.

He stared at the cavern walls, his view sideways from laying on the ground. He still needed a plan, and he didn't have to move for that much at least. There was still the ferry, there was still Iria, a safe haven, but that wasn’t going to be enough anymore.

Miguel’s confession, the story of how he’d been murdered by Héctor to “protect the family” was a horrifying one, and it spoke volumes about who Héctor really was. If he was a man who could kill his own grandson without hesitation, then who knew what other atrocities he’d committed, in his life or afterlife. 

Ruy’s broken down state made sense, Victoria’s psychosis made sense, Mamá Coco’s caginess made sense, even the overly committed family culture he’d grown up with (family always comes first, Riveras always protect Riveras, whatever it takes) made too much sense now, having been passed down from that monster. A man who would kill to protect the empire he’d built up under himself.

Just how much blood was the family built on? How many bodies had been left behind by Héctor and Imelda? How many more were to come?

If-, no, when, Enrique got out of here he wasn’t going to run to Iria’s. Miguel’s safety wasn’t enough anymore, everyone in this family had to be saved. Ruy for one, any other victims for another, but also Luisa and Socorro and everyone he loved who would eventually come here too. Enrique had to do whatever he could to tear down this beartrap of a regime that Héctor had built if anyone was going to be truly safe.

The family reputation, the family wealth. That’s what Héctor would have been trying to protect when he murdered Miguel. Enrique couldn’t care less, none of that mattered when family was at stake. Sebastian had been right, this wasn’t a time for dramatic escapes, this was a job for the police.

Enrique couldn’t rest until Héctor, and Imelda, and Victoria, and anyone else involved in this mess was locked up. For good.

If only he could manage to stand.

He shifted slightly as he heard footsteps far above him, the sound of boots echoing on the walls around him.

“Hello?” he called.

There was no response, only a clattering sound as a rope ladder dropped over the edge, the bottom rung swinging only yards from his face.

It began to sway and shake as someone from above started climbing down.

***

“He’s been beating up on Ruy his whole life, I mean you never see it in the papers or anything, but the whole family’s a wreck, they’re all completely insane!”

“Sebastian, I’m going to have to remind you to let us do the talking,” Officer Chloe Francés said as her police squad climbed the steps of the Rivera family mansion, “we are here to gather information on Rodrigo Rivera’s disappearance, bringing you is already discouraged by regulation, you need to keep silent while we work.”

The nineteen-year-old looked like he wanted to argue, but shut his mouth tightly, pulling the brim of his cap forward as they neared the mansion entrance. He was a good kid. Rodrigo Rivera party noise complaints were so frequent that the station had a rotation chart tacked to the wall to track whose turn it was to go shut it down, which usually meant having a talk with Sebastian. He was well-liked in the department for being level-headed and apologetic.

But tonight was different.

Sebastian had burst into the station over an hour ago with a ludicrous story of Tio Héctor Rivera being a psychotic murderer, of a kidnapping and a failed attempt to leave town. 

It had taken nearly twenty minutes for officers to calm him down enough to pull the story out of him even half-coherently, another twenty minutes to determine that he wasn’t completely high or drunk, and then another twenty to dispatch an officer to Rodrigo Rivera’s residence to verify that he was indeed missing.

Officer Francés had always liked Tio Héctor, he seemed like a good man and a builder of the community. Having worked on a case that was close to his granddaughter Victoria, she’d seen him up close too. She’d even been to a few of his performances, one before she’d died, and a couple of his Sunrise Spectaculars too. Good musician, good man.

But she’d also been a police officer long enough to know that appearances could be deceiving.

“Sebastian, you hang back here with the other officers, I’ll call you up if I need you, claro?” Officer Francés said, waving for her second in command to follow her.

“Do you really think Rivera’s off his rocker?” her second-in-command asked once they were out of earshot.

“I have no idea.” Officer Francés said, shaking her head as they approached the door together, “It’s a lot to swallow, and there’s no previous police record on any of the Riveras other than Rodrigo for his parties. And this is even assuming we can speak with Señor y Señora Rivera at all, we’ll probably be waiting in a parlor for the next two hours while someone tracks them down to-”

She cut off as the door slammed open in front of them, two figures rushing out and then pulling abruptly to a stop before Officer Francés was even close enough to knock.

There stood Héctor and Imelda Rivera themselves, both looking unusually ragged and worn down for celebrities, and completely taken aback at finding two police officers waiting for them on their front porch.

This was already more interesting than Officer Francés had thought.

“What are you doing on our property?” Señor Rivera asked, stepping in front of his wife...protectively? “Why are you here?”

“Señor y Señora Rivera,” Officer Francés said, pulling on her best calming smile and quietly noting the way Señora Rivera gripped her husband’s elbow until he took a step back, as if commanding him to stand down. “a missing person’s report has been filed on your son, Rodrigo Rivera, we’re here to ask if you have any information on where he might be.”

“We...” Señor Rivera’s voice trailed off, his hands tightening into fists.

“Mi amor, we need...we need to come clean.” Señora Rivera said quietly, looking like she was wiping tears away with one hand while taking his arm more gently with the other.

“Imelda, we can’t-”

“Héctor, it’s over, we can’t do this anymore.” Señora Rivera said, cutting off her husband as a tear ran down her face, taking Officer Francés off guard.

“Señora?” Officer Francés said, a prickling feeling going down her spine.

“Officer, our son is inside,” Señora Rivera said, motioning towards the door behind them. “he arrived over an hour ago and is terribly hurt. This evening has been a nightmare. Our great-grandson Enrique died yesterday and is severely confused, he kidnapped our great-great-grandson Miguel, he’s the one that who died years ago when he was cursed, I assume you’ve heard of him?”

“I’m familiar with the story.” Officer Francés said, everyone knew about Miguel Rivera, the living boy that had been waylaid by an antagonist of the family so long he’d died.

“We’ve cared for him ever since the accident, he’s not mentally stable,” Señora Rivera said, “but when Enrique arrived yesterday he kidnapped Miguel and we’ve been looking for him. We thought we could recover them both quickly so we didn’t get the police involved. As you might imagine, these kinds of things have a tendency to...go public around families like ours.” Señora Rivera said, grimacing and looking suspiciously at the group behind them.

“Those are my officers.” Officer Francés assured her, taking down notes as quickly as she could in her notebook. Everything they’d said so far already correlated with Seba’s story, but it would be better to look busy, “Not a word of this will reach the press Señora, you have my word, but how does this relate to Rodrigo?”

“We didn’t find Miguel until we realized that Rodrigo had been helping Enrique.” Señor Rivera said, “He’s always been...the black sheep of the family, difficult to deal with. I confronted him at his home and we had a fight, I got worked up over Miguel’s safety and I struck him. He came here to speak with his mother afterward while I went to keep looking for Enrique before he left town with Miguel. Miguel is a very fragile child, he’s not able to handle this kind of trauma.”

“And then-” Señora Rivera cut off, wrestling with a sob that seemed to be caught in her throat, “then-”

“Officer Francés, we have a granddaughter, Victoria Rivera.” Señor Rivera said, looking more emotionally wrung out than anyone Officer Francés had ever seen as he held his crying wife, “She was murdered several years ago and has been incredibly unstable ever since. 

“We’ve tried to keep her out of an asylum and here at home with us but it was a mistake. Enrique kidnapping Miguel has, triggered her. She’s completely snapped, she’s out of control. She’s tortured our son without our knowledge to find Miguel and Enrique. That’s why Rodrigo is here and why he’s terribly injured and now we don’t know where Victoria is, she brought Miguel back to us but now we’re afraid she’s gone back after Enrique with intentions of violence.”

“Por favor, you have to help us find her!” Señora Rivera cried, holding a handkerchief to her face as her voice approached hysterical, “She’s a monster, she needs to be locked up, she’s hurt my child. You have to find her before she harms anyone else!”

Sebastian had said nothing about Victoria. But it made too much sense.

Officer Francés was all too familiar with the girl’s case. She had been on the team assigned to locate her murderer after he disappeared shortly after his death. The court systems in the Land of the Dead didn’t deal with crimes committed in life, but that didn’t mean they didn't keep a close eye on those known to be truly sadistic. Victoria’s murderer had checked all the boxes of someone that would be good to keep very close watch over and they’d been ready for him.

And then only a day after he arrived, he disappeared. Diving into the shadowy underworld of the afterlife before she and her officers were able to stop him, losing him forever.

But Officer Francés had seen the files, knew exactly what had happened to Victoria, and knew that the poor girl was completely unhinged. Exactly the kind of unhinged that could turn under pressure like this.

But that still left an important question unanswered.

“We’ll find her, I’ll have her details radioed in to the station and my officers will canvas the area. And we’ll have Rodrigo taken into custody for suspected assisted kidnapping, he’ll receive the very best medical care.” Officer Francés said, nodding to her second in command, who turned away to begin relaying her commands into his radio. “But there’s something else. Our informant said that while Enrique was on the run Miguel told him more about the night he died. Miguel said that you killed him Señor Rivera.”

They both froze. Absolutely rigid. Señora Rivera’s grip looked like it was going to snap her husband’s arm.   

“It finally happened.” Señor Rivera said, his voice cracking as he covered his eyes with the back of his hand.

“We knew we couldn’t pretend forever Héctor.” Señora Rivera said, looking at him grimly.

“Do you deny the boy’s claims?” Officer Francés asked slowly, ready to drop her notebook and tackle them at the slightest sign of them attempting to flee.

“Officer...the reason we keep Miguel so close is because he’s delusional.” Señora Rivera said, looking like every word was a confession that pained her to her core. “He stays with Héctor because he’s more stable that way, but when they’re apart his...mental state becomes far worse. He suffers from panic episodes and paranoia. He thinks people are trying to kill him again, sometimes it’s a family member or even a stranger, but the longer he goes without our care the worse it gets.”

“It’s why we wanted to get him back as quickly as possible.” Señor Rivera said hoarsely, “Enrique doesn’t know how bad he really is, I’m not surprised that the stress of being forcefully taken from us and then being on the run pulled something like this out of him.”

“He’s back with us now, we can take you to see him yourselves if you like.” Imelda said, rubbing the ridge above her eye with her thumb, “He’s still recovering. We have the proper documentation of his condition from certified doctors that we can present if needed. Victoria too. We love him, and Victoria, but...I’m afraid that nothing they say or claim or accuse can be taken seriously, they’re both mentally unstable, it’s all paranoid rambling from both of them. We’ve been trying to keep their conditions quiet for their sake, but everything’s spun out of control.”

“So can you help us?” Señor Rivera asked, his chin high, as if daring her to mock their vulnerable position, their family secrets they’d shared with her, “We need to contain our granddaughter before she hurts anyone else.”

“You should have called us earlier Señor.” Officer Francés, finally stowing away her notebook. “But we’re here to help. Do you have any idea where Victoria is likely to have gone?”

There would be more questions to ask later, and she was going to ask to see those doctor’s documents later, but for now she’d found enough to work on. Sebastian’s story finally made sense and the true suspects identified.

“She said that she left Enrique in a cenote somewhere behind our property.” Señor Rivera said, taking his wife’s hand. “That’s the last thing she mentioned before she stormed off. Is there any other information you need, Officer?”

Sebastian himself would need to be taken in for questioning, but it was likely that he was operating under confused facts from Rodrigo. It was a complex mess, but with Señor y Señora Rivera leveling with her, everything was coming into focus. The unstable members of the family were being triggered by the well-intentioned outcasts, and the matriarch and patriarch had failed to contain the situation before it spun out of control. Regrettable but understandable.

“Are you still the only one Victoria allows near her?” Officer Francés asked.

“Si.”

“Then please come with us, lead the way to the cenote. My squad will take her and Enrique into custody and then we can bring everyone in for questioning to straighten this all out. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Of course, we just want our family safe.” Señor Rivera said, he motioned to their left, “we can go this way, if we hurry we can reach the cenotes in about twenty minutes on foot.”

“Let’s move.” Officer Francés said.

She turned to wave her team forward as they followed the Riveras around to the back of their property, pulling her own radio to her face to bark orders to the rest of the officers in the area, sending someone to attend to Rodrigo, someone to collect Miguel, and someone else to escort Sebastian back to the police station. With any luck they would be able to quickly locate and take the suspects, Victoria and Enrique, into custody.

It was a shame that Victoria had finally gone off the deep end, but on the other hand it was perhaps only truly surprising that it had taken this long. Even with a loving family to support and care for her, there was apparently only so much trauma a young woman could take.

Officer Francés pulled her cap lower as she followed the Riveras across the stony ground.

This family had already suffered too much tonight. It was time to end this.

***

Miguel wanted to go home.

He and Tío Ruy stood at the edge of the empty cenote, looking down at the turquoise pool of water below. It was the third one they’d found, with no sign of Papá.

“Let’s take a break kid, I...I gotta sit down, alright?” Tio Ruy said, his voice tight enough with pain to crack slightly.

Miguel nodded numbly as Caprice lowered herself to the ground, helping Tío Ruy down slowly and giving him something soft to lean against in a landscape of massive boulders and rock.

It had started out alright, they’d all gotten out of the mansion safely to go get his Papá, but soon Miguel had realized that Tío Ruy was very hurt and only faking being able to walk.

“Maybe...” Miguel crouched down next to Caprice, leaning against her as he looked over the steep cliffs near them to the water far, far below. “Maybe we should go back...”

Tío Ruy said nothing, closing his eyes with a grimace as the three of them all sat in silence.

Miguel shivered, curling up tightly against the alebrije as his thoughts got too loud.

If Papá Héctor was here he would know what to do. He would be able to help Tío Ruy get a doctor, to help him not feel scared, he would even be able to help stop Tia Victoria. Helping Tio Ruy get out had seemed like a good idea, but now he wasn’t sure. Looking for his Papá had seemed like a good idea.

But not anymore.

Now he just wanted to go home. Trying to leave never worked anyway. He knew that for sure now.

“I’m proud of you, you know that kid?”

Miguel looked up at Tio Ruy, his eyes were still closed and his teeth gritted in pain.

“I mean it, Miguel.” Tio Ruy said, pulling on a stiff smile and ruffling his good hand through Miguel’s hair. “I’m gonna be straight with you. I...don’t know what’s going to happen...if, if we’re going to make it. But I just want you to know that I’m really proud that you’re pushing back. I know all this is stupidly hard for you and you’re doing it anyway. Just...never stop fighting, okay kid? You’ve got some real moxie.”

Miguel stared at him for a long moment, he still felt scared, but also now wishing he could hug Tio Ruy without hurting him more.

“Gracias.” he said quietly.

“How endearingly heart-felt.”

Miguel jolted at the hiss of a familiar voice, jumping up and turning to see Tia Victoria walk out from behind a boulder behind them.

“You bestia, get back.” Tio Ruy spat, forcing himself to his feet, pulling Miguel behind him as Caprice leapt up, already screeching.

“Careful Ruy, keep your horse back or Enrique goes over the edge.” Tia Victoria said, her voice nearly sing-song.

Miguel whimpered as Tia Victoria drug his father out after her. Papá looked terrible, his arms bound to his sides, his eyes barely open. Caprice pawed angrily at the ground and screamed at Tia Victoria, but stayed where she was.

“And look at that, you’ve kidnapped Miguel. Again.” Tia Victoria said, a kind of manic cheerfulness in her wide smile that made Miguel want to curl up and hide, “They didn’t listen, but I was right, I was right! And now I can get both of you.”

“Stay back, she’s insane.” Papá gasped, “Ruy, take Miguel and go to the police, just go, please.”

“Papá!” Miguel cried, actually taking a step forward before all his joints locked up, paralyzing him in place with fear.

“Let him go.” Tio Ruy seethed, his good arm slung around Caprice’s neck.

“I’d like to see you make me.” Victoria grinned.

“Victoria!”

Papá Héctor’s voice shot through the air like a crack of thunder. Everyone turned to see him enter the clearing, flanked by, Mamá Imelda and an entire squad of police behind him.

“Victoria, you let him go right now.” Papá Héctor commanded, powerfully striding forward, his long legs quickly closing the distance between them, several officers rushing up behind him. “First you harm Rodrigo, and then you take him and Miguel from us? What are you thinking Victoria?”

“Don’t come near me! All of you get back!” Tia Victoria shrieked, backing up several steps, taking her and Papá right to the rocky cliff edge, leaving only a few inches of stone between them and the long long fall to the jagged rocks below.

“All of you, stay where you are.” Papá Héctor barked at the police.

Miguel saw the officer with the fanciest uniform call orders for them to halt, but Papá Héctor kept walking towards them.

“You’re not going to lock me up!” Tia Victoria yelled, “I heard you talking, you’re going to kill me just like everyone else! Don’t come any closer!”

Miguel watched as Papá Héctor stopped, he was standing right beside him and Tio Ruy now, his hands held out cautiously towards Victoria.

“Victoria, mija, listen to yourself, you’re not well, you’re hallucinating again.” Papá Héctor said. He glanced down at Miguel and Ruy, the concern on his face only increasing, “Mijos, has she hurt you two? Are you alright?”

No. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go, everything was getting confusing.

Miguel knew he was supposed to be against Papá Héctor, but now he couldn’t remember why. Everything was so horrible and bad and he’d only made it worse, and now Papá Héctor was here to make things better and all Miguel wanted was for everything to be over.

Miguel took a step closer and hugged Papá Héctor as tightly as he could, burying his face against his ribcage, trying desperately to block everything out. There was too much of everything, too much sound, too much light, too much pain.

“Don’t. Don’t call me your son.” Tio Ruy’s voice said weakly, Miguel look over to see him leaning heavily against Caprice.

“Rodrigo you’re not well,” Papá Héctor said, keeping his eyes trained on Tia Victoria, “I’m sorry all of this has happened, but we can sort this out later. We’re taking you and Miguel and Enrique home where we can straighten this all out. And you too Victoria,” he said, raising his voice again. “We’re all going home, alright? We’re all going to go home and talk things over. Mamá Imelda and I want everyone to be safe, we’re here to help you.”

“Ruy. Get. Miguel. Away.” Papá said through gritted teeth, jolting as Tia Victoria swayed him back another step, towards the drop behind him.

“No more talking, kidnapper.” Tia Victoria hissed, putting a hand over his mouth.

“No one is going anywhere.” Papá Héctor said, putting an arm around Miguel protectively.

It made Miguel feel sick, but it was easier to cling tighter and hope the feeling went away, rather than try to think about why.

If only everything would just go away.

If only it would all just disappear.

[Read Chapter 12]

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Only one more chapter to go...

Thanks as always to @slusheeduck , the co-creator of this au.