#i Haven’t drawn her in such a long time oh my god

[cromacroma]

Sweetheart omor

RAAAAAAAAHHHHH🔥💥‼️💥‼️💥💥‼️🔥💥‼️🔥💥💥🔥💥🔥💥‼️🔥💥‼️🔥💥‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

The 🍩 girl to ever 🍩

[minawritesfanfic]

You are who you eat

Dexter Morgan x Reader

Word count: 4.4k

Summary: After lots of games it is finally time for meet Dexter in person

Part 4

Previous | Next

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The last few days were hectic, to say the least, with Dexter’s constant crew of agents surrounding him it was hard to send him any more goodies without risking exposing my identity earlier than I intended. I wasn’t sure if they’d allow me to send him treats without thoroughly expecting anything I send so I held back. Things were also hectic due to the new developments in the Bay Harbor Butcher case but also a big lead on someone the fraud department had been trying to catch for months, meaning my team was split pretty thin throughout the building trying to help with major and minor technology errors. It was absolutely insane how many calls we got where it was usually a simple fix, I love my job but god some of my coworkers are idiots. I crossed my arms over my chest with a sigh as I walked down the hallway past the homicide department towards the elevator, I couldn’t help but peek through the glad walls, I was surprised to see that Dexter and his entourage were nowhere to be seen. Though I could see him and another guy hiding away in the back, my attention was drawn away as I heard a voice call out my name. To my surprise it was Debra, Dexter’s sister, I didn’t know her very well but we had started talking more frequently as she’s needed my help quite often as of late.

“Hey! I haven’t seen you up here in a while, how have you been?” She said with a smile tucking her hands into her pockets.

“I’ve been alright considering everything that’s going on, how are you? I heard you guys found the butcher.”

“I’m alright as well, I’m just glad we’re close to putting this guy behind bars. It fucking sucks he was one of us though, you just never know what a person is like behind closed doors yknow?” I nodded stiffly trying not to laugh at the irony.

“Yeah, yeah it’s awful. The world’s a really scary place, but uh can I ask what was the deal was with all those FBI agents and your brother?”

“Ugh don’t even get me started on that, they were his protective detail just in case the butcher came after him but he fucking called them off. I was actually headed to go give him a piece of my mind about that when I saw you.”

“Well, they did seem kind of suffocating..” She gave me a look and I raised my hands defensively, “Sorry not my place, I’ll let you talk to him then.”

“Thanks, I will but uh I was wondering if you would maybe want to grab some drinks later?”

“Oh, I’m sorry not tonight, I probably won’t be done until very late. Maybe another time, first round on me?” She frowned but nodded, she patted my shoulder before storming off to see her brother.

It was great news to hear that Dexter’s constant security detail was gone but it also meant he was off to cause trouble tonight and I was going to figure out what. For now, since I have the chance I should probably send another note, I left the department and headed back to my office. I didn’t like the fact I was going to have to print it here but it would have to do for now, I didn’t want to wait too long and lose his interest and curiosity. Once I was back in my office I had to figure out what I was going to write, the other notes came easy but this one was harder to write. The big finale of our interaction was coming, the day we were set to meet in person, I was thankful I had scheduled it for a week or so after I sent the note as having him meet me with security detail would not have been fun. Now that I knew they were officially gone I could send another note confirming that I still wanted to meet him that Friday after not sending anything for nearly two weeks straight, I printed it out in my office and placed it in the bag with the double fudge brownies I had originally brought as a treat after lunch to instead give to Dexter. This time I would deliver it myself to spice things up. As I walked towards the elevator I wondered if he would try to kill me, that’s definitely something I had to consider. I know he kills murders but I don’t know the full extent of how he operates and if I’m safe from being tied down on one of his tables, but it was a risk I was willing to take. Of course that doesn’t mean I was going to meet him unarmed, I would take my own precautions. I stepped out of the elevator and glanced around making sure he was in his office and approached. I knocked on the door and held out the bag of brownies with the note as I smiled at him.

“Special delivery for Dexter Morgan.” I handed them to him and he offered them, I couldn’t help but notice the grin that briefly appeared on his face.

“Oh thank you, any chance you’re willing to tell me who this admirer is?” He asked as he set it down on his desk and looked away not expecting much.

“Sorry no can do, but I hear it won’t be long. Make sure to clear your calendar for Friday.”

I smirked and turned to make a quick exit when I saw the infamous Lila who Debra could not shut up about, she frowned and I knew she saw my interaction with Dexter and I could only imagine what she was thinking but it couldn’t be good. Before I could do anything she said goodbye to the detective she was talking to and hurried out the room towards the elevator. I sighed knowing that there was no way that this could end well, I left the department with a glance back at Dexter. It wasn’t a surprise that our eyes met again, I just smiled and disappeared out the door.

★ ✮ ★

Dexter read the note as he savored the brownie, it was delicious as always but his mind drifted to the brief conversation with a particular someone who he’d been seeing more frequently around the office. Most would say it was a coincidence but Dexter had stopped believing in those long ago with the job he had, they had to be the secret admirer or very closely involved with them. It didn’t make sense though, how could someone so normal and friendly be like him, he simply refused to believe it. From the most recent note it appears he’ll have an answer soon enough, they reiterated their intentions to meet at the beach beside Coral Cove Marina tomorrow afternoon. It was unsettling how much they knew about him and Dexter wondered if he would have to kill them, his number one rule was to not get caught and it’s not like they were innocent. But if he was interpreting the notes correctly they were likely about as innocent as he was, it was conflicting and killing them would make him the biggest hypocrite. Harry’s code has never prepared him for a situation like this. What right would he have to kill them if they worked under a similar code of conduct as he did? If what he did was just how could he persecute you for the exact thing he would be doing to you?

Rather than fretting over the ethical conundrum of his secret admirer, Dexter had other matters that needed his attention like whether or not he would have to kill this ‘Harlow’ person, after searching up his phone number it wasn’t hard to find his full name. Dexter put Christopher Harlow into the department's database, a known alias for one Jose Garza who had committed various crimes but none of which involved murder. Dexter didn’t need to kill him as long as he didn’t know where the cabin was, so he sent a quick text inviting him there to get his ‘snow’. Dexter didn’t wait long for a response and was relieved to hear that he had no clue, he tucked the phone back into his pocket and stood up. He needed to have a quick chat with Debra but more importantly, he needed more answers from Doakes. What he said had stuck with him, was Harry truly not who he said he was?

★ ✮ ★

Of course, I followed Dexter after he left work, I knew better than anyone he didn’t ditch his security detail just to lay around at home and watch tv porn. My suspicions were confirmed when he didn’t take the usual right at the light toward his apartment, I drove far behind keeping a safe distance between us to avoid being caught. Which grew harder to do as he ventured into the more rural part of Maimi, eventually he turned down a long dirt road. I watched as he took one more turn and eventually turned off his car, as I crept slowly towards the turn I could see up ahead was a very remote cabin. Now that I know where it was I could come back later to see what exactly he was doing here, for now, I had more important things to tend to like Franklin Graney.

The thirty-eight-year-old phone technician who not only kills people but violates them alive and dead, he’d just finished checking in after his last job for the day and was about to head home. He made his way to his truck but before he could even unlock it I came up behind him and used my wire garrote to strangle him, I forced him to kneel on the ground and pushed him away from me so he couldn’t reach back to scratch me. It only took a few minutes for him to pass out, I let his body haphazardly fall onto the concrete. I left him there and pulled my car up beside his, then I dragged him into my backseat. I got into the front and sighed, I peeked back at him through my rearview mirror with a frown but resolved myself to finish the job. I pulled out of the parking lot and headed to paradise.

Paradise was in the basement of an abandoned hospital, specifically an abandoned hospital with a morgue built into its basement which was equipped with everything I needed. Of course, I had to rig a few things to work the way I needed them to and clean things very deeply, it was awful in here when I first found it. Now it looked quite nice and I had even decorated it to my liking, and I had taken several measures so that any wanna-be urban explorers wouldn’t be able to get down here even if they tried. It was truly perfect. I turned on my music and got to work dismembering and draining the blood to save for later.

It was nearly midnight when I finished, cleanup was messier than usual today but I got what I needed. Unfortunately I couldn’t bring any of the meat or blood I harvested home because Debra was, unfortunately, spending the night, after we went drinking the last time she confided in me about her relationship with Lundy and apparently took that as us being friends now. I wasn’t a big fan of Debra but if I was going to pursue Dexter I figured it wouldn’t be a bad thing to befriend her, so even if it was unconventional to have her over I was prepared for this. It took a lot of reading, trial, and error but I had successfully managed to rig this floor to a generator which allowed me to use the mortuary fridge. I slid out one of the chambers originally used to store bodies and set the coolers containing the meat and blood onto it, then I slid it back in and shut the door. All I had to do now was take what was left of the body and incinerate it, I chose this hospital specifically because of its incinerator. I could start and finish my disposal of the corpse in one place and didn’t have to bother traveling around to complete the job it was wonderful, I placed the remnants on a cadaver stretcher and wheeled them into the other room. I opened the incinerator door and pulled out the long tray that slides inside, I transferred everything onto it and slid it back in. Then after pressing a button and pulling the lever, the incinerator roared to life, thankfully it was advanced enough to shut off on its own. I just had to come back for the bones another day, I walked back into the main room and grabbed my bag and keys before heading out. I needed to get as much sleep as I could considering what I had planned for tomorrow.

I quietly shut my front door behind me as I slipped off my shoes, of course, Deb had just tossed hers over here haphazardly. I bent over and neatly put them to the side like mine, as I stood back up I was surprised when a light turned on behind me. Debra was sitting up on the couch still awake, I completely forgot that she was still struggling to fall asleep when she was on her own. I smiled over at her and approached.

“You really were out super late.”

“Yeah, I really needed to blow off some steam then I ended up driving around not realizing how late it had gotten.” She nodded but still looked at me a bit odd.

“I see, well I’m glad you’re back safe. I was starting to think something bad happened to you.” I gave her a spin and smiled.

“Well as you can see I’m A-okay, but I desperately need a shower and to sleep for at least a decade.” I walked past her towards my bedroom, “ Good night Deb oh and I probably won’t be at work tomorrow by the way.” I said before shutting the door behind me, I desperately needed to sleep in and prepare for my meeting with Dexter tomorrow.

I tossed my bag off to the side of my bedroom and started to undress, I grabbed my towel and got into the shower. The water was warm and poured down my back it was like a really wet and warm hug. I reveled in it as I wrapped my arms around myself, killing people wasn’t something I had ever come around to enjoying and wasn’t what I wanted to be doing with my life. I had my life fucked from the beginning by people even more fucked up than I had become, so now I kill people so that I could cannibalize them. What a twisted life I was living, everyone I knew would be mortified to learn about what I do or the kinds of things I eat. Though if things continued the way they were nobody ever would, I finished showering and stepped out. The bathroom was warm and foggy from all the steam from my shower, I wrapped my towel around me before wiping away the steam on the mirror. I stared at my reflection briefly and a bloody monster stared back at me, I turned away and quickly left the bathroom. I just needed to go to bed rather than dwelling on things I couldn’t change as it wasn’t doing me any good.

Friday morning came faster than I anticipated but I made sure to call out yesterday so I slept in until ten, though it was hard to stay asleep when I had exciting plans for today. I got dressed and practically ran out the door, thankfully Deb had already left. I got into my car, I still had some time before it was noon so I decided to check out Dexter’s cabin in the woods before meeting him at the beach. I struggled a bit to remember where I was going but the closer I got the easier it was to remember, and eventually, I made it. Thankfully it seemed Dexter wasn’t here right now, I got out of the car and my clothes flowed slightly in the breeze. I nervously approached the cabin, it was old and looked damn near run down. I opened the door and was instantly met with a foul but familiar stench, I winced but stepped inside despite it and was surprised to see Sergeant Doakes locked behind a cage.

“Thank you, god, please you have to get me out of here.” He said with a relieved sigh as he stood up.

“What-what happened to you? Why are you locked up here?” I asked mostly to myself as I approached the cage resting my hand against the bars.

“It’s that freak, Dexter Morgan, he’s the Bay Harbor Butcher and he locked me in here. You have to get me out, the keys are over there.”

I frowned and I genuinely felt bad, to be honest, I liked Doakes and respected him as an officer but I couldn’t let him expose Dexter when I still had business with him. I thought for a moment debating what I should do, I didn’t want to leave him here as realistically Doakes hadn’t done anything wrong besides getting too close to the truth. Which was probably why Dexter hadn’t killed him already. It was his problem to deal with and I really shouldn’t get involved, I turned around and bolted out of the cabin despite his cries for help. I felt sick to my stomach, just leaving him there but what was I supposed to do? I had finally found someone somewhat like me, how could I throw away a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity like this? I quickly turned my car around and drove as fast as I could back to the main road, I decided to head to the beach even though there was still time before noon. I could hang out there and wait for Dexter to arrive but also spend some time clearing my head.

★ ✮ ★

After an enlightening but also earth-shattering conversation with Captain Matthew Dexter was lost, despite that he still arrived at the beach on time to finally find out who this secret admirer was. He stood far away from the shore in the shade with his hands in his pockets, he stared off into the distance where the ocean stretched out for miles farther than he could see but he also observed the various people littered across the beach. So when someone approached him from his left he turned to see who it was, and his suspicions were confirmed though it left him with far more questions than answers. She smiled at him but seemed apprehensive and kept a safe but reasonable distance.

“See we finally met huh? I’m sure you’re already working out how to get rid of me in your head which I wouldn’t recommend unless you want everyone at the office to know it was you. I’m just here to talk, now can we do that or are you going to take care of me like you did Roger?” Despite her body language showing how anxious from her eyes Dexter could see she wasn’t afraid.

“I have to admit I’m impressed by how bold you are, but you know me well. I won’t kill you for now just don’t give me a reason to.” He said narrowing his eyes slightly for a moment daring her to try something, “Why have you been sending me these gifts, what is it that you want from me?”

“That’s a great question, honestly at first I was just messing with you but then I grew curious once I found out you were the infamous Bay Harbor butcher. We operate in similar ways and I was a bit envious of how neatly you worked, at some point I started to look up to you and maybe even develop a crush.” She admitted turning away and walking further towards the beach, “It’s not every day you meet a serial killer especially one with morals. I figured we could be friends or something.” She said with a laugh as Dexter followed slowly behind her as they walked along the beach.

It was weird for Dexter to hear the words ‘serial killer’ fall so casually from her lips as she laughed like it was the most innocent thing in the world. Dexter’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions and complex thoughts, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting when they asked to meet him here. But he definitely wasn’t expecting a genuine love confession, sure they had been sending him notes under the guise of a secret admirer but he assumed it was just an excuse. Not to mention he was still conflicted as you did have morals on killing like he did so it’s not like he could justifiably kill you, this entire situation was baffling. Dexter couldn’t say he wasn’t attracted to her though, despite being weary she still carried herself with a confidence and aliveness that he didn’t have. He couldn’t wrap himself around how she could when they were the same, what did she have that he didn’t?

“That was a bit forward, wasn’t it? I’m sure this is kind of a lot.” She said with an awkward laugh, Dexter wondered if she could read his mind.

“I just never imagined I would find someone like-minded, but you want to be friends? How do I know you won’t just betray me?”

“Uhh I don’t know…” She paused thinking for a moment weighing her options in her head, “I could give you the location to my kill room? Then you could give me something more concrete about, uh let’s call it our hobby, then we’ll be even. Is that good enough for you?” Dexter thought for a moment, he hesitated but he’d be lying to himself if he wasn’t desperate for a connection much like this one.

“Sharing our vulnerabilities would be enough for me to consider this friendship, I keep my tools in a secret compartment in a chest in my apartment.” Dexter frowned as soon as the words came out his mouth, why did he tell her that, he could be risking his entire well-being just for some woman. But after everything going on with Rita and Lila, he needed someone more like-minded and rational.

“Oh so that’s what was in that trunk, I knew it was suspicious. Well, there’s this abandoned hospital on the outskirts of town that closed a little over a decade ago, in the basement is where I keep everything and do my work. There now we both have a safeguard in case of the other.”

“Yes, mutually assured destruction.”

“Exactly, but now for the other reason I invited you here. I do want to actually get to know you as a person Dexter, so how do you feel about treating this as an actual date?” She extended her hand out to him offering to hold hands.

Dexter mused for a moment with an unreadable expression as he stared down at her hand, “An actual date doesn’t sound bad. That’s fine with me.” He laced his fingers between her and she smiled.

“Perfect, I should probably start by introducing myself.” She told Dexter her name and he remembered Debra mentioning her once or twice, “Anyway do you know why I chose this beach?” She asked.

Dexter nodded and listened quietly as the woman went into a long speech about why she had chosen this beach besides its connections to Dexter. They walked along the shore as she did hand in hand with the sun shining down on them from high in the sky, from afar they appeared to be a normal-looking couple on a normal date. Dexter still wasn’t sure what to make of all of this, but he was at least enjoying the company as she made for a decent conversationalist. Not to mention he didn’t have to sugarcoat what he said because of a certain hobby of his because she understood, it was refreshing for him. Intoxicating even, his grip on her hand tightened slightly as he stared forward listening carefully to her words.

★ ✮ ★

We ended up walking along the shore talking for several long hours, well I did most of the talking as Dexter wasn’t exactly the chatty type which was fine. He still responded and was actively listening to what I said and occasionally when the topic broached something he was passionate about then he became chatty, but just as quickly he’d go quiet as if he was afraid to be passionate about anything. It was odd but I decided not to comment on it, as it was still the first date and I would have plenty of time to learn about him. Especially about the way he operated, and at some point our conversation drifted that way. I had seen his neatness in person, and I complimented him on how amazing it was that he never left a crime scene. He was very interested in how I disposed of my bodies though, I kept it vague and only talked about the incinerator. It was too early to talk about my cannibalism, I’m sure that’d scare him off faster than I could say, cannibal.

Eventually, the conversation strayed away from our extracurricular activities, we talked about our masks and he was curious how I hid who I really was so well, we talked about family, our normal pass times, and at some point the meaning of life. It was nice being able to let go like this, not having to hide what I do because someone wouldn’t understand. It was like I was breathing for the first time, and from the relaxed smile on Dexter’s face, I could tell he felt the same. I glanced past him and could see the sun setting over the horizon, it was a beautiful sight and the sun illuminated Dexter with a warm glow.

“This is so nice, I feel like I just let a huge weight off my chest. Not to mention the sunset is amazing, it’s so beautiful.” I said walking towards it as Dexter followed closely behind me as our hands were still linked.

“Yeah, admittedly this is kind of nice. I almost feel alive.” He said staring out at the sun with his hand on his heart.

“News flash buddy, you always were alive. You’ve been living every moment, I think you just can’t see it.” He glanced at me but didn’t respond so I changed the topic, “So does this mean I get a second date? I think this went too well to end with one.”

“Yeah, I think a second date would be quite nice.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

[targaryenluvs]

BIRTHDAY GIRL

pairings: eleventh doctor x fem!reader (romantic), amy pond x fem!reader, rory williams x fem!reader

summary: the chaos of your boyfriend the doctor, amy, and rory organising your birthday. but seems there’s some miscommunication and clashes when it comes to agreeing.

warnings: none! fluff, bickering between eleven rory and amy over who knows you better, kisses, hugs, short blurb

a/n: no clue why i haven’t yet written for one of my fav shows yet

you’re slumber is ruined by extremely loud voices originating in the kitchen. it wasn’t even morning in your eyes yet everyone was awake. eleven being awake made sense but rory and amy? especially amy with how cranky she gets. speaking of eleven, he wasn’t in bed.

which wasn’t odd since he quite literally didn’t need sleep but he usually got out of bed when you woke up. you’d find him reading, tossing a ball up and down, talking to himself and you, some of the more tame times. once you found him trying to do gymnastics in bed.

as you got up and made your way into the kitchen you found the three of them with a cake. “no! no! you’ve got it wrong her hair isn’t that short rory!” amy scolded as rory sighed, “i swear it is! did she not get a haircut?” amy slapped him upside the head which had the doctor laughing, “that was me you dummy. and you, quit laughing and get to icing.” the doctor raised his hands,

“ah but you see, i already have!” rory and amy’s gasps were loud. “green! you put green love hearts on the cake and- is that a hat? oh god is it a fez? and a bow tie?” amy groaned as eleven reached to adjust his own, “bow ties are cool.” the three of them spoke in unison, “i quite adore your bow tie collection eleven.” rory’s eyes widened as he realised you’d seen them. “no, no, no, no! you are not supposed to be here.”

so you wait in the living room in the meanwhile. not long after the three come in, all holding a, special cake. whilst from one side it looked gorgeous the other was a mess. you spotted a drawing of the four of you holding hands, the tardis in the background and it looked as if a five year old had drawn it.

the party in the living room has copious amounts of clashing colours and themes and they all had flour and icing on their faces and clothes. “we’re sorry for ruining it.” amy frowned, they all looked like kicked puppies and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“ruin it? i’ve got to be one of the luckiest girls around to have three people love me so much that they fought over my birthday and what to do for it. i love the cakes and the party. thank you guys. seriously.” you smiled as everyone slowly cheered up.

“you like it seriously?” rory asked as you laughed, “yes i do you idiot.” you pulled them all into a tight hug as you all laughed. you registered the rogue hand placing a certain fez on you’re head.

“now who needs party hats when we have these bad boys.” the doctor grinned as you placed the fez at the centre of your head. “i’ve never looked better.” he smiled at you, “never.” you kissed him sweetly, a hand on his cheek as you glanced over at rory and amy fussing over who got to give you the first slice.

“yeah, i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” you had your people right here.

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 17

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

Drew Tanaka's True Love Connections by @buoyantsaturn

Will smiled. "I have an appointment next door with the, uh… Matchmaker lady?” He winced at his own awkwardness, trying to bite back the embarrassment he felt. “Well, actually my friend set it up for me, but-- Sorry, do you know anything about her? The matchmaker lady, not my friend, I mean. I’m just not sure what to expect, you know? I’ve never, uh, done something like this before.” 

THIS WAS SO SICK I LOVED IT!!!!!! flowershop au with a twist oh yes ma’am. also im so pumped drew was in this every time i see her im like hello my love how are you

2. just desserts by @thegoldenappleofdiscord

It’s just a cupcake, Nico reminds himself. Surely that justifies breaking into the infirmary at the break of dawn. or: nico's love language is baking and will solace gets a lot of cake as a result.

end note hate me GIGGGGLIIING. also i am OBSESSED with this author but i haven’t read the solangelo book yet so i haven’t read a lot of her stuff and i’m DYING to. this was as sweet as nico's baking fr!! i'm writing less of a note on this fic (altho i love it) bc the WORDS i have to say about the next one,,,

3. caught in the river of tears that i cried by @thegoldenappleofdiscord*

In all honesty, it was really for the best that Will didn’t think about all the strange things that sometimes happened around him. After all, his mama had more than enough on her plate already. He was a good kid, and it was best everything stayed as it were. (Though admittedly, the flock of flesh-eating maniac pigeons, men with hooves, and the growing darkness in his veins might just make this a tiny bit more difficult than he anticipated) or: will can only push down a part of him for so long (will has plague powers, but he's known it from the very start.)

UPDATE WHEN UPDATE WHEN UPDATE WHEN REESE PLEASE 😭😭i am genuinely so obsessed with this fic and the WAY everything is woven together....like fear is a driving force!! you can feel it!! this is one of those starred fics fr bc it Changed the way i wrote and characterized will. he is fr a character who has been controlled by fear his Whole life actually. of the world and what it takes from him. of the Fates that do not care for your fragile love. of the things they are forced to do. of the precarity of life. and perhaps most intimately and ardently Himself, and the abilities he does not want to have, the life he does not want to live. the parts of himself that do not fit in the mold he has Built for himself and Forced himself into. and this fic shows that so so beautifully like this story is Woven.....i think about it literally all the time it's insane

4. a handful of almosts by @thegoldenappleofdiscord

He’d said it so easily: “Best friends don’t do that to each other, Will.” It had been a throwaway comment after Will decimated him in a card game, which was usually Nico’s forte. Following that had been a furious, “Besides, it’s war. Entirely luck-based. Winning this game doesn’t mean anything. Stop laughing – why the hell are you laughing?” He’d mostly been laughing because of Nico’s expression – eyebrows drawn tight, mouth twisted in an adorable scowl – but also because of the sudden elation pumped into him like helium. They were best friends – and maybe someone else would be hopeful for more, and maybe one day he'll pursue it (he did want it, had wanted it for a long time) but for now, he’s content where they are, sitting in Nico’s room and cursing at each other through a deck of cards. or: 5+1 of will solace being a pining loser

A HANDFUL OF ALMOSTS!!! WHAT!!! every once and a while u just hit a title that Hits u u know. like a handful of almosts. yeah. what a deeply poignant and tragic thing. how fitting for the pjoverse, a universe of people who are haunted by their almosts. god. and then to turn around and make this story FLUFFY?? MAKE IT THE CUTEST THING IN THE WORLD??? "will solace and his rose coloured glasses" REESE!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!

5. Damage Control by @nikkira

“I couldn’t save Lee. I couldn’t save Michael. I couldn’t save Silena.” “You saved Annabeth when she was stabbed, right? And Annabeth was kind of imperative to the whole saving the world effort. The people you save go on to do things and help people and save people. When you lose someone, you lose them. But when you save someone, you save a dozen more people.”

"i dream of the people i could not save. they're mad at me." oh i am UNWELL. ill i tell you. i read this line and had to sit down for a little while like actually. one thing about will solace is that he never stops punishing himself and no one got that like this fic nine years ago

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 24

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Two in a row?!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The dullness of the home renovation show does little to combat your fatigue. You watch the drilling and trimming and plastering from behind a glossy curtain, yawning and swaying against Andy. You really just want to go lay down but you don't have the courage to insist on it.

Your eyes roll back only for you to snap your head forward, forcing yourself awake. Several times you feel yourself start to slump to one side. You don't know how much longer you can stay awake.

You feel the air in your nose clog and a rumble in your throat. You're too far gone to catch yourself as you succumb to your exhaustion. You sink into the fuzzy abyss, welcoming the rest for your mind and body.

You sleep without thought, without dreams, or worries. The deep blackness that blurs time and space, the very concept of your existence fading into the void. You forget everything for the dulcet comfort of unconsciousness.

You feel something on your arm. A long, soft caress. It's almost soothing, so subtle and gentle that you're not sure it's real. You moan and sniff through your dry nose.

"Amber?" You murmur, "I'll get up in a minute."

The hand squeezes and you curl your shoulders forward. You're too tired. You just want to sleep forever. You murmur as the touch descends to your elbow and the hand slips down to your stomach, spreading there.

It is much too big to be Amber. And why would she be in the bed with you? Against you? You feel the warmth radiating along your back.

You open your eyes as you're drawn into a stolid embrace. You look down and see the freckled arm around you. Oh. What do you do?

You feel his breath behind your ear, fanning up your scalp. You've never been this close to anyone. Especially a man.

"Andy," you squeak. "Andy…" you grab his wrist as your chest squeezes with panic. He needs to let you go!

"Hmph," he grumbles groggily.

You don't care if he's sleeping. He's touching you. He's got you trapped! You don't like this. You need to get away.

You need to sleep on your own. You need space. You need to be alone!

"Andy!" You squeal and dig your nails in as he hugs you tighter, "get off!"

You writhe as your voice piques. You flail as he keeps a hold of you. He shifts but doesn't let you go. You throw your elbow up and twist around, the impact cracking hard as you're released at once. 

You hit the floor as Andy grips his cheek and grunts. You gasp as you realise what you've done. Oh no! You never meant to hurt him.

"Ow," he hides his face behind his hand, "dove…"

"I'm s-sorry," you stutter, dizzily getting your feet under you, "I didn't mean to–"

You step forward as he peeks out between his fingers. The hurt in his eyes gives you pause and you wince. Oh god! 

"S-s-sorry!" You clap your hands against your cheeks and spin, "I'm sorry! Please! Don't be mad–"

You run without looking, without thinking. You hit the edge of the couch as you race frantically out of the room. You stumble up the stairs, not looking back as you fear he might be after you. That you may have just pushed him too far. But you deserve it, don't you? You hit him first.

You burst into the guest room and scramble to lock the handle. There is no mechanism. Shaky and terrified, you get on the other side of the dresser and push it with your shoulder. It scrapes over the floor until you have it across the door.

You slide down and curl yourself into a ball on the other side, heart beating wildly. No, no, no. Stay out. Stay out!

You can hear his footsteps coming up the stairs and his barely repressed groans. There's a tap on the other side of the door before the handle turns and the dresser lurches but doesn't give. You whimper and cover your head.

You remember the way the chair leg smacked against your head, how the blows came down over and over, on every part of you. You remember how it left your breaths rattly and your bones screaming. You remember how Amber held you and told you it would be okay.

Where is she? You want her there to promise you that you're safe. You left her behind. 

"Dove, please, let me in," Andy says from the other side.

You don't say a word. You gulp as tears spring up. You don't want to remember. Stop!

"Dove, please, I'm not mad," there's friction on the door, "let's talk. What happened?"

You shake your head and ball yourself up tighter.

"Why did you hit me?" He lowers his voice.

You let out a sob. You don't know why. You didn't mean to. It never matters what you meant, it only matters that you're wrong.

"Dove," his voice rises again, "you can't just close me out."

You have no answer for him as you tremble in a heap, trapped between the past and present, paralysed for what's to come. 

"Aren't you going to apologize?" He scoffs.

You have no words, no strength, you have nothing but fear. 

He hits the door and you yelp, "Dove! Answer me." He snarls, "this is my house."

But he touched you. He was touching you! No, how can you be wrong? If he was touching you?

You're confused. It was an accident and yet you feel guilty. But Amber always says you should protect yourself. So why do you feel so rotten?

He huffs and clucks, "I can wait."

You open your eyes and slow drag your arms down, folding them across your chest. You wait and listen. He doesn't retreat right away, no he lurks outside and for a moment you think he's going to stay there until you come out. When at last his footfalls pad away, you're not relieved.

Eventually, you're going to have to leave that room. 

🕊️

Eventually comes in the form of your throbbing bladder. You stand at the door, facing the inevitable, dreading the outside. You shift the dresser inch by inch, trying not to make a noise. You move it only enough to fit through the door.

You peek into the hallway and hold your breath. The evening has come and the house is dark. You creep out, hoping you've gone unheard. You've always been good at being unnoticed.

Until Andy.

You tiptoe over the carpet and glance down towards his door. Your chest twinges with guilt. You hope he's okay. You can only feel the force of your elbow hitting him. You can hear the impact repeating in your head.

You quickly flit into the bathroom and shut the door. You flip the lock up and stand in the dim space. You don't bother with the light switch as you do what you need to and turn the faucet on only halfway to wash your hands.

You take a breath as you face the door. Just a few steps across and you can hide away. You ease it open little by little and let it fall ajar as you see the shadow waiting for you outside. Andy reaches over to flip the overhead light on.

You chew your lip as your eyes sparkle with a sudden wash of tears. You teeter on your toes as the white bulb shines through the glass sconce and illuminates the darkening blemish under his right eye. You did that.

"Andy..." you eke out.

He looks at you, tight-lipped, his own eyes glistening. He takes a deep breath that makes his chest rise and fall. His jaw grits and cheek twitches. He puts his hands on his hips.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I told you..." you blubber.

He shows his palm, raising his hand as he drops his chin. A long exhale before he lifts his head again. He lets his shoulders fall.

"We need to talk," he says.

"I... know," you hang your head in defeat.

He gestures down the hall and you offer no resistance. You walk ahead of him, keeping your posture low, wanting to shield your head as you expect the worst. He points you down the stairs and follows your descent.

You enter the dining room at his direction and you sit at the table. He pulls out the chair across from you and lowers himself with a sigh. He pushes his hands up his cheeks and winces, leaning his weight on his elbows against the table.

"You hit me," he says staunchly.

You stare at the table, wilting as you bring your feet up onto the seat and hug your legs. You nod.

"I said sorry--"

"Dove," he intones, "you hurt me. And as much as I want an apology, I want it to mean something. I want you to understand what you're apologising for."

"I am so sorry," you bluster as you snap your head up, "really, Andy. I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean to. I would never-- I'm not a mean person."

"You didn't mean to but you did."

"I was confused. You were so close and--"

"You fell asleep. I was keeping you from falling off the couch," he hisses.

"Oh, uh, well, I... I didn't realise--"

"You keep making these excuses. I didn't want to... I didn't want to believe it but I spoke with Dr. Kemp while you were... hiding," he rolls his eyes, "and he agrees with me."

"What?" You heave, nearly choking on tears, "about what?"

"About you. About you're behaviour," he puts his hands down, folding them over the table. You watch the effort he puts into his next words, "about Amber. I didn't want to think about it, to possibly admit it but... she isn't the problem, honey."

"What does that mean?" You wipe your nose, "Andy, what are you saying?"

"Look at me, Dove," he leans in, emphasizing the blotch under his eye, "look what you did."

"But-- but--"

"You take. Everything. People around you give and give and give and they get nothing in return. It's exactly what you did to her. Dove, I want you to get help, but you have to realise, you're not a burden, you're a leech."

You lean back, chest heavy as it hollows shakily. You can barely breath. Why is he saying this?

"No, no, I'm not--"

"You are. You're not stupid so give it up. You know exactly what you've been doing," he insists. His tone is even and hard but not angry. "I know you're not stupid because you know how I feel about you. And you push me away and make me feel like the villain. I'm the bad guy because I love you? Because you made me feel something and I let myself feel it--"

"Love? Feel? Wh-what?"

"Stop pretending you don't know," he snaps, "dove, you just keep hurting me. Look at everything I've done for you. Why would I do all of this if I didn't love you?"

"You love me?" You croak.

"I do and look what you did to me," he waves his hand at his face, "you did this but I'm not going to give up on you."

You bury your face in your hands and cry. Every word is like a knife slicing through you. They always say the truth hurts the most.

"Dr. Kemp is going to help you. He's going to help both of us work through this--"

"I don't understand," you say through your fingers.

"I know you don't, so you need to trust me," he reaches across the table as you open your eyes and tear your hands away from your face, "I can forgive you, this one time. And that's because I love you. Because it would hurt more to let you go."

You shake your head and clutch at your hair, "no, no, no... I never... I didn't mean to hurt you..." you babble, "Andy," you gasp and hit the edge of the table with your hands, "do you mean I hurt Amber?"

He looks down and swallows tightly, "honey, you know what you did. You know it. You have to accept it if you're going to change."

You shudder as the world seems to shrink around you. You really are just as bad as you always thought. All those years in your little bubble, with Amber lying to you, telling you that you're not a monster. She took your abuse and you took everything from her. How could you be so horrible and not even know it?

"I... didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I didn't... mean to," you chant through thick sobs, "no, I didn't mean to..."

"Shhh, dove," he stands and you make yourself even small in the chair.

You wince as he rounds the table and kneels beside you. He hushes you as he touches your arm, rubbing it gently as he coos at you. You quiet to a hiccuping heave and look at him.

"Are you going to try?" He asks.

You nod and gulp loudly.

"That's good, sweetie," he praises and reaches up to caress your cheek, "Dr. Kemp is going to see us tomorrow and we can do this together."

"Us? Both?" You murmur in confusion as he runs his fingers back down your arm and takes your hand.

"Couples therapy," he explains, "we have to work on our communication."

"Couple... what?" You squint at him, lashes fluttering.

"Come on, dove," he stands and pulls you to your feet, "I told you how I feel, are you going to keep hurting me by pretending you don't feel the same?"

Your lip trembles. Do you feel the same? You don't know. You've never really known. You're just afraid and lost and confused. You don't want to be a bad person.

"You feel bad, don't you? For hitting me?" He asks and you nod, a sob wrenching in your chest, "and you feel bad why?"

You search his face, only looking in his eyes for a second before you can stand no more. You look at his neck and the tendons there, the way it bobs nervously, and the tension set into his shoulders. Your lips part and you puff out a shaky breath.

"Because... I love you?" You squeak the uneven statement through your quivering lips.

"You do but and that means it's going to be okay," he draws you into a hug and you don't fight it. You can't fight something you don't understand, "isn't it, dove?"

[leiascully]

X-Files OctoberFicFest Day 13: birthday

Cut for grown and sexy content.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Her voice was hushed, but he could hear the anxiety and desire thrumming in her throat.

“More than anything,” he said. His mouth was dry with need. He was already getting hard just thinking about it.

“I haven’t…” she began, and then paused. “My previous partners weren’t particularly interested.”

He put his hands on her hips. “We don’t have to.”

“No,” she said, and licked her lips. “I want to give you what you want.”

“I want you to want what I want,” he told her. “If you’re not into it, I don’t want it.”

“Maybe you can convince me,” she said. Her eyes were a shade darker, her pupils widening.

He rubbed his hands up her ribs under her jacket. “You can leave your clothes on, if that helps.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “How does that work?”

“Trust me,” he said, and she nodded.

He pushed gently up against her and walked her backwards until she bumped up against his computer desk. She hitched her hip up. He kissed her and lifted her at the same time so she was sitting on the desk. God, her mouth was paradise. He let himself sink into the kiss. Scully’s mouth was bossy even when the rest of her wasn’t and he loved it. She demanded more: sucking at his lower lip, teasing his tongue with hers. He gave her everything she wanted, leaning into her.

His hands stroked down to her calves and up again. Slowly, slowly, he pushed her skirt up until it bunched around her hips. She sighed as his thumbs stroked the crease of her thighs. He kissed his way down her throat, down the open vee of her skirt, and nuzzled at her belly on his way to the floor. She was still wearing pantyhose. He rubbed his nose and lips against her knee, savoring the texture of the thin fabric. Scully gasped as he found a ticklish spot. She wove her fingers through his hair, leaning back on the other hand.

He kissed up the inside of her thigh, teasing her with his tongue. If he was careful, he could draw the delicate fabric away from her skin with his teeth. He liked the challenge of it; he also liked the noises she made when the edges of his teeth scraped her skin. He nosed closer, pulling her hips to the edge of the desk. He could smell the musky heat of her arousal. He pushed his face deep between her thighs and breathed her in, sighing out her name.

“Sorry,” she said. “I can go shower.”

He rested his chin on her knee. “The Emperor Napoleon allegedly wrote to Empress Josephine telling her not to wash.”

She smiled down at him, but her brows were still drawn together. “I’m not an empress.”

He inhaled her again, savoring the scent of her. “It’s still perfume to me, Scully.”

“Oh,” she said, and then she said it again as he nuzzled closer, his shoulders spreading her thighs. He tongued her clit through her panties and her pantyhose. She gasped, a high rising note like she was asking a question. He licked at her again and again, listening to her moan.

“Good?” he asked, sitting back on his heels.

“Good,” she said, sounding breathless.

“More?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, and pushed his head back between her thighs. He grinned and sucked at her clit. Even through layers of fabric, he could feel her throbbing and taste her wetness. Fuck, he’d dreamed of this for so long. The one thing that had gone right in his relationship with Phoebe was the unlimited potential for cunnilingus. He wanted to eat Scully out for leisurely hours. He wanted to watch her come undone. He wanted her to look at his lips in a meeting and shift in her chair, suddenly restless.

She tasted so fucking good. The fabric over her clit added friction as he rubbed his tongue against her. Her hand left his hair, frantically tugging at her shirt instead until it came untucked and she could unbutton it with shaking fingers. He watched as she squeezed her tits with her free hand, first over her bra and then shoving roughly under it. His cock twitched, still confined in his pants.

“Pantyhose off,” she said, and he rolled them down her legs as she lifted her hips. It was much easier to lick under the edges of her underwear with the pantyhose gone. He teased at her tender skin until she squirmed, then sucked at her clit again through the fabric. She hooked one knee over his shoulder and he rubbed his hand up and down her bare thigh. She moaned, sounding breathless. Her hips rose against his face, rolling in rhythm. She was still fondling her tits and the sight of it made him groan against her skin.

He liked the fabric between his tongue and her clit. It made the whole process last longer. He could feel the way pleasure spread through her, permeating every inch. It was a slow burn, not a quick flicker of sensation. He liked it even better when she reached down and twitched the fabric aside and he could taste and feel all of her. He traced circles over her clit, drawing it all the way into his mouth, and she groaned deeper and louder.

Fuck, she was everything. He lost himself in her cunt, fucking her with his tongue, licking back up to the tight bud of nerves. She was going to come. He could feel it in the way her hips rolled under his mouth, in the way her thigh trembled against his ear. He coaxed the orgasm out of her, sucking at her clit until she was crying out, her wetness soaking his face. She gasped his name, tangled her hands in his hair as her body shook. He licked at her until she pushed him away, wincing.

“Much better than birthday cake,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Saves on candles too.”

“This sounds like the place for a joke about letting you blow me,” she said, “but I can’t quite get there.”

“Don’t worry,” he said with a wink. “I’ll get you there.”

“I think that’s true,” she told him. She slipped her fingers into his waistband. “Now it’s my turn.”

“Can we celebrate unbirthdays too?” he asked as she unbuckled his belt.

“I think we’ll have to,” she said. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“Look at that,” he said. “My wish came true.”

“I guess you really know how to blow,” Scully said.

“I just put my lips together,” he said.

She grinned. “Shut up, Mulder.”

He did.

[mama-qwerty]

Haunting Memories

Okay, this popped into my head for @welcome-to-green-hills Happy Fall Y'all event.

My brain feels like mush right now, so hopefully this makes sense. 😆

~~~~~

A light breeze blew through the changing leaves, bringing a sigh that was almost a hiss as they shivered. The trees around the MacPherson house boasted a colorful range, an almost constant shower falling as they were broken loose from their hold on the branches.

Three pumpkins lined the steps of the deck off the kitchen, and Callie spread newspaper on the wooden planks. Knives and various carving tools sat to her left, as she sat cross-legged on the floor, a few towels nearby for any mess.

“Okay,” she said, checking over her supplies once more to make sure she had everything at hand. This was the first Halloween with Knuckles in her care, and she wanted to show him some fun traditions. “Do we have everything?”

“Think so,” Wade said as he hauled a pumpkin up and placed it in front of her. “This’ll be fun! I haven’t carved a pumpkin in forever.”

“Did you do it when you were a kid?”

His face clouded slightly, as he gave a shrug. “We tried. But Wanda usually ended up smashing mine and smearing the guts either in my hair or down my back, so I kinda quit wanting to for a while.”

“Oh.” God, his sister sounded like a real piece of work.

“Did you carve them for Halloween?”

She gave a tight-lipped smile. “My mother and I would. But when she died I . . . didn’t really feel like doing it anymore.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence settled over them then, and Callie gave herself a little shake. This was supposed to be a fun activity, something for the three of them to enjoy, and the mood had already tanked pretty severely.

She glanced to her right, and found Knuckles standing farther away, his brow drawn down and eyes glued to the pumpkin before her. His quills bristled just a hair.

“You okay?” she called, and he jumped slightly. He blinked, and flicked his eyes around him, as though looking for something.

Eventually his eyes found their way back to her, and he dipped his head toward the pumpkin. “Why do you have those?”

His voice was low and tight. If Callie didn’t know better, she’d swear he was afraid.

“It’s tradition.” She used a wet towel to clean the rind. “We carve faces into pumpkins around Halloween for a fun decoration.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “A long time ago people believed they helped ward off evil spirits.”

The pinched look on his face intensified. The quick glances around him increased. “There are evil spirits near?”

Her brow furrowed. “Not that I’m aware of. It’s just an old superstition. What’s wrong?”

Knuckles pulled himself up to stand tall, rolling his shoulders back as he pushed out his chest. His “proud warrior” pose. But his fur was a bit fluffed out, and his quills were still bristled, and in fact looked a little pokier than before. “I must do a patrol. To search for these evil spirits.”

Callie blew out a huff. The whole reason she was doing this was for his sake and now he wanted to go off and do his warrior thing. “No you’re not. Come here. What’s the matter with you? You’re going all poofy and pokey.”

The echidna flicked his eyes to Wade, his brow furrowing slightly, before focusing back on her. He took a hesitant few steps closer, but watched the pumpkin with a narrowed gaze.

“In my travels throughout the galaxy, I was given information that indicated the Master Emerald may have been on a planet with many of . . . those.” He gestured toward the pumpkin with a fist. “They were much like your tradition, with faces carved into them. They glowed from inside, and . . .”

He paused, pulling his lips tight as he took another few looks around them.

“And?” Wade coaxed. “C’mon, don’t leave us hanging.”

Knuckles’ muzzle wrinkled. “. . . and their eyes seemed to follow me as I searched.”

Wade and Callie stared at him for a moment, before the deputy gave a little shiver. “Oh, freaky. I just got goosebumps!”

“Maybe it was a trick of the light,” Callie said, although she could see the tension in the boy’s shoulders. The way his jaw clenched. He was really scared. “When we’re in a strange place, our minds can play tricks on us. Especially if it’s dark, too.”

His fists clenched. “It was no trick. They watched me, grinning.” His quills bristled even more. “And they did not keep the evil spirits away.”

The hairs on the back of Callie’s neck began to prickle. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean the evil spirits there did not take kindly to my presence. I was attacked by foes I could not see. I barely escaped with my life.”

Silence hung heavy in the air, and Callie and Wade exchanged a glance. Wade turned to Knuckles, swallowing before speaking. “You were attacked by ghosts? Like, for real?”

Knuckles gave a stiff nod. “For real.”

Wade looked back to Callie, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She looked down at the pumpkin before her, her shoulders dropping.

This whole thing had turned into a disaster in record time. Between her own issues after the loss of her mother, to Wade’s memories of his sister’s abuse, and now the discovery that Knuckles apparently associated pumpkins with the time was nearly murdered by ghosts, the idea of carving these things was quickly losing its appeal.

Maybe she should have asked them first. It hadn’t occurred to her that something so innocent could conjure such unwelcome memories.

She tossed the towel in her hands over the pumpkin, as if hiding it from view would make the awkward cloud that had settled over them dissipate.

“Sorry guys,” she said, her voice soft. “Guess this didn’t turn out quite like I’d envisioned.”

The silence stretched on for a moment, before Wade moved closer, dipping down to try and catch her gaze.

“Hey,” he said, coming to sit on the top step facing her. “You’re not gonna let something like a few horrible memories and attempted ghost murder ruin the moment, right?”

She didn’t respond for a moment, her gaze focused on the towel-covered pumpkin before her. Why exactly had she suggested this in the first place? She wasn’t one to decorate for, well, any holiday, let alone Halloween. Usually she turned her lights off and snuggled up with some creature features before heading to bed early. Her house was too far away from the main part of town to get any trick-or-treaters, and aside from a few teens looking to TP her car, she’d avoided any real trouble.

This seemed to be a bad idea from the start.

Movement from her right as Knuckles moved closer. He spoke softly, his voice calmer now. “This ritual. It is important to you.”

A weak smile curled one side of her mouth, and she shook her head. “I remember carving pumpkins with my mother. It’s one of my favorite memories. Picking the perfect pumpkin, choosing a design, clearing the goop out, carving it. It was an all day thing for us, and even when the pumpkin came out looking like crap, which was most of the time, it was still some of my best memories of her.”

Wade smiled. “That sounds really nice.”

She nodded, her smile fading. “The first Halloween after she died felt so . . . empty.” She pulled her lips tight. “I guess I just wanted to try and do something fun with the two people who mean the most to me. Try to . . . recapture some of those feelings. Kinda dumb, I guess.”

Silence returned, and Wade moved a little closer, now sitting on the other side of the pumpkin, opposite Callie.

“When I was about eleven or so, my mom had to take Wanda to a dance recital. Wanda did not want me there, which was fine, I didn’t wanna go anyway.” He leaned to one side, bracing himself with an extended arm. “It was gonna last a few hours, so I got an idea to carve my own pumpkin while they were gone. Something I could do for myself. So after they pulled out of the driveway, I pulled out the pumpkin I’d bought a few days before and went to work.”

A little smile curled his lips at the memory, and Callie couldn’t help but smile back. “How’d it go?”

“Terrible.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Took me forever to get the top cut off, the guts made a horrible mess, and I couldn’t get through the rind. My mom was so mad at the mess when she got home, and Wanda ended up destroying the pumpkin anyway.”

Callie’s smile faded as she dropped her head again. “Cripes, Wade.”

“But it was nice to try,” he said, his voice still soft. “Ever since I left home I always promised myself I’d try doing a jack o’lantern again, and every year I either talk myself out of it, or just . . . don’t. Like there wasn’t much of a point. Not if I was doing it all by myself.”

“Your words may be true,” Knuckles said, moving to sit cross legged next to her. “Perhaps it was my mind playing tricks, before.” He paused, eyes flicking to the covered pumpkin. “Must the carving be a face?”

She turned slightly to him, a little smile curling one corner of her lips. “No. We can carve other shapes in. Maybe we can try an outline of the Master Emerald, if you want.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment, before giving a sharp nod. “Yes. I would like that.”

Callie offered him a smile, before turning to Wade. “Wanna try carving a pumpkin that won’t be smashed by an overly aggressive sister?”

A smile spread on Wade’s face. “You had me at ‘Hey, Wade! Wanna come over and carve pumpkins with me and Knux?’”

She snickered, pulling the towel off the pumpkin before her. “Then let’s make some new memories, huh? Maybe some nicer ones.”

Man and echidna both nodded, and scooted forward as they began work on the first pumpkin.

[athenamikaelson]

War of Scars

Luke Castellan x Reader Story

Ch. 2 

Warnings- Swearing, mentions of past chapter, injuries. 

Word Count- 2.2k

The searing pain was the first thing I felt. A pain that started at my toes and crawled up into my head was all I could focus on. If this was hell then whoever was in charge of constructing my personal punishment deserves a big-ass raise. 

I use the very little strength I have to try to open my eyes. After what feels like a hundred tries, a blinding light fills my burning pupils. 

“Jesus fuck.” 

A scratchy-deep voice sounds. Wait. That voice came from me. After realizing the strangled voice came from me, my attention was drawn to the dryness of my mouth and throat. I want to swallow but I have no moisture or saliva in my mouth to even try. Water. I need water.

“Gods, took you long enough to wake up.”

A masculine voice says from somewhere around me. I strain my vision to look around and feel my eyebrows scrunch together as I take in my surroundings. 

Around me are about 6 other beds, like the one I have realized I’m lying on. Two of the beds are occupied, but my eyes can’t seem to focus on who. The beds stand against dark wood walls with what looks like two windows in the small room. The overwhelming smell of antiseptic and sweat fills my nostrils as I glance at the figure leaning over in a chair. Their whitish-blond hair is covering their face as they lay with their head in their hands. 

“I almost had to drug her to get her to get some sleep,” I whip my head to the voice I had heard earlier, “She hasn’t wanted to fall asleep in case you woke up. She’s going to be pissed when she finds out you woke up without her being awake.”

I stare at the blond boy to my right. He’s tall and conventionally attractive. About six foot, sun blond hair, pale skin, and a boyish grin that covers his face. I go to speak but stop when the scratchy feeling in my throat comes back. 

“Oh my bad dude, I bet your throat is dry as hell,” He walks over to a side table and pours water from a pitcher into a glass, “I mean not having water in three weeks will do that to you.”

He starts to walk over to me and I visibly flinch away. Fucking hell! The movement made the pain burn somehow even more than before. 

“Woah, I mean to harm,” He raises his hands innocently as he drops the glass onto the side table next to me, “I’ve been your personal nurse these past weeks. If I was going to kill you, I would’ve done it while you were out of it.”

I stare at him cautiously for a moment. The smirk on his lips reminds me of the cat from Alice in Wonderland. I know I should be weary of someone new but the look in his blue eyes almost appears to sincere, and the burning in my throat is urging for me to gulp down the water. Because of that I slowly lift my left hand, not wanting to aggravate the pain anymore, and grasp the glass. I bring it to my lips and almost moan at the feeling of the liquid coating my throat. 

“Woah girly, don’t drink too fast you haven’t had anything in your stomach for so long. You’ll get sick drinking too fast.”

I glance up at him slightly and then slow down my sips. It takes about another minute before I’ve finished up the glass and set it back down. The Cheshire cat of a boy grabs the pitcher and refills the glance again for me. I stare at him for another moment before a feeling of dread fills my body. Three weeks. 

“Three weeks? You said I’ve been out of it for three weeks!” 

He gives me a slow nod, as if scared of my reaction. I can feel my chest begin rising up and down heavily and fast at the thought. Three weeks. Three fucking weeks. 

“Ok, I heal physical wounds not emotional so before you start freaking out,” He sits himself down on the bed next to mine, “Three weeks is an incredibly fast recovery time for someone who went through what you did.”

He glances at me and then drops his eyes down to my left arm. I follow his gaze to my arm to see it covered in white bandages going all the way up to my chest. 

“Do you remember what happened?”

I scrunch my eyebrows together trying to piece together my memory. The car crash. She was telling me about Gods and monsters when we got hit by something. The monster, that lion-goat thing attacked me and Keiko. I killed it, I think. My memory comes in flashes as I try to piece everything together. My headache made me close my eyes in pain. 

“OK, just take your time. You’re finally awake I don’t want you passing back out on me.”

Cheshire places his hand on my right shoulder in a comforting way. I open my eyes and glance at his hand which makes him take it away and bring it back to his side.

“We got attacked. Keiko and I.” I glance at the hunched-over person in the corner of the room who I’ve now figured to be Keiko.

“Is she ok?”

I watch as the boy glances over me to Keiko and his smirk deepens as he rolls his blue eyes. 

“Trust me she’ll live. Koko is the most satyr I’ve ever met. Not even the Ciimera could keep her down,” His haze comes back to me and an unreadable expression comes over his face for a split second, “Speaking of the Chimera, I’ve never met a demi-god who’s been able to survive it, let alone kills it.”

My mind runs in a frenzy as he speaks. Koko? Did he really just call Keiko, Koko? What makes me freeze up though is the memory of the monster, or the Chimera as Keiko and this boy have called it. The merciless look in its eyes after it clawed up my back, the hissing of the snake as I used it to strangle the goat, and the way those merciless eyes glossed over as I impaled the beast with the goat's horn. 

“I don’t understand,” I looked back at him and tears started to blur my vision as I looked down at my wrapped arm.

“I don’t understand what happened in those woods, or the whole demi-god thing,” I turn from him and then look at my wrapped arm, “And I don’t understand why my arm is wrapped since that monster didn’t touch my arm.” 

I watch with blurred vision as the boy glances at my arm with a weary expression and a mix of sorrow. He gives me a small smile and stands up.

“I think you should hear this from a more friendly face,” He walks over to Keiko and flicks her forehead stirring her awake, “Not that I’m saying my face isn’t friendly, because it very much is.” A playful smirk crosses his face.

Keiko leans up and I look at her. She has a fading bruise on her left cheekbone and a small cut on her upper lip. She rubs her eyes and begins to scowl at the boy before she follows his gaze towards me. Her mood instantly shifts as she jumps up and starts walking towards me.

“You’re finally awake,” A smile comes over her light features, “You were touch and go for a while there, had everyone worried. But I told them you were a fighter.”

“That’s true she did.” The boy backs up Keiko.

Keiko turns back towards the boy and sends him an eye-roll.

“You can go now.” She shoos him away with one hand. 

The boy just rolls his eyes and smiles anyway as he looks at me.

“Fine, I’m leaving. I spend all my time helping you damsels in distress and I don’t even get a single thank you,” He places his hand over his heart in a fake heart and then smiles at me, “Oh, and by the way Sleeping beauty, I’m Alastair, Son of Apollo. You should know the name of your nurse.”

Alastair smiles at me and Keiko looks over her shoulder at him.

“Don’t you have a mirror to go stare at?”

Alastair laughs as he goes to walk out the screen door. 

“I actually might go walk in front of the Aphrodite cabin to bless them with my presence. The ladies have missed me since I’ve been here taking care of Sleeping Beauty. I’ll be back to check on you later Y/N.”

Alastair smirks at both of us and then opens the screen door and lets it slam behind him as he walks away. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s a flirt but harmless. He should’ve been a Son of Aphrodite with the way he is obsessed with himself.”

I stare at Keiko silently as I listen to her talk about this stranger with a smile on her face. The longer I stare at the familiarity on her face though, I’ve realized that he was only a stranger to me. 

I drag my eyes down to Keiko’s feet expecting to see her usual Doc Martens, but in their place are, Goat Hoaves. What the actual fuck.

“Keiko. Where the fuck are your feet?” 

Pure shock must be written on my features, matching the shock I feel in my chest because Keiko sends me a small weary smile. 

“Ya about that. Do you remember how I was telling you about the Demi-Gods and Greek stuff before we crashed?”

She questions me as I nod slowly. 

“Good. Well, I am what you call a Satyr. I have half the body of a goat and the other half of a mortal. Satyrs are also protectors of demi-gods,” She gestures to me, “like yourself. That’s why I was sent to you last year.”

I stare at her in disbelief trying to make sense of everything she’s telling me. 

“I know this can be a lot to take in and I don’t want to pressure you with everything, especially after the lightning bolt and the Chimera.”

I meet her eyes in confusion.

“Lightening bolt? What lightning? All I remember is getting attacked by the monster and then killing it.”

Keiko goes quiet for a moment and then glances at my wrapped arm. 

“After you killed the Chimera I found you covered in blood. I was so worried about you, so when I saw you standing over it with the horn in your hand I was so surprised. I had lost a lot of blood myself so when I went to go to you I fell. You came to me but when you did,” Keiko stopped and I watched her chest deepen with each breath, “It came out of nowhere. A lightning strike. It was coming right at us, but you being your sacrificial self pushed me out of the way. That’s when it struck you.”

I glance down at my bandaged arm as I try to recall what she’s telling me. But nothing comes to mind. It’s like the lightning wiped my memory. 

Keiko goes to continue talking before I raise my right hand to stop her. 

“Did you know the whole time?”

I look Keiko in the eyes and watch the confusion enter them.

“Did you know that my parents, weren’t actually my parents? That I was some Greek freak of nature,” My voice hardening with each question, “Was it all a lie? Our friendship!” 

Keiko opens and closes her mouth multiple times and I want her to lie to me and tell me that she chose to be my friend because she liked me for me. That for the first time in my life someone wanted to be my friend. But once I see the pained look in her eyes I already know my answer. 

“Get out.”

Keiko stares at me and shakes her head.

“Y/N, I know this whole thing is a shock to you but,”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out!” I yell at her.

And for the first time in our “friendship,” Keiko flinches. She flinches because of me. Good. Fuck her and fuck this demi-god thing. Keiko shakes her head solemnly, then stands up and walks to the door. 

As she reaches for the screen door handle, she pauses. 

“I might have lied about a lot during our friendship, but I never lied to you about being your friend. I truly do care about you Y/N.”

She must be waiting for me to say something but all I do is stare at the wooden wall in front of me. I hear her let out a sigh and open the door. 

“You can come find me when you want to talk.”

The screen door slams for a second time today, as the tears that were building in my eyes finally fall onto my cheeks. The truth of everything I’ve learned brings sobs to my lips and I close my eyes again hoping to wake up from this nightmarish hell.

TAGS- @luvvfromme @potatochip-111

[unholyhelbig]

legit scared for the last chapter of 🕷

[A/n: Not going to lie, I was a bit scared too. I actually hate writing fight scenes and never fail to write myself into a corner with them. Seriously though, this was fun, thank you all for reading!]

Title: Magnetic

Ship: Kate Bishop x gn!reader

Disclaimer: I did not proofread, if there are mistakes, I'm sorry!

Trigger warnings: Blood, Fighting, major death, grief

Main Masterlist | Ao3 | Request Prompts | Join my Taglist!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five]

Summary: Reader is a spider!person from earth-2099 and Kate Bishop is curious about why she's so drawn to them.

“Spiderman.” The word pressed against the length of your spine in an electric shock. It had been uttered around you before, chaste and with disbelief. The way it was spoken now, in the echo of an abandoned building as rain pounded against the structure, was an insult. A mockery.

You felt the floor shift under your weight, your palms a graveyard of half-moons. Your lungs burned, refused to constrict, or release. His features were shaded, all except the white of his fanged smile.

“Oh, my darling child, don’t tell me you haven’t been practicing. Your mother, she was always so insistent that you practice.”

Was.

The word struck like a brass bell. You fought against a wince that wanted to surface, digging your heels in at the prospect of showing weakness. What had he done to her? Time worked differently in other universes, across the space continuum. On 2099, she could have passed naturally, but you highly doubted that. 

You felt the pulsing ache in your jaw, knew that your canine teeth had broken through your soft gums with a dripping purpose. It you ran your tongue against them, they’d surely cut flesh, the venom-soaked claws ripping the fabric at the very fingertips of your suit.

“You have my undivided attention,” You spoke, surprised by the sureness of your tone “Enough games.”

He laughed humorlessly “Games? Y/n/n I’m here to bring you home. There are no games, no tricks. Is it impossible to believe that I want us to be a family again?”

Your gaze flicked to Miguel, looking for some type of pained reaction, the quiver of his lip, the furrow of his brow. He stood statue-still, looking past your shoulder with his arms tucked behind his back as if her were a soldier. As if he were waiting for your father’s indication that he could pull in a breath.

“You… took my family.”

“No,” He fretted “I took a liability. And look at you now! With nothing holding you back you’ve survived dozens of worlds. You’re stronger for it.”

He stepped into the pale light that filtered through the boarded windows. For the first time in a long time, you got a good look at his elongated features. There were bags under his eyes and an unnatural stubble against his jowls.

“There’s something about you, Y/n. Something that made what I’ve been working for my entire life work. At first, I thought it was your mother, something in her bloodline that mingled with the serum. But your brother, he failed me.”

Miguel remained motionless, though his eyes moved to the floor. There was a sick, squelching crack that drew your attention back to your father. He had relaxed his shoulders, released the tension that he was holding back. There was the natural urge to back away, but you held your stance as six cracking legs emerged from his back, oozing with a dark liquid that flicked the already ruined floor. He let out a sigh of relief that rushed into a growl.

“I hate to make things casual, y/n/n, but family doesn’t judge. Do they?”

Your eyes gave you away as they always had. Just like the music that you had studied from a young age, there was something in the fear that seeped from your gaze that made him smile. He’d injected himself, God knows how many times, with the same serum that he used on you. Silently, you counted your blessings, though they were small.

“I am only going to ask nicely this one time. Come home with me. We can make history, change the world.”

The legs sprouting from his spine crackled and popped as they moved on their own, taking in the surroundings. You held back the nausea that built within your stomach, swallowing the acrid taste in your mouth.

“Our world?” You took a step forward, “you took that from me when you murdered Kate and watched her die in my arms. You knew how much she meant to me, how much she means to me. There is no world worth changing without her in it.”

“That’s fine,” his breath was hot on your cheek, his scent rotted like freshly tilled earth. Your spider senses were setting off every single alarm, hair standing up on end. “I don’t need you. I just need your blood.”

One of the legs rushed past you, aiming directly for the center of your chest. You were quick with your movements, ducked in time for the splintered edge to rip through your shoulder with a blinding pain.

You pushed away, shooting a web towards the nearest loose board. You pulled it with enough force to hit the back of your father’s head. It collided with a hollow noise, snapping his head forward. A low blow- but enough to disorient him for a few seconds.

Two of the legs moved forward, came down against the floor with enough force to splinter wood. You jumped back, away from their sharpened edges but into a cold solid figure. Miguel had moved behind you, quickly wrapping an arm around your mid-section, the other across your neck, squeezing slightly. Instinctively, your elbow shot up, crunching into his nose, loosening his hold.

Glass shattered on either side of you. Yelena slid across a clad floor, Cassie not far behind, stumbling for only a moment on her feet before she regained composure. You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the Widow’s dramatics, but grateful all the same.

You dug your feet into the floor and pushed back with enough force to shove Miguel into the wall. His spine collided with a support beam, and he released you.

“What the hell is that?” Cassie panted.

“My father,”

Yelena winced “Nasty.”

He smiled all the same, his skin waxy and pale. There was a squelching noise as flesh split and pedipalps pushed through his cheeks with a bloody drip, his teeth elongating, dripping with saliva.

“Hey big guy!” Peter called out from the open doorway of the room. He had his mask pulled down, his eyes narrowing under the fabric as your father turned around and stretched himself out with a popping motion. “Oh, really big guy”

Miguel landed a punch on the right side of Cassie’s face. She was knocked back into Yelena, who shoved her forward again before leveling him with a blow of her own. You made eye contact with Peter who shot webs at his loafered feet.

You aimed for the wrists. If he was restrained, then he would be easier to take out of the picture. Two long strands that you pulled down with all of your might to bolster him to the floor. He struggled against it.

“You brought backup” he garbled, “I’m impressed.”

Your father ripped through the sticky webs. With a quick movement, you slashed your claws against his soft side. He howled out in pain, turning with enough quickness to use one of his many trodden legs to push you across half the room. Against you better judgement, you hugged it close, digging your legs in despite the unfamiliar feeling on your chest.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!”

“Hold on!”

Peter was shooting a web at the strongest looking beam on the ceiling, hoisting himself up. You could hear a struggle on the other side of the room, watched out of the corner of your eye as Cassie shrunk down.

Peter’s feet collided with the center of your father’s chest. It sent him backwards as he collided with a wall. You clenched your eyes shut and held on tighter to the one thing that made you feel stabilized, despite how disturbed it was.

The two of you moved through insulation, drywall and a few stray bricks. Wood splintered around you and the damp smell of outside filled your lungs. You both landed on the asphalt six stories down.

“Sorry Y/n!” Peter called down past the ringing in your ears.

It took a few seconds to blink the stars from your eyes, but you were quick to scramble to a standing position. Your body ached, you father took a few moments to gain his own composure but you used a bout of strength to collide the tip of your boot with his stomach.

“Here’s the thing, dad. You took everything from me.” Another kick to the ribs, his legs fizzling. You knew it was low, but you didn’t want to give him the chance to stand, not until you spoke. “I’m your child and you used me as a lab rat.”

“I made you stronger,” He rasped, spit a stringy patch of blood to his side. He looked up and smiled, teeth stained a russet brown. “Better.”

“You injected me with a trial serum hoping that it would work, but deep down, you were hoping it wouldn’t. I was always a failure to you. Why would this be any different? Why would I impress you?”

You delivered another kick to his abdomen, a soft spot not protected by his writhing legs, his hissing exterior.

“I think you were shocked, father, when I didn’t die on that table. And through that shock was anger and envy. You didn’t kill Kate because she distracted me, you killed her because she meant everything to me, and you couldn’t stand to see me happy.”

A giggle bubbled from his throat that soon turned into a maniacal laugh. It echoed off the alley walls, stretched its fingers to the sky. Clint shot an arrow across the gap of buildings, using his bow to carry him into the massive hole in the front of the building.

Kate had her own bow nocked and aimed at the center of your father’s chest. It would shift each time he did, little movements that Kate expertly tracked. She breathed, waiting for a moment to step in. She was patient, and so were you.

“What gave you the right? What gave any of you the right!” He was yelling now, slowly making his way to his feet. The legs sprouting from his back twitched as he hauled himself up. The feelers that protruded from his cheeks poked around. “I deserve to reap the benefits of my science. All of my work wasted on you!”

You sprung forward and swiped at him listlessly with the long, sharp nails digging into warm flesh from his collarbone to the hem of his pants. Deep, black blood started to spill, blooming like flowers against his chest. He rumbled at you, legs whooshing past you.

He swiped one under your legs, dropping you to the damp pavement. Two others pinned you by the shoulders to the ground. They pressed with enough force to break skin, you could feel them snap bone, a scream ringing out that mixed with his own.

“So impulsive,” He laughed, “Child, you underestimate my ability to get exactly what I want.”

Another pointed leg was against your throat. You grasped at it, squeezing hard. You could hear the exoskeleton sputter under your touch. Even with your feet kicking listlessly at his midsection, he overpowered you.

Blood filled your mouth, sweet and metal. “Fuck… you”

An arrow cut through the air with enough precision to pierce your father’s eye. The arrowhead was halfway through his iris, and he let out a guttural howl in response. He released his hold and the third kick you delivered knocked him back as he struggled with the arrow.

You were back on your feet, someone helping you haul yourself upright. You panted, “Kate, you can’t be down here.”

She cut you off, using the edge of her thumb to wipe away a smudge of red at the corner of your lip. “You’re getting your ass kicked out here and everyone else is handling your brother. Your dad’s gross.”

“I’ve been told,” You laughed weakly “Nice shot, by the way.”

“Thanks, babe. Want to win this thing?”

You nodded, watching as he ripped the arrow from his eye, throwing it down with a clang. He stretched up and smiled quietly at the archer, blinking his one good eye. “What are your intentions with my little one?” 

“Well, we’re going to kill you and then… I don’t know, wanna do pizza and a movie?”

“I could go for pizza.”

The man/spider hybrid in front of you sounded off in annoyance. Spit dripped from his pinchers. He rushed forward with tremendous speed and agility. Kate nocked another arrow, watching carefully as you ran towards the man who had turned you into what you were today; scared, and tired, and oh-so hellbent on revenge.

You pushed off the ground, giving yourself leverage against him. The first hit that you landed was at the base of his jaw, cracking away at it. His legs scratched at you haplessly. Kate’s arrow found a sweet spot at the joint of his leg, bringing him down to one knee.

One of your hands gripped at his shirt, ripping the wicked fabric, the other was at his jugular, nails pressing just below his chin. You could feel how fast his pulse was working, the stubble against your fingertips. Just a little pressure and it would all be over. He smiled at you, ghastly and inhuman.

“Do it,” he taunted “kill me.”

Kate was breathing heavily behind you, ready to fire again. When you allowed yourself to glance up at the abandoned building, a constant in the tedious fighting, you could see the silhouettes against the dull moonlight. Peter, Clint, Yelena and Cassie. They watched you carefully.

“You belong to me, Y/n. You’re much too weak to finish what you’ve started.” He licked the blood from his teeth, nearly deerlike. “You were too weak to save Kate. She’s better off without you. Can’t finish one simple-“

You clenched your eyes shut, applying just the right amount of pressure to cut through skin. Blood coated your fingertips, warm against the raging storm. Red washed down the gutters and you let him fall in a pile at your feet.

All of you watched him for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever. You waited for movement, for that last spurt of life that would have you stumbling back. But there was nothing. His mind was finally quiet, as was yours.

“Kate…”

The word was barely audible over the rain, the scent of copper filling the streets. You hadn’t meant for her to see this, to see any of this. Despite the misfortune and the experiments, you still prided yourself on keeping your hands clean. Now they were muddied, in front of an audience, no less.

Her warmth engulfed you from behind, her bow having hit the ground, arms snaking around your midsection. Your legs gave out, a sob tearing from your throat. Kate let you cry, she held you as you shook and fell to your knees, moved with you.

“Shh,” Kate soothed, breath hot on your ear “It’s over. It’s over.”

One Month Later

The keys of the piano felt like home underneath your fingers. Their soft ivory exterior moved with a certain quickness. Each note flowed through the air, wafting between the tables, through the flickering yellow flames and the plates of gravy-soaked lamb.

There was something so simple about music. Each movement told a different story, the waltz of a ghost, the crack of a frozen pond under booted feet, blood soaking into a ruffed collar. The last image made you clenched your eyes shut until they hurt. You saw stars, pressed D-minor with enough vigor to draw a few glances.

Gary watched you from the host stand and you gave him an apologetic smile. You eased your shoulders into complicity. He stopped short of bending his plastic clipboard in half in a feat of misguided strength.

A small breath escaped you. Concerto in D Minor. There was an eerie subtly to the piece that often made you flip to the next one on your roster, but tonight, tonight you allowed yourself to indulge in the deep melancholy.

Silver clinked against glass, and this time, you didn’t bother looking up. You could smell the rosemary and mint as Kate lowered herself onto the bench next to you. The wood creaked and groaned under your combined weight. She watched you for a few moments, listening to the deepness of each note, each stab of the knife that was interluded with the softest of apologies.

“This is quite depressing, don’t you think?”

“D Minor is a beautiful key.”

“Beautiful, yes, but depressing all the same. I think that man over there is crying into his Coq Au Vin.”

You smiled at that. Not the mans tears, or the fact that he was trembling over a dish that was already much too salty for your tastes. It was Kate’s ability to crack a joke, even after you had spent a month avoiding her, avoiding most of the world around you in turn for shifts seated right here.

At first, you chalked up the grieving process. Despite all the bad that he had done, he was still your father. He was the same man that would bait your hooks when the O’Hara’s and the Bishop’s went to their adjacent lake houses. There were distant memories of him drawing molecular structures on the sidewalk with chalk, and even fresher recall of those same structures being used to alter your DNA.

After the first week, holed up in your dingy apartment, Yelena brought you a can of soup. You did not have a can opener or a bowl, which she scolded you greatly for, but eventually sat down cross-legged and spoke to you about guilt.

“It is never easy to take a life, even if the motives behind your actions are good. It will haunt you for a long time, but it will possess you if you board up the windows. Do you understand?”

She left you with the unopened can, a stupid chef smiling at you from torn paper. Your stomach still clenched at the thought of eating so you left it on the counter and crawled back onto the mattress pushed into the corner of the room.

The second week brought the outside world to your doorstep once again. Clint had left a message on your machine, explaining that two S.W.O.R.D agents would be coming by to interview and catalog you as an inhuman. This was in exchange for holding Miguel, a small price to pay for his incarceration.

They too judged your lack of home-décor and cutlery, but their prying eyes felt like a bigger insult. You felt like a stranger in your own home so you finally showered and dragged yourself to the restaurant.

“There was a death in the family. I apologize for my lack of notification. I can start tonight if you’ll have me.”

Gary was not thrilled, but he was even less thrilled about the prospect of listening to auditions for another lunch-hour and settling for a crackling boombox on top of your beloved piano.

The second you pressed a note, the warmth of your first kiss with Kate flooded your body. You’d do anything to keep that feeling- and God, had you fucked up with this universe’s Kate. She had done so much for you, had assembled a team to help you create a home. And yet, shutting yourself away seemed as close as you could get to running.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

The words were a whisper, but she was close enough to hear it and some of the tension in her stance released. When you looked at her, when you finally saw her, you nearly lost your composure. The emotion threatened to gush from your chest. Her eyes looked green in this light.

“Y/n, there is no timeline for grief. I didn’t expect-“She frowned, struggled to pick out her next words carefully. “I lost my father when I was young in the battle of New York, and I will miss him forever. Sometimes the pain is dull, and sometimes it’s the loudest thing in the room.”

You swallowed the cold lump in your throat, grimaced and looked down at the keys. Tears escaped you, creating a sheen that you dipped your fingertips in each time you moved to the next note. Kate’s warm hand found your back, rubbed a gentle circle against it.

“If you ever need someone to help silence it, you know where to find me.”

Kate Bishop lived right across the hall in a dingy apartment building that was overpriced and didn’t have a callbox that worked properly. When it rained, and it did often, the cracks in the structure would leak and the elevator was always out of order.

That night, you finished your shift and didn’t knock on her door. The following night, you stared at the one crack on the ceiling that looked a bit like a face, and a camel, and a monkey and a bird. Your fingers tapped against your chest with each phantom eighth note.

On the third night, however, you allowed yourself to knock on Kate’s door. She tripped over something, a muffled curse coming from the other side of the rotted oak. Though, she had regained her composure by the time she opened the door, her hair in a messy ponytail, strands framing her face.

“Hi,” You breathed.

“Hi” She breathed back.

Your hands gently made their way to the collar of her sweatshirt. She let out a surprised noise that melted into a tender breath as your lips met hers. Kate’s nose was cold, and her hands pressed you close to her, as if she couldn’t get close enough. You kissed her delicately, but desperately all the same, callous fingers tracing her jaw.

“Thank you,” You mumbled against her lips, not noticing the dampness of your cheeks until her thumb brushed tears away.

“For what?”

“For showing me that this is worth fighting for.”

Taglist 💜: @lovelyy-moonlight

[gumnut-logic]

Sweetapple Slices - Slice 2

Sweetapple | Dear Mr Tracy | Along the way | Slice 1 | Slice 2

@idontknowreallywhy asked a question and I tried to answer it, but Alex and Virgil refused to behave, so we have a fic, but no answers. Also, fic is sugary sweet goop.

Oh, and it should be noted that all these Slices are standalone fics within the universe - consider them slices of life with these two :D

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the read through. Again, I might need to offer her that dental plan. Also to @idontknowreallywhy for egging me on.

I hope you enjoy this romantic sugar fest.

-o-o-o-

“You know, isn’t all this stuff secret?” Alex gestured around him.

Virgil shrugged and tilted his head. “You looking to sell it to anyone?”

Alex’s eyes widened. “God, no! I wouldn’t-“

The rescue operative grabbed him by both arms. “Hey, I’m kidding. We know you wouldn’t do such a thing.”

Alex froze. “We?”

Those gorgeous biceps relaxed just a little. “You don’t think we let just anyone onto our Island, do you?” And he arched a lovely eyebrow.

“You have such beautiful eyebrows.”

Both suddenly shot up.

Oh, did he say that out loud?

Eh, blame it on the concussion…from a few days ago now. The Tracy family had shown no sign of needing to kick him, or his mum, off this amazing chunk of rock. Today Virgil was off rota and Thunderbird Two was set for regular maintenance, so he had been asked down here to ‘keep Virgil company’.

So far ‘maintenance’ had consisted of staring up at the great green Thunderbird, staring around her hanger, an extended session of smooching under her tail fin, and now he was sitting on the edge of Thunderbird Two’s co-pilot seat caught between stunned amazement and the percentage chance of another snoggy in the corner.

Any corner. There were at least four in the cockpit. Did that roof hatch open?

Honestly, he had never thought this would be his state of mind when he finally got to see all of this up close.

Of course, it wasn’t the first time he had been aboard Thunderbird Two. But last time had been sudden and unexpected and his brain had been fretting over so many things.

Now he was so happy he was likely to blow a blood vessel or something.

“Yours aren’t bad either.”

What? He scrolled the conversation back a little. Oh, eyebrows. Huh. “Never thought about them much. Yours, however, definitely require thorough consideration.” He reached up a hand, and hesitating for permission, brushed a finger the length of Virgil’s left eyebrow.

Chocolate eyes eyed him from beneath. “This is new.”

Be daring. “All of this is new.” He withdrew his hand.

“You have a point.” As if in revenge, Virgil reached up and brushed a tangle of Alex’s messy blond hair behind an ear. “I can definitely get used to it.”

He also had the most beautiful smile.

Okay, he had to stop this line of thought before he grabbed Virgil and really embarrassed himself.

“Um, yeah.” He gestured vaguely around the cockpit. “How long have you been flying Thunderbird Two?”

Virgil sat back a little and let go of Alex. “Nine years as her primary pilot. Took over from my Uncle in ‘55. Though there has been some downtime during that time.”

“And you keep her maintained?”

“Me and Brains.”

“Who’s Brains?”

Virgil’s lips twisted. “You haven’t met him yet.”

Oh.

“Don’t worry.” Virgil reached across the dash and flipped a few switches. “He tends to keep to himself. I’ll drag him out of his lab later.” His finger retreated to his jawline. “I think you’ll like him.”

“I will?”

“You’ll see.”

Okay, be mysterious.

“Would you like some coffee?”

Alex stared at him. “You’re really asking that question? Even after how many times I’ve managed to steal coffee off of you.”

Virgil smirked as he stood up. “It was really only once and you were very amusing.”

“Amusing!”

Virgil was laughing as he strode over to a corner of the cockpit, hit some buttons, and revealed the holy grail of all coffee.

Alex couldn’t help but stand up and be drawn to it. Virgil had given him the plans to this creation from heaven, but between Siliwrap and Virgil’s visits, he hadn’t managed to find time to finish putting it together yet.

Besides there was something about the coffee being handed to him by a visiting handsome rescue operative that was its own kind of addictive.

And Virgil always brought plenty.

His drug dealer of choice, apparently.

“Hey, you still with me?” A hand was on his arm and Alex realised he had been standing, staring at the holy grail like a stunned mullet just a little too long.

Virgil had that worried medical frown on his face again.

He had done that a lot over the last couple days.

The man had enough bruises on his arms and legs to pop Alex’s eyes out of their sockets - something about a roof almost falling on him during the Gisborne rescue. Yet Virgil brushed it off as a day-to-day thing.

He was ‘fine’, don’t you ‘worry’, happens ‘all the time’.

But the scattering of bruises Alex possessed, the headache that popped up every now and again, and any slight croakiness of his voice and Virgil was all over him with that yellow scanner thing.

Speaking of which…

Alex grabbed Virgil’s wrist gently as he attempted to wave a randomly appearing scanner over Alex’s head. “I’m okay, Virgil.”

The wrist in his hand relaxed and the yellow light switched off. A gentle tug and Alex let Virgil’s wrist go and the man turned away, stashing the gadget back into wherever it came from.

It was very obvious that Alex had scared him by being caught in the earthquake.

Alex took that extra step closer, slipped up behind, and slid his arms around the man’s chest, resting his chin on Virgil’s shoulder. “I’m okay.”

Heavy lifting arms wrapped around his. “I know.”

“You do realise you have brought me into the presence of the machine that makes your glorious coffee. I mean, I should be kneeling on the floor, bowing in reverence.” A smile. “Give me something to hold so I can drop it in amazement.”

Virgil chuckled. “I doubt you could pick me up.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Virgil twisted himself around in Alex’s arms until they were facing each other. “I could say that you already have, but that pun line is groan-worthy.”

Alex did groan, but then Virgil’s lips found his and he was suddenly very much distracted.

Yes, this corner would do nicely.

-o-o-o-

[makethatelevenrings]

Angel By the Wing - Thirteen

my thesis advisor watching me write for hours and none of it is my thesis

Chapter Warnings: canon death

Series Masterlist

“Sofia!”

The sound of your sneakers striking the linoleum tile seemed to echo through the halls, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. You had been doing some cleaning around your apartment when Sofia called you sobbing, saying something about Natasha and Bob in the hospital. You promised her that you would be there as soon as possible and raced out the door.

Jake met you at the gate and climbed into the passenger seat of your car, using his military ID to let you get past the gates once they scanned your vehicle. His face was drawn, brows pinched and lips pursed in thought.

Your hand settled in his and he squeezed once, assuring you that he was fine.

“Sof,” you called once you spotted the brunette. She stood from the chair she was hunched over in and opened her arms just in time for you to collide with her. Rooster stood from where he sat next to her and watched as the two of you embraced.

“She’s okay. They both are. Winded and sore, but she’s okay,” Sofia whispered. Tears poured down her cheek and you raised your hand to cradle the back of her head. “Oh god, she’s got these bruises on her chest that makes me want to throw up.”

“She’s okay,” you repeated. “Nat would look the Grim Reaper in the eye and tell that motherfucker that she has to get home to her wife.”

Sofia let out a wet laugh as she pulled away. You used the sleeves of your shirt to wipe her tears away and then tugged her to sit back down. Bradley motioned for you to take his seat and he went to join the other aviators crowding the waiting room.

“I’m sorry for calling you,” she hiccuped through another sob. “I just needed…I needed someone who knew what it feels like. “Hey, no apologizing,” you chastised. You knew what she meant, though. Someone who wasn’t in the military, who wasn’t up in the air. Someone whose feet were firmly planted on the ground, one ear tuned for the phone in case they got bad news.

“And they’ve got this stupid fucking mission they’re being sent out on which is basically a suicide mission,” Sofia continued. “She nearly died in training and she’s the best so how the fuck is she going to live through the real thing?”

The assurances died in your throat as her words sunk in. This is why the aviators were here, you realized. You instinctively looked over to the group of pilots and found Rooster watching you carefully. How long had he known? Hangman?

Focus. Sofia needed you.

“They’re setting up a cot in her room for me because they’re keeping me for the night,” she said. You nodded along and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling your friend into a hug.

“What can I do for you? Have you eaten recently?”

Sofia considered the question for a moment before sighing. “I haven’t eaten since this morning and now that you mention it, I could eat.”

Pulling away from her, you stood and winked. “I’ll run by the cafeteria and see if I can get you something edible.”

Like moths to a flame, Hangman and Rooster stepped away from the group and followed you as you made your way down the hall. You pointedly ignored the two men as you followed the directions a nurse gave you to the cafeteria.

“Sweetheart,” Bradley called as he jogged to catch up with you. “It was a bird strike, but Sofia said it herself, they’re both fine. It happens. Phoenix trains for this stuff for a reason.”

“It’s not that, Bradley Bradshaw,” you spat as you whirled around to face him. Your finger jabbed into his chest and you glared up at him. Jake joined him, concern painted on his features as he took in your anger.

“When were either of you going to tell me that you’re training for a suicide mission? Huh? Did you really think I wouldn’t care?”

Bradley’s face fell and raised his hands like you were some scared animal and he was calming you down. You shoved his hands away from you and kept walking down the hall. You couldn’t deal with this right now. You needed to get Sofia something to eat and you needed to call Penny and let her know that you might be a bit late and-

Your phone rang and, as if summoned, you spied your boss’s name on your screen. You pressed the answer button and raised your phone to your ear, ignoring the two men speaking to one another behind you.

“Hey Pen, I was just about to call you. I might be a bit late tonight, but I’ll only be an hour max.”

“Honey. Sarah just called me.” That tone. That damn tone. You froze, your heart sinking at the sound of her strained voice. Chairs lined the hallway and you shuffled over to one before sinking down onto the thin cushion.

“But I just saw him.” Your voice came out as a whimper, or maybe more of a whine. The white walls of the hospital blurred in on you, shrinking and compacting and collapsing until you were trapped.

“I’m so sorry,” Penny said. Admiral Kazansky had been her friend too. You pressed the palm of your hand against your eyes in hopes that it would stop the burning tears that threatened to push to the surface.

“I’m sorry too, Pen.”

“I’m not going to open tonight. Sarah’s going to need help planning the funeral. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah.” You looked up into the blinding lights above you. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Hug Sarah for me, okay? And text if you need anything. I’m here with Sofia, but I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Okay. Take care, hon.”

You let your phone fall into your lap and stared at the chipping screen protector. What came next? Everyone always talks about the lead up to death and they discuss the grief that comes after, but what about the in between? What do you do when the body is half-warm and not laid to rest?

A warm hand settled on your knee and you looked up to find blue eyes studying your face. Bradley stood behind Jake, his large form shielding the both of you from any onlookers.

“What’s goin’ on, darlin’?”

You considered speaking the words that scratched and clawed at your teeth and tongue, desperate to escape the cage you had forced them into. Looking into Jake’s eyes, you were violently reminded of your anger that existed before the call.

Here you were, seated in a hospital because your friend needed you after her wife had to eject from a plane and landed in the hospital, sitting before two men who consumed you yet would be setting out for a suicide mission in god knows how many days, and the only father figure you had in your life was now gone.

“Nothing,” you finally said. “Nothing’s wrong. I just needed a moment.”

You pulled away from Jake, physically and mentally. You locked it all down, packed your heart into a box, and stored it on the shelves of the iron-clad rationality of your mind. People needed you. They didn’t have time for you to be emotional.

Keep going, your mom would order. I don’t have time for tears.

Keep going, you scolded yourself. Others need you to be calm.

And then at the funeral, after you laid a small red checker piece on the surface of the coffin and watched as dirt sprinkled across the smooth mahogany, Sarah embraced you tightly and told you the words you had been waiting to hear your whole life.

“He loved you like a daughter and you gave him such peace. Thank you, sweetheart, for being in our lives. You’re stuck with us now.” A small, pain-filled smile flickered across her face and you kissed her cheek, as a daughter does to a mother. 

At what point, you asked yourself, does the grief swallow you whole?

Tag List: @mizzzpink​ @xoxabs88xox​ @dreaminglandsworld​ @khaylin27​ @loveforaugust​ @phoenixssugarbaby​ @atarmychick007​ @mak-32​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @krismdavis​ @emma8895eb​ @startrekfangirl​

[catchyhuh]

What sort of hobbies or interests do you imagine the Gang having (outside thievery or arresting said thieves)? And do they influence the way they go about their usual antics, or are they mostly Unrelated to everything else in their lives? :0c

oohhooohoho this is a good one because i have a small handful of actual canonical hobbies/interests that come up occasionally and then i have the ones that solely exist in my mind palace. at least until tms decides to let a random little shrimp from america take the reins on their most longrunning successful franchise anyway,

lupin:

i can’t remember if i mentioned lupin loves puzzles. wait yes i did in the video game list SORRY I’M ALREADY HAVING TROUBLE REMEMBERING WHAT I HAVE AND HAVEN’T GONE OFF ABOUT but yes in canon lupin LOVES puzzles. less like, jigsaw puzzles, more like shapey puzzles. but hell man if you can get him to sit still long enough he might like a jigsaw one just to pass the time

i think he likes cooking. him, jigen and goemon all seem to really Get it. so count this under all of them, they just love yummy food and occasionally the process of making it too

he likes to draw :) somebody has to be behind all the slightly different variants of his little mascot guy. SOMEBODY has to redraw bank floor plans so they can plan out each tiny step of the heist. somebody has to scribble over his own wanted posters to put funny little devil horns on the image CMON now!!

jigen:

only jigen could be in a fucking arcade theater complex and pull out a fucking crossword puzzle. why is this dude honestly trying to speedrun being a grouchy old man before he even turns 40. i mean no hate, no hate to crossword puzzles, they are cool but i’m more of a wordsearch guy. BUT THERE’S OTHER STUFF TO DO JIGEN!! at least he’s not going for sudoku though

very random but i think he might like sewing in a passive sense. with how particular he is about his hat and really ANY clothes on his person, he probably just picked up a needle one day to fix a tear and then was like Huh. this isn't too bad actually. kinda repetitive and calming. and then the others found out and tried to get him to fix all their stuff too SO HALF PLEASANT AND HALF NOT SO PLEASANT

fujiko:

you may think i’m insane but fujiko must genuinely have some sort of fondness for computers and technology. more than she lets on at least, because. how DO you know how to fly every type of aircraft. how DO you know how to crack into almost any computer firewall? how do you know how to isolate a computer virus as it’s ALREADY corrupted HALF OF THE SYSTEM?? this goes beyond job necessity to me she must really have some hidden underlying passion for this stuff

i think it’d be cute if she took up some kinda journaling. i mean god knows she’s not writing about her FEELINGS in that little leather notebook, and she doesn’t really have the time to commit to like, scrapbook shit (even if she had the time, she’s not sentimental like that) but something simple like “this is a list of m&m variants in order of how disgusting to not disgusting they taste to me <3” with little candy stickers and gel pen hearts drawn in. the next page has a bloodstain on it and the only thing written is “dw about that lol”

goemon:

okay i KNOW i’ve pushed the Arts Enjoyer goe agenda before but i recently saw that part 3 production art again of him chilling with the pottery wheel so i must state, once again, goemon LOVES sculpting shit in all forms. chip away at some rock, throw zantetsuken at a block of wood, actually invest in some clay for fucking once, whatever he uses, he’ll make something pretty good. and even if it wasn’t good it’s still a fun hobby for him. keeps his hands loose but precise

oh my god you know what he would love. dominoes. you know when people make those like crazy long domino strings that form a pattern when they’ve all fallen. if anybody here could have the precision and strangely placed patience to do shit like that it’s definitely this guy

zenigata:

going through this list easily and eagerly typing up little funfacts about things i do know they like outside of their. “jobs” and then slowly realizing as i get to zenigata that i... cannot think of anything he. uh. does for fun. damn. he DOES talk about movies a lil bit from time to time, and knowing his mixture of a freakish eye for detail and also missing the most obvious things ever i bet hearing him talk about a movie is twice as fun as actually watching it. i would pay HUNDREDS to hear him try to explain what he thinks of space odyssey to me

it would be-- i have no reasoning for this but it would be so cute and hilarious if he did like. tiny magic tricks. you know? like card appearing out of thin air, coin behind your ear type shit. tiny stuff he figured out on his brief off time. we know lupin can do little stuff like that too but it'd just be hilarious if zenigata, completely unawarely and unintentionally for once, ended up being better than him at some inconsequential shit like making a pair of keys disappear

and i guess in light of recent discoveries they all like golf. apparently. well. no one is perfect

[viktorshands]

Vampire AU - Part III

Silco x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

WC: 4912

Chapter III:   An Unexpected Intrigue

Author’s note: This chapter (this whole fic actually) is dedicated to my best friend. You are my partner in crime, my co-captain, my chaos and fire and fury. I fucking love you. 

Part I here! Part II here!

“By all means, come in uninvited.” You felt like an intruder at the sound of his voice.

You faltered, scrambling for a sentence, a word, a single syllable. After too long of a time staring at the floor while you felt the embarrassment flush your cheeks you uttered, “I - I’m sorry to disturb you.” You turned, keeping your head down. Your plan to walk out was thwarted as quickly as it was formed by a hand closing the cracked door. A pale hand, a male hand, with long, nimble fingers. 

Your throat tightened involuntarily as you followed the hand, connected to his exposed forearm, the burgundy dress shirt sleeve rolled up to his elbow. You followed the creases of the fine fabric to his torso. The shirt he wore was worn with a deliciously flattering chocolate-brown vest and adorned with a cream colored cravat. Not even a second passed, but it felt like it took an hour to gain the gumption to flick your eyes up to his face. By the gods. 

He was just as regal in real life as he was in the photograph that Sky had found. His presence was mind-emptying and all-consuming. Handsome, far more handsome than could ever be conveyed by words. Your body heated as you looked over his features, drinking in that sharp nose and jawline, the slight downturned scowl of his lips. His dark brown, almost black, hair was styled back with product, the sides tapered but still looked as if they would be soft to the touch. Most noticeable and impossible to look away from was the scar on the left side of his face. It looked like the roots of a plant, long, jagged lines from the top of his forehead down to the edge of his jaw. Just as you were contemplating what could cause such a scar the silence was broken by his smoky, subtly sugared voice.

“Is there something on my face, dear?”

You barely registered the words, and shook your fuzzy head and croaked, “I’m sorry?”

“You’re staring.”

“I’m sorry.” You felt your cheeks flush once again, feeling the heat on the tips of your ears this time. You took a steadying breath in through your nose and instantly regretted it - he even smells amazing.

“I meant to formally introduce myself earlier, but I was caught up with other things.”

“Oh, it’s no worry at all, I was actually unpacking so I was busy up until,” you trailed off, “up until I started wandering, that is.” 

I feel like I’m in a dream. It’s been so long since I’ve had such an issue articulating myself. SNAP OUT OF IT.

“Well how fortunate it is that you found me.”

“Yes.” You averted your eyes from his smoldering gaze, concentrating on a marble statue of a vulture on a nearby display case made of thick glass that contained a vast assortment of aviary items. There were small skulls, talons, quills, and feathers in a range of colors. You finally relaxed enough to organize your thoughts. You released your bottom lip from between your teeth. “I wanted to ask you, actually, about the student? Has she always received private lessons? I’m only wondering because I want to cater to her comfort level, and considering I am used to handling a class full of college-level students, this is a little out of my traditional scope.”

“Ah, I see,” He paused, his lips drawn together in thought and he cocked his head ever so slightly to the side. “Well, Jinx is my adopted daughter. She has had private tutors in the past but,” he winced, slightly, but you still noticed, “they haven’t lasted long. She gets bored all too easily. This is not to discourage you of course if you have certain difficulties keeping her focus.”

He turned from you, starting back to his desk and making you wonder: How did he get to the door from such a distance so quickly? 

Your thought was interrupted by him, “I will say though, when you were telling me your background on the phone I thought to myself that a change of pace, meaning a focus on the arts and history, might be worthwhile.” He reached his chair, but instead of sitting down he stood facing you. His hands beneath him resting on the surface of the dark wood desk. The glow from the small, green-shaded lamp on the desk lit the right side of his face, while the scarred side was shrouded softly. 

You opened your mouth to compliment his appearance, but you caught yourself and said, “Well I’m glad that you took a chance on me.”

“Likewise.” His right hand drummed against the desk surface. “Though I’ll be most interested to see how you and Jinx end up getting along.” He looked again in your eyes, the sincerity there was not lost on you.

You felt those butterflies in your stomach, very faint, but still there. Like I’m jittery for the first day of school.

“I’ve never had too much an issue getting along with my students, so I am looking forward to meeting her.” You paused, feeling the urge to turn off the floor lamp that you turned on when you came in, thinking it was polite to do so before you left. “Thank you again for giving me this opportunity.” You switched the light off with a click.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, miss Y/N.” His voice was low and close by again. He creaked open the door with a quick, fluid-like motion. He nodded his head politely at you, and you thought you saw just a wink of a smile on his lips.

“Likewise.” You whispered before you slipped out the door, not looking back but feeling his eyes on you as you retreated with your metaphorical tail between your legs. 

-

You called Sky through video chat as soon as you got back to your room and flicked on the lights. The afternoon had come and gone, and the sun with it, as it was much later than you realized when you checked the time.

“I’ve been home for hours, it’s about time!” She said as soon as she answered.

“Sorry, I’ve just been unpacking and touring the house.” You flopped back on the bed, kicking off both of your shoes, “You will not believe how enormous this place is on the inside. I wish you could have stayed.”

“Hey, I would have loved to, but I’ve got a full roster of chemistry students to teach tomorrow morning. Lucky you though, you’ve only got one to handle!” She paused, studying your face through the camera, then raising an eyebrow at you, “You met the ‘lord of the manor’, didn’t you?”

You blushed. She laughed in response, “Tell me, is he even better in person?”

Your pulse quickened and you exhaled dramatically, “He is. Aside from being like, stupidly handsome, his presence just completely fills a room. I felt like I couldn’t remember my own name when I met him.”

“Sounds suffocating.” She replied most bluntly.

“Not like that, you know what I mean.” You rolled your eyes. Apparently you were still having issues with your words. 

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” She laughed, teasing, “But remember what I always say about older guys though, they may seem so mature and all that on the outside, but you need to learn what’s on the inside. Old men always seem to be hiding something.”

“You’re right, Sky.” You shook your head, “It’s so easy to get flustered by appearances. Either way, I’m here for one reason, and that’s most important here.”

“Exactly! See? Just keep those priorities in check and you’ll -”

A sudden knock, knock at the door got you sitting up immediately. 

“Just a minute, Sky.” You turned the volume on your call all the way down, stuffing it into your pocket as you padded across the cool floor in your socks. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the vanity mirror and quickly moved around your hair, letting it down around your shoulders. 

You opened the door gingerly to find none other than Silco standing there, looking exactly the same as he did earlier except that a few stands of his hair were loose and the necktie that he wore was gone. There were two, three buttons undone on his burgundy dress shirt, showing just a small inkling of skin. It wasn’t a considerable amount by any means, but enough so that you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from making an unseemly sound. 

“Hello again, um, do you need something?” You drew a blank on any reason that he would be at your door other than maybe to retrieve something, being that this was his home and all.

“I wanted to make sure that you had dinner.” He cleared his throat, “We didn’t have a formal setting tonight, so I had the chef prepare something for you.”

“Oh, yes, that would be really nice actually, thank you.” You smiled at him timidly.

He snapped his finger and one of the house staff rushed past him and into your room carrying a tray complete with a cloche covering the food. You watched her set it down on the desk without a sound. 

“Thank you.” You said it to the woman and to Silco, and you meant it since you had forgotten to eat with all of the events of the day.

“You’re welcome my dear.” That perfect, silken voice of his said to you just as the woman rushed past you again and out the door. He looked into your eyes with an expression that you couldn’t describe. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Your ears burned, and your eyes slowly dropped to the floor as you gently closed the door. As soon as it clicked closed you let out a huge gust of breath and snatched your phone out of your pocket, turning the volume back up so you could hear Sky.

“- but of course, Lord of the manor, please don’t mind that I’m indecent right now.” You laughed, having caught the tail-end of her teasing.

“Sky! You’re embarrassing me.” You chided.

“Please,” she made the word sound like it had several syllables the way she drew it out. “Don’t give me that, especially when you forgot to eat from the sounds of it. Again? Not to mention it sounds like there is a house full of people to wait on you so there’s no excuse, Y/N.”

“I know, I know, I was just caught up in everything that I forgot.” You sighed. 

“I’ll leave you to your dinner, and to your thoughts about Mr. Fancypants.” She giggled and so did you at her dumb humor. “Take care of my best friend, would you?”

“I will, bye Sky.” You smiled, blowing her a kiss before she did the same and ended the call.

You were impressed by the spread after removing the silver dome and getting a slight steam facial. There was a beautifully made-up plate of tender meat with a rich sauce, small fingerling potatoes seasoned with salt, pepper, and - you took a deep inhale - rosemary. Steamed veggies were piled neatly on the plate as well. There was a glass of water, silverware, and a soft navy blue colored napkin. You nibbled from the plate, eating what you could without making yourself feel ill. You couldn’t help it, it truly did feel like the first day of school jitters. You took the tray back to the front of the room, placed the cloche back on top of the food remnants and set it on the coffee table.

You did your usual nightly routine in the bathroom adjacent to your new quarters and felt yourself feel a bit more at ease. Settling back in bed with the glass of water, you popped open your sleep supplement. You’d need all the help you could get, this night was sure to be restless. With all of the excitement tomorrow would bring, and the two run-ins with Silco - you shuddered, stomach flip-flopping just thinking about his name. After setting an alarm on your phone, you clicked off the bedside lamp and turned over, the waxing moonlight providing you a comforting glow as you closed your eyes, picturing him, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

-

Turns out, you didn’t need to set an alarm at all. You were alerted that it was morning by a consistent, albeit annoying, knock on the door. You released a heavy yawn and stretched, calling out with sleep in your voice, “Come in!”

One of the female staff members walked in with a breakfast tray, complete with tea service. She lowered her head as she set it without a sound onto the duvet cover. 

“Thank you.” You said as you observed the silver tray clad with a muffin, tiny sausages, and eggs. It was a relief that none of the food was touching each other on the plate. A small, ceramic bowl was filled with fresh fruit. The silver teapot was steaming from the spout, filled with freshly boiled water no doubt. A tin was next to the teapot and a floral teacup and matching saucer. 

“If there is anything else, please let me know, I will be right outside the door to collect your tray when you are finished.” The soft spoken girl retreated from the room, nodding her head politely at you and making you feel like you were some kind of royal guest.

“Thank you!” You said again, hoping she heard you as the door closed. Not wanting the food to get cold, you ate as quickly as you could. You opened the small tin, pleased with the selection of teas, and selected a caffeinated black tea with floral notes. After steeping the tea, you took the cup off the tray and over to the vanity so you could sip it slowly as you got ready for the day. Before you started changing, you remembered your tray, taking it to the door and opening it yourself. You definitely surprised the girl waiting there, as her eyes went as wide as the teacup saucer before curtsying and taking the tray from you, scurrying away without so much as a sound.

Your phone lit up as you grabbed it off the nightstand with a text message from Sky:

𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁! 𝗕𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝘂𝗰𝗸! 𝘅𝘅

You texted her back:

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂! 𝗧𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻’𝘁 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗜’𝗺 𝗷𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀. 𝗘𝘅𝗰𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿!

𝘅𝗼𝘅𝗼

You dressed, styled your hair, and gathered as large a stack of books as you could carry. You wore a simple, black wrap dress, cut at a flattering length. No jewelry, as was your preference since you tended to fiddle with it too much. Your legs were covered in opaque tights that matched your skin tone, and you had pulled on some thick socks over them to wear comfortably underneath your black heeled boots. Once you had done up the laces you had taken a final look at yourself before hauling the massive set of books with you out the door. 

The butler greeted you with a stoic expression as soon as you wobbled out of the room. The top book fell from the stack, falling to the floor with a clatter that made you cringe. But before you could pick it up, he knelt silently and grabbed it for you. 

“Allow me, madam.” He spoke in a flat tone, not giving any indication whether he was annoyed or elated or somewhere in between. Either way, your arms and shoulders were relieved to hand him the stack of books you carried. “Follow me please.” He spoke evenly.

The two of you walked the length of the hallway, and upon beginning your descent of the grand staircase you blurted out, “What is your name?”

He did not flinch nor pause, he simply said, “Westley.”

“Well, thank you, Westley, for carrying my books for me; And for helping me with my suitcases yesterday as well.” 

“No thanks needed madam, I am pleased to assist anyone who is a guest in the Master’s home.”

You blushed a little at that, but your brain had more questions bubbling up to the surface like effervescence in a champagne bottle. You had to know more about Silco. “How long have you worked here?”

“Decades, though time passes differently around here.” The two of you reached the bottom of the staircase and veered off to the left. You kept in pace with Westley, though he seemed to walk with a faster pace than before as if he was eager to get rid of you.

“What do you mean by that?”

“How is it some folks say? ‘Time flies when you’re having fun’?” The lighthearted words sounded almost foreign coming from his toneless voice, but you nodded along politely. “I would say it’s like that, as it is a pleasure to work for the lord and provide him and his guests with whatever they need.” He stopped in the corridor in front of an open set of antique French doors. 

“This is the study madam.” He walked in first and placed the books, without so much as a grunt, on the otherwise empty light brown wooden desk on the right side of the room. He carefully drew the dust cover off of the coconut brown upholstered office chair behind the desk.

You marveled at the size of the room, it had to be at least two stories tall. This wasn’t just an ordinary study, it was more like a library. Slowly, you stepped forward and in, the rugs on the floor beckoning you. You tracked Westley around the room as he removed other sheets from the furniture, revealing a seating area to the right made up of two armchairs, a full couch, coffee table, and complete with a fireplace. Westley opened the thick curtains on the far side of the room, pulling an actual rope to get them to open. Your jaw dropped but you didn’t care, the windows looked like they were twenty feet high and provided a perfect view of a sculpture garden lit by the morning sun. The bright light flooded into the room like water filling a tub. The warm, golden light cascaded over the grand piano standing boldly near the window and reached all the way to the cases of books that lined the east and west walls of the room.

Though you wanted to run to the window and ogle over the statues outside, you walked further in and to the desk, passing Westley on his way out, sheets in hand. He cleared his throat and closed the door behind him and you had the chance to familiarize yourself with your surroundings for just a moment. So, you circled the desk and spread out the books that he had helped you carry. Your heart began to race as you heard heavy footsteps approaching from the hallway.

You flinched instinctively as the door was kicked open by the most interesting-looking, combat boot-clad girl that you had ever seen. Her calf-length cerulean braids swayed with the motion of her stomping into the room. Short, loose hair poked out in layers all around her face and ears, accentuating her rebellious look. She had a black crop top above a long-sleeve mesh top and black cargo pants. Every stomp she took towards the desk featured a clinking sound with the movement of the numerous buckles, belts, and chains that she wore. 

Interesting. You straighten your posture with your shoulders back and collect your bravery as you approach her. “Jinx?” Your voice was uncharacteristically soft and hesitant, but you were of the concern that a loud noise could possibly set her off. You hated to label someone before you even had a chance to speak to them, but you had gotten into the unfortunate habit from being a long-time teacher. It was a defense mechanism to size up the room so you could mold your teaching style to best fit the personalities of your students.

The girl huffed, crossing her arms in a shield across her chest and blowing a chunk of hair out of her eyes. “That’s me.” She stated matter-of-factly.

Saying to yourself that this may be your biggest challenge yet was an understatement. Even still, you were resilient and eager to break down this invisible wall between the two of you. Thus, you started with a small introduction, “I’m Y/N, I was hired to be your private tutor. I live in Piltover City where I used to be a full-time professor at the university. I like reading, spending time with my best friend Sky, and I am most interested in history and art. I just got here yesterday, but I am excited to learn about you and teach you what I can while I am here.”

She still didn’t look up at you. “Okay.”

It was clear that she was disengaged in the conversation, so you switched tactics. You chose your words warily, “Tell me, Jinx, what have you learned from your tutors up to this point? Actually, tell me what you’ve liked learning.”

She hummed, giving you a side eye through the curtain of her bangs. “I haven’t enjoyed anything. Schoolwork is boring.” Her attention resumed focus on picking one of her chipped nails. “But I guess one thing that I like to do is actually make things.”

“I see.” You mentally rearranged the days’ worth of work you had planned out. “Let's start then with music. Come on.” There was no need to look back to check that she followed, you heard her heavy footsteps. “Have you ever played the piano before?”

“Sure, it’s easy.” She mused, walking past you to sit on the bench. Jinx pursed her lips and cracked her knuckles, then each individual finger as you tried not to wince from the noise of it. She then ghosted her fingers over the tops of the keys, scanning for a note it seemed. Then she hammered out the most dreadful, eardrum-shattering noise. It was not even close to anything that could be considered music to put it mildly.

“Jinx! Hey, hey.” You sat next to her, making her stop, and opened the composition book you had in hand, propping it up on the piano. “Here, let’s try something actually easy.”

“Are you patronizing me?”

“No, no, not at all.” You insisted. “Here, just follow me. We are going to play simple chords.” You set your fingers lightly on the keys without pressing them. “Look, the way my fingers are placed corresponds to the notes on the page, and when you play them,” your three fingers on the keys pressed down and your foot found the sustain pedal.

Jinx squeezed closer to you on the bench, “That actually sounded kinda nice.” Her voice was riddled with disbelief. Still, she matched your finger position on the keys one octave down and pressed.

“Nice, let’s go through a few more chords and then I can teach you the melody, which you’ll play with your right hand.” The minutes gave way to hours, the sunlight from outside pitched the shadows as it moved towards the afternoon, and you mutually decided to break for lunch once Westley brought in sandwiches for the two of you.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent with the other books you brought with you, reading to Jinx and teaching her about the history of the town of Zaun. Surprisingly enough it seemed that she didn’t know a lot of the rich history ties of the town and important figures from the past. Some of what you read aloud to her she seemed exceptionally interested in, considerably so when you mentioned the Great War. She even sat up straight, well, straighter in her seat. 

You were in the middle of telling her about General Vander. “He was the reason for the turning point in the war. Coming from a simple background, people didn’t expect anything from him other than him participating in the war because he was of age and a man. At that point they didn’t allow women to fight, but I digress. You see, he had grown up more secluded than most, and his family raised and trained wolves, they also hunted with them. So, he raised a wolf army, and the oppressive forces were sent all the way back across the river. The pack behavior and hunting abilities of the wolves and soldiers the General trained were no match for the enemy. There were rumors that the wolf army was only active during the night, specifically during the full moon phase, but in my opinion this seems more like speculation.”

“Why is that?” Jinx asked, engrossed by the story.

“Well, because that would mean that werewolves were real, which they’re not. It hasn’t scientifically been proven, so I especially have a hard time believing that something like that is possible.”

“Just because something hasn’t been proven doesn’t mean that it’s not real.” 

You didn’t know when Silco came in since you were facing away from the study room doors, and the sudden intrusion gave you goosebumps. His silken voice ignited a siren inside you even though the words that he spoke were in contradiction to yours. That alone would - and it should have - piss you off under normal circumstances, but this was anything but normal. You swallowed thickly before regaining your ability to question him, “How so?”

“Let’s use the example that you just gave. Werewolves.” He crossed from behind your chair to stand behind Jinx, patting the crown of her azure head twice before settling his hands on the top of the tall armchair. “You can say they’re not real since you haven’t seen them, but how do you know someone hasn’t seen them? Not to mention other creatures talked about in stories over time. Those folk tales must come from some glimmer of truth, don’t you agree, miss Y/N?” 

“I live in the present, so, no.” You shook your head unconvincingly, for no other reason than to be defiant. “I think that myths and fairy tales are just that, stories fabricated over time to trick, to scare, and to enjoy - both listening and telling. I truly don’t think there’s such a thing as a werewolf. Just the same way that I don’t believe in the bogeyman, or -”

“What about vampires?” Jinx blurted out. She had this indescribable look on her face, somewhere between surprise and intense focus, awaiting your reply.

“Uh, probably no -” you interrupted yourself this time, looking at Silco. He was staring at Jinx in a way that made you palms clammy. He looked angry, not like he was going to yell at her or something, but like he was the ‘disappointed’ kind of angry. She was shrunken down in her armchair so much you thought she could have become a part of it. Not willing to bear the silence any longer you spoke, “Is there something wrong?” 

“Nope!” Jinx’s eyes met yours and she sprung up from the chair like she was released from a spell. “See ya later teacher lady!” She left the room in a jingling rush, swinging her arms in a wide circumference around her.

“Should I ask?” You started, an eyebrow raised at Silco, analyzing him again as he stood next to the newly vacant armchair. He wore an ever-so-slightly toned down version of what he wore last night. A dark brown button up shirt rolled up on the sleeves, exposing those damn forearms, tucked neatly into black trousers. Not to mention the ‘pièce de résistance’ of several buttons undone at the top of his shirt. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to focus on pain rather than devouring him with your impious gaze.

He sighed, finally answering your question, “No.”

“Well, she certainly is lively, I will say that at the very least.”

“Jinx has had difficulties warming up to her teachers in the past. She seems to have taken a liking to you, however.” He took two strides towards you and extended a hand. You took it, feeling a tingling in your fingers as you did, and rising from your chair with your book in your other hand. He led you toward the entrance of the study. “Join me for dinner.”  It’s less of a question, more of a plea.

“Sure.” You snuck a glance at him, gods that side profile of his. You were so caught up in appreciating his looks that you didn’t realize you were out of the study and in the hall. You shook yourself from your thoughts, “Oh wait, I need to get my things.”

“Don’t worry about that, my dear, I’ll have it sent back up to your room.” His fingers moved a strand of your hair out of your face and behind your ear. “I will see you soon.” With that he closed the doors to the study, effectively separating you two. You stood in the hallway holding your breath, lips twitching as your muscles couldn’t decide whether to smile or express shock. Eventually you shook your head as you turned on your heels to walk down the hallway, you knew that you’d be daydreaming about him the rest of the afternoon.

-

[found-family-tournament]

Found Family Tournament Round 1 Part 13 Group 62

Propaganda and further pictures under the cut

Color Gang: The Second Coming, Red, Green, Yellow, Blue & Purple

Submissions are still open!

Jessica, Aaron & Erica Slaughter:

They've all been taken in by the House of Slaughter at some point and had to face their worst fears. Jessica was the one who found the young Erica when her parents was killed by a monster and initiated her to monster hunting. She looked after Aaron and her and trained them.

Color Gang:

They all have their own special subset of skills like Blue’s good with plants and Green is very creative and competitive and Red’s good with animals and Second is an all-rounder and Yellow is tech focused esp red stone and stuff and they get into all sorts of japes and I love them

oh boy. inhales

so red green blue and yellow are all stickfigures and they ALL come from a website sso its safe to assume theyve all known each other ever since theyve existed or atleast for a long time HOWEVER the second coming was DRAWN by an animator and wasnt generated from a website . so basically after second came to life they stumbled onto the website and met rgby ,, and I could tell they IMMEDIATELY started getting along together and like oh my god . so much found family energy they give off so much of it and i haven’t even gotten to PURPLE yet so purple’s my favorite btw and ikin tthem but please dont get concerned looks at you awkwardly. so purple actually had parents but his dad kept beating him up harshly in training sessions and after their mom stepped up and tried to stop their dad he literally LEFT i kid you not their dad LEFT and left purple and their mom and YOU KNOW WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED !!!!!! the mom DIED THATS RIGHT SO NOW PURPLE’S A FUCKING ORPHAN !!!!! and then thats where second and the others come in they helped purple with not one but TWO redemption arcs !!!!!!. and even though purple never canonically stayed with the color gang as far as i can tell theyre still found family to me and it was never said that they would NEVER see each other again they can literally still visit each other its still possible . sorry for ranting ijust think theyre neat but uhmmmm purple’s my favorit (really wish i had my other rant from another submission form to add onto tthjs but its late so💔💔)

[dramatic-squirrel]

Daminette December Day 23- Remove

@maribat-calendar-events

I have something to confess" Ladybug told Robin. It was a foggy night in Gotham, the full moon obscured, creating a darkness only penetrated by the interspersed street lamps. "I can't do this anymore."

"‘This’ as in being a superhero or ‘this’ as in continuing our relationship?"

"The latter. I can't continue dating you like we have," she tugged at one of her pigtails. "It's difficult to date someone who I only know with a mask on. I'd trust you with my life but we can't have a life together."

"An ultimatum then. Reveal our identities to each other or break up?" he crossed his arms while thinking about his choices.

"Yeah…" she trailed off. "I don't want it to come to this but… what other option is there? I know your secret identity is a big deal to you, but don't you think I've earned that right by this point?"

“It’s more complicated than that,” Robin paced back and forth on the rooftop. Everything would change once she knew, and he doubted it would be for the better. “Knowing my identity wouldn’t do you any good, you would just come to hate me.”

“I think I deserve the right to make that judgment myself.” He hesitated, his hand moved toward his mask, yet he couldn’t take it off. Ladybug grabbed his hand in hers. “If you’re nervous, I'll go first. Believe me, it’s scary for me too, because I don’t know what you’ll think of the other half of my life, but I want to take that risk. You’re worth it. Spots off.” A pink flash surrounded her and when it abated, Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood in her place.

“I know you…” Robin trailed off as he recalled the person who called herself Marinette. The person he met a few months ago when they both took the same business class. The girl who was always late, running off in the middle of lectures and looked as tired as any of his family members.

“You do? Wow, that’s… kind of expected actually.” He gave her a look of disbelief. “No, I just mean, in stories and movies, the superheroes always meet outside of their costume. It’s like they’re drawn together by fate. At least, that’s probably what Tikki would say.”

“Your mini god right?” He remembered Ladybug mentioning her once. “Where is she by the way?”

“Hiding and eating. The kwami’s are mostly distrustful of other people since the Hawkmoth matter, so it might be some time before she allows you to see her.” Robin nodded in understanding, it was a sentiment he could understand. “That being said, it’s fine if you still want to hide your identity,” she backtracked a bit. “I hope you know that I wouldn’t baselessly judge you on your civilian identity, but if you still can’t trust me that’s fine. It’s fine for now. I just don’t know how long we can continue a relationship like that.”

Robin grabbed hold of her wrists to stop her arms that were flailing around. “You’re right. I do trust you.” He reached for the mask again and this time, without pause, took it off to reveal himself as Damian Wayne.

“Who are you?”

“You don’t know?” They stared at each other, Marinette in confusion and Damian in shock. “How could you not know? We attend the same college class.”

“There are like fifty people in that class. I’m not going to remember all of them.”

“Surely you read the newspaper though. Haven’t you heard of the Waynes?”

“I know of Wayne Enterprises and Bruce Wayne. Are you affiliated with them somehow?” He facepalmed, how could she be this unobservant? Then he shook his head and decided to look on the brightside.

“Yes, I’m affiliated with them. I’m Damian Wayne. I suppose I should be glad you’ve never read anything about my family.” 

“Oh, ok. Well, I look forward to getting to know you, Damian Wayne.” She held out her hand for a handshake.

“As do I, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” And taking her hand, they gave each other a knowing smile.

[rowandekarios]

I’m gonna send this to you in probably ask form b/c I truly haven’t written creatively in over a decade and even then it wasn’t that exciting to begin with. It turned less fluffy than I planned but hey what are you gonna do? I just couldn’t get the scene out of my brain until I wrote it. Also the first poem referenced was pulled from the Forgotten Realms wiki and I liked it.

Rowan and Gale sat in the library of the tower, the winter winds whipping past the windows, the sound lost to the thick curtains drawn to keep the chill out. Rowan almost scoffed at the thought of Waterdeep’s winter being cold - she remembers inklings of winters spent bundled inside and dangerous to leave the house, of air that hurt to breathe. That didn’t stop her from folding herself up into the chair at her desk in Gale’s library, taking notes every so often. As she read the arcane tome, though, she found herself distracted by her companion. Gale sat closer to the room’s fire and with a thick blanket covering his lap to boot, absorbed in his own book.

“Are you studying with me or are you reading something fun tonight, wizardboy?”

Gale, not looking up from his reading, replied, “If that treatise on Abjuration is not holding your attention you need only say as much, Rowan, heckling my reading is not required.”

Rowan let out a groan flopping over the book and desk dramatically, “You would think it would be hard to make literal magic sound dull, but man did this guy make it happen. I do want to know what you’re up to, though. Maybe a quick break will help,” she suggested, smiling cheekily at him from her desk. Gale finally looked up from his reading, anticipating the grin after knowing Rowan for months now.

“Well, my apprentice, I am reading a comparison and analysis on the poem Wind by the Fireside, an apt topic at the moment,” Gale replied with a gesture to the curtains.

“So stuffy wizard poetry? No Volo this evening?”

”On the contrary,” Gale said, “There is some mystery to the poem, as its author and origin is unknown. The only thing that is agreed upon is the evolution of the poem across the centuries, as shown by the many variations of the poem across Faerûn. The passage that is the most well known is as follows,” Gale cleared his throat nearly theatrically and began to recite;

“So as you shiver in the cold and the dark, Look into the fire and seen in its spark— My eye Watching over you.

As you walk in the wind’s whistling claws, Listen past the howling wolf’s jaws. My song Comes to you.

And when you’re lost in trackless snow, Look up high where the eagles go. My star Shines for you.

In deep, dark mine or on crumbling peak, Hear the words of love I speak. My thoughts Are with you.

You are not forsaken. You are not forgotten. The North cannot swallow you. The snow cannot bury you. I will come for you.

Faerûn will grow warmer, And the gods will smile But oh, my love, guard yourself well— All this may not happen for a long, long while”

As Gale recited Rowan was entranced, enjoying the cadence of the poem and Gale’s deep, soothing voice as it rose and fell rhythmically. Her heart warmed as her love of poetry - true poetry not stuffy wizard nonsense - was rekindled. She watched the fire play across Gale’s face, the way it seemed to change his profile with each flicker. Never removing, only enhancing, his strong jaw and sharp nose and he read the poem with all the precision of spell casting.

“Well recited, Gale, who knew you had a performer in you all this time?” Rowan said after a moment, a pause that was enhanced by the storm outside.

Gale scoffed, “I am offended you have been here this long and not noticed my tendency toward theatrics!”

Rowan rolled her eyes, “Take the compliment, Gale, I am very aware of your theatrics. Performing poetry, however, is a skill you had yet to display.”

“Well when you call all of the poetry I keep ‘stuffy wizard poetry’ it does not lend oneself to performing, now does it?”

Rowan grinned and fully put her tome on abjuration aside, inspired by the poetry and the storm, “Would you like to hear my favorite poem?” She offered, side-stepping the goading from Gale.

Gale cocked his head and closed his own book, “Ah yes the eponymous ‘Nevermore’ if I remember correctly?” Gesturing to the staff resting across the desk.

Shaking her head, Rowan replied, “The poem itself is creatively titled, The Raven, but you’ll see where the name comes from soon enough.” Rowan shook her loose curls lightly, correcting her posture from reading to reciting.

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As if someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. ‘Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door - Only this and nothing more.’”

As Rowan continued with the poem she fell back into a beloved cadence, satisfied and proud that she remembered the entire poem, she felt a warming at the feather around her neck. As if the Raven Queen was enjoying the recitation along with Gale, who Rowan noticed had become rapt by the performance.

_________________________________

Truly Gale was delighted and awed as Rowan shared what felt like a piece of her soul, the way she played with the volume and pausing meaningfully. Gale wanted to commit the poem to memory, maybe have it transcribed into a small book along with some of his favorite poems as a gift for the winter holiday, he mused with a small smile. He was soon distracted, however, by the way she looked in the firelight of his study, a comfortable presence that shone and gave life to the room despite her shadowy inclination.

“-Vainly I had sought to borrow, From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Nameless here for evermore.”

Oh, how Gale understood that wish, to ignore the pain and loss in tome after tome. It reminded him of those first six months with the orb, his malaise and despondency near crippling with the loss of his own “Lenore”.

”Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, ‘Lenore!’ This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, ‘Lenore!’ — Merely this, and nothing more.”

The many times he woke with Mystra’s name on his lips, alone and cold in his isolation at the dead of night, was echoed in the poem and Gale was struck at the idea that across planes or worlds there was someone who could capture that suffering. Lost in his musings, Gale didn’t notice a similar longing reaching out from Rowan’s voice.

Rowan also yearned, not for a lover lost, but for a lover at all. She remembered why she resonated with this poem, the yawning emptiness and longing for someone, anyone, she had felt in her past life, echoing in her recitation. She at least was soothed by the fact that now she had someone, if not a lover, a companion in Gale. Despite her crush some days threatening to overwhelm her, she was glad for his company and friendship. She smiled softly at the man for a moment as she continued;

”Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, in there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he, not a minute stopped or stayed he; But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door — Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door — Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore. ‘Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, ‘art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore— Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’ Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’”

Here Gale and Rowan caught each other’s gaze, smiling in acknowledgement of the name and understanding. Gale found himself shaken from his musings at her look, a contained joy at a reference now understood and shared. He continued to be lulled by the cadence of Rowan’s speaking, now enrapt in the story of this lost soul and his raven leaving his musing behind him.

“Till I scarcely more than muttered, ‘other friends have flown before— On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’ Then the bird said, ‘Nevermore.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken ‘Doubtless,’ said I, ‘what it utters is its only stock and store. Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore— Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore, of Never—Nevermore.’”

The pair both wondered to themselves at the potential loss of their friendship; Gale by revealing his folly and Rowan of her deeper feelings. Would the other fly away, as others had before, at the confession? Fortunately for Rowan she was able to push these thoughts away by focusing on her performance, while Gale had no such distraction. Trying once more to push these new melancholy thoughts from his head, Gale refocused on the current moment here and now with Rowan. The purple in her hair still gave him a small thrill, and it caught in the firelight teasingly; there one moment and gone the next as she moved her head with the passion of her performance.

“‘Wretch’ I cried, thy God hath lent thee— by these angels he hath sent thee, Respite— respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!’ Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’”

If only he could forget his Lenore, Mystra a love and weight across his chest. He longed to be able to give his whole being to Rowan— and suddenly Gale was struck by that thought. Did he want Rowan in that way? To love and be loved by her? While his physical desire was obvious to himself, Rowan was beautiful and beguiling, Gale pondered on the idea of true love and companionship with his friend.

“‘Be that word our sign in partin, bird or fiend’ I shrieked, upstarting — ‘Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’

Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’

And the Raven, never, flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting, On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, And the lamplight o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadows that lies floating on the floor, Shall be lifted — Nevermore!”

Rowan let the silence and the wind hang once more at the end of her recitation, before Gale started to lightly applaud. Gale grinned as he clapped, and Rowan was wrested from the trance like state she had found herself in, during the last stanzas.

”Beautifully done, and I understand why it is your favorite; the imagery, longing, and at times downright spooky writing was only enhanced by your love of the work, and of course the irony of your Matron,” Gale praised and appreciated the flush of Rowan’s cheeks at his applause. ”Now I was wondering, would you mind clarifying some of the unfamiliar, and likely specific to your world, concepts?”

Rowan grinned at Gale’s ceaseless hunt for knowledge, “Sure Gale, I’m glad you liked it.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment, a smile shared, and Gale said softly, “I deeply enjoyed it, especially from your voice,” the pair shared a moment of quiet companionship, both appreciating the other’s existence in a wordless reverie. After a moment Gale shook himself before continuing in his normal tone, “Now I am assuming this December you spoke of is a time of year?”

Rowan chuckled as she started to explain each Earthism and the wind blew outside, both heedless to the storm around them and delighting in each other's company.

hey I want you to know this sent me into sobbing convulsions in the bathroom at work like holy fuck.

There are no words that can fully articulate my gratitude and appreciation for what you’ve shared with me, what you’ve written for me.

I’m going to start writing again.

Thank you (: