#i love her walk its almost more threatening than some of the killers who run at full speed

[tequilamoonrock]

// i know some people aren’t happy with the new chapter update but honestly i really like it!!! i think the new killer looks super cool and her power is really fun - it definitely works better on indoor maps where you can trap commonly used areas. PLUS the new survs are super cute do not be surprised if thalita enters my muse list very soon!!

the main thing i thought was underwhelming was honestly just her mori, and even then i like it - i just wish it wasn’t a carbon copy of freddy’s tbh

ALSO the update to macmillan’s estate????? is so fun????? i got a match there and immediately started exploring and i hid among the mannequins and the killer found it funny enough she didn’t immediately kill me

[kai-writes-fan-fiction]

In Hiding Part 6

Author’s Announcement: Hey guys! I really appreciate all of the recent feedback and the patience. My life has been pretty hectic these last few weeks, so as a reward for your patience, this is the longest part yet, and I’m really proud of it! I hope you all enjoy it!

P.S. Doctors scare me so sorry if the “medical” part of the story is shitty.

Word count: 2567

Warnings: mentions of blood, bodily harm, non-consensual medical treatment, reader is StRaNgLeD, tiny OCD routine, slight language, non-descriptive violence, and grammatical/spelling errors.

The Avengers were everything you hated. They were destructive, they took whatever they wanted without a thought about anyone else, and they loved behind a façade. You’d seen who The Avengers truly were; they were menacing, inhumane, and lacked empathy. They could’ve just left you alone; you weren’t hurting anyone. You may have been doing some illegal things, but they were minor offenses! You’d never killed, and you were against terrorism of any kind. You just wanted to go home, wanted to be left alone. Your freedom had been stripped away after you’d made your final decision. You wouldn’t fight with The Avengers; you’d do everything in your power to get away from them.

You looked up from the floor of your cell, into the eyes of Steve and Bucky, and you could tell they knew what was coming next. You were stronger than them; you could easily overpower them. They’d seen it earlier when you grabbed their wrists, and every second you sat in that godforsaken cell, you became more immune to the effect of the material blocking your powers around you.

You intimidated them, and you knew it. You knew that your time in this compound was running out, and soon you’d be free. Free. Free. Free. Free. You repeated the phrase in your head five times to lock it in.

You felt that you were ready to share your decision. “I’d never fight for you people, never. Never. Never! NEVER! NEVER!! You people are killers; you take everything for yourselves! You’ve destroyed cities, taken the lives of so many innocents. How can you live with yourselves?” You yelled. Your eyes had begun glowing, and your hair was lifted off of your head as your volume increased. “How?!” You questioned, your eyes shining brighter.

Steve and Bucky were backing into corners of your room, staring down at you. A blue aura began to form around you, illuminating the room in a vibrate blue. Your crossed legs began to levitate off of the ground, and a strong wind began to sweep through the room in a circular motion.

You didn’t want to fight, this trick took all of your energy, and the two super soldiers were helpless, so you decided this would be the perfect time to escape.

As soon as you turned to the wall farthest from the room, which you hoped would lead outside, a particularly strong wave of fatigue hit you. The wind and your aura began to dim, but Steve and Bucky knew not to lunge at you yet.

A string of mumbled curses fell from your mouth, and you let your feet descend onto the ground. This might conserve your energy so you could put more into escaping this wretched complex.

Being back on the ground and looking less powerful, Steve decided to go for it. He jumped forwards and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you into him; you could only wiggle your hands.

Lifting you off the ground, he tried to make it so you couldn’t use your feet as any leverage.

“Fucking dick!” You yelled, thrashing in his arms.

“Language!” He yelled.

You’d had enough of his bullshit and began thrashing more. His grip only tightened, but you were still stronger. There was a vent located right above you, so you flew out of his arms.

You tucked your legs into your chest after he tried to reach out for them and stretched your arms, reaching for the vent. You swiftly pulled it off its hinges and forced yourself into the circulation system.

The tunnels weren’t dissimilar to a maze, you tried to go in one direction, but after 20 or so corners, you have turned around. The alarms blaring throughout the compound, warning everyone of your escape, were bringing about an awful migraine, and you were becoming more and more fatigued by the minute. You wouldn’t stop, though.

You had heard a few voices in the tunnels with you, as well as footsteps. You made sure to avoid them, and after 10 minutes of wandering through the ventilation, you found an air vent to the outside. You pushed hard, and with the last bit of strength you had left, the vent became dislodged. You tumbled out and plummeted about two stories before hiding the ground with a painful ‘thud.’

You crumpled into a ball on the grass, and you felt blood trickle down your forehead. You could also no longer feel your right foot, meaning it was broken. Everything hurt, but your ribs were also a very obviously damaged part of your body. Every time you moved, you felt a shooting pain.

You slowly sat up and wiped the blood from your face, and the amount of blood on your hand was startling. You looked around other parts of your body to assess the damage and found that your knees and elbows were also bloodied, as well as a few scrapes here and there. You lifter up your blue scrubs to get a better look at your side, where a wide purple and blue patch was starting to form. Hesitantly, you placed two fingers on your side, looking for anything broken. The shooting pain was the response, and you pulled your hand away. It was most likely broken, as was your right ankle. It was also a swelling purple and blue mess, and the pain was begging to hit.

You let your eyes fall away from your body to look at your surroundings. You were greeted by vast green forest on all sides, and behind you stood The Avengers compound. It loomed over you, and you could still hear the alarms blaring from the inside. You struggled to get up, and, to no avail, did you.

So, you lay on the ground, your tribulation had failed, and you were doomed once more. You tucked yourself into a ball and cried.

‘How could you be so weak?’ You thought to yourself. ‘How could you let people like the Avengers-like HYDRA-control you like this?’

It would be best if you found somewhere to hide, and quickly. You wouldn’t let The Avengers control you anymore. You couldn't.

You pushed yourself up, so you were on your hands and knees, but you were weak, and I’m so much agony. You kept pressing on, though. You crawled your way to the forest and let yourself fall behind a tree. You must’ve hit a tripwire or a perimeter alert, as a new set of sirens went off and an automated voice yelled your location. You cursed, but you couldn’t go on much longer. With your injuries and your temporary inability to shift, you had to surrender.

—————Avenger POV—————

“We’ve got a location!” Tony yelled through the team's comms. “Kid’s headed East, and it looks like she’s stopped behind a set of trees. I can see her on cams.”

“Who should we send out there? You saw what she did to Steve and Bucky.” Implored Natasha.

“She looks pretty tired. We could probably take her if we needed to, but I don’t think a fight is in store.” Bucky advised.

“How about we all just go out there?” Steve added sarcastically.

“Oh yeah. Good idea, capsicle.” Tony agreed. “Everyone grab your things and meet me in the common room; we’ll all go out and surround her. Bucky, Steve, you go from the East. Natasha and Clint, you guys, take the North. Strange got here a few hours ago, so he and I will take the West. Loki, you’re just going to ignore me, so Thor, go with him and make sure he doesn’t do anything rash. And Bruce? You stay inside; we don’t want a code green, big guy.”

‘Okay’s and ‘mhm’s sounded through the Comms, and three minutes later, everyone was gathered in the common room, looking at one another surreptitiously, not knowing what would greet them on the other side of the doors. They didn’t know whether or not you’d be putting up a fight, but they were about to find out.

“We’re all here? Let’s go then.” Tony commanded. His suit's helmet fell over his face, and he strode forward, everyone else in close pursuit.

—————Your POV—————

You were weaving in and out of consciousness, and you still lay crumpled on the ground in your ball. You felt weak, and you couldn’t think straight. The world was a spinning vortex, and you almost thought you heard voices and feet. You opened your eyes and were met with the face of Tony once more.

SNAP! SNAP! In your face again, but with metal fingers instead of flesh. Tony likes snapping, it seems. You, however, did not. You attempted to growl to ward him off, but you couldn’t produce any kind of sound.

You turned your head slightly to face the rest of the team. They towered over you, weapons drawn and aimed at your face. Typically, you wouldn’t fear them, but in your fragile state, they were pretty threatening.

This wasn't very pleasant. You, one of the most powerful enhanced humans ever, were lying on the ground, bloodied and broken, at the will of The Avengers. They stared down at you, pity written all over their faces. Pity, not a feeling you wanted to be affiliated with.

Two metal arms reached out and wrapped around you, hoisting you up. A sudden rush of adrenaline caused your limbs to begin thrashing about, and the pain from your ankle and ribs subsided. Your sudden movement caused the metal arms encasing your body to pull you closer to the body they attached to. You felt the metal chest and put two and two together. You were in the mostly impenetrable arms of the Iron Man.

Tony picked you up carefully and began walking back into the compound, and the team followed suit. You tried to summon the adrenaline once more, but it didn’t want to come.

Feeling completely vulnerable, you decided to surrender. Yes, it was the cowards’ way out, but did you have another option? Your body was giving up on you, you couldn’t use your powers, and your opponents happened to be the killers of Thanos, another very powerful being.

There was no hope, so you just closed your eyes and allowed the sleep that had been creeping up on you to take over. Your vision faded into black, and the last thing you remembered was the mechanical hum of the Iron Man's suit.

——————————

You awoke to quiet chatter, and a beeping machine you could only assume was a pulse monitor.

As soon as your eyes fluttered open, your senses were flooded with a bright white and the smell of rubbing alcohol.

You looked up from your supine position to find yourself strapped to a table once more, but stronger and additional restraints were added this time. You still felt weak, and your side and ankle were aching, as well as your head.

An IV was embedded in your forearm, and as your eyes traveled the length of the tube up to the bag supplying it, you found it contained a thick blue substance. It must’ve been combating your powers because you couldn’t shift.

You took in your surroundings and found various members of The Avengers watching you. Creepy.

“Welcome back to the land of the living (Y/N).” Chuckled Tony, “You gave us quite a scare.”

The rest of the team went silent, and Bruce, dressed in a white lab coat, whipped around to face you and ran to your bedside. He whipped out a flashlight and shoved it in your face, his fingers following to hold your eye open while the flashlight shined in.

“Pupils are dilating, so no concussion.” He hummed, moving to your other eye.

He moved to pull a stethoscope from his neck and pressed the bell to your chest. You bit your tongue to stop from yelling out when the cold metal touched your bare skin. You must’ve bitten it when you fell because you sensed a metallic taste in your mouth. Bruce was in spitting distance, so you let the blood and saliva pool in your mouth, and you prepared to launch it towards him.

As soon as he lifted his head, you released your spit bomb. Bruce recoiled and began incessantly wiping his face with gloved hands. A hand flew around your neck, preventing you from spitting again.

Blood dribbled down your chin, and you looked up to the face the hand belonged to. It happened to be the winter soldier, and you grinned up at him, blood coating your teeth. He stared you down, and you did the same. The rest of the team just stood by, wearing “What The Fuck Just Happened” expressions.

Bucky finally released your neck, and Banner walked back over, blood-free and with duct tape.

“Shouldn’t have done that.” Tony mocked from behind Bruce as he and Bucky taped your mouth shut.

You tried to shake him off, but your movements were no use. Barnes had a firm grip on your head that prevented you from thrashing about, and Bruce was wrapping your face.

‘Duct tape is the best they can do?’ You thought to yourself. ‘Do they know that duct tape loses its stick when wet?’

You laughed to yourself, and Bruce and Bucky ceased their actions and looked up at you, as did the rest of the team.

“What’re you laughing about?” Bucky snarled.

You only shook your head and rolled your eyes. If they didn’t know, why tell them?

Banner ripped the tape and stepped back. Bucky released your head, and you stared up at the ceiling, hoping they’d all leave.

“The rest of you can go. Bucky, you stay here. I need help controlling her.”

“You got it, Banner.”

The rest of the team reluctantly left, leaving you, Bucky, and Bruce. You looked over to them and stared them down with undeniable murderous intent.

“So, uh, what’re we doing next?” Bucky turned to Bruce, who was still staring you down.

Bruce snapped out of his trance and looked over to Bucky. “She’s still got some injuries from her fall; I need to check those out. Do you have any medical training?”

Bucky nodded. “A little bit, from when I served. Just basic stuff.”

“We can work with that.” Bruce crossed his arms and walked in the direction of your injured ankle.

You tried to get away, but the power suppressors and restraints prevented you from doing anything, so you just wriggled around uselessly.

Banner pressed two fingers to your swollen and bruised ankle, and you bit your tongue to stifle a muffled scream. He moved his fingers to another part of your ankle, and you hit your head against the table to suppress another outcry.

“Bucky, can you grab some Ace bandage? I think the Talus is fractured. We’ll need an X-Ray to make sure, but I doubt she’ll cooperate.”

“I can make her, or we could try sedation.” Bucky offered.

Bruce seemed to rather like that idea, as his brows raised, and he procured a metal syringe.

Forcing it into your arm, you let out a muffled, yet surprised yelp. Immediately after the syringe was removed from your arm, your world began to darken, and you became dizzy.

You tried and failed to resist, but your body gave in, and the last thing you saw was Bucky and Bruce watching you.

To be continued…

Taglist: @oldtrashbin @fleurlovesbucky @hopefuloperaangelnerd @sevenmorningstars @dev-loves-siri @cinematicfanatic123 @sweetpeaflower01 @kinny-away @mangobangi @cumulonimbus34 @oakiedokie @coollemonsaresour @screechingshepherddeputygoth @trinity-1002107 @padmoonyfeorge @laurenced1l @vaaalexandra @big-galaxy-chaos @thoughtsdrought-blog @the-nonsenseblog @inlovewithjohnmulaney

@play-morezeppelin @hi-i-1 @ohashley101 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @marvelfansworld

[yelenasdog]

heavy is the head that wears the crown (mob!arvin russell x fem! pastor’s daughter! reader)

genre: angst+fluff

summary: arvin had always heard the saying “heavy is the head that wears the crown” but never truly understood what it meant. not until now

words: 4.06k

warnings: since this is based off of a tdatt, family death, mentions of death, mentions of mobs, kissing, marriage, murder, smoking, suicide, cancer and i think that’s it. it’s also kinda melodramatic, and i haven’t watched tdalt in a while so a lot could be plot inaccurate also idk anything abt the mob or mafia so like dont k*ll me thx i just like joe pesci

a/n: first, i owe the amazing concept of mob!arv to @kelieah ! so go follow her for more mob!arvin goodness!! basically i’m obsessed w 90s mob movies and watched goodfellas and casino and few too many times lately and oops here we r! i tried to write this from the narrator in tdatt’s view, so if u wanna read it like that then cool! btw the pic w the dress is just an idea of the dress reader is wearing not what she looks like! ok enjoy i’ll stop rambling

·。·。·。

“So, Arvin. I was told you paint houses? That true?”

Arvin hesitated, opening his mouth and closing it again. He wasn’t a painter, no, he killed people. For a price, that is.

But rather than saying no, the jab in his side from his uncle told him to answer otherwise.

“Yes, sir. It is.”

The Pastor nodded, taking a drag from his cigar, imported all the way from Cuba. He then placed what was left of the long stick in the crystal tray in front of him, the tapping of it on the reflective surface seeming almost deafening.

“Can all your family be traced down to one place, son?”

Arvin gulped, avoiding his eyes, darting his own around the heavily decorated room. Another jab to his side. He winced, meeting the older man’s eyes. He may not know much about the life he was about to enter, but he knew enough about what that meant.

“Yes, sir. They can be, minus my father and my mother. They’re gone.”

Not even a full beat of silence later, the Pastor spoke.

“How’d he die?”

Arvin was taken aback, though he knew that question was coming. His jaw clenched, as did his fist by his side. If the Pastor noticed, he didn’t speak on it, barely lifting his eyes from the document resting on his desk.

“Suicide, after the war.”

“And your mother?”

He took his lip in between his teeth, feeling the skin break, the tears well in his eyes for reasons he would excuse as the pain he was inflicting.

“Cancer. It happened when I was young, I didn’t barely even know her.”

The pastor looked up, slimming his eyes. This time he did notice the glimmering droplets, welling up in his chestnut colored eyes, threatening to fall. He appreciated the boy’s attempt to keep his emotions in check in front of his would be superior, leaning back into his chair.

“It’s alright, boy. You’re allowed to cry, it was your mother.” His southern accent was thick like molasses, his words drawing out. Arvin still felt that it wasn’t acceptable, though, so he only sniffled and directed his chin further up towards the ceiling. He stood there for a while, nerves running through his every cell. It was electric, like white lighting making its way through his veins at a painstakingly slow pace.

“Right then.”

The pastor stood, walking towards Arvin and his uncle. His expensive loafers tapped along the cold floor as he went, the sound pestering to the ears of Arvin, taunting him. He reached a soft hand out, which the boy standing opposite to him gladly took. He observed how the Pastor’s hand was without scars, calluses. Anything that would point to evidence of him being a killer, doing his own dirty work (or “the Lord’s work” as he liked to put it).

“Welcome to the family, son.”

And as Arvin smiled widely and shook his hand with an iron grip, he began to wonder what his new life would entail doing the “Lord’s work”.

He thought he had a pretty good idea, but boy, was he wrong.

“So, how’d it go?”

It was later, and Arvin was sitting with one his most favorite people, Y/n. The pair were resting in an open field, the wildflowers around her just almost competing with the beauty she held. He bashfully looked to the dirt under his shoes, noticing how only inches away, her hands picked at the damp grass.

“Went well, I think. He told me I’m ‘part of the family now’.”

She smiled at him, and in that moment with her hair so widely astray, and wearing that pale blue dress he adored so much, Arvin’s heart felt a certain emotion he hadn’t necessarily felt for someone at this multitude before. He had felt it for Lenora, his mother, his aunt and uncle. But it was different, then. Because now as he sat with her by his side, his love for her was realized at its full potential.

She began to ramble on, congratulating him on becoming a member of her father’s so called “family”, telling him how proud she was. He couldn’t keep focused on the sweet words that were falling from her lips like honey, though, as he was too caught up in his own head, his own thoughts.

“Arv?” She asked, voice laced with slight concern, but mostly with curiosity.

“Sorry, darlin’. Just thinking.”

She blushes, it’s the first time he’s called her that before. She tries to carry on conversation, though with her heart beating through that pretty dress of her’s, it was a bit difficult.

“About what?” She questioned, doing her very best not to pry too far, to be invasive in the very reserved Arvin’s mind.

Truthfully? He was promising himself that he would marry her one day, make her his wife. But telling her that he was only thinking “‘bout the future” would have to do. I mean, truthfully, he really was!

So he answered her, and she was content with said answer, abandoning the subject and returning to many praises for Arv. The standards for the “family” were high, and though she believed in him fiercely, she knew that at his core Arvin was the sweetest soul she’d ever met, and she was skeptical he could put that aside to do whatever the job would require.

“Arvin?”

He looked up, and she nearly lost her breath. It was Arvin’s sunkissed skin, tanned from working under the hot sun, the beams beating down on him. Or perhaps it was the freckles that lightly dusted his crooked nose, like a constellation from the cosmos above. Maybe even it was the mop that sat on his head, the color all the same of those sweet brown eyes of his. Whatever it was, she felt it could only mean one thing.

Y/n Y/l/n was confident she loved Arvin Russell.

“Hmm?” He asked, tilting his head like a confused canine. Adorably endearing, she thought.

And though she had much to say, she was afraid that if he were the dog in question, then the puppy had got her tongue, so to say.

“Y/n/n?” The boy said, nudging her with his elbow, making a melodious giggle erupt from her chest. “What, cat got your tongue?” Arvin teased, and she only shook her head and smiled, as he had no idea how correct he really was.

“You could say that.”

The two shared laughs over the exchange, and at some point (neither of them are quite sure when, how, or who leaned in first), their lips connected in a short and sweet kiss. It seemed that it only lasted for a moment, and as soon as they pulled apart, Arvin and Y/n both were dying for more.

But they resisted, Arvin reaching out a cautious hand to entangle with hers. She bashfully grinned, as did he (though he did his best to resist).

“Y/n, I really like you.” He had said, his thumb running small circles upon her skin. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you like me too.”  He laughed, nervous notes to the sound.

“And well, I was wondering if you’d like to be my girlfr-”

And with a light groan, Y/n had wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing both of them to the ground. She connected their lips, the kiss so oddly blunt, an attack on his lips that he had no plan of fighting off. His hands found her hair, and her’s moved to the sides of his face, holding him so tightly, as if she was afraid he would let go.

“Yes.” She pulled away panting, her lips swollen, his flushed. “Yes, I’d love to be your girlfriend, Arvin.”

They smiled as bright as the setting sun above them, and Arvin pulled her close as she buried her face in the warm crook of his neck. They stayed like that ‘till the sun went down and the stars came out of hiding, the cool summer breeze blowing around them. They both still felt it, then, the love they had only just began to realize was there. And they would continue to feel it for years to come.

Like when Arvin would get back from a job, sometimes with blood splattered on his crisp white shirts, his dirty work getting, well, dirty. She would slowly peel it from his body, taking care to make sure he wasn’t hurt. She would do her best to wash the crimson stains from the fabric, sighing if it was seeming to be of no use. Arvin would come up behind her where she was working at the sink, wrapping his strong arms around her middle and resting his head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Arv,” she would start, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face, “damn thing won’t budge.” Arvin would just chuckle, reaching up a gentle hand, gentle only for her, to tuck the hair behind her ear, quietly speaking.

“Well I think it looks pretty good, darlin’. It’ll do just fine.” He would spin her around to face him, and pepper small kisses on her skin, smiling at her reaction. And if he was hurt, she would take care to use a warm washcloth, wiping the scarlet splatters from his creamy complexion. 

The juxtaposition of the shades was always bewildering for her, oddly beautiful in a way. She never said so, though, only muttering praises of how proud she was, how strong he is, things like that. And Arvin would watch her, honey colored eyes following her as she moved about to fix him right up. No pain would have any real effect on him, not when she was there to reassure him, make him whole again.

As Arvin moved up in their small town world, in the “family”, he remained just as kind, just as gentle. Nothing really changed, no, only the lines on his forehead deepening and the crows feet becoming darker when he smiled; And Y/n’s role, as well. She stopped cleaning him up, stopped trying to rid his shirts of bloody reminders of his living. Arvin seemed to no longer be “painting walls’, but rather making sure jobs were done, everyone was staying in their places.

And things led to another, and all of a sudden Y/n and Arvin were moving into a big house, bigger than Arvin had ever even been in before. Deals and arrangements were made, settlements too.

One regular Tuesday, Arvin came home from what Y/n could tell had been a long, long, day. He was exhausted, but had this unmistakable look of excitement and joy plastered to his face. He had come in bursting through the door, not even taking off his hat or overcoat before making his way over to Y/n and kissing her silly.

“Well hello to you, too, Arv.” She laughed, amusement and curiosity both equally swirling around in her brain, wondering what could possibly have inspired this behavior.

“Things are happening, sweetheart, good, good things.” He took her hands in his, briefly shaking them before planting a kiss to them and walking away, a big smile on his face. And truth be told, not that she would admit it, it scared the Hell outta her. She wasn’t quite sure as to why, but something was itching at her brain, warning her that whatever was brewing wasn't a good thing. But nevertheless, she maintained her grin, painted lips never faltering.

The next day, when the “good things” were supposed to be happening, Arvin was seriously wondering why on God’s green Earth he had expected this to be easy.

“Come again, son?”

Arvin swallowed, shifting on his feet. He mentally scolded himself for ending up in this position again, standing in front of the Pastor’s desk, all kinds of confused. But it had to be this way, it was for the best, he knew. The sun shone through the window above the desk in front of him, right into his eyes, nearly blinding him. The Pastor didn’t really care, though.

“I’m asking for your blessing to ask Y/n’s hand in marriage, sir.”

The older man slowly nodded in understanding, taking a long drag from the expensive cigar between his fat fingers, the gold ring on his pinky also shining brightly under the harsh sun’s light.

“I just thought that after our arrangement-”

“Arvin, I don’t regret making you an heir, I don’t.” He stated, blowing out a long stream of smoke. “Hell, I can feel something big and bad coming, boy, you understand? I know God’s will is holding out on us, on this family. But it’s running thin.”

The young man clenched his jaw, internally cringing on what that might mean to the family, for the family, what it meant for Y/n. He bit his tongue, feeling the iron seep onto his taste buds.

“And I know those damn Teagardins are plotting, they’re plotting for our downfall. Making you next in line is something they won’t see coming, and I trust it’ll stay that way. But I don’t quite understand

“Well I love your daughter, I love her so much that it hurts. And if worst comes to worst…” he stopped, his bottom lip wavering for a moment, trying to carefully dance around the different outcomes of this conversation. “I feel I’ll be better able to protect her if we’re married, if she’s truly mine.” That part might have been a lie. Y/n has never been his, never would be. She was her own person, outside Arvin, outside the family. It was what he loved about her above all else.

The Pastor was quiet for a moment contemplating his response, calculating it.

“Would you die for her?”

“Yes.” The answer came without thought, it was automatic for Arvin.

The Pastor smiled widely, lifting his arms.

“So, when’s the wedding, Arv?

Turns out, it was exactly a year, a month, and 6 days until Y/n and Arvin would tie the knot. Arvin had spent time, waiting to find the perfect moment to ask her the big question. He had decided on a night where the moon was bright and the sky was clear. They sat together in what they had donned “their” field, the greenery around them rustling in the wind. Though he was nervous, he had delivered a stunning speech that had taken poor Y/n’s heart by force. It ended up with both of them crying like babies and a shiny ring on Y/n’s finger.

The wedding itself had taken place on a beautiful summer’s day, and Y/n had worn a pretty white dress that had made Arvin almost faint when he saw her, standing there on her father’s arm. She was all decked out in the most expensive diamonds and pearls, courtesy of her father, making her shine like a crystal of sorts.

It was the best night of her life, Arv’s too. But the joy they had felt must have an inevitable end, as the worst night (Arvin’s too) was soon to follow.

It had been an ambush, the death of the Y/l/n family. The death toll had managed to wrack up every member immediate member of the esteemed mob family, including the Pastor, his wife, and their two sons. A bomb planted in the trunk of their Cadillac that had gone off, placed there by who knows. 

When Arvin had heard, his immediate reaction was to thank God that Y/n had decided to stay with him that day, to go lay in the fields just the two of them. Immediately after she had been told, she had fallen into Arvin, her entire body weight being put into his arms. Sobs wracked through her frame, her tears dampening Arvin’s yellow button up.

Once she had “come to”, Y/n had grown to be furious rather than sad. As when you look at the lineage of her family, look at the ranks of the mob and who’s to rise to power when the one in front of them dies, well Arvin was right after Y/n’s big brother, Jamie.

And Y/n had loved her big brother, she had loved him very much and would like to believe that Arvin, her sweet, sweet Arvin, would never do anything of that multitude just to satiate his hunger and appetite for power. The hunger for power she wasn’t even aware he possessed. But how in the Hell was she even supposed to be sure?

“I want to believe you, Arv, I do. But I can’t! It don’t make any damn sense, Arvin!”

“You really think that low of me, Y/n/n?”

Y/n had been shouting, trying to confront him for a crime he hadn’t committed. But Arvin was calm as he spoke, his eyes only watering and his voice only bordering on wavering. Y/n reached a trembling hand to her scalp, pulling lightly on her roots. The tears slipping down her face were hot and salty and she hated it so much.

“What else am I supposed to think?” She lifted an arm, sniffling before putting her other one on her waist, the blue of her dress, the same dress Arvin adored so much, just barely matching what was to become of her mood. She was started to regress, the red hot anger from before transforming to a stormy blue of unsure waters.

“My whole family is dead, and it just so happened that you asked me to stay with you the day they died! My whole family is dead!” She screamed, her voice a crescendo of sorts. “And everyone is clean, Arv, except you. You got the motive, you got the alibi, I’ll give you that much.” She paused, briefly wiping her nose and looking to the blank wall to the left of her father’s office. “It’s funny;” she dryly chuckled, and Arvin looked up.

“You went from doing my daddy’s dirty work to gettin’ some poor bastard to do your own. Ironic isn’t it?”  

Arvin stepped towards her, pain twisting his insides up to see his best girl afraid of him, cowering away from his touch.

“You still have me, Y/n. I’m your family.”

She looked to her feet and back to him, shaking her head.

“No, Arv. You’re not. And you will be sorry for what you did to him, to all of them. You will be.” She said, walking away with her heels clicking heavily on the wooden floors. Arvin stood still for a while, not quite sure where to go next. But it dawned on him as the stained glass shone down on his feet in the most poetic manner, that he was already there.

So he dragged his feet along with him, breaths ragged and short, his head slowly tilting up towards the glorious light. He only had to go a few feet, before he sat down in the old leather chair, the only emotions he felt being those of an imposter. He thought back to all the nervous conversations he’d had with the pastor while he was sitting in that chair, a trembling Arvin usually standing opposite, awaiting instruction.

He darted his eyes across the mahogany surface in front of him, looking at all the various things that he only could associate with Y/n’s father. His valued cigar box, the crystalline tray that rested next to it. (He swore he could still smell the fresh smoke, wafting from the little dish.) He opened it, the latch clinking before his hand reached in and his fingers clasped around one of the thick rolls of tobacco. Before he could light it, he felt overwhelmed all of a sudden, and dropped it back into the box, slamming the lid.

He laid back, resting his weary head. Arvin took a deep breath through his nose, exhaling through his mouth, before falling into a not so peaceful slumber.

He was only woken minutes later, Joseph, Y/n’s uncle, wanting to know if Arvin had seen her lately. He shook his head, muttering an annoyed “No”. Joseph got the idea relatively quickly, exiting the room. He heard the chapel’s doors close, taking that as his queue to leave once he saw the time. So he grabbed his hat and his coat, leaving the office and making his way through the dimly lit space. His attention was caught, though, by the cross by the front pews, so beautifully shining. Arvin put down his things, and walked over to the pew, sitting down on the uncomfortable hardwood. He bowed his head, putting his interlocked fingers utop the surface in front of him.

He hadn’t done this in awhile, this whole praying thing. It seemed naive in his way of life, with the things that happened around him, the people lost. But nonetheless, if ever, now was a good time to try.

“Heavenly Father, I, I, uh, I need to talk to you. To, uh, set the record straight.” His hands were sweaty, tears welling in his eyes.

“Y/n, she’s- well she’s the love of my life, God, and I don’t think she loves me anymore. Hell, she wants me dead. But I don’t blame her, I couldn’t ever. Not after...” he paused, his bottom lip shaking, “Not if she thinks I killed her family. But I didn’t, Father, I didn’t and I could never. But she don’t see that. I need her to see that.” He raised his voice, the bitter droplets rolling down his reddened cheeks, hitting his shoes.

“I can’t live without her, I won’t. So I guess I’m askin’ you a favor, Lord. Just… let her know I didn’t do it, that I would never hurt her.” His voice cracked, his words barely audible, not that whoever was listening cared.

“That I love her so much.”

Arvin muttered something of an “Amen”, and then just sat there for he wasn’t sure how long. His silence was interrupted by a mellow and raw voice, cutting through the silence like the sharpest dagger.

“It was the Teagardin family. I just found out.”

Arvin stood and turned so fast he dizzied himself, having to hold onto the back of the pew for stability. His bottom lip quivered, his flushed features gaining a confused look.

“Y/n/n? How long you been there?” He questioned, not bothering to wipe his eyes. She shifted from one foot to the other, fumbling with her hands.

“Long enough.”

There was a mutual understanding at her few words from the two of them, and an apology within them all the same. Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose runny and her overall appearance disheveled. Despite that, just the fact that she was there, to him, made her the most beautiful girl in the world. 

Arvin could tell she was holding herself back, her emotions, too, as she started to speak, barely able to get through a sentence as she rambled about how she shouldn’t have assumed things, and that it wasn’t right of her to accuse her beloved of something so dire. But none of it mattered to Arvin as he strode towards her, her words only ceasing when he finally wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m so sorry, Arv.” She sobbed, gripping onto him for dear life. That was all she said, repeating it over and over again with the exception of “I love you” also being reiterated. 

Her husband spoke over her hushed tone, saying “It’s alright, doll, I know. You were right to think that, it’s not your fault. It was never your fault.” They continued that way for some time until they both regained their bearings, Arvin wrapping an arm around her shoulders and walking down the front stairs of the chapel. 

“Let’s go home, sweet girl.” He had said, so they did. Arvin kissed the side of her head, regarding once more how he loved her, before starting the ride home, his hand on her thigh the whole time, not wanting to let her go for even a second.

His mind was plagued with thoughts of the past, and he remembered an old saying he had heard long ago. What was it? Ah, you know what they say.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

·。·。·。

how we feeling folks did we like? gimme feedback if u wanna! mwah love u, take care of urself

 xx hj

[write-orflight]

Galileo: Chapter 5

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader, enemies to friends to lovers trope

Rating: M

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: Light smut, 18+

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N is an astronomer with her head constantly in the stars. But when a serial killer is threatening NASA’s top scientists, she is left in the protective custody of a man who’s gravitational pull threatens to pull her back down to earth.

A.N Unedited because i’m sleepy. There’s a fic I read when I first joined the fandom that inspired some of this chapter. i can’t remember the name but if you do, please tell me so I can credit. Comment on this chapter only or message to be on taglist please.

                             Chapter 5: Saturn 

There was a rare occurrence that happens sometimes in Space where a Planet will tilt off its axis and disrupt the order of things in the galaxy forever. Even though it hasn’t happened yet, it doesn't make it not possible. You had always thought about that phenomenon and how you never quite understood how so many scientists just blindly believed in that possibility with no proof. It wasn’t until that dance with Spencer that you believed in it. If you were the galaxy, that dance was the tilt in your axis. 

Nothing could quite be the same again. 

It seemed that Spencer himself was the disruptor. 

Since that day, everything between the two of you was different. It was simpler. It was too easy to have conversations, to laugh at each other's jokes, to spit inane useless facts at each other. But it also became too easy to melt at Spencer’s bright smile, too easy to stare at his hands as he helped you with your math sometimes, too easy to flush whenever he paid you a compliment on your work. 

Too easy to fall in love with him. 

You didn’t want to think about that but you couldn’t help it. At first, you wanted to chalk it up to you not knowing how to differentiate your feelings. Maybe you just thought you were in love with him because he was the first guy to be nice to you since Jonathan but as the days went on you knew that to not be the case. None of this felt like how you were with Jonathan. With Spencer, it just felt easy. Just felt right. 

It was the weekend so you had off work. Before you would always end up going into work anyway and getting some extra logs in but now you liked staying in and hanging out with Spencer. Right now the two of you were walking in the plaza near your home, fresh cups of coffee in hand. Spencer, at first, did not want to be out but after some convincing (which was just you threatening to leave without him, which he did not like) he was all for joining you out. The two of you stopped in a bookstore and you made a beeline for the astrology section. You hear Spencer scoff when you pick up a book to look through it. You raise an eyebrow at him. 

“What?” You say. 

“Astrology, really? Aren’t you a scientist?” 

“Yea, an astronomer. I love Space, so while Astrology isn’t a proven science. It’s fun to think the stars have a say in what kinda person you are.” You shrug. “When’s your birthday?” 

“October 28th.” 

“Of course you’re a Scorpio.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything to me. Astrology isn’t real.” 

“You must be real fun at parties.” You roll your eyes. 

“Well, what’s your sign?” 

“I’m a Cancer. Did you know that water signs are the most compatible? Especially Scorpios and Cancers.” 

Spencer laughs out loud at that. You turn looking him in the eye. “What’s funny?” you say. 

“That itself doesn’t tell you that astrology is bullshit?” He laughs. You narrow your eyes at him. “I mean, us, compatible? It’s funny.” 

You try. You try so very hard not to look hurt by his words, you know Spencer’s a profiler and will see right through it. And he does by the sympathetic look he gives you. 

“You’re right, maybe it is bullshit.” You say, putting the book down instantly. “Let’s go home.” 

You and Spencer don’t talk the whole walk home, in fact you don’t talk when you get there. You’re about to just retreat to your room when you feel a hand circle your wrist. 

“I’m sorry.” He says. 

“You didn’t do anything.” 

“I hurt your feelings.” He says. 

“You didn’t hurt my feelings.” You lied. “I’m just with you all the time. Sometimes I just need a minute alone. Is that okay?” 

He lets go of your wrist. “Of course, I’m sorry.” 

You nod and retreat to your room, blowing a heavy breath as you fell into your bed. Might as well take a nap. You thought as you let sleep take you over. 

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

Long, slender fingers found their way into your hair and yanked roughly. You couldn’t help the soft whimper that came behind it. You felt the lips that were sucking hard bruising marks into your neck smirk slightly. His other hand trailed your body lightly until they met their final destination at your sex. You gasp loudly when the digit rubbed soft circles around your clit. 

“Are you going to be good for me?” He asked, you nodded dumbly before moaning out loud when the first digit found its way inside you. Spencer smirked at you. “Look at you. I’ve barely touched you and you’re this wet for me. You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” He asked, you nodded and gasped again as he found that spot inside you. “Hmm, I don’t think you want it enough baby.”   

You’re shaking your head immediately. “No. Ple-please fuck me.” You stutter. “I’ll be good, I swear.” 

The smirk he gives you is almost devilish. “Alright, baby. I’ll take care of you.” He says as you feel member pressing up against your sex--

You wake up to the smell of something burning and Spencer shouting expletives from what you assumed was the kitchen. You groaned, frustratedly. Since that day your mom came to visit, you dreamed of Spencer almost constantly. Today was no different. You couldn’t escape him in your waking hours and now it seemed you couldn’t even escape him sleeping. 

You hop out of bed and run to the kitchen. The sight before is Spencer frantically waving the billowing smoke that was coming from your oven. You run to open your window and turn the oven fan on. You both look at the pan that had something that couldn’t even be described as food anymore by the degree of which it was burned. Spencer looked at you guiltily. 

“You seemed upset so I thought I’d make you dinner but I was reading and I lost track of time. I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You smile at him. “Thank you for thinking of me but I wanted chinese tonight anyway, sound good?”  You say, he nods gratefully. 

Later the two of you are sitting at your kitchen table, eating chinese out of the takeaway containers. You were talking about nothing and everything until the topic came to College. You talked about how freshman year you did the whole partying thing before quickly finding out it wasn’t your scene and keeping to yourself for the rest of your college career. Spencer told you he never went to any parties in college. 

“You never went to any parties?!” You asked, shocked.

“Well, I was 12. No one was really scrambling to invite me to frat parties.” 

“So you didn’t do any traditional college games? No beer pong? No ‘Never Have I Ever’?” You ask, Spencer shakes his head. That’s when you get a fantastic idea. You get up and look in the cabinet above your stove which is where you kept your liquor and pulled out a bottle of Jameson. Spencer sees this and immediately shakes his head. 

“No.” 

“Aww, come on. Let’s play Never Have I Ever.” You smile. “If you’ve done the thing you drink.” 

“I don’t want to play a remedial drinking game.” 

You think for a second. “How about this? You’re a profiler, right? And I like to think I’m a little observant so how about this. We’ll take turns making assumptions about the other if the person is right, the other drinks and if they’re wrong, you drink.” 

“I don’t know… it probably isn’t wise for me to be drinking. I’m supposed to be watching you.” 

“It’s not like we go anywhere that’s not here anyway.” You say. “Plus, if you're good at your job, you’ll hardly have to drink.” You throw a pouty face on for good measure. Spencer rolls his eyes. 

“Fine.” He says standing up and snatching the bottle from you, walking to the living room. You giggle at him before grabbing two glasses to follow him out. “Just so you know, it’s wrong to peer pressure people.” He says. 

“Well, what’s a college drinking game without peer pressure.” You laugh. 

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

“Who’s starting?” You say as you watch Spencer pour your glass. The two of you are settled on opposite ends of your small couch, facing each other, your knees just almost touching. 

“You can.” Spencer says. “I want to see if you're actually observant.” 

“Okay.” You say, sitting up slightly at the challenge. “You’re an only child.” You say. Spencer raises his eyebrows at you, shocked you actually got something right, but drinks anyway. 

Spencer looks at you for a second. “You have an older sibling you are not close to.” 

You drank. “Yea I’ve got an adoptive older brother. There’s nothing wrong, it’s just he was already much older when I was born and we have nothing in common, other than our parents.” You look at Spencer for a second. “I wanna say divorced parents, but only raised by one.” 

“You’re a lot more observant than I thought.” Spencer says as he drinks. “Dad left when I was 10.” He says offhandedly. 

The game goes like this for a while, both of you confirming your beliefs of each other. You find out about Spencer’s mother's illness, Spencer learning you smoke when you’re stressed. Spencer was winning though, not that you had a problem with that as you wanted to drink, hence why you suggested the game. You were giving him a little bit of a run for his money. It was now your turn and the alcohol in your system must’ve turned off your filter because you say. 

“You’re a virgin.” 

You pause for a second waiting for him to drink when you realize he’s waiting on you to. You widen your eyes in shock but take your drink anyway. “I thought Maeve died before you got to meet her fully.” 

Spencer nods. “She did.” He says, “The two don’t correlate.” He says, like it's obvious. 

You hadn’t been expecting that. “You just didn’t strike as the hit it and quit it type.” 

“And I’m not, but sometimes things are just temporary.” He says looking at you, deeply in your eyes. “You were upset today, in the shop because I said we weren’t compatible.”  

You solemnly take a drink. “Why?” He asks. 

“Hey, that’s not a part of the game.” You say. 

“Please?” He adds. 

You sigh. “I don’t know… I guess, it seemed like the idea of being with me repulsed you. And that was upsetting.” 

Spencer looks at you with the most intense look in his eye. You had never seen that look before and you were glad you hadn’t because it was so heated that it was melting you where you sat. “The idea of being with you…” He says, eyes flickering down to your lips and back to your eyes. “Doesn’t repulse me. Trust me.” 

You knew you weren’t the best at social cues sometimes but that seemed like a pretty big one. You move closer to him, so that your faces were close but someone would still have to make that final move. You realize it’s your turn, so you think, Fuck it...  

“You want to kiss me right now.” You say, looking Spencer in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just takes a slow swig from his glass, eyes never leaving yours. He sits his glass down on the table next to him before saying. 

“You want me to kiss you.” 

You sip your drink, looking him right back in the eyes. You sit your glass down next to his and Spencer's hand catches your wrist on its way back. Before you can even get a good look at him, his lips are crashing on to yours. You groan in surprise before melting into it, your hands immediately going for his hair. His massive hands almost engulf your face as he tries to pull you impossibly close to him. He groans as he licks into your mouth, both of you tasting like the Jameson you had just drunk but there was also something under it that was just pure Spencer. You push him back until you are fully seated in his lap. His hands go immediately to your waist. Feeling risky, you experimentally grind your hips, causing Spencer to groan and grip you tighter. His hands slide up your shirt slightly, you moan at that. 

“Fuck-” Spencer says as you suck bruises down his neck. “Fuck, w-we’ve gotta stop.” 

You pull back. “Why?” you ask. 

Spencer swallows, pushing you off his lap. “There’s this thing called transference. You only want me right now because I’m protecting you. You don’t like me.” He says. “We don’t like each other.” 

You realized what Spencer was trying to say. You were both drunk and there, he didn’t really want you. It was being stuck together for so long that was making him attracted to you. You were foolish to think a guy would actually want you. 

“You don’t like me.” You say. “And I read this situation wrong again. God, I’m an idiot!”  

“I didn’t say that, Y/N-” 

“No, you’re right. You only kissed me because I’m what you’ve been stuck with for weeks. You don’t like me. I can’t blame you no guy ever does.” 

“No, Y/N, I just didn’t want to take advan--” 

“I need to smoke. I’m going out.” You say, grabbing. “Alone.” 

“Y/N, that’s not safe and you know it. Let me go with you.” 

“I think we both need to be away from each other. I’ll only be out front. Please.” You plead to him. 

  Spencer doesn’t say anything so you take that as your cue to go. You pull your pack and lighter out the kitchen draw and stomp out the door. As soon as you get in front of the building, you light the first cigarette as stray tears fall down your face. You were such an idiot to think someone like Spencer would want you. Sure you were both smart but you were arrogant and spiteful. Spencer was the sweetest person ever when you got to know him. It was stupid to think there was a world the two of you would work. 

You frustratedly put your cigarette out and stand to head back inside to probably embarrass yourself some more when you feel it. 

The hard slam to the back of your head knocking you out cold. 

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

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[ladykissingfish]

The Akatsuki at Karaoke Night

Being a group of insatiable killers is hard work, even in the best of circumstances. Like anybody else, the Akatsuki is constantly seeking out ways to unwind and de-stress during their off time. One day Konan goes out and comes back excited; a local tavern hosts a karaoke night every week. The others are reluctant at first, but this quickly becomes one of their new favorites pastimes. Drinking, eating, singing; what could be more fun than that?

Deidara

Has to be really drunk to get up on stage and sing. Like, incredibly drunk. Like how-is-he-still-standing-drunk. When in this state, there’s one song that he’ll sing and one song only: “I’m A Barbie Girl.” Nobody in the Akatsuki knows why he chooses this particular song, but everyone has to admit that it suits him. He’ll take his hair out of his ponytail and have it cascading down his back, he’ll tie up his shirt in a front knot, and, if she’s wearing them, will borrow Konan’s heels to wear. And he’ll always try and drag Sasori on stage with him to sing the parts of Ken (C’mon, Danna! You’re literally like a doll, hm!), but Sasori will only comply if he’s in a really good mood/there’s not that many people around. Despite his intoxication he’ll actually sing beautifully, so much so that he’ll receive requests for encores; which he’ll do, until the booze catches up with him and he falls head-first off the stage and into someone’s (usually Tobi’s) lap. Won’t remember a thing the next day and feverishly insist that he’s never even heard of “some weird Barbie song”.

EDIT:: After days of this being on my mind I can also believe that Deidara would sing “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood(?) and stare directly at Sasori the entire time even though they’re not really dating they‘re “in a situation” and even though if they WERE dating Sasori isn’t the cheating kind but he’s listening to the lyrics and noting how intensely Deidara is singing it and his face is just 😳

Sasori

He only goes because the others insist that he does. Honestly, this guy has a severe allergy to anything Fun. Chances are he’ll bring one of his puppets with him to work on/modify. He mostly refuses to get on stage and sing any songs of his own, BUT he’ll use his chakra strings to control his puppet and have it dance along on stage to a song of his choosing, that he has one of the other members sing for the puppet (giving them a taste of ventriloquism). The song he likes his performers to do most frequently is “Dancing With Myself” by Billy Joel; this must be his favorite song because he always silently mouths along to it as it plays. If literally nobody else is there besides the rest of the Akatsuki, he sometimes “makes” Deidara join him for a duet; he’s particularly fond of “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John, although he and Deidara always fight over who sings the part of the girl.

Tobi

It’s dangerous to let Tobi sing in front of people. Not because he’s bad at it, but because ... he’s good. Startlingly good. His voice changes completely from a goofy childish timbre, to very deep, and smooth, and mellow. There are sea legends about sailors being lured to their deaths by the songs of sirens, and the same principle seems to be at work here. Waitresses will drop their trays, people walking will run face-first into each other, and the area around the stage will be packed with men and women alike trying to get as close as possible to him. The fact that he sounds like that but won’t make his mask off makes him even more mysterious and alluring. His song of choice? “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers; which brings tears (and swooning) to the eyes and minds of anyone who hears him. After the song it’s like someone flips a switch, and he goes back to the weirdo that the Akatsuki knows and tolerates, seemingly completely oblivious to the chaos his singing caused. He also enjoys having drinks with his Senpai, as the alcohol makes the blonde much more friendly towards Tobi than he usually is; however he can’t keep up with the amount of booze Deidara can put away, and he feels sleepy after just a few beers.

Hidan

As with most group outings, he’ll complain about thinking everything is stupid. His religion prohibits the consumption of alcohol, so he’ll occupy himself with eating lots of food and “lovingly” heckling his fellow Akatsuki members when they get up on stage. Once in a blue moon he can be persuaded to get up and sing himself, although again this is a complete rarity. He has no real music preferences and will usually just flip through the available choices until he finds something he knows the lyrics to. Tries to pick songs with a lot of swearing in it, which he won’t bother to bleep out and will instead scream out at the top of his lungs (which often results in the whole group being threatened with getting kicked out). Sometimes, though, when he’s in a more mellow state of mind ((a rarity for Hidan)) he’ll get the urge to do a duet (because that takes the pressure off of everyone staring only at him) and can convince Konan to go up with him. Their rendition of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” always brings the room to its feet, and gets them thunderous applause. After the song Konan will blush and kiss his cheek, which Hidan pretends to act embarrassed about (but is secretly thrilled by). His favorite song to do solo, however, is “Sympathy For The Devil” by The Rolling Stones, which he ... really ... gets into.

Kakuzu

Mostly comes out with the others as a sort of chaperone; making sure they get home safe after drinking, and trying to prevent them from blowing all their money on the “outrageously priced” food and drinks. Karaoke isn’t really his thing, and neither is being on stage in front of people. However if he’s in a decent mood, and there aren’t that many people around, he can be persuaded to get up and sing. He sings the most amazing rendition of “Ain’t No Grave (Can Hold My Body Down)” by Johnny Cash; his deep gravelly voice and slow speaking pitch are absolutely perfect for it, giving everyone listening goosebumps. Kakuzu is also a skilled guitar player, and sometimes he will sit on stage and play the guitar bits of certain songs for other Akatsuki members singing, “But I’m taking my fees out of your next paycheck.”

Zetsu

Surprisingly, this is one activity that the plant-man enjoys engaging in with the others. He’s not much of an alcohol drinker, and “human” food isn’t really his thing, either; but he loves to hear the others do their best at singing. It takes a lot to get Zetsu up on the stage himself, but when he does, he’s a fairly decent singer. He’s able to change the pitch of his voice quite effortlessly, so that it intend sounds as if two people are singing, instead of one. His song of choice is a long one: “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen. It takes a lot f stamina to get through this, but Zetsu always finds that half the time he can’t even hear his own voice with this one, as everyone in the place sings with him (because seriously, who alive doesn’t know this song?). But it’s not all fun and games; Zetsu will always be scoping out the crowd, discerning who the most intoxicated people are. He’ll lure these poor souls into the alley out back, and gave himself a tasty little snack. He tries his hardest not to let the others catch him doing this, though, as this is supposed to be a fun and stress-free night for all involved.

Konan and Pein

This whole thing was her idea, yet, unless it’s a duet with one of the others, she’s very reluctant to try and sing on her own. Thinks her voice is “nails on a chalkboard”, although everyone vehemently disagrees with this perspective. Never has to bring any money with her to the bar, because all of the boys will take turns buying her food and drinks. She goes crazy for fries of any kind, and can eat carloads of these alone. Konan is exceptionally beautiful, and she will be mercilessly hit on from the moment she walks in until they all leave. Well, not always — the boys ALSO like to take turns acting as Konan’s bodyguard, and protecting her from anyone who tries to come within three feet of her. They hide their more vicious tendencies for when Konan’s not paying attention, because they know she wants a relaxing evening, but still: there’s been quite a number of guys escorted out of the bar by Kisame and Hidan, that mysteriously never return. When persuaded to sing, almost anything she chooses will be an Amy Winehouse song, as this is her favorite artist. Her favorite song is “Wake Up Alone”, which moves her fellow teammates (Pein included) to tears. Joins Kakuzu as helper to make sure everyone gets home safe and sound. Pein doesn’t like singing, and does not want to sing ... but Konan always manages to convince him to be a good sport at some point in the evening. But the song he picks is disappointingly predictable: “Pain” by Three Days Grace. Expected, maybe ... but he puts real heart and soul into his rendition, nearly falling off the stage with his enthusiasm. As with all group outings, Nagato loves to experience everything through the Pein-body’s eyes, and spend time with this makeshift family of his.

Kisame

One of the biggest drinkers, but something (perhaps his half-animalness) makes it near impossible for him to be totally drunk, no matter how much alcohol he consumes. Sometimes he’ll make a deal with Kakuzu: Kakuzu will scope out other drunks in the place, inform Kisame of their whereabouts, and Kisame will hustle them for money in either drinking contests or pool games. He’ll split the money with the old guy, making both happy. When it comes to the karaoke aspect, Kisame doesn’t really like singing, or being in front of a crowd; but decides to be a good sport and do a song lIke the others. He can sing almost anything (he has a wide vocal range), but he really seems to favor love ballads. His favorite is November Rain by Guns n Roses, and the rest of the Akatsuki is shocked at how damn soulful he sounds singing it. If not singing or hustling drunks, he likes to spend some quiet time with Itachi, buying him snacks and coaxing the thin ((TOO thin, in Kisame’s opinion)) young man to eat.

Itachi

Is quiet and shy by nature, so naturally things like karaoke bars aren’t really his deal. But Kisame always insists that it’s good for him to get out ((out of the hideout and out of his head)) and socialize once in a while, so he goes. It’s the same deal as Konan, almost, where women flock to him and hit on him for nearly the entire duration of his visit. However, the group doesn’t act as a collective bodyguard for him, as the majority of them feel like he’d be better off, as Hidan delicately puts it, “If the fucker just got laid.” But Itachi doesn’t seem interested in anything like this; he’s polite to those who approach him, but so closed-off that eventually they give up. When one particularly persistent woman wouldn’t leave him alone, Itachi resorted to grabbing the person nearest him (who happened to be Deidara) and telling the admirer that he was his boyfriend. He even put his arm around the guy’s waist, squeezing him. Deidara went along with it, but after the woman left he angrily informed Itachi that he’d “blow your ass up if you ever try something like that again, hm!” That’s what he SAYS, but it should be noted that he blushes quite hard for some time afterwards. Itachi was only ever convicted to go up and sing one time, and it was a duet with Kisame. The song was “Under Pressure” by Queen and David Bowie. At the end of the song, Kisame was beaming, and Itachi had more admirers than ever clamoring for his attention. Not used to late nights so if they’re out past midnight will usually fall asleep sitting at the bar, and be carried home (and put into bed) by Kisame.

[something-fanfiction-ie]

Tips and Tricks

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Spencer scares you for a second. And your mom is disappointed.

A/N: I know I have so many things going at once but I couldn’t help myself with this! I’m sorry. Forgive me. Like, comment, reblog, send me asks and shit. I love you! Enjoy!

___

A true book enthusiast knows that the most beautiful smell in the world can be found in the middle of a book. Whether it’s old and it’s pages are yellowed with age, or its so new that the text wipes off onto your hands when you open the cover, the smell is like a drug that gets your engine running the way no actual drug ever could.

It’s that thought that makes your pull your car into the nearly deserted parking lot of the bookstore as the rain crashes around you. You’ve seen enough ID Channel to know that waiting for the storm to pass while parked on the side of the road is about as dangerous as walking into a serial killer club meeting with a sign around your neck that reads, ‘kill me, I look like every person who has ever wronged you in life.’

Pulling your bag up over your head, you dash inside as fast as you can. The bell rings through the empty store, the smell of books hitting your senses and putting you at ease.

Even with your bag over your head, your hair is drenched and your clothes stick to your body in the most uncomfortable way possible. The store is manned by one forlorn looking teenage girl with short black hair, you can hear the gum she’s smacking behind the desk from four feet away.

Classical music filters down from the speakers, nestling among the thousands of books that take up every available space in the room. While some books fill the floor to ceiling bookshelves, the rest have been stacked on the floor like a maze of knowledge. Some stacks go up so high that even if you stand on your toes and stretch your arm as high as you could, you would still be a good ten five-hundred paged books from the top.

Every turn into the book maze reveals another secret of the store, like the collection of vinyls tucked into a corner beneath a record player that is older than your grandmother. Down a narrow path of towering novels, is a small reading nook with two red armchairs that have seen their fair share of readers.

It feels like you’ve stumbled upon the house of an immortal book-lover, the rugs that stretch across the floor feeling just as ancient as the words around you. But it’s peaceful, relaxing. You find yourself humming along to Chopin’s Nocturnes, Op. 9: No. 2, the spines of books bumping under your finger. Unsure how the books are organized, or even if they are, you’ve decided to look at the book your finger is on once the song is over.

When the last notes fade into a brief quietness, you stop on a book written by a ‘David Rossi.’ You can’t help the breathy laugh that comes from your chest in surprise that the first book you look at is a true crime novel.

Ever since you were a little girl, stealing your mom’s police badge to play ‘cops and robbers,’ and sneaking into her office to read case files you weren’t supposed to, you’d been in love with the puzzle-solving of the investigative world. You’ve always had a mind for finding clues no one thought to look for, it was the only reason you didn’t get in trouble when you left sticky notes full of observations and theories in your mother’s case files.

It was this background that made everyone around you so sure you would become a detective just like your mom. It was this same background that surprised everyone when you became an author instead. To say your mother was disappointed was an understatement, she’d been the most shocked when you showed her a four hundred page manuscript instead of an application for the police academy.

“Who gets a master’s in criminology only to write books?!”

Even still, she was the dedication in every book you published. So far, that was two, you’d been in the midst of your third book for four months now. Something about the story didn’t feel right, and no matter how many times you rewrote every page, it still didn’t click together the way the first two books had.

You don’t let the thought bug you as you flip open the hardcover, the pages falling to the side as you read the synopsis printed to the inside flap. The ringing of the bell barely registers in your mind, falling somewhere behind the book in your hands, the sound of the rain beating at the roof, and Beethoven’s Sonata No. 8. After reading the first page, you decide to give the book a chance and you tuck it beneath your arm for safe keeping.

This time, you turn your eyes up to the tops of the shelves, scanning for something that might be interesting. Each binding tells a story of its own, with spines creased from frequent readings or smooth spines begging to be cracked open. There are titles in gold and black, silver and red, the backgrounds varying in more colors than the words.

By the time you’ve wandered back to the reading nook with armchairs strategically placed to face each other at a diagonal, Beethoven is coming to a close. The notes vibrate for just a moment, and you choose the book tucked into the end with a dark purple cover and gold lettering. You can’t quite see the title but something tells you that this is something you want to read, that this books is going to be a good one.

Call it a reader’s instinct.

It’s just that, there are no step ladders to get to the top shelf and you aren’t exactly tall enough to reach it. Climbing the shelf just sounds dangerous, and you aren’t too eager to die at the hands of hundreds of books and a large bookcase. You contemplate moving one of the armchairs to assist you, but ultimately decide against it when you imagine that teenage girl coming to the back with a disappointed look on her face at the sight of you.

Instead you stretch like your life depends on it, your toes cramping a little as you push up on them as high as you can go. The tips of your fingers bump the spine when you curve your hand around the lip of the shelf. The wood digs into your wrist but maybe if you keep pushing and pulling at what you can grab, it will wiggle itself free.

That’s your plan until a warm body unintentionally brushes against you, an arm longer than yours coming up beside you and taking the book from its place up high with ease. Falling back to your feet, you’re quick to turn around and come face to face with a man you’ve never met before.

His expression is kind and gentle, crinkling his eyes and dimpling his cheeks when he offers you a shy smile and the book he grabbed for you. He’s definitely in the department of tall, tilting his head down a little to meet your gaze with eyes that you can’t quite describe as brown but you can’t quite describe as hazel either. Everything about him makes your heart stutter in your chest, from the color and shape of his lips, to the sharp cut of his jawline.

He’s curls himself down a little, his empty hand palm up and open as if he is trying to seem less threatening. It’s such a stark contrast to most of the men you meet, who invade your personal space and eyeball your breasts like they’re human bra size detectors.

You don’t realize you’ve been staring until he clear his throat, a dusty pink color rising to his cheekbones as he shuffles nervously in his spot. Blinking away the cloud of initial shock from the angelic being before you, you grab the book and mumble a ‘thank you.’

“Are you a big fan of David Rossi?” He says, shoving his hands deep into the recesses of his pockets.

“Who?” Internally, your facepalm yourself at the absolute stupidity that must be radiating off of you in waves strong enough to affect the whole population of Virginia.

“You’re holding two of his books.” Sure enough, not only is the book tucked under your arm David Rossi, but so is the book in your hands. The laugh that sputters out of you is even more surprised than the first laugh, the sheer coincidence of grabbing two random books by the same author in this whole building pulling the laughter from the pits of your stomach.

His lips flicker into a confused smile. It makes him that much more adorable.

“I was choosing books my eyes or finger landed on when the song ended. I couldn’t really figure out how everything is arranged so I thought I’d let the music decide for me.” He looks around now, his male-lead, love-interest eyes flying across the room to confirm that there really was no form of originization, his brows furrowing in thought. His bottom lips is sucked between his teeth and the vividness of the lewd fantasies that come from the small action are enough to push you back a step.

Only, you’re already pretty close to the bookcase, and when you step back to get some distance your back bumps into the wood and his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head to keep it from hitting the corner. You’re not even sure how he knew to react so fast, those eyes coming back to meet yours.

“Careful there, your head almost hit the shelf behind you.” Putting just a little pressure on the back of your neck to guide you out of harms way, he doesn’t let go until his back is to the case and you’re standing in his old spot. The new smile he gives you is lopsided, causing your heart to trip over itself. What you wouldn’t give in that moment to capture that smile on camera or canvas, to hold onto it forever.

You don’t even know this man, what are you thinking?!

Pulling the books to your chest like a shield for your heart, which has digressed to the same emotional maturity you had as a thirteen year old girl when you were in love with every member of New Kids On the Block, you tighten your grip around the covers to the point that your knuckles turn white.

“I’m (Y/N).” Somehow his smile brightens even more.

“I’m Spencer.”

“Are you hiding from the rain too, Spencer?” Everything about you hates small talk, you always wanted to jump straight into the nitty gritty of getting to know someone. You wanted to know what made them tick, what made them who they were. But you were willing to do the normal thing and lure him into an actual conversation, if only to keep him talking.

“Actually, I came to this bookshop with a specific purpose.” Spencer schools his features, suddenly all business. The brown blazer with elbow patches and the lavender button up certainly help to make him appear serious. You still imagine reaching for the dark purple tie around his neck and pulling his lips to yours, the severity of his expression only adding to his sexiness.

“I work in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, I came here because I’m in the middle of an investigation that led me here,” You blink in surprise, all kinds of questions popping into your mind. “You see, I got a tip that I may find it here. I wasn’t sure, but after some looking around it appears they were right.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he’s talking about, thinking of all the local cases you’ve heard about in the last week or so. Nothing that would involve the FBI comes to mind, especially not the BAU.

Between the end of his sentence and the opening of your mouth, Spencer has time to reach out to the side of your head, his fingers brushing against a few strands of hair.

“I only want to know two things; how you got ahold of my favorite pen, and why you thought you could get away with it?” Balanced in his thumb and index finger is a black pen, the writing tip pointed toward the ceiling. He holds it between you, a silly grin stretched across his face as you reach up to touch your ear.

Of course you’ve seen the old ‘coin behind the ear’ trick before, never with a pen but it’s the same concept. It’s just so funny and out-there that you cant help being a little amazed.

“Is this how you flirt with women, Agent?”

“Actually it’s Doctor. Doctor Reid,” he smugly goes about tucking the pen back into the breast pocket of his blazer, you can briefly recall it being there before he distracted you by switching places just seconds ago, “I do work with the BAU, that wasn’t a ruse. I have my credentials if you want me to prove it.”

He isn’t boastful, he’s just trying to distract you from the answer to your question. The answer was yes, this is how he flirts with women. It was the only way he knew how to flirt with women that worked, having stuck to the method since Atlanta, Georgia. You wouldn’t be the first woman who thought it was cute, you were the first woman to call him on it though.

“As long as you don’t try to arrest me for the kidnapping of your pen, I’ll be inclined to believe you without proof.” He chuckles, the first time you’ve heard it since the both of you started talking, and you didn’t realize he could get better. The sound warmed every part of you so much that you felt like you were glowing from inside.

“I knew you were framed. I’ve had my suspicions on the girl running the store.” You nod your head, trying to keep the smile from pulling on your lips as you tuck a piece of your still wet hair behind your ear.

“I knew something hinky was happening with her.”

“My best law enforcement advice is to always trust your gut when it comes to crime, ma’am.”

With the ice broken thanks to the magical Dr. Reid, the conversation flows naturally between you. You both gravitate toward each other like opposite ends of magnets, unaware how close you are to touching until you absentmindedly kick your foot out and hit the tip of his shoe with your own. In an attempt to keep yourself rooted, you sit in the armchairs.

Anyone, FBI profiler or not, would have been able to tell what was going on when they found you both leaned against the arms of your seats, heads together as Reid explained how the serious looking man in the back of your book is actually one of his team members. He names all of his team members, affectionately describing them to you as if they were characters in a new book you were reading.

Normally he would keep all of this information reserved, but something about you made him feel so at ease.

You too, reveal more information than you normally would to a stranger you’d just met. You tell him about your books and your mother, you tell him how you aren’t sure why your newest book isn’t working and ask his advice on it all. He takes each question into careful consideration before answering.

It isn’t until you’ve been there for two hours, talking about anything that you could think of, that Spencer’s phone starts to ring. It’s a case. You want to ask, the young girl from your childhood coming out at the mention of a case you could help on, but you don’t.

“I’m really sorry, (Y/N), but I have to go.” He fluidly rises from his seat, all at once the carefree air falls around him to reveal the intelligent, elegant, crime-fighting, doctor underneath the nerdy, magic-loving young man you’d spent the last couple of hours getting to know.

“I’ll walk you to the door.” You offer, hoping to figure out a way to cheekily ask for his number before you make it there. His answering smile is infectious, reaching out and tugging your own cheeks into a smile that hurts. The books hit the wood of the desk with a thunk, Spencer standing just beside you as the girl, her name tag reads ‘RAveN,’ rings up your purchase.

“Watch out for your pens.” Spencer teases, that boy-like amusement coming out. You’ve noticed that when he tries to make a joke, he looks so nervous that you won’t get it in the seconds immediately following it. It isn’t until you laugh or crack a smile that he visibly relaxes, glad to have someone that understands his humor.

Earlier, he’d told you the joke about the existentialists and the light bulb and had been absolutely elated when you doubled over in laughter. The joke wasn’t even that funny, but he’d been making you laugh for so long that your ribs had started to hurt.

“That’ll be $12.78.” You slide your card across the desk, pulling your eyes away from Reid longer than you wanted to. When you look back, there’s a look on his face that takes you a minute to recognize. It’s just on the tip of your tongue when the smack of pen and receipt paper hit the counter.

Quickly, you sign your name on the stores copy of your receipt. You flip your copy of the receipt to the back, using the pen to scribble out your phone number.

“Call me if you ever learn any new magic tricks you want to show off.” The bell dings when you lean back against the door, your books in a bag that dangle from your left hand while your right hand comes up in a wave.

Spencer still stands at the counter, the one in a hurry being the one who still isn’t out the door. The lopsided smile is back, that look crossing his face again as you let the after-storm sun shine on your face.

“Sir, can you take your longing elsewhere? I’d like to close early. I have a thing to get to.” He pats his hand on the countertop, ignoring the buzzing of texts coming through his phone as he makes his way to the car in a bit of a daze.

[astrognossienne]

scandalous beauty: athalia ponsell lindsley - an analysis

“Not that St. Augustine citizens went around killing people they didn’t like. But Athalia was not on a level playing field. Nobody liked her, so there was not a big hue and cry when she was killed.” - Sally Boyles, a neighbour of Lindsley’s

For someone so brash, loud, and ballsy, her life, especially her early life, was quite a mystery. Just like her controversial death. On January 23, 1974, former model, dancer, political activist and television personality Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was murdered with a machete by an unknown assailant on the front steps of her home in St. Augustine, Florida. Her murder is notorious more than four decades after it occurred. The only eyewitness said a man attacked Lindsley with a machete in broad daylight on the front steps of her white mansion. Gossip swirled that neighbour Frances Bemis knew who killed Lindsley and would notify authorities. Bemis was later murdered on her nightly walk. Police arrested only one suspect for Lindsley's murder, which remains unsolved to this day. For someone who was a Leo, I don't think Athalia was a very happy person. I think she tried to bring others down, with her based on her ill-concealed dissatisfaction with the way things were. Unfortunately for her, her demise happened in a town that didn’t care for her.

Athalia Ponsell Lindsley, according to astrotheme, was a Leo sun and Libra moon (the moon is speculative). She was born Mary Anne “Athalia” Fetter in Toledo, Ohio in 1917. Her parents were both wealthy New Yorkers; her father was a utilities magnate and her mother a socialite. Shortly after her birth, she and her family moved to Isle of Pines (now known as Isla de la Juventud), Cuba where she was raised until the age of 12. By the time the parents moved to Jacksonville, Florida and enrolled her in parochial school, she was winning beauty contests and pursuing an acting career. After high school, she moved to New York City, where it didn’t take her long to be employed as a fashion model for the celebrated fashion designer John Robert Powers, which helped her land work in some Broadway musicals and as a hostess on a TV game show. By 1949, she was the hottest model in NYC. She was just as hot off the runway as well; the list of Ponsell’s sexual conquests was long, including the likes of actor Tyrone Power and Joseph P. Kennedy, Jr. She was reported to have been married three times, one of  them to a man named Ponsell, but there is no information on him or her other two spouses. She had a scrapbook of all the celebrities and people she was acquainted. But success had quickly gone to the young model’s head, and by 1954, she’d burned all her bridges at her modeling agency, and her reputation as “the bitch of New York” was well-earned and kept her from earning any more work in the entertainment industry.

Out of work, over the hill, and her looks fading, Ponsell quit her 20-years of modeling and entertainment work and retired to a white stucco mansion in St. Augustine in 1972. By that time, the 55-year-old washed-up model became embittered. From the moment she arrived in St.Augustine, she did her best to position herself at the top of the city’s high society. But the sides of that pyramid were very steep, and to the city’s old-school cultural hardliners, she was an outsider, and an obnoxious one, at that. St. Augustine is known for being a rather cliquish town, and unless you have Spanish, Menorcan, or WASP roots, any newcomer is looked at as an outsider. She was known as a pain in the ass, criticizing everything she thought was wrong with the town and its citizens. Naturally the upper crust didn’t take too well to her. She may have annoyed them, but she did catch the eye of another important person, Mayor James Lindsley, a St. Augustine native who went by the nickname “Jinx”. Jinx was known around the city for his ability to work hard and drink even harder. He was of the generation where if he was wronged, or if there was a problem, he settled his differences with his fists. Despite his passionate love affairs with ass kicking and Jack Daniels, Athalia was drawn to Jinx’s good standing with St. Augustine’s old guard, Jinx was attracted to her still-good looks and fiery personality. The two courted hard and fast, and just a few months after they met, they married.

Their marriage was rocky from the start, providing the town with juicy gossip. In fact, just 3 months into the marriage, the two separated. They wound up living in separate homes, fighting back and forth about possessions and property. She may have treated her husband and the town like dirt, but she was very moved by animals and took in a lot of strays and accumulated a coterie of animals. This didn’t endear herself to the neighbours, and they complained of dogs barking and other noises coming from her makeshift “animal shelter”. One neighbour in particular that took exception to Athalia and her animals was a hot-headed county manager called Alan Stanford. Stanford lived next door to her on Marine Street, and the two clashed from day one. Stanford filed several noise complaints against Athalia and her pets, resulting in her arrest. In revenge, she made Stanford’s life as county manager a living hell. She became a fixture at City Hall, attending every county meeting she could and accuse Stanford of all sorts of improprieties, from the mismanagement of county funds to stealing equipment from the road department. Some of these accusations weren’t entirely unfounded, but it got to the point where her presence was dreaded. She was after his job and wanted him fired. Stanford, in turn, threatened her life. December of 1973, she found out that Stanford lacked the civil engineering degree required for all county managers, and went to the state to report him.

On January 23, 1974 she attended her last city hall meeting, armed with petitions of several citizens calling for Stanford to resign. She exposed the fact that Stanford forged documents and padded his experience and qualifications as county manager. Later that day, to celebrate, she met her estranged husband Jinx for lunch. The day went surprisingly well, going shopping in Jacksonville and running errands. At approximately 5:30 pm, they both went home to their respective houses. As Athalia walked her pet blue jay around in her front yard, an intruder emerged from her back yard, armed with a machete. Moments later, the police department received a call about a murder. The police arrived to the provided address and found Athalia sprawled across the front steps of her porch, nearly decapitated and hacked to death with a machete in broad daylight.

The scene was chaotic, with neighbours trampling all over the grass trying to get a look, contaminating evidence. In their great police work, the cops never thought to rope off the crime scene. When her husband Jinx was notified of his wife’s murder, he took his time getting to her house, making a pit stop to his attorney’s office along the way. A few hours later, the cops find a machete in his pickup truck. But an open-and-shut case this was not. In February of 1974, the rumour was that Jinx killed her in a drunken rage. Even though Jinx had a violent temper and smacked his wife around, in the eyes of local investigators, he was “unarrestable”; they had no real evidence against the mayor and he even passed a lie-detector test. A tip from one of Athalia’s neighbours came in: it seems the neighbour’s 19 year-old son claimed to have witnessed her old nemesis Alan Stanford kill her. There was a trail of blood that led from Athalia’s front porch directly into Allen Stanford’s back yard. More than a few weren’t concerned with Athalia being killed because she was such a bitch that they feel that she deserved what she got.

In March of 1974, there was a blood-stained machete, a watch, and blood-soaked trousers found in a bag in a swamp; the blood on the clothes matched Athalia’s, and the clothes belonged to Stanford. On February 22, 1974, Alan Stanford was arrested and charged with murder. On January 1975, the murder trial commenced. The prosecution had a strong case and a guilty verdict seemed almost certain. Just before closing arguments, Stanford’s defense team called the 19-year old witness to the stand. Despite previously identifying Stanford as the killer, the young man was now unsure of the identity, having never actually seen the assailant’s face. On the day following the killing, a young nurse rode her bicycle as she always did. The police stopped her and questioned her about the murder. The nurse picked out a third suspect, deputy sheriff Dewey Lee, as the killer, further muddling the waters. The jury found Alan Stanford not guilty, despite the mountain of evidence against him. Local authorities were so upset by the verdict that they refused to re-open the case. Even though Stanford was acquitted of the murder, Athalia wound up getting the last laugh in the end, they local county board voted 4 to 1 to fire Stanford due to his lying about his credentials. He wound up leaving town shortly afterward. Today, St. Augustine is different; most who lived on Marine Street during the 1960s and 1970s have either moved away or passed away. Athalia’s house, now a historical landmark, still stands today, a grim reminder of how local resentment can go too far.

the murder of frances bemis

Frances Bemis was a socialite and neighbour of Athalia Ponsell Lindsley who happened to be a close friend of hers. Shortly after Lindsley’s murder, Frances started gathering information in order to write a book about the murder, claiming that she had information on what really happened. On November 3, 1974, she went for an evening walk and disappeared. Her body was found near her house, her skull crushed by a cement block. Her murder has never been solved.

This was the next analysis that I planned to do after the Robert Mitchum one, so I decided to just get this one out of the way.

Stats

birthdate: July 25, 1917*

*note*: due to the absence of a birth time, this analysis will be even more speculative.

major planets:

Sun: Leo

Moon: Libra

Rising: unknown

Mercury: Leo

Venus: Leo

Mars: Gemini

Midheaven: unknown

Jupiter: Gemini

Saturn: Leo

Uranus: Aquarius

Neptune: Leo

Pluto: Cancer

Overall personality snapshot: She had a prestigious, compelling presence, even when she was just clowning around, and a natural ability to command both respect and affection from her friends and colleagues. In the nicest possible way she assumed the position of the leader because she had a strong independent streak and believed in her lofty, worthy ideals, but she also gravitated towards collaboration and an impartial examination of the facts. She could be bossy and yet her bossiness was so diplomatic that it was convincing, even impressive. Although she wanted esteem and tended to identify with honourable goals and people, she could work alongside others she respected and she really wanted the best for everyone. She had style, and she instinctively knew that ‘manners maketh man’ and that, if for some reason they didn’t, they went a long way in making life worth living. When she came into her own, she developed a strongly aesthetic approach to life and are naturally creative. She needed a very positive, active medium through which to express herself, such as drama, teaching or running her own business.

Anything to do with beauty and harmony interested her, such as decorating, design and painting. Her interest in social equality took her into politics or the law. She had a strong sense of herself and stubbornly followed her own personal code of ethics, yet she also enjoyed being part of a group that had a common purpose or bond. She cherished ideals of liberty and equality, but if there were some distasteful tasks to perform she moved very smoothly into the role of delegating – well, she thought, someone has to give the orders around here or we would have no harmony at all. Although she seemed to enjoy an easy, breezy approach to life, there was quite a serious side to her personality, and she could be surprisingly controversial and provocative. She was willing to stand up and be counted, and perhaps make it look easy. She had a natural appreciation and enjoyment of the good things of life; she assumed that they should be hers by birthright. And through cunning charm, calculated boldness, and intelligent maneuver she managed to have plenty.

She was ambitious, sound at giving orders, carried responsibility well and was a good teacher, especially able to bring out the best in children. She believed in herself and generally knew the right thing to say at the right time, although she could show a stubborn and dogmatic side. She had a high opinion of her mental powers, and it was certainly true to say that he had plenty of mental energy. She was a mentally restless person, both versatile and broad-minded. She experienced personal growth through analysis and using her intellect, although the collection and communication of facts may have been an end within itself. She was a reliable and loyal person. Her will and sense of honour were strong and she was a great organizer. On the downside, her self-assuredness could become dogmatism and imperiousness. Conservatism may have affected her creativity, artistic values and love affairs. This expressed itself as self-imposed restrictions or as selfishness. She often felt inadequate, which created an insidious form of oppression over all her forms of expression. She could also take herself so seriously, that people think that she was older than her years.

She belonged to a generation that could be unpredictable in that it liked to instigate change simply for the sake of shaking things up and providing stimulation. Humanitarian ideals became extremely important, as well as the belief in absolute freedom for every individual. She came up with radical new ideas which she stubbornly followed. As a member of this generation, she may have felt deep spiritual convictions, although she may not have seen herself as religious in the traditional sense of the word. She was part of a very artistically talented and creative generation that wanted to escape from the demands of the world around them into a world of excitement and glamour. Members of this generation loved the theater and the cinema, in fact, any sort of creative self-expression. They also believed in the rights of any individual to express themselves. This generation was both idealistic and romantic, selfish and individualistic. Lindsley embodied all of these Leo Neptunian ideals. Also, as a member of the Leo Neptune generation, she experienced and fully embraced changes in sexual mores and attitudes, changing the way people approach the whole issue of romantic relationships. Changes were also experienced in the relationships between parents and children, with the ties becoming looser. She was part of a generation known for its devastating social upheavals concerning home and family. The whole general pattern of family life experiences enormous changes and upheavals; as a Cancer Plutonian, this aspect is highlighted with Lindsley’s father dying relatively young and her having to care for her mother until she died.

Love/sex life: There is never any question as to the ground rules of her erotic universe: what best served her ego, best served her libido. She had a marvelous capacity for enjoying sex but her pride and self-possession always came first. Some people might have found the egotism of this position offensive but many others hardly noticed. After all, a lover as lively, generous and exciting as she had good reason to be proud. There was always a distinctively theatrical quality about her love making. She wanted sex to be a big event, full of drama and intellectual significance. This grandiose approach to sex can certainly be entertaining but it often made her romantic moments seem less than spontaneous. More importantly, real life sex rarely met her cinematic standards. This is one reason why she often found the idea of love much more appealing than its physical manifestations.The sex in her head was never common or clumsy, and she could always count on great reviews.

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Capricorn

Lilith: Virgo

Her North Node in Capricorn dictated that she needed to develop the more caring and compassionate side to her personality and try to place less emphasis on the materialistic aspects of her life. Her Lilith in Virgo ensured that she exhibited a Madonna-whore complex; she made her way through the world with her sensational wits and she had no time for constricting judgments. She confronted the grittier facts of life, especially sex. She was good at sex but not as a form of sappy emotional expression.

elemental dominance:

fire

air

She was dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. She generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. She was exciting to be around, because she was genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, she could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Ultimately, she chose the latter. Confident and opinionated, she was fond of declarative statements such as “I will do this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because she was bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—she was be bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at her best, her confidence and vision inspired others to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves. She was communicative, quick and mentally agile, and she liked to stir things up. She was likely a havoc-seeker on some level. She was oriented more toward thinking than feeling. She carried information and the seeds of ideas. Out of balance, she lived in her head and could be insensitive to the feelings of others. But at her best, she helped others form connections in all spheres of their daily lives.

modality dominance:

fixed

She wasn’t particularly interested in spearheading new ventures or dealing with the day-to-day challenges of organization and management. She excelled at performing tasks and producing outcomes. She was flexible and liked to finish things. Was also likely undependable, lacking in initiative, and disorganized. Had an itchy restlessness and an unwillingness to buckle down to the task at hand. Probably had a chronic inability to commit—to a job, a relationship, or even to a set of values.

planet dominants:

Sun

Mars

Pluto

She had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. She likely had strong leadership qualities, she definitely knew who she was, and she had tremendous will. She met challenges and believed in expanding her life. She was aggressive, individualistic and had a high sexual drive. She believed in action and took action. Her survival instinct was strong. She wanted to take herself to the limit—and then surpass that limit, which she often did. She ultimately refused to compromise her integrity by following another’s agenda. She likely didn’t compare herself to other people and didn’t want to dominate or be dominated. She simply wanted to be free to follow her own path, whatever it was. She brought about complete and profound transformations in her life, good or bad (and it was often bad). She felt the need to let go of what was familiar to her and accept new and different ways of being and doing things. There were areas in her life where she had to accept regeneration, which involved the destruction of the old and the creation of the new.

sign dominants:

Leo

Gemini

Cancer

She loved being the center of attention and often surrounded herself with admirers. She had an innate dramatic sense, and life was definitely his stage. Her flamboyance and personal magnetism extended to every facet of her life. She wanted to succeed and make an impact in every situation. At her best, she was optimistic, honorable, loyal, and ambitious. She ventured out to see what else was there and seized upon new ideas that will expand their communities. Her innate curiosity kept her on the move. She used her rational, intellectual mind to explore and understand her personal world. She needed to answer the single burning question in her mind: why? This applied to most facets of her life, from the personal to the impersonal. This need to know sent her off to foreign countries, where her need to explore other cultures and traditions ranked high. She was changeable and often moody. This meant that she was often at odds with herself—the mind demanding one thing, the heart demanding the opposite. To someone else, this internal conflict often manifested as two very different people. At first meeting, she seemed enigmatic, elusive. She needed roots, a place or even a state of mind that he could call her own. She needed a safe harbor, a refuge in which to retreat for solitude. She was generally gentle and kind, unless he was hurt. Then she could become vindictive and sharp-spoken. She was affectionate, passionate, and even possessive at times. She was intuitive and was perhaps even psychic. Experience flowed through her emotionally. She was often moody and always changeable; her interests and social circles shifted constantly. She was emotion distilled into its purest form.

Read more about her under the cut.

Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was a former model, Broadway performer, actress, dancer and television personality who died in a savage late-afternoon attack at her home on Jan. 23, 1974. Wife of the once mayor of St. Augustine, James "Jinx" Lindsley, who died a few years after her death. Mrs. Athalia Lindsley was very active politically.

She also took in many animals, such as dogs, cats and even two goats. At the time of her murder, she was outside trying to rehabilitate one of her rescue birds, a blue jay named Clementine which had an injured wing. She had rescued the little bird from neighborhood cats.

Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was a very devoted daughter who took care of her mother full time until her mother passed away.

She was 58 years old when her life was brutally cut short.

A neighbor and local politician was the only person ever arrested and tried for her murder, after a very dramatic trial, a jury found the defendant not guilty, and he was acquitted

(x)

[spilled-some-blood]

Would you write a hoffman thing where the reader helps him escape the bathroom at the end of VII and they nurse him back to health🥺❤️

THE AMOUNT OF WHOLESOME

You knew what your boyfriend was doing, you knew what a terrible man he had become and that he was a killer, but you stayed by his side, even helped him at some points. Mark was your everything, even though you felt like sometimes he would give up your life to save his own, you still loved him. You couldn’t help but see the good in him, sure he had his dark side but there was a side of him that you only saw, the side of him that was loving and smiled, held you close to him in the morning, just made you feel like you were on cloud nine. 

Something tonight though felt wrong. You were sitting in your usual spot in bed with the pillows behind you propped up so you could sit comfortably while drinking your wine and reading, waiting for Mark to come home. You knew that Mark was a wanted man, he had planned to move both of you out of town soon and be on the run, sure it wasn’t how you expected your life to be with Mark but you’d do anything for him.

As your wine glass turned empty, you went to fill it again but the bottle was also empty. You checked the time seeing it almost be four in the morning and still no Mark. You looked at the muted tv that hung on the wall in front of your and Mark’s bed and grabbed the remote turning on the volume seeing Jill Kramer’s face come on the news.

“Over the past two hours, it seems our entire city has been shaken to its core,” the news reporter said, you closed your book putting it on the nightstand and focused all your attention on the screen, “in addition to the nine police employees killed tonight, Jill Tuck, the wife of serial killer John Kramer has been found dead.” Your hand went to your mouth in shock and turned off the tv, not even bothering with the rest. You knew this had to have been the work of Mark, who else would actually try to kill Jill and get away with it?

You quickly dialed Mark’s number praying for an answer but when the line went dead, you definitely knew something was wrong. You bothered to change into something different than just a t-shirt and shorts and knelt down to the box under your bed. You quickly did the combination and opened the box looking at Mark’s extra gun, the first gun that was supposed to be in the box was already gone. Mark had taught you how to shoot a gun just in case anyone tried to threaten you because of him so you knew what you were doing.

Reaching your car, you drove down the road as fast as you could without breaking any laws and having police pull you over and notice who you are. When you had reached the warehouse, you slammed on the brakes and didn’t even bother to turn off the car before you ran up the stairs to the warehouse, careful of any traps that had been left behind.

You were rushing to find Mark, not knowing if he was even alive or not. You hissed feeling something cut your leg and feeling the blood run down your leg but you ignored the pain and called Mark’s name. 

You screamed when someone wrapped their arms around you and tried to stab a needle into your neck but you kicked them in the groin sending them to the ground and grabbed the needle out of their hands. You knelt down by the person wearing a pig mask noticing a cane beside them as you grabbed it and snapped it in two.

“I expected better from you Lawrence, I called you my friend,” you sighed looking at Lawrence pulling off the pig mask, “tell Alison I say hi.” You then took the needle and stabbed Lawrence in the neck sending the doctor unconscious and kept moving to find Mark. 

You were walking around the warehouse, calling Mark’s name when you heard your name being said from a room near you. 

“Mark?” you asked looking at a steel wall-door that you heard your name come from. You looked at the door looking for a way in but it seemed that the handle was gone, “Mark, listen to me please, it’s me. I’m gonna get you out of here but you need to work with me.”

“Y/N just leave, change your name and live a normal life, I’m already fucked,” Mark said from the other side of the door as you tried to find a way to open the door, “I’m sorry, I never should have brought you into this life.”

“Stop saying that, I’m getting you out of here,” you said looking at the door still trying to find a way in when you noticed a hand saw left outside the door and started to use it to pry open the door actually getting somewhere.

You pulled the door open when you had it open enough and ran over to Mark. You noticed the deceased and rotted body of Adam beside Mark and started to try and open the chain around Mark’s foot.

“Just saw it off, I’ll live,” Mark said looking at you and the saw still in your hand.

You laughed placing your hand on Mark’s stitched up cheek, “let’s save that for a last resort, you’re already torn up enough.” Realizing that there wasn’t anything for you to use to pick the lock on the chains, you looked at Mark with a sad expression, “I’ll be right back, you just stay right here.” You could only pray that Lawrence was still asleep.

“Be careful,” Mark said as you smiled, kissing him quickly telling him you would.

When you finally reached Lawrence’s body, he was still asleep thankfully as you reached into his pant’s pocket looking for the key to the chains. There had to have been a key somewhere, how else would Lawrence lock the lock on the chains? You turned the doctor onto his stomach and checked his back pocket pulling out something metal and noticed it was a key.

“Gotcha,” you smiled running back to where Mark was waiting for you and showed him the key.

“Y/N, your leg,” you had completely forgot the state your leg had been in before Mark had pointed it out. You looked down and saw all the dried blood on your jeans and the giant gash in your leg. 

“I’ll be fine,” you said going over to Mark’s chains and shoving the key into the lock and turning it.

-----

When Mark had woken up, he was blinded by the bright light of the room, he tried to grasp at anything he could when he felt a hand intertwined with his own. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, Mark tried to sit up the best he could without pain when he noticed Y/N asleep next to him on a chair, her head resting on the pillow they were sharing and her hand holding his.

There was something special about you to Mark, something he didn’t want to lose, he wasn’t sure what he would do if you had been killed. He wanted your relationship to last with him, maybe even get married one day. He didn’t even know why you bothered to risk your life to save him from his bathroom tomb, but seeing you break into the bathroom was like he had seen a guardian angel come to save him. But there’s one thing he can understand best, he can’t see you again, he has to put an end to your relationship. He didn’t want you to become the next Jill Tuck, being interrogated and threatened everyday, being followed by journalists, getting her life ruined by a man. He’s not that selfish. 

Slowly and unexpectedly carefully for a man his size, Mark slips out of the bed and freezes when you start mumbling something in your sleep. When he makes sure you didn’t wake up, he walks to his clothes and dresses up, out of the more comfortable clothes you had dressed him in. He knows you’re the type of person to go searching for him so he takes out his cellphone, opens the back of it and pulls out the card, putting it on the table. This will be explanatory on itself, at least that’s what Mark thinks.

He went to the door and put on his shoes then his coat and lingers for a moment. He tries to stop himself, but he can’t. So he just returns to the bedroom, leans and presses a soft kiss on your hair.

“Goodbye.” He whispers, then straightens his back, turns and leaves closing the door behind him.

As he walks to the underground parking lot to his car, Mark feels angry and empty at the same time. Yet he knows this is for the best. The best way to keep you safe.

Mark is unlocking his car door when he feels arms wrap around him and turns around to face you staring up at him with tears in your eyes, “you were just gonna leave?!” Mark tried to push you away and get in his car but you pushed him away from the car and got in front of the car door, “I’m not letting you just leave and give this up.”

Mark turned away from you, it hurt him to see you crying and just wanted to take you into his arms and apologize but he couldn’t let himself break.

“Mark I care about you for fucks sake!” you yelled trying to knock some sense into Mark but he wouldn’t bother listening to you, “and you’re gonna be so fucking selfish to just leave? I save your life and this is how I’m repaid, you leaving me with a broken heart as if I mean nothing to you.”

“Why did you come for me?” Mark asked, his hand on the door handle as if he was contemplating if he was actually going to leave or not, “you should have left me there, let me rot in that bathroom. But you risked your life for me, you risked people knowing of our relationship to get me.”

“It seems I’ve shown my hand, hm?” you mused. “You’re quite right… I should have done all of that.” Your intense gaze seemed to burn through Mark. “But on this particular occasion, what I wanted wasn’t what was most logical.”

“What are you saying, Y/N?” Mark murmured, his hand leaving the handle and turning to face you.

You brought a hand to cup Mark’s face, almost tenderly.

“I’m saying that dear Lawrence was wrong. And so was everyone else, including you. All of you think that you can’t feel… that you can’t love.” You drew out the word ‘love’ in a sing-song tone, grinning. Then your expression turned serious again. “Lawrence was right about one thing, though. Everyone has a weakness. And it just so happens… you’re mine.”

Mark looked at you.

“I would burn down this entire town for you. I would risk so much. And don’t ever forget that.”

 “I won’t,” Mark whispered breathlessly.

[razorblade180-heated]

Missing You

[Smut! Lasting Embers AU]

“Finally! Home again!” Yang shouted into her house, followed by the giggling from feeling Jaune’s arms wrap around her waist.

“Only this time it’s for real.” He kissed her cheek. “Second time’s the charm.”

They walked in slowly just to take the moment in. Ten plus years of fighting had a way of making Yang very sentimental, not to mention thankful for marrying someone who never gave up on her return.

Jaune finally let go to get something for her to eat since she was probably hungry from the journey back, but was quickly pulled back into another comforting hug.

“You know, I think I missed this feeling the most.” She said as she took in his scent. “You’re as warm and calming as the day I left.”

“Which time?”

“Both, I can never describe how much I missed you.”

Jaune could say the same. Instead he lifted his wife’s head up and stole a kiss. It was passionate, not to mention liberating. All this time and it felt just like he remembered; time might’ve made it stronger even. He finally broke it off and planted another on her forehead that made her blush more than she already was.

“This almost feels like a dream. You and Yujin kept me going but even I started to think-”

“Sssshhh” Jaune said,rubbing her face. A tear threatened to appear on Yang that he wiped away. “Believe me, I know. Not a day went by that I didn’t ache for you. Yujin too, but we got through it all thankfully. Rest now and I’ll make you something.”

His words soothed her soul in a way only he could. They wouldn’t sway her from letting Jaune get out all his emotions however. “Jaune…” his name escaping her lips slowly.

Yang had stood on her toes and gave him a more passionate kiss. Jaune couldn’t help but groan as her hands rubbed his chest and her tongue invited itself into his mouth. The intensity brought them stumbling to the ground into a straddle, a thin trail of saliva still connecting them even after stopping the kiss.

Jaune’s eyes were trained on Yang’s body in its entirety. Not just in lust, but in longing. Hair, eyes, smile, blemishes, he missed it all so much.

“It couldn’t have been easy keeping faith, or raising Yujin. Yet you did it in strides.”

“Believe me, there was dark days”

“I know.” Yang pressed her body against him and put her forehead on his. The shared expression of deep desire sunken into them. “Just let it all out. I want...I need you to show me how much you missed me. Her breathing became slightly unstable. Yang’s beautiful lilac eyes drifted up and down him as they became red “because I really need to show you how much I missed you.”

A switch flipped inside of Jaune. He couldn’t stop himself from stealing another kiss, one that was hungrier than the last. He quickly went for Yang’s neck and started leaving heated kisses all over it, his teeth sinking into it to mark the pale flesh red.

Yang’s body shifted and rubbed up on him as every single thing they did made her moan for him. “Please don’t tease long…”

“Endure it.” His tone more strict from desire.

That tone could give him anything he wanted right now. Yang ironically was always the meeker one when it came to these sort of things, What could she say? It felt good to be the one being out of control for once. “Yes sir” was she could manage before Jaune removed her shirt and bra.

No time was wasted kneading and sucking on the mounds of flesh. He was going to worship every bit of her.

“Aaaa~ Fucking…..aaahh!” Yang’s hands clenched Jaune’s hair and held on for dear life. His body leaned forward until Yang’s back was against the carpet. To think the floor would be there setting for such a reunion? It was perfect. The bed would probably break.

Yang’s hips raised up by reflex and Jaune immediately removed her pants before stripping himself too.Funny how years apart didn’t change their speed in times like these.

Jaune took a moment to examine his wife yet again. Her toned thighs, sculpted arms, trained waist, and heavily breathing chest. Not to mention her dripping core she oh so let him see by spreading her legs. There were a few more scars than before, that was natural. So was the natural blemish that would come from age, mainly a few wrinkles and knowing Yang, she probably wished she was a tad skinnier.

“As beautiful as the day we met”

Those words made her look away from him. It wasn’t fair how he always knew what to say. “Lady Killer as always.”

He smirked and bent down until his breath could be felt against the wanting woman’s clit. He gave it an antagonizing slow lick before dipping his tongue lower to properly taste her. Earning him the sweet sound of a moan bellowing out for Yang.

He made his way inside of her and held her legs in place. Yang couldn’t help but quiver and shake as she felt Jaune’s tongue lap up her overflowing juices. This felt better than she remembered. Way better! Yang propped herself up with her arm to see his cobalt blue eyes looking right at her. He was so hot, so...everything. She had forgotten just how much he made her feel like she was everything.

“Jaune!” She whined. “It’s too much!”

He slid his tongue out. “Good.” There was that voice again. His mouth formed around her sensitive nub and Jaune began sucking and slurping while his middle finger took the place of his tongue.

“For fu...fu..ah gods.” It was indeed too much for Yang. Only a few thrust was more than enough before her walls clamped around the digit and her body convulsed from her orgasm. Yang wasn’t sure how she managed to go as long as she did with Jaune’s touch, but it wasn’t happening again.

Finally he was able to remove his finger. The sheer amount of excitement he got from feeling just how wet and hot she was pushed him to finally progress. “Yang, get on-”

Yang was already moving. Not to his orders, at least not at first. She turned her body around to face and grabbed a hold of his seven inch member and wrapped it around her mouth.

No sounds were made besides the subtle wet sucking and not so subtle groans as he throbbed in Yang’s mouth. Somehow resisting the urge to thrust as he felt her tongue glide across the underside.

‘His taste is thicker, more potent.’ She thought as she bobbed her head deeper. She felt his right hand press on her cheek and blushed deeper as Jaune was clearly enjoying it.

“You’re so sexy.” He groaned. Yang did everything in her power to not stop blowing him right then and there and just let him go at her. She wanted to do this though. After all this time, Yang wanted to do as much as possible. That included a load to the mouth. She wouldn’t admit it but the anticipation was making her so hot for him.

“Get ready for a mouthful.” Gods it was like he was reading her mind. Everything he said was what she wanted to hear. A slight tense in his grip signaled Yang to open wider, accepting the violent twitches of his shaft releasing thick ropes of cum that blanketed her throat. The taste was stronger too. Just how much was Jaune pent? Did he ever touch himself, he had to right? She sure did.

Jaune watched her gulp it down all at once before licking the tip of his still very erect length.Yang finally stopped and layed on her side with one leg bent and her forearm propping herself up. Jaune took the bent leg and put it on his right shoulder while his right hand held her hip.

“I love you.” He said while he rubbed the tip against her. Jaune knew he might not be able to say much once they started.

“I love you too.” Yang’s words dripped with lustful passion. “No please bury that cock into your wife and give it to her in your favorite position.”

Jaune slid in with no resistance whatsoever. Both gasped at the sudden feeling and Jaune’s right hand squeezed more around her shapely ass than her hip now.

Their eyes locked at Yang could already feel the heat start to rise in her core that threatened to melt Jaune in slick pleasure. In this position, he was gonna hit every spot from the start. His left hand grabbed Yang’s left boob for added pleasure and he thrusted deep.

Tight, she was overwhelmingly tight. “Yang!”

“Move! Don’t you dare hold back!”

He wasn’t planning on it. Jaune pulled back before thrusting his hips forward again and again and again; rapidly picking up his speed. Each thrust scraped a little deeper and kissed Yang’s womb. Years without practice and they were still in sync, making their emotions flare even more.

Yang’s nails dug into the carpet for any kind of leverage against Jaune’s passionate rutting. There wasn’t a movement that didn’t make her moan loudly and stir her up. Yang tried to bite her bottom lip to gain any sense of self control but it was a far cry from working. Her body showed many ways to Jaune just how much pleasure he was giving her.

Her pale skin was now covered in a thin layer of sweat and flushed all over. Strands of her long, beautiful hair clung to her face in a way that mesmerized Jaune. The way he looked at her only made Yang feel more sensitive, the sound and smell of her own arousal filling the room.

“I missed you so fucking much Jaune!” Her voice pleaded, letting all her emotions run free. Yang reached out to him with one arm and Jaune graciously bent forward.

It hooked itself around Jaune’s neck and Yang pulled him into their hottest kiss yet. Jaune never stopped moving his hips into her. As far as he was concerned, her love was the only thing sustaining him right now. The love he had been starved of for so agonizingly long.

“I’m never letting you go again.” Jaune all but growled. “I was...so lonely. Everything hurt some way without you.”

Jaune's left hand caressed her body and clung to it as if it might slip away. Yang couldn’t help but ache and yearn even more from his words. Their shared loneliness drives them heights better than any dream they might’ve had throughout the years. He made her feel so good, so...happy.

Time seems to erase itself as they continue their intense love making. What could’ve only been around twelve or so minutes felt like hours. And as much as Yang didn’t want it to end, she had been staving off her orgasm for half of that time.

The word “close” was all she could muster to say but he got the message. Jaune leaned into her ear.

“Your voice, body, everything…” he whispered. “I want to feel all of it again.” His thrusts got even harder and Yang could only hold her head down and shut her eyes tight as his words broke her down. Teetering on the edge never felt this incredible. Finally he said the one thing that she waited to hear since they started.

“Cum for me.” His voice, extra low… “my dragon”

A nickname that should’ve been inappropriate for this moment, and yet it’s what did her in.Yang had no choice but to scream as her body gave into Jaune’s command to cum, her blazing hot core coiling around him with suffocating grip in an attempt to milk Jaune of everything he had to give.

Jaune made no attempt to resist the pleasure and his body tensed up several thrusts later. Ropes of cum spurted right into her womb. Sending strong chills across Yang’s body as she rode out her orgasm with Jaune, with quiet groans of pleasure still lingered from both of them.

Jaune finally put her leg now which surprisingly didn’t cramp. Jaune’s body nearly fell on top of Yang’s before he managed to catch himself. Now they were face to face again with eyes that were still filled with fire as well as happiness.

Yang’s finger traced his lips before giving him a quick and gentle kiss. “You’ve gotten better with age.” Her face grew red at her own compliment.

Jaune smirked. “I’m not the only one.” He took Yang’s left hand and planted a small kiss right on her wedding ring that damn near made her heart explode.

“It’s not fair, turning the sexy off and on like that.” Yang giggled. She cradled Jaune’s face and smiled. “No more lonely nights, I promise.”

A gave her a comforting nod. Yang couldn’t begin to imagine how many brave faces he had given their daughter, or the anxiety of getting terrible news over the phone. A person can only take so much and Jaune had gotten his fair share of loss. They all had, Yang wanted to take some of that pain away.

The husband and wife found themselves kissing each other again. It couldn’t be helped, they had to make up for lost time. What started off lovingly quickly turned back into something more passionate and wanting as Yang let out a sudden gasp at the feeling of Jaune getting hard while still inside of her. Good thing Arc stamina went well with Xiao Long intensity.

”One more round?” He asked, flipping back on the sexy and husky voice. It really was too powerful for Yang’s own good in most situations. Most…

Her arms went under his and held on to his well toned and muscular back. “Two, and maybe one more right after unless you can’t handle-” she couldn’t even get here tease out before she felt Jaune go a little deeper, her cocky attitude immediately went cold as Jaune whispered in Yang’s ear again.

“We’re gonna be here awhile,ready to stop walking straight?”

“Yes sir.” Yang was glad to be home.

xxxx

A couple of hours passed and Tai had decided to stop by for a visit with Ruby, Yujin, and Raven. It would be nice to have a family dinner. All four stood quietly moments after entering.

Yang was laying on the couch watching TV while Jaune was cooking. Raven noticed the carpet marks on Yang’s arm, Tail was staring at the carpet cleaner that was left out, Ruby looked at the wide open window, and Yujin could see that both parents' hair was slightly wet. There was only so many reasons to shower at this time of day.

But they all could faintly catch a whiff of something. Yujin had zero experience in anything and yet she knew deep down what she was smelling. They all looked at Yang who didn’t turn around but showed visibly red ears. Same with Jaune.

Tai sighed, can we make this a cookout?

“Great idea.” The other three said at once. Jaune and Yang covered their faces. Next time, they would at least make it upstairs.

[wonderwomanfantasy]

you either die a hero...

Yes this IS exactly like another Izuku blurb I just posted. 

 Izuku x Friend! Reader Shigiraiki x Reader (not really )

word count: 2,400 (about)

warnings: Swearing, major angst, bullying, the reader is a jerk in this one, fighting,

summary: You didn’t know why but you wanted to hurt Izuku, hurt him the way he hurt you, Shigiraki was glad to help. 

There was a saying about heroes, Villains, and love. To heroes, their lovers always came second some nebulous Idea of “the greater good,” and if push came to shove. A Hero would always sacrifice their love if the world was on the line.  But a Villian? for all their faults, A Villain was aloud to love selfishly and wholeheartedly. you didn’t know where you had first heard that saying, but it stuck with you. 

You had met Midoriya on the very first day of kindergarten when the two of you spent recess playing heroes. you were always the bad guy, running around the playground dodging Midoriya who was the self-proclaimed hero. Neither of you had developed a quirk yet so you played pretend. Sometimes the two of you spent more time cooking up potential quirks than you did actually chasing each other. 

You were never Izuku’s best friend, you never really saw him outside of school but that wasn’t to say the two of you weren’t close. especially when you both found out you were quirkless. Although the lack of powers didn’t stop either of you from dreaming. 

“(y/n)?” Izuku asked breathlessly, the two of you had exhausted yourself chasing each other around the playground and you were panting just as much as him 

“What? You want a rematch?” you teased. You were always a little bit faster than the green-haired boy.

“When we get older and become heroes together we should get married,” he offered with the innocence only a child could manage.” think about it! we would be a super tough quirkless crimefighting duo and-” and he was rambling too fast for you to keep up with.

Your eyes went wide,  not sure what to say. On the one hand, boys had germs and were gross and you definitely didn’t want to marry one. But Izuku wasn’t gross, he was your friend and who else would you marry? the only other boy you talked too was Bakugou and you gaged at the thought of marrying him. 

“I’d love to Izuku!!” you shouted, cutting him off, and from that day forward you were an engaged woman.

You staid close to Izuku throughout middle school, although you let go of your dream to become a hero, Midoryia never did. He still raced towards every fight, eager to learn everything he could from each fight. 

You didn’t really see the point. no matter how many fighting styles he memorized or how many quirks he knew forwards and backward, it wasn’t going to give him a quirk of his own. you would never say it out loud but you just didn’t really see how he could become a hero. 

A villain maybe, black market weapons would make up for a lack of quirk and with his extensive knowledge of each hero’s weakness he could wipe out the competition without a problem. But Izuku cried if you even joked about him becoming a villain, so again you kept those thoughts to yourself. 

Still, Izuku was your friend and outwardly you always encouraged him, even going as far as to apply to UA with him just to make him feel better. Although you were only applying to the general studies course. you also applied to other schools in the area positive that you wouldn’t make the cut. 

You had read and reread the acceptance letter until the words had been burned into your mind. you had gotten into UA. You had run the entire way to Izuku’s house, tears of joy stung your eyes as you rattled the door with your fist. similar tears of joy were in the corners of Inkos eyes when she finally let you in. Izuku gripped you tightly in his arms before spinning you into the air. Both of you were screaming and crying too much for propper congratulations but the message was clear, you wouldn’t have to say goodbye to Izuku just yet, you both were going to UA. 

That happened to be the last time you saw Izuku for a very long time. Maybe you should be happy that the last memory of your best friend was such a happy one, and besides its not like everyone held on to their childhood friends. But it still stung seeing him around campus with his new classmates. He only occasionally waved to you in the hall when he did see you and every time you texted him he responded with short replies hours sometimes days later.

Izuku’s blind optimism must have rubbed off on you. That was the only explanation for why you had held on to the belief that you could keep Midoriya in your life let alone the childish promise to marry each other.

Besides, it wasn’t like you didn’t have your own friends, a lot of the general studies kids were great people, even if half of them were kids who didn’t want to be in GS and were gunning for the hero course. 

You weren’t looking forward to the Sports Festival. You weren’t all that athletic and if you were being honest you were kind of scared of some of the hero course kids. You were lucky, you didn’t even make it past the enormous wall of ice one of the students shot off. Wich was fine by you, it meant you could spend the rest of the festival in the stands watching a bunch of teenagers kick the shit out of each other. It wasn’t like anyone was cheering for you anyway. 

You perked up the second Izuku entered the ring against Shinsou. You weren’t sure who to cheer for, your old friend or your new one. You didn’t know when Izuku developed a quirk.you would have thought he would tell you. you felt stupid for still thinking he was quirkless like you. 

When had he become so powerful? stong enough to shatter not only Shinsou’s hold on him but his own bones as well. the cheers around you were defining but it was almost like you couldn’t hear anything. 

Why hadn’t he told you? Did he not want to make you feel pathetic for not having a quirk? you pushed the thought away. you didn’t care what Deku thought about you, he had his reasons and you didn’t need to know about it. Besides, the two of you weren’t really friends anymore so what did it matter? you couldn’t wait for this stupid festival to be over. 

Even though you had already decided not to press the issue, but you couldn't help yourself and you tracked Midoriya down after he was eliminated from the sports festival. It wasn’t exactly hard, after all there was only once place he could be. 

You stood awkwardly in Recovery girl's office. the old woman looked up at you kindly and asked what she could do for you.

“Uh- frostbite at least I think that's what it is that Todoroki kid hit me with that giant ice tower,” you mumbled showing her a reddened patch of skin, you knew it wasn’t frostbitten it didn’t even hurt but Recovery girl examed it carefully ad kissed your cheek. 

“You might feel a little dizzy you may need to sit down,” she warned, you plaid along and she lead you deeper into her office before getting distracted by others who were actually hurt, which was fine by you, it made it easier to search for Izuku.

He was alone on the hospital bed, perfect for an ambush. 

“Oh hey (y/-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you demanded he blinked

“What did you think? that I would get jealous or something?” you demanded and maybe you would have been hurt by your last friend also developing a quirk and leaving you behind, but no more than you were hurt by this lie right now. You thought back to every time he fantasized about a quirk with you. How much of that had just been him humoring you?

He was silent so you filled the gap. “I thought we were friends. Friends tell each other these things!”  you hadn’t realized it but you were starting to get choked up. you could see tears forming in his eyes and you knew if he cried you would burst into tears as well. 

“(y/n)-” that was all he said, no excuse or explanation just your name. 

“Was that too much to ask Izuku? for you to treat me like a friend?” you asked and this time he remained completely silent. you turned away and stormed out of the office. 

That was the night you had stumbled across Stain the hero killer. You really hadn’t been looking for something like that, just looking for a quick pick me up but instead, you had stayed up all night and watched every video you could find on him. Something about his message just spoke to you. Maybe you were only susceptible to his words because you had been hurt or maybe it was just the right time. 

Izuku tried to text you and call you several times but you ignored him, you didn’t want to hear him crying. Besides, you were feeling pretty shitty about yelling at him. either way, he got the message and now you never saw him except at a distance. which was fine. No different from how things normally were. so why did hurt now?

You walked home from UA alone, your body moving on autopilot as you walked down the familiar path. 

“Hey Girly,” a gruff voice spoke from behind you making you jump slightly before picking up the pace, pretending you didn’t hear him. 

“Don’t ignore me like you didn’t hear,” the man growled and you stopped, unable to ignore him. 

“I’m sorry are you lost?” you asked hopefully, luck was not on your side. the man who stopped you gave you crooked smile. 

“Spare change Schoolgirl?” he asked pulling his hand out of his pocket showing you the blade of a knife. you flicked your eyes around the street, It didn’t look like there was anyone else. You rolled your shoulder back stealing your nerve

“no, I’m sorry,” you said backing up. 

“Lair-” he hissed bringing the blade out fully in a large sweeping arch, but it didn’t come any were near you, it was clear this guy wasn’t really trying to hurt you. 

“Leave her alone!” a sharp cry came from behind your attacher, He turned and saw Izuku ready to attach the man, although he didn’t look very intimidating, more like he was ready to flick a fly from the air.

“I don’t have to use my quirk on you but I will!” He threatened, which irked you for some reason, You had always been the one protecting poor defenseless Izuku because while he was waiting for some quirk to just drop in his lap you had actually learned to defend yourself. Now he had a quirk and he thought he was hot shit, did he forget that you had always been fine without him. 

Before you could protest Izuku lunged knocking the man into a building with a single flick of his finger, breaking the bone instantly. You were furious that he would hurt himself so carelessly like that. The worst part was you knew he thought nothing of it because he had “saved” you. 

“I don’t need your help Midoriya I would have been fine on my own.” you snapped.

“Are you mad at me for saving you?” Izuku barked 

“I didn’t ask for your help! I don’t need you to save me!” you shouted back

“What were you going to do fight him off yourself? He had a knife! and you’re-” he cut himself off but you knew what he was about to say

“I’m defenseless? is that it? you think I can’t handle myself just because I don’t have a quirk?” you demanded you strode over to him and socked him in the jaw sending your childhood friend to the ground.

“At least Bakugou is open about the fact he thinks less of me cus I’m quirkless, if you think I’m pathetic just say it!” you screamed looming over him. He scuddled back on his hands and feet in fear. you glared at him. What the hell did he have to be scared of? he could break buildings with the flick of his wrist. 

“You can think that I’m a loser because I’m quirkless all you want Deku but you got a superpower and you’re still a loser, so what’s your excuse?” you demanded. You had heard Midoryia had taken Deku as his hero name, so you didn’t know if the old Nickname still hurt him the way it used to. You hoped it did. Izuku stood up and bowed low. 

“Get home safe (y/n)” He said to the ground before turning and running back in the direction of his home. you watched him run until his green hair was out of sight. 

you fought back tears and looked away. Just then the would-be mugger groaned and stood. “What the fuck are you still doing here? desperate to get rough up or what?” the man demanded. you cursed under your breath, despite what you told yourself and Midoyra, this wasn’t a fight you were sure you could win. 

Just then a second man stepped out from the shadows and wrapped his hand around your attacker’s wrist. In front of your eyes, e crumbled to dust. you sucked air thought your teeth, your eyes wide. The second man turned to you and you recognized him. 

Shigiraki Tomura, the leader of the LOV. you had seen his name pop up a few times while you had been binging Stain content. Shigiraki smirked at your terrified face. 

“I hope you won’t sucker punch me for saving you too,” he was joking you realized. still, a shiver went down your spine, he didn’t just stumble upon you, he had been watching for a while. 

“N-No,” you mumbled, 

“Don’t be scared, I wouldn’t have saved you if I wanted you hurt you would I?” He reasoned taking a step forward. you didn’t have the will to run away

“I guess not,”

“I’ll walk you home so no more lowlifes bother you,” he decided falling into step beside you. “and we can talk as we go,”

Shigiraki had been interested in you for a while, a stain sympathizer inside UA walls could be useful after all, but seeing how desperate the green-haired brat was to save you, and how reluctant he was to fight you only solidified his resolve to get you on his side. you were going to be a very useful piece in his game if you played along that is. he flexed his hand in his sweatshirt pocket, ready to strike at the first sign of resistance. 

very useful, if you lived long enough to be a villain.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

A Mere Mortal - Chapter 6

A/N: This story is based on Landlord Vampire Fic Frenzy hosted by the amazing @just-the-hiddles​

The last chapter guys! Can’t believe this series is ending! I had a LOT of fun writing this and hope you had as much fun reading ;))

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Bucky Barnes x Vampire! Loki x Human! Reader

Word count: 2427

Warnings: Angst, kissing, some fluff. 

Tags: @buckybarnesplumwhore​​​ @ladyacrasia​​​ @tcc-gizmachine​​​ @alexakeyloveloki​​​ @rogerrhqpsody​ @eveybitch 

…

Your body was on fire yet again.

Every touch every kiss made your head spin. He was leaving a trail of hot kisses down your jaw and neck before reaching the spot that made you moan loudly as he sucked hard.

You rolled over and straddled his hips placing your hands over his chiseled chest. You leaned down to kiss him and he sighed opening his mouth to allow your tongue to explore. The fight for dominance continued as his hands tugged your hair. You slid your own in his raven black hair.

You rolled your hips against his clothed erection earning another grunt from him. You were placing wet kisses down his torso almost reaching the waistband of his underwear when he grabbed you and spoke in that deep honey dripping voice,

“We have plenty of time for that later darling. Allow me to taste you first.” Your eyes flew open as you stared at Loki’s lust filled face.

Gasping loudly, you scrambled awake, looking around the silent, dark bedroom, hair a terrible mess, sheets sticking to your sweaty body. There was no sign of movement anywhere as your rapid breathing slowed down. Bear’s faint snores by the foot of your bed was the only sound in the room as you turned on the lamp.

These recurring dreams were starting to scare you. Almost every night you woke up drenched in sweat, involuntarily turned on and terrified out of your wits. At first, you thought they’d go away like any other dream, but this was starting to seem deliberate.

Could it be? Did Loki have the ability to control your dreams? There was no handbook of Vampires 101 to confirm your theories.

…

The clock read 4:00 am as you stretched out on the sofa with the computer on your lap as you went through endless articles about alleged vampire attacks in Dewsbury. Sleep had evaded you long back, so you chose to get yourself a glass of milk in hopes that it’ll find its way back.

A top most article about Jenny’s death caught your eye as the page loaded to the local news site, heartbeat quickening as you read through the description. The fact that you knew the killer that you had occasional wet dreams about the same man and who’d possibly kill you without flinching made your throat go dry.

A shadow moved across a large window to your left as you saw from the corner of your eye. Sitting up immediately, you put the laptop away and went into the kitchen to grab a knife. Making sure the front door was locked, you went around guardedly checking all the bolts in the windows. Heart pounding out of your chest at this point, you saw no movement outside, yet heard Bear barking loudly from your bedroom.

Was the window shut? Did he see something too?

As frightened as you were, you ran upstairs with the knife clutched tightly in one hand and looked around your bedroom after flicking the lights on. Bear immediately trotted to your side, no longer barking but whimpering faintly. Adrenaline was coursing through your body and it felt like every single cell was wary for signs of intrusion.

“I guess it was nothing buddy.” Your feeble voice tried to calm your down more than the pup.

As if on cue, your phone rang from downstairs making you jump. Bear followed you down the stairs as you went over to the table to see who would be calling at this hour.

It was Bucky.

You had been ignoring his calls and messages all week, still not ready to face the whole situation.

How does one face such a situation? Was he outside your door just lurking in the dark?

Considering not picking it up, you were about to walk away but something inside you made you reach for it and attend the call.

“Will you stop patrolling outside like a fucking stalker?” you demanded rudely.

“I—what? (Y/N) I’m not. Do you see someone outside right now? Do not open the door unless I tell you it’s me. I’m coming over right now. Please stay inside (Y/N). It’s not safe.” He kept rambling, his voice evident with panic and concern before he kept the call, leaving you more terrified than before.

…

You were pacing around the room, after turning on every single light in the house, fingers tapping on your arm nervously as you waited for Bucky to arrive. Outside, the sky had turned the faintest shade of pink and grey marking the approaching dawn.

Three sharp knocks on your door made you jump out of your skin and Bear stand up & cautiously stare at the door. You heard a ‘(Y/N), it’s me’ in Bucky’s distinct voice, which you had missed even though you wouldn’t admit.

Opening the door slightly, you peered out to find Bucky’s face covered in a fluffy scarf leaving only his beautiful steel blue eyes visible, hands tucked inside his sweater, looking at you in concern.

“Are you alright?” concern evident in his voice, after pulling the scarf down to his neck.

You just shrugged in response, opening the door further for him to come inside.

“I thought vampires don’t get chilly.” You turned your back on him as you walked inside, your voice quiet.

“Well that’s a myth.”

As Bucky stepped in, Bear began growling viciously, baring his teeth.

“Could you, um—” he began, gesturing at the dog but you cut him off, turning to face him.

“He stays here. Shh. It’s okay Bear, he means no harm. Actually I don’t know.” You pacified the pup who reluctantly stopped, but kept eyeing Bucky as he removed his jacket and scarf and placed it on your coat hanger.

Bucky turned his gaze on you as you said those words, guilt visible in his eyes, “I would never cause you any harm (Y/N). I never meant for you to find out. Not this way at least.”

You wanted to believe him, the sincerity in his eyes made the ice wall you built around you melt a little. You didn’t know how to feel still, sitting on your sofa you gestured for him to take a seat. He smiled gratefully as he sat next to you albeit keeping his distance. Bear walked up from his spot and jumped up to settle in your lap protectively, making you scratch him behind his ears in reassurance.

“So, if you weren’t lurking outside this house, why did you call me? You had a ‘feeling’ I’d be awake?” you knew you were being rude, air quoting ‘feeling’ for emphasis but there was a considerable amount of anger inside.

“I had a nightmare that you were hurt. I wanted to make sure you were okay, you answering the call confirmed my fears that you were in trouble.” He answered honestly, there wasn’t a trace of deceit or falsehood anywhere.

“Oh” suddenly the back of Bear’s head seemed more interesting as you felt a pang of guilt at his admission.

None of you said anything for a few moments, the sky outside had turned lighter as the fog outside started to disappear along with the gloom.

“I’m sure you must have a lot of questions (Y/N). I’m here to answer them.” Bucky murmured softly after a long silence.

You cleared your throat as if to begin your interrogation and straightened up, suddenly becoming aware of your outfit. You must’ve been looking like a wreck in your ratty old shirt and sweaty bottoms that clung to your legs, you hadn’t even bothered with your hair.

“So when did you, um—I mean how did all this even—uh” you struggled to string together a simple question. Understandably, Bucky helped you out.

“It’s okay, I understand. Let me begin by telling you my story?”

Your wordless nod encouraged him.

“My family has been here since early 1900s, my mother, father, my sister Evelyn and I bought a home which you’ve been to.” He gestured to you as he spoke.

“So you did lie about Evelyn.” You couldn’t help but interrupt. This time it was Bucky’s turn to bow his head in guilt.

“Continue.”

“I was born in the year 1950 and my sister two years later. We were that clichéd happy family for years. My parents were very social so we’d have parties at our house every other day. That is how we came across Lucas Klyn. He was a young businessman from a little town in England. Charming in his ways he had no problem in enticing my little sister. Evelyn fell madly in love and had plans of eloping with the man, until of course she discovered his secret. She threatened to reveal his truth to the public which didn’t end very well on her part. Nor mine.”

He paused as a sad, wistful look spread across his face and without a second thought you reached out to hold his hand which was resting on the back of your couch. He looked surprised but gave you a small smile at the gesture in return.

“I heard Evelyn’s screams from the woods one night and went outside to find her running away from Lucas. It was as if a predator were stalking their prey. Before I could help, I saw Lucas such the life out of Evelyn’s body and snap her neck. I was too late. I couldn’t save my sister. She was just 26 at the time.” He paused again, closing his eyes as he recalled that fateful night.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, squeezing his hand once more.

“Lucas came after me next as I ran for my life, he caught up in no time and grabbed me from behind and fed on me. He taunted me to run but I was too weak. He fed me his blood forcefully before snapping my neck and killing me instantly. And just like that I was the first vampire in Dewsbury in 1978.”

His words sent shivers down your spine. For forty two years this man was dead, a walking corpse. A vampire. And he was sitting right opposite you, telling you a folklore of his own life. He was a victim just like his sister. He was innocent and he had been telling the truth this whole time.

“So you died in 1978? How did you—?”

“Survive? It took years and years just to accept what I was. I didn’t let my parents notice. I moved away under the pretext of higher studies. I went to England to find Lucas, and when I did find the bastard, I killed him.”

“I met Loki there, who helped me a great deal when I found out what he was as well. Turned out Lucas had made several enemies there. Loki became a friend and he moved to Dewsbury with me a few years later when I received the news of my parents passing in a road accident.”

“I didn’t want to live here anymore so I moved to the States. I met Sam in 2018.” He admitted as your eyes went wide at the confession.

“Sam as in my Sam? How did you—? Wait he’s not a—” you couldn’t believe it.

Sam knew Bucky? Did he know what Bucky was? Was he a vampire too? Had he been lying to you this whole time as well?

“No he isn’t. Calm down (Y/N).” he could see the panic in your eyes and he grabbed your upper arms to pacify you.

“He told me about you, he always spoke about you. One day I got a chance to see you in that café with Sam. I was fascinated by you since then. Something about you made me want to know you better.”

“You were such a free spirit, an independent woman who move from one place to another in search of stories. The fact that you had an idea of moving to Dewsbury excited me. I saw it as an opportunity to meet you, know you.” He admitted quietly.

Your head was spinning at this recently acquired information. On one hand you were glad that he was being so honest with you, you felt bad for the guy for having gone through so much, flattered that he thought you were interesting enough.

A pitter-patter of raindrops reached your ears before you saw out the window; the initial drizzle quickly turned into a downpour, turning the sky a deep shade of grey again.

“It’s a lot to take in I know, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Loki isn’t bad, but he has a hard time getting control of his emotions. Trust me, I know.”

“He killed an innocent woman and left her on the streets.” You countered.

“Because he saw us kissing that night. He’s quite fascinated by you too. I don’t blame him though.” He replied coolly, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked at you.

Rolling your eyes at this comment, you huffed, “I have the ability to attract vampires it seems.”

He chuckled, boldly inching closer to you, “I give you my word Loki will cause you no harm, ever. Trust me (Y/N).”

“And I can kick-box remember?” you teased, a smile crept up on your lips as you remembered the last time you’d said that to him.

As though he could sense Bucky’s intentions were no hostile, Bear promptly got up from your lap and trotted away to watch the rain not before giving you a concerned glance. You chuckled at his antics and shook your head.

Testing the waters, Bucky reached out and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and caressed your cheek. You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes to exhale loudly.

He leaned over and placed a soft kiss to you cheek. You turned your head to catch his lips in yours and cupped his face. The kiss was innocent yet intense, demanding yet delicate. His scent clouded your senses as he moved closer to you, deepening the kiss.

You broke the kiss first to catch your breath, foreheads touching as you held onto his neck.

“It’s been quite the day. I guess I should leave.” He whispered, placing another kiss to your lips before leaning away.

He was about to get up to leave when you grabbed his elbow,

“With the rain outside? Wouldn’t want you catching a cold. Stay. I��m gonna make us some coffee.”

…

An Epilogue is needed yes?

[write-orflight]

Galileo: Chapter 8

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader, enemies to friends to lovers trope

Rating: M

Words: 2.1K

Warnings:  None, just painfully fluff.

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary:  Y/N  is an astronomer with her head constantly in the stars. But when a   serial killer is threatening NASA’s top scientists, she is left in the   protective custody of a man who’s gravitational pull threatens to pull   her back down to earth. 

A.N: Unedited. Well guys we’re here. I kinda really like how I ended this chapter so IF I do write an Epilogue it’ll be very very small. So for that reason I’m closing the taglist for Galileo. Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. Check out my other fics if you haven’t. And shoot me an inbox saying what you think! much love, Cia.

                                Chapter 8: Pluto 

Life with Spencer wasn’t easier but it sure was better. 

It had been about 9 months now since the two of you started dating and you knew it would be rough. The two of you traveled a lot for work so it was a lot of missed calls, texts, and video chats in the beginning but now you’d say the two of you got a grip on what you both wanted which was each other. Around month 6, Spencer asks you to move in with him. At first you say no, and you keep saying no until around month 8 when Spencer gets shot on the job and you take care of him and just never leave. Not that he was complaining, it was what he’s wanted since Month 2. 

You met the team officially and without impending danger around month 2 as well. Emily and Derek who you already knew through the investigation welcomed you back with open arms and tequila shots at the bar you met them at. JJ took a while to warm up to you which you completely understood from how you left but she warmed up to you when she realized just how much you loved Spencer and how much you regretted pushing him away. 

You and Penelope Garcia got along like a house on fire which everyone expected the two genius women to. Though her sunny, social disposition and your quiet, mellow one didn’t mix on paper pretty soon you guys were trading baked goods and having sleepovers. It was nice, you never had girl friends you could be yourself around but you found that in them. 

Spencer was still Spencer. 

In some ways, he was still the man you met in the observatory of your job, and in some ways he was very different. He was definitely a lot more touchy than you thought he’d be, seemingly unable to be in the same room as you without touching you in some way. Not that that was unwelcome, you loved him all the same. He was still that nerdy guy who whenever he read something or found out something new about your field he’d call you up and immediately to tell you about it. And you would sit and listen intently, never having the heart to tell him it was something you already knew. You liked to hear him talk anyway. 

You still found out a couple of things too. One being that Spencer gets extremely jealous and you found this out around Month 7 of your relationship, your first official fight. He had come to surprise you at work and you were helping the new Doctor hired on the Terra-Mora project get acclimated with the space. You didn’t think anything of the guy other than he was overly friendly but when Spencer came in and saw the fairly attractive man lingering a hand on your back he became livid. 

The car ride home was awkward because you could tell something was up with Spencer though he wasn’t saying anything. “What’s wrong?” You asked. 

“Nothing, bunny.” He says, you can’t help the smile that crosses  your face at the nickname but you knew there was something wrong. 

“Okay so there has to be something up. So out with it.” 

He’s silent for a moment. “How’s working with Dr. Sutton?” 

“Landon?” You ask. He gives you a look when you refer to the man by first name but you choose to ignore it.  “It’s fine. He’s better at math and he’s been nice.” 

“Bet he has.” Spencer mutters under his breath. 

“Ok, what is that?” You ask. 

“Why did you just call him Landon just now?” 

“His name is Landon….?” 

“Every person you work with you refer to as Doctor, you even refer to yourself as Dr. L/N when talking about work.” He points out. “In fact, the only other person you didn’t do that for was Jonathan, who you had feelings for. So why is he ‘Landon’?” 

“He asked me to call him Landon.” You shrug. “You almost sound jealous, Spence.” You can’t help the small chuckle that leaves you when you say it because it was ridiculous to even think about. You loved Spencer. You couldn’t imagine your life without him or even fathom wanting anyone but him but when you saw the look he gave you back when you said it you knew that was exactly the case. 

“You wanna tell me what this is actually about now?” You question. 

“Why didn’t you say I was your boyfriend?” He whispers. 

“What?” You say, confused. You park the car in front of your apartment and turn fully towards Spencer.   

“You didn’t say I was your boyfriend, you called him Landon…” 

“Baby, I didn’t even realize I didn’t do that.” You say, looking into his eyes. “If I did it’s because everyone knows who you are.” You say, cupping the side of his face with one of your hands, he instantly leans into the touch. “My genius boyfriend, who works for the FBI and saved my life. I talk about you constantly because I am happy and proud to be yours. That you still took a chance on me even though I pushed you away and treated you like shit in the beginning. I am never trying to hide you and you have no reason to be jealous because I don’t see anyone else when I’m with you, ok?” You say, Spencer smiles and leans over the center console to kiss you and just like every time Spencer kisses you, you contemplate the likelihood that the earth could stop its rotation because it seemed that the world stood still every time you were together like this.When you pulled away, you leaned your forehead against Spencers for a second, catching your breath. 

“Plus you really have no reason to be jealous.” You add. “Me and Landon spent most of the morning talking about our boyfriends.” 

Spencer looks at you with a wide eyed expression. “You mean, he’s--” 

“Yup.” You cut off. Getting out of the car, Spencer follows you. “You should get jealous more though. It’s kinda hot.” You shrug. Spencer rolls his eyes at you. 

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

     On your one year anniversary, you go to your first date spot which was the Planetarium. You rolled your eyes at the time when Spencer suggested the date saying that you’d both just end up annoying the tour guide. In the end, you ended up with a 16  year old named Anna, who had the same twinkle in her eye when she talked about Space that you had as a child. You ended up shushing Spencer every now and again so you could listen to the young girl tell you about the planets you both knew so much about. At the end of the tour, you told her who you were and that if she wanted an internship at NASA after high school to give you a call. She smiled excitedly at you and hugged you, which you returned before apologizing profusely for hugging you. When you and Spencer were walking to get food after that he asked the question. 

“Do you want kids?” He says. 

“Whoa!” You laugh. “Big ask for a first date.” 

“I’m sorry, you were just so cute with the tour guide that--It’ll come up eventually is all.” 

“I do want kids someday.” You say, smiling at the man. “I never thought it was in the cards for me but I would love kids someday. What about you?” 

“I never thought it was in the cards for me either but I like the idea of having a family.” He says, reaching for your hand. You smile at him again and the topic never comes back up. 

You guys head to the Planetarium again and Anna is still working there, finishing up her senior year. She lets you guys venture around without a guide this time and you and Spencer just sit in the auditorium alone, talking softly at the fake constellations that pass by. 

After, you ask if you guys can skip dinner to go to the observatory just to see if you can get a peak at Gaia tonight as the sky seemed pretty clear. Spencer smiles and obliges you as the two of you head over to your job. The night security guard just nods at the two of you as you walk in, having come accustomed to your late nights and Spencer accompanying you. 

Spencer sits a ways while you set everything up, booting up your computer and positioning your telescope. The two of you settle into a comfortable silence as you often did around each other. You felt slightly bad, it was your anniversary and Spencer was indulging you just like always. He was really way too good for you. You look up at him and smile, which he instantly returns before you turn your attention to the telescope. 

That’s when you see it. 

Gaia. 

Fully visible from earth for the first time in what could have been a millennium. 

You scream out of happiness and Spencer looks up at you raising a brow as you run for your tape recorder.  Gesturing for him to come look. He looks into the telescope as you type into your computer for a second, making sure your telescope was taking the pictures you needed, before speaking into your recorder. 

“This is Dr. Y/N L/N. I am accompanied by Dr. Spencer Reid. The date is April 12th 2014. For the first time ever Planet KXSY-1029 or Alias Gaia is Fully visible from earth!” You turn off the recorder and jump into your boyfriend’s arms. He instantly catches you and spins you around before kissing you fully on your lips. You moan into his mouth slightly as his tongue meets yours but eventually he pulls away but he is still lifting you fully. 

“Do you realize how big tonight is? This is probably the only time anyone in centuries will be able to see her until we actually start human trials and it’s the only time it’ll probably ever be visible from earth and WE were here for it! This is amazing! This night cannot get bette--” 

“Marry me.” Spencer says, looking into your eyes. 

Your eyes widen, as Spencer sets you down on the ground. “What?” You ask. 

“I was going to ask at dinner.” He says pulling a ring out of his jacket pocket and getting down on one knee. You feel tears welling in your eyes. 

“I ruined your whole plan.” You say. 

“No! No, you didn’t. Because seeing you react to seeing Gaia just now reminded me exactly why I wanted to marry you.” Spencer says, grabbing your hands. “Did you know the greek goddess Gaia in creating the earth, gave humans four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. And Zeus, fearing their power, split them in half and that’s where the soulmates come from?” He asks, you shake your head and more tears fall as he rubs small circles with his thumb on the back of your hand. “Y/N, you are the single most caring, passionate, amazing person I know. And if I could go back and change anything about how we met and when we met, I wouldn’t. If I could take away your hurt and tragedy, I would but I feel like everything I’ve ever done, everything that’s ever happened to me, was designed to lead me to you. Meeting you, loving you was the first time in my life I felt truly like myself, like I was half a person until meeting you made me whole again.” He tears up as he looks you in the eyes. “So, Y/N… Will you marry me? Please.” He adds softly. 

You nod fast, tears falling more than they were before as you give him a wet smile. “Yes, Spencer! Of course!” You laugh as Spencer smiles up at you as he slides the ring onto your finger. He gets up and kisses you passionately, hands cradling your face. When you pull apart, he hugs you tightly. You breathe in his scent and look behind him at the images of Gaia on your screens. You thought back to the story Spencer had just told you about soulmates and how before you met Spencer you were just going through the motions of life, feeling incomplete and never knowing what was missing. You seemed to have everything you wanted. Your dream job and life. It wasn’t until being with Spencer you realized what was missing. That he was missing.   

In the end, you were just two halves. 

Made whole by Gaia.  

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[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XLIII: Demetrioi

I

Great. She just ran off and left me to deal with some unexplained mess.

“Wait!” I called out. “Don’t leave me with her!” My voice carried out into an echo and as I stared into the darkened tunnel, hearing her footsteps growing fainter, I knew that it was too late. I was stuck. Stuck with this person on the floor who by all sense of logic, shouldn’t even be alive, let alone speaking.

Oh, but since when has logic played a factor in any of this? Hmm…

Really, though, to think we went through such a battle, which was already a great deal of bullshit and now...this? Hell, first of all, I didn’t even have to come back to help her out, and to think she just runs off? That’s the thanks I get?

“Juniper? Are you still there?” Came the faint, hoarse, but actually kind of cute voice of what was presumed to be Rhea. The OG.

Wait. Does she think I’m Juniper? Do I really sound anything like her?

“Uh. Hi? Wakey wakey?” I replied. Nervous, I waved, before realizing that since her eyes were closed, waving did me no good.

“Who was that just now?” She then asked.

“Uh…” You, but not. But I can’t just say that, can I?

“Ves?”

Oh, come on, do you really think…? No, never mind. I’m going to stop questioning things or so help me…

“Oh. Yeah. That was Ves,” I decided to just go with it. Why not? “It was too painful for her to stick around. You know how she is.”

I dragged my feet in place. When I returned to the diner, there were several things I prepared myself for. I trained and everything. I put myself in a fucking nun outfit. But this...I was not prepared for.

“I see.”

There was a second of silence. I was ready to let out a sigh of relief and declare that she had passed on, that it was just a brief moment of weirdness, but then –

“Juniper?”

“Yeah?” I replied, then gulped.

“Can you come closer?”

This is a trap, isn’t it? I shook my head. Maybe, but I’m ready for a fight.

“OK, but you better not start sprouting tentacles,” I warned her as I walked up to her. Each footstep felt like a cinder block was attached to my ankles.

“Why would I…?” She asked.

Either they’re more dedicated to their role than before or...no, I’ll play along.

“It really is you, isn’t it?” I sighed as I dropped to the floor beside her head.

“Who did you expect? Squid girl?” Her confusion was pronounced, even with the dry and hazy air to her voice. As harsh as she may have been in life, there was a softness to the tone of her voice that I couldn’t deny. It was enough to make me question that this was the same killer I had heard so much about.

“No. Uh. Never mind. It’s just...haa...what a day, am I right?” Yeah. I was at a loss for words. Could anyone blame me? What was one to say to a dying (and already been dead, for, what? Three years) person that they barely knew and only heard about from others?

“I’m sorry about that,” she frowned, and Remora’s voice returned to the front of my mind: “Comfort her!”

Why should I? I spent over a year trying to get over you and now you expect me to try to care for someone when you don’t even care about me in the first place?

“Don’t be,” I did my best to say something, anything, to comfort her. As much as I had my issues with this whole...situation, it still felt wrong to leave her alone. Trying to think of something comforting, I offered, “Is there anything I can do to help you rest?”

“I think...if I can lay my head on your lap…”

My heart skipped a beat.

“Fine,” I sighed, then smiled, trying to make my voice sound as soothing as possible and not like a fizzled out balloon, “I suppose I can do that much.”

I scooted over and reached my hands down, but they felt about ready to fall off with all the heavy vibrations they were doing. Hell, my own pulse felt louder than anything else in the room.

I’ve never even done something like this before and now I’m...I agreed to this…

“Okay…” my voice was just as shaky as well. “Up you go,” I sat crisscross and placed my hands on each side of her face, then lifted her head onto my lap.

“Ha. There we go,” I wiped my forehead. I didn’t break a sweat, but it sure felt like I did. When I looked down at her short, blue hair, which looked fine and silky, almost like I could glide my hand through and each hair would float on by. It was amazing how unchanged she appeared despite the last time she drew her final breath. My eyes scanned down and noticed her thick, coarse dark brown eyebrows, and even that was beautiful with how pronounced it was. Despite some small scrapes and scratches on her face, her hazelnut skin looked just as smooth as it must have always been. Her eyes remained closed, and her breaths were faint, but when I saw her lips…

They had spread to a smile. It startled me at first, caught me off-guard.

“I must be the luckiest girl in the world right now,” she beamed, “getting a lap pillow from Juniper.”

I covered my mouth with the back of my hand.

“It’s nothing. Really,” I replied, my voice muffled by my sleeve.

“But it’s not nothing...it’s not…” her voice lowered at those final two words, like she was fading away.

“Well, I’m glad that I can do something to help,” I conceded. Her smile soon faded as well, back to that usual neutral expression that I would have expected from her.

What? Did I say something wrong?

“I don’t know how much longer...I thought I would have been gone by now…”

Oh. That’s what it is. Yeah. You’re not the only one who thought that.

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

I wonder how Sunny and the others are doing. I wonder what they would think if they saw what I was up to right now. I wonder what Remora would think. She’d probably say something like, “this is the most action you’re ever going to get” and then I’d say, “hey, this was your idea!”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Rhea spoke up again, “I’m...sorry…” she let out a soft cough, and her voice sounded pained, but she went on, “I’m sorry I said that your kindness was a weakness. It’s not. It’s a strength. Even if you may be naive sometimes, I’m...really glad to have met someone...as kind as you. Even to someone like me.”

Was Juniper really nice to her? Oh, dear...I guess that does sound like her.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m a pretty forgiving person,” I replied.

“To be honest, I think I got a bit of a crush on you…”

Why are you telling me this?

“...But I know you and Ves are already good for each other.”

“Glad you think so.”

“Hey Juniper?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever been in love before?”

Seriously?

“Uh. Yeah. With my wife. Who I’m married to.”

“Oh. Right. Well, it was worth a try.”

It really wasn’t, but OK.

“How are you feeling?” I changed the topic for the sake of my sanity, and possibly hers as well.

She scrunched her face and pursed her lips.

What? Was that a bad question? Gosh, I’m sorry.

“Hm. Warm?”

“Really? It’s kinda chilly for me,” I remarked. For real, why didn’t the heaters work down here? Why was there such a draft?

“Oh no. Am I contagious?” She asked with a concerning level of sincerity.

“No, it’s, uh...just the wind.”

“That’s a relief,” she smiled and let out a serene whisper. Jeez, who knew her voice could be so pretty?

There was a pause, a stillness, yet not all was still. There was a sort of sensation at the back of my mind, like I was letting go of something, or something was being released from me and making me lighter. It stung, like a dagger being pulled out, but also felt relieving. But before I be put at ease, I noticed tears start to well up in those closed eyes.

“No, no. What’s wrong? You’re warm, aren’t you? Isn’t that what you want?” I scrambled to try to figure out something to say, but I had nothing.

“I...I messed up, didn’t I?”

“What do you mean?”

“I knew how important this job was, that Ves’ existence threatened the world, but the more I got to know her, the harder it was for me to do it.”

“But you still fought anyway. Why?”

“I don’t know why I do the things I do sometimes,” she answered. It wasn’t good enough for me, however. For whatever reason, I couldn’t accept that.

“But that’s not true in this case, is it?” I urged. Urged for some kind of answer. There had to be one.

“I needed to. It was her or the world. But the more I talked to her, the more I related with her, and it got to the point where I just couldn’t take it anymore. Who I am, the kinds of things I’ve done...”

Whatever relief I might have had disintegrated and in its place was a cyanide-laced pit in my stomach. Yet she had more to say.

“...others would have come after me if I left. There was a legitimate threat posed by her continued existence. Yet I just couldn’t do it. So I tried to provoke her, get her to fight me, make it look like I was still serious...because I should have been...but I just wanted to be free even though I knew it would cost the world.”

“Y...you can rest easy,” my voice shook as I told her, “the world’s still here. I’m still here. Ves may have left, but she’ll return and she’ll be healed by then. She’s smarter than you might think. She’s just sensitive.”

“I’m glad, then,” she turned her head.

“I wish you and her didn’t fight, though. I care about both of you,” I added. It really seemed like something Juniper would have said.

“I know...and I really do wish I could have been friends with you guys. You seem like a great person.”

“I’m not as good as you think I am,” I corrected her.

“Maybe not, but I don’t think you’d want to know me. I’ve done some bad things…”

You don’t say.

“You might be right. But I can’t say for sure unless I knew you better.”

“I’m sorry I threatened to harm you and your wife,” she deflected.

“It’s okay. We’re still here.”

“But at least you won’t have to deal with me anymore. I won’t cause you any more pain…” She mumbled, like those really were going to be her last words. Such bull. Really? Some kind of guilt trip? Did she have any idea? Any at all?

“You fucking IDIOT!” I shouted down and my fists shook. I found myself on the verge of tears. “Do you...do you think this absolves you of the pain you caused? Any of it?” I sniffed, tried to hold back my emotions, even as I knew what a futile effort that was.

“Maybe not, but there’s nothing to be done. It’s too late,” she smiled, nuzzled against my leg.

Screw comfort. Screw everything.

“I...I shouldn’t be emotional over you! I hardly know you!” I shouted and shut my eyes, defiant, but the tears still came. It was hard to tell if she was still breathing or not, and I began to feel numb all over. Numb, yet overfilled with emotion. There was a ringing in ear, yet I heard a pronounced gasp from her.

“If anyone has the right to be upset, it should be you, Juniper,” she spoke, as if to reassure me. Me. No. Not me. Who she thought I was.

I don’t want to be Juniper anymore. I don’t want to be you, or Sister Cecilia, or anyone else. I just want to be me.

“I didn’t even cry at my grandmother’s funeral! I never even knew my father because he died before I was born! So why you? Why?”

I opened my eyes, held my hands in front of my face. They were all wet.

“I’m sorry,” I heaved out the words.

Again, I didn’t know if she was still breathing or not or if she had passed on. I looked over and saw a matchstick on the floor next to where I sat.

Please go. So that I can go back to being me. Please.

However, my pleas went unanswered. She turned her head, back to facing forward.

“Juniper, can I make a selfish request?” She asked.

“Yes,” I answered, as loathe as I was to do so.

“Can I lay my hand on your cheek?”

I tried to force a smile.

“Yes, but nothing more, OK?” I softened my voice.

Her free arm raised, the one that wasn’t held over her stomach (thank goodness. I didn’t want blood on my face) and I closed my eyes, not ready for whatever sensation might have come. When I felt that palm, those fingers, my breathing grew heavier. Her hand was far warmer than it had any right to be. She stroked my cheek and I shivered about, then, she set her hand back down, lowered her arm back to her side.

That also felt better than it had any right to. Not to mention the fact that it wasn’t meant for me in the first place. God, all of this is so wrong.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.”

“Juniper, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I wasn’t meant to wake up, was I?”

So she figured it out. Well, she may as well know.

“No. You weren’t,” I answered, and even with a smile and tinge of softness, it still felt rough to say.

“I thought so. Can I ask you something else?”

Let me guess: “Why am I not dead?”

“You’re not really Juniper, are you?”

I was startled and my heart began to thump in place.

“I...well...you see…”

She opened her eyes wide and stared into mine, then scowled.

“I shrunk in the wash?” I scrambled for an explanation. However, it didn’t even seem to register so much as a chuckle from her (everyone’s a critic) and I watched as she lifted her head up, then struggled to lift herself up.

“Ooh, ow, ow, ow,” she winced and hissed as she sat up.

“You’re in pain!” I gasped. She just turned and glared at me.

“And you’re not Juniper,” her disappointment was chalked into every syllable.

She stood up, much to my protests, and began to look around.

“What is this place...a brewery…?” She muttered.

“You should lay back down!” I urged her, despite knowing she wouldn’t listen to me, “do you really want your final moments to be painful?”

“How I spend my final moments is between me, myself, and I,” she dismissed me, not even turning to look my way.

“Come on! I was told to comfort you!”

“And who told you to do that? Huh?”

Oh crap. I can’t actually say.

“You wouldn’t believe me…” I lowered my head.

“I already don’t believe you. You used me, made me think you were Juniper. Who are you, really?” That time, she turned to me, still with a disgusted look on her face.

“I’m Juniper’s cousin!” I explained.

“Oh, sure. And I’m the Queen of France,” she scoffed, then walked away toward the back of the room, toward where the ladder against the wall was. That same ladder that led up to the diner.

“Well, are you?” I leaned in and asked.

“I could be...if I wanted to. That was sarcasm, by the way,” she replied, still walking.

“You don’t say,” I shot back, deadpan.

“Yes. I do say. I just said so. Just now, in fact.”

“That was sarcasm too, you dummy!”

“Don’t be mean to me. I just woke up.”

I can’t believe this. How is this supposedly merciless killer so ridiculous?

“Now let’s see...what is this place? Why am I here? What am I doing awake? Is this the afterlife? Why is there some green troll doll pretending to be Juniper?” She muttered to herself as she continued to look around.

Hey I resent that last remark.

“For your information, it wasn’t my idea to pretend to be Juniper,” I argued.

“I don’t care. I don’t even know who you are. Why would you pretend to be someone else at all?”

What is with you two and the whole ‘I don’t care’ thing?

“I don’t know,” I admitted, “it just sorta happened.”

“Well stop.”

She limped on over toward the ladder, now just a couple more paces away.

“Rhea...you’re bleeding,” I pointed out. I hoped that such awareness would bring her to her senses, get her away from there.

“You know how it is with spaghetti…” She grunted.

...What?

Now, against the wall, with one hand on one of the wooden planks of the ladder, I knew any more convincing would be useless.

“Tell me,” she turned to me, “if I go up here, will I be in heaven?”

I smiled and shook my head.

“More like hell,” I joked, “but I’ve come to think of it as home.”

She just shrugged.

“I’ll take it.”

Before she readied her arms up to climb, I spoke up once again:

“Rhea. It was nice to meet you,” I wiped away a loose tear. Let’s hope that was the last one.

“I’d say the same, but I don’t actually know you,” she just replied.

“Demetria,” I told her.

“Yeah,” she squinted, “I’m not gonna remember that.”

Then I watched as she climbed up. Through the pain, through the blood that dripped down, somehow she managed. All the while, I just sat and felt powerless to stop her.

“I hope this time you have an undisturbed rest,” I remarked. That time, she didn’t answer. I didn’t mind. She lifted the hatch, shook a bit, and for a moment, I thought she would fall off, but she clung onto the floor of the diner, then shimmied her way up. “Goodbye, Rhea.”

II

There was a moment which seemed to go on for an eternity where I just continued to sit there in disbelief. All of that, that whole conversation, her getting up, being alive, even for a short while at all...that really happened? Then, the realization dawned on me: I had let her get away. What would the residents of the diner think? They were gonna freak out, weren’t they? Ugh.

I got up and clasped the sides of my head with both hands.

“What am I supposed to do now?! ‘Hey guys, no biggie, but we got a case of the walking dead!’” I paced about in frustration.

I shook my head. Worrying myself over such things was pointless. She wasn’t going to last, and besides, as much as that was a small distraction, that’s all it was: a distraction. I still had to head back with the group. We had a whole final boss to deal with. Our journey was far from over.

“OK,” I let out a deep breath, “time to get a move on.”

Through the entrance to the tunnel, I ran, while keeping my motions and pace steady. Not far in, I saw her: Remora. The one that I knew. She sat up against one of the stony walls of the tunnel, her head hung low and leaned against her own shoulder.

I’ve still got lots of mixed feelings, but…

I snapped my fingers in rapid succession.

Remora jolted up, then looked around, wide-eyed.

“S-Sorry! I must have passed out. That fight exhausted me,” she explained in a stammer.

“Can’t say I blame you, but we gotta get to the others.”

She nodded, then stood up.

“Is she gone? Did she pass on?” She asked, an odd sense of nervousness in her voice.

“Yeah. She uh, went upstairs, so to speak.”

“What?!”

“Not literally...you know, like her spirit ascended,” I tried to explain.

Even though, yes. Literally.

“Oh. Phew. Thank goodness. I was worried for a second there.”

“What for?” I paused, surprised.

“Because if she were to live, then what would happen to me?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, dry and without confidence.

“I’m scared,” she admitted and looked down to her side. After one glance at me, “it’s said that if two versions of the same person cannot exist in the same timeline. It’s rare, so rare that such a rule would seem unnecessary, but it’s said that if someone entered another timeline when a version of them already exists, then one of the versions would die to keep it at just one.”

I wonder if that what his plan, then. It never occurred to me that he would have such a power, but if that’s true, then it would be an easy way to get rid of Remora. Of course he would use some dirty trick like that. The fog, everything else, it’s all been one cowardly trick after another.

“Like I said, I don’t know,” I repeated. I shuffled my feet and tried to search for some form of assurance, and all I could come up with was my mission at hand. “I can’t say what the future holds for any of us, but I swear I’ll do all in my power to put a stop to this. Now, can you run?”

She nodded, her face relaxed into the neutral, stoic form which I knew from her.

“Good. Let’s meet back up with the others.”

We ran at a pace steady enough that she was able to turn to me and make conversation. Something I really didn’t want to do, especially what with how things ended up when I was last at the diner, before all of this shit with the fog went down.

“So, what’s the plan now, Sister Cecilia?” She teased.

“Hey!” I snapped. “At least nobody figured out it was me, Captain Acab!”

“You could tell it was me?” She pointed to herself all while keeping pace with me.

“Duh. I can spot your shivering from a mile away.”

“Y-you can?” She stammered and started to slow down.

“Maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but even if you hadn’t been shivering up a storm, your voice gives you away. That’s why I had the whole ‘vow of silence’ thing going on,” I explained. “As for the plan, I’m pretty sure I know what, or rather who, is behind all of this. I’ve dealt with him before.”

“Him?! You mean a man was inside her? Disgusting.”

I skidded to a stop and spat out.

“Why would you phrase it that way?! Do you have any idea how that sounds?! That’s so...so insensitive!”

I stifled back laughter and snickered, but it didn’t help; soon it forced its way out all on its own.

“Ah ha ha! But that’s just like you to say something like that,” I remarked, still unable to help myself but laugh.

“I don’t know what I said that was funny, but I’ll take that as a win,” she replied. Yeah. I guess she would be clueless to something like that, and maybe I was just reading too much into things.

“It’s...never mind.”

“But yes, I fought someone who might be the same guy,” she disclosed, “he said he was inhabiting a spare corpse. Apparently that guy we fought in the cave, Buddy Fairweather, if that even was his original name, was also the same guy. To think he would go as far as using the body of my other self…”

“Yes,” I agreed, “to use one of your words, it’s disgusting.”

As if there weren’t other things beside that which could be called ‘disgusting’. Like how ‘he’, or whoever it was in question, through some mystic power or whatever nonsense, made this fog and harmed, even took innocent lives. For what? To instill a sense of fear? Or to hide out and hope the fog would do all the work for him?

“That’s why we’ve got to regroup with the others and put a stop to this,” I declared, then took off once more.

She kept pace with me the whole time, something which I found annoying yet expected. I just tried to keep my focus forward, and not on her. It was bad enough that she had returned at all. Worse that if I had just stayed with the others, I could have delayed having to see her again.

“It’s good to see you,” she spoke up again.

“Wish I could say the same,” I replied, then realized how harsh that sounded, I turned to her, “for the record, I don’t dislike you...it’s just hard, considering…”

I didn’t want to think about it. Not when there were other things to worry about. Other things to get mad about.

“I think I get it. I’m glad to hear you don’t dislike me.”

For whatever reason, my face turned red.

“Yeah, well anyway, that’s not really important right now.”

It was a little further in when I saw a faint, orange glow in the distance. As we approached, the glow turned brighter, more pronounced, and the stone walls illuminated around us. Then, I saw them: Sunny, Ray, and Tigershark, all sat against the wall, with Sunny holding up the torch. Remora and I slowed down to a walk upon seeing them, and Tigershark was the first to look up. She beamed, then got up and ran over to Remora and hugged her.

“You’re back!” She cheered and clamped onto Remora’s right leg tight.

“Hey, little one,” Remora knelt down and hugged Tigershark right back with that same weary, raspy voice I heard from Rhea...something which I would have rather forgotten.

I looked around and saw piles of stone rubble just past Sunny. It must have been what was once those animated stone creatures. Sunny and Ray were bruised and scraped up, but they didn’t look too bad. Just exhausted. At least, I hoped it wasn’t too bad.

“It was scary! There was someone who looked like you, but then it turned out to be a monster!” Tigershark sobbed into Remora’s pant leg.

“I know. She’s gone now,” Remora tried to comfort Tigershark. Or maybe just comfort herself. Either way, it rubbed me the wrong way. Like an obfuscation.

“That thing,” I cut in and shook my head as I did so, “wasn’t Rhea. The reason why it looked like Remora was because Rhea was her twin sister, but she died a few years ago. That thing was just a disgrace to her image. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I didn’t know you had a twin sister!” Tigershark broke away from the hug and gasped, astonished.

“Yeah...about that…” Remora looked away, shot me a quick glare, then continued, “I don’t really like talking about my twin sister. We were never very close and for the longest time I’ve had mixed feelings about her, almost like we came from different worlds.”

How subtle.

“If she’s your sister...does that mean she’s mine too?” Tigershark pointed to herself.

“Look at you, collecting sisters left and right,” Sunny remarked.

“That’s right!” Tigershark grinned.

They continued their conversation, and I’m sure it was great for them all to reunite. Really, I should’ve been happier, but all I could do was look ahead. Somewhere, further ahead, was the one behind everything. No doubt, we’d be in for a fight, and with the battles we’ve already had to endure, our odds weren’t great.

But it has to be done all the same.

“What do you think, Ray?” I asked while continuing to look ahead.

“Hmm...it seems like Tigershark’s family grows bigger each day,” he mused.

“No, not that. What do you think about settling matters?”

“I’d love to. Now, whether or not I have any fight left in me...that’s another story.”

“And I’m sure you can tell that story another day. For now, I’m sure we can settle for having a nice little chat with our guest.”

“Ah, that,” he picked himself up, “may as well. We’re probably closer to our enemy by now than we are to the diner. Worst case scenario, even if we all die, at least we’ll have done so with the intention of setting things right.”

“Plus we’ll have done so as a family,” Sunny added.

“Yeah. No thanks. I’m determined to see us all live, whether we like it or not.”

When we all gathered close together, Sunny turned to Remora.

“You’re pretty badly injured!”

“Wounds heal,” Remora dismissed.

“Here, I’ve got some antiseptic ointment. Lemme apply it for you.”

“Um...n-no thanks,” Remora backed away, “you can just hand those to me. I’m still not comfortable being touched.”

Though I suppose hugging Tigershark is an exception.

“That said, I’m willing to let you touch me, Demetria,” Remora added, and upon hearing my name, I turned stiff and jumped in place. I had done all in my power not to be near her, in fact, I was at the very right end while she, Sunny, and Tigershark were on the left. But it was all for naught, as she had addressed me all the same.

“I’m not the one with the ointment here,” I looked away and grumbled.

We walked on, as none of us felt the need to run any longer. Besides, although I still had plenty of energy to do so, I imagined the others might not have. It was up in the air about a certain ‘R’ word how much energy she had left, but either way, after all the biding of time he’s forced us into, it was only fair that he too wait for us. Funny, though; I was impatient to be done with everything and there I was, content to walk with the rest of them. But it could have been because I had an aching, foreboding feeling, that we weren’t far.

Yes, each step forward carried that feeling. Part of me wondered if anyone else felt it, or if it was a link with the entity that only I shared. Silly that. Why would I be the one to share a link with them at all when I was so ordinary, so mortal?

Of course, I refuse to acknowledge this entity as anything other than a man.

Just a little further ahead, we came to a halt: before us was a fork in the tunnel: two paths. One which continued forward in a straight line, and the other a slight diversion off to the right side.

“What the – this wasn’t here before,” Ray gasped.

“OK, but be real, hun, how often do you come down here?” Sunny teased and nudged him.

I shook my head.

“It doesn’t matter. Our enemy can affect reality in slight ways like this. This should be par for the course by now.”

I cocked my head to the side, noticed a faint, purple glow which seemed to sparkle and glimmer. How obvious, I thought, then turned and walked in that direction.

“Come on,” I motioned for the others.

It felt a little strange to lead the way. I’ve never considered myself to be a leader for anything. If anyone ever had that role, it was one of the other adults: Sunny, Ray, Remora. Hell, I often found myself feeling inferior to them and how experienced they each were in comparison to the young and naive person I was. However much I’ve grown, if at all, I still didn’t consider myself above them, only more aware of the situation at hand.

Up ahead, the glow grew more pronounced. It was hard to say brighter, but others soon took notice of it, and then another shape took hold: a clearing, or rather, an end to our jouney.

“Look!” Tigershark pointed.

“It’s just like that camping trip,” Sunny reminisced. It wasn’t hard to imagine the similarities to our last battle with such a foe, within that cave where Remora was the one with the plan and our battle with “Buddy Fairweather” took place.

“I doubt it’s a coincidence,” I commented, offhand. My footsteps grew heavier the closer we all got. An equal measure of nervousness and eagerness. All that long ago, I failed to protect two siblings, twins who put their trust in me, just to be taken before my eyes. Now the question remained whether or not I could protect these people I’ve come to hold dear over time, or if even after everything, I still remained powerless?

No matter what happens, I will show him that I too am a force to be reckoned with. He is the reason I have all this anger stored up, and he will receive every ounce of it.

“Are you ready?” I turned to them and asked.

“No. But what other choice do we have?” Ray met my question with one of his own.

“You have choices. You can return to the diner, where you may be safer. I’ll stay to face this horror alone.”

“And let you risk your life? If things take a turn for the worst, I think it’s much better to die in the company of others than alone.”

Taken aback, my eyes widened and I had to make a conscious effort to narrow them.

“You underestimate –” I tried to say, but Remora interrupted me.

“You’re being stupid again,” she scolded, “do you really think you can say something like that after you came back to help me when I fought the one pretending to be my other self? Do you really think that the others wouldn’t do the same for you if you were to take on something like that alone?”

I scowled at first, but then relaxed my face and sighed.

“I guess...this is just as much your fight as it is mine…” I relented, but looked down as I did so.

“Not quite, kiddo,” Sunny chimed in, “it’s all of ours. We’ve all been affected by this in some way or another.”

“Very well,” I nodded, then declared, “I don’t think you need me to tell you guys this, but be prepared for anything.”

III

Our surrounding was filled with that same, dim purple glow, and as we stepped through, one detail became apparent: way off in the back of the large, circular room was a series of vines, tangled against themselves. I looked up to find darkness where I would have expected a ceiling. Although I knew it not to be the case, it gave off the impression that we were in a different realm altogether, one that was limitless. Maybe such an impression was intentional.

In the center of the sea of thorny vines, there was some sort of casing, like an egg or chrysalis, but made out of the vines that surrounded it. As if sensing our presence, the casing of vines opened up, and a familiar robed figure emerged with his hood up and that same faceless stone mask, held up by one hand. He stood, gaunt, and hunched, yet held an air of authority, almost as if bowing to us.

“At last you have arrived,” he spoke in a strange calm and polite manner. Despite the distance between us, a wide gap, his voice echoed our way. There was no sense of joviality, no humor, but instead, despite his calm demeanor, malice floated on the tip of each word.

“Are you done hiding behind the remains of others?” I skipped right past the greetings and cut through the chase.

“Ah. That,” he stood up, then removed the mask from his face and dropped it to the floor. What I expected was to see a mangled pile of worms all writhing around in place of where a face should have been. Instead, I was met with a face that was more or less normal: light brown, almost copper looking hair flowed down as his hood lowered. His skin, pale and thin to the point that the definitions of his cheek bones could be shown along his face, and if I had to wager, highlighted the rest of his skull as well. “That, unfortunately, has no easy answer.”

His eyes remained closed, and it was when he opened his mouth that I noticed how his mouth was unusually wide, to the point where I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was secretly some kind of hand puppet.

“You possess the bodies of the dead, do you not?” Remora shouted, demanding an answer. Upon hearing her speak, he opened his eyes just a crack and I noticed a red glow seep through. He clenched, then opened his fist several times before answering.

“Yes.”

“So you just use them as toys, props, tools to be used and nothing more?”

“I give them a purpose.”

“And how many of them consent to that purpose? What do you know of the dead?”

“I know all about the dead. After all, I myself am dead. You killed me.”

Thank you. That was all the confirmation I needed. Not that I ever had any doubts, I felt a little triumphant upon hearing him utter such words.

“What did you call yourself way back when? Cronus the Harvester? Or should I call you ‘Tarrare’?”

“You mean the baby eater?” Ray was dumbfounded by such a name.

“I never was a fan of that codename, but call me as you wish. I take it you remember me, then?” Cronus answered. Maybe that was the name I was most accustomed to, and as such, that was all I would ever think of them. He didn’t even warrant being called anything other than enemy, so he should be grateful I was referring to him at all.

“After what I went through, how could I forget?” I asked right back, rather rhetorical, at that. How could anyone have forgotten such an ordeal? The very notion that I could just erase such a thing was nothing less than insulting.

“So then you must know the purpose behind my actions?”

“I can wager a guess. Or at least what you use to justify yourself,” I had no doubt that in his own mind, his actions were sound, but all I heard was distorted white noise.

“And knowing this, will you still defend her?”

I shook my head.

“No. I’ll defend all of us.”

My response was met with a slight, stifled laughter. Shame, too. I was dead serious.

“Even after all this time?”

“I think I’ve told you before,” Remora interjected, “if it’s simple revenge that you want, you should have just gone after me. So why all those researchers? All those people that had nothing to do with me? Why?”

“Because I knew you were in the area. It didn’t matter what other lives were taken in the process, so long as there was the chance that you were swept up along with them.”

“So that includes Tigershark’s parents?” I demanded, my voice shook as I did so.

“What?!” Tigershark looked up at me.

“I really wish you hadn’t said that,” Remora turned to me as well.

“She deserves to know,” my gaze was fixed on Cronus, all the while.

“What are you talking about, Demetria?” Panic filled Tigershark’s voice.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not a very comforting person. That blizzard, the one that took your parents, almost took you, was no natural blizzard,” I explained, then pointed at Cronus, “WAS IT?”

“It was similar enough to hold the same effect. So in the end, what was the difference?” He smirked and there wasn’t a hint of remorse in his voice.

“Their deaths would have been tragic either way, but if it was nature, then it could have been chalked up to an unfortunate accident. That you conjured something like that up in your pursuit of someone else is more than a tragedy: it’s blatant cruelty, plain and simple.”

“Had I known that one would be rescued by the one you call ‘Remora’, I would have put in more effort to ensure such a thing didn’t happen.”

I growled. To think he would have slaughtered Tigershark, and for what? For the proposed crime of associating with Remora?

“I’m sure there were many families torn apart by his actions,” Remora stated.

My thoughts shifted to the Mel twins. Indeed.

“What does it matter to you? They were no one you knew.”

“That doesn’t matter! It’s because they had nothing to do with me that it matters. They mattered to somebody, even if they would never have mattered to me!”

Cronus grimaced, then his face shifted to a scowl. His long mouth seemed like it dragged the rest of his face down with it.

“You talk as if your past actions were any different. Did you ever stop to think about what kind of people you killed, or did you just kill them?”

“Even then, I only took out my targets, no one else.”

“You killed people?” Tigershark asked Remora.

“Yes,” Remora answered.

“Bad people?” Tigershark gulped.

“I think I was the bad guy, actually.”

Cronus laughed a hearty and spiteful laugh.

“Wonderful. Yes, little girl. You now get to learn that your so-called savior was a monster all along.”

“It takes one to know one, doesn’t it?” I snarled at him.

He leered my way, then answered:

“Yes. If not for her monstrous actions, I wouldn’t be the monster I am now,” then his gaze shifted toward Remora, “tell me, were your coworkers your assigned target? The very people who worked for the same company as you?”

Remora twitched, the realization must have dawned on her.

“No. I did it because I wanted to leave and I knew others would be sent after me if I did so. I was trying to keep myself from being pursued.”

“I suppose I can’t blame you for that. After all, if even just one of your colleagues happened to survive and catch wind of what happened, then surely they would come after you. So you can’t blame me, then, when I do just that.”

“I see. So that’s how it is.”

“Yes. I suppose now is a good of a time as any to clear some things up, yes? No more leaving you in the dark. Even if that’s what you did to me. To all of us,” he lifted up one hand and little worm-like appendages writhed from the tips of his fingers. “You see, one moment I was standing in a crowd with others. Some of which I got along with. Then, a flash and we were all torn apart in the resulting blast. I struggled to open my eyes, and as I watched my colleagues, in pieces, I wept. My body, a mangled mess, burns all around me, and as I clung to dear life, begged to be let live, by some miracle, I watched the landscape turn to darkness.”

“You weren’t wrong to think these actions were the cause of a cosmic entity. I’ve heard the stories of such beings, the rumors. To me, such things as celestial beings, angels, never meant anything to me. But in that moment, when I was met with darkness, the last vestige of life slipping from me, I wanted to believe. So I called out, ‘if there’s anything out there, please, let me live!’ And I found myself entangled in a swirling mass of limbs while I stared into my savior: an unending sea of branches, wires, legs, and tentacles, all connected together and piled onto each other.

“Despite having no mouth, it spoke to me and nursed me to life by making itself a part of me. However, the changes were a little too late as I was weakened to the point where my body could no longer sustain itself but I soon found that I could grant myself new life through the corpses of others, along with their memories from when they were alive. It was like their lives had become a part of mine, and the more I occupied, the more energy I gained. Soon I was able to create my own projections and conjure beasts of my own. And along with all that...came a vast amount of knowledge, including of the one who killed me.”

“So the thing at the basement of the mansion, was that the so-called entity?” I asked.

“Yes and no. It was me. Or more, a projection of what I remembered it looking like and a little puppet in which I could speak through.”

“Well, that little puppet stole innocent lives.”

“No one is innocent. That’s the first thing you need to learn about life,” he waved a skeletal finger my way.

“Then did any of those other people lured in to that mansion deserve it? Did the Mel twins deserve it?”

“What does it matter? Life and death mean little to people like your Remora and I.”

‘My’? What?

“If that’s true, then you wouldn’t have begged for your own life, and you wouldn’t have tried to take hers. When it comes down to it, you’d probably use any excuse just to murder someone.”

“And you think Remora is any different? She doesn’t care about anyone else’s life but her own.”

“You’re wrong!” Remora argued. “I may have been that way before, hell, I may not have even cared about my own, but now I have friends. I have people who are important to me.”

“You don’t deserve friends!” He shouted, then, lowered his voice back, “I had friends. You took them from me.”

Maybe he’s right, from a moral perspective. From all the things she’s done, people she’s used, could it really be said that she deserved what she got? But then…I myself don’t really care about things like that. If anything, I’m just as bad as her. ‘Morals’? The only moral I have is protecting those who are important to me. Everything else is secondary.

“Maybe you’re right,” I replied. He froze, then a satisfied smile took over. I continued, “but to me, it’s not a matter of deserve or not. That she has friends is not for you to decide – if people choose to be friends with her, it’s their choice, not yours.”

“How bold. That you would align yourselves with her even after all you know only solidifies that you’re the enemy.”

I snorted. That was too much.

“Ah ha ha! No shit! We’ve been enemies for a long fucking time,” real quick, I turned to Tigershark, “sorry about the language.”

She still looked on the verge of tears, but she looked up.

“It’s okay. I think there are worse things to say,” she reassured me.

“So what happened to this entity, then?” Sunny shot her hand up and asked.

What? You think this is a classroom?

“We are connected, yes,” Cronus answered, “but I know not of its whereabouts. The last thing I heard was that they took on a human form. Which, I’ll give you all a freebie: since it has become human, it can be killed. If you can kill it, then the source of my power would go away as well, thus rending me mortal. But could you do it, knowing that in all likelihood, it wouldn’t have any memories of their previous self, and could be some ordinary man in Florida with a family of his own?”

Sunny wasn’t expecting such an answer. I was less surprised, even though I had no idea, myself.

“As for me, I have transcended humanity. I can create beasts, affect reality, occupy the corpses of others, and make people lose their sense of self. No matter which body I take, I can just regenerate and even if you destroy that body, then I just occupy a new one.”

Ray was the next one to shoot his hand up.

“Yes, excuse me, Mr. Death God? I have a question,” Ray spoke up.

“What is it?” Cronus was just taking questions now like it was nothing. OK.

“Was the whole thing with the fog, the impostor Rhea, and the stone constructs meant to wear us all down?”

“Yes. I had no doubts that you all would survive your whole ordeal on the way here. But by breaking both your bodies and spirits, then it would be all too easy to end your lives here and now.”

“Ah, the classic attrition strategy.”

“Now, your lives all end here!” He roared as several of the vines behind him shot forth our way. Their piercing thorns and the sharp, blade-like tips could have been sharp enough to impale us where we stood, if not bleed out.

Looks like it’s time for me to make my move as well.

I stood in front of everyone else and brought out the miniature bounded field. All of the vines rushed in where I stood, met the barrier, and disintegrated then and there. Everyone was unharmed.

“I kinda figured you were doing something like that as well,” I stated while closing up the miniature bounded field and returning the device to my pocket, “that’s why I chose not to involve myself too much in the previous battles.”

He laughed, smug as ever.

“Be that as it may, there was no need to weaken you. What could you possibly do? You’re just one ordinary human.”

“Maybe so,” a sinister grin spread across my face and I untied the black robe that was around my waist and put it back on, “but if anything, that just makes you more pathetic.”

“Again, you’re all talk.”

“What do you think we’ve been doing all this time? Talking. All because you know you yourself are too weak to kill an ordinary, pathetic human such as myself? See, the way I see it, you’re no death god. You’re just a human with a power trip. You claim you can kill anyone, do what you please, make others lose their sense of self, but you couldn’t even kill me! And as a matter of fact, I think I know myself now more than ever.”

“A minor oversight which I will fix now,” he growled.

“Really? You promise this time? ‘Cronus the Harvester’? Give me a break. You can do some fancy tricks, but at the end of the day, you’re still mortal and I will be the one to prove that to you.”

I brought out my switchblade, its black casing with the gold blade on the inside. I flipped down the switch on the side of the casing one notch, then flicked the switchblade open. The blade sprung up, and along with it unfolded a metallic rod which clicked into place. At the very tip of the rod was the blade, which then expanded and curled down. What was once the casing for the switchblade became the hilt and I then held in my hand a full-formed sickle.

It was much heavier in its current form than when it was as a switchblade, but the damn thing was heavy from the start. It had to be.

“This is why I called it Death Knight,” I turned to Tigershark. At first she still looked despondent and teary-eyed, but she looked up, then her face lit up and she grinned. I took it as a sign of approval. Ray, meanwhile, scratched his chin.

“Hmm...seems a little too edgy, don’t you think?” He pondered.

Jeez, nothing pleases you people, huh?

Cronus shot forth many vines from his hand and I charged in, took a swipe and cut them down. From the side, many more vines from the wall flew in my direction. I swerved and did a sweeping slash, cutting those all down as well.

“Your attacks are too slow and the shape of your weapon leaves too many openings for you,” Cronus observed.

“But it gets the job done for large swarms such as that,” I replied, then flipped the switch another notch and the blade’s casing turned to the side as the metal rod pushed through to the other side while black perimeter of the rod popped out to reveal a blade on its inside as well, while the outer shell, what was once the perimeter of the rod, teemed with static.

The original blade shrunk down and attached itself near the top of the newly formed sword.

“So you copied my sickle and took it one step further,” he noted, then from the vines that sprouted from his palm, he formed a sickle of his own, “but you forgot that I hold the original and while you use pieces of the entity to fuel your weapon, I am the real deal.”

He leaped into the air and swung his sickle down my way, but I took a step back as he hit the ground and his blade missed. In turn, I sidestepped and swung forth with my own blade, the electrical currents running through as I sliced him in half, but before I got through all the way, he grabbed my blade.

“That same trick won’t work twice,” he grunted, and vines moved around his body, spread out, and then the sparks dissipated, “what? Did you think I would be paralyzed too?”

I shook my head and smiled, “actually, I don’t really care about that,” and pushed the blade through harder until it tore through his grip and sliced his hand off as well as reaching the other end of him. He split in two, but before his top half hit the ground, appendages from the bottom half swung around and held tight to the top half.

Let’s not make this a smooth regeneration, I thought as I lunged forth and swung my blade downward until he was in fourths.

Even then, he was quick to connect.

“You just don’t get it: I can regenerate. Furthermore, even if you manage to kill the body, I will just find another.”

“Good. That just means I can kill you over. And over. And over again,” I let my excitement show, but more so, it was the anger that I’ve been holding back. “So answer me this: how many times do we have to teach you this lesson, old man?!”

He opened his mouth wide and roared and many appendages launched out from his mouth, each with mouths of their own. As he charged with his sickle, so too did those mouths, all looking to tear a chunk out of me. I ducked as he went for a horizontal swing, and at the same time, the appendages wriggled down and opened wide for a bite, but I sprung up to the side, then cut them all down and leaped up to to thrust my blade down into his mouth and a jolt of electricity exploded inside as I pulled my blade back out, then jumped back.

He screamed and wailed in agony, but then clamped his mouth shut and swallowed, seeming fine once more. He smiled, then licked his lips, to which I noticed just how long of a tongue he had.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie!” Sunny cheered for me and I noticed in my peripheral Tigershark jumping up in the air as well. Really, that’s all I need.

He ran my way, once again with sickle in hand, and tried for a diagonal slash, but I took my blade and thrust upward, chipping off the blade of his sickle and splitting it in half. He leaned over and reached his head down with his large mouth with many rows of sharp, jagged teeth, and his large tongue splitting into many, smaller, thinner tongues. His breath was so close, but before he could clamp down on my head, I slid to the floor in between his legs and sliced upward, right through his crotch.

He let out a yelp of pain and blood dripped down from between his legs, and before he could turn, I thrust my blade into his chest. Just as soon as I did so, I released the blade and let the electrical currents speak for themselves as the red, metallic liquid which poured from his chest mixed with the sparks from my blade and it caused an explosion through his whole body which sent me back as well.

Light burn marks filled my cheeks, but that was nothing compared to the agony he went through.

“Is it over?” Ray asked.

I shook my head. Things were never that easy. Not that quick.

What first was a sharp, shrill cry of pain soon turned into a booming, earth-shattering roar and through the smoke emerged two large claws, each of which must have been of greater size than Cronus’ own body, or whoever that body first belonged to. His face appeared next from out of the smoke, elongated and filled with writhing worms. What once held eyes was sunken in. It was like watching a fleshy skull contort itself to that of some other creature.

“You think you only have to fight me?” He bellowed and from his open mouth emitted a heavy gust of wind with little frost particles. The air around us turned thick and gray at the same time.

He’s trying to conjure up both that pseudo-blizzard and pseudo-fog at the same time. He’s really ready to kill all of us, any means necessary. Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.

I ran back to the others, then faced Cronus, or whatever form he took now, and transformed my blade back into a sickle, then with both hands, made large sweeping motions.

“Ow, ow,” the others winced as little shards cut into them. I continued to sweep along, however, and soon the gusts of air created cleared away the fog and turned the air still once more.

Short breaths forced out of me as the motions took more strength than I expected they would. Cronus shifted back into his more human-like appearance, but whatever calm demeanor he held prior had washed away and in its place a hateful scowl was plastered on.

“You should give up now. You all will be much more useful if you join me, together in death,” he growled.

“Y’know, it could be my Gothic sensibilities talking,” Ray pulled out a cigarette from his jacket pocket along with his lighter, to which he flicked a flame, then took a puff from his cigarette, “but that sounds rather gay. I’m flattered, really, and if you were a different person who didn’t cause so many problems for me, I might have taken you up on your offer. As it stands, I want nothing to do with you.”

“Ray! Since when did you smoke?!” Sunny sounded appalled.

“I’m going to be blunt with you, Sunny,” Ray took another puff, “it’s weed.”

“Wait, really? You got one in there for me?”

Ray sighed, “this is why I was keeping my stash a secret from you,” then pulled out a joint for Sunny.

“Light me up. This shit’s been stressful for me too!”

Seriously, you’re going to get yourselves high at a time like this? Though given what we’ve all been through, I guess I can’t blame them.

“Do you really think you can protect them and fight me at the same time?!” Cronus’ booming voice shouted in my direction.

“I have to try,” I replied and clenched my fists.

“You know you will fail. Need I remind you what happened with the Mel twins? You know, I hold their memories. They never had any confidence in you.”

All you did was serve as a humiliating end to their lives, he spoke to me through my thoughts.

I’m not surprised, I retorted within my thoughts, if you think that will deter me, you’re mistaken. That they didn’t make it is the whole reason why I must take you down.

I charged at him and transformed my sickle back into its blade form. He, meanwhile, shot forth the multitude of vines once again, and I sliced through them but a few flew past from overhead.

Damn it! It’s too high up!

In a panic, I tossed my blade into the air to cut down the remaining vines. While my focus was on his summoned vines, he rushed in and swiped at me with the back of his thorny palm. Although I reacted in time to avoid any further hits, I was caught off guard by the swipe and they pricked little cuts into my cheek.

I winced, then kept my focus on my opponent, who had conjured up his sickle once more. He tried to swipe with it, much like he did his palms, but that time, I stepped far enough back, then took a leap forward and slashed down, but his sickle blocked my blade. We were in a lock, weapon against weapon, and he tried shifting his weight against his sickle, but when I still pushed harder, he unleashed several vines from his back and I let go of my blade, kicked against his sickle, knocking him back, just as the vines came crashing down my way, but it was too late; the space between us was vast enough that they all missed. I slashed them away, then charged in once more.

I sliced one of his arms clean off. Next I went and tore his sickle. He looked at a disadvantage, but as soon as his arm regrew, and right when I went for his head, limbs from his back grew, not just vines, but long and thick spider-like legs with needles at the tip. They pushed my blade aside, and then he grabbed me by the throat and lifted me up.

“I’m sorry. Did you think this was going to be easy?” He mocked.

I struggled to breathe, struggled to be let loose from his grip. At the same time, I held onto my blade as tight as I could, not wanting it to drop.

He could have killed me then and there, I was sure, but instead, he tossed me across the room and I landed on my feet rather than fell to the ground. My throat still felt tight, but I could keep going. I had to.

While I was working my way to fight him once more, he turned his attention to the rest of the group and launched the limbs from his back their way, along with the vines as well.

I ran forth, unsure whether I could make it to tear them down, or whether I should focus more on the main body. My nerves were on overdrive, however, as they seemed to be going too fast for me to do anything in time. I glanced and saw Remora shove everyone else aside as she intended to take the full force of the limbs and thorny vines.

“You idiot!” I shouted.

But instead of her sustaining any further injuries, she rolled out of the way in time.

Maybe I made the wrong assumption. Good job. As much as I still have my issues with you, I would much rather see you alive. That reminds me...

“I just have to ask: were you the one who brought Rhea back to life?”

“Yes, I lived through her corpse,” he smiled, amused at himself.

“No. That’s not what I mean. Did you revive her?” I put emphasis on ‘revive’ as I insisted he answer the question. He just shook his head with an irritated frown on his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s true that if I had that power, it would have made it easier to get rid of your Remora, but I have no such ability. If I did, the only person I would want to revive would be myself.”

Not your so-called friends that you claimed you had?

I steeled my resolve and ran at Cronus once again. At first head on, but seeing as he would have predicted that, I sidestepped, then swung my blade in a horizontal motion. He put up a wall of vines, but I slashed through those. Every time I went for the offensive, he put up more makeshift walls and backed away.

Is he weakening? I wondered, but soon, one of those limbs formed a mouth and in my carelessness, I was so focused on cutting down his walls that I didn’t react in time and it bit down on my ankle and tore out a chunk of my flesh.

“Aaah!” I screamed. I backed away to the side, but the pain surged through me and I began to walk with a limp, impeding my movements.

“Haa...haa…” I huffed.

He sent out more of them my way and I was able to turn to the sides to avoid them, but I couldn’t move as well.

I need to do something! I have to put an end to this here and now!

I tripped over myself as I tried to avoid the limbs once more and fell. I pushed myself back up, but before I could move out of the way, one of the limbs pierced its way into the back of my shoulder. Once again, I yelled out and my face grew strained.

“So much for your little act of heroics,” he taunted.

I rolled over and tried to hold up my blade, but he slammed his foot down against it and kept me from moving it.

“I’ve decided: you will be the first to be devoured,” he snarled and opened his mouth wide.

Devoured...devoured...of course.

I flicked against the blade and it retracted back into a switchblade, but not before slicing off his foot. He yelped, and as the vines repaired his injury, I limped and hobbled my way back toward the rest of the group.

“Nice try,” I heard from him, as a couple more limbs were sent my way. I thought I would have been done for, but Remora pulled out her rifle, split it into the two pistols, and fired at each.

“Thanks,” I wheezed out the word. While there were some unresolved things between us, I had to admit that at times, she had protected me as well.

“Do you think you can shoot off a chunk of rock from one of the walls?” I asked her in a desperate move.

“I can try. What are you thinking?”

“I’m just interested in reenacting an old myth,” I teased, and if I wasn’t already wincing, I would have winked.

The entire sea of vines in the back of the room seemed to head for us all as Cronus too approached us, little by little.

I transformed my switchblade once again into a sickle and tried to sweep them away, or generate enough of a gust to drive them back, but I found I no longer had the strength.

“Here, I may be a little buzzed right now, but I can still help,” Sunny suggested and held out her hand. In a show of trust, I handed her the sickle and nodded. With both hands, Sunny swept and waved the sickle in heavy motions, so much so that just as I hoped, the vines were driven back.

“This should buy us a little bit of time. Remora, your turn,” I ordered.

“What’s the magic word?” She teased and I was furious.

“Fucking hell! We don’t have time!”

“Nope. That’s not it,” she leaned over with a cheeky grin.

“Please!”

“There’s your manners,” she then stood up tall and formed her two guns back into a rifle and aimed at the left side wall. The resulting blast caused a few chunks of stone to drop.

Good.

Next was Tigershark, though I was a little reluctant, given that she was a child.

“I’m not going to force you to do anything, Tigershark, especially after some of the things you heard –” I began.

“Hey!” She scowled and looked at me. “I hate this guy too! I hate him just as much as I’m mad at you and Remora right now! Which is a lot!”

I gave a hollow chuckle.

“I guess I deserve that…” My attention turned to the stone. We still didn’t have a lot of time, but I was banking on a long shot as it was.

“Anyway,” I looked over, “do you think you can run over there and pick up the biggest rock you can find.”

“Um…” She looked toward Cronus, then back at the pile of stones.

“I won’t let any harm come to you and whatever I can’t do, someone else here can. I know I’m not the best, but…” Tears began to form. I wiped them away, then continued, “it’s not just me who can do something. I have to accept that.”

She nodded, then took off. Just as I thought, he sent one of the limbs her way while continuing to advance toward us. Remora shot it down before it could even get close to reaching Tigershark. I saw Tigershark look around at the pile, then she lifted up a large stone, large enough to be considered a boulder.

That kid sure is strong, I couldn’t help but smile.

“To think you were considered such a dangerous killer,” he mused to Remora, “and now all you can do is stay still and shoot your gun.”

“So...basically what a sniper already does?” She pointed out.

I saw Tigershark run back with the stone in both arms. Her run was more like a waddle, given the heaviness of the stone.

Four of the limbs from Cronus’ back shot in my and Sunny’s direction, but Ray wrangled them up with the threads he kept in his pocket. They tried to break free, but Ray held on tight and the threads were plenty tough in their own right.

“No matter,” he looked irritated, “it’s time to feed.”

His mouth opened wide, like the jaws of a shark, it was large enough to swallow a single person whole. Sunny tried to swing the sickle to stop him from reaching in any closer, but he held her wrist tight with one hand.

“Tigershark! Now! Toss this in his mouth!”

She looked to the side with a befuddled expression, but did as instructed as I backed away and she tossed the stone right in, as if it were a basketball and Cronus’ mouth was the hoop.

He clamped down and swallowed the stone then looked back at us once again.

“Not what I intended, but inconsequential.”

Maybe. It was a stretch. But I had to do something.

“Now,” he reeled one arm back as he readied it, probably for a clawed attack. Maybe he intended to impale one right through the chest. Something which unlike himself, I could not recover from.

However, nothing happened.

Or rather, I watched him struggle to move as he stood in place, then started to gag.

“What...the shocks did nothing...this shouldn’t be happening…” he wheezed out.

“It’s taking everything within your power just to break the stone down, I can imagine,” I theorized.

He continued to retch, then dropped down to his knees, shaking hands on his throat.

“I must have used too much power,” he heaved out the words, “with everything I threw at you all, it should have been enough.”

“You’ve been straining your power for a while now,” I corrected him. “And it just goes to show, you’re not without your limits.”

He spat out little chunks of rock onto the floor, then scowled at me, his face red.

“It will take a while for me to recover. However, I will return. Enjoy your peace while it lasts,” he warned.

“Oh, believe me, I will,” I stared down at him, then held out my hand to the side, “Sunny, my blade, please?”

She handed me the sickle and I transformed it back into a sword.

“You might want to look away for this part,” Sunny warned Tigershark. “And here, I’ll cover your eyes.”

With the last ounces of strength I had left, I plunged my blade down his open mouth. Behind us, the wall of thorns dissipated into little streaks of dark smoke. As I stared down into Cronus, blood gurgled out from his mouth, and then his eyes rolled back, lifeless. When I lifted the blade out, he fell to the floor before he too turned to smoke.

Exhausted, I dropped to my knees, retracted the blade back into a switchblade, then closed the knife back into its casing.

“A for effort?” I turned to everyone and joked. Exhausted, I thought I was about to turn to sleep. Maybe even an eternal sleep, but Sunny reached down and lifted me back to my feet.

“Let’s go back home,” Ray told us, or maybe it was Sunny. Their voices were a blur to the point where I wondered if I was the high one. But it was a pleasant thought.

Yes, home.

[deathduty]

Murder on Aisle 5 || Deirdre & Nicole

TIMING: Sometime during Halloween. Yes, Halloween.  LOCATION: Grocery Store PARTIES: @nicsalazar & @deathduty CONTENT: Death, gore, bongos SUMMARY: You’ve gotta be kiwiing me; Deirdre and Nicole meet at a grocery store and this shit is bananas (b-a-n-a-n-a-s). They make a great pear. Love each other berry much in this one in a melon meeting of fig-gin amazing circumstances. Nicole is the apple of Deirdre’s eye, and they turnip the beet. Peach out, bitches! 

Grocery shopping was one of the things Nicole was capable of doing with efficiency. In and out in less than fifteen minutes. She didn’t like to spend more minutes than necessary debating which items to buy. That way, she avoided the crowd as much as possible. She wasn’t expecting to be greeted by so much noise that day. Busy evening, it appeared. She walked faster, shoulders rising to her ears, in a helpless attempt to cancel the sounds. She’d be done soon, didn’t even need a cart. She tried to ignore the sensation in her stomach warning her something was wrong. That was just her brain being paranoid, surely. But then, as she headed for the beer section, all hell broke loose. Why would people be shouting at others to run? No. Not her problem. She had reached her quota of fucked up encounters for the month, she was not about to go and figure out what was going on. Taking a few steps back she turned around with the intention of going to a different store, stumbling into a body. “Shit!” she raised her hands with the intention to check on the woman she had bumped into, before another piercing scream filled the air. “Sorry… don’t know what’s got people so—” she began to explain, before a small crowd ran toward them, seemingly escaping from… “Ah, fuck off!” It had to be a joke. The causes of the commotion had turned around the corner, standing at the end of the aisle. Dumbfounded, she froze on the spot, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Judging by the very real blood dripping from the leg of someone who had limped past them, she had just walked into a murder party. 

Deirdre liked grocery shopping about as much as she enjoyed actually cooking; it was pointless and all she really wanted was pie anyways. Now that Morgan didn’t eat, the groceries were just for her, and deciding what kind of tomato sauce she wanted was not how she liked to spend her evenings. And she didn’t know what kind of tomato sauce she liked anyways; wasn’t there only one kind? Tomato? When people started to scream and shout beyond her, Deirdre ignored them and looked at the sauces. When she felt a scream claw up her chest, she snapped on her choker, swallowed the scream, and continued to eye the sauce. Should she just buy canned tomatoes and make sauce that way? It was better than the pre-bottled sauce, right? And It was just tomatoes in there anyway, what did it matter? But then what was the point of bottled tomato sauce if it was just tomatoes? These questions plagued Deirdre, and then someone bumped into her and she spun around, as if she’d just been interrupted from having an epiphany, which for all this woman knew, she might have been. 

“Oi, watch it, you hu—“ She couldn’t help but notice that this woman wasn’t looking at her, which was as insulting as it was curious. Deirdre turned her head, following her gaze. “Is that a banana holding a knife?” Deirdre blinked. Beside it, was a large bundle of grapes, cheap and made of cloth, holding two knives. And beside that, an apple covered in blood. Coincidentally, the apple didn’t have a knife. Though that was probably because it had sharp teeth along its center, with painted eyes above. These fruits were not like the juicy, glossy kind that littered her cart. They were big, made of fabric, with arms and legs but no hands and feet. They clutched the knives clumsily, as if their sleeves were made of wire that wrapped around the handle. Each had a black, cloth hole, and nothing staring out of it. “Looks like someone’s having a fun costume party, or they were going to,” she smiled at the woman, trying to offer another grin at the man who limped away. The apple leaned down, lapping at his trail of blood with a felt tongue. Deirdre plucked her own apple out of her cart, and threw it at the corresponding fruit costume. The carnivorous apple crumpled under the weight, though the other two fruits began their slow march towards them. “Now is the point,” she nudged the woman, “that I think we run.” 

It was the fruit flying close to her ear and hitting the apple costume that pulled Nicole out of her state of shock. Now they were real targets. “You think!?” she dropped the items she had in her hands, and hurried the woman down the aisle, ready to run for her life. She felt no obligation to stick with her, but as long as they were in the same area she assumed there was an unspoken deal between them. Such as, don’t feed the other to the flesh-eating apple, and the like. She hoped the stranger wasn’t considering her as bait, at least. Thankfully the fruits were slow, they would be able to lose them soon enough. It wasn’t so bad. Reaching the end of the aisle, she was ready to turn around the corner, when she almost crashed against another costume. As if the situation didn’t feel surreal enough, a giant, six foot operation game stood before them. Except there was no board, just the big cartoon body seemingly made out of foam, with holes where the plastic organs were meant to be. Tweezers connected by a wire to his shoulder. She saw the tweezers rise in the air, before surging forward and stabbing another running customer. 

She grimaced, eyes closing when she heard the tweezers pull something out of his body, splattering sounds against the floor. “Fuck that! Back up— back up!” Nicole shouted, though she knew the other woman didn't need to be told. They were trapped between two murderous options, and they had to pick one escape route. Looking at shelves on her side, she held onto a mop stick, ready to use it as defense. Had she had more time, she would’ve wondered why the cleaning items were in the aisle in front of the tomato sauce. They had more important things to deal with than terrible store organization, however. She was ready to swing. All they had to do was dodge one of the costumes looking for blood, and they’d be out of the way. Easy. Unless they were to encounter killer vegetables on the other side. “Killer fruits...” she panted, looking from one end of the other, weighing her options, “or real life... operation game?” chest heaving, she turned to the woman for opinions.  

Deirdre liked running. It was therapeutic, in a way. Running for the chance to not lose a limb was a little less therapeutic. “So you come here often or…?” But regardless, she grinned as though she was having fun. In a way, she was. Getting stabbed didn’t sound great to her, but watching someone else get stabbed was always a fun time. And, really, though she was trying to be more considerate of the humans...it wasn’t like she was the one stabbing them. Not this time, at least. “Oh, I don’t know,” she smiled, head turned to the side, “I think that one’s kind of cute.” She wasn familiar with what it was, exactly, but watching it pluck the heart out of some unsuspecting person and try to stuff it into its own cartoon-heart-hole, stirred some fondness. And then it started moving towards them. Deirdre glanced back, noticing the fruit were still wobbling their way, even the apple had stood up now. As it always was with these cases, she could just scream, but where would be the fun in that? “Well considering you have a stick, and I am, for some reason, carrying tomato sauce that I don’t even remember picking up, I think we could make a very strange pasta right now.” She looked back at the woman, waiting for her to laugh. “Okay, fine,” she huffed, snapping her attention between the two groups. Fruits and...what did the woman call it? Operation? “The fruits are fabric, and clearly they can just be pushed over. So that sounds boring. But that--” She turned to the board. “Looks like fun. So I’m going that way.” She threw her tomato sauce bottle at it, watching it bounce off harmlessly. “See! Fun!” And she could’ve used any of the knives she had hidden on her person, but that felt like cheating, in some way. And so she grabbed a plunger and a toilet brush (she liked the thematic bond between the two makeshift weapons). And with a grin, wide and impish, she charged and slid under and around the ‘Operation’--fearless and foolish in equal measure. “Well? Are you coming?” 

The woman was not taking the situation seriously at all, Nicole soon realized. The thought that it could all be a prank crossed her mind. Surely, any normal person would be freaking out in her shoes. Or maybe, that was just the way she dealt with stress. Who was she to judge? “Cute” she repeated in a deadpan. “Don’t think buddy over there thinks getting their organs ripped away is very cute” she looked down at him. She should offer help, right? “That’s not even the good kind...what are you doing?” she spoke with urgency, nodding at the bottle in her hand. Under the circumstances, she couldn’t find the humor in the woman’s joke. “Don’t you think we have better chances of— you know...living with boring?” she gestured vigorously at them. They had barely moved a couple feet since she had last looked. God they were fucking slow, why was she even scared? The stabbing motions from the banana still looked threatening, though. Right, the knives. Eyes widened, she watched the woman throw her tomato sauce at the costume. Was she mad? She was mad. Did she have a death wish? Most definitely. “Are you out of your mind?”. 

Nicole refrained from cheering on the woman when she ran at the operation game. She didn’t want her to think that her actions had been in any way responsible. That move had been very impressive though, she had to give her that. Was she coming? She looked behind, at the stupid wobbling fruits. It would be so easy. To swing the stick at the apple and run for her life. But then — her stomach sank at the realization—  the exit would be much easier to reach if she took the game route. Just then, she remembered she was faster than most. Right. Except, she couldn’t do it in front of the stranger. She was useless. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. She decided to run straight at him, squeezing herself through the space between the costume and the shelve in the last second. Not as spectacular, but she got the job done. On the other side, she almost crashed against the woman again and, without waiting, she tugged at her wrist, pulling her to run. “C’mon”. The game followed behind, its giant tweezer stabbing aimlessly in the air.  

“Actually, as a life actuary, I can tell you that boring has no factor on lifespan.” Deirdre grinned. That wasn’t true, risky behaviours were understandably a factor against life expectancy. But she wasn’t so attached to upholding truth, or the respectability of her job. She’d rather this woman do something fun, and wild and….not squeeze herself around the Operation. “Fates, you’re so boring…” she grumbled, mad at the display. She continued to complain about it as they ran. “I mean, what was that? You couldn’t have done a roll? Or a cool shimmy? You’re clearly fit—“ she gestured to the woman’s body. “—I know you can do a roll, at least.” But there was one way to manufacture interesting displays. She grew quiet, plan brewing in her head. The exit was close, yes, but Deirdre had other ideas for them. A smirk flickered across her face before she slunk back and tripped. “Ahhh!” She yelled, realizing that her acting skills were pretty abysmal. “My ankle is—I think I sprained it! Curse me for running in heels!” Her ankle was completely fine, and she’d ran in worse footwear plenty of times. But the game hobbled closer and closer to her, tweezers snapping in the air like claws. Behind it, the gang of murderous fruit approached. “Help me, strange, boring woman!” She looked back at her newest ‘friend’, pleading at her with her eyes. If she wasn’t going to be fun, Deirdre would make her. 

“The fuck is a—” had they not been pressed by the situation, Nicole would’ve finished her question. No, really. What was a life actuary? A made up profession, surely, if she was to go by the woman’s inability to take things seriously. It all had to be a prank. And she was obviously part of it, right? She did turn a round for a moment, in a desperate search for cameras. Otherwise, who could be so terrifyingly calm in the face of danger? Her steps almost halted when she heard the woman’s words. Boring? She wasn’t technically lying, but the statement didn’t hold any truth at the moment. Was there a more entertaining way of escaping? She scoffed. “Right, sorry I wasn’t showy enough for you. Maybe if we actually... make it out of this alive— I’ll think about body rolls and… and shimmies. No me jodas”. She tripped over a pile of cereal boxes on the floor, a second later she heard the woman yelling behind her. Nicole’s head whipped in her direction, the initial concern vanishing as soon as she saw no signs of pain in her face. Confused, she stood there, wide eyes demanding an explanation. “What the fuck are you doing? Get up!” she hissed, kneeling next to her. 

Behind them, the tweezers snapped again as the Operation man held onto another organ, stuffing it in a different empty hole. Nicole swallowed. She could pick the woman up. Throw her over her shoulder. Easy. Out of spite, because she had been nothing but an inconvenience. But also, because she didn’t want her to have no organs, if she was being honest. Her eyes sized her up. How heavy could she be, really? Would that be too humiliating? Being eaten by a useless wobbling apple sounded more humiliating. Why did she care about any of that when the stranger clearly didn’t? She could leave her behind. Yes, she wanted to. The possibility was faint, but intrusive. She wouldn’t allow herself to consider it. “Swear to god if you don’t—” grabbing the toilet brush that fell from her hands, she threw it at the naked foam suit before turning to the woman again. “What. Do you want. From me” she demanded through clenched teeth.

“I. Want. Something. Fun.” Deirdre’s Cheshire-like grin only grew as time ticked between them. She leaned closer, putting her face against the woman’s boundaries of personal space. Her game of pretending to be injured was too transparent, but it didn’t matter so much. She’d have her entertainment one way or another. “You’re not going to die here, love. So why don’t you have a little fun?” And if she was, well, then at least Deirdre would get a real show. “Don’t you want to surprise me?” She blinked, batting her eyelashes. She wasn’t sure how effective her pouting would be, but she tried it anyway. “And anyway, I’m too hurt to move…” Her voice dripped saccharine, and she twisted her body like the damsel she wasn’t, revealing an ankle that didn’t have a scratch on it. Beyond them, the Operation board snapped its tweezers again. At some point, one of them would have to win: Deirdre’s desire for mischief, the woman’s boringness, or the strange costume’s hunger for organs. “Maybe you can fight the costume?” She offered the idea, “or burn the store down or ooh--sacrifice someone to it!” She lit up with imagination. “Come on,” she implored the woman, “you’d help a beautiful injured woman, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re out of your fucking mind” Nicole inched closer, too frustrated to feel uncomfortable over personal boundaries. She shook her head, wanting to say no but all she managed was incoherent mumbling. She was speechless. No, she didn't want to surprise her, she wanted to go home. She blinked away the tears of frustration in her eyes. It was clear that she wouldn’t win an argument against the woman. Her eyes flicked to the ankle, anger bubbling up. She was lying. For some reason she was lying about her sprained ankle to delay their escape, why? She wasn’t sure what compelled her to do it. She had stopped thinking at all, it seemed. But something the woman had said lingered on her mind. She could fight it. Stupid? Sure, but at this point she was out of ideas. She wasn’t afraid of dying, but she would’ve hated to do it while pissed at a complete stranger. Furious eyes glanced at the woman one last time before she stood, facing the costume. She swung the stick she still held in her hand, breaking in half as it hit the operation man. 

Nicole’s eyes widened. How was that possible? Foam wasn’t tougher than plastic. What kind of deficient products was the store selling? The costume stumbled slightly to the side, not enough to topple over. She stared at the broken piece in her hand, then down to the woman who had been watching it all unfold. Yeah, that was it. She discarded her stick, rushing to the woman’s side again. “You wanted fun, right?” She nodded, waiting for any twitch of her face as confirmation, before lifting the woman off the ground without any warning. And no— carrying her in her arms felt too personal, she decided. She did not want to see her annoying face any longer. Her arm hooked behind the woman’s knees, the other securing her back and with all the strength she could muster, she put her on her shoulder. A small, rational thought in the back of her mind, worried about her display not being human enough. Fuck it. She could say she exercised. “Shit—” she grunted at the effort. Her initial idea had been fun, especially to get back at the woman. But she really hadn’t thought it through. For one, she would be dealing with the woman’s resistance, and for the other, she had overestimated how wide her frame was to carry another adult. Whatever, she’d deal with the neck pain later, the exit was her goal. “This view’s more entertaining for you, no?”

Deirdre couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face at the promise of a fight. She saw the woman get ready and swing and...break her weapon. She blinked. And then burst into laughter. “Did you see that? You should have seen the look on your face!” She was distracted now, playing the scene back again in her head. The seriousness in which the woman attacked, the sound of the plastic snapping, the awkward tumbling of the costume. She loved it. She loved it so much, in fact, that she hadn’t been prepared for the woman to lift her up and, as if she were a sheet, throw her over her shoulder. “Hey!” She wiggled, surprised at the woman’s grip. Some humans were stronger than they looked, she guessed. “Hey! You can’t carry me! I have standards!” Which typically amounted to only letting her girlfriend carry her whilst in the privacy of their own house. Being carried always made her feel like a child...and she hated feeling like a child. Then again— “No, you’re right, the view is good.” She said, looking down. “I could play your ass cheeks like bongos right now, which I have half a mind to because you’re carrying me!” She wriggled again, careful not to be too good at it, lest the woman throw her aside and she ended up with a real twisted ankle. The Halloween season was important to her, and she couldn’t let it be spoiled with an injury. “You suck,” she said, giving up on her resistance. “And I don’t even want to play your ass like a drum anymore. That’s how much you suck.” She crossed her arms petulantly, waiting for the night to be over. 

Navigating through the chaotic store aisles with a woman on her shoulder proved to be one of the hardest things Nicole had ever done. People were still running amok to escape from the murderous costumes. Between the screaming, the shoving, and the bumping into each other, she didn’t miss the fact that people were also actively running in the direction of danger. It seemed the woman over her shoulder wasn’t alone in her insanity. She scoffed at the mention of standards, making sure to slowly turn around the corner so the woman didn’t hit her head while she kept wriggling for freedom. Oh, so she wasn’t worthy of carrying someone like her? What standards could she possibly have? All she had was a worrying lack of common sense and shitty taste in tomato sauce, she had no room to talk about anything. She gritted her teeth, partly from the fatigue, but mostly to stop herself from blurting out something hurtful. The woman was probably incapable of feeling hurt, anyway. The costumes began to distance, as one turn of her head confirmed. They really were pathetically slow. The exit was close. She’d never have to see the woman in her life again. “Wha—” her brain stopped working for a moment when the woman spoke, her grip slipped. Apparently she wasn't too busy to blush from the embarrassment. 

In hindsight, Nicole would have preferred to be stabbed by the banana costume than to hear the woman compare body parts to musical instruments. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe she could drop her, go back, and plead the fruits to off her. Whatever worked to unhear those words. She didn't know what to say. “What the fuck” she was all she whispered, to preserve her energy. Crossing the store’s exit came with a wave of relief that made her almost drop the woman right there. Her knees wobbled, but continued until she was far enough from the crowded exit. “Yeah—” she panted, failing to lean against the wall before unceremoniously letting go of her. “Well, you suck too, ‘least we agree on that” she snarled, feeling unusually defiant. So childish. She winced, ribs burning and legs shaky as she leaned against the wall. She shot the woman a cautious look, almost expecting her to run back for more fun. “Please don’t go inside again” she was tempted to grab her wrist to stop her, but she’d had enough of touching strangers for the rest of her life.

Deirdre frowned, arms crossed over her chest. “You don’t command me, human.” Which was her affectionate way of saying that she just might go inside, there was more death sure to happen, and she wanted to watch. Not that this lady would understand, Deirdre wouldn’t be surprised if she had a night of watching the news and then sleeping planned. She struck Deirdre as just that boring. Boring enough to, with great probability, stop her from going back inside. Deirdre grumbled. “Fine!” She threw her hands up, crossing them again as she brandished a pout at the stranger. “Fine. I won’t go back inside.” From the store, bloody humans stumbled out, screaming and shivering. Beyond them, the shrill sound of sirens cut the night air. This situation would be dealt with, boringly, by boring people. Deirdre turned to the stranger, whom she ought to thank but never would. “I guess….I’ll see you around, bongo-ass?” Deirdre waved, the scene turned from the dark of night to the flashing blue-red of police. She didn’t want to be around. She patted the woman’s shoulder—as close of a thank you as she’d ever get—and turned and ran. 

The night yielded less fun than she wanted, and the costumes were gaudy if anything, but perhaps, above all, Deirdre had gotten something far more special: someone to annoy. 

[heliads]

Away With Me Chapter 1: Marriage Contracts

Princess Y/N is dreading her looming arranged marriage to a wicked nobleman when she makes an unlikely friend in castle craftsman Peter Parker. Will they be able to become close despite their differences in status?

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The quiet of your room is slowly slipping away. You can hear footsteps growing louder outside of your door, and the distant din of conversation is making its way through the stone halls to reach you. You breathe out quietly, embracing the silence for as long as you can before the knock sounds on your door.

“Come in.”

Your best friend and lady-in-waiting, Elizabeth, walks in and shuts the door quietly behind her. “Are you ready?” You turn back to the mirror, finally taking in the sight of the girl reflected back at you. Her gown is intricately beaded, flowing to the ground. A small golden crown glints out from her hair. She looks powerful, and yet still so lonely.

You turn back to your lady-in-waiting. “I don’t know if I can ever be ready. In just a few minutes, that marriage alliance will be approved and I’ll be stuck with that awful man forever.” Elizabeth smirks at that, gently fixing one of your sleeves. “Oh, come on now. Surely it won’t be that bad, right?” The young Werner von Strucker, son of the wealthy Baron von Strucker, is waiting for you in the throne room of the castle. You’ve long known that you will be forced to marry him, but today is the day it will officially be set into motion. 

You sigh unhappily. “You don’t know him, Elizabeth. Both him and his father are not good men. This is a terrible idea.” Your friend touches your shoulder sympathetically. “You don’t have much of a choice. As princess, you’ll have to take on an equally powerful husband. Besides, it’s what your mother would have wanted for you.”

Your breath catches at the mention of your mother. Queen Natasha was one of the most important people in your life until she had died defending the kingdom from Thanos and his invaders. The Battle at Vormir has gone down in history, but no amount of fame and praise will ever bring your mother back to you.

You blink away your tears. “But that’s the thing! My mother would have wanted me to live a happy life, and marry the man I love. Werner von Strucker is not that man.” Elizabeth looks at you, understanding mixing with helplessness in her gaze. “I know, Y/N, but princesses rarely get a say in their futures. You know that as well as I do.”

You look back at the mirror one last time, then turn towards the door. “Yes I do.” Elizabeth opens the door, and you step out into the hallway, heels clicking on the tiled floors. It’s time to sign the marriage agreement.

Werner von Strucker is waiting with his father in the throne room of the palace. You feel yourself tense up when he walks towards you. Something about him is just repulsive, and it’s confirmed when he whispers in your ear: “You’re late, I won’t tolerate that in any wife of mine. You should know better.” You can only nod politely and walk towards your father, the king.

“Ah, Y/N, here you are at last. If you’re ready, Baron von Strucker, let’s begin.” With that, the kingdom’s scribe brings out a parchment and quill, your father taking it and beginning to read aloud. The document is long and cumbersome, full of legal jargon you can only barely understand. The gist of it is more than clear, though: you will sign away your life to be wed to von Strucker, thus guaranteeing you will leave your home to live with him in misery.

Clearing your head, you focus back on the current matter. Baron von Strucker approaches the marriage contract, quill in hand. He signs his name, and so does his son. Your father turns to you. “Y/N, please sign below their names.” He offers you a quill, and you take it. Can everyone in the room see the way your hands are shaking? You dip the plume in ink and slowly pen your name on the document. Even after you finish signing, you stare at the curls of black on the paper spelling out your name. It is done.

Your father claps his hands together with content. “And so our two children will be wed.” He shakes the hands of Baron and Werner von Strucker, then turns to answer a courtier who has just approached him. The work of a king is rarely done, even on the days when he signs away the life of his daughter.

With the king distracted, Werner von Strucker approaches you. He takes your hands in his, appearing to all as a kind, loving gesture. His grip, however, feels tight enough to break bone. “You will marry me in a month’s time. Trust me, Princess Y/N, this is only for the benefit of our kingdom. If you disappoint me in any way, I will have you killed. Do you understand me?”

You look up at von Strucker, eyes wide. When you don’t respond immediately, he tightens his grip on your hands even more and leans forward until he’s only a few inches away. “Do you understand?” You nod fearfully, and wrench your hands away from him the second he lets go. Werner von Strucker steps away from you to speak to his father, and you take this moment to start walking away from him. You move slowly while in the presence of the courtiers, but once you’re out of sight, you start moving faster and faster until you’re almost running.

Your feet take you as far away as you can from the throne room. It doesn’t matter where you’re going, just as long as it is where nobody can find you. Your breath comes harshly in your chest as you fight back the hot tears that threaten to swell from you. Finally, you run into the sunlight of the courtyard and throw yourself down behind a tall flowering trellis where nobody can see you. You fling your head into your hands, desolate. It’s all gone now, every dream you ever had for the future. With von Strucker treating you like an object he can destroy at a moment’s notice, you won’t be able to visit friends or even your family. You won’t be able to be anything more than a delicate doll of a wife, brought out to show support for the von Struckers and nothing else.

“Are you alright, miss?”

A voice behind you makes you jump in fright. You turn around quickly, and see a palace craftsman walking towards you, eyes full of concern. The first thing you think is that he might have been the first person to ask you that in a long time. The second thing you think is that he is one of the cutest boys you’ve ever seen. His light brown hair falls in slight curls around his face, and the golden brown of his eyes leave you speechless. You can barely stammer out a reply, which is testament to how distracted you are. As a princess, you’ve been trained in confidence and conversation, and you should not be this unsure of yourself around a boy you’ve never met.

“I’m-I’m fine. It’s nothing.” The boy raises his eyebrow, then steps closer. “With all due respect, miss, you don’t exactly seem fine.” You open your mouth to rebuke him for being so forward with a princess, and then it hits you. This boy has no idea who you are- you rarely appear in person before the artisans and craftsmen of the castle, and without an escort, you are just another escort. As the boy crouches to sit beside you, you hurriedly remove your crown while his back is turned and hide it in a purse at your side. You’re not sure why, but something about this boy makes you want to be friends with him. True friends, not the dutiful companionship often brought about with royals.

“Do you want to talk about it? I know I don’t know you very well, but I can hardly leave you here without doing my best to help.” A genuine smile comes to your lips, the first one in a while. “There’s nothing you can really do about it.” You sigh, and look out across the gardens of the castle courtyard. “My father has procured an arranged marriage for me. The only problem is, the man I’m supposed to marry is abysmal. He’s horrid to me and I can’t imagine spending an hour in his company, let alone the rest of my life.”

The boy clucks his tongue in sympathy. “Arranged marriages sound dreadful. Luckily enough for me, craftsmen don’t have to worry about such things until they’re far too old or boring to care.” The boy widens his eyes as if he’s suddenly remembered something. “Oh! Forgive my manners, I don’t believe I’ve properly introduced myself. My name is Peter, Peter Parker. I work with the craftsmen up on the other side of the castle. And you are?” 

Peter’s gaze falls to you, and you fish around for some response that doesn’t involve the fact that you are actually a princess. “I’m just a, uh, lady-in-waiting. My name is Y/N.” Peter’s smile is true and kind, and it makes you smile in return. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Y/N.” His brow furrows as he thinks for a second. “Wait, Y/N like Princess Y/N?” He leans closer conspiratorially, and you can feel your heart pound in your chest. Has he figured you out already?

“Did your parents name you after the princess because they looked up to the king and queen?”

You try to hide your sigh of relief. “Yeah, that’s it. They figured it would do well for me to be similar to the princess.” Peter nods understandingly. “Yeah, I could get that. It’s a shame about your marriage, I know most ladies-in-waiting don’t really have a choice about all that.” You tilt your head to the ground, despondent. “I have no other option. My parents need me to marry so I can secure a good standing for my family, but I wish I had some control over my future. I have to give up all my hopes and dreams for a man who does not care whether I live or die.”

Peter places a hand on your shoulder, and you find yourself leaning towards him just a little. It’s funny- as a princess, it’s never been easy to form friends or close relationships. Everyone who gets close to you has to be investigated to make sure they’re not a spy or a killer, and even then, most people your age in the castle avoid you for fear of upsetting you or your family. Being a royal means that you have to keep your heart closely guarded, but somehow, Peter has already gotten past your barriers without even trying. You never intended to tell him anything, but yet, here you have.

“I know you don’t know me very well, Y/N, but I want you to know that I’ll be here for you.” You raise your eyebrows at him, and he grins, continuing on. “Okay, I know, but I want to be friends. Honest. You seem like a really nice girl, and there aren’t many nice girls who hang around the craftsmen’s workplaces. I say we both could use a friend.” He holds out his hand with mock seriosity, and you consider it for a second before taking it with equal solemnity. “To being friends.” You shake hands for a moment, then both of you dissolve in laughter.

Across the courtyard, a few ladies passing by look over at the two of you, frowning at the loud sounds of your laughter. You and Peter turn to each other with twin sheepish expressions, then do your best to stop your amusement as the ladies walk past. “I guess we’re not as inconspicuous as we thought.” Peter says. 

You’re looking at him, hand pressed across your mouth to hide your laughter, and wish you could freeze time in this moment. To be free, with him, not as a princess but just a girl with a boy, is one of the most golden feelings you’ve ever had. The glint of mirth in his eyes, the flush in your cheeks, it all comes together to change this awful day into a splendid one. It hits you then that you don’t really want to leave this courtyard, or him.

“You will try to meet up again, right?” Peter nods. “Of course.” You let yourself relax once more. So many people have seemed like your friend before, but once they get word of how stressful it is to be a member of the royal court, they always seem to forget about you. Somehow, you don’t think Peter will leave you behind, even without knowing you’re a princess.

Peter looks at you, troubled. “Wait, but if we’re both working, how will we be able to meet up? I don’t know where you would be.” You think that over for a moment, then an idea comes to you. You stand up quickly, and, grabbing Peter by the hand, you guide him over to a tree along the edge of the courtyard.

“This tree is hollow. How about this: we put a note in the hollow tree, and it’ll tell the other person if we want to meet or not. We can say a time and everything.” Peter nods, understanding. “We’ll meet here, by the trellis. Where I first saw you.” You beam at him. “Perfect!”

Across the courtyard, you hear the toll of a bell. Peter looks at you through panicked eyes. “Oh, that’s the bell for work. I have to go.” He starts to stride hastily across the courtyard, but then dashes back to you. “Promise you’ll meet me again.” You nod eagerly. “I promise.” He looks at you one last time, with a smile that could put the sun to shame, and then he takes off across the courtyard once more. You are left standing by the flowers, feeling yourself truly be happy for the first time in a very long time. You barely spoke to Peter for a few moments, yet somehow, you know he will grow to be very important to you.

[destielshippingnews]

Edvard's Supernatural Rewatch & Review: 1x05 Bloody Mary

In this review, I’ll be discussing suicide, survivor’s guilt, and bad dialogue.

1x05 Bloody Mary enjoys a rating of 8.4 on IMDB. It’s a strong, atmospheric episode embodying the horror-show vibe the show was intended to evoke. It was originally conceived as being episode two or three of the show, and would have made a better episode two than 1x02 Wendigo due to its themes of guilt and bereavement linking into Jess’s death and Sam’s role in it.

Mirrors are one of the defining symbols of this episode, something made painfully obvious by the incredible number of mirrors the family owns. They are both the means whereby Mary kills her victims and the means whereby characters reflect on themselves. Sam’s info-dumpage that ‛mirrors reflect our soul�� should make it explicit to viewers paying attention that Mary is a metaphor for guilt. This guilt, however, is not necessarily the guilt that comes of commission of a crime or a moral evil, but the feeling of guilt borne of not being able to save somebody, or survivor’s guilt. A person burdened by such guilt looking in the metaphorical mirror must face a metaphorical Bloody Mary waiting to pass judgement.

Quite rightly, this judgement is not just, as indeed feelings of guilt, self-blame and survivor’s guilt are unjust. A discussion of the subject on Supernatural Therapy podcast raised the topic of self-blame when in fact one is not to blame: blaming ourselves is an attempt to feel in control of something and to understand it a little better. The deaths which the ill-fated father and Charlie blame themselves for are incomprehensible.

I can say from my own experience that losing a friend or loved one to suicide is impossible to understand. Grandparents dying of age is natural, and older relatives dying of long-term illness is understandable, though unjust. But when our driving instinct is supposed to be to stay alive, a friend’s or family member’s commission of self-murder undermines completely our comprehension of the world and our reality. It’s traumatic, and the mind seeks to understand and cope with something it simply can’t handle.

Returning to Supernatural Therapy, our feelings of guilt are misplaced attempts to control and understand, but they are more negative than positive. Thus Bloody Mary is an apt villain to don the role of avenging spirit in this episode, as she attacks people who feel guilty, regardless of whether or not they truly are responsible for a death.

This episode ties itself into the Sam’s character particularly closely, as Sam feels himself to blame for Jessica’s death. At first, his guilt is depicted as completely natural: he watched his possibly-pregnant girlfriend burn to death on his ceiling and was utterly unable to help her. Anybody in that situation would be dealing with guilt on top of bereavement and trauma, so he is naturally somebody Bloody Mary would go after. However, the revelation that he had ‛dreams’ (read: premonitions) about Jess’s death for days before it happened add another layer to his guilt.

That layer, of course, being his actual guilt in taking no measures whatsoever to ensure Jess’s safety. Sam is not a blue-eyed baby in 1x01: he is a man with deep knowledge of the supernatural world and was reckless to ignore them. It is never made explicit – unless something has slipped my mind – whether Sam had any experience or knowledge of humans with psychic powers, but it is clear that he knows about the paranormal. Any Muggle would be disturbed by having exactly the same dream of a loved one dying night after night, but would likely pass it off as stress, anxiety or some such. Sam’s no Muggle, and knows better. Was having a ‛normal’ life so important to him that he dismissed and ignored warning signs that the abnormal was coming for his lady? Is Sam partially responsible for Jess’s death here?

Knowing what I know of the circumstances surrounding Jess’s death, he likely couldn’t have stopped it, even had he called Dean and John for help. But he should have called them, and chose not to. If he had done so, she might have been saved. This is death by negligence.

What makes it worse is that he is aware that keeping his visions a secret got Jess killed, but at the end of the episode acts as though he is perfectly justified in retaining his secrets from Dean. Dangerous secrets overtly related to their mother’s death and the demon responsible for killing her, information which would be very useful to Dean and John if shared, but a danger if kept quiet. He learnt that not divulging his secret is dangerous for people around him, and elected to continue not divulging said secret to Dean. Please, dear viewer, bear this in mind in series 7, 8, 9, 15 and every other time Sam gets pissy at Dean for keeping things secret from him.

He even knows in this episode that keeping his secrets almost got Dean killed by Bloody Mary, but ‛just because we’re brothers, doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything’. Sam is supposed to be the hero of this piece...

Yes, some people are genuinely like that, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them, and I sure as Hell don’t like Sam. In the first five episodes, Dean is established as a flawed, contradictory hero who actually brings something to the table. Sam’s an entitled, spoilt prick who treats his brother like a joke and an embarrassment.

Returning to the theme of suicide and guilt, one thing that is not addressed in the episode is the dad’s own relationship to the mother’s death. That she overdosed on sleeping tablets heavily implies suicide, but for about half of the run time the viewer is expected to believe the father was somehow involved in her death, i.e. that he killed her, especially as the second victim was guilty of a hit and run where a boy died. What is never addressed, however, is that his guilt and the reason Bloody Mary targeted him is that he blamed himself for not being able to prevent his wife’s suicide. Charlie is allowed the catharsis of expressing her grief to Dean and Sam, but the father is not afforded the same opportunity.

Apropos Charlie, her precise meaning when she said her ex-boyfriend got ‛scary’ is left occult. He clearly suffered serious mental health problems, something which a lot of people simply aren’t equipped to handle, especially when the one suffering is a close friend or partner. Young male victims of suicide also tend to have been very good at wearing a mask to hide: did he try taking the mask off for her, and she didn’t like what she saw? From what little information she gives us, the implication is that he threatened her with violence or that he used hard drugs or something, but the viewer is at no point privy to what she means by ‛scary’ or to the man’s side of things.

Whether or not the young man intended to frighten and manipulate Charlie by threatening her with his suicide is also unclear. ‛If you walk out that door, I’ll kill myself’ can mean different things depending on tone and context, ranging from a desperate plea for help against an overwhelming mental illness to abusive, sadistic mind games. Having lost more than one man to suicide, the idea that someone would use it as a weapon is inconceivable, but without further information I simply can’t say.

From what little information we have, the man’s suicide was not Charlie’s fault. If we assume he was threatening her to keep her with him, she was right to run. Nobody should be mistreated or burdened like that, and no relationship should be built on a foundation of such abuse. She is important, too. Even if it weren’t a threat, the situation was intensely unhealthy for everybody involved and she was very justified in distancing herself. It wasn’t her fault, and I just wish Dean had told her that in the motel room, rather than simply talking about it to Sam in the car afterwards.

Speaking of said conversation in the car, Dean’s heart was in the right place as he tried to get Sam to stop blaming himself, but he perhaps revealed his own lack of coping tools whilst doing so. Dean is intelligent and empathetic, and far more caring than people give him credit for, but he was raised in an environment where he was not allowed to talk about his fears and anxieties. Nor was he provided any tools whatsoever to facilitate understanding and processing his traumas and illnesses; John wanted him as an emotionally-dead weapon to use in his war against Mary’s killer.

Dean feels, but with no healthy tools nor anybody to acknowledge and help in processing his issues, he bottles things up and pushes them aside as best he can. Of course, the best he can is not all that best, wherefore the drinks and the sex and the gallows humour. This is John’s echo in Dean: John silenced him, and Dean therefore is not best equipped to process his own trauma at the beginning of series 1, much less counsel somebody else (though this changes as the years go by and he learns how to act without John stymieing him).

He meant well in telling Sam he can’t carry on blaming himself for Jess’s death, but the problem is Sam can’t stop blaming himself. Nobody in Sam’s situation can stop themselves feeling what s/he’s feeling, and has to simply feel it. I knew my friend’s suicide wasn’t my fault, but grief, bereavement, and survivor’s guilt are not rational and can’t be controlled by the cognitive mind. The feeling mind is the one in control, all the cognitive mind can do is make suggestions and hope for the best.

Regarding grief and Sam’s situation, Sam’s nightmare and his conversation with Dean at the beginning of the episode are about as explicit as Sam’s grief for Jess gets int eh show, and it’s not much at all. They were together for maybe two years, she was possibly pregnant with his child and died on the ceiling above him, but he doesn’t do any actual mourning or grieving most of the time. That itself is okay as some peolel take years before they’re ready to process grief and bereavement, but Sam behaves like a slightly disgruntled, moody teenager which we’re supposed to interpret as him grieving Jess’s death, but we see next to no actual grief, trauma or expression of loss.

His discussion with Dean is supposed to give us the idea that this is a recurrent event, but it is very, very far from sufficient to genuinely make us believe that Sam is anything other than a little bit sad for Jess.

We have, however, already established that Sam is partially responsible for Jess’s death, but Dean doesn’t know that. In spite of it not being the most productive thing Dean could have said, it was valid. Grieving is natural and uncontrollable, but how we react to it is at least partially within the jurisdiction of the cognitive mind. We can’t resist grief, as even denying it acknowledges its presence, but rather we have to accept it as a natural part of life to be endured and felt, but not be controlled by it.

Similarly, Mary is herself a victim of trauma, having been murdered by her lover. Understandably, her mentis is significantly non compos after the experience, and killing people she deems to be guilty is perhaps her way of trying to process what happened to her. Referring once again to Supernatural Therapy podcast, Jovanna Burke (who played Mary in this episode) states she believed Mary saw herself as a vigilante trying to get restitution for people wronged by killing their murderers, but her world-view became so skewed and she lost all concept of a grey area. For her, things were black or white: guilty or not guilty. Dean as good as says that there is only guilty or not guilty for Mary: if somebody thinks their actions or lack thereof got somebody killed, that person’s guilty. Sam, after all, didn’t kill Jess, Charlie didn’t kill her ex-boyfriend and I don’t believe the father had a part in the mother’s death.

I would add to this that such thinking sounds like a trauma victim’s survival mechanism. If things are easily understood as either / or, good / bad, safe / dangerous, the risk of danger is theoretically reduced. Think wild animals assuming humans are going to kill them: it’s safest to assume and run away.

This has been quite the lengthy discourse on mirrors, but it’s time to switch from the metaphorical and symbolical to the more practical, that being the exact nature of how the magic works. Mary was bound to the mirror she died in front of, but as long as that mirror remained intact, she was free to wonder the mirror world when summoned. In the climax of the episode, Dean and Sam summon her to her mirror in the antique shop, smash it, then face her manifest form in the real world. Dean defeats her by showing her her own reflection in another mirror, whereupon her own reflection deems her guilty of multiple homicides and kills her.

Hawk-eyed readers will have noticed already, but if Mary’s power was bound to her mirror, how then could her own reflection have killed her when the mirror binding her was smashed? Was the source of her power in her, then, rather than the mirror? If so, then how would her seeing her own reflection killed her? A ghost in Supernatural doesn’t have the power to destroy itself like that: it simply can’t. A ghost has refused the Reaper’s invitation to pass on, and can’t therefore pass on, yet Mary does. I can’t make this make sense.

One more thing about that scene is that Dean’s eyes began bleeding, implying he is also hiding a secret where somebody died. Fans made a big number out of this at the time, and Kripke promised us we would find out in due course… but we never did. This is the first instance of one of Dean’s storylines getting dropped by the show, and it’s far from being the last one.

Kripke didn't like Dean. Dean was supposed to be the dumb, womanising popular guy who always gets the women but 'treats them badly' in comparison to Sam's sensitive nice guy act. Sam was Kripke's insert, and Dean was just a character the audience wasn't supposed to like either, so he didn't bother giving Dean his own storylines. Even series 3 is more about Sam's anger and 'grief' than it is Dean's.

Now that the main points are out of the way, there are more minor points in the episode to comment on. One is the lovely cinematography, especially during the cold open / prologue. I began this review by stating that mirrors are important in this episode, and the camerawork in the beginning really drive that home. Moreover, seeing Mary reflected in so many mirrors – and indeed seeing so many reflections – blurs the line between the real world and the mirror world.

The children’s sleepover is also pleasantly lit, with very dark shadows and lots of candlelight evoking the feel of a ghost story. The shot in the library with the rays of light shining on the boys also looked wonderful, and the visual storytelling in the antique shop at the end was impressive. Said visual storytelling refers to the close up shot of a blinking red light, followed shortly after by the headlights of the police cars drifting across the wall. This is intelligent storytelling that expects the viewer to be paying attention, and it’s definitely appreciated.

In spite of my apathy for Jess as a character, the final shot of Sam seeing her on the pavement was fantastic cinematography: as with the flashing lights, it told us a story without needing to tell us anything. Sam saw her, and then she disappeared. Coming at the end of an episode about Sam’s guilt, and roughly a minute after his advice to Charlie about not blaming herself, this strongly suggests something has changed in Sam: the guilt that he was holding on to has begun to ease, or even vanish. It is, however, just a suggestion, and Sam giving Charlie a therapy session he sorely needs doesn’t mean he’s going to follow his own advice.

I wish, however, that more had been revealed about the kind of pills the father was taking in the cold open.

Speaking of the library – which we weren’t –do you remember when Wi-Fi didn’t exist? I remember. Currently I’m sitting about two metres away from my computer which is tethered to my mobile phone, typing on a wireless keyboard, using a wireless mouse in a room with no working ethernet cable or modem, listening to sounds of an oil rig on Bluetooth headphones, but in 2005 none of that was possible. There’s almost as much time between now and then as there was between my birth and ABBA winning Eurovision in Brighton in 1974.

Which is a nice segue into the soundtrack of the episode. The music in the opening is effective, being both reminiscent of the prologue of 1x01 with its minimalistic, slow piano track building tension and unease, but with an underlying hollow, howling wind sound that I can only liken to the dementors in Harry Potter.

Less impressive, however, was Mary’s dialogue, showing a complete lack of effort put into it. ‛You killed them, you’re guilty’, ‛you did it, you killed that boy’.

I rewatched this episode for the first time in 12 years in December 2020, by myself in a silent flat very late at night. I was 29, and this episode still creeped me out, making me hesitant to look at the window in case my reflection moved. Whilst it’s not my favourite episode, it’s certainly a solid effort with a memorable – if dated – antagonist in a self-contained MOTW story. Like the pilot, it showcased Kripke’s initial conception of the show as being about American folklore (although Bloody Mary is very much a British thing, too), and boasts a very atmospheric miniature horror show. It also offers character development and growth, even thought Sam’s claim that he would die for Dean is laughable in retrospect.

After once more exploring folk tales in 1x05, in next week's analysis of episode 1x06 Skin I'll be looking at how the show expands its daemonology by introducing a series staple.