#i thought maybe sometime shortly after they become vampires

[hostiae]

there's a gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach, something unlike anything he'd experienced prior. it's not quite like human hunger and unfortunately, far more difficult to satisfy when they couldn't just keep blood around 24/7 ( or maybe they could, maybe they should have, he checks the thought for later ).

❝ i'm so hungry, ❞ he groans through the sound of the piano — he'd been listening to sybelle play for what felt like hours, dark eyes focused on the high ceilings of their hotel apartment. with a heaved sigh, he finally sits up, swinging his legs back to the floor from the couch and looking to where sybelle played instead.

❝ i think i can eat more than i could before — do you think that's weird? do you think it'll change? the old ones don't seem to eat much — ❞ he gets off the couch, crossing to the bench to sit next to her, frankly thinking out loud more than anything else, eyes following her fingers on the keys before he looks at her face again.

❝ do you want to hunt with me?❞

@stormlit liked for a benji starter !!

[taki-yaki]

What if Tav is a hireling? Astarion gets attached to her, so after the brain is defeated he either convinces Withers to let her stay as a messenger, or Astarion follows Withers around so every time there's a world ending emergency Astarion volunteers just so he can get Tav as a hireling. Astarion becomes a selfish hero that keeps saving Faerûn XD

Oooh a Hirling would be interesting since from the limited in-game info, they are souls who clawed their way back from the Fugue Plane for vengeance but they can not recall how to speak.

Astarion x Hireling Tav Headcanons

You didn’t expect your life to be cut so shortly, one minute you were showcasing your battle prowess in a local tavern, and the next some so-called absolutes decided to cut your show short by slaying you, all in the name of their so-called god.

But you didn’t want it to end here so soon, there was so much more to do, clawing out of the fugue plane holding onto the last string of thread that your life was hanging on. Before a white light blinds you, wake to the feeling of soft sand under your feet.

It felt strange for the others in this little coup to make him the designated group leader so quickly. He was lucky enough that they hadn’t figured out that he was a vampire spawn, yet. Despite the unique set of people he’s gathered to journey with him, perhaps some extra muscle wouldn’t hurt to have.

When you’re summoned, you seem to be more aware of your surroundings, unlike the others he’s summoned, acting more lively than that of a lifeless husk awaiting commands. When you attempt to speak, nothing comes out, until you feel a husky voice come out from your mouth instead.

“This vessel is at thy disposal. Do what thou wilt.”

Of course, there would be repercussions for attempting to escape the fugue plane alive, as a final act of cruelty by the gods, you can only view the world through your eyes all whilst another puppeteers the words spoken through your mouth.

During your battles, you would usually follow the instructions parroted to you from the voice of the withers.

Until one fight, thrown into yet another battle with members of the absolute cult, noticing a surprise ambush about to strike him. 

You attempt to react by yelling for him to move, yet nothing comes out of your throat, quickly pulling against the strings in your mind and rushing towards him, shoving him aside to take the force of the impact.

After the fight, he approaches you with a slight twinge of annoyance in his voice

“I can’t tell whether you were brave or stupid doing that during that fight, but I see that you're not like those other brainless ghouls. But maybe we should work on your communication skills instead.”

Every night from then, he would attempt to teach you thieves can’t as a form of sign language for each other, creating a loophole to the calamity that the gods wish to gift you. Even Slowly bonding, by sharing your tales with him from tavern fights to tales of your travels around Faerun.

The others in camp had thought their leader had gone a bit mad, after seeing him night after night talking to what seemed to be a husk of a humanoid with only a craving for vengeance. Even Withers lighting jabbing at him for being attached to such a person, always reminding him to “not distracted on thy quest, seeking the comforts of the flesh.” to which Astarion would respond with a short huff, before taking you away from him.

After the defeat of the brain, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to stay on this plane forever, with your soul ready to depart, unable to cling onto this body provided to you for much longer. Astarion stays by your side throughout it, promising that he’ll meet you again, no matter what.

After you left his side, he would end up travelling around Faerun in search of either, any world-ending events or withers. Sometimes he would get lucky, having to save a county or two from the new villain of the decade, those who wish to revive the absolute cult, but those fights didn’t last long enough.

Ultimately, Astarion would get ahold of a wish spell, either as a gift from a powerful wizard or one from the gods after becoming Faerun's most selfish hero after stopping numerous life-ending threats. Giving you a real physical body for your soul to finally call home.

[dyns33]

Flufftober 2024 - 10 Henry (Eat Locals)

At that moment, Henry looked at her like a father to whom his child had just asked the terrible question about babies and how they were made.

However, Y/N really thought that her new question was simple, among all the questions she had asked him since her transformation. It was normal for her to be curious about her new nature and want to know everything.

"So ?" she insisted, not understanding his confusion. "Why can't we see our clothes in mirrors ? Because, they are visible if we put them down, they don't become vampire clothes. But on us, nothing. However, we see the objects we hold, as if there was a ghost holding them. What's the rule ?"

"I… Where do you find all these questions ?"

"Internet, mostly, but I also ask myself them as I discover things. You didn't really answer some of my previous questions by the way."

"Like which ones ?"

"Why do we burn in the sun and not under the moon, which is literally lit by the sun ? Why do we sleep in coffins ? Why do we have to drink blood ? Why does a stake in the heart kill us and not something else ? Why can't we stand silver ? Why do people think garlic can repel us ?"

"Um… I have to go." Henry said, getting up quickly without giving any further explanation.

Y/N could have tried to hold him back, but maybe he really had a good reason to leave, like a meeting with the other vampires. Even if Angel and Sebastian wouldn't care if he was late, Peter would be unbearable. At least, more unbearable than he already was.

While waiting for him to come back, she decided to watch movies, read books and continued her research, which only brought her more questions.

She didn't understand why Henry wasn't answering her clearly. Maybe he was afraid of disturbing her with some answers. Her dear maker was terribly protective of her. It was adorable, but sometimes a little too much.

The sun was about to rise when he came back. Following a precise ritual that he never changed, he took off his coat, placed a kiss on her head, went around the house to check that all the curtains were closed even if they never opened them, then he came to sit next to her.

Henry let out a long, tired sigh, while Y/N rested her head on his shoulder.

"Long meeting ?"

"You could say that. Boniface…"

"He had more complaints about the quotas ?"

"No… Well, yes, like always, but… This time he was making fun of me." "If it's because of your diet, everyone told you to tell him to go to hell, he's stupid."

"Actually…" Henry mumbled. "I asked them your questions. Because I don't know the answers. And since Peter is the oldest, he would be the only one who could answer me. But half the time, he said he didn't know either and didn't care. The rest, he just snickered stupidly."

"Oh. You didn't have to ask him."

"You wanted to know, love. And I… I want to be a good maker. I'm supposed to be able to answer all your questions. I've never asked myself them to tell the truth."

She then felt bad, realizing that Henry was ashamed of his ignorance. However, he had no reason to be. After all, his maker had abandoned him shortly after his transformation, leaving him to fend for himself.

Even if he was very old, experienced, and having met several of his peers, it was normal that he still had some gaps, on subjects that were not really useful to him to survive.

He knew he needed blood, a coffin, and to avoid the sun, he didn't need to know why.

"I won't bother you with my questions anymore." She said, trying to hide her disappointed pout.

"Hey. No, love. You're not bothering me at all. I find you terribly cute when you tell me your theories. Maybe… Maybe we could find the answers together."

To tell the truth, it didn't matter to Y/N if he didn't find anything. As long as they searched together, the path was much more valuable than their destination.

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 56 - back to apple cutting!

"Perhaps I just got the smell of them." - Already super Hunt-y.

"There’s a sharpness to them. They’re hunters. But over the years I’ve become a hunter as well and maybe predators recognize each other." - I'm actually pretty sure they do. Just because an animal is a predator doesn't mean the are on top of the food chain. Cats for example are predators but stand in the middle of the food chain. They have to be wary of other bigger predators in order to not to become prey themselves.

"The hunt is a purpose. It’s not just a way to get through the day, it’s a reason for there to be a day at all." - Already foreshadowing that fledgling Avatars have to feed their "god" or it will feed on them.

"I couldn’t focus, couldn’t do anything, so I hit him again. Hard. In the head. And then he was quiet" - Thank you, Jonny, for not taking head injuries lightly! I hate that in movies. People hitting others on the head, sometimes even more than once and the victim seems fine except for a concussion. You are very likely dead after those hits I've seen in movies. And then you get people doing this in real life and go surprised Pikachu face when they find out, that they actually killed them.

11:37 "Because that’s what I thought it was, you know.", right after "you know" strange whistling sound in the background.

"Vampires were what lurked in the dark. The only thing that lurked in the dark." - I did very much appreciate this in Dog Soldiers. Oftentimes in monster movies there's only this one type of monster and everything else is still fiction. In Dog Soldiers there's actually the question raised, if werewolves exist what else is out there. On the opposite it reminds me a bit of Special Unit 2, a TV series. The boss of SU2 explains to the newbie "Everything's real! Dragons, gnomes, spider people… Except for vampires. They are pure fiction. Don't know what idiot came up with that idea!" XD Laughed so hard.

"when she locked eyes with me, and the weirdest sensation began to flow through me. I wanted to leave." / "I’ve been sober for three years at that point but I felt like I desperately wanted to get high, and I knew that the best place to get some was out in the night." - Web/addiction connection!

"Looking back I think it might have been my own mind rationalizing the way I felt my will being tugged out of the room, but it was still very powerful. If I hadn’t had a lifetime’s experience identifying and fighting off the effect of the vampire’s gaze I probably would have done it too. But I did, so I stood my ground." - Ok this is remarkable, being able to withstand the control of the Web. I was already announcing in my ask to MAG 10, that I have a theory there and that I would lay it out in MAG 56. This came to me after a friend of mine with a Husky told me, that her dog had slurped up a huge spider directly off the wall just when she was casually walking by. I thought "Ha, Hunt beating the Web" for funsies, but it made me think. Shortly after this I coincidentally listen to MAG 56 while in the car (it was my husband's relisten) and this came up. And it made me think… I think the Desolation is not the only Entity opposing to the Web. The Hunt is also capable of this! (Pokemon type chart Hunt super effective!)

Aaand we get to the JonMartin part. After MAG 22 Jon really got better, he only mentioned Martin in an a bit exasperated tone in MAG 26 ("It always happens to him") and then there's a bit of stressed out conversation in MAG 39 which was widely very open though (and being stressed in a situation of being trapped by the Flesh Hive is understandable). I think this is actually the first time since MAG 22 that Jon was an arse to Martin.

MARTIN "Sorry, who’s… who’s Trev–" JON "Trevor Herbert. The tramp? The vampire hunter." - Lol, that could be a conversation between me and my spouse. They often forget what I told them and I will have to elaborate in great detail what I was talking about.

JON "I can’t forget it. Everyone in this place has so many goddamn secrets and I can’t trust a word you say. Not about this and not about Trevor –" MARTIN "Jon, just–" JON "[shouting] Martin!" - Ok, let's take a look at this. Jon is reaaaally spiraling into his fear there. He's building up his paranoia in those last few sentences with this line being the culmination and only the tiniest stimulus could be the last straw. And it was. Martin again trying to deflect broke the camel's back and Jon snaps. I don't know if I should be angry at him in this specific scene, or sad. Because this is such a low, even for Jon. He completely lost it there.

JON "…what." - He's immediately deflating.

MARTIN "But most of my employment details are made up. I’m only 29." - Since the previous statement was live (3rd November 2016) we have a pretty good idea were in the timeline we are right now. We know that Martin's birthday is in summer since they went for ice cream, so we can tell exactly when Martin was born - 1987.

JON "Yes, um, I jus… I won’t mention it to Elias. Just between us." - He sound so, sooo relieved indeed. I'm also totally on board with the headcanon that Jon WANTS Martin to be innocent. Jon doesn't admit it at this point but he likes Martin, he trusts Martin. And that shows by believing him.

This is an uncomfortable scene but I think it's different than Jon's pre-MAG 22 hostility to Martin. He's not an arse because he doesn't care about Martin. It's because he actually does care about Martin and is genuinely scared to lose him.

It is amazing just how much foreshadowing there is to the Entities in seasons one and two.

[caitlin666]

The issues I have with Uglies by Scott Westerfeld especially to do with the books ideals of beauty

I have a really weird love-hate relationship with this series. I love the characters and worldbuilding, but some of the themes are really icky.

I had a love-hate relationship with these books in school. I loved the world building and characters and sci-fi stuff like hoverboards. But in the books a young teen who is an “ugly” (or normal looking person in our society) becomes a “pretty” or perfect looking person through a complex surgery, and preteen and young teen me was so insecure and so scared that I would never be pretty because I wouldn’t get the surgery.

I thought the beauty standards were never explicitly revealed or defined in the books but I re read quotes and plot summaries, as apparently a pretty needs to be

-skinny but not chubby just “healthy curvy”

-symmetrical face

-dimples

-big eyes

-small nose

-big lips

-no pimples or blemishes

-long hair if you’re a girl

-muscles and abs if you’re a guy

-“not too short but not too tall”

-“not too pale but not too dark” (which lowkey has racist undertones)

For reference, swimsuit models in our time (their past) would be considered ugly and A list top tier celebrities would be considered “almost pretty.”

Apparently “natural pretties” do exist who do not need the surgery, but are EXTREMELY rare, apparently like a 1 in a million chance if that. Maybe even 1 in 10 million.

Some fans headcanon supermodel Taylor Hill as a natural pretty.

Literally every character aside from a select few who are “rebels” get the surgery and I thought there was something deeply wrong with me (even though I initially I wasn’t even a teen yet I was 12) and that insecurity carried into early high school honestly. I feel like Mean Girls (a movie filmed in 2004) has a similar premise but a way better execution because Cady realises being a plastic (or popular pretty girl) is bad and wrong. It isn’t glamorized in anyway like being a “pretty” in the uglies series is.

The “uglies” and most students at Mean Girls high school are seen as inferior to the “pretties” or plastics but ultimately it plays out differently and with mean girls the story actually makes sense. It NEVER made me insecure because funnily enough the plot was super secure and had a strong message. Uglies didn’t. You could even compare a character in Uglies; Shay to Janis in Mean Girls in that they are dark haired tomboys and they want nothing to do with beauty or popularity and are rebels, however Shay ultimately conforms and becomes a pretty and Janis never conforms

MOST books I read as a preteen and young teen were pretty innocent stuff like vampires and mermaids and fairies and princesses along with mindless chick lit about high school drama that wasnt anything serious and overall fun. But yeah unfortunately I did read this series lol. Even divergent and hunger games which I read were also sci-fi but it wasn’t glamorised in anyway.

One person commented in an uglies book review video how back in high school, popular girls started calling anyone who wasn’t popular an ugly shortly after the books came out.

What’s crazier is that I forgot about these books for YEARS since like 16 (I am 20 now) when I FINALLY started to feel comfortable in my own skin (funnily enough the same age when characters also become pretty), but only recently like a week ago I remembered them and all the weird memories started flooding back.

I was so scared a guy wouldn’t ever find me attractive because I didn’t fit into that hyper specific mold and looking back that is SO fucked up like what the actual fuck. I would sometimes spend hours examining my face thinking that there was something deeply wrong with me and super upset I couldn’t get a surgery to become perfectly beautiful.

When someone becomes a pretty, aside from having the surgery to look beautiful, pretties become brainwashed to be airheaded and not have critical thinking skills. But aside from that, they can party and shop and have no boundaries or limits. There’s no overall drawbacks to being a pretty and that’s why it feels glamourized. Pretties aren’t even mean aside from judging “ugly” people (who are normal looking) and that’s only because they have been brainwashed to act that way.

I’m also going to compare this book to two kids movies. The first being Shrek. Fiona is a gorgeous princess who has a curse on her to become an unattractive ogre at night. Fiona learns to love all aspects and facets on herself and decides to fully become an ogre and embrace herself and learns beauty comes from within. Tally the main character of Uglies, starts off being “ugly” then becomes “pretty” and then becomes “special” an intimidating looking pretty who’s a crime fighter. The series ends with her not being brainwashed anymore but her still looking like a special. A better ending would be for her to stop looking pretty or special and becoming her “ugly” self again but embracing it and learning beauty comes from within and she doesn’t have to be pretty or ugly, she can just be the best version of herself.

Another movie is Ugly Dolls. In the movie, dolls are separated into two towns, Ugly Town and Perfectville. Six ugly dolls want to become perfect, so they travel to perfectville and try to complete a series of challenges, struggling along the way. Ugly dolls never go into stores but pretty dolls are. The leader of perfectville is scared that ugly dolls won’t ever sell. However, the ugly dolls defeat the leader and get into stores, and the kids love them. The two towns merge into imperfectville, and extreme beauty standards don’t exist anymore.

Also I’m going to mention that the third uglies book called Specials is kinda glamorizing cutting (self harm) and even had a gang called The Cutters. I blocked most of that out of my head so I can’t recall much.

Various “pretty” characters also starve themselves to make themselves seem “bubbly” which was pretty slang for “cool.” That was also messed up.

It’s sad though because I loved the hoverboards and the other tech in the books but unfortunately it got overshadowed by the messed up beauty messages. Apparently Netflix is making a movie with Joey King as Tally but I don’t know whether it will be good or not.

Lemme know your thoughts below!

[autisticandroids]

Oh patron saint of mpreg, tell us, what is the absolute gold standard canon divergent mpreg scenario with Cas and Dean?

so for me the gold standard is for cas to get pregnant due to some kind of magical or metaphysical situation that dean at least does not perceive as sex. bonus points is cas is hesitant about it but refuses to explain why (because he doesn't know how dean will deal with the concept of himself being able to potentially get cas pregnant), so dean is like "we're doing it anyway" and then they do it and then cas doesn't tell anyone that he is pregnant until circumstances force the information out of him. and then dean has to deal with the fact that 1) cas can get pregnant, 2) cas is pregnant, 3) it's his, and he does so pretty poorly.

the rest is under a cut because this post is over 2.5k words long.

my favorite times for this to happen are at the end of season nine, just before dean dies and gets demonized in do you believe in miracles, and at the start of season twelve, just before sam and dean go to jail, because the pining in both those scenarios is delicious but it is so much more powerful if cas is also pregnant, and never even told dean. double points if the truth somehow comes out while they're separated so when dean comes back it's like. yeah cas is pregnant. it's yours. welcome home dean now you have to coddle cas' emotions because he thought he would have to raise your baby alone.

the season twelve scenario is particularly delicious because 1) we can have lucifer slut shaming cas in front of crowley in rock never dies, so crowley knows before dean, and 2) much more importantly, mary is there, and i am obsessed with like. okay. several things.

- the idea of mary getting all baby fever because she misses her boys and this is like. a baby she can take care of because she never got to take care of sam

- the idea of dean working through some of his parentification trauma by coparenting a child with the parent whose place he felt he had to take

- the idea of mary coming in and projecting her insane 1980s gender roles all over cas, suddenly treating him like a woman, stripping him of agency, etc. and like. dean would also do this even though he's not from the eighties, but mary would do it double strength, and they would reinforce each other, it would be a nightmare

- also mary trying to relate to cas on the Travails Of Motherhood etc. and cas being like ?????????? like i cannot stress enough that the weird gender roles she projects onto cas are also standards that she held herself to back when she was a Wife And Mother. while cas is like mary i am not a human woman and also i don't see what "having to look pretty for my man when i'm all baby bloaty" has to do with anything. that's not something i feel like i have to do

oh and 3) could you imagine lily sunder has some regrets if cas was pregnant? unfathomable episode. like ishim and mirabel's reaction but ALSO lily's. and it would fix the number one issue i have with lily sunder, which is that the resolution of the moral dilemma is "well AKSHUALLY the kid was human and not a nephilim so killing it was bad" rather than "it was bad to kill lily's baby, full stop." like ishim's cover up and using the machinery of power to manipulate the truth is very compelling, but the fact that it results in the moral essentially being "it would have been okay if the kid had been a nephilim" suuuuuucks.

basically, there's a reason i have two entire mpreg aus set in season twelve.

and then the delicious part in the season nine version is like. one, dean is away for much longer and he could be anywhere. also he's a demon and he's cheating on cas with crowley. and then even when cas gets him back he's still cursed with the mark, so we can get all weepy over that. you know. i'm the one who's going to have to watch you murder the world and i'm eight months pregnant. etc etc.

but the other thing that's juicy about this version is that cas is still semi-involved with the other angels at this point, like he's roadtripping around with hannah and they're trying to get heaven under control, so carrying a nephil is going to really affect those relationships. so he's going to be probably disliked by the other angels, and there are MANY opportunities for slut-shaming, but at the same time, the other "outcast" type angels might respect him for violating heaven's dictates.

and then of course there's his grace vampirism victorian wasting disease. in canon he's perfectly happy to let himself die, but if he were having dean's baby he would absolutely not do that, that's dean's baby he's endangering there. so of course there's the terrible guilt of having to kill other angels so he can live, plus potentially preparing to die shortly after childbirth so he doesn't have to keep killing. delicious.

and on top of all this cas can get slutshamed by metatron in, depending on when exactly he gets knocked up, meta fiction, stairway to heaven, and do you believe in miracles. plus stairway to heaven would be insane like all the angels would know that cas is pregnant. they would see it in his grace. like cas' angel army would just. know that he was pregnant with a nephil, and have to accept that because he's their leader. in love with humanity indeed.

i'm trying to think of other good times for this drama with cas getting secretly pregnant through a nonsexual interaction to take place. it would be great in season six. like: he's doing a blasphemy with his body but at the same time he's this big important rebel leader so they can't say shit about him, and also he's pregnant while fighting these big important battles (fun and sexy), AND this is like, hot on the heels of the realization that something about his feelings for dean is untoward, expands beyond the bounds of ordinary friendship and camaraderie. like he realizes that, and maybe even that he has sexual feelings for dean, and then he gets immediately knocked up. stunning.

it would ALSO be extremely fun for it to be some kind of... i don't know, magical longer gestation times, whatever, but for cas to have gotten pregnant sometime in s5 and only realized during the Year Of Lisa. LOVE to watch a man rake leaves while both metaphorically carrying the taint of taboo sexual feelings for him and literally carrying his child.

but the thing about season six is, first of all, cas isn't really... envisioning a future with dean. not the way he does in the later seasons. like does he fantasize about a future with dean? yes. like. he really did watch that motherfucker rake leaves. but it's only fantasy. he expected to never speak to dean again after swan song until dean prayed to him in the third man. he's obsessed with dean, but it's distant. remote.

like, we talk about cas babytrapping dean in the later seasons with jack, and he absolutely does, and he would do it even more if dean got him literally pregnant, but that babytrap is about... how do i put this. it's about winning dean's affection. late seasons cas knows that he's going to die by dean's side. the difference that babytrapping dean makes is that maybe it will get dean to be nice to him in the mean time, instead of discarding him like so much toilet paper.

but season six cas doesn't think of it like that. if he were gonna babytrap dean, it would be in the more traditional sense of forcing dean to stay with him in order to raise their child together. and he would never do that. he wants dean to have a happy future, which in his mind does not include him. like, compare here "he's retired and he's to stay that way" in the man who would be king, where cas assumes that dean is happy without him and expects him to live out his days peacefully without ever seeing him again, to "i'm the one who's going to have to watch you murder the world" in the prisoner, where cas assumes that he will be by dean's side for centuries.

but anyway, the other, much more important problem with season six is that cas has a war to fight. like, in the later seasons, cas really has nothing. even when he's on tenuous good terms with the angels, he doesn't really have a home with them. the winchesters are his family, and he'd give up anything for them. he has nothing in his life. he's at rock bottom, and this becomes truer the further along you go. late seasons cas has nothing he would prioritize over serving the winchesters, and he would be happy dropping anything he was involved in to have and raise dean's baby. parenting would give him a purpose that he no longer has, because everything else has been stripped from him.

but in season six cas has a life outside of them. like yes, he has a war to fight, but he also has a place in heaven, with the other angels. he belongs somewhere, he has solid connections to the outside world. even if he didn't have a war to fight, i don't know how excited he would be to have and raise a baby (even dean's baby) because he simply has other things he could be doing. he's involved in the world beyond the winchesters.

like, the reason cas wants to be a parent is that he is totally alone and totally purposeless. having a child gives him both a reason for being and someone who will always love him and who he can care for. if he doesn't have that hole in his life he might not be so eager to fill it with a baby.

for all these reasons, this plotline really doesn't work in season six, because you simply cannot justify cas not getting an abortion, unless you do something nasty like make angel abortion impossible, which i don't love.

you COULD somehow put the impregnation just at the end of season six, maybe just before the man who would be king, such that cas doesn't realize he's pregnant until he's already godstiel. you guys are unfortunately very aware of how obsessed i am with pregnant godstiel.

actually, @jeanne-de-valois has a concept of like. a single, madness fueled midnight hookup immediately pre-tmwwbk (or maybe even during, but prior to the superman mistake), where cas is simultaneously so stressed from being stretched so thin from the war and the lying and the shady dealings, and so high on being The Big Man In Heaven, that he's bold and out of his mind enough to actually come onto dean, like he just appears one night in dean's bedroom and is like, fuck me, and dean is like 👁👄👁 okay. so they have one single adrenaline and madness fueled hookup, and then everything immediately goes to shit.

and i think that's a great place for cas to get pregnant, and then he doesn't realize until he's become god, or maybe he does and he's just like "i'll deal with it later," either way godstiel is like oh? i carry dean's heir inside me? i will have dean's baby. i will have dean's baby it is my right and also my boon to him and also a symbol of my great and magnanimous love for humanity. and also maybe i will put giant paintings of myself pregnant with his child up in churches. what about that. which would be fun. don't know when he would give birth though. actually it would be insane if he gave birth as emmanuel and was just like. raising dean's nephil when dean found him again. nuts. but it just doesn't really have the same flavor as late seasons mpreg. doesn't compel me nearly as much. like the symbolism of godstiel being pregnant with dean's child is fun and sexy but them actually raising the kid afterwards doesn't compel me nearly as much, so it's better to leave literal mpreg to the later seasons and let godstiel mpreg reside in symbolism and fantasy.

or maybe the fetus gets stolen by the leviathans when cas walks into the lake and dean has to battle his leviathanated nephil daughter as the main villain of s7. like she's dick roman's secret weapon. i think that would be fun, actually. kind of an emma situation but drawn out over the whole season. and he thinks cas is dead for most of it so she's all he's got left of cas and a mess cas left for him to clean up. big sexy.

and as a bonus, i will also tell you the best time, imo, for dean to get pregnant: near the end of season eight. possibly a single, tragic farewell fuck in sacrifice when cas is planning to lock himself away in heaven and they're never gonna see each other again. and this impregnates dean with cas' nephil.

but then cas is human. and he can't do anything about it. like generally if they managed to get dean pregnant somehow, cas would immediately talk him into an abortion (which wouldn't be too hard; dean's natural white midwestern man who doesn't vote aversion to abortion would be at war with the horror of being pregnant, and the horror would win), or might not even inform dean that he's pregnant, and just quietly end the pregnancy without dean's knowledge, because cas would never put dean through that. but if cas is human, he can't do that. and furthermore, that nephil is the last evidence of his angelic nature that persists. it's the last of what he used to be, the last of his grace. and there's something absolutely delectable about that.

then of course dean would have to leave the bunker if he was pregnant with a nephil, because angels would be after him, and he wouldn't want to lead them to gadreel, so i am imagining dean discovering that he's pregnant and then showing up in a panic at the gas n sip like "actually cas i'm also out of the bunker will you go on the run with me?" and then they go on the run and have to live in motels again and cas gets to live with take care of dean who is pregnant with his child which is essentially his dream, and he doesn't have to feel guilty because he's no longer capable of giving dean an abortion so he doesn't feel obligated to get him to have one. ideally cas gets re-angeled just in time to give dean an angelic c-section. or maybe they rely on a normal human c-section in a hospital and cas stays human and they are two humans raising their nephil, which is also fun to me.

[blackwidow-bby]

A Case of You -Alcina Dimitrescu x Maiden!Reader

I’ve been wanting to write something based on the song ‘A Case of You’ by Joni Mitchell. Alternatively the K.D. Lang version is also very good and meaningful to me. Also who better to write with than really tall vampire mommy 😭

As always feedback is appreciated highly! Thank you for reading 💙

Warnings: blood, and smut (18+) little babies

🩸🩸

You had been polishing the silverware reflecting on the years that you had been in Castle Dimitrescu. 3 short but eventful years. At the beginning it was hectic, bouncing between all of the orders from the daughters and those of the Lady herself. Cleaning up countless messes left around as if they were guests in their own home. Clothes here, blood stains there, broken plates and cups everywhere. It had been as if your birth in the village was a curse, born to feel ashamed of poor class. A majority of the women that lived in the village knew that the only fate of their futures was to be sent to work for Castle Dimitrescu until the end of their days. Once the fair young women reached 18 that was where they were sent. Of course not all of them were so “lucky”. The rest of the women and all of the men were left to the struggles of the small village left to the devices of the surrounding lycans of the other lords. Or worse, kidnapped never to be seen again.

Most of the villagers rumored that those that disappeared were taken by the holy Mother herself and experimented on. Everyone knew what she could do, but for all of the bad sometimes holy Mother Miranda brought some good. One time before sweet Imelda lost her leg to a lycan attack, she saw the fainted mark on the side of its face. The same mark her husband had upon his face on the same side, before his disappearance traveling back to town. As she was dragged back safely by a couple farmers who managed to kill the sickly beast, the only sounds that all of the inhabitants could hear were her screams of her husbands name. Utterly distraught that she could become so unrecognizable enough to his dead eyes that in his transformation could still cause her deadly harm. He never had an angry bone in his body, but if that rumor was true, the experiment had created a monster of a once calm man.

All of your years weren’t as hectic as the first year. Eventually the lady of the house had taken a liking to your work. Always quick to come and cater to any mundane request her and her daughters had demanded of you. Actually now that you think, you can’t remember the last time any of your orders came from the daughters. They only came from the head maid or Lady Dimitrescu herself. A small quirk of your lips found it’s way thinking of your Lady.

Shortly into your second year she began to request you privately into her bed chamber. The first time she asked for you, you had been scared that your end had found it’s way sooner than you would have liked. Your heart was racing in your chest, begging your feet to be just as erratic on the way to her room. Somehow you managed to compose your pace but your heart insisted on faltering you. You knocked three times on her door upon arrival. You were unsure if she had heard, the doors of the castle were solid wood and although your hands were not soft due to the amount of work you were asked to do, your knuckles certainly weren’t hard enough to evade a slight throb from the hefty door.

Her voice crooned from with in, “Come in, my dear.” You opened the door to her chambers carefully as to not slam the wood open and not damage whatever might be on the other side of its radius. She smiled down on you very sweetly. There was something in here eyes. It felt almost like an admiration. You wiped that thought from your mind as quickly as it came. Why on earth would she ever admire you.

She sauntered toward where you stood and slowly lifted her hand. The fear you harbored for the Lady caused you to flinch at her movement. She had never laid a hand upon your person but that did not mean your time would not come.

Your flinching halted her movements. Her expression changed but only slightly. “My dear, I am not going to harm you in such a way.” She had lowered her voice in the close proximity of your bodies. You opened your eyes once more to see her gently place her soft gloved hand upon your head. Gently she moved it down by your ear and caressed the side. “Come to me little one.”

You followed her to her vanity. The space was tidy with neatly placed powders and lipsticks and other make up you had never seen any of the women of the village actually own. She sat down on her chair in front of the vanity. All of the furniture you noticed was made to her size in this dim room. None of the maids were ever called to clean this space, it made you wonder if she even used it at all. Maybe the Lady chose to take care of her own space in a way she knew no one could ever recreate or perfect to her liking. She hummed and pulled your hand to her. In her glorious size, she picked you up and placed you on her lap facing the large mirror. Your eyes shifted between her and your own height. Even perched on her Lady’s lap, your height was still shorter than her own.

Her eyes never met yours even as she slightly moved about to gather a soft brush and place it closer within reach. Your heart was still bounding in your chest trying to make sense of what was perspiring at this moment. The Lady removed her gloves by pulling one finger at a time until they could slip off smoothly. She then reached up and began to undo the clean French braid your hair was done in. She was being so kind and so soft with you, you were baffled. She started to unwork the three strands until she reached your scalp. You moved in tandem with the Lady as she reached again to grab the brush and began at the bottom of where your hair reached. Her ministrations were so soft it allowed your heart to calm. You kept your hands in your own lap, not daring to speak before being spoken to or move before being asked to move. Your Lady focusing solely on brushing the tangles from your hair allowed your own eyes to look about the space you sat. Her only task to groom your tresses, allowed you to get a good look at her face. Her lips and cheeks looked so soft. Her face wasn’t stoic but content in the space. She certainly didn’t look as nervous to have you here as you did to be here. Occasionally her hand would come around the underside and her knuckles would gently brush against your clothes back.

Everything she did was so calm and planned and relaxing. You took the rest of the opportunity to admire her further. Her raven dark locks meticulously curled in their places. Her hat always cocked to the side on her head, you wondered if it ever got in the way. She certainly never let it bother her if it did. The sudden speaking of her voice caused you to jump due to how silent it was seconds before, “I had been admiring you from afar for a while now. I’m sure you have an idea of why you had been called to my chambers after not being asked to before.”

Your voice betrayed you, you had been silent for too long. “Y-yes my Lady. I think I know why I’m here.” She hummed again. You felt the brush finally make its way to your scalp. The bristles were so soft and comforting they made your eye lids heavy. Seeing that she was done with her work on your hair, she placed the brush back in its spot and made eye contact with you through the mirror. She looked at you for a couple minutes more until she spoke again. “You’re always so quiet and kind around everyone here. My daughters can have a way with making the maids end up with either tougher skin or breaking their calm façade.” She was now running her fingers down the length of your back over your uniform. “But not you. You are still the same as you were when you showed up. Quiet and composed.” You weren’t sure if you should thank her for the compliment or be offended by being told that you haven’t changed. You felt like you could handle anything after the tortures her daughters could put maids through.

You could feel her hands moving back up your back and over your shoulders. Her cold slender fingers found your collar while the other hand swayed your hair over your left shoulder no doubt to expose your neck to her. This is it. This is how you end. What a lovely way to die. Her faced inched closer to your exposed neck and you could feel her breath inches away from the space. Your eyes couldn’t seem to move away from her though. You watched the whole thing and how her face never changed emotion. Everything she had done with you was in admiration. Like she longed for what you could offer her as if she didn’t have everything she could want in this castle.

Her face inched closer until you felt her lips press against the spot she was just eyeing. She lightly kissed you and reveled in the sounds you let escape. A chill ran down your body and found purchase in your stomach. You could feel the butterflies going crazy. Yes truly what a lovely way to die. You braced yourself when you saw her go to bite. Braced yourself for the white hot pain to shoot across your whole body but it never came. Instead the only thing you felt was pleasure. She continued to suck in the same spot for moments more. It all made you feel a growing knot down lower. Her strong arms encircled around your waist to hold you tightly as if you could slip away at any moment. You felt them hugging you tightly. The embrace soothed every part of you. You had never felt so cared for.

Unconsciously you noticed that your hands found purchase upon her own. Her face lifted from the crook of your neck, not a smudge to be seen or hair out of place. You could feel her lips by your ear. “I could drink a case of you, and still I would be on my feet.” She whispered and it made you visibly shudder in need. What kind of affect was she having on you?

“You must never speak of this with anyone”

🩸🩸

She requested you many more times and each one was just as delicate and sweet as the last one.

“You’ve been polishing that spoon for an awfully long time, dear.”

Your head whipped around at the Lady’s sultry voice. Your Lady, you thought. “What is it that has your mind occupied?” She questioned.

“Nothing my Lady. I was simply thinking of you.”

She smiled a genuine smile at you and reached her hand toward you. You walked up to her and laced your fingers with hers. Every moment you spent with her you cherished since the first. She reserved so much kindness for you. Internally she ached for the next time she would request you again. Thinking of the way your blood tasted on her lips. So bitter and so sweet. She couldn’t help but want something slightly different this time.

You both made your way to her private chambers once more like clockwork. She allowed you to enter before bending her way inside. You immediately walked over to her vanity as that was where she always fed from you right after brushing out your hair. You turned to her and smiled but she stopped next to her own bed. “Come here to me, my little love.” You walked up slight confusion on your face. “If any of this makes you uncomfortable, I want you to stop me. Can you do that for me, draga mea?” You nodded slightly. She sat down on the edge of her bed and reached her hand to wipe the wrinkle that etched on your forehead in your confusion.

“My little doe, you mean more to me than you could ever know.” She pulled your hand to her and moved both of you to the head of the bed. Gently she cupped your chin in her large hand. You closed your eyes and suddenly you felt her lips press against yours. Gods they were so soft but so cold. You reciprocated her kiss. Alcina had craved this for too long but she needed to pace herself. She has the rest of the afternoon until the night to indulge in anything your freely gave to her. You didn’t move to stop her and she took this as invitation to continue further. Keeping your lips pressed to hers, her hands roamed your body lower than just your back. She relished in the soft skin of your thighs and the way you felt under material that had softened from years of wear and wash. She couldn’t help but think of how your bare skin would feel under her own hands.

Your own arms snaked their way to her face as you cupped the sides with both hands. Your lips continued to move in tandem with her own letting soft whimpers escape here and there. Her hands grabbed the hem of your dress and slowly made her way up to removing the garment. You whined when she separated the kiss to completely remove the dress. “Are you still okay, little doe?” You answered with a small yes and moved to undo the buttons behind her own dress. Once the buttons were undone enough to slide her dress down you moved the sleeves down her muscular arms. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of looking how small your body was compared to hers. How soft and unblemished your skin was. All she wanted was to kiss every soft inch. Even the one side of your neck that she fed from ceased a single indent. She always made sure to feed carefully as to not rise suspicions.

She pulled you back into her slightly laying over you and began to kiss you once more as her hands roamed to your chest. She wrapped her hand around to undo your bra carefully to free your soft tissue from their confines. She separated once more to look at all of you that was exposed. The gods certainly took their time in creating such a spectacular woman she had thought. Her whole hand moved down to palm your breast lightly. She could feel the bumps raise and your nipple harder under her touch. You let out a little moan under her touch. She could spend eternity doing anything to hear your little sounds. Little sounds only she could make you release. She looked into your eyes creating the distraction for her hand to move to your underwear. You stared deep into her golden orbs never breaking as she sought out your core with her finger. Your breath hitched when you felt her slide down your soft folds and move back up to your clit. You were warm and wet and all for her. Alcina’s sweet little doe. She pressed a small peck to your lips then moved her mouth down to your breast that her hand had just been. She began to suck as she teased the entrance to your tight hole. She relished in the feeling of your most intimate parts and the sounds she could draw out from your delicious mouth. You were arching your back into her wanting nothing more than to be so close to her.

Your hands gripped anywhere the could. Her arms, shoulders, neck, hair. Everything she was doing made your brain go crazy. You did everything you could to find where your hands fit best. Her soft tongue swirled around your nipple while the tip of her finger pressed deeper into you. She was losing patience in having more of you and it was taking everything in her body not to devour before she was content you felt as good as she did all those times she tasted your blood. But damn did she want all of it. He finger pressed deeper until she was down to her knuckle. Your soft panting didn’t give any indication that you were in pain. She started to move her finger in and out at a slow pace to get your body use to the intrusion. Your panting grew louder and so did your moans. You wish you could feel this way everyday from this moment on. So cared for, so deeply wanted. Alcina kissed her way up from your breast to your neck. Leaving light nips and soft kisses near where she could feel your pulse quicken. He finger moved faster inside of you, pressing at your soft walls until she found that spongey spot that would surely get more sounds out. She had to take her time though.

‘Ohs’ and ‘ahs’ were all you could really get out along with all of your sickeningly sweet moans. Alcina never expressed out loud but she wanted you to say her name. Moan her name out from your lips, cry to the gods or whoever would listen that she could make you feel bliss like you’ve never felt before. No one ever got this much want out of her. She never wanted anyone the way she wants you right now. The way she’s been wanting you since you came to the castle. Her little doe unraveling under her half naked body. You were finding it harder to contain any noises and began to moan louder the faster her finger moved. All of a sudden curled her fingers, hitting that one spot. “My Lady!” It made Alcina hummm. “Tell me little doe, do you know my true name?” It took every fiber of your being to come up with an answer for your Lady. “N-no my Lady. T-the maids, they d-don’t talk.”

It was amazing you could come up with that through your haze. The Lady was sucking on your neck while she curled her finger more to get you to come undone the way she wanted. “It’s Alcina little one. I want to hear my name fall from your lips.” The knot in your stomach grew. You were getting very close from her sinful fingers buried inside your tight hole. Alcina could feel your Wales tightening around her. As she felt you get closer she bit down on your neck to drink from you the way she had truly craved. The knot broke and you came hard on her fingers, screaming her name to the high heavens. She continued to feed through your orgasm and once she felt your walls stop pulsing she lid her finger out and detached away from your neck.

You were sweating at this point. Utterly spent wrapped up with your Lady holding you tight. She wiped the little droplets that formed on your neck and pulled you onto her as close as she could get you. Your head rested there on her chest still panting. She would go to the farthest parts of the world for you. Hopefully she would have all of the time to prove it to you now.

“I could drink a case of you.” She whispered into your hair before placing a kiss to your crown. You mumbled a little getting more comfortable and sinking into Alcina’s chest.

Sleep began to take over you. “I would still be on my feet.” Was the last thing you said before slumbering in your Lady’s arms.

🩸🩸

[taedet-omnis]

ML Boys Headcanons with a Pregnant MC? 💟

Hey dear. There are many requests about Eloise's pregnancy. So I'm gonna continue this as a series! Well... Y'know, it's also because business life can be very busy sometimes.

Warning: When these headcanons were written, it was assumed that Eloise was in her mid-twenties and had a more mature character. Because I think that her character presented to us in the game isn’t mature enough due to her age and is too young to have children. And since it wasn't specifically mentioned in the question, except of the Neil route, Eloise is still a vampire's chalice.

There is also serious confusion in the game about pregnancy. According to Beliath, Leaths can't have children, but we know that Beliath's father was also an ordinary Leath. Therefore while writing the headcanons, I assume that Leaths can have children only with another race (including humankinds) other than vampires, hybrids like Aaron and Beliath can have children with anyone, Iomlans can have children even if the other party is Leath.

Enjoy while reading! Headcanons are under the cut!

HEADCANONS ABOUT ML BOYS WITH PREGNANT MC: PART I

VLADIMIR

■ One of the things that was believed to be true among the vampires was the rumors that the Leaths could not have children. There have been rare cases in history where Leaths have had children, but usually these have happened after different interracial relationships. He had never thought until he heard those words that a human, especially a chalice, could become pregnant.

“You’ll certainly be a very strict father, m’lord. At least as long as we don't have a daughter.”

He nearly fainted when he found out that his dearest was pregnant. Of course it wasn't because he didn't want to have children, since the day he had turned into a vampire he had just always thought that he would never have a family again and that he had to get used to being alone.

“Me? A strict father? Hell no! Well... Maybe a little.”

■ Vladimir was a little hesitant about announcing Eloise's pregnancy to the other inhabitants of the manor. He especially didn't want that stupid duo to bother Eloise with unnecessary comments. Well, there's a good saying, God laughs when people make plans. The news of the pregnancy spread so suddenly and quickly within the manor that he had no way of predicting that. He just wanted to announce the pregnancy to Aaron and Raph' first. At least, that was the plan until Aaron yelled like "Wait, wait, wait, is Eloise pregnant? Fuck I'm gonna be uncle! Hahaha!" shortly after arriving to the parlor. It was his fault for forgetting to take Aaron’s goddamn sense of smell and instincts into account. Geez, Beliath coming in with bewilderment, Ethan's stupid implications, Ivan's curious gaze from the door with no idea what was going on, Raphael's silent chuckles… It was totally chaos. CHAOS! DO YOU HEAR ME?!

■ During the first months of Eloise's pregnancy, Vladimir began to fear falling asleep. It was risky for a human to carry a vampire's baby, and he worried that Eloise might need help while he was asleep. It really took her time to convince him to sleep again.

■ It was the first time that Vladimir sincerely asked Ethan for help, as Eloise had to drink human blood along with human food throughout her pregnancy. And surprisingly for the first time, Ethan agreed to help him without grumbling. During her pregnancy, that maybe not so stupid duo brought blood for her with the help of the blood-taking set. It was the first and probably the last time Vladimir regretted his thoughts of kicking Ethan out of the manor.

■ Although Vladimir was genuinely afraid to drink Eloise's blood at first, he drank from her as rarely as possible throughout pregnancy.

■ The happiest moment of Vladimir during her pregnancy was when she told him that if they had a daughter, she wanted to name her after his mother. This may not mean a thing to anyone, but there were no words to describe how valuable these words were for someone like him who lived with the traces of the past and had so much regrets. That day, perhaps for the first time, he cried without fear of being seen crying as he hugged Eloise and her belly.

■ Unfortunately, Vladimir's jealous nature didn't leave him even throughout Eloise's pregnancy. Of course it was a relief that Eloise was having a good time with the others. But whenever one of them touched her belly to feel the baby's movements or held out her hand so Eloise could get up, his displeasure was written all over his face. What the heck, did that arrogant peacock wink at himself as he helped Eloise up? How dare he!

■ It was just daylight when Eloise went into labor and Vladimir was so nervous that he couldn't even remember how he had let Ethan know. His face must have turned pale at some point, for neither Beliath nor Raphael would let him go near her. All he could do was sit in the hallway with his back against the wall, listening to Eloise cry, until Aaron came to him with the most beautiful angel in the world in his arms. Vladimir's hands were shaking so much that he was afraid of hurting the baby as he picked her up. “Welcome to our world, my little lady. Welcome...”

[fanficteen]

gone (3)

carlisle cullen x reader

tw death mention; implied self-harm

“Bella’s asking for you.” “Bella can suck it,” you answered, shortly, glaring at the table. Billy sighed. “Go and talk to her.” You turned your glare on him instead. “I may not know much about witches, but I’m not blind. This is killing you.” You sighed, but got up anyway. You were more likely to get Bella to give up on you than you were to get Billy off your case. Bella’s eyes lit up when you appeared, leaning against the doorframe. “Go on, then. Tell me why the vampires are so great,” you suggested, dryly. “I’m not going running back into Carlisle’s arms like you did Edward’s. They left us. He left me. So I’m clearly not worth much to him.” “It’s not like that and you know it.” You did know it. As much as you didn’t want to admit it. But you just stared back at her until she sighed. “I don’t understand, (Y/N). All this is doing is making you both miserable. Why won’t you just hear him out?” “Because he abandoned me, they abandoned you, they abandoned the Pack to deal with a murderous rogue vampire and her newborn armies. I killed for him, Bella.” Her eyes went wide. “I cut off Victoria’s head and burned her body in the hope that they’d come back and I can’t wash that blood off my hands.” You stepped back to shut the door, but Bella caught it. “Don’t you think a relationship worth killing for is worth talking out?” “Not to him, apparently.”

You made the mistake of letting Rachel drag you out of the house to help her pick an outfit for a date with Paul. You did point out that Paul couldn’t care less what she looked like and in return she had pointed out that just because you looked like shit, she didn’t have to. You’d had no further arguments as she’d dragged you to the car. In hindsight, you should have argued your point better, because apparently you weren’t the only one who’d been dragged on a shopping trip. “It wasn’t his fault. I’m the reason we left.” Edward winced as you threw up your shields, forcing him out of your mind. “I was under the impression your father could make his own decisions,” you snarled, as Rachel made a beeline for where Alice and Rosalie were pretending to show Bella a dress, though you knew well they could hear every word. “You know, being 400 years old.” “He was just trying to support me,” Edward returned, grabbing your wrist to stop you from moving past him. You couldn’t help the gasp that slipped from your lips, Edward’s grasp immediately loosening so you could wrench your hand back, resisting the urge to cradle it to you. “Please. I know he loves you and I know you love him. You can’t just–“ “I can’t just what? Walk away? Give up on him?” You scoffed. “Please, Edward. I walked away from the empty space that used to be a relationship. You left. You all left. And for what? So that psycho would leave us alone? Yeah, great lot of good that did any of us. You don’t get to just come back like it’s all fine and dandy.” “What’s wrong with your wrist?” You didn’t answer and the other vampires’ eyes shot to you, now, giving up on whatever pretence they’d had of not listening. “Why didn’t you –“ He cut off, golden eyes flashing from your apparently unblemished wrist to your face. “You –“ “Shut up,” you threatened, lowly. “(Y/N),” Alice murmured, dropping the dress she’d been holding and taking a step towards you. “Don’t.” “What’s going on?” Rachel questioned, she and Bella watching the scene at an absolute loss. “Why are you all looking at her like that?” Rosalie just continued to stare. “(Y/N)?” “I’m sorry.” You shook your head, backing away. “I’m so sorry.”

“Where is he?” Emmett gaped at you as you materialised in front of him on the Cullens’ doorstep. “Emmett, where’s –“ Carlisle’s Mercedes rolled into the driveway behind you and you turned to him, immediately. “(Y/N)?” He was in front of you the moment the engine stopped. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” “You need to tell your kids to leave me alone, Carlisle.” Confusion flashed across his face as he glanced at Emmett, but cleared when Bella’s truck pulled up, spilling the girls and Edward out into the yard. “Did you know?” Rosalie demanded of Carlisle, making the newly arrived Jasper exchange a confused glance with the equally confused Emmett. “What?” Carlisle questioned, bewildered. “Can we rewind for a second?” Emmett requested, desperately. “What are you all talking about?” You watched a wave of calm wash over the scene, bouncing off your shields. “Why don’t we all go inside and talk about this?” Jasper suggested, as he forced his family to find their heads. You opened your mouth to refuse but were cut off by Alice suddenly grabbing your shoulder. “(Y/N), please. Let us fix this.” You narrowed your eyes, but nodded anyway. Alice had always had a soft spot in your heart, and especially after they left, when she had been the only one who had bothered to answer your frantic phone calls, for even a brief moment, before Rosalie’s voice had entered and immediately cut the call off. You wondered if she knew where you had been standing when you’d called, and decided you probably didn’t want to know the answer.

“(Y/N)?” Jasper prompted, once you were all seated in the living room. “Do you want to start? I have to admit, I think we’re all pretty surprised to see you here.” “Really? I try and spend every Friday with the people who have hurt me most in the world,” you retorted, brightly, but Jasper just looked back at you, placidly. The gentle understanding in his eyes almost vexed you more than Edward’s pleading. “I don’t understand what you want from me.” “A chance,” Rosalie murmured. “A chance?” you repeated, coldly. “Like the one you all had six months ago?” “You can’t hate us forever over one mistake!” she snapped, raising her voice. “Rose,” Emmett warned, but she was on a roll now, surging to her feet. “Everything we did, we did to protect you and Bella. You’re not the only one who suffered while we were away! We didn’t see Edward the whole time until he tried to kill himself and now the Volturi are on our backs! And you won’t even listen!” “You want to talk about what happened while you were away?” you asked, icily, looking up at her. The room lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. “First, I realise my best friends and the love of my life have left without even saying goodbye, leaving my other best friend in an essentially catatonic state. I am now entirely alone, because my home before now was with a werewolf family that didn’t want me while I was associated with vampires.” Rosalie opened her mouth, but you cut her off before she could speak. “So I throw myself into my magic and work for weeks, thinking that maybe, if Victoria was gone, you’d all come back. I fight and kill a vampire and burn her corpse. Nothing changes. I try to get in touch with you all and no one answers until I’m standing on the edge of a cliff and Alice calls, only to be immediately cut off. Charlie drags me back to my Dad’s house and I discover that my brother is only interested in one girl who hangs out with vampires.” Bella winced. “So I figure, what the hell, I might as well learn to be a proper witch, right? And then, after a grand total of six weeks of peace, who should come barging back into my life except you.” You dropped your eyes back to the floor. “And after all that, you want me to listen?” You got to your feet. “I just want to be left alone.”

“But that’s killing you,” Bella finally found her voice. Your stomach dropped. “What?!” The Cullens demanded, eyes flicking between you and her. “Then maybe it’ll stop hurting,” you answered, quietly. “(Y/N),” Alice breathed, voice shaking. You glanced over at her. “We can fix this.” “Can you?” Your eyes bored into hers, like sinking into pools of ichor. “Just give us a chance.” Once again, you gave in to her. “What did Bella mean, (Y/N)?” Edward asked, as soon as your shoulders dropped. “I don’t know how she found this out.” Something told you it was Billy. “But a witch’s soulmate bond is a piece of her soul. So a neglected one becomes, basically, a septic soul wound. It can take years, sometimes even a century or so to take full effect, but it will, eventually, kill you. Provided you’re not killed by something else first.” “So if we hadn’t come back, you would’ve died anyway?” Emmett realised, horrified. You shrugged, looking away. “Jesus, (Y/N), why didn’t you–“ “Because I didn’t want Carlisle to be with me because he thought I’d die otherwise!” you snapped, before he could even finish. “I wanted to have a soulmate who loved me, not just someone upholding a responsibility to keep me alive.” “I can do both,” Carlisle murmured. You heard him stand, felt the gust of air as he crossed the room to stand behind you. “Can you? Because that isn’t what it felt like when you disappeared without so much as a goodbye,” you asked, tiredly. You turned around and met his eyes, shining wetly despite that he couldn’t shed tears. “And I really want you to be able to do it, Carlisle, because despite recent months, I don’t think I really want to die.”

Tags

@mylovelyjoon 

@kyrah-williams

[missmonsters2]

Between the Lines || III

PAIRING: Steve Rogers & Fem!Reader (Platonic) / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Vampire AU. Life has changed drastically since the 1600s. Things are always on the move, and you’ve been very careful to not get on SHIELDs radar. Living on the down-low owning a café, you’re content to live out a quiet existence. That is until the Avengers enter your life.

[Set after the New York Invasion, in CAWS, and goes up to AoU. Canon divergent after.]

Warnings: This series will contain smut(**), poly-relationship, and dark themes.

Note: Things..are happening. Please let me know if you want to be on the taglist for this fic :)!

PART I || PART II

PART III of XX

Count: 3311

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The following week was routine once more. Natasha didn't revisit the café, which you couldn't tell if you felt relief or not. David did lecture that you had to be more careful because it was most likely that Black Widow was looking into your background. He wasn't worried she'd find anything, but one can never be too careful.

Steve stopped by the café less too, as they now hung out outside the café more regularly. You had finally given in and hired two more people to the café and promoted Sarah to the manager position, so you didn't have to spend too much time there yourself. You essentially only came in when you knew Steve was going to be in...or maybe on the off chance Natasha would come in again.

Allison's mother was finally discharged from the hospital, but with all the missed time from work, you still found yourself looking after the young girl while her mother picked up extra shifts—not that you minded.

It was currently the weekend, and you had planned to take Allison to the park for a picnic and some games. You had asked Steve to tag along if he wasn't busy, but it turns out that he did have work that day. He seemed really crushed that he wasn't going to be able to go, but you had assured him it would be fine, and they could get together another time.

It was strange. They weren't dating or anything, definitely just friends. But the last time they had gone out together with Allison, the number of strangers who commented they looked like a beautiful family made you panic a bit, especially with the wistful look on Steve's face. It seemed like he was thinking about other things as people made those comments, though, not necessarily wistful to have a family with you.

And you knew—about this lost love, about Peggy Carter.   

The poor man seemed unable to move on while wanting to, but then feeling guilty about it. Since you were supposed to pretend not to know anything, it wasn't like you could talk to him about it. So, they were stuck in this weird limbo.

"Lainey, can we please get peaches?"   

You immediately brought your attention back to Allison, who you had in your shopping cart with multiple things strewn in for their picnic date.    

You grinned at the kid, "Alright, put the puppy face away, you're killing me here. We can definitely get some peaches."   

As the two of you stood in front of the peaches, you meticulously picked out peaches as Allison animatedly recalled a story.   

"Really? How interesting," you hummed to Allison.   

"Quite a cute one you've got there."   

The gruff voice brought your attention away from the peach. You looked up to see a man in his late 30s standing next to your cart with a basket.    

"Thanks," you said politely but curt.   

"My name's Glenn. I just wanted to say hi," He gave you a flirty grin and held out his hand.    

"Hi," you shook his hand politely as he stared at your gloved hands.   

"Cold?" He asked.   

"Something like that," you said with a wry grin.   

"Anyways," you said with an eyebrow raised at the stranger, "We've got to head off now, nice to meet you."   

Just as you were turning away with the cart, the man grabbed you by the arm to stop you.   

"Wait!"    

You clenched her jaw, turning back to him, eyes darkening, and just as you were about to speak a command, someone grabbed his arm and gripped it tightly enough to make the man let go. You blinked, your eyes clearing as you looked over to see Natasha standing there, her jaw set in a tight line and eyes entirely calm.   

"I think you should leave now," her voice was low, and she gripped the man's arms tightly enough for him to wince before she let go with a fling.    

The man looked like he wanted to say something, but there must've been warning bells in his head when he looked at Natasha, so he grumbled and turned to leave.   

Natasha turned her attention back over to you, eyeing the kid from the side. Steve definitely did not mention that you had a kid.   

"Natalie! What a surprise. Thanks for that, really," you said sincerely, a happy grin on your face.   

"No worries," Natasha shook her head with a wave of her hand.   

"You're not working today?" You asked curiously. It was only about one in the afternoon.   

Natasha grinned. "Got off early today," she said simply.   

"Lainey...peach..." Allison whined slightly, her lips jutting out in a pout. You turned over with a slight chuckle and roll of your eyes.   

"Alright, alright, I've got the treasure in tow, we can go." You turned back to Natasha, biting your lip slightly. It was a long shot, but why not. Sometimes it was better to keep people like Natasha close to ward off suspicion.   

"Listen, I don't know if you're busy today. We're about to head to Central Park for a picnic. Steve couldn't make it, but would you...would you like to join us?"   

It was a lot to ask someone who you've spoken to just once, even though it was a lengthy time. Natasha considered it for a moment with a tilt her head.��   

"I'd love to," she said after a moment. If the opportunity to get to know the mysterious girl presented itself, why not?   

You smiled, "Great! We'll meet you there. Bring anything you'd like, but I do have a lot of food and drinks."   

With that, you went separate ways before shortly meeting up at the park again. You made small talk as you put out a picnic blanket and set everything down. Natasha helped carry some things, and as they sat down, Allison already pulling the kite that you packed.   

"Oh, hold on, I'm just going to get her set up," you said, walking off with the bouncing child.   

Natasha watched from a distance, arms crossed as she sat with her legs pressed together and on her side.   

She thought about calling Steve to see what the deal was with the kid but decided against it since she didn't want to end up answering the hundreds of questions the guy would have about seeing you. Allison didn't quite look like she was yours as the two of you shared different hair and eye colors.  

Maybe a niece?   

Before she knew it, you were back and taking a seat with a small huff.    

"Tired?" Natasha asked with a grin.   

You gave her a wry grin back, "Think I'd be used to that bundle of energy now, but she definitely keeps me on my toes."   

"Is she yours?" Natasha asked with a tilt of her head.   

You shook your head, feeling like a broken record with how much you had to repeat things.

"Oh, no. She's my neighbor's kid. She's a single mom and just got out of the hospital. They don't have any other family in the city, so I offered to watch her. Now, her mom is picking up some extra shifts to make up for what she's missed, so I watch her when needed."   

Natasha gave a small gentle smile. "You have a lot of free time?"   

You shrugged, "Well, I did end up hiring more people and promoted my one employee to be a manager. So, yeah, I guess I do have more free time now."   

Natasha hummed. "I guess your side book rentals does make a good profit after a certain point."   

You laughed, "Sure does! I'm like a blockbuster."   

"You do know they went out of business, right?" Natasha said with a raise of her eyebrow and a smirk.   

"I'll become Netflix then," you replied right back without missing a beat. It caused Natasha to chuckle. With that, you pulled out a thermos and some paper cups.   

"Coffee?" You asked, and Natasha nodded. You handed the redhead a cup, and the aroma already made Natasha feel warm.    

"Mmm," Natasha purred at the taste. "Seriously, there's got to be a secret ingredient in this coffee. I refuse to believe you can just make it this good."   

You jokingly looked affronted. "Well, suck on it. I do just make it that good."   

You pulled out the peaches that you bought, wiping them clean with a wet paper towel, and began to cut it with a knife. Natasha watched, again, with the black gloves but also that it was clear that you were experienced with holding a knife as you cut it with ease and quickly. You took out the pit and shaved off peach skin into a plastic bag and put the sliced peaches in a container.   

"Allison!" You called out. The little girl looked over and beamed with pure happiness as she trotted over for the fruit.   

"Thanks, Lainey!" Allison made a move to grab a slice, but you grabbed the girl's hand gently.   

"Hold it there, my little criminal. The last thing we need is sticky fingers. Here, use a fork."   

Allison grinned as she grabbed the utensil with the fruit already on it and took a bite. She eyed Natasha, and the redhead smiled at her.   

"Are you friends with Steve?" Allison asked, remembering that you told Natasha that Steve couldn't make it.   

Natasha looked taken aback slightly before smiling at the kid. "Yeah, we're friends."   

Allison simply nodded but didn't ask any more questions, which Natasha found a little strange.   

"Okay," she said simply. Maybe the kid was assessing her?   

"Do you like peaches?" Allison asked, and Natasha blinked. She should be more used to this, with Clint having kids and all.   

"Yeah," Natasha replied with ease. "They're delicious."   

Allison grinned, and Natasha felt like she passed some sort of test.    

"Great!" Allison exclaimed, passing over her container with some peaches left. "You can have some of my peaches. I'm going to go play now. If you play with me later, I'll tell you some funny stories about Lainey."   

You looked in disbelief as you looked at the child, "Don't you dare, Allie."    

Allison stood up, grabbing the frisbee, spotting some other children in the field. She laughed, looking at Natasha once more and winked as she ran off.   

Natasha had to put her hand over her mouth as she tried to control her laughter. You glared playfully at the redhead.   

"I can't believe I was just used as leverage for your participation," you muttered.   

"Why? You got some really embarrassing stories?" Natasha smirked.    

You merely pursed your lips together and pretended to zip your lips, and Natasha found herself relaxing a little more. She really should use this opportunity to find out more about you, but she found that it was just natural to be the moment with you.   

But as you handed her a cut sandwich that had a fried cutlet in it with a mystery sauce, Natasha found it was the time to ask about the gloves.   

"Are you a germaphobe? Or perpetually cold?" Natasha found that the weather itself was warm, no need for gloves. She knew some people with arthritis would wear gloves, but the type that you wore didn't seem like it was for warmth.   

"Kind of a germaphobe," You answered, without missing a beat. You took a bite of the sandwich, leaning a little back.   

"Nothing extreme, but working at the café and touching money has gotten me sick a couple times. I don't like touching things directly if I can help it."    

Natasha nodded, enjoying the sandwich. She didn't question it too much when there were people like Tony Stark out there with weird quirks himself.   

"So, I guess since you know I own the café, what do you do?"   

"I'm a personal assistant for Stark Industries," Natasha answered, eyeing your reaction. You didn't seem to react much.   

"Oh, cool. Must keep you busy if you work for Tony."   

"You know Tony Stark?" Natasha asked with an eyebrow raised, and you gave her a look.   

"Who doesn't know Tony Stark? Even I, a hermit, would know."   

Natasha smiled, but she felt it. There was something off about you. Knowing Tony Stark meant knowing about him being an Avenger. So, you had to know about other members who were publicly known. Steve had been doing so many interviews.   

But Steve wouldn't appreciate her asking outright.   

Even if she wanted to, Allison had come back from playing frisbee. You gave the girl a hand wipe and handed her a sandwich and juice that was in a bottle to avoid spilling.   

"Alright, kid. We got enough time for one more game, and we're gonna head out. Your mom said she's going to be home for dinner. Choose wisely."    

Allison pursed her lips, gripping her bottle before she seemed to come to a decision.   

"Jenga! I'm going to win this time."    

You smirked, "alright."   

Allison immediately moved over to Natasha. "Can we team up? Lainey never loses in this game!"   

Natasha blinked, looking over to you, who nodded. The redhead looked back to the kid and smiled. "Alright, we'll secure victory this time."   

"In your dreams! Allie will spill my dirty secrets, so there will be no mercy."   

With the game set up, they began. You were pretty good, but Natasha was just as good. The redhead noticed that you had incredibly steady hands. As you took pieces out, your hand was impossibly still.    

Eventually, they had gotten to where the stack was pretty unsteady, and a lot of the levels had only the middle pieces, including the bottom. It was coming down to that even trying to take any side pieces would result in the stack collapsing. As it was Natasha's turn, she eyed the stack, calculating her best bet. It would have to be the bottom piece. She steadied her hand as she latched onto the piece, and with precision and quickness, she yanked out the piece, the stack moving down perfectly without even swaying.    

Allison cheered, and Natasha smirked at you. You didn't even look phased. You eyed the stack, and just like Natasha, it would be foolish to try to grab a side piece. 

This was it.    

Natasha watched in disbelief as she saw you eyeing a middle piece that was literally in the middle level of the stack with no side pieces.   

No, you wouldn't.   

Would you?  

There was no way you could grab that without having the stack fall over.   

You lifted your gloved hand and put your fingers in a flicking motion, and with just the right amount of force and speed, you flicked the piece out, and it flew right into Natasha. The stack lowered another level and barely swayed as it settled.   

You looked at Natasha smugly.   

"ты серьезно," Natasha muttered are you serious in Russian and she swore, the slight twitch in your lip made Natasha believe that you knew what she said, but as quick as she saw it, it was gone.   

"Ugh," Allison groaned, taking out a piece, making the entire stack collapse. "I'll never beat you, Lainey."   

You laughed as you collected the pieces to put away. "Practice, sweetpea. You can challenge me in the next lifetime."   

You cackled as Allison playfully threw a piece at you in retaliation.    

"Don't worry, we'll get her next time," Natasha said to comfort the young girl who leaned against her and sighed.   

"There's a next time?" You asked playfully, and Natasha tilted her head.   

"Should there be?" The redhead asked back cryptically.   

You licked your bottom lip slightly, the action drawing Natasha's attention to it.   

"Yeah," You said finally. "We're friends, right?"   

Natasha nodded. "Yeah, friends."   

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It was a few days again before you saw Natasha at the café. She seemed to stop by more often now to pick up coffee but didn't have the time like Steve did to sit around and chat with you.   

It was fine by you, it seemed like Natasha did find you odd, but not to the point where she was investigating you.   

It was becoming a problem, though. You liked Natasha and Steve, liked spending time with them. But the more you did, the more you were putting yourself at risk, putting David at risk.    

You figured you would have to leave soon. Maybe tell them you had a family member in another country that was ill, and you needed to take care of them. Then, you would die in a fiery car crash with nothing to identify you but your dental records and disappear and start over with a new identity.   

It was another month that passed that neither Steve or Natasha showed up, and it worried you.   

Steve used to stop by 3-4 times a week and Natasha at least 3 times when she was free. You were aware that sometimes they would have missions, but they were always back within days, the latest a week.    

That night, you called David.   

"What's up? Great timing, I have some more news about The Winter Soldier and the descendants." You got an immediate reply.    

"Great, brief me on that later. I need you to look up something else. Something's wrong. I haven't seen Steve or Natasha in over a month. Can you find anything?"   

You could hear something like "good riddance" being mumbled, but you chose to ignore it.   

"Oh shit," David finally said.   

"What? What's wrong?"   

"Steve has been listed as a fugitive. It looks like SHIELD is compromised by HYDRA. Black Widow is most likely helping him, and Nick Fury is dead." 

It was quiet on the other line for a bit, you could hear him clicking on his keyboard.   

You were shocked, and worry overcame you. Steve was a fugitive?    

"Ah shit, this was what I wanted to tell you. The Winter Soldier is in America, caught him on a couple street cameras. He killed Nick Fury."   

"Is the man actually dead?" Based on your past experience, there was no way the man would die that easily.   

"I'll have to look more into that and get back to you. I don't know. There's a lot of shady shit going on within SHIELD. It doesn't look good right now for them."   

"Where are they? Can you find them?"   

"Hold on, let me find any live feed from street cameras." 

The minutes passed by agonizingly as you heard typing on the keyboard and the mouse clicking.

"Okay, I've got visuals. I'll send the details to your phone. What are you going to do?" 

You were already changing and packing anything you might need.

"Well, I know The Winter Soldier doesn't play around. I can't just let them deal with whatever's happening. I need you to send more intel to my cell, okay?"

David was silent. "You know this means you're exposing yourself, don't you?"   

You sighed. "Yes, but...I don't know...I care about them enough."

David let out a huge frustrated sigh. "Fuck sake's, fine. I'll send you some details. You better hope our asses don't get imprisoned."

"Well, if Fury is really dead, we might not have to worry about that too much. Worst case scenario, we can work for Stark."   

"Oh, so we just really exposing our asses to everyone now."

"Well, I highly doubt we'll be able to keep our existence a secret to just two Avengers."   

"I hate you."   

You let out a chuckle as David hung up. You sent a text to Allison's mother that you would be out of town indefinitely handling some personal business, but you left some money and a babysitter's number in Allison's drawer when you were over the other day in case of emergencies.   

Grabbing your car keys, you left.   

Somehow, you knew you were going to change everything by doing this, but maybe that wouldn't be the end of the world.  

PART IV

[braindeacl]

Splinter | Solomon & Eilidh

SETTING: The woods. TIMING: Current, early morning. PARTIES: @shroomsbysolomon & @braindeacl SUMMARY: Eilidh means to put an end to Solomon’s trail of death, permanently, but ideologies get in the way.  WARNINGS: Drug use

Anger had driven him from his home. Rage had fueled the destruction he’d left in his wake all those miles from here. But it was fear that brought him back; heavy in his gait and thick in his throat. It was fear that coaxed him toward the coast, that sent sharp aches through his body and violent shivers up his spine. He’d been gone too long. What might have happened in his absence? No, no, he couldn’t rationalize it that way, he—

How was he to reconcile this?

It had taken several centuries to forget the first time, and he wasn’t sure how many more centuries he had to spare.

Lumbering through familiar forests, a sense of calm began to worm its way into his anxious mind. Perhaps he had strayed too far—this was his home, after all. His roots were here, in more ways than one. His thoughts drifted to soft lips, the snarling curl of a scar amidst a warm smile… sunlight streaming in through the window, all golden and peaceful.  For a moment, blissful memory overtook the hate that had inspired his trip out west, cleansing his conscience of all the horrible things he’d done to those people—

As with all things, it was not meant to last. A sound snapped Solomon from his reverie, golden eyes darting to his left, where they fell upon a most peculiar figure in the distance. A beat of silence passed between them: the human-shaped silhouette, half hidden by foliage, stood small before the towering fae, all bark and thorns and lichen and antlers. 

An uncharacteristic vocalization bloomed in the leshy’s throat, deep and growling. He recognized this one. He’d seen them out in his woods before, coming upon the bodies of the unfortunate souls he’d turned into hedge hounds… as well as the ones that the vines had refused to make hosts out of. Even after the first failed attempt, Solomon had persisted, not having any better explanation for his own existence and hoping that perhaps one would work out.

“What do you want?” he snarled, his ancient, unnatural voice pouring forth from the skull that adorned his head. 

It started as an attempt to find answers. Searching for potential leads on the gateways that kept sprouting about White Crest. But the trail led nowhere. Might as well have fun heading back. Eilidh took to the forests, exploring what they had to offer. When Eilidh came upon the first body, she was a mixture of disturbed and intrigued. Just as the corpse was a mixture of flesh and plant. It had been hard to distinguish at first, the protruding vines blending in with the surrounding vegetation. But something felt off. On closer inspection, she noted the way the vines curled and twisted into a familiar shape. A human shape. Unlike most of the hedges she’d see in town, which were forced into poses by the cut of a blade, what lay before lacked any sort of obvious manipulation. This was simply how it grew to be. Out in the middle of the woods. Interesting. Further inspection confirmed a suspicion. Someone had been snipped of their true form, forced by powerful magic into this construction. Part of her wondered if this had been the fate of all the hedges she had seen moving about town. But unlike those, this was still. More plant than creature. Is this how all the hedges will end? One side winning out? 

What started as a fascinating oddity became a repeated occurrence. Again and again. Sometimes it was like the forest floor was made of those bodies, for they looked one and the same. In perfect tandem. The harmony was almost beautiful. But the amount was becoming concerning. Whoever was the cause clearly had no plans on slowing down. How long until the forest was only corpses? She began to take the inspection seriously. Time was taken to observe the area, face obscured so she may not be observed as well. A plan began to formulate. She suspected fae, perhaps a nymph. An angry one. Her iron dagger was close at hand. 

Over time, she noticed a pattern. Realization brought forth a path in her mind; a path that hopefully led her to the source. Following that trail of death, it brought her to the being before her. Massive in form. Something powerful. Maybe even ancient. She had seen such a sight before, lingering near the bodies, but for her was from a safe distance. Only a vague idea of what she would face. That luxury was lost as the being placed their sights on her, and she was able to fully behold what she had gotten herself into. Her hand immediately went to grab at the syringe of Bliss nestled near her chest. No more close calls, it was time to do this right. James was saying something, probably an attempt to stop her. She couldn’t hear. Didn’t want to hear. Fuck the consequences. Temptation gnawed at her hands and throat as she gripped the needle. The cravings willed it.  

She stabbed it into her neck.

Only enough for one hit remained. Her lucky charm. Pressing down, the contents filled her, worming its way through her body. Too soon to fully take over, she waited. Staring. Something sent a shiver down her spine as she fully studied her target. Ancient knowledge banged in her head, wanting to be realized. Details previously lost came into focus: head replaced with skull, towering like a tree, horns outstretched like branches. Horns like branches. Horns. Familiarity caused her to gasp. This didn’t seem right; part of her was skeptical. But before that side could win, the other part willed her to proclaim, voice in awe, “Adharcach aon… Carson a tha thu…” 

Staring the stranger down, Solomon could tell by the tone of her voice that she was overwhelmed by his appearance—not an uncommon reaction, truth be told, but something was different about it, this time. Something that reminded him of the way the humans used to react to seeing him many hundreds of years ago… shortly before they would begin to treat him like one of their gods. 

He didn’t know the language that she spoke, but it sounded old, like the one he’d been taught growing up. Taking a step toward her, the leshy growled out a warning, though it was in the tongue of long-dead vikings. “Get out of my forest,” he commanded, “and do not return.” Not caring if she understood the language, he took another threatening step toward her. His long digits splayed out in a way that made them seem ready to attack, antlers angling down toward her. 

“You are not welcome here,” he added in English, just for good measure. 

Eilidh’s thoughts were still swimming in a pool of questions. Why had The Horned One taken on this form? Should she offer him something? Was this even real? An illusion? Did she get hit with something again and was seeing things? The being that stood before her was exactly as she had imagined him all these years, these centuries. The Horned God. She’d never thought she’d see him like this. Usually he could only be felt—in the leaves, the bark, the grass below—his presence permeating everywhere, everything. Her body was electrified at the sight. 

She did not understand him. And he did not seem to understand her, which casted a heavy shadow of doubt above them all. But the way he spoke brought upon a memory she had thought was long lost. Momentarily transported back centuries ago, she recalled a man. A vampire. His voice carried the same rhythm, the same flow and pitch. The same forgotten song. Even then, in the encounter so long ago, it was understood what he spoke was old and long gone. How much older it has grown since. Whoever stood before her was very ancient, or was very good at pretending to be. 

His image, who he appeared to be, was still causing confliction, contradictions, in her mind. Awe? Confusion? Anger? She wasn’t even sure whether to move, leave, or remain frozen. But in her pause, the drug was able to finally make its nest. It stole all those questions. Quieted her mind for a moment. Until the anger, no longer having competitors, was able to move to the forefront. Her body felt electrified for a different reason. Power.

Glamour activated, it was like her form suddenly struggled to retain its shape. It shifted and lurched this way and that. Fighting to be free from this humanoid container. Nothing about her looked the same for long. “ToUGh shIt.” Even her voice fought against her. “I’vE seeN wHat you’VE doNe, FUcker.” Her iron dagger was drawn, preparing for an attack. Fast clicking emanated from her. Teeth chattering. Too fast to be human. Then she was on the move. Not directly at the other being, but in the general vicinity. Here, then there, back again. Maneuvering through the trees as if she had ran through the area many times. 

That spark of anger ignited, and it was fueled by something Solomon did not fully comprehend. There was a voice in his head that demanded sacrifice, that demanded he protect it, no matter the cost. He was compelled by something unseen, a phantom that haunted him—draped over him like a blanket made of shadow. It was warm, though, that wispy embrace… inviting. Solomon was beginning to lose himself in it. The heat bloomed and rose in his chest, the flame licked higher and burned brighter until it was white-hot, blinding him to reality.

All he knew was that he had to defend. 

Golden orbs tucked away in black pits struggled to keep up with the rapid, erratic movements of his enemy, his large head jerking this way and that as he took a wary step back.

“I did what had to be done!” he bellowed, heart racing as she drew near. With a furious stomp, the leshy dug his trunk-like feet into the earth as roots erupted from them, racing through the soil in all directions, trying to create a protective circle around him. They lashed out of the ground wherever the stranger flicked into existence, reaching with the intent to strangle, but never quite quick enough. The glint of metal in his attacker’s hand sent a shiver of fear up his spine: he might have had very little understanding of what he was, but as a fae, he had discovered at a young age that iron was something he did not want to be injured with.

“This does not concern you!” the leshy tried again, focusing his attempts to get a handle on her to hold her still.

As Eilidh’s feet struck down, the ground below awoke. Roots shot out, cracking the soil, like nightcrawlers returning from a winter’s nap—wriggling, writhing, grasping—with only one goal. Stop her. But they only touched her shadow. Their attempts grew more powerful, more desperate, the closer she came to where the being stood, hidden behind a barricade. Coward. The sight alone would’ve culled any lingering wonder as to who the being was. This was no god. This could be killed.

This could be a meal.

Her teeth snapped in anticipation. Hard click of canines that wanted to bury into the other’s head. The thought was distracting enough to allow a root to knock on her heel. Almost enough to lose balance. Almost. Onward it went, the eternal game of cat and mouse—but who was which? In the repetition of actions, her mind wandered to the previous words. What had to be done. When humans uttered that phrase, a weak attempt at justification, it made her want to rip their throats. And they ironically would want to do the same to those who simply did what had to be done in order to survive, gore and all. Was the latter true in this case? Ever the curious soul, even with a tampered mind, she barked out. “FeEl FRee to eXplAIn yoUrseLf bEforeee I eAT yOu.” The chase continued, continued, continued; her energy seemingly never ending, the roots seemingly ever growing. Her patience, however, had a limit. Erratic feet found a singular goal, and she grew closer. When the roots became frantic, instead of retreating, allowing the stalemate to carry on, she pressed onward. Switching to the defense, her blade was in motion, aiming a slash at any root that dared to come near. 

That rage was returning as Solomon failed again and again to catch her, to stop her—it was burning white hot in his skull, bleeding out to his chest and stomach, smothering him. He felt something catch, but just as quickly as it had made contact, it was gone. The leshy let out an infuriated wail that made the branches of the trees around them shiver in response, and doubled down on his efforts. Only now… now something was hurting him. Cutting into his roots, burning like the anger that was making him lightheaded. 

Fear escalated to panic, threatening to overtake him until finally—there! Got her.

“The humans,” he moaned, the root that had managed to catch his attacker’s foot snaking around her ankle and working up her leg, “they hurt us. They come into my woods and cut them down—” The barrier fell away as Solomon emerged to face whoever this person was, his lithe body trembling with emotion. “—they kill the creatures I call my family, they burn our home to the ground!” One root had become many, each grasping at her and trying to hold her in place, recoiling in pain with each slash of her weapon. And yet Solomon still lamented, the anguish laced in his tone only fueled by her attempts to break free. “I must take back what they have claimed, I must show them—listen!—I must show them that they are not the center of all creation! Can you not understand that?” 

Eilidh continued to slash—the resulting wails only fueling her frenzy. But it was her against an army; she could only hold them off for so long. The distinction between ground and root was lost. All below writhed: reaching, reaching, reaching. She would not back down. Until something forced her to. Attention could only be divided so many ways; a hand can only be in so many places. One of the roots darted out from such a place. Ensnared its prey. To the ground, she fell.

Is he… monologuing? She did technically ask for this. Nevertheless, she preoccupied herself with repeatedly stabbing the root snaked around her leg. More quickly followed. One replaced the battered root that had been encircling her shin. Others gripped her attacking arms, trying to slow her movements into less offensive blows. She bit into the barked flesh, ripping off pieces with her canines. Their hold diminished until her hand was free to send another flurry of stab, stab, stab, stab. Discarded bark littered the forest floor, revealing wooden innards. Weakened by her ambush, or discouraged by her hostility, the roots peeled away by the will of her hands. Freedom at last. She rolled, and when feet struck ground, she returned to a sprint. Intent on continuing the chase, waiting for the next opportunity to arise.

But with her predicament solved, his words started worming into her brain. Just as the roots had done to her body. Encircling. Ensnaring. Contorting her to a new position, a new viewpoint. What he said struck a chord with her. It did make sense. If Bliss had been stripped from within, she might have even felt sympathy. Or she might have discarded his words as bullshit. She wasn’t sure. The drug wiggled its way through her mind all the same, dancing with his words. James saw the look on her face; tried to remind her about something. Something she couldn’t bring herself to care about now. “Ya gOt A poINt.” She readily admitted, musing out loud. Sprint turned into a brisk jog as her legs lost some of their fire. “So tHOse bODiees ouT thErE. THat’s tHeem?” 

Seeing her break free, Solomon fell into retreat. She was by far the toughest thing he’d encountered in quite some time, and he had apparently grown weak with such easy domination of his foes. Roots slithered back toward him, reforming into his body as he took a few steps back, waiting to see if she would come running at him again.

She did, and he continued to move back, lashing out again and again with the extensions of himself, paralytic thorns whizzing through the air as he tried to put her down a second time.

It wasn’t until he noticed the change in her body language and how her pace had slowed that he too allowed a moment of respite, grasping at a tree trunk as he passed it by, worn down from the constant effort of defending himself. 

“Some of them,” he answered with a growl, pushing off of the tree to keep moving away from her, though it was certainly less energetic at this point. “Others are retaliation… for the centuries of destruction.” The wounds she had left him with were sapping his strength, and after a few more steps, the leshy dropped to one knee and leaned forward, a shudder running down his spine. “Please,” he groaned, “please, don’t… I have to care for this place.”

The tides were turning in Eilidh’s favor, and the cravings enjoyed that very much. Seeing him relent under the weight of his injuries, his actions. The excitement tingled down her arm, her fingers, shaking against the handle of her blade. But she did have standards. It seemed his soul was not as ripe for the picking as she hoped. Virtue could be found in his actions, at least from her type of sensibilities. Disappointing. She had been so close to finishing. He was practically on his knees, waiting to be eaten! She could still continue, just for sustenance instead of satisfying that side of her nature. But as he brought up the need to protect, to provide for the surrounding habitat, Eilidh remembered his own nature. Killing him would remove this forest its guardian. 

She looked to James, her source of moral direction when in this state. He was cautiously eyeing the being, anger clear on his face, but the wink of sympathy in his eyes betrayed him. She recognized it easily, an expression he wore frequently. Always such a gentle soul. But his fleeting moment of empathy sealed the being’s fate. If Eilidh had watched longer, the two would have locked eyes. He would have motioned for her to carry on, frustration and anger and sadness at the other’s cruelty urging his damning hands. He would have sentenced his death. But instead, Eilidh looked away. Considered his importance to the flow of this environment. Considered further still the unreadiness of his soul. Perhaps in another time, another place, it would become much riper. Richer. Delicious. 

“KeEP tHaat shIt ConTained to thOSe wHo HUrt tHiis PLace, or I’lL fiiiND yoU AGain.” Though some of her wished he would go against her words. Ripen his soul. Give her something to truly feast on. With that she started to leave. Footfalls as silent as James’ protest might as well have been, falling on deaf ears. 

[kieraswriting]

Coffin Chapter Four

Masterpost

None of the humans came downstairs that evening. Virgil didn’t mind too much. Being stuck in a cell sucked, but it was infinitely better than before. And he was still feeling full. His wrists and ankles were hardly hurting anymore, and the burn on his palm was entirely gone. And he still had the fidget cube to fiddle with. He’d never been one to shun time alone.

Early the next evening, six thirty, if the clock on the wall was to be trusted, Patton came down into the basement.

“Hey, Virgil.”

Virgil raised a hand in greeting.

“Logan and I are going out for a while. Do you want to come with us?”

Virgil blinked. He had not expected that. Even with the argument yesterday, he never would have thought…

“What about Roman?”

Patton seemed to misunderstand his question. “Oh, don’t worry, we aren’t leaving him behind. He’s at school. His classes run late on Wednesdays.”

Truthfully, Virgil did want to go. As much better as the cell was than a coffin, it was still pretty boring. He did have one concern left, though. “Do I still have to wear this outside?” He raised a hand to the muzzle.

“Oh… I didn’t think about that. Let me talk with Logan first, and I’ll let you know.” Patton raced back upstairs.

Virgil could have heard them, if he wanted, but he purposely didn’t listen. If the answer was unpleasant he didn’t want to have to hear it twice.

Shortly after, though, Logan and Patton both came down.

“We have determined that you may accompany us, and may do so without the muzzle. But we want you to first promise that you will follow any and all instructions from either of us.” Logan said.

Virgil nodded. He waited for Patton to open the door and take the muzzle off before he stood up.

And then, they went… on a walk?

It was awkward to say the least. Virgil was still skittish around them, since he didn’t know how far they would take anything. He stuck close to them, enjoying the night air as much as he could past the stale silence. They seemed just as awkward around him as he was around them.

It seemed especially odd that they weren’t intending to do anything.

It went smoothly, if awkwardly, until Virgil managed to catch someone’s eye. He hadn’t meant to. He’d been mostly looking down and across the street. But he just happened to make eye contact with someone else on the other side. And he knew immediately, and knew that the other knew as well, that they were both vampires.

Virgil was behind the two humans, and they couldn’t see his face. He silently bared his teeth at the other, a warning to stay away. The other didn’t listen, or didn’t care, and crossed the street. She was now far too close for comfort, and kept advancing. Virgil turned to face her and hissed.

“Virgil, what—?”

“Virgil!”

The vampire ran at Patton, and Virgil moved in between. He caught her wrist and shoved back with his other hand at her shoulder. She shifted to trying to bite him.

“You don’t need two!” She hissed.

Virgil grappled awkwardly. He was not trained in any kind of fighting, and wasn’t as strong as she was. But he managed to keep her off of Patton.

Suddenly there was a deafening bang. The vampire fell limp, old, brownish blood languidly trickling from a hole in her temple.

Virgil looked up to see Logan holding a still smoking gun. He couldn’t get any air. He couldn’t breathe. He let go of the vampire, tripping and falling as he backed away. His throat was thick and heavy, and his ears still rang from the gunshot.

No.

It was the same all over again. “Y-you killed her.”

Virgil couldn’t look at Logan. Someone touched his shoulder and he flinched away violently.

He was on the ground. His sire was next to him, dead. They were going to hurt him next. They wouldn’t even kill him and let him go with her.

“No. No. Nonono please…”

Virgil slammed his eyes shut. He couldn’t bear to look.

But all that greeted him was the endless darkness. Darkness, pain, and hunger. It went on forever.

He still couldn’t breathe. It hurt.

Please let him out. Please.

•^*^••

Patton was too overwhelmed. Virgil wasn’t responding to either of them. He was on the ground and he wasn’t breathing properly.

“Patton.” Logan said, his voice cutting through the haze clearly. “Call us a ride. Someone trustworthy.”

“Yeah.” Patton dialed the number. He didn’t know why he was shaking, but he just wanted it to be over. Get Virgil back to their house.

•^*^••

No one knew when someone might turn out to be a vampire. But that was why there were hunters. Didn’t make it any less terrifying.

In fact, for some, it made it even more scary.

Virgil was one of these.

His dad was a vampire. He’d found that out the hard way when he was six. Between him and his mother, there was plenty enough blood, so his dad had never needed to go out and feed off of other humans. His dad wasn’t violent like other vampires he heard about on the news. But— maybe not everything was the way it was supposed to be. Virgil honestly didn’t know. It felt off, but he was forbidden from telling anyone.

His mom sometimes told him to find a friend to sleep over with, and while he certainly didn’t mind, it seemed like the other kids had a much harder time going to sleepovers. It was fine, though, until middle school, when his friends seemed to fade away.

The kids at school started picking on him, pushing him around on days he was weak from loss of blood. Mocking him for being overly pale. Telling the teachers he was a vampire. Constantly shoving various items made of silver in his face.

One day, when he came home, his mom pushed a full backpack into his arms and took his other one.

“Tonight’s a sleepover night, Virge. There’s a snack in the bag, and a change of clothes, and your toothbrush. But you need to go quick, Dad’s coming home early today.”

“Mom, what happens when Dad gets home? Why can’t I stay?”

“Shh, honey, I love you so much, but that one’s a secret, ok? Go have a good time.” She pulled him into a warm hug and kissed his forehead.

Was he imagining it, or was she trembling?

Virgil left the house and walked down the street. He hadn’t gotten to tell her. His last real friend had moved away. He’d gotten the letter at school. He’d wanted to say goodbye in person, but they were moving away very quickly, or something.

Virgil found himself at a playground. There were a few parents with very little kids. He sat on the bench and opened the backpack to get the snack.

Virgil sat on the bench until after the sun set. He wasn’t sure if he should try knocking on the houses of his old friends. Maybe they’d let him in anyway? It was getting cold out here, even through his jacket.

“Good evening,” said a feminine voice.

Virgil turned to look. She was very tall, and wearing a long dress. Even in the dark, he could see the reddish glint in her eyes.

“Good evening. Are you— I’ll give you my blood if you make sure it doesn’t hurt.”

The woman stepped closer, movement fluid and fast. “What makes you think I want your blood?”

“Your eyes.”

She laughed quietly. “Not many humans recognize bloodlust this early.”

Virgil didn’t answer. There didn’t seem to be a good answer to something like that. He felt oddly calm, more so than he would usually. Perhaps she had some kind of power to make people calm.

“Why are you out here all alone at night?” She asked.

“My mom told me to have a sleepover with friends, but I don’t have any friends. And I can’t stay home because dad’s coming home early, and I’m kinda scared because he’s—“ Virgil slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t be concerned, I tend to have this effect on people. It comes with age and beauty.”

And oddly enough, Virgil wasn’t concerned, though a part of him said that he should be.

“What were you saying about your dad?��� The woman continued.

Virgil kept his hand over his mouth and shook his head.

“That’s fine. You don’t have to tell me. But come, I’ll give you a safer place to sleep than a park bench.”

She held out a hand, and even though he was too old for holding hands, Virgil slipped his hand into hers.

She led him across town and into a house. The house was cold. Not colder than outside, but not warm like most houses. All the lights were turned off, and she didn’t bother turning them on as she led him into a room.

The room had a nightlight, and one bed. The walls were painted a dark emerald green, and it was decorated to look like something elves would have made in the middle of a forest.

“This is my guest bedroom,” she said. “There are extra blankets under the bed if you get cold. You’re welcome to sleep here tonight.”

Virgil set down his backpack. “Thank you. But, aren’t you going to take my blood?”

He looked up at her, and her eyes flashed a brighter red. “No. I’m not. For tonight you are a guest.”

She left, shutting the door softly. Virgil changed into his pajamas and climbed into the bed. It was the softest bed he’d ever slept in. As he fell asleep, he began to worry that something was wrong. But he was asleep before his worries could return.

The next morning the woman drove him back to the park, and he walked home from there.

He was almost home when he realized just how awfully that could have gone. What had he been thinking?! Just walking off with a stranger? Going into their house?! He knew she was a vampire, and he still asked her if she was going to take his blood!? That could have been a death sentence! He still didn’t even know her name! What on earth had he been thinking!?

•^*^••

Virgil was fourteen when his mom died. It was a mystery to the police, but Virgil had strong suspicions.

The woman, who still refused to give Virgil a name, had become his friend, and her house was always open to him. The invitation was used more often once he found out why his mom had sent him away sometimes.

She had other vampires that stayed at her house sometimes, but it was always plain to them that Virgil was off limits. They didn’t like him, but he had no reason to like them either.

•^*^••

Virgil still didn’t know what happened to his dad when he got like this. Only that it was incredibly dangerous.

He didn’t leave in time.

Trying to run away only resulted in him laying face up in the backyard. He couldn’t move. Everything hurt, and he felt so very weak. His eyes closed.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there. It was at least a day, but could have been several for all he knew.

There was a loud crash from the house. Virgil only barely managed to turn his head enough to see. Someone was fighting inside. There were yells and angry screeches, but he wasn’t coherent enough to understand what they were saying.

Finally he understood a phrase, screamed loudly. “Where is he?!” It was her.

He felt a relief at that. If anyone could do something she could. But maybe relief wasn’t the thing he needed in that minute, because it caused him to let go of that last strand of consciousness he’d been holding on to.

He woke up in the familiar green room. The woman was sitting on the bed beside him, holding a bag of blood. He wasn’t sure how he knew it was blood. Except that it smelled like blood. But it was closed. How could he smell it?

He supposed that it was for her, but his stomach clenched, and he suddenly found himself reaching for it.

She smiled sadly and handed it to him. “Good morning, Virgil.”

Virgil’s heart raced as he realized what he was doing. He wasn’t calming down either. Why not? She’d always made him feel calm! Why wasn’t it working? Why was he drinking blood ?

She brushed his bangs out of his face. “I turned you. You’re a vampire.”

“Why?” Virgil’s voice broke. Vampires weren’t— they weren’t good. Even she, the kindest one he’d ever met, who’d never even drank from him, was still always suspicious and just a bit creepy.

“You were dying.”

“I don’t- I don’t know how to be a vampire. I don’t want to be!”

She leaned forward and hugged him. “It’ll be alright.”

•^*^••

Virgil settled in surprisingly easily. The other vampires that hung around his sire’s house had also been turned by her, for a variety of reasons. They still didn’t really like him, but that was fine. He hadn’t had friends in years anyway.

It was fine, until she told him that she wouldn’t be bringing home bags of blood anymore.

“You’ll have to learn how to get your own food.”

“I don’t- I don’t know how. I don’t want to hurt people. Please? I’ll find some way to pay you back.”

She laid a cold hand on his cheek. “You’ll be fine. The only way to learn is practice.”

“I don’t want to. What if I hurt them? What if I kill them?!”

“You’ll be fine. You won’t kill them. I’ll come with you the first time, to calm them, but after that you must learn for yourself.”

Virgil still didn’t want to. He knew what it felt like. It hurt. He didn’t want to make someone else hurt like that.

The first time wasn’t hard. His sire found a man who was walking alone in the night, and calmed him. It wasn’t hard, but Virgil felt sick leaving the man with punctures he didn’t know how to heal.

The second time was much worse. Virgil cried as he dialed 911. He ran as soon as he heard the ambulance, abandoning the phone in case it could be traced back to him.

His sire insisted that he would learn by doing, but his third time ended just as disastrously.

He begged her to bring blood. He’d get a job somewhere. He’d pay her back somehow. But she refused.

It took time, and several more panicked calls to 911, but he did learn. He couldn’t make it painless, much as he wished he could, and he didn’t know how to heal the puncture marks. His sire assured him that it would come with practice, and as he grew more confident in himself.

•^*^••

The hunters came suddenly, with little warning. One minute there was a smell of death and danger, and the next the door was beaten down. Virgil knew he wasn’t capable of fighting. He lost to every one of the other turned in a wrestling match, and didn’t dare try against his sire. So he hid. Lot of good that did him.

•^*^••

“Virgil? Virgil, can you hear me?” I need you to focus on my voice.”

Virgil tried to shift his attention away from the scene his mind insisted was repeating. The voice was mostly calm, just a little worried.

“I’m not going to touch you again. You’re safe. I need you to take in a deep breath.”

Virgil choked on the air. His vision darkened again.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to get it right. Just try one more time with me.” The voice breathed in deeply, loud enough to hear.

Virgil tried copying, with only slightly more success.

“Well done. One more time, hold your breath a little before letting it out.”

Virgil followed the instructions, even as they grew more complicated, and the voice wanted him to count as he breathed.

Eventually the false scene dissolved, and Virgil found himself laying on a couch in a house. In the hunters’ house. Patton and Logan were hovering over him, and Logan was still coaching him through breathing.

“Are you alright?” Patton asked.

Virgil gave a shaky nod. He would be, even if he wasn’t really ok at the moment.

“When you feel up to standing, we’ll take you downstairs. You should rest.” Logan said.

Soon after, Virgil was left alone in the cell to process the rest of his panic by himself. They hadn’t put the muzzle back on, and he was pretty sure that the door was unlocked. He didn’t know if he was grateful, or suspicious that neither of them had brought up the fact that they’d killed a vampire right in front of him. In his arms, really. That one was going to leave nightmares.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Fight Them || Morgan & Mina

TIMING: Current, shortly after Morgan’s run-in with Dani on campus

PARTIES: @drowningisinevitable @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan comes home, still reeling from Dani’s attack, where she is found by Mina. 

“It’s never going to stop, is it?”

CONTAINS: panic attack

It was a little after ten by the time Morgan made it to her house and stepped out of the car and stood frozen in the middle of the walkway. She was fine. She had all her body parts and after three pointless detours around town, she convinced herself that there was no way the hunter girl had followed her home. She was fine. The windows glowed with warm light and the purple-white glare from the TV in the great room. She could imagine Deirdre carelessly tipping the delivery driver fifty dollars and Bex sorting out the food and Mina’s face when she got her sushi and the cringes and the small talk and the whole wonderful nothing of dinner at home in the kitchen. She was fine. Any minute now, she would shuffle forward and open the door and call out to them and Deirdre would know just how tight to hold her and she would be fine.

But Morgan’s feet would not bring her any closer to her front door. If she moved anywhere except down to her knees, it would be around the side, where she would pass the kitchen windows and the paper cartons strewn on the counters on her way to her garden, her studio, her shed. It was as if that girl’s hand was still around her throat, pinning her down, ready to cut her existence away. The night wind billowed, making the grass sing in whispers and reminding her how alone, how vulnerable she was, standing alone in the dark with her back turned to the street.

Morgan turned and marched around the side of the house until she was through the fence and staggering toward the back porch. Her chest burned, collapsing inward. There was no lung function to disrupt and so no hyperventilating to make her dizzy, her breath simply stuck in place and the fear boxed away in her spilled out of her in taut muscles and trembling hands. Morgan bent over, too tired to do anything but let her hurt take her, and opened her mouth to cry out. Only the faintest croak rattled out of her breathless lips. She clawed her throat, hearing the echoes of her own pleas in her ear, and sank to her knees at last, wheezing and whimpering all the way to the ground. She was fine. She was home. All she’d wanted was to be able to come home and now she was home, so everything was fine...

Mina had left the house early, claiming a late night swim before bed and managing to stave off any curiosity that Bex might have to stick around. All she really ended up doing is soaking, something that she probably could have done in the tub but wanted just a bit more space to do. She wasn’t even shifted much, just the patchy amount of scales broken out. She’d been about to get out anyway when she heard whimpering, crying. Pulling herself up, Mina proceeded towards the porch until she saw Morgan curling in on herself. “Morgan?” She’d never heard Morgan make that sound, and Mina didn’t know what to do. For a second, she just stood there, eyes wide, unsure of what she was supposed to do. But then Morgan started clawing at her throat, and Mina leapt forward. “Morgan!” She reached out, trying to pull Morgan’s hands away. “Hey, hey, Morgan. Can you hear me? Morgan? What happened? What’s wrong?” She looked for marks before she realized that she probably wouldn’t find any. Zombie healing took away most forms of outward harm. “Morgan, please, breathe. Please breathe. Please breathe.”

Morgan heard her name as if from inside the house, but her hands were being moved, she was being pulled again, and what if she wasn’t fast enough this time? She sat up and tried to pull away, her frightened cry coming out in broken squeaks. But it was only Mina. Morgan slumped, still shaking but no longer fighting, and at the girl’s bidding, her lungs opened and the sobs that had been trapped inside her spilled out. What had happened? The same thing that always happened. The same thing that would keep happening, until one day it stuck. Morgan tried to breathe. When she was alive, breathing had always been a dependable comfort, but the more she tried, the harder she shook and sobbed. Morgan couldn’t even lift her head to look at Mina. It felt wrong to throw this at her feet, to make her carry this with her, but she couldn’t even sit up on her own, how was she supposed to keep it together long enough to get inside? Morgan shook her head and prayed to the earth that Mina knew how ashamed she was, how much she didn’t want this for either of them.

At last, in a voice warped with tears, she said, “There was a hunter. On campus. S-she knew...I didn’t tell her anything, I’d never seen her, she just knew. What I am. I was j-just leaving the building. I just wanted to come home...” She shivered and shrank inward, hating the plaintive sound of her voice, how she couldn’t seem to stop begging.

There was that moment when Mina almost panicked because of course she shouldn’t have just reached out and touched Morgan like that without asking, but then Morgan slumped forward, and Mina grabbed her under the arms and hugged her, held her, as she cried. This was terrifying. She’d never seen Morgan this upset. Morgan was so strong, always, in Mina’s eyes. She’d never watched Morgan break like this and shatter in so many places. Swallowing tightly, Mina attempted to soothe the older woman, remembering how Morgan had comforted her before. She could do this. This was something that she could do.

“There’s a slayer on campus?” she asked. She wondered if it was the same slayer, Bex’s slayer, the one that saved her from the vampire. This wasn’t fair. There couldn’t be a slayer out there that saved one of Mina’s favorite people while hurting another one. That wasn’t fair. “It’s okay. It’s okay. She won’t come here. She’s not going to come here.” She moved them a bit, tried to keep Morgan from caving in. “She won’t come here, but, if she does, Deirdre and I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay? We won’t. It’s not happening.”

Morgan didn’t have the strength to tell Mina she was sorry for crying on her, that this wasn’t her job, that she wanted to protect her too, and if she could just get inside and see the warm lights from the great room, she might finally feel safe. The only thing she could manage between repeating some variation of what she’d already said was more cries, until her voice buckled. Then she quieted and forced her eyes open to look at the world around her while her body continued to release its panic. Thousands of blades of grass, one freshwater pool fostering plant life, one nix who had done so much for her that she would never be able to repay, two steps to the front porch. Three clouds in the sky, one moon, ten constellations she’d made up with Deirdre. She went around like that, counting the chimes that tinkled in the wind, the rustles from night bugs, the points of pressure from Mina’s grasp that she could actually feel, until the rest of her quieted and she only felt dull and hollow.

“I almost made it out on my own. I bought myself time, and then I didn’t,” she mumbled. “If it wasn’t for the fucking face-stealer, I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t…” Be here. With Mina. With anything. “I don’t want it to be your job to protect me. I don’t want the last thing I hear to be someone telling me I stopped existing the moment I died. That I deserve to be executed.” She breathed, chest shaking. “Did your dad’s friends ever tell you stories about people like me?”

“There’s really no way to prepare for something like this,” Mina said. “I’m just glad you made it out.” Her eyes widened. “There was a face-stealer, too?” Okay, alright. One problem at a time. She took a deep breath. “You’re here. You’re here. You’re here.” Mina didn’t know what she’d do if Morgan wasn’t here, if the slayer had succeeded. Would she have gone after a slayer, a human, to avenge a zombie? Would she really do that? Would she so firmly disregard her training in that way? Yes. The voice in the back of her head was tiny, but it was hers, and it was honest. She would. She would. She didn’t want to think on that too hard, didn’t want to think on the fact that she couldn’t avenge her father’s murder but would Morgan’s in a heartbeat. She didn’t want to know what that meant. Maybe it meant that she was as much of a monster as she’d always believed. Maybe it meant something else.

“It’s not my job to protect you. I want to. There’s a difference.” Mina knew this. This was about more than duty. She pulled away a bit, trying to look Morgan in the eye. “My dad’s friends were wrong. My dad was wrong. If they’d met you, they’d know that. He would know that.” The words didn’t sit well. Then, quieter, “I’ve seen zombies before.” She knew how to take down zombies, too. She’d never had to, didn’t want to, but she had the knowledge. That’s what happened when your dad wanted to be able to take one whatever, whenever, for however much was offered.

Morgan could only meet Mina’s eyes for a few moments before becoming too embarrassed of how broken she looked. “I tried to tell her…” she swallowed thickly. “To explain that I wasn’t what she thought I was. That I was a person. It was the first thing I tried…” And if it had accomplished anything at all, it had just made the slayer even more determined to kill her. It was too important to the rationalization bedtime stories some hunters told themselves. Of course they needed to stamp out any challenge they heard to that. Of course they’d try to double down. Morgan shivered, and decided to let Mina keep her own illusions; at least those were full of hope. “Were they starving, like the ones you see on TV, the zombies you saw? Or were they...like me?”

“Sometimes, they can’t hear,” Mina said, quietly. “Or they-- they-- they don’t want to hear. They don’t want-- They can’t-- To think of you as a person,” To think of myself as a person, “Is for them to completely rewrite everything that they know, that they were taught, and it’s not possible for some people because if they slowed down and they listened and they heard, they would know that you’re good and a person and that you’re not going to hurt them.” And some zombies were bad because not everyone could be a Morgan and try to live alternatively and eat animal brains cooked like a person. Not everyone did that. It was hard to explain that, especially to someone who always wanted to see the worst. How readily Mina had just… accepted Morgan as Morgan. How readily she’d accepted that Morgan could be a person, that Ari could be a person. Deirdre. They were people, and she knew that now, and maybe there was a part of her that had always wanted to see supernaturals as people but just didn’t know how. Still didn’t know how, sometimes.

Mina looked at Morgan, looked away. “They looked like you.” There’d been one man, and Mina would have never known what he was if it wasn’t for the slayer with them letting them know he was a draugr. He was old and young at the same time. He looked so tired. When they’d cornered him, Mina had looked away. She almost always looked away. “They just looked like people, but we were told they were dangerous people, and they needed to be-- So they were.”

Morgan knew what Mina was going to say before she even began. How many dinners in Texas had gone quiet when she brought up the hate crimes in Montrose or the attempts to give places the right to turn away queer couples from their apartment complexes and churches and schools and bakeries. If there was ever a real person in those discussions, and not just some hateful, fear-stricken idea, it wouldn’t be so easy. They might have to feel like a bad person. They might have to regret half their whole life in one go. And in a world that nurtured so little forgiveness, they couldn’t handle that, could they?

And with how Mina was brought up, with how her father had made her promise to be like him on pain of death, she wasn’t surprised that Mina had helped kill zombies like her, who died frightened, alone, and in so much despair. She nodded, accepting this, and sank a little further. “...It’s never going to stop, is it? It doesn’t even matter to them that I hate what human brains do to me, that I didn’t choose this, that I don’t even want to hurt anyone, much less…” She breathed deep, her breath still trembling with sobs waiting to burst. Then again. Then again. When she spoke again, her voice was firm. “Will you teach me? How to fight like them? Because I don’t want this either. I don’t want to spend the rest of my existence waiting for someone to find me and break me like I’m an abomination from hell, like I’m a thing made to be crushed. I need to be able to do better the next time this happens. I need to know I can make it home. You offered to show me once: no holding back, for either of us. Do you still mean that?”

Was it ever going to stop? Mina didn’t know. She didn’t think so, and she hated that. “They don’t-- They don’t know. They just don’t know. They don’t want to know.” She breathed in with Morgan, swallowing down bile. None of the people that she grew up with would see Morgan as a person. None of them. She wouldn’t have, over a year ago. She didn’t know what she would have done, if she’d known Morgan as a zombie before she knew her as a human. She might have found a slayer to deal with the situation. She might have never listened to Morgan about anything that she’d tried to tell Mina about supernaturals and life and just being a person. She probably still wouldn’t believe that she was a person. She took a deep breath. “I’ll teach you. I’m not losing you to people who don’t understand and refuse to listen.” She squeezed Morgan’s hand tightly. “There’s no learning to fight like them. You can’t. They were made to fight you.”

Mina’d had to learn that from wardens. She could mimic them all she wanted, but that wasn’t teaching her to fight them, just like them. “You have to learn to fight them.” She didn’t know how to fight back, only to hold her ground until she could escape. It looked like they’d both be teaching each other something. “But I did mean it. No holding back. You’re going to learn how to make sure you can always make it home.” Maybe she was damning herself, teaching a supernatural how to fight back against hunters. Maybe this was the ultimate step in the wrong direction. Maybe she didn’t care.

Morgan squeezed Mina’s hand in turn. Fight them. It didn’t sound so just-in-caseies like that. There was nowhere to hide what she wanted, how many Good Little Zombie rules she’d be breaking, how much she would be disappointing Remmy, or how much of the world she wanted to believe in might crumble away.

Gold lamplight splashed into the yard. Morgan flinched, whimpering, then she lifted her gaze to the windows. There was Bex in her pajamas, her hand still on the master switch, gaping with fear. She said a word and out of the shadows stepped Deirdre. Morgan let go of Mina’s hand to reach for her and toppled against the nix instead, too overwhelmed to remember how to balance. Deirdre was in her black robe, the one Morgan had gotten for her because it had bats and tombstones on the inside, and her hair looked damp from her shower. She was so beautiful in the most ordinary way, Morgan started to cry all over again, thinking of her swallowed by eternal nothing alongside the girls she loved so much.

Bex and Deirdre ran for the nearest door and as they knocked past each other and dashed into the garden, Morgan realized how much they looked like they’d known each other for so much longer, like they belonged in the house together.

“The hunters think I was made to fight them. Maybe I can prove them right,” she rasped, her eyes still on Bex and Deirdre, coming closer and calling her name. She swallowed thickly and hid her last words in Mina’s shoulder, audible only to the two of them. “Meet me at seven, just after sunrise. No holding back.”

Then she was surrounded, hands all over her face, bodies pressed against her back, familiar voices mixing into worried noise, and the only thing Morgan wanted more than the power to cut down anything that would take her away from this (all she loved, all she had, all that could be) was the power to hold everyone close to her at once and carry them safe inside.

[gilbirda]

Of bats, dreams and human connections. Chapter 7

SebastianxF!Player

Maybe, in retrospective, moving to the middle of nowhere and become a farmer wasn’t Liz’s smartest idea. The worst part wasn’t getting up early or doing housework or meeting new people, no - the worst part was having to bathe in sun cream every morning and pray no one noticed she didn’t age or got tired or hurt no matter what.Did I mention that Liz vas a vampire? Well, she was. And even if for some she was the stupidest vampire alive, in her defense she just wanted to make new friends. Fortunately for her, the local goth boy of the town may be available.

Based on @beansthatscream ‘s answer

[Read on AO3] | [Read on FF.net]

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The first thing that Sebastian registered was that he was cold and warm at the same time. He patted around, searching for the blanket, realizing in that moment that this wasn’t his bed - well, not his bed per se, but the bed in the room that Liz let him use and… you get it. He opened his eyes, immediately regretting it as the sun shining through the curtains (how in the world a vampire had very thin curtains?) hurt his sensitive eyes.

He was in Liz’s bed. He wasn’t a stranger to her bed - they sometimes hung out there and watched netflix or whatever -, but what was new was the fact that he was, in fact, naked.

Last night came back to his sleepy mind. After a heated making out session, things became even more steamy and they ended up making slow and tender love. He must have fallen asleep shortly after because he couldn’t remember much more. 

“Ugh!” he flopped on the pillow. How embarrassing! He wanted their first time to be special and romantic, and definitely not fall asleep on her.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!” Her voice was way too cheery for the time it was. If the sun was out, it was too early.

“If you made me eggs I’m leaving this place.” Sebastian groaned in the general direction of the door connecting to the main room of the house, knowing she would hear. By the giggling he assumed she did.

“Nah, I would never!”

He hummed, reaching for his phone, wincing at the pain from the recent bite pulling at the movement. He ignored it nonetheless, unlocking his phone to find too many texts. Some were from his mother, generally asking how he was and non-urgent questions about her computer; but the origin of his two hundred and so notifications was the group chat with Sam and Abby. They had included Liz just recently, since it was silly for him to be the messenger all the time. 

The first messages were from last night, telling them they were home safe and asking if Liz and him were okay. After a few hours, Sam and Abby started discussing ideas of what they were doing, deranging from having a nice date to wild sex against the wall. Around midnight, Abby reminded them to use protection.

That didn’t bother him. His friends had been rooting for them to become a couple since they met the farmer, so comments like these were normal.

No.

The worst part started this same morning, when Liz sent a photo of him sleeping in her bed. The photo itself was harmless - he may be naked, but he usually slept with the blankets up to his neck, so nothing weird appeared in the photo. She even took care to not show the bite mark.

But the photo made it obvious where he slept, since their friends knew her room and her bed, and the headboard of the bed was without question Liz’s bed’s.

yeah booooooyyyyyy 🍆🍆🍆🍆- Abbs

I KNEW IT I KNEW IT abby you owe me - Samson

idiot, we both thought it would happen yesterday - Abbs

dont worry you can just treat me next friday ;) - Samson

who said that anything happened? - Liz

There was a pause in the group chat.

after all that sexual tension yesterday you want us to believe nothing happened? - Abbs

👀 - Samson

Then it was lines and lines of nonsense, another photo of him sleeping and hugging Liz’s pillow - this time it was obvious he was naked, at least waist up - a string of eggplant emojis from Abby and Sam and the most recent one was a photo of the back of his head as he read the group chat.

He turned. She was there, at the door, biting her lip and writing on her phone.

Yep, it had been a bad idea to convince her to get a smartphone.

“Why.”

Her smile was bright. “Just because I can.”

“I hate you,” he didn’t bother answering the group chat. He locked the phone and put it back on the nightstand.

“You don’t~!” 

Sebastian blinked slowly, considering the idea of continuing the banter, but his stomach made the decision for him. He was hungry as heck. With a sigh, he got up and looked for his underwear on his way to the bathroom, not letting himself blush once he found it next to one of Liz’s colorful bras. He did ask her why the pastels and the rainbows, and she said it was because too much black was boring and she liked the pretty colors.

Once in the bathroom, he relieved himself and washed his hands, cupping some cold water to splash himself awake. He usually was slow to wake, but today he was especially sleepy.

The reflection in the mirror reminded him why this was the case - the gigantic bruise on the side of his neck, already yellowing on the borders, surrounding twin fang marks on his skin. Liz said she wanted it to bruise, but this was… cartoonish, even. 

Not happy enough with her hickey, apparently she left a path of destruction down his clavicle to his chest; smaller bruises and shallow bite marks, not enough to draw blood, covered his skin there.

It was a miracle she didn’t get any of this carnage on her photos. 

And… he was blushing like crazy again. Oh, Yoba, he liked seeing those marks on himself.

Was it too late for him? He panicked, unsure of what was going on. He loved her, but was this… okay? Going too fast? He didn’t regret last night, but that didn’t mean he was confident that was the right direction for their relationship.

It isn’t like he was thinking of long term commitment or anything like that - the thought was creepy enough to make him cringe-; but he didn’t consider this relationship to be a one-time thing, or a simple fling. He wanted… companionship? He liked being understood, but not in the way his mother did or the way Sam knew when he needed to be alone - no, with her he didn’t feel like he had to explain himself at all; or even if he did, she was open to listen without judging. He wondered if it was something that being alive for decades gave you, or if Liz was already like that.

Either way, he was excited to see where this could go.

Commitment? He could do it, but it was too soon. Until then? He was a-okay with finding out what else he could live alongside one vampire and maybe, just maybe, delay his move to the city a bit more.

***

After a day where she basically force fed Sebastian delicious food rich in iron (the delicious part she had to believe him because she couldn’t taste any of it), Liz found herself living in a postcard. Cuddled against her boyfriend, quietly reading as he did some research for his next project on the laptop, her cat in her feet… she didn’t believe in heaven, but this must have been close to it.

Until, of course, someone banged on her door.

Liz jumped in surprise, not used to being caught unaware like this, and quickly stood up, wary. This wasn’t Sam or Abby, since they declared the day “free for the lovebirds to work through their awkward sexual tension”; so who could it be this late?

“Liz? C’mon girl, this is an emergency!”

That voice.

Of course.

Of course it was someone from her coven. Of course they had to interrupt her free day. Of course it had to be Laila.

“Don’t worry, I know her,” she whispered to Sebastian, who had put the laptop away and was eyeing the baging door with worry. He visually relaxed, but looked at her eyes, asking if she needed help. He didsuffer aunt Lauren, after all. Liz smiled and shook her head.

“Who are you talking- oooohhhh. The human!” the woman on the other side of the door continued saying. “Yo, if you don’t open the door in three seconds I’m going to kick it down!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming!”

As soon as Liz opened the door, her sister Laila jumped in carrying… a baby?

The greeting was caught in her throat, instead squeaking a “what the actual fuck?” eyes fixed on the sleeping baby, a total feat in this ruckus.

“Nice to see you too, sis.” 

Liz blinked a few times, unable to look away from the baby. “What happened?”

“I got fucked,” Laila made a vague gesture. “Literally.”

Somewhere from the sofa, Sebastian snorted. 

“I thought you were abroad studying…?”

“I was, until I met -” she physically cringed, “ugh, you know what? Let’s not give him power by mentioning his name. The thing is I now have a baby. The name's Liam.”

Laila stomped towards the small kitchen and opened the fridge like she owned the place. She rummaged for a while before making a disappointed sound and closing the door with a bang. “No blood? I would kill for a glass of blood right now.”

Liz looked nervously at Sebastian, who shrugged. What was he supposed to do? 

“Unless you’ll let me take a sip of homeboy right here -”, Laila pointed behind them, towards the living room, with her thumb. She made a face when her sister shook her head. “Whatever, I can take something on the way back.”

“Uh...” the black haired vampire followed her sister, one hand barely reaching her as she stormed back out of the cottage, the tips of her fingers grazing the wild red hair coming in waves down Laila’s back. 

“Here’s everything you’ll need,” Laila kicked an enormous bag inside. “And I mean everything.”

“I…”

“Please tell me you can do it, Lizzy! I’m desperate,” the wild redhead put a hand carefully on the baby she carried around her body with a harness. 

“I would, if you told me what is going on!”

The woman stopped in her tracks, blinking a few times. “Right! I knew I was forgetting something! Silly me,” she laughed, hitting her head gently with a fist. “I need you to take care of Liam.”

Liz nodded, she had gotten that idea already. And it seemed like saying no wasn’t an option.

“How long?” If Laila needed help, it would be important.

“I…,” the redhead sighed, playing with a lock of hair, looking down. “Don’t know.”

Liam woke up, mumbling peacefully in his mother’s chest, oblivious to the tension in the room. 

“Everything okay?” Liz finally asked, starting to work the clasps of the baby harness off her sister.

Laila turned serious. She looked to the side. “No. Not really,” she whispered. “He… broke my heart, stole from me and ran with vital information.”

“And left you with Liam.”

Her sister didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. From the living room, she heard Sebastian stop breathing, sensing the gravity of the situation. Even Liam didn’t complain when he was moved to Liz’s hip.

Liz was positively annoyed by this visit, probably more than with aunt Lauren’s visit, but right now she could see a sister in a time of need. As much as she didn’t like children and couldn’t deal with babies, Laila needed her. 

She sighed. 

“Okay, but you are paying for everything.” She gave a little smile, trying to lighten the mood. The redhead snorted and leaned down to plant a kiss on her son.

“Be good for your auntie, sweetie.” The baby giggled in response. “Okay then, thanks a lot. And…,” she looked up with a frown. “Protect him.”

“With my life.”

Laila smiled and finished pushing the box with the baby’s things inside the cottage. On her way out she caught Sebastian’s attention and smiled at him, a full fanged smile.

“I hope we meet again, kid.”

Sebastian only nodded, not understanding anything that was going on.

***

That night they didn’t sleep that much at all. Liam was used to being awake at night and unlike aunt Lauren, the child needed adult supervision. That meant feeding him and rocking him and playing with the kid until a few hours before the sun was supposed to rise. 

At her side, Sebastian was out cold. How he could sleep with the ruckus the kid and she made was a mystery - and no matter how many times she told him to go sleep in the other room he said he didn’t want to get up from the comfy bed at all.

He didn’t want to say that he actually liked kids. 

Next morning he found himself again in Liz’s bed, not naked but still tired as hell. The bite hurt so much he knew he had to take a painkiller, and Liam was peacefully sleeping in his girlfriend’s arms. She didn’t look so peaceful, though.

“Let me die,” She whispered. The bags under her eyes told him she hadn’t had a blink of sleep.

“Breakfast?”

“Today you are on your own,” she sighed.

“Is okay,” he stretched his tired body, being careful of not jostling the baby awake. “Need help with the farm today?”

Liz seemed to think about it for a moment, then she shook her head. “No, I can manage. And I know you have a deadline coming soon.”

She remembered. His heart did a flip, even if he was by now kind of used to these small gestures.

“Okay then, see ya in the evening. Call me if you need me.”

“Always,” she smirked, moving up her head to give him a kiss when he passed by her.

Once he got home, some time before twelve, he directly went to the medicine cabinet, taking a much needed painkiller. He also threw his clothes in the washer, deciding on the spot that he had to get a bag with more clothes back to the cottage. 

On his way back from the washing machine he was confronted by Demetrius.

“Well?” he said, arms crossed, a stern look in his eyes. 

Sebastian blinked. Fighting with his step-dad was the last thing on his mind.

“What?”

“Don’t you have anything to say?” he said, arching his eyebrow in a way that usually would make his blood boil. 

But now he was just… tired.

He shrugged. “If this is about rent I already gave mom the money.”

Demetrius huffed and uncrossed his arms. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

Sebastian blinked. Of course Demetrius wanted to bait him to fight about his time with the farmer. This wasn’t the first time he made comments about her, about how suspicious she was, about the unusual amount of time he spent with her.

“You may have to be a little bit more specific.” He shrugged again, swerving around the body of Demetrius to reach the stairs to his basement.

“You were at her house again.” He said to his back. It wasn’t a question. “Do you know how worried we were-”

“Don’t start with the bullshit, Demetrius. Mom wasn’t worried, Maru wasn’t worried, you were.” He turned around and for one time that he felt the rage creep up his chest, he was too tired and sleepy to explode. “And if they were, they didn’t say so when we texted”

“Maybe I was worried about you - you haven’t come home in ages.” 

Sebastian snorted. “Yeah, right. And I’m supposed to believe that.”

“Of course I do! I’m your father! I have to look out for you and make sure you don’t make a mistake that would ruin your life!”

Wow. “What is that supposed to mean?” he whispered, knowing what was coming next.

And Demetrius didn’t disappoint. “You aren’t listening to me, Sebastian. That woman… Elizabeth, she cannot be trusted,” he was pleading, but he could see his words were falling in deaf ears. “I did some research on her, asked for a few favors, and her family is shady at best - she is a criminal at best. Fake identities, moving around so much… something doesn’t add up.”

The younger man smiled sadly. Of course he knew why, but he couldn’t defend her without exposing her secret. 

“You have to believe me, Sebastian. She… She is dangerous. Get away from her.”

The finality of his tone made him finally look at his step-father in the eye. He was totally serious about all of this. How absurd. “No,” he smiled. For a moment he considered standing up to Demetrius, explaining the kind of person Liz actually was; but he was just so tired…

Demetrius narrowed his eyes. “This is not the moment to be a brat. This is serious!”

“And I am serious. She is not dangerous, not to me.”

“You must-”

“The funny thing is,” he interrupted whatever the man started to say, pinching the bridge of his nose. A headache was coming. “You can’t order me around. You aren’t my father. You don’t actually care about me.”

“I-”

“No, you just care if I get involved with a supposed “criminal” in case it would trace back to Maru and her scholarship.” He smiled when Demetrius flinched. “Oh, I know - I know you more than you ever cared to know me.”

For once neither had anything else to say. Assuming the argument was over, Sebastian turned back to the stairs, nodding at the teary-eyed Maru who had been listening this whole time from the lab. 

“Alright,” Demetrius’ voice stopped him as he was about to go down the steps. “If you want to be a little child about this, maybe you deserve what’s coming to you.”

“Maybe,” Sebastian shrugged, continuing going down.

“And since you like being with that… woman,” it was obvious that less respectful words were at the tip of his tongue, “then I suggest you go live with her.”

This made him turn. “Are you kicking me out?” He wasn’t hurt, he was planning on leaving sooner or later, but the circumstances were less than ideal.

“You barely step foot here anymore, always spending time with her. Why not make it official?” he chuckled. “Go back to being her little pet whore and don’t show your face around here.”

Sometimes it amazed him how little Demetrius knew about him, about his life, about the things that made him happy. Usually he ignored him and his disdain for his life; but as he watched the man turn back and stomp out of the house, it hit like a brick in his heart. 

Maybe he was right, maybe he had to rush his plans of moving out. Liz had a room for him at her cottage already and she wouldn’t mind him crashing for a while until he got things under control.

With a sigh, he picked out his phone, the chat with the vampire already opened, and ran to his basement room. He had a lot to pack now.

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[rev3rb]

Having Important Life Lessons About the Meaning of Life and Friendship Imparted to Them, a Guren and Yuu Parallel

Now before I get into it, I should say that I’m not going to really get into personal thoughts on Yuu and Guren’s relationship. That would take forever. I also won’t dwell too heavily on how successful Guren was at imparting these life lessons to Yuu as that’s easily up for debate. This is strictly meant to be an analysis/pointing out of how both Guren and Yuu had similar lessons imparted to them.

This gets a bit long with all of the screenshots, so it goes under a keep reading.

Say what you will about Guren, but it’s undeniable that Guren was important to Yuu’s growth in the 4 years between when Yuu escaped Sanguinem and the current day. Because we spend so little time dwelling on that period of time, it’s a little hard to say what exactly Guren did to/for Yuu, but we do see that there were two important lessons Guren tried to impart to him.

In chapter 33, we see 12 year old Yuu ask Guren the following question:

to which Guren ultimately responds with

The second lesson we see Guren try and impart to Yuu can be found in the extra chapter Yu and Guren. In it we see Yuu trying to get and then convince Guren to give him a sword. Guren refuses to give him one because:

Guren only gives him a sword after he sees Yuu protect a little girl rather than going for a sword and says the following:

While it wouldn’t be accurate to say that Guren is the sole reason that Yuu ends up adopting either of these mindsets, it does seem that Yuu took them at least somewhat to heart. Guren’s words, along with Yuu’s innate hatred of vampires at the time, is likely a large part of the reason why Yuu was so obsessed with revenge when the story first started out.

The other lessons, living because of the people you care about and those people making you strong, really don’t stick until Mika shows back up in Yuu’s life. In fact, Yuu outright rejects the idea of friendship at first.

It’s not for lack of Guren trying to get Yuu to embrace friendship though. We can see that he does try multiple times, most notably when Guren denies Yuu a position in the demon army until he makes a friend,

and later, after Yoichi is able to subdue Gekkoin after being possessed by him.

When you combine Guren’s continued reiteration on the importance of friendship with the weight Guren’s words carry in their respective scenes, it's difficult to miss the feeling that Guren values friendship very highly despite his words and actions towards his own friends sometimes suggesting the opposite. If you’ve read the Guren light novels, you know this to be true.

He wasn’t always like this though. In fact he viewed his care for other people as a weakness,

and because of this, he repeatedly rejected the idea entirely, much like Yuu.

Sure, Guren had other reasons beyond just viewing it as weakness to reject friendship, especially Shinya’s, but the fact still remains that friendship wasn’t something Guren valued right away. Friendship was something Guren had to grow to value, and much like Yuu had Guren, Guren had someone to help push these ideas on him. Who was that person? Shinya.

Well, really it was all of Guren’s friends, but Shinya is the one that really put it into words for Guren like Guren did for Yuu.

If we return to the first lesson that Guren tried to impart to Yuu, specifically the idea that he should live despite how painful living is, we see that Guren essentially admits to having went through a similar crisis.

It’s in Resurrection at 19′s first novel that we get to see Guren’s experience with this idea first hand. For all that we make fun of the book’s prologue, Shinya’s ultimate goal with that conversation was to get Guren to believe that there is a reason to continue living in their broken world, much like how Guren was trying to give Yuu an ideal to live for.

Shinya even started the conversation off by talking about bodily functions too.

“But I figured getting horny, that’s something. That gives life some kind of meaning. Well, maybe not meaning, but at least it shows you’ve still got the will to live. You get horny because some part of you refuses to give up on life. Same reason you get hungry, probably, or sleepy. Your belly is empty, you think dirty thoughts, you close your eyes because you’re so damn tired.” -Resurrection at 19, Book 1, Prologue, Page 12

While the meaning behind the statements are actually more like opposites, Guren is implying these things are burdensome efforts one has to go through to keep living, while Shinya’s saying it’s a sign that part of you still wants to live, it’s still a rather strange and specific way to start your pitch on having a reason to live.

The similarities continue when Guren ends up asking a question that’s quite similar to the one Yuu did in chapter 33.

“With things the way they are, is there any point to living?” -Resurrection at 19, Book 1, Prologue, Page 14

Shinya forces Guren to answer the question for himself, but ultimately, the prologue ends with Shinya offering these words:

“And Guren? Remember, life has meaning. It’s got to. So don’t go getting yourself killed.” -Resurrection at 19, Book 1, Prologue, Page 15 and 174

Is it the same sentiment Guren gives Yuu? No, not quite, and it shouldn’t be; Guren’s and Yuu’s needs in those moments are different. However, it is from this conversation that Guren finds and solidifies his reason to live, much like how Yuu did from Guren’s words.

“But there was no need to worry. Guren had found his reason for living. As long as Shinya, Norito, Mito, Shigure, and Sayuri were still alive--Guren had a purpose.” -Resurrection at 19, Book 1, Chapter 3, Page 174

At the end of it all, Guren ends up doing almost exactly what he told Yuu to do. He chose to keep living for those that need him, and it’s this goal, living so he can save Shinya, Goshi, Mito, Shigure, and Sayuri from dying again in two years with the added goal of fixing his mistakes, that pushes Guren forward in the current story.

For the parallel in Guren’s second lesson, having friends helps you to be strong, we have to look back at Catastrophe at 16. Catastrophe at 16 focuses heavily on the concept of what it means to grow stronger, so if we really wanted to dive into Guren’s growth behind this concept, we could be here all day, but once again, Shinya helps solidfy Guren’s concept of what it means to grow strong. Shortly after Shinya stops Guren from killing Seishiro in a fit of anger, and Guren sarcastically remarks about the power of friendship, Shinya offers these words:

“Yeah, but I don’t think frienship is so bad. Without it, what’s the point of living?” - Catastrophe at 16, Book 6, Chapter 3, Page 268

Shinya then launches into a talk on his own goals in life, but he eventually circles back to Guren when he shares what he percieves Guren’s goals in life to be.

“The reason you want to become stronger is to protect those around you, isn’t it? In other words, you want strength so that you can be close to people. What you’re really interested in is protecting people. Why be embarrassed about that? Why not just make that your ultimate goal?” -Catastrophe at 16, Book 6, Chapter 3, Page 269

As Guren puts it, Shinya wants him to “embrace friendship”. Guren being Guren still thinks that it’s weak for him to want that, but Shinya says one last thing to help hammer home that it’s okay to embrace friendship, and to grow strong for others over anything else.

“You mean if we have patience and stick together, we’ll make it someday?” “Maybe. How would I know?” “Very inspiring.” “But if we’re not close to anybody, I don’t think there’s much point to living. You feel the same way, too, don’t you, Guren? That getting strong just for the sake of it is meaningless? I think the meaning lies in protecting and supporting others... right? You can’t just think about yourself, can you?” -Catastrophe at 16, Book 6, Chapter 3, Page 271

The scene ends with Guren still being on the fence about the idea as a whole, but it’s obvious that Guren accepted this mindset as the rest of Catastrophe at 16 shows this. His advice to Yuu in the extra chapter 4 years later also shows that he did in fact take Shinya’s words to heart, or at the very least, he saw it as a lesson worth passing on.

However, like with Guren and Yuu, it would be far from accurate to say that Shinya is the sole reason that Guren adopted these either of these mindsets. Guren’s other friends were important as well, but really, Guren essentially already believed in these things. He was just in denial due to the likes of Mahiru and Kureto repeatedly showing and saying that frienship made him weak in comparision to them. All Shinya did was put Guren’s ideals into words, and tell him that it was okay to think the ways he suggested. Like Guren did with Yuu, Shinya just pushed Guren in the right direction, which for a character like Guren, who constantly lives in denial about his own feelings and character, is something he needs/needed.

TLDR: The two major lessons we see Guren try to impart to Yuu are lessons that Shinya helped impart to Guren back when they were kids.

And with that said, it all hits a bit differently when you remember Shinya admitted not only to only having a goal in life because he decided to take up Guren’s,

“And did you find the goal you were looking for?” “Nope, but I figured I might as well give protecting my friends a try too.” -Catastrophe at 16, Book 6, Chapter 3, Page 270

but to also having no real reason to live either.

Shinya really was only saying those things for Guren’s benefit. It’s hard to say whether Shinya even believed in some of the stuff he was saying, though it’d be nice to think he did.

[rokutouxei]

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 19 OF 22

-Sweetness of the dagger in the heart, up to the hilt Like a remorse. I'm not sure of dying.

- "Midnight Elegy", Léopold Sédar Senghor

--

interlude i

 --

It tastes a little more bitter than she thought it would be.

And she knows it’s not because of the leaving itself, but something else, that one thing she hadn’t dared address due to her overlapping fears. But time does not stop for anyone, so she is, instead, here. Standing in front of an open, semi-filled suitcase.

Going away for a year means packing enough clothes to last her through all the seasons, things she can style and re-style over and over efficiently. So she’s bringing her favorite clothes: a maroon turtleneck, her favorite plaid plants, the white blouse she wears all the time in the summer, her coat…

Her hands ghost over the fabric of the folded yellow dress she’s about to pack in but—

Something about yellow doesn’t sit right with her anymore.

Whatever. She doesn’t have to put it in yet. Or ever. Besides, it’s not like she’ll be done packing today, there are still some clothes in the laundry she ought to bring with her, and stuff she brought for repairs, and—

She’s just not ready to go quite yet.

So when Dazai invites her to join him and Arthur on a road trip, she says yes without thinking.

It’s a good deal, anyway—she only has to split the costs of gas and food, and Dazai and Arthur are shouldering the rest of the costs. (Where they got the money, she doesn’t know.) They said it’s their little treat, to wish her good luck with her trip abroad. They’re going south to a little-known beach destination. But it’s not just the three of them; Isaac’s not on campus right now—due to a conference or a seminar of some sort—but he promised he would follow them to the area once it was over.

They were set to stay for three nights. Arthur and Dazai promise that while they’ll be staying in the same hotel, they’ll get a suite that assures that both she and Isaac have entirely different rooms from theirs. She makes a face at them that makes them laugh, but soon enough, they’ve piled into Dazai’s rented car and are on their way three hours from campus.

It’s two weeks before she’s leaving for her exchange program and time feels slow.

They get there late in the afternoon, the sun just about to set; just in time to relax a little before the dinner buffet opens. At the latter end of the trip, Dazai had begun to sing praises non-stop about the food. Arthur also kept mentioning the view. Which would be exciting, if they weren’t being so handsy with each other that it was hard to figure out if they were talking about the resort or each other. The suite they had gotten with three rooms and a shared living space was rather beautiful, with a balcony that led right into the beachside.

Arthur and Dazai stumble backward onto their shared room with their mouths locked onto each other, and she exits the door at the back to look out the view.

She’s moving to a town by the seaside in fourteen days, and she’s lived in the city for so long it’s hard to imagine what it would be like to live in a place like this for longer than a vacation. The sharehouse she’d managed to get for herself was only a train ride or two to the beach, as well, so this kind of view, with the endless sea, the deep orange-red of the setting sun—is soon to become common.

It fills her with delight and—

Also fear.

But there’s not much time to think about it because soon, it’s time for dinner, and Dazai’s put on an Aloha shirt with a questionable design and—oh dear, Arthur has too. The linen blouse she’s got on has nothing in comparison to the loudness her friends are wearing, and somehow it’s just right.

Dazai is correct in saying that the food is good, and they stuff themselves to bursting with all the seafood and vegetables they can muster. She hadn’t imagined there would be this many kinds of edible seaweed, and how delicious they can be with the right mix of a salad. Then, there’s even a little song and dance presentation by a local cultural group—the kind that invited the audience to join in. Of course, Arthur and Dazai join in. She takes all the videos and photos she is physically able to, two phones in her hands and a camera on the table.

For a good portion of the three hours they spend half-eating, half-talking at the cafeteria, she forgets all that she is worried about.

Like it’s getting taken away by the sea.

The next morning, the three of them join a little tour group to go snorkeling at a nearby island. She admits to not being the most proficient swimmer—and also to a little fear of the open ocean—so Dazai and Arthur take turns to hold her hand and be by her side. They point at beautifully colored corals and swarms of fishes dashing in between their legs. The sea is not that scary when someone you know will not leave you is by your side. That no matter how far you go from the shore, you are still anchored down. At some point, Arthur gets stung by a jellyfish he’d missed to evade, and whines about it on the boat all the way back—Dazai promises to kiss it better. She pretends to be seasick. It’s all in good fun.

She doesn’t catch Dazai looking carefully at every expression she makes.

One group of tourists also in the same resort come knocking at their door around lunchtime, once they’ve gotten back. The group asks them if they’d like to join them in a little grill party because they’ve ordered too much food. Arthur offers to bring soda and alcohol in exchange, and so for a good portion of the afternoon, they’re sitting by the beachside under the shade of umbrellas munching on some grilled seafood and meat. It’s a large group that both Dazai and Arthur socialize with easily, while she guards their little spot. A young woman with dark black hair and stunning brown eyes tries to seek her company, but she politely declines, and she shuffles off back to the crowd with a little disappointment.

She’d rather be with someone else. But it’s all for the better that he isn’t with them, anyway. She knows that.

Isaac arrives later that day, the shadow of a storm in his eyes, just shortly after they’ve eaten their dinner. With one look, it becomes obvious to the three of them that Isaac will be severely overdressed. He looks great in it, sure, but a neatly-pressed button-down shirt paired with slacks and matching dress shoes aren’t exactly what you wear to the beach.

(“Of course that’s what he has, Arthur, he came from a conference.”

“Conference schmonference. What kind of man doesn’t have at least one pair of shorts and a T-shirt when he’s on a trip.”

“It is not professional, and I will not be wearing my sleepwear to the beach, Arthur.”

“Now, now, boys,” Dazai says, but she knows by the tone of his voice that he’s not up to any good, either. “I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out for our dear Isaac here.”)

The four of them end up watching a movie that night—Enola Holmes, her insistence—and maybe they watched another one, but she was asleep by the tail end of the first one to have even noticed. It is Isaac who carries her to bed. He’s only been here for a few hours at that point, but—sometimes she gets so deep into her head that she doesn’t notice how obviously it shows; in the bags under her eyes, in the way she holds herself upright—or not at all. And her friends are her friends for a reason.

The next day, they get into action.

She’s just gotten out of bed when Arthur comes back into the suite with a handful of flyers, saying that there’s going to be a surfing instructor down the beach. After some bayside breakfast—room service, because they can; she is so suspicious of Arthur right now, how many of the hotel staff had he seduced to get all this lavish treatment?—and a bit of rest, the four of them make the trek to the instructor’s place, nearby where the seaside shops are.

She and Arthur elbow each other all the way to the seaside, carrying their rented boards whispering to each other about how the instructor is “admittedly-actually-not-that-bad-and-maybe-if-I-were-a-little-less-sober-pretty-attractive.” Dazai and Isaac hang out by the beachside, having bought a pair of the most delicious in-season mango shakes they have ever had, lying on some reclining chairs.

Surfing, as it seems, is not as easy as it looks like, and the grace that comes with riding over waves taller than you is one that is learned by falling over and over again. It doesn’t take long for her to get soaked, sinking into the water with each unbalanced stance, the sea overpowering her. But she comes up laughing anyway. It is nice to feel small when the world is daunting. Arthur is there for every wave that crests. He watches her break the surface, grinning as she gasps for air with the stupidest “I fucked up again!” acceptance smile filling her face.

After the hour and a half they spent with the trainer who was a little too patient with her to be entirely uninterested, not giving up on her even when all hope seemed lost (she got to do it at least twice; that counts, doesn’t it?), she and Arthur head to where Dazai and Isaac are. They only turn for a split second to grin at each other, their cheeks pink from sunburn, when they both hear the unmistakable sound of Isaac yelling “DAZAI!” with as much shock and disappointment he can muster before—

Well, before the sound of the crashing waves get to him.

She sees it in slow-motion, Isaac heading face-first into the ocean.

And then there is only a smug-looking Dazai—who has the audacity to say, “Oh no, are you okay, Ai-chan?”—before throwing the spare (now, apparently, rather purposefully-brought) towel onto Isaac’s dripping form. And it’s silly because they know, they saw, but they pretend they didn’t, she and Arthur rushing in to ask, “What happened?”, trying to not reveal the snicker rising up their throats.

Dazai’s version goes like this: Isaac had taken a misstep, because he wasn’t paying attention, and had tripped over Dazai’s foot, which caused Dazai to jolt and accidentally push Isaac into the just-cresting wave.

Isaac’s version goes like this: Dazai pushed him into the water.

And that’s how the four of them end up heading to the seaside shops nearby, Dazai “apologizing” by giving Isaac an Aloha shirt that greatly matches all of that which he had brought with him on the trip. (He gets her one too as an added excuse that it’s a “group souvenir.”)

When Isaac frowns at himself in the mirror, donning the green shirt adorned with pines and waves, bright yellows and browns and oranges—she comes up to him and says, “thank you for joining us,” which in Isaac speak already means all she wants him to know.

The way Isaac sighs is full of friendship.

They find a small shack nearby later to have some late lunch: local delicacies of chicken and shrimp. Dazai hums a song excitedly as he prepares to scarf down on his food, and the lovely owner of the small place points them to a nearby karaoke parlor—which was, coincidentally, empty of customers.

Isaac is just about to say “please don’t” when the three agree to go spend some time there before taking the walk back to the resort.

Dazai and Arthur sing love songs to each other so fervently it’s hard to figure out if they’re being serious or are just good actors. She belts out all her favorite songs until her throat feels hoarse. They even got Isaac to sing, much to his chagrin. The owners of the parlor were thoroughly amused. It is only five too many songs later, the sun about an hour from setting, when they begin to walk home.

The beachside here allows visitors to take shells they would like to pick up, but ask they only pick a reasonable amount of—well, one each person. So she’s walking with her head down, Dazai next to her, looking for her most precious single shell to take back with her to the university.

Arthur and Isaac are walking ahead of them, meters out of earshot. As she gets up from inspecting another shell on the beach—not quite what she wants yet—Dazai turns to her with a serious look on his face.

“How’s your head?”

She could pretend to not know what he meant about it—and, she had actually hit her head on a beam earlier, but only lightly—but there is no escaping when Dazai puts on that tone of his voice.

Instead, she answers, “Is this what this is all about?”

Dazai shrugs. “And if it is?”

“Then I love you,” she adds, to which Dazai grins. He pats her gently on top of the head before she crouches back down onto the sand, brushing away to reveal a white shell streaked with purple.

Dazai looks away from her and up to the wide horizon; the sun reflecting its orange light onto the water. “I really think you ought to talk to him about it.”

“I don’t know if I should,” she admits, clutching the shell in between her fingers, observing its shape. “I mean at this point, what else is there to say?”

“Do you not want to tell him about this?”

“No,” she says, rather surely. Even if she doesn’t know which this she is referring to.

Dazai remains quiet for only a moment. Just enough for her to take another look at the shell in her hand and put it back down onto the sand. She wants to take it with her but it doesn’t feel right, not this one. It feels like it belongs to the sea. She stands up and begins to walk once more. Dazai follows a step behind her.

“Isn’t it unfair that you want him to reach out to you but you’re not willing to do the opposite?”

“I—”

When Dazai calls out her name, she knows he is serious. He rarely calls out her name—and when they first met, it was because they kept forgetting each other’s names. Now, when the syllables of it fall out of Dazai’s mouth, she knows he is serious. Her heart feels tight, like it has curled instinctively into itself as a response.

She looks up at Dazai with a face like she’s pleading, begging, asking him to make it better.

And Dazai asks:

“Are you more scared of the uncertainty? Or the rejection?”

--

The four of them wake up early the following morning to catch the sunrise on their last day at the resort. It’s not much—the sun is on the wrong side—but there’s something about coffee (Arthur’s blend; a recipe he wouldn’t dare tell anyone) in the early morning while watching the sky turn blue. They share that quiet, companionable silence that’s nothing but comfort.

She’s a hundred percent sure that she’s going to miss this.

They stay only long enough to have breakfast and finish packing up before they all pile into the car and make the drive home. Arthur’s got full control of the AUX cord (“Boyfriend rights!” “You are not his boyfriend though?” “Basically-boyfriend rights!”) and they get to listen to him belt every single lyric out in the small, enclosed space. They arrive at the campus a bit past noon, and they have one last lunch together before they go their separate ways. Dazai drives them back to their places. And when he lifts her little duffel bag out of the trunk and handed it to her, he makes sure to give her a look.

The kind that said, “you know what you have to do; so stop being afraid of it.”

The truth is, she thinks, as she’s climbing up the stairs, she’s not that scared of doing it at all. She’s scared that it won’t mean the same to him as it does to her. That it will all hang in the balance and it will be worth more to her than it will be to him, and then they will be separated just like that.

So what is it? Is she scared that he will deny her? Or is she scared that she doesn’t know how he’ll react?

Theo is a great friend. Theo has always been a great friend. Sure, he’s been a little rough on the edges, and sure, maybe he was mean to her in the beginning, but—all those insightful conversations, all the time he didn’t hesitate in lending to her when she wanted company, wanted a friend… Theo has been nothing but good to her. Sure, they’ve had fights, and maybe they don’t agree in all the things, literary or otherwise, and maybe there were things she knows he can improve on but—

He has been good.

And she knows if she lets him, he will continue to be good to her.

She just doesn’t know if he wants to do it any longer.

Once she gets to her room she sorts her laundry into the proper baskets, and brings them downstairs to the coin laundry machines to run them. She spots the little hardbound e.e. cummings book on her counter and ignores it. She drops the clothes onto the machine and pours detergent, closes the lid, and lets it spin. When she gets back upstairs, she closes the door with a gentle click. Heads to her bedroom to take a nap while the machine runs and—

Finds the yellow dress she’d left behind while she was packing for the trip, the one she didn’t have the heart to wear. The one she didn’t want to.

But what does she have to lose now? When there are only days, only hours? And the words that are left unsaid only keep growing?

She checks the time on the clock on her wall. Thinks about what Dazai has told her. What the four days away from the only city she’s ever known has told her.

She takes another look at the yellow dress.

Thinks of him.

Thinks of the rooftop waiting for them.