#it took me a while to go to the ocean rooms in animal jam too

[bucketnewt]

my love of deep water freaks does not mesh well with my thalassophobia

[thefanficmonster]

Power Couple

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Summary: Sean, Felix, Dave, and Joel welcome Corpse’s girlfriend to a game of Party Animals. It’s her first time playing and she has to deal with a lot more than just the controls and objectives - her boyfriend being a cute, cuddly sweetheart with ulterior motives to his clinginess.

Requested by @susceptible-but-siriusexual. Thank you so much for your request! Hope I captured what you wanted and how you wanted. Feel free to send any other requests you may have XOXO

It’s been one hell of a day. Had to correct twice as many documents as I was originally supposed to at work; found my car with a flat tire in the parking lot as I was about to go home; argued with my boss over the phone while stuck in a traffic jam. It’s been a rough twelve hours, but it has led me here and that’s what I’d rather think about.

By ‘here’ I mean I’m sitting on the couch in Corpse’s recording room, my computer in my lap, my screen displaying the screen to the game Party Animals. The suggestion was Corpse’s. He immediately picked up on my below par mood and wasted no time finding a solution to bright up the remainder of the day, shadowing the shitty portion of it. I am not what you would call a gamer. Sure I’ve played Among Us with Corpse and his friends a few times. Even that I struggle to do because I’m internally fangirling over all the people in the lobby. Yeah, dating a youtuber doesn’t mean you automatically stop gushing over the many content creators on the platform you’ve been watching for quite some time now. Corpse knows how nervous I get so he’s always near me when we play with Sean, Felix and the other. All he has to do is give me that encouraging smile and wink of his and I’m good to go. Side note: massive props to him for going easy on me in Among Us, getting teasingly called ‘simp’ by his friends in the process.

“You’ll love it.“ He promised me over and over again as the game was downloading on my computer.

“I don’t doubt that, Corpse. But I am going in completely blind and I seriously don’t wanna embarrass myself.“ I mumble a quick ‘nor you‘ under my breath, hoping he doesn’t catch it because I’m in for a pep talk if he does. 

To my dismay, he does, “Listen here, you couldn’t embarrass me even if you actively tried to do something outrageous. Most likely scenario, I’d join you in the act.” He ducks in front of the couch so we’re at eye level, his hand coming up to cup my cheek in the sweetest, most comforting gesture ever. “We’ll show em who’s the boss at stealing candy.”

I can’t help but laugh, feeling unable to express just how much this man means to me. Words can’t do the feeling justice.

“Y/N!“

“Y/N!!“

“Corpse Wife has arrived!“

Hearing all the greetings lights a flame in my chest, the warmth spreading all the way to my neck and cheeks. “Hi guys! Missed playing with you!”

“We missed you too!“ Dave, the only one of the gaming gang I’ve actually met in person, replies to me, his words along with all the others’ wrapping around me like a comfort blanket. Despite them knowing I’m a fan of theirs, they’ve always made me feel welcomed, comfortable, nothing less than them.

“You know anything about this game?“ Felix asks me.

I shake my head, almost forgetting he can’t see me, “Corpse told me it’s funny and cute. It sounds like the perfect game for me.” 

“Oh no, this is a game of survival. Survival of the fittest!“ Sean shouts excitedly, a bang following his shout I can only assume was him hitting his desk.

“I’d like to think I’m pretty fit.“ I shrug my shoulders, laughing along with the guys.

“This is the only way to find out if you actually are.“ Joel’s voice comes through my headphones in the form of a tease.

Sean mumbles quietly to himself as he’s deciding how to separate us in two teams. “Guys, a little help here. We all suck at this game, it doesn’t really matter who’s in which team.”

“Actually...“ Felix trails off, “Corpse and Y/N are the ultimate power couple in Among Us. Chances are they will be in this as well. So, the only logical move would be to...“

“I’m taking Y/N, you take Corpse.“ Sean declares. “Joel, Dave, who do you guys wanna be with?“

And the game starts. Sean, Joel and I are the Meowfia while Corpse, Felix and Dave are yet to choose a team name. We throw around snarky, cocky comments at each other, taunting the opposite team as we struggle to take the candy to our respective sides of the map.

“Don’t you dare pull that lever, Dave!“ I launch at Dave, knocking his cute avatar away from the lever, buying Joel and Sean some time to steal back the gummy bear Corpse and Felix took from us.

“Y/N! Joel is out! Help me!“ Sean is freaking out now. I ditch Dave’s unconscious body and run to Sean’s aid. 

As I’m helping him push it towards out area a member from the opposite team latches onto my avatar, weighing me down and hindering me from doing anything.

“Hug!“ Corpse laughs as he has literally turned into a koala, holding onto my avatar.

“Corpse, you know you are actually supposed to hinder Y/N, not hug her. It’s cute though, don’t get me wrong.“ Felix laughs as him and Sean continue to struggle over the gummy bear.

“Nah, his tactic’s great. I can’t do shit.“ I desperately try and shake him off, “Babe, this is unfair. I can’t even be mad at you!“ I whine, staring to panic now that Dave is back to life and Joel is nowhere to be seen.

The round is won by Felix, Dave and Corpse who, if I might add, didn’t let go of me for the rest of the game.

We switch maps, now every man for himself. We’re on the submarine, recreating the Hunger Games with cute fuzzy animals. The thought passes through my mind, causing me to giggle.

“Y/N, you sound exactly like I’d imagine your avatar to sound. You’re so cute.“ Sean’s avatar circles mine a few times as he laughs.

He’s not wrong, my pale blue puppy is indeed cute. Apparently immortal as well.

“How is Y/N still alive?! Holy shit, her and Corpse really are a power couple.“ Dave shrieks when he sees me pick up the freeze gun. “NOOO!“ He shouts, devastated by the fact I shot him, sending him straight to his death.

“Chill, Dave. It’s all cool. Nothing personal.“ I struggle to hide my laughter, “No hard feelings, right?“

“Of course not, love.“ I can tell he grits the sentence through clenched teeth.

“Aw Dave, you are such an ice guy.“ I giggle, now shooting Joel with the gun.

“Someone take that gun from her!“ Sean cries as him and Felix race up the submarine.

Suddenly, the avatar of my boyfriend again wraps itself around mine. I hadn’t seen him in a while, considering Sean knocked him into the ocean earlier in the round. 

“How are you still alive?!“ I try to spin my puppy to get him to let go but he holds on tightly. “Babe, I swear, you are cute and I love you, but this is ridiculous. How and why are you alive?”

“That’s his superpower! He never fucking dies.“ Felix laughs, letting out a yelp when he briefly slips while climbing.

“Immortals!!! Immortals!!!“ Sean breaks out into a song, a song I really like, breaking the restraints I had on my laughter.

“Drop the gun or we’re dying together.“ He says almost seriously. Even though I can only see the back of his head I know he’s grinning.

“A Titanic/Romeo and Juliet mashup? Why not? I can live with dying a double historical death.“ Even though I appear accepting of his offer, I’m still trying to set myself free.

In the end, Sean claims his first win of the game and the rest of us are dead at the bottom of the ocean. Corpse and I did indeed die a Romeo and Juliet/Titanic death, getting everyone in their feels. We make a deal to get together and play again as soon as possible and we all go our separate ways, exiting the Discord call.

*Later that night* 

After a dinner consisting of takeout and two thirds of a shitty romantic comedies, Corpse shifts from next to me, starting to get up from the couch. I am surprised to feel jolted out of a half sleep as the room is now completely silent, the TV being turned off.

“Hey where’re you going?“ I ask groggily, rubbing my sleepy eyes.

“I have some editing to do. Don’t worry, I won’t stay up too late.“ He kisses my forehead before grabbing his phone from the coffee table.

Just as he’s about to walk away, I wrap my arms around his legs. He laughs, catching onto what I’m insinuating. His chuckle brings a smile to my face and butterflies in my belly. No matter how long we date for or how much time we spend together, some things never change. 

“Payback, huh?“ He asks, the smile audible in the question. I keep my eyes shut but nod, my arms still around his legs. “Alright, you koala. You’re coming with me.”

In his recording room, he settles in his chair placing me in his lap in a way that my legs dangling off to the side, my side leaning against his chest, my face hidden in the crook of his neck. We’re both comfortable, content and relaxed.

I don’t know when exactly it happens, but all my mind has registered is a quiet ‘I love you’ and the soft touch of Corpse’s lips on my temple. I manage to reply with an ‘I love you too’ before my sleepiness consumes me, my body completely relaxing against his, the warmth of his body, his scent, the sound of his breathing making me feel safe and loved: the two feelings I want him to feel with the same intensity when I’m in his arms.

Something tells me he does.

@simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios  @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help

[mochiiwrites]

🍁✨Autumn Troupe Headcanons!✨🍁

Hooray for more uncensored swearing! Sorry, this took so long! It’s hard to think of things for the Autumn Troupe since I don’t know them super well!

🍁🧡Banri Settsu🧡🍁

Whenever it's time for practice, Banri begins by smacking the back of Juza's head! (Not super hard, but enough for it to piss him off)

Diluc main, that is all. Before he got Diluc he was an Amber main, and somehow was good. Still uses her every once in a while!

Slightly intimidated by languages sometimes, I dunno how to explain it, so hopefully the dialogue does!

“Banri, come here for a second.”

“Hell no, I’m in the middle of a match right now.”

“Banri.”

“Sit your ass down and wait, Chikage! I’m busy!”

"Halika dito! Huwag kang humintay na papatayin kita at iwanan kitang dumugo sa lansangan! Inumin ng mga aso ang iyong dugo at kukunin ng mga uwak ang iyong laman. Gusto mo yan?!" ("Come here! Don't wait for me to kill you and leave you bleeding in the street! Dogs will drink your blood and crows will take your flesh. Do you want that ?!" ) I'm unsure of the translation, since the filipino was from Irumaaaaa_saaaaamaaaaa's comment on my Ao3! I just put it into google translate

“Damn! Fine, fine, I’m comin! Chill out!”

His older sister gave him a leopard plushie when he was a kid, which is why he’s fucking obsessed with animal prints!

Plays drums and almost broke the coffee table because he “jammed too hard” on it!

Constantly messing up Taichi’s hair, or he’s drumming to songs on his head.

*boom boom bap boom boom bap*

“Buddy, you're a boy, make a big noise, playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday! You got mud on your face, you big disgrace! Kicking your can all over the place, singin'-”

“We will, we will rock you!”

“Haha! Hell yeah!”

🍁💜Juza Hyodo💜🍁

Likes carrying Muku or Kumon on his shoulders! Sometimes they still parade around!

“Are you sure about this, Ju-chan?”

“Yeah, you’re real light, y’know.”

“What the hell are you doing, Hyodo? Practice is soon.”

Chews on things a lot when he’s nervous! He always has gum or a lollipop to avoid chewing on his shirt, his nails and other inedible things!

Uses shorter Mankai members as an armrest, but only the ones who are okay with it! He’s polite like that.

On nights where he just can’t sleep, he’ll go on walks or drive around on his motorcycle!

Terrible with eye contact and looking like he’s paying attention. Sakyo has to snap his fingers at him to make sure he’s listening!

Y’know the awkward sibling hug from Gravity Falls, he and Kumon have done that...a lot. It’s not actually awkward though, they just liked the show!

“Awkward sibling hug?”

“...Awkward sibling hug.”

*embrace*

“...pat, pat.”

....

“Hyodos, what the hell?”

🍁💖Taichi Nanao💖🍁

Cried twice when he got his piercings, the first time was because he was very, very afraid, the second time was because he was so happy that he looked good with them!

Has Heelys! One time, he tried to 'heely' into the rehearsal room, but he immediately fell over!

Plays the ukulele! He wanted to play guitar because he saw someone serenading their partner with it at school! He borrowed Masumi's guitar but bar chords suck and his hands are kinda small, so he settled for the uke!

"Aghhh! How do you play that! That hurts my fingies!"

"I have bigger hands and more experience."

"But you're only like an inch taller than me!"

"Height doesn’t really have anything to do with this."

Has a Tiktok! He doesn't post often, it's more for looking at memes or sick outfits. (He does the dances though! He's pretty good at them but they're all in his drafts since he's not super confident in them!)

Y’know how kids crawl up the stairs really fast. He does that. Constantly. Kazunari joins in, sometimes. It pisses Sakyo off a lot, but he gave up on trying to get them to stop.

"Taicchan, what are you doing?"

"Kazu-kun! I got the zoomies!"

"Nice! Can I join ya?"

"For sure!"

*Rapid thumping up the stairs*

"Aren't you gonna stop them, Sakyo?"

"...If I had that ability, they would've stopped a long time ago. Those idiots don't listen."

He LOVES Sk8 The Infinity! Langa's his favourite character! He's also probably a Reki kinnie!

🍁💙Omi Fushimi💙🍁

(It's blue like his regular shirt and Tumblr doesn't have any other colours ;-;)

Despite being tone-deaf, he hums a lot when he cooks! No one seems to mind it!

Enjoys scrapbooking! He kind of prefers scrapbooks to albums, since scrapbooks have a more homemade vibe, you know?

Gives the best hugs, and tends to hold hands with the younger members when they cross the street!

Regularly has this conversation!

“Banri, have you eaten?”

“I dunno Omi, have YOU eaten?”

“...I have. But that's not what I’m concerned about.”

“...I had a granola bar like, an hour ago.”

“...I’m making you something.”

When he first joined the company, he took notes on what everyone liked and didn't like to eat, plus if they had allergies! He still has it, he just doesn't need to use it anymore!

I feel like something like this has happened once!

“Ah, Omi! Can you help me grab something?”

“Oh, sure. What do you need, Sakuya?”

“Homare asked me to get some of that tea, but I can’t rea-”

*lifts Sakuya like Simba*

“Ah! Omi, haha! What are you doing?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it! Do you want me to stop?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine! It’s kinda fun actually.”

🍁💛Sakyo Furuichi💛🍁

Absolutely blind without his glasses, like it’s really bad. He walked into a doorframe without his glasses. Thankfully, no one noticed (he thinks).

He has a bit of bubble-wrap in his a pocket all the time and sometimes he uses it as a threat! (Hopefully that made sense...)

“Settsu, move over.”

“I literally can’t! Your fat ass is taking too much space!”

*pop*

“Just scoot your lazy ass over.”

*pop*

“I can’t I already-”

*pop*

“...Alright, I get it! I’ll shut up! Jeez, how is that so threatening...”

“...Asshole.”

*pop*

“...Sorry.”

Definitely told Azami that Santa wasn’t real when he was like 6.

Sakoda got him a mug that said #1 Dad but he crossed it out and replaced ‘Dad’ with ‘Aniki’! Sakyo still drinks out of it, sometimes!

Azami also made him a friendship bracelet when he was a lot younger. Sakyo doesn’t wear it (because it doesn’t fit him anymore) but he still has it! He likes rubbing the beads between his fingers.

Good at trivia! Like, really good. He somewhat enjoys Trivia Murder Party. (I just watched a play through and skipped to a random question, I have no idea if it’s actually hard lol.)

“Which body of water connects the Mediterranean Sea to the Atlantic Ocean?”

“Wh- How are we supposed to know that?!”

*Sakyo answers ‘The Strait of Gibraltar’ and is the only one who answers correctly*

“Fuck, my thumb slipped.”

“That shouldn’t be allowed. Sakyo’s shitty and old, he shouldn’t be able to know and remember things.”

“Oi, brat. I’m not that old. You’re not the one who got the answer right.”

“You’re not the one who literally never learned this!”

🍁❤️Azami Izumida❤️🍁

Has smacked too many cans/cups out of Itaru and Tsuzuru’s hands!

“Wh-”

“Drink actual water. And jeez, go take a nap or something. Your skin is even worse than I thought it could get. Aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one in the Spring Troupe?”

“Ah... I guess, you are right. Thanks for looking out for me.”

“W-well! W-we can’t have you on stage looking like a raisin! S-so!”

Often criticizes Izumi’s eyeliner and ends up just doing it for her. N-not that he minds or anything!

Played Love Nikki at some point, I do not take that much criticism.

Because I think the troupe/play themes are canon, he definitely helped with Shake the Shape and wrote some of RESPAWN!

Always has extra hair ties on him, even though most of the others don’t really need them. Most of the time, the hair ties end up being used for...other purposes.

“Ready.”

“What?”

“Aim.”

“Azami, I swear to whatever god is listening, if you fire that elasti-”

“Fire.”

“...You shitty brat-”

“Oh shi-”

Part of the ‘wears nail polish’ squad! He hates stickers. (Most of the time they somehow fall off) His go-to is an alternating pattern of black and red.

[tangtownie]

You Should See Me In A Crown - Natasha Romanoff x Dark!Reader Insert (AU)

Author’s Note: So, this is my first time trying to write something dark…

Think it might land in the category of soft!dark, but be warned none the less!

Super nervous about posting this, but I actually ended up really liking this one myself, so hopefully others will as well.

Reader is from the Red Room Academy, just as Natasha, only reader never left them. I took some creative liberties when describing the Red Room Academy, so that it fit my idea better, which is also why this story is marked as an AU.

The Russian nickname for Natasha means ‘darling’, ‘pet’ or ‘beloved’.

I incorporated some lyrics from the song, tell me how many you can find? 🧐

Regarding the timeline, I imagine this would take place after Natasha brought down SHIELD and shortly after Bucky joined the Avengers.

Also, shoutout to @a-little-counter-esperanto for being kind enough to beta this for me and offer some moral support! 🥰

Once again, this is marked dark for a reason! There might be topics that are triggering to certain people, so please be responsible about your media consumption.

Warnings: Explicit descriptions of violence and murder, dark!Reader, messed up “family” relations, weird/sexual obsession with a sister figure.

Word count: 2.252

Song Inspiration: You Should See Me In A Crown by Billie Eilish

I was perfectly concealed, blending in with all the mindless idiots making their way down the street. If this hadn’t been New York, and people actually paid attention to what happened around them, they might have noticed the warning sign that was the concealed weapons on my body. Or my too heavy boots beating down against the concrete. Carefully eyeing the tower, I counted the people moving in and out of the building. “Bite my tongue, bide my time.” I mumbled quietly, catching the attention of a passerby. We had in fact been biding our time, monitoring the tower for months, counting the number of armed guards on site at any given time. However, it seemed that these soft Americans had their most precious protectors under lock and key at all times. Biting my tongue, I tried not to scoff. One would assume that the Avengers were more than capable of handling themselves, but apparently their employer did not.

Not that it mattered, the more people in the tower, the more people there were for my sisters to play with. My sisters who were all watching me, waiting for my signal. Finally, we had found our missing piece and none of us were leaving here without her. I had been searching for her for years, using the Academy’s missions to get intel on my long lost sister. In time, Mother had found out and I had been forced to deal with that. Fortunately, it was nothing a little thallium poisoning couldn’t handle for me. One less complication and Mother would never get between us again. No one would. Catching the rays of the sun on the edge of my watch, I slowly rolled my wrist, the light reflecting up on a window in a perfect circle. “Wearing a warning sign.” I didn’t know where my sisters were located, but I knew they had all seen my signal. I moved swiftly through the masses, discarding my disguise along the way, and quickly found myself standing in front of the tower.

The first window shattered, as I opened the door, a flurry of bullets following the first one. Civilians were screaming: scrambling to get away, guards were rushing in from all sides: barking commands rushing through their radios and glass continued flying through the air as my sisters blew the lobby to pieces. A few stray pieces of glass tangled in my hair, light reflecting off of them as I moved gracefully through the chaotic scene, while the bloodcurdling screams piercing the air sounded almost like a symphony. Humming quietly to myself, I pulled my gun from the holster on my hip and aimed carelessly before shooting a guard in the face.

The bullet lodged in his eye and he fell to his knees, screaming. His body spasmed out of his control and with a final gurgling scream, he fell limply to the floor. “I love the way they scream.” I really didn’t need to kill him to swipe his ID, but alas why should my sisters have all the fun? After all, I was the one running this mission. The glass crunched underneath my boots and blood splattered all over me whenever my sisters killed the ones that got too close to me.

Making it to the elevator was easy: the guards and civilians continuously dropping all around me. Once inside of the elevator, I pressed R for residential. Wiping some blood from my cheek, I caught a whiff of gunpowder on my dark glove and I inhaled again, greedily, as pure joy filtered through my system. Raising my head to look at my reflection, I was met with a dazzling vision wrapped in all black. I could see the bumps from my arsenal of knives and guns strapped to my thighs, hips and arms. My hair was tied back tightly, the glass shards framing my head like a crown, and blood smeared across my face. “You are so pretty.”

The elevator dinged as it reached the residential floor. Unlike the others, this was ominously silent. By now the precious protectors would now that I had come looking for them. Or rather her. I had come for her and I would die before leaving without her. “Natalia?” I called out for her teasingly. “I know you’re here, любимый." I was met only with silence. Humming quietly to myself again, I fished a knife out of my holster and jammed it into the keypad of the elevator. The keypad sputtered and sparked before I pulled the knife back out, leaving it hanging down the side of the wall.

Flipping the knife carelessly, I scraped it against the wall, as I started moving down the hallway. “Our sisters are so looking forward to seeing you again, sweet Natalia.” I was almost reunited with her and joy filled my voice as well as my body. A flash of movement caught my eye and I turned just in time to see someone charging at me. A quick sidestep and he flew past me. He was tall, broad and dark. Every inch of him wrapped in black leather. His gaze was burning with fury, when he turned to look at me.

“Soldat,” I cocked my head in recognition, a smirk curling around my lips. “I see you’ve betrayed the cause as well.” The burly soldier snarled at me in response and a bubbling laughter rose from my throat. “Poor little Soldat, still have the manners of a raging beast, I see.” The deranged soldier lunged at me again, and it took all of my power to block his fist. The metallic whirring getting louder and louder the more weight he put into it. Grunting with effort, I could feel his arm slipping through mine and his fist met my face with full force. My entire body was slammed backwards into the wall and it felt as though my brain was vibrating from the hit. For a second everything went dark, but the taunting scoff from Soldat ripped me back to reality instantaneously.

Pushing myself from the wall, I growled back at him. To think that my dear sister had been trapped here with these abominations of nature for so long… But no matter, we were here for her now and we would take her away. I simply needed to put down this caged animal in front of me, and we could be on our way. “Watch me make ‘em bow.” Anger flashed in the eyes of the beast as I spoke and he charged again: his metal hand shooting out and wrapping around my throat. His eyes burning while he tightened his grip until all that could escape me were choked off gasps.

I fumbled for the needle in my pocket. I knew it contained just enough sedative to take down a deranged super soldier and while I had anticipated using it on a certain overeager Captain, this seemed like an appropriate use. When I finally grasped the needle, I plunged it into the side of Soldat’s neck. The drug took effect immediately: the beast’s eyes drooping and his ironclad grip on my throat loosening. As my feet touched the floor again, his hand slipped from my throat and he landed with a loud thump. I wasn’t certain how long it would keep him down, so for good measure I grasped one of my knifes and plunged it into him: his stomach, chest and shoulder before I sliced along the inside of his arm.

Loosing my patience, I started down the hallway again. I had to find her and save her. How could Mother ever have thought that Natalia was safe here? Kicking down every door I met, I eventually found her room. The soft scent of jasmine and lemongrass wafted over me and I couldn’t resist the temptation to go in. “You smell so sweet.” My fingers softly grazed over her walls as I moved inside and let the smell of my dear sister take over my senses. Her room was warm and inviting with throw blankets and pillows everywhere and I knew that I had been right. This—she—was exactly what our sisters needed, a comforting and warm presence.

Natalia’s bedroom was immaculate as always, not a single item out of place. Stopping at her dresser, I needed to feel close to her. I tore open a drawer and pulled out a sweater. The material was much softer and smoother than anything I owned and I burrowed my face in it, so that I could really smell her. A sense of calm washed over me and I let myself fall backwards onto her bed, so that I could be surrounded by her scent. My sweet Natalia, how I had missed her. “I fell for those ocean eyes.”

There was nothing I hadn’t missed about her: her eyes that would sparkle like the stars on a bright and cold night. Her deep, soothing drawl. Her soft and luscious hair that I could almost feel running through my fingers. All of it making up the resilient, courageous and ruthless warrior that I had loved for as long as I could remember. My sweet, dear sister. We would be together again soon and then nothing could tear us apart ever again. A sudden sound snapped me back to attention and I quickly got off the bed, hiding beside the doorframe to her bedroom. The steps were careful and calculated, yet soft. A smiled curved over my lips as I recognized them.

“Natalia, любимый, I’ve been looking for you.” Her steps froze at the sound of my voice. I slowly emerged from my hiding spot with the smile still on my lips. Natalia had never looked quite as beautiful as she did with her gun pointed at me. “Oh, любимый, I’m not here to hurt you.” Natalia’s stance wavered just a little and I was elated to see her giving in to me. “I’m here to help you escape, sweet sister.” Confusion washed over Natalia’s face and I smirked as I was reminded that she had always been one of our more simple-minded sisters.

“Mother fell ill.” I explained it simply to her. My darling, simple sister did not need to know all the gory details of what I’d done to find her. “And some of our weaker sisters were flailing without a strong leader, so… I stepped in.” An emotion I didn’t quite recognize flashed over Natalia’s face and she lowered her gun a little. “But as you know, любимый, I’m not exactly a nurturing person and while I see no use of such foolish sentimentality, some of our sisters have requested that you re-join us.” I watched her closely, as I finished my sentence. “We are going to run that place together. That, and any other place you want, my sweet love.” Anger flashed in Natalia’s eyes and her gun was back in my face instantaneously.

I didn’t let her reaction deter me, though. I loved her and I knew that she loved me too. I gently placed my hand on her cheek and dragged her closer to me. “I cannot do this without you, sister. I cannot live with you… Do you have any idea how long I’ve been searching for you?” I placed my other hand on top of her gun and pushed it down until it was pointed at my chest. “If you won’t let me help you, then you’ll have to kill me, любимый.” Natalia’s eyes widened and jumped back and forth, from my face down to my chest. “Tell me, sweet sister. Which do you imagine is worse? Living without you or dying first?” I gently brought my hand up to her other cheek and pulled her closer to me, until our foreheads were resting on one another.

“любимый, my love, don’t resist me.” I whispered the last words before crashing my lips onto hers. The feel of her soft, full lips against mine was even better than I had dreamt. I gasped ecstatically into her mouth and let my hands slide into her hair. I tightened my grip on her hair, when she tried to pull away. She could breathe when I let her. Until then, I would kiss her as long as I pleased. A tear slid down her cheek and I understood. She had finally accepted that we were supposed to be together and that we would rule alongside each other. “You will be the most perfect Mother, любимый.” I whispered against her lips.

Suddenly, a burning feeling spread through my chest and I could hardly breathe. “любимый, do you feel it, too?” I gasped. “We are finally becoming one.” Each syllable hurt more than the last and I barely registered Natalia’s gun clattering to the floor. Something warm ran down my chest and my legs almost collapsed under me. I clung to Natalia and she fell to the floor with me. She wrapped her arms around me and I was in heaven. “You are so beautiful, sweet Natalia.” Even as my vision blurred and I could feel the pull of a deep, dark sleep, I could not pry my eyes away from her. “Sister, I feel so tired…” My voice was cracking from all the effort it took me to speak, but she was here. My true love, my dear sister. I had finally found her again. “Sleep, sister. Everything will be alright.” My sweet Natalia’s voice was the last thing I heard before the darkness took me.

Okay, so Tumblr was acting all crazy when I was making this post, so hopefully, it'll work! 😬

Also, as always, would love feedback in any form! Comment, reblog, messages! It doesn't matter. ❤️

[stellarboystyles]

From the Dining Table

hello friends <3 this is my second fic for the HS1 Masterlist that @bfharry​ , @stylesloveclub​ and I have teamed up to write for you, hope you enjoy x

2.9k angst angst angst

For the first time in a long time, Harry was alone. It was a strong contrast to his old schedule, his days were always jam packed with press interviews, meetings, radio interviews, red carpets, appearances, talk show interviews, meet and greets, concerts...He was definitely a busy bee. 

He knows he should be happy. It should be unquestionably irie to simply relax and have some time to himself, but Harry is miserable. Has been ever since her. It’s been too long since he’s seen her eyes, those pretty eyes that he could get lost in for hours gazing back at him, and her smile. God, her smile could cheer him up in his darkest days. He can’t stop thinking about her cheeks and how he used to squish them while he cooed at how adorable she was because they’re the cutest cheeks he’s ever seen and whenever she would blush around him he’d brush his thumb across her cheeks and give her butterfly kisses across her soft skin. 

He loves her sense of humor, and how she could always make him laugh. Even if he thought he was having the worst day of his life, he saw her and nothing else mattered. Thinking about her personality made his heart thump in his chest. She was so sweet and kind, and so selfless. She was always doing things for other people and she was strong, and so supportive of everything. His lifestyle, his busy schedule, his privacy, everything. 

He loves her style, he definitely finds himself wearing things that he thinks she would like. She’s the one who inspired him to jump out of his comfort zone of tight jeans and chelsea boots and explore different colors, patterns, materials, and he’s forever grateful that she showed him that he could be himself, he swears she’s the real reason he truly blossomed into his own style. Not just around her, but that he could show the world who he really was as well. And she cares so much about animals, he loves watching her interact with them, one of his favorite memories being the time that she rescued a family of bunnies from a fox in Harry’s back garden and it was quite literally the sweetest thing his eyes had ever seen. He misses her tender heart and how gentle natured she is. 

He misses how he feels fireworks every time she touches him. He misses how her lips taste, how it feels when they move against his. He misses her soft skin, and how she smells like citron and rose. He misses waking up every morning and seeing her all sleepy as he kisses her all over. He misses how she used to touch him and he feels in his bones that no one could ever make him feel the way that she did. 

He misses all of that, all of her. Every single inch of her skin, every little bit of what makes her who she is. But he doesn’t get any of her. Not anymore. Instead, he’s alone in this random hotel room and awake at four in the morning because he can’t think about sleep. If he does, all he’d dream about is her. Not that being awake is any better because she is the only thing swirling around in his brain. Flashbacks are hell, especially when he can’t stop thinking about her being on top of him right now, looking completely fucked out of her mind as she rides his cock. He’d be pressing the back of his head into the pillows and she’d touch his chest and smooth her hands down to his lower belly and she’d be doing all the things that she knows drives him fucking wild.

He can’t help himself as he starts to lightly tease himself through the white sheet covering the lower half of his body and there’s a hitch in his breath at the feeling of his fingertips stroking his cock under the thin material. His eyes flutter closed and he’s got nothing on underneath and it just makes him think of her more because he thinks of how much she loved barebacking, and Harry really fucking loved it. The feeling was indescribable, feeling her so deeply on such an intimate level was something out of this world. With every thought of her his reflexes added more pressure, his body temperature rising with every moment passing by until he’d had enough and nearly rips the sheet away from his lower torso and he’s fisting himself now, chasing his release and all he can think about now is how much better she is at the act in question, so much so that it blew Harry’s mind. He didn’t last long, but at this point he didn’t give two fucks if he had an orgasm or not, he just needed to feel something. He was left in a daze as he pushed himself off the bed and towards the bathroom.

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊

Long, hot showers were created for the sole purpose of contemplating your life, right? Or are they just for trying to cry away a broken heart. He doesn’t know the answer, nor does he know how long he stood there, before tilting his head back and letting the water splash onto his wet locks. Hot water from the shower head hitting his back. After around twenty minutes his skin was numb to the feeling. 

In the beginning he’d considered it all, but the reality? She left him, without any sort of reason. Harry’s spent weeks and weeks wracking his brain for something, anything he could’ve done so that he can apologize, make it right. Truly, he hadn’t felt that he’d done anything to upset her. So yes, he had every right to be angry. Maybe it was his fault. He’d spent endless sleepless nights staring at the ceiling of a hotel room, mostly because he couldn't bear to be home because everything reminded him of her, and his mind just couldn’t go there. His nights were spent tossing and turning, doing absolutely nothing until his friends finally convinced him to go out with them. 

He didn’t want to admit that it was better than wallowing in self pity all night, but it was. For the next few weeks, all Harry had gotten himself into a cycle. Go out, get drunk, and at the end of the night he’d always be unsatisfied. He kept telling himself he was never going out for the sole purpose to bring a girl that looked like her back to his hotel room, but that’s just what he was telling himself. Deep inside, he was struggling to feel anything. He was angry, sad, and broken.

She didn’t leave her bed for three days. Dejection mercilessly beat up her heart until it felt like there was nothing left. The heartbreak gnawed away at her. She was barely eating, couldn’t sleep and she had no one to blame but herself. She stayed huddled under the covers as she wallowed in self sorrow, knowing all too well that this was all her fault. 

It was a travesty. It should have never happened, especially not like this.

The connection they shared was unbreakable. It was evident that nothing could ever raze the bond that they created together. They made the best team, and they were inseparable. Everything was perfect. Harry was charming, loving and softhearted. 

Their love was like the ocean. It was tranquil and soothing, yet strong and deep. It was so incredibly breathtaking, but also had the intense potential to destroy. To put it simply, she was damaged. Way before she met Harry, and that was it. She thought she had it under control, she thought that they could make it. They did, for a while, but her demons caught up with her eventually. Everything heightened after she was exposed to all of it. The rumors, the paparazzi, the backlash. It triggered all the worst parts of her, the things that she had kept under control for so long. He tried to help her, tried to fix them. They both tried, but it just wasn’t working. 

Now, months later, she was here at the airport. She knew she had to go to him and try to make things right. Clutching her ticket in her hand, she slouched into her chair, staring at all the glowing red words that read “cancelled” across the board. How unlucky was she that she would be stuck at the airport, alone.

“Hi, d’you have any flights t’London for tonight?”

She could hear her heart thumping in her ears when she heard the voice at the desk a few feet away from behind her. It felt like every cell in her body was on fire, she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for what could happen yet! She was supposed to have a six hour flight to coach herself before this.

“A’right, thank you.”

Oh my god, is he gonna say something? Of course he won't, he hates me.

It felt like she didn’t know him anymore, this boy, this charming, sweet boy that she fell in love with. She was afraid of how angry he is, how bitter that she left. 

“Y/N?”

His voice was soft and hesitant, almost shaky.

Her eyes squeeze shut for a moment before looking up at him. He looked dumbfounded, at a loss for words. They couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw each other. He watched the color drain from her face, and he could feel his heart beating out of his chest. There they were, face to face in JFK Airport. Seeing each other for the first time since their downfall. 

The tension couldn’t get any thicker. Her eyes were locked onto his face, watching him give a pained expression before quickly brushing past her. 

“H, wait—”

“You don’t get t’call me tha’ anymore.” 

His voice was cold, biting back at her words over his shoulder. He didn’t stop sauntering across the airport and she struggled to keep up. 

“Please...I know I don’t deserve it, but can we talk?” She implores before pressing her lips together. “Please.”

His teeth clench before stopping in his tracks, turning around to face her. 

“Took y’long enough.” 

There was no hint of humor in his voice, no Styles charm, no cheeky smile, no dimples, nothing. 

“You look good.”

He scoffs, almost rolling his eyes because he know’s that she’s lying. He knows she’s being kind. 

“Looks can be deceiving.”

Shit.

“Right.” she nods, eyes falling down to his shoes. 

“How are you?”

“Miserable.” she answers honestly. 

“S’tha’ supposed t’be my fault?”

She felt her waterline start to sting, but he had every right to be bitter. 

“No,”

“Fuck, shouldn’t have said tha’, m’sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” she shakes her head dismissively, brushing off his apology. “I deserved that.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Are we really doin’ this right now?”

She gave him a look of desperation, silently begging him to stay. Begging him to listen, even if she didn’t deserve that from him, she knew she didn’t. Harry contemplated whether he should give her any of his time, miss his flight to listen to whatever sorry excuse for an apology she had. But, his heart was still soft for her. 

“Where were y’goin?” 

“I...I was coming to see you. I thought you’d be in London.”

She was going to London? 

“Y’were goin’ t’London?” he quirks, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

She nods. Yeah, to see you.

Harry has the biggest, yet quickest inner battle of his life. He wasn’t sure if letting you back into his house after what happened was the worst decision he’ll ever make or the best one, but he sure as hell  felt that it was the right one. 

“We can’t talk here.” he muttered, fumbling with his phone once it was pulled out of his pocket. “We can go back to mine.”

Her focus falters, eyes looking at anything but him. she hadn’t been there since…since she fucked up, to put it simply. Her nerves were on the verge of snapping into an anxiety attack.

The car ride to Harry’s house was...well, she couldn’t think of anything more awkward. Except the first moment they had stepped inside his house. Neither of them bothered to get their things out of the back of his car, the luggage quickly forgotten. 

It was evident that his energy was extremely low. The discoloration under his eyes was evident and it made her want to cry. She watches in agony as he trudged over to the fireplace mantle, fingertips padding the glass of the frame. Inside was a photo taken when he had taken you on a trip to Norway last October. The two of you were dressed in some cozy pajamas, cuddling on the sofa as Harry took the picture with his camera. 

“They weren’t rumors, if you were wondering.” 

Her heart aches at his words. She remembered the headlines that ripped at her heart. Tears started to well up in her eyes, intently listening to the broken boy in front of her. 

“I was alone, would try and drink ‘til they looked like you.” 

Look at me. I’m right here, look at me.

“Said your name.” he murmurs, eyes focused down to where he’s fumbling with his hands. “Didn’t mean too, slipped out.”

Don’t cry, please don’t cry.

“Please look at me.” she cries, desperately trying to reach him, her Harry. “Look at me.”

“Can’t.” he’s shaking his head, locks flopping in front of his face. “I...I-I can’t-” 

“Why not.” only a mere second passes by and it’s already too deafening for her to bear. “Tell me.”

“Because, you-” he gulps down a cry but tears are still filling his waterline. “You.”

It feels like time is frozen, like the only thing happening in the entire universe is this conversation. 

“What?”

“You.” he looks up and locks his eyes with hers. “It’s you, s’always gonna be you. There’s never gonna be anyone else.” 

She takes a step towards him, but he backs away and she swears he flinches and it breaks her heart.

“No, no, no. Y’don’t get t’do tha’. Don’ touch me.”

His words stung like venom inking through her veins.

“H-”

“No!” his eyes turn cold. “If you touch me, I...I won’t make it, I swear. Just- please.”

Just let me love you.

“I…” It’s too much for her to look at him, but she has to say it. He’s quiet, waiting for her to finish. 

“I’m sorry.” she cries out, squeezing her eyes closed. “I’m so sorry, I fucked up.”

“Look at me.” 

He repeats her previous words. Maybe it’s out of spite, but could she blame him? Not in the slightest. 

“You left me!” he snaps. “Why? What…” his chest is rising and falling faster than he can keep up with. “I’ve barely slept since you left, tryin’ t’think of what I did that was so awful.”

Guilt pangs through her as she watches him run his fingers through his hair in frustration, eyes averting to the floor.

“All I’ve ever done was treat y’like a princess,” he murmurs, kicking at the rug beneath his feet. “Sure, we were apart a lot, but I was starting fresh. We finally had time to do anythin’ we wanted. I thought you, of all people, would’ve wanted that.”

“I did, I-I still do.” 

“You’ve got a funny way of showin’ it.” 

She stayed silent, so he chose to pipe up again.

“Why.”

If she doesn’t say it now, she’ll never say it. This is her once chance to fix things.

“You were talking about things...moving fast, too fast,” she speaks barely above a whisper, the chipped blue polish on her nails suddenly becoming quite interesting. “And with everything that people were saying,”

“Know y’had a hard time, I know tha’. But I thought we worked through it. Then I wake up and you’re gone.”

“I got scared.” he sits down next to her as she’s talking. 

“Y’could’ve bloody told me tha’.” relief washes over him, but the temporary emotion is making him forget that the damage had already been done. “Would’ve understood.”

“I know.” she cried. “I panicked, and once I’d left, I felt like I couldn’t come back. I was so scared.”

“Y’can always come back t’me.” his voice is soft and he resists the urge to brush his thumb across her cheek. “I fuckin’ love you. Y’know that. Fuck’s sake, I was calling you, begging you for something.” he pried, not caring to wipe his eyes, now irritated from crying. “Why? Why didn’t you just talk to me?” 

Tears spilled onto your cheeks as you tried to apologize. “I wanted to. I don’t know why I didn’t, I’m so sorry.” 

“I want you to tell me everything. Tell me what scares you so we can work through those things together. Don’t just...don’t just leave.”

“It never should’ve happened that way.” she admits. “But I think maybe we just found each other at the wrong time.” she offers, and his eyes flicker to her face when he feels her fingertips graze his own. “Maybe someday, the time’ll be right for us.”

He loves her. Regardless of what she’s put him through, he loves her. 

“Tha’ time could be right now.” he speaks softly, moving his hand to hold hers. “For us.”

She looks up into his eyes, filled with hope and she moves her hands ever so slightly into his hold and he’s holding both of them now, and they're looking into each other’s eyes. 

“You think so?”

He nods, squeezing his grip gently. “Know so.” he brings her hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to them. “We can make it.”

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 23: Medical Ethics

Y’all ever been to college?

Our new friend Vigdor has just pulled a pale, twitching human leg out of a poster tube, sheepishly admitting to Valeria that it’s his own.

Valeria blinks at it. “Well, it doesn’t appear to be bleeding demons, so that’s good?”

Shoshana sticks her head in the door, and has to pause to take in the sight. “Uh, bruh? Bruh? I have questions. Is that yours? I mean, like, yes, you HAVE it, but was it attached to-“

“That’s a bit tricky? It was amputated twice.”

“Twice?!”

“Once from me, and then, well, um. Once from an amalgam of sewn together body parts?”

(Gral and Shoshana pile into the room, because Oh, Lore?)

“When I was in the swamp, we were fighting a bunch of zombies led by this particularly nasty undead guy. We called it the Wailing Wight. At first it was just the usual undead hordes, but then a local leatherworker was found, torn apart and harpooned every which way, half his limbs torn off and stolen. After that, we started getting attacked by stitched together abominations cobbled together from human and animal pieces. I was there just trying to help the villagers, being a doctor and all. But that’s when I lost my actual limbs.”

“They got stolen, like the leatherworker’s?”

“I had to chop them off. Which, for the record, is not a fun time? The Wight’s harpoon has a kind of poison that rots everything it touches. So I had to amputate or, like, die. So I cut them off and his zombies, uh, stole them. And I managed to get one back? Kind of a long story. I don’t know how I recognized it, but – I guess I know my own leg like the back of my hand? Now I’m taking it back to Sturmhearst. There’s a weird fluid inside it; I want to study what’s going on with that so we can take care of the nastyboy in the swamp.”

“Well, I am generally against nastyboys,” says Shoshana, poking his foot in the ticklish bit. It squirms at her.

We’re headed to Sturmhearst anyway, so traveling together seems reasonable. We think about taking Fun Key Shortcuts, but that could backfire spectacularly, so we’ll play it safe and go the normal, boring way.

In the morning, we head downstairs. The inn is trashed. The stalwart barkeep Rene is not there; instead there’s a young elf sweeping out what debris he can. As we grab breakfast and the young fellow thanks us over and over for saving his friend’s life, Vigdor awkwardly wanders around casting Mending on chairs and tables that got a little too close to the tentacles and chainsaws. Shoshana doesn’t really do non-destructive magic, but she slips the barkeep some gold for repairs.

Vigdor’s too lopsided for a horse, so he’s gonna hop on in our cart. He’s very taken with the Eyegis, poking at it with fascination. “You can see the blood vessels in the eyes, despite no source for a blood supply! Do they have tear ducts? Have you ever seen the shield produce tears? Can you make it cry?”

Valeria gets very uncomfortable with this line of questioning and turns the eyes back into painted ones, put off by a Weird Stranger gettin’ all up in her business. Gral distracts him by asking about his fancy metal limbs.

Vigdor goes full technobabble on how the runes and machinery work. “Well, there’s three different kind of magical actuators on each joint, and they act as conduits for the dilithium crystals-” He knows the details secondhand from Bjork and none of us speak robotics, so if he ever needs serious repairs he’ll have to bring them back to Sturmhearst for the engineers to take a look at.

Valeria knows a bit about Jotunn runesmithing, but she’s never heard of it working to this degree of precision; before, she’d only heard of stuff like boats that row themselves, or a peg leg that has a little extra articulation. These are fully actuated limbs!

Val checks if the limbs are the same metal as our space wrench, but nope, they look like completely normal everyday metals. She’s not gonna inspect further, because she has RESPECT, unlike SOME people.

(“Hey, I didn’t try to pry the eyes open or anything!” Vigdor protests.)

She does notice one thing, though: Valeria recognizes runes from most magic systems even though she doesn’t know them well enough to use; her sister studied magic for a long time, so she knows what they look like. There’s one elaborate rune that appears on both Vigdor’s forearm and leg that is of no origin she’s ever seen.  

“How long’d it take Bjork to build this thing?” Shoshana asks, squinting at Vigdor’s kneecap.

“Well, I was unconscious for a good bit of it so…between a week and 2 months? He was already working on it when I, uh, had to amputate.”

“…did you KNOW you were gonna wake up with those things on?”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah. It took a while ‘cause the original blueprints they found were for somebody, like…really short for a human or really tall for a halfling? Something in between. Bjork had to resize the whole model to fit a human.”

“He, uh, FOUND blueprints?

“I can’t imagine he’d have made blueprints for a person who didn’t exist? It was all proportioned very strangely. I don’t know too much about it, you’d have to ask Professor Bjork.”

(One of the players asks if the strange rune, perhaps, says ISTC in a language the characters don’t know. It DOES, and we’re all very pleased with ourselves for previous-campaign references.)

The long road stretches on before us, and we have plenty of time to talk as we spend a week or two heading north toward the coast. We fill Vigdor in on the four flavors of Curse and the concept of the Prisoners, and that we suspect there’s major Key nonsense going on up at the university. (Heh heh, “major key.”)

Vigdor and Shoshana bond over being locals. Why are foreigners so weird about trolls?

Vigdor really, really wants to look at Twombly’s glasses. We explain to him that the Key could take his desire for knowledge and turn him into a cackling, dimension-hopping madman with a few extra eyeballs. He still wants to play with the glasses. Valeria protectively hides the Key map, just in case, flashing her Hunt fangs at anyone who asks about it.

After like a week of pestering everybody, Vigdor gets to look at the glasses. Disappointingly, when not looking at the Key map, the colorful lenses just make everything look slightly more those colors. Maybe Gral’s lutestrings look weird, but that could be the placebo effect. He tries flipping around the many lenses in different combinations, and finds that all of them make him look absolutely ridiculous.

Eventually after many days of travel, we can smell the ocean and the distinctive stench of a large number of humans living in one place. Vigdor takes in the familiar sight of his college hometown. Shoshana is dumbfounded that this many people can live on top of each other, while Valeria thinks it’s a quaint little town.

Up to the west, Sturm Castle squats on a cliff above the city, like a big hippo of knowledge. It looks like it was once a reasonable castle shape, but it’s had new wings and towers built onto it haphazardly until it’s a weird sprawling network of jammed-together architecture. By the edge of the cliff, in one of the more sensibly-built sections, a majestic lighthouse beams out over the bay. In the city below, the largest building appears to be a grand temple, with its roof carved in the shape of an open book. The perimeter of the city is outlined by strange wooden and metal towers, two or three stories tall with conical brass roofs.

Eh. It’s only got one castle, so it can’t be that good of a city compared to Aurentium.

Our cart is briefly stopped for a quick examination at the gate by a friendly city guardsman. He’s flanked by two of the same enormous owl-masked guards we saw accompanying Quercus and Ulmus. “Hi, welcome to Sturmhearst, folks! What brings you here?”

We all awkwardly try not to look at Vigdor’s leg bag.

“I’m, uh, here to visit Dr. Emily Thorpe?” he tries.

“Oh, visiting the university. Don’t need yer life story. Where you stayin’? I can recommend some inns. Oh, and check out the Scholar’s Temple while yer here!” He hands us a brochure from the Sturmhearst Tourism Board and steps back. “ALL RIGHT BIG GUYS, LET EM THROUGH!”

The owl guards don’t move.

“Oh, uh, I mean –“ He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a whistle. “Lemme see if I can remember how the doc told me to do this.” He blows a few sharp notes on the whistle, and the owl guards promptly step off the road to let us through.

Huh.

Vigdor makes an investigation check on those guards, who definitely weren’t around back when he was in school. They’re pretty bulky for humans – no, honestly, they’d be bulky even for goliaths. He’d heard a story from Professor Bjork that the school was hiring goliath mercs and dressing them in owl masks, but the professor had sounded like he hadn’t believed it much. Supposedly they’re silent because they don’t speak the language, but Vigdor’s pretty sure Bjork speaks Jotunn, so that excuse doesn’t quite hold up.

Once we’re out of the guards’ earshot, Gral pulls a huddle. “Vigdor, the Key’s a more recent influence, so let us know about anything new or significantly more abundant – that’s where we’ll need to search.”

Vigdor hmms. “The big brass towers weren’t here before. And the owl guys didn’t used to be a thing.”

Gral cuts another glance back to the owl guards, considering. “…How much of a faux pas is it to remove a Sturmhearst person’s mask?”

“I mean, if you’re dealing with the plague, it’s kind of a dick move? And dangerous? But most people – it’s like, the same rudeness of grabbing someone’s hat or jacket. For some people it’s badge of honor or superiority, y’know, how amazing they were to get through the gauntlet of Sturmhearst. But mostly it’s a practical tool of the job. We’re not, like, afraid to show our faces.”

Gral nods. “So you wouldn’t have to duel them, then.”

“W-what?”

“Oh, with bards it’s like ‘you are not deserving of your title’ and you have to duel about it. You know, like, how dare you slander my name, I’ll have to fight you for my honor?”

“Oh, uh, no, nothing like that. The mask is proof of office, that’s all.”

Before we get investigating, though, it’s late and we should rest. Vigdor wasn’t a palling-around-town type, but he rolls a nat 20 and knows the best inn in the city – not one of those touristy places on the square; the best-kept-secret on a side street that only the locals and regulars know about.

We have a lovely night around the docks of Sturmhearst. Shoshana spends like fifteen minutes just staring out to sea, because they MAKE boats that big???? This much water even EXISTS????? There’s a dragonborn ship from Aurentium, a goliath ship from Jotunhein, a couple of Galwan freighters, and even a ship crewed by colorful macaw aarakocra. (History check: while the Aquilians mostly died out, some of the ground-based aarakocra cultures survived. Valeria’s met macaw traders before in Aurentium; they tell lots of stories and do GREAT impressions.)

Valeria, meanwhile, holies some ocean water. They say Galwan clerics swear by holy seawater; salt repels demons, right? It’s gross harbor water but, whatever, it’s holy now. She also beats a sea captain at Man-go, presumably dock style. The inn’s equipped for foreign travelers, so it’s got a whole bar of draconic and goblin spices!

Gral, meanwhile, discovers the inn is near a bath house and enjoys finding out what a sauna is.

Morning comes, and Sturmhearst U awaits. Vigdor knows the main campus has the colleges of Engineering, Science, and Medicine, while the satellite campus across the bay houses the college of Ethics, which includes humanities like economics and history.

Valeria rolls for Order of the Rose knowledge. The Order actually has an arrangement with Sturmhearst when they’re working in Valdia – whenever the Order is sent on disaster relief, some Sturmhearst ethicists are sent to help coordinate. Valeria’s never worked with them personally, but the impression she’s gotten from her fellow knights is Not Great. From what she’s heard, they’re supposed to do triage and help direct the knights, but it seems like they spend the whole time sitting around debating absolutely horrible things. “Hey, if we brewed up some necromancy, could we use the skeletons of plague victims to transport supplies without spreading the infection?” Apparently they just sit around in corners debating whether that kind of shit is kosher or not, without ever actually DOING anything.

Also ethicists wear white instead of black like most Sturmhearst scholars, which is just pretentious. We then poke fun at an Order of the Rose knight calling anyone else pretentious.

Vigdor studied at the College of Medicine; he’s a doctor. But that’s not where he’s taking the leg.

“Why not Medicine? I mean, it’s a human body part, innit?” Shoshana asks.

“It’s…I have some concerns…regarding the, um. So, along with this leg, my arm was stolen, right? Not long after the arm was stolen, the sewn-together amalgams got a lot, uh, cleaner.”

We stare at him.

“…as if whatever stitched them together had my medical training.”

…oh.

“I’m a little hesitant taking that info to the College of Medicine,” he admits.

“Why?”

“There’s a lot of ‘for the greater good’ stuff with the College of Medicine sometimes. The College of Ethics keeps them in check. Anyway, there’s actually this thaumochemist I want to take a look at it.”

(We’d know the discipline as alchemy, but she hates that. She’ll go on a whole tirade about it. Somebody yells “Full Metal Thaumochemist” and we accidentally take a commercial break. We’ll never get tired of that joke.)

More of those owl guards are at the door, supervised by a businesslike white-coated member of the College of Ethics. His mask is a bit more abstract than the ones we’re used to; not modeled after a bird face like the regular scholars’. He lets Vigdor in with no problem, though he’s a bit suspicious of the rest of us. We’re with a doctor, though, so he’ll let it slide. “Welcome to Sturmhearst, may your visit be enlightening.” He does the same whistle we heard before and the guards step aside. Gral’s a string guy, he can figure out the notes easily enough but he doesn’t whistle.

“Nothing goes on here without Ethics knowing about it, huh,” Gral observes.

More owl guards are stomping around, some carrying heavy objects. Vigdor knows where he’s going, but asks an owl guard for directions, as an experiment. The owl guard doesn’t even notice him. He steps in front of the guard, who just steps around him very politely.

The castle is a nightmare to navigate, like Hoeska, but we have an expert tour guide. “The old keep, the part that used to be a castle – that’s where all the 101 classes are and the whole working hospital. All the additions are laid out super weird, and then there’s the tunnels underneath. The Chem students had WILD parties down there, they brewed up all SORTS of stuff. The lighthouse is a real lighthouse, but it’s also where admin is, and the dean’s and headmaster’s offices. Oh! DO NOT cross the librarians. Each college has its own library? Like, theoretically they share the whole collection, but which college keeps which books is kind of a blood sport…”

Shoshana and Gral hang back, feeling out of place. “Bards don’t really have a college, exactly?” Gral explains. “It’s more of a pilgrimage. I met the elders of each village and they imparted wisdom upon me?”

Shosh feels like an uneducated hick even by that standard.

We take a hairpin turn in one of the Science buildings and run into Professor Quercus! Or at least someone with a bird mask and a similar voice, chatting with some other masked scholar. “Ah! Yes! We made a lot of excellent discoveries before we started to run into problems – you see, there hadn’t been an event in some time, but if we could get in there to the source, we could really – well, my goodness! These are the people I was telling you about, who gave me such wonderful notes!” Quercus turns to us, sounding rather delighted. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you here. Welcome to the world of knowledge! What brings you here? I thought you were having adventures and derring-do!”

“Well, it turns out our adventures led here!” Gral tells him.

Quercus nods enthusiastically. “I’d show you around, but I rather need to speak to the bursar! If you need anything, I’m sure you can find my offices without too much problem. And please, if you’ve encountered any interesting monsters, I’d love to hear details! Especially if you have samples!” Despite his keen excitement, Professor Quercus rolls a four and fails to notice our Shusva accessories.

“If you ever need a cup of tea and a biscuit, you’re welcome to stop by my office! I’d be more than happy to speak with you! And if you could do me a favor – well, I wouldn’t mind having you with me when I speak to the bursar! See, our expedition to Holzog has hit a bit of a snag. The events with that mist stopped happening, you see. Luckily, we managed to identify which house you were going to, and we were all set to investigate, but then the Baroness put a squadron of those damnable Condotierri to prevent us getting in – “

Gral shrugs, deliberately casual. “I don’t know why you’d go back; there’s not much to see besides what’s already in the notes.”

(Vigdor immediately rolls insight to see if Gral is lying. Unfortunately for him, bards are excellent liars.)

“Anyway. The bursar’s giving me an earful about continuing to fund the expedition. I’m considering withdrawing from Holzog and asking him to redirect the funds into a different project! For example, lots of interesting monsters have been seen around Barroch lately!”

Yes, definitely, we want him to go somewhere that’s not a Tempting Key Portal. Valeria and Gral tag-team Persuasion checks to sell him on interesting cases of monsters we’ve heard of around Barroch. If we’re fuzzy on the details – well, all the more reason to have someone get out there and take a closer look!

Quercus is rather taken by the idea. “If you would, Mr. Duu –“

“Um, actually, Duu is the tribe, my family’s name is-“

“-yes, if you could write me some letters, I might find it useful making the acquaintance of the locals while setting up camp. Sturmhearst hasn’t established an official relationship to your people yet’”

Gral agrees to write up a formal letter explaining the mission of Sturmhearst and the expedition to make introductions a bit smoother; the word of a bard will go a long way in gaining the cooperation of the orcs of Barroch. He’ll do a personal letter of introduction for Quercus, and a general letter to Shieldeater’s administration to explain who the heck these weird bird people are.

“Wonderful! Bring it by my office!” He gives us directions that make NO sense to anyone but Vigdor. We’re pretty sure several of those compass directions aren’t real words?

“Oh, and if you see an angry tall woman stomping around, tell her I’m not here! She’s mad at me for some reason I can’t discern. Good day!”

He scuttles off, presumably to hide.

We definitely want the gossip on that – Ulmus was mad at him about funding, and she definitely dissed his field of study. Is this what academia is like?

Vigdor confirms that the professors have all kind of weird beefs, interdepartmental politics, and personal feuds. “One of my professors gave me a B- in amputation – shows what he knows – purely because I was taking some classes outside the College of Medicine and he got all offended. It’s a lot of politics and bullshit, they’re all more concerned about their careers and publishing than actually important stuff.”

We find a door with a brass plaque: Dr Emily Thorpe, Thaumochemist. There’s a paper list tacked to her door with a list of courses: “Intro to Potion Brewing,” “Principles of Alchemy Thaumochemistry”

Vigdor knocks. “Yes, who’s there? Come in!” a voice calls.

“It’s Vigdor! Vigdor Gavril!”

“Ah, Vigdor!” A halfling woman in the requisite bird mask waves from behind a counter where she’s handling a set of proper Movie Science bubbling beakers and flasks. “Yes, you sent me that letter! You had something ‘interesting’ for me!”

“Yes, and you will see why I couldn’t be more detailed!”

She notices his metal arm as he starts pulling open his heavy waterproofed case. “Oh! I heard that Professor Bjork was giving you his prototype! How’s it working?”

“They’re loud and heavy and uncomfortable sometimes, but I have limbs! Can’t complain! But then I, uh, found one of my limbs again.”

He goes over to an open table and pulls out his entire-ass leg with a flourish, plus vials of hair and blood and strange unidentified liquids. Her eyes widen.

“Ah, this is yours!” She watches his toes wiggle. “Well, you don’t see that every day.”

“Yeah, I found it stitched to some kind of unholy undead abomination.”

“And that explains the Knight of the Rose. Hello, Kyr.”

“Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service!”

“Dr. Emily Thorpe, at your service as well, I guess? Pardon the mess in my lab, it’s not much but it’s home. Hand me that vial?” She pulls out a syringe and takes a sample of not blood, but oily black liquid, from the leg. “It will take some time, but I can write up a thaumaturgical profile without much difficulty. Do you mind if I keep it?”

“You can hang on to it. But I would appreciate discretion.”

“Yes, this will stay between me, your friends, and – oh, this is Hugo, he’s my teaching assistant. He’s been helping since the school was mobilized.” She turns to Vigdor’s clearly uneducated hick friends (not you, Valeria, you’re very fancy) and explains:

“In times of crisis, the University turns from education to innovation. Were this a disease, we’d be researching cures! If demonic, we’d be researching weapons or dimensional banishment. We haven’t really received direct orders this time, so everybody is doing their own thing, which I can’t say I mind. Mostly I’ve been helping other researchers with the practical application of their theorems.”

She scribbles out a hasty list. “Hugo, if you can go to the library and put these books on order? The Vigmar and the Auspelius especially would be useful, but don’t let the librarians kill anyone over them. And the Principles of Advanced Anatomy – tell them I won’t ask. But I do need it.” The grad student nods and hustles out of the room.

(Shoshana insights, out of paranoia. Hugo’s a good egg, though he might refer to thaumochemistry as alchemy.)

“Now, Dr. Gavril, do you want this leg back? How intact-“

“Want it back? Like, in the abstract, or on my body?”

She pulls out a vial of bubbling acid. “I’d like to put some of this on it and I’d like to see what happens.”

He blanches slightly. “Uh. Um. I have some proprietary-“

“Aw, no acid then,” she grumbles, stowing the acid with an audible sigh.

“Only do something you would do to living person’s leg. That they would survive!”

“How would I know? I’m a chemist, this is only, like, my second dead person!” She pauses. “…well, fifth.”

Shoshana starts looking around at all the alchemy equipment curiously. Everything here is clearly labeled with numbers, and letters that feel like numbers, and complex formulae, which hedgewitch potionery doesn’t really account for.

There’s a knock at the door. “Ah, that must be Hugo. Come in!”

Valeria instinctively body-blocks the leg from view.

It is not Hugo. In walk 3 white-clad ethicists. The gentleman at the front is in fancier robes – we suspect he’s the kind of fellow who has tenure – and he wears a powdered judge’s wig atop his mask. We immediately don’t like it. His two companions peer around the lab – one has a jeweler’s loupe built into the lens of his mask, and the other is carrying a big chime with runes carved into it, clearly a magic item of some sort.

“Dr Thorpe,” the leader intones.

“Sorbus,” she replies disdainfully.

“I see you have guests, is now a bad time?”

“Is it ever a good time?” Emily makes a point of tending to her samples and beakers busily.

“I suppose not. We have come to ask a few follow-up questions. Have you been visited at all by Professor Matthias Macker? Has he followed up on the project you were working on together?”

“I told you, no! I had no potions strong or precise enough for what he needed, and he’s never spoken to me since. That was months ago!”

“And no one has seen him since then. You understand why we need to know what you discussed.”

“Yeah, not since you quarantined the whole surgical wing!”

“That is not what I’m asking about. Has Macker’s assistant Greta Ruble visited you?”

“No. She’s a good kid, though, don’t hassle her.”

“We are simply making sure she is not a danger.”

Emily sputters angrily. “A danger to who?!”

“I cannot tell you that.” He turns to Valeria. “Kyr, it is always a pleasure to see a member of the Order here. I suppose if you’re here we can be assured nothing… unethical is happening,” he says, unpleasantly oily. “I am Professor Rigmor Sorbus of the College of Ethics; I lecture on legal and judicial ethics. These are my assistants, Charles and Pippin.”

Valeria bows with the precise degree of politeness required. “Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. In these times of mobilization, it falls to us as ethicists to supervise our colleagues’ noble efforts. Please, I implore you: if you see anything untoward or suspiciously unusual, I request you report it to the nearest representative of the College of Ethics.”

Emily butts in. “What happened to Eric Pelbort, his other assistant?”

“Mr. Pelbort has transferred to the College of Ethics and is assisting us with some research. We will let you know if that changes.” He tells her dismissively. “Kyr Argent, the College of Ethics has always been proud of our long association with the Order, and I would like to extend our deepest condolences for the tragedy of the Crusade. Should you have need of any assistance whatsoever, do not hesitate to ask. Our offices are on the satellite campus across the bay. If you were to visit, I’m sure many would love to speak to a paladin of the Order of the Rose.”

“We have business here, but I might be able to make time to stop by,” she equivocates.

“Very well. I will let you all get back to whatever it is you’re doing with that leg,” Sorbus says, turning neatly on his heel and taking his leave, his toadies hurrying in his wake.

(Yes, you guessed it: That was Professor Rowan, with his Tort Wig and his assistants Pip Loupe and Chime Charles.)

“Those guys give me the creeps,” Emily grumbles. “They used to be fine, but lately they’ve been doing this whole inquisitor act.”

Vigdor’s always known these guys as douchey blowhards. But now they’re douchey blowhards with AUTHORITY.

There’s always been a divide between Ethics and the other three colleges roughly the size of the harbor! The sciences don’t believe in debate, they believe in experimentation! Anyone who can spend an entire week talking without action is wasting time and breath. The College of Medicine thinks even less of them – they just get in the way of progress!

(IRL we all respect medical ethics, but Sturmhearst WAS founded on a fine tradition of graverobbing and leeches.)

Vigdor is primarily a surgeon, or he was, when he had two fully functional hands. (Two players at once: “HE GOT DR STRANGED!”) He had quite a few classes with Macker, the chair of the surgery department. Most people didn’t like the guy, except his surgical grad students who would defend him to the death. A bit of a hardass about proper procedure, but that’s probably not a bad quality for a surgeon. He was a local institution, so it’s pretty alarming he’s somehow gone rogue.

“His whole lab was quarantined?”

“The whole teaching wing, actually,” Emily tells us.

“Are there people in there? Some kind of sickness?”

“Not that I’ve heard. Ethics just put guards outside the labs and blocked everyone from going in. They’ve done it to a couple places around the school recently. The excuse is that someone was doing ‘unsafe experimentation’ that’s ‘poisoned the area’ or something?”

Wack. “How long have these quarantines lasted?”

“They don’t really end? A couple stopped after a few months, but some have been there for a year! Nobody goes in or out. Sometimes the white coats go in, but it’s pretty rare and they don’t stay long.”

“Is that what all the guards are for? Where’d they all come from?” Vigdor asks.

“Medicine used to be the ones, uh, hiring them.” (A quick insight roll notes that she hesitates on the phrase “hiring.”) “Lots of them still answer to whoever they were originally assigned to. But recently Dean Chidor from the College of Ethics took over that whole program, so a lot of the newer ones answer primarily to the ethicists. I mean, they all dress the same, so it’s kinda hard to tell? I haven’t asked a lot of questions, I’ve been trying to keep my head down since the whole thing with Macker.”

“What actually happened with him?”

“He’d been acting weird for a while,” she confides as she starts sticking pins in the leg and wiring them to a voltage generator. “He’d been working on something, some kind of extreme surgery – I think he was looking into a method of surgically removing Curse corruption. He was hitting roadblocks, though; he called in me and Alma Ulmus, who’s a College of Medicine bigwig.”

“Yeah, we met her in Bad Herzfeld!”

“I heard she’s here again, stalking around the halls complaining about funding. She knows more about his project than I do. Anyway, Macker sent me requirements for a healing potion he was gonna administer as part of some surgical procedure. I couldn’t get anything as powerful or precise as he needed. I’m a thaumochemist; I don’t know medicine that well. So it was beyond me to do that amount of gross tissue damage repair as controllably as they wanted it. I mean, I made some pretty nice innovations as far as the theory of potioncrafting, I’m hoping to get published as soon as it goes to peer review.

“But I couldn’t do what he needed, and eventually I got shut out of the project. Then one day he vanished. Alma set off for Bad Herzfeld and Macker stopped coming out of his lab. His assistants were still going in and out, but not long after that, the ethicists quarantined the place.”

“Has anyone else been quarantined?” Valeria asks.

“People from all three colleges got hit. I dunno about other ethicists, I haven’t heard about them quarantining anything of their own. But everyone else has. A group of engineering students were building a defense system to be deployed out to the Scar, and all of them got quarantined. Here in my department, Dr. Vilman – remember him? Stupid goatee, did a lot of stuff with crystals? – got shut down. Sometimes they quarantine the whole lab; sometimes they just shut down a project and everyone working on it gets a ‘guest lecture position’ over in Ethics. Sorbus said they got one of Macker’s assistants, Eric Pelbort. He had another one, Greta Ruble, but I guess she’s given them the slip.”

Emily’s got experiments to do on that leg, so we’ll let her get to it. As we head out, Gral asks one last question. “What’s up with those guards, by the way? Why do they only respond to those whistles?

“Uhhhh,” she says, as we fail our persuasion check. “They, er, don’t speak very good Valdian. Mostly foreigners, goliaths, the like. The whistles get their attention.”

Gral sighs and doesn’t push it. Vigdor’s already making plans to pickpocket a whistle. Valeria, since she has a direct invite to talk to the ethicists, considers the unheard-of paladin approach of Just Asking Them Directly.

First, though, Vigdor wants to check out the quarantine of Macker’s lab; he knew that professor well, and we’re all curious what’s been going down.

We walk on over to the surgical wing to case the joint. There’s a single owl guard blocking the hallway, presiding over a small barricade. A pleasant sandwich board sign states “Area quarantined by College of Ethics, apologies for the inconvenience.”

We try to walk in and the enormous guard holds out a hand to stop us. Shoshana tries to wiggle around him, like a cat trying to get at your dinner, but he impassively blocks her every move.

Gral tries a smoother approach. He begins with small talk; the guard doesn’t even twitch. He starts asking prying questions about the surgical ward. No response. Fine, then: he switches to Orcish, a sinister undertone weaving through his voice as he uses Words of Terror.

An insight roll reveals completely unchanged body language.

“Either they’re immune to fear or not a humanoid,” Gral reports back. “Not a single emotion. Definitely not goliath mercenaries.”

“Tryin’ to talk your way into the surgical wing?” says another chatty passerby. “Good luck. They got all the medical cadavers locked up in there and they won’t let us in.”

(Cadavers? Oh shit, we bet that’s the guard factory, theorize the players.)

“Oh, are you a med student?”

“Yeah. I work with Professor Herberts, or I used to, anyway. We needed a couple cadavers to do this comparison study about spleens; we got some weird ones from out in the wood, we compare spleens to see if place with thing don’t worry about it; need control spleen. And then these BIG DUMB IDIOTS wouldn’t let us in, and Herbert got transferred to the College of Ethics all of a sudden. He’s been gone a couple months.”

“How long do professors usually transfer for?” asks Gral.

“I mean, they usually pop over to give a lecture or two and come back by the end of the day.”

(Vigdor happens to remember that the College of Ethics also runs an asylum. They live in a big spooky castle and do dissections with guts and stuff, it can do a number on your head! Some of the ethicists have branched into the field of psychology. No reason to mention this when people are having extended stays on the ethics campus, of course…)

The student shrugs. “I gotta get to lecture. If you manage to get in there, any chance you can bring me back a couple spleens?”

We wave goodbye noncommittally, though Vigdor insists he can pop a spleen out of a corpse like a yolk from an egg. He’s a good surgeon!

Anyway, Vigdor went to school here, and the dice are on his side; he knows a side path through an old abandoned classroom into the surgical suite. He pops the lock on the door easily; all the undergrads used to go this way when slipping into lecture late, to get past the TA keeping track of tardies.

The guard is in earshot but facing the other direction, and he’s not even blinking, much less scanning around. Gral casts Silence on us and our very clanky party slips by easily.

Shosh sticks her head into the TA’s office. Nothing really stands out, but she swipes some interesting-looking notes from the desk drawers to look at later.

Meanwhile, Gral and Vigdor go into Macker’s office. The desk is an absolute mess, which is very unlike the guy Vigdor used to know. There are wheeled chalkboards crammed into the office, covered in scribbles and anatomical diagrams. Paging through the notes and glancing over the chalkboard, Vigdor makes a decent medicine check and can at least figure out what problem Macker was working on.

Based on what Dr. Emily told us, Macker’s trying to develop a surgical procedure. The issue is that whatever he’s doing would cause so much physical trauma that it’d kill the patient, and he’s looking for some way to prevent that. There are lists of healing options: formulas, spells, potions, nonmagical stabilization methods to keep the patient alive while various tissues are extracted from the body.

Gral’s unimpressed. Healing methods? That’s pretty tame for forbidden knowledge.

To Vigdor’s experienced eyes, this stuff looks mega-advanced and highly experimental, but Gral’s right – it’s not anything you’d scramble to censor.

Weirdly enough, the place doesn’t look ransacked, only disheveled and a little dusty. Macker’s notes haven’t been moved since he was here. Maybe this isn’t what the ethicists were after?

We head to cadaver storage while Valeria keeps watch. Cadaver storage is creepy as hell, but only because it’s, y’know, a room full of cadavers. A lot of the bodies, kept stable with Gentle Repose, appear to be Cursed, but that’s hardly weird. What’s so crazy they’d keep it hidden from everyone?

Vigdor opens the door to the dissection labs, Gral’s Silence deadening any ominous warning he might have had from the room beyond. Yes, the table here’s been recently used, and the bizarre symbols scrawled on the chalkboards have spilled onto the surrounding floor and walls, but Vigdor’s eyes are drawn to where the chalkboard peels away like skin to reveal a strange, multicolored, impossible space. The floor begins to take the shape of a stone hand that projects out into the shimmering void, joining a daisy-chain of enormous hands that form a walkway out to a marble platform floating in space.

Gral takes his Silence spell with him and runs to get Valeria.

Eyes starry, watching entire worlds and impossible shapes spinning through iridescent mists, Vigdor takes his first heady hit of Key taint.

As we cut session, Valeria considers that the ethicists may actually have a point.

[unholyhelbig]

Red | #HW204

Prompt: Possession 

Summary:  Aubrey and Beca take their youngest daughter to a child Psychologist when weird things start happening around their new house.

Read on Ao3 Here!

Aubrey Posen had expected a lot more from the tiny office that rested on the third floor of a business park. The door had a frosted glass pane with fancy gold writing and dark stained wood, but the little waiting room that rested right behind it was cold and dark. It made her skin itch. This place was meant for children- wasn’t it?

The only indication that anyone younger than fifty-four attended sessions here was a small box sandwiched between two leather upholstered chairs. It was a forest green and contained a couple of picture books and markers that had long ago run out of ink. Aubrey instinctively pulled her daughter flush against her and passed her a phone to keep her occupied while Beca checked them in.

Her wife was just as nervous as she was, though, she hid it better. Beca had always been the positive one in the relationship. Though they both saw the world through the same colored glass, Beca admired while Aubrey shattered. She had a way with her words and made the unpleasant receptionist crack a charming smile.

Beca said a few more things that she couldn’t hear over the low hum of the game that Marley had stumbled upon. It was something with bright colors to captivate her, other than the slate grey walls and dying plant in the corner. It needed to be watered. 

Beca finally flopped down into the chair next to them. She smiled nervously at their daughter, who had the same stormy blue eyes. She smelled of melted snow and vanilla lip balm. She had grabbed one of the informational pamphlets from the counter; Your child and their emotions.

What it really boiled down to was ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions that ruled out if Marley was a sociopath. Aubrey didn’t want to look at it and Beca shoved it into the pocket of her coat, blanching because she had realized her mistake. Their daughter had switched to another app on Aubrey’s phone.

“What are you coloring, Monkey?” Beca asked, trying to keep things light.

“A tree,”

“That’s neat. Can I see it?”

Marley nodded with a wide grin and passed the phone over to her mother. Beca zoomed out on the picture; it was a nice scene that reminded them fondly of the home they had moved into a few months ago. While it was still summer, Beca had put up a tire swing much to Aubrey’s safety objections.

The photo had a white picket fence and a large oak like the one in their front yard. It didn’t have a tire swing, but two long sections of rope connecting a plank of wood to one of the limbs of the tree. Beca let out a silent sigh of relief. It looked fairly normal. She praised Marley and handed the phone back.

Aubrey shrugged apprehensively at her and gave a weak smile. Maybe things would be alright. Though, both of them were thinking, as they breathed in stale office air, that they weren’t going to be. They had been to a couple of specialists that lead them here. Doctor Beale was one of the top-rated child Psychologists in the area.

“The Posen’s?” They had all glanced up at once, Marley quickly going back to her coloring while both parents stood from the seats. The leather made too much noise and Beca glanced back at it nervously before her cheeks blanched.

A woman with a mane of copper hair stood in the vacant hallway. She was dressed casually in a navy blue sweater and a pair of black slacks. She had a kind face and striking ocean eyes. Aubrey instantly relaxed in her presence and forgot about the state of the office in an instant.

“I’m Beca,” her wife extended a hand first “This is my wife Aubrey, but you probably already knew that.”

Chloe chuckled sweetly “Yes, I did. And this must be Marley?”

Their daughter was shy. She had abandoned the task on her phone and clung to Beca’s pant leg instead. She blinked up at the pretty stranger and tucked her face into the fabric. Doctor Beale didn’t’ seem deterred by this at all.

“If you guys would like to follow me, we can get started.” Chloe didn’t’ wait for an answer. Instead, she turned and they began to walk down a hallway that was much like the main lobby- devoid of color. Beca had scooped Marley up, she pressed her cold nose against the nave of her neck. “I’m assuming you haven’t done this before?”

“No, never,” Aubrey answered.

They passed a few doors that were the same solid oak as the one upfront. They had been to a lot of pediatricians, and neurologists. Neither of them could find anything wrong physically. They had had a long conversation about mental health before they were pushed in this direction.

All four of them stopped in front of another similar door. This one, Doctor Beale, had keys to. She turned the lock and pushed it open. The lack of color in the waiting room had been culminated and thrown in here; it was a large room with every type of toy and art supply imaginable.

The walls were a friendly yellow and little foam puzzle pieces made the flooring under their feet malleable. Beca’s mouth was propped open almost as wide as Marley’s and Aubrey couldn’t help but smile easily at that. There was a large mirror propped up on the side of the wall and posters of animals and mountains around the space that hadn’t been taken up.

“She can play for a while if she wants, we still have a few things to discuss before we start.”

Marley still looked apprehensive, so Beca worked her usual magic. She had a soft, yet commanding voice. “Marls, do you want to play for a couple of minutes?” Their daughter whimpered and dug her nose further into her neck “Oh, come on now, look at all those cars. Don’t you want to check them out?”

It took a couple more seconds, but she eventually let Beca set her down before moving over to the large rug in the corner that had a grid of maps stitched into its fabric. She quickly grasped at a white matchbox car and started driving it around the sharp corners. Chloe leads them closer to the door without exiting into the hallway.

“Which one of you is Marley more comfortable with?” Chloe asked in a hushed tone.

Beca made her stance rigid while Aubrey lifted her chin towards her wife. “She’s the fun mom.”

“Right,” Chloe smiled despite herself “Beca, would you be alright with staying here with Marley while Aubrey and I watch from the other room?”

“Sure?” She shrugged apprehensively “You just want us to play?”

“That’s exactly what I want you to do. The biggest thing we can do here is observe her behavior. From what I’ve seen so far she’s a normal, highly functioning five-year-old. From what your file describes, that tends to change drastically in certain situations. Am I correct?”

Aubrey had suddenly gotten cold in the small little room. Yes, Chloe Beale was right more than she would like to admit. Their daughter was a sweet and loving girl. She was outgoing and confident, but every aspect of that could flip on a dime.

“We thought it was because of the move,” Beca sounded out, looking over at Marley. She had grabbed another car from the shelf and slammed them both together, making a crashing sound “But she’s gotten violent.”

“She hears voices,” Aubrey said.

“Voices?”

“We chalked it up to an overactive imagination at first. Both of us were so tired from fixing the place up that we didn’t’ see the warning signs, I guess. She didn’t like her room. She said that was a tall man with a funny hat that would bother her at night.”

Chloe nodded and shoved her hands into her pockets as she had suddenly gotten cold as well. “Has this stopped?”

“Eventually she didn’t talk about it anymore.” Beca explained “We thought we were doing the right thing by making her stay in there instead of sleeping in bed with us. But that’s when the weird behavior started.”

“What kind of weird behavior is she exhibiting?”

Aubrey looked over at the young girl as she played with a few more cars. She had created a traffic jam and spoke silently under her breath. They couldn’t hear what words she had been forming and Aubrey figured that that was a good thing.

“She gets this vacant look in her eyes sometimes… that’s all it was at first, and we thought she was just getting distracted. She started standing at the foot of our bed and just staring, for hours.”

Chloe quirked a brow “You set up camera’s?”

“We had no choice. Things were vanishing around the house, expensive things like power tools and then little things like keys. We had just moved in so we figured we might have an intruder or something. But it was Marley every single time. That’s why we decided to get her checked.”

The psychologist thought for what seemed like a while, they listened to the squeaking of the car wheels and Beca started to trace her eyes along the posters. She felt like she was in trouble. Instead, she was seeking help.

“Right. Aubrey, if you would come with me.” The woman nodded and glanced at her daughter for a sparing moment “Beca you just have to keep Marley playing. If you can, direct her to the little table in the corner.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” She said nervously.

“Good. Is there any way you can get her to talk about her room?”

This would be a little more difficult, but she nodded nevertheless. Beca knelt down next to Marley and pointed to the nearest car with question in her eyes. Aubrey watched for a few more moments before Chloe touched her shoulder gently and navigated her back into the depressing hallway.

They walked a couple more feet to the next door. This one, Chloe didn’t’ need a key to; it was smaller and darker than the lobby and the colder than the room they had just exited. There were two chairs facing a glass window and a little table that attempted to be spruced up with bottled water and a plant that was in even worse condition than the one she had seen before.

Aubrey wandered up to the window and stared through the glass. It was in the same position as the mirror had been. She could see her wife and daughter talking quietly by the rug that they had left them at. The psychologist took a seat in one of the chairs and waited for Aubrey to do the same.

“This doesn’t feel a bit… invasive to you?” Aubrey sat down, the wood was frigid.

“I’m a psychologist, Mrs. Posen, it’s my job to be invasive. We need to figure out what’s spurring your daughter's recent behavior.”

Aubrey supposed that’s why they had paid for the hour. She was hypocritical, worrying about sitting behind two way glass when they hid a camera between the stuffed animals on Marley’s dresser. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched carefully. Beca had somehow coaxed their daughter to the small table closest to the wall.

She went to the wall and grabbed a handful of markers and paper before struggling to sit in one of the little chairs. Her knees were nearly up to her ears, and in any other situation, Aubrey would have laughed.

Beca uncapped a brown marker first. She started to sketch the outline of a tree, stretching it to the top of the paper. It was nearly identical to the photo that Marley had been coloring earlier. She began to use that classic charm of hers.

“This looks kind of like the tree out front, huh?”

Marley was focused on dragging a navy marker against the page “Mm-hm,”

“Do you like the new house, Marls?”

Their daughter stopped the tip of the marker, and a large circle of ink started to spill from the hard-pressed gesture. She frowned and drew in a shallow breath. Beca had stopped coloring too. She watched with apprehension like they were sitting at the kitchen table once more- a steak knife within reach for them both.

“Was that fear?” Aubrey asked, sinking further into her seat. Her mouth was dry and it would have been easy to reach to her left for one of those water bottles, but she didn’t.

“No, it was anger. Does she get that look often?”

“Everyday.”

Beca slowly brought her eyes back down to the paper and started to color in the sun at the corner of the page. She was pressing too hard, hard enough to almost rip the paper. It was like she could taste the charged energy in the room.

“The house is nice. I like my room. I didn’t, but I do now.”

Marley never took her eyes away from the woman. She was speaking through a clenched jaw. Aubrey didn’t even know that a child could do that, that they had enough stress to show it like this. She understood nightmares and normal phobia’s, but this felt too… adult.

Chloe was writing something down on her notepad, but she leaned forward in her seat as if they were watching a movie. Aubrey could read the sudden fear that rolled in waves off of Beca. This wasn’t her normal energy, and Marley smiled wickedly at this.

“Yeah? Do you… still see that man?”

Beca had pushed it as far as she could. She had abandoned her picture altogether and focused her entire attention on their daughter. These past few months had been filled with exhaustion and odd fear, and prying sharp objects from little fingers.

One of them had slept in the rocking chair by the door each night. It was uncomfortable and made them stiff, but they had a keen eye on the door to their bedroom. That same steak knife that was nearly grasped from the table earlier had been close to Aubrey’s throat one night. She woke to the feeling of cold metal and then a thin line of warm blood.

They hadn’t told Chloe that. It wouldn’t be in the file that she had gotten of them. Everything else had been disclosed but that one night, the night that scared them the most would remain right where it was forever.

Marley nodded slowly, “He’s my friend. I like his hat.”

“What does the hat look like?” Marley squints her eyes, and Beca tried again “Can you show me?”

Marley looked down at the art supplies in front of her. It was a random pile of markers and a few colored pencils. She grabbed a clean sheet of paper and searched over her options with new vigor. She had been given a task and Beca was watching her with keen eyes.

“No, I can’t do it.” She whispered with frustration.

“Why not, sweetie?”

Marley slammed her little hand down on the table and the markers and pencils and little cup that held them jumped with the extra force. Beca tensed up her shoulders but figured quickly that this was better than something being thrown across the room.

“There’s no red.” She growled out, gripping the cheap plastic table “I can’t draw my friend if there’s no red. It’s his favorite color, he’s always wearing it.”

“I can get you a red, Marley,”

“No. It’s too late.” Their daughter glanced up from the white paper, her eyes filled with that same primal anger as the night with the knife. Marley turned her eyes towards the mirror and Aubrey felt herself freeze. Chloe gripped the note pad until little dents marked the lines neatly.

Marley moved her small little finger against the length of her neck, somehow staring directly at Aubrey with a vacant expression and a truly vile expression. “He has red here. He has red everywhere.”

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 16)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 3565

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five days later...

Tonight was the night. 

Your night. Your hands were slightly shaking as you went through the essays the students had written for an assignment. You took a deep breath and stood up, and just then, Spence called, making you jump.

“Hello?” you answered shakily. 

“Hey, you okay? You sound…”

“I’m fine, Spence. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to let you know we got the unsub. Only took six days. Might’ve taken three if you were here.”

“Yeah, well I’m not,” you huffed.

“I wish you were.”

“Do you, Spence? Or is JJ enough?” you snapped.

He sighed. “Y/N, please, we’ve been over this. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but JJ and I are not a thing. I don’t feel anything for her.” 

“Have you stopped working with her?”

“As much as I can, yes. I’ve asked Emily that we not be left alone on cases.”

“Did you tell her why?”

“I told her what JJ said and that I was uncomfortable and didn’t want JJ to think anything or assume anything that wasn’t true.” 

You bit your lip and slowly nodded. 

“I can’t talk right now, could we talk later?” you tried, fighting back tears. You were so conflicted.

Did you not want to talk to Spencer because of your worry and insecurity… or was it because you were so terrified you slip up? Or because you felt physically ill any time you got on the phone, knowing you were hiding yourself from your amazing husband. Spencer didn’t deserve a wife that lied like this. But there was no winning.

Either you lie and keep Spencer blissfully ignorant, and you could keep the world safe from monsters.

Or you tell the truth to Spencer, lose the love of your life, and the world is in more danger. 

If this was how you felt on the phone, how could you ever face Spencer for years and hide victims, bodies, murders, crimes…? How could you do that? 

“No, Y/N, I want to talk now. I know you don’t have class for two more hours. Please. Just… listen to me. I love you, so much. I love you more than anything. There is nothing between JJ and I now, nor has there ever been. You know this. I can’t explain why JJ waited until you’re gone to tell me how she felt. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, alright? But I made a mistake, okay? I miss you, so much.” 

You shook your head, your lips pressed together. “I miss you too,” you confessed. At least this was the truth. 

“So can we please move past this? Please?”

“Yes, yeah… I think we can.”

A sigh of relief came from the other side of the phone. “Thank you so much, sweetie. How’s the case by the way? Haven’t talked about it much.”

“Hit a brick wall.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You want us to look?”

“And admit defeat to the director? No thanks.” 

“Mmm, well, alright. Well, Garcia said to tell you she says hello.”

“Tell her I said hi back,” you said back, fighting tears. 

“I will…. Y/N, is everything okay? Do we need to go away? Just get some vacation and go somewhere, away from work…”

“That sounds nice… but um, maybe when I’m done with classes down here? I can’t just up and leave.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I’m just… I’m worried about us? You’ve been so distant lately and we haven’t talked much in a while… I know it’s because of the JJ thing but is there something else bothering you?”

Ah, the perks of being married to a profiler.

“No, no, I’m fine. I’m just… dealing with working these two jobs and the whole JJ thing… That’s all,” you said, trying to reassure him. 

“Alright… Well I love you. I’ll let you go so you can prepare for class.”

“Thanks. I love you too. Bye.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

And with that, you were preparing for class, and in just a few hours, you’d commit your first murder by yourself. 

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

“Okay, alright, I’ve got the tranquilizer,” you confirmed, holding up the needle, filled with the sedative. 

“And you know how to administer it?”

“Yeah, you fucking stab them,” you said with an eye roll.

“Where?” he said demandingly. 

“The jugular.” 

“Good. This isn’t a game, Y/N,” he nearly hissed.

“I know it’s not a game, Dexter. I’ve never treated it that way.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered as he got his duffel bag ready, just in case.

You narrowed your gaze as you completed your own kill bag. “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong or--”

“No, you just need to take this seriously.” 

“I have been,” you said back evenly. 

“I’m just worried you don’t realize how much goes into this,” he commented. “It’s not just your ass on the line.”

“I know that,” you stated. You took a deep breath and ran your hands through your hair. “I know that if I fuck up, you’re liable too. I know what we did the other nights with the dogs was way off your radar. I’m sorry for pushing you to do that.”

He looked down, silent, so you continued.

“In the future, I will save animals if they’re being mistreated, but, I will wait until the victim is gone. This way there’s no chance of being caught, and maybe authorities will find them too.” You took a deep breath. “But I am sorry for deviating from the plan the other night. It won’t happen again. We’ll go to the bar, I’ll stick him in the neck, we’ll set up the kill room, I’ll do my thing, and you can do yours. We take him to the ocean and we’re done.”

“You make it sound so easy,” he commented. 

“It’s not easy. I know that. I know that you’ve taken years to perfect and master this. You’ve taught me a lot. I will follow every instruction to the letter,” you assured. 

“I just don’t… I’ve done a lot of work to keep this quiet.”

“I know, and I’m not here to jeopardize that. You think if I were, I’d be lying to my husband and staying here with you and going to dinner with your girlfriend and sister? No. I’m doing all this to keep up appearances and study as much as I can about you.” 

“Alright.”

“So you trust me? You trust me to not fuck up your life or your craftsmanship?”

He slightly laughed. “Of course I trust you. You aren’t some random woman that showed up on my doorstep. You’re a highly trained FBI agent. I know you have the skills to be stealthy when need be and how to keep calm under pressure. I know you’ve watched me make these kills, and you even helped on one.”

A feeling of uncertainty washed over you. 

“I just want you to make sure this is the path you want.” 

“It is. Can we just do this now? I want that fucker gone.” 

He laughed. “As you wish.”

And so the two of you set out. It was around 11:30 at night. He locked his door behind him and you drove your car to the bar the guy went to every Friday. All you had to do was wait for him to exit. 

“Can you catch him alone? Remember to stick him in the shadows.”

“Yes, and I will.” 

He nodded and you two sat there, waiting for him to come out. After ten minutes, he came out of the bar, stumbling. Now was the time to make your move. You crossed the dimly lit street and waited in the shadows to strike. You were behind the dumpsters, under a small grove of trees. When he went to unlock his car, you came over to him.

“Hey, could you give me a jump?” you asked, walking up, trying to be slightly flirtatious, even though it turned your stomach. 

He turned and eyed you up and down. “I can give you whatever you like, pretty thing. Where’s your car?” 

“It’s right over there,” you noted, pointing the opposite way of yourself. He turned and you quickly pulled the cap off the needle and jammed it in his neck. He crumpled to the ground and you looked around. So far, only Dexter was nearby. You reached for his keys on the ground and unlocked the car. You put him in the backseat, so if anyone came out of the bar, you could say you were his friend, giving him a ride home and letting him sleep it off in the back. 

You drove over to your car, and Dexter jumped into the passenger seat.

“Is it bad to say I’m impressed?” he asked, slightly giddy as he settled in.

“Absolutely not, I’m flattered,” you said with a smile.

“That was quick, effective, and inconspicuous.” 

“Thank you, Dexter, I appreciate that.” 

He smiled at you and the two of you drove all the way to the shop. You pulled the car as close to the wide door as you could. Instead of being in the back of the shop like the night you rescued the dogs, you were in the front. Dexter picked the lock, and you pushed the wide door slightly open before dragging the guy inside. 

Dexter and you laid out the plastic, pulled the table onto it, set it up, then got Rodriguez on the table. You told Dexter you didn’t want him to be naked, but he reminded you that his clothes could contain DNA if you didn’t take it off and burn it. Begrudgingly, you removed his clothing and got him onto the table -- not without a fight though, as he was dead weight. You were in good shape, but man, this was exhausting. How the hell did Dexter do this? 

You wrapped him in the plastic wrap and then Dexter helped you pull the plastic cover up to catch blood spatter. 

“Now we wait, right?” you asked, nervous just like when it was your first time with Dexter.

“Yeah. Or you can do it while he’s asleep. He’ll never see it coming, he won’t feel anything. It’s up to you.”

You bit your lip, thinking. After a second, you nodded. “No… No I want him to know exactly why he’s here. I want him to know that his heartless, soullessness is what got him here.”

All Dexter did was nod, his arms crossed. 

Finally, he was awake, and your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. 

“What the---Where the fuck am I? You better fucking let me go!” he said, shouting before you punched him straight in the face, right over the nose. Instantly, blood poured out.

“Keep fucking quiet,” you growled, your face near his. That actually felt really god damn good. 

He looked at you with hatred, and even moreso, fear. 

“I’d have you look around, Angel, but I know that’s a little hard to do,” you began as you paced around the table. You nearly forgot Dexter was there. As soon as Angel woke up, you slipped into the role you needed to fill, and concerning yourself with Dexter wasn’t part of that role. “I’ll make this very simple for you. You run an illegal practice. Not only is it illegal, but to some, it’s downright sickening.”

“Oh, is that you? Is this some sort of scare tactic from PETA?” he asked, mocking you. 

You got in his face instantly. “Do I fucking look like I’m from PETA?” 

 “A little bit, yeah. You don’t exactly scare me.” 

Your breathing was ragged, your heart racing, your anger flaring. You turned and grabbed a knife from your bag. 

“How about now?”

“Anyone can hold a knife,” he scoffed. 

“Y/N, time, remember your time,” Dexter subtly reminded in a low voice. Your eyes glanced to his form and he gave you a look. He was warning you to pick up the pace. You didn’t have all night, and you’d need to learn to kill quick. 

“Well I’m not just anyone. I happen to give a shit what happens to this world, Angel. And part of the problem with this world is people like you. People who think it’s okay to hurt something innocent, something that can’t fight back.” 

“All this... over some fucking dogs?!” he shouted.

You grabbed duct tape, put it over his mouth quickly, and stabbed his leg, making him cry out and moan through the tape. 

“Yes, all this over some dogs. Now, I like to kill the way you like to kill, but since I can’t hire someone else to fight you to the death and I don’t feel like getting into a messy fight, I’ll do the next best thing.”

He looked at you with uncertainty in his eyes. 

“Your dogs… Well, I should say, the dogs you have killed, the other dog usually bites their throat right?” 

His eyes slowly got wider as you pulled out two ice picks.

“It’s vulgar, I know, but maybe you should’ve just gotten a fucking job,” you said in a low voice as you got down to his level. You raised the ice picks high, one in each hand, you were going to slam them down into his neck, but then…. But then suddenly you couldn’t do it. 

Your frenzied eyes glanced up to Dexter as your heart raced. You dropped the weapons and looked at your hands, tears coming to your eyes. 

“Dex, I can’t do it,” you confessed. 

“Yes you can,” he assured. “You’ve done this before.”

“No, no, no. What if one of us gets caught? What if--”

He rounded the table and put his hands on your shoulders. “Y/N, Y/N, look at me. Take a deep breath, okay?” 

You complied, trying to slow your breathing. 

“Focus on me, alright? Look at me. We are not going to get caught. I’ve done this hundreds of times.”

You slowly nodded.

“I know, but that’s you. I don’t think I can do this. Can’t you do it for me? Please?”

He shook his head. “He’s not my kind of victim, Y/N. He’s yours. Remember why you came here. Remember that just below our feet is the blood of dogs he let get slaughtered. Dogs he didn’t even care about.  Just a means to an end, a pay day. He doesn’t care that an animal gets hurt, he definitely wouldn't care that a human would get hurt. Remember the anger that drove you here. People like him won’t even get a few years in jail. He’ll just come back out and do it all again, just a different place.”

You nodded, listening, tears still threatening to spill over. “I know, but I’ve never just taken a life in cold blood like this.” 

He moved his hands from your shoulder to your face, his hands cupping your cheeks. His face just a few inches from yours as he spoke softly.

“It’s either we let him go, and he continues to kill innocent dogs, like the dogs we found in cages -- scared, starving, unhealthy… Or we can end his reign of terror now. No one will miss him. No one will mourn him. But you, you’ll be a hero to those dogs, and you’ll prevent further animal blood shed.”

Your breathing was finally evening out. He was right.

You could just let this piece of shit go.

Or you could do what you’d always wanted to do with one of these sonsabitches. 

That’s all you needed before you took a deep breath, picked up the ice picks again, and gouged them deep into Angel’s neck. You closed your eyes, keeping your hands on the handles as you turned your head. He twitched a little bit before finally going lifeless beneath you, and you let go, backing up a step, your breathing shaky. 

“You okay?” Dexter asked, his voice cautious as he put a hand on your shoulder and assessed you.

“Yeah, no, i’m good. I’m fine.” You nodded, trying to back up your uneasy voice. 

He nodded, gently saying, “Okay, I’m going to do what I do. Alright? You think you’ll be okay?” 

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Thank you, for helping me,” you said, putting your hand on his shoulder before turning around. 

Dexter waited just a moment, to monitor you, to make sure you were honestly okay before he started up his saw, and began his work. The noise still sickened you, but you couldn’t find a way to feel bad or sad or remorseful for this horrible man not being here. He didn’t shed a tear for the innocent dog’s lives he brutally ended, why should you shed a tear for his? 

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

Dex got the body parts in the bag, loaded into the car, and you two drove to his boat at the marina. He helped you in once you two got the parts put on the boat. Silently, you drove out to his spot, and pushed the bags overboard before collapsing back onto the bench seat on his boat. 

Dexter sat across from you, his elbows on his knees.

“Hey, you gonna be okay?”

“I’m fine, Dex, stop asking,” you assured, your voice only half confident. 

He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re golden. I’m glad to know you’re as fucked up as I am. Taking a life and not batting an eye.”

Your eyes slid to him as a bitch face settled over you. “I’m not saying it doesn’t affect me, but what do you want me to do? Fall to pieces?”

“No, but I want you to process this.”

“I… killed a man.”

“Yes.” 

“All by myself.”

“Right, and how do you feel? Happy, elated, nervous, regretful…?”

“I feel...free. I feel release.” 

“Really?” he asked, sitting back, taken aback. 

“Yeah, why, does that shock you?” 

“A little, yeah. I thought only someone like me might feel that way.”

You laughed, scoffing a little. “Uh, no. Believe it or not, I’ve wanted to scratch this itch for years.”

He gaped at you. “Years?”

A nod was your response. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t feel this way when I started the FBI. Sure, I wanted to beat the shit out of people like Angel, but kill them… nah. Criminals that were hurting innocent women and families and stuff, it got to me, I wanted to hurt them… But when we really started to put our noses to the grind, and year after year I was watching criminal after criminal get released from jail for stupid ass reasons, I was just itching to sit outside the jail and pick them off, you know?”

“Somewhat, yes.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m a villain. I bet in someone’s story, I am. I don’t think I’m a hero, maybe just an anti-hero.” 

“Still has hero in the name,” he noted with a half smile.

You returned a weak smile. “I don’t know. I don’t regret doing what I did, I feel like I’m doing the right thing, but I feel so… skeevy about it… I don’t know.” You let your head hang, thinking, wondering why you felt somehow bittersweet.

Angel was gone. Dogs were safe from him. You got your vengeance. 

But, you were turning your back on your training, your friends, your husband...

Dexter nodded. “For what it’s worth, I’m kind of proud of you for doing this.”

You glanced up at him. 

“I know you probably aren’t seeking a serial killer’s approval, but you held your convictions, and I think that’s… admirable. Y/N, you aren’t like me. I have these urges, no matter what, Harry just happened to help me make them somewhat useful for the world. So we picked targets no one would miss, that this world didn’t need. But you, you’re finding bad people and making this world a better place because you want to.”

“Ah, murder by choice, not by trade,” you shot, a little annoyed. 

He thought for a moment. He understood you were probably toying with your humanity, wondering if you were just as bad as the people you were taking out, and he wanted to take that worry away. 

“What does your oath say?”

“What?”

“For the FBI, what’s the vow you took, when you were sworn in?”

“Do we really have to--”

“Just do it,” he ordered firmly. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “I , Y/N, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.”

“And that’s what you’ve done tonight. All you did was uphold your oath. No one else got hurt. No one innocent, but someone that was an enemy of the state.” 

A slight smile pulled at your lips finally.

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. And I’m not here to support you killing because m supporting you doesn’t satisfy my urges, and you don’t go after my sort of victim. I think you are honestly doing society a great justice.”

“Well thank you, Dex,” you sweetly said. “I appreciate that.”

“Sure thing. Any time.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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@glitterquadricorn​​​​​​

@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm​​​​​​

@alyssaj23​​​​​​

@sea040561​​​​​​

@princess76179​​​​​​

@thisismysecrethappyplace​​​​​​

@sarahp879​​​​​​

@malfoysqueen14​​​​​​

@ellallheart​​​​​​

@breezy1415​​​​​​

@marvelmayo​​​​​​

@paintballkid711​​​​​​

Spencer Reid

@camigt1999​​​​​​

@ultrarebelheart​​​​​​

@lenawiinchester​​​​​​

@esoltis280​

ITCM

@arganfics​​

[kitkatwinchester]

Aesthetic Tag Game

Thanks for tagging me @jelly-pies and @letscatchyoulater! I know you guys tagged me a while ago, but it took me a bit to come up with my own aesthetics lol. It was super fun though!! 

Rules: Bold the aesthetics you relate to and add twenty of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold

(soft!) baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night | 

(dark academia!) neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story |

(edgy!) closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks |

(seventies!) colorful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding |

(preppy casual!) collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colorful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairy-lights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details

(@masterninjacow) rainy mornings | sweet steaming tea | cats’ purrs | daydreaming about fantasies | back hugs | glinting necklaces | loud video games | grumbling thunder | constantly chewing gum | wearing nothing but a t-shirt and underwear to bed | watching horror movies at night | nibbling on chocolates | talking to yourself | short hair | sad lofi music | messy sketches | sweet-scented body wash | spicy noodles at midnight | hating physical affection but craving it at the same time | ending all texts with lmao or rip

(@cherriigguk) | dried flowers | painting at 2 am in oversized sweater| up until sunrise | abundance of blankets and plushies | minimalistic colours | writing when you can’t sleep | warm banana bread on a winters day | stroking a sleepy dog | big eyeliner | butterfly clips | lo-fi hip hop | glossy lips and rose tinted cheeks | afternoon tea with old friends | oversized cardigans | herbal tea | dainty jewellery | self-care evenings | messy low bun or ponytails | dark hair | too many sketchbooks

(@bisoo) Fairy lights | Walking in the woods | night city | waves sound | drinking hot chocolate or tea during raining days | being wrapped in a blanket | polaroids | pastel stuff | mint tea | cats’ furr | baked brownies or cookies | French toast/pancakes for breakfast | drinking tea at 3 am with friends | café | doing braids on your friend’s hair | lots of plushies | doing old drawings again | boxes full of doodles | iced coffee

(@midnightlunaandinnerfangirl) having tons of plushies | wearing black | knitting | making your own clothes | napping in the sun | dancing in your bedroom | reading books in your bed | oversized hoodies | combat boots | flowy dresses | lots of piercings | wearing multiple rings on your fingers | gardening | ripped black jeans | chokers | wearing tights | oversized sweaters | black nail polish | holding babies | coffee

(@superherotiger) Posters on your bedroom walls | Marvel/Star Wars shirts | hot chocolate at night | platonic cuddling | family jewellery | ocean breeze | sand on your feet | reading books in the sunlight | stuffed toys | big jackets | black hair | playing games | night owl | clean and orderly | blues and greens | trinkets from travels | LEGO | unfinished sketch books | sunny days | starry nights

(@an-odd-idea) constant daydreaming | full notes app | studying maps | staying up late | meaningful jewelry | searching for music to match what you’re writing | loving deeply | always cold | cuddling cats | no makeup | long hair | camp t-shirts | songs on repeat | singing in the car | fuzzy blanket | chamomile tea | midnight snacks | summer nostalgia | bad at hugs but really wanting them anyway | holding hands |

(@jelly-pies) ink on your hands | doodling random quotes/song lyrics | t-shirts and denim shorts | keeping mints in your purse | lip balm | talking to inanimate objects | half-full journals | backpacks | fandom trinkets | flip-flops | board games | songs from original movie soundtracks | holding conversations with kids | fanarts saved to your phone | lying on the grass | floating on your back in the water | full hearty breakfasts | casual side-hugs | dozing off anywhere | fruit shakes |

(@letscatchyoulater) misty sunrises | peppermint tea with milk and honey | sunlight filtering down between trees | lots of warm, squeezing hugs | vanilla scented candles  | found family fics | watching raindrops fall down the window pane | drinking hot chocolate alone at a cafe | different playlists for different moods and activities | subtle fandom pun shirts and stuff | hurt/comfort | wireless headphones for care-free dancing | crisp autumn days | shadowy forest trails | calm seas and stormy lakes | reading just one more chapter before going to sleep | cocooning oneself in a blanket burrito | chocolate biscuits | platonic cuddle piles | randomly singing and humming everywhere

(@kitkatwinchester) constantly listening to music | ruffling siblings’ hair | dancing like nobody’s watching | head in someone’s lap| reading in a corner with a desk lamp | always saying “I love you” to friends and family | long bike rides | sunsets by the lake | late night phone calls | writing when emotional | playing random instruments when you walk by them | family doesn’t end with blood | always having something to talk about | nocturnal | organized chaos in your room | easily losing track of time | really long hugs from the people you love | always wearing fandom gear| organizing things into folders/albums | taking lots of fall photos

I’m tagging @baloobird, @jen27ny, @crowleyellestair, @howdoistopthetrain, @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover, @ironfamjam, @jolinarjackson, @irondad-not-ironsad, @joyful-soul-collector, @justme--emily, and @annieshurley. 

[deathduty]

Child || Solo

WHILE DEIRDRE’S MOTHER IS VISITING, and after THIS.

Deirdre's legs grew long first, tall and thin. Like a newborn deer, she stumbled around any patch of uneven land. Her legs quivered as they struggled to keep the rest of her steady. Her knees turned thick and hard under the constant scraping. Bruises melded into the paleness of her skin until purple was simply an undertone.

Her mother had grown gradually, like the swell of an orchestra. She blamed Deirdre’s choppy growth on her father. She should have known better, looked harder. Except this was not guilt, or ownership of something, it couldn’t have been with the way her eyes bore into Deirdre every time she fell over. Her daughter was clumsy. There was no father to blame.

Just the child.

Deirdre had been meaning to fix the odd shrieking that her door gave off every time it was closed slowly. It sounded a lot like a wounded animal losing its voice to give one last plea for help, which she might have enjoyed if it wasn’t for the way the sound sliced through her house. It also never was much of a problem unless she was sneaking into her own house, a thing she’s never done before.

“There’s a joke here about watching my daughter sneak into her own house, but I’ll let you make it,” her mother, Siobhan, smiled. She was leaning against Deirdre’s kitchen island, against her marble countertop just barely in sight from the entrance. Deirdre figured she must have done this deliberately, so that her curiosity to see what her mother was up to would propel her into the kitchen. 

And it did.

Without being asked, she stood at the threshold between her great room and the kitchen, where decadent hardwood turned into cold tile. And like always under the gaze of her mother, or merely in her presence, Deirdre felt herself shrinking. She opened her mouth to work out that joke about the sneaking in, but the words jammed in her throat, begging to be swallowed down with an audible gulp instead. 

“What--what--” What are you doing here? It was the middle of the night, and there was no one who hated eating after 6 P.M. like her mother. But Deirdre couldn’t say that either and blubbering around like a child didn’t appeal much to her so she swallowed that too and waited for her mother to offer up an explanation. 

Instead of words, Siobhan stepped aside. On the island, revealed by her movement, was a piece of paper. Deirdre knew the stationary. Her face turned pale, almost the same fairness as her mother. She tried to account for all of Morgan’s letters, all she knew to be tucked away in the safe behind the lackluster painting of a beach. She tried to account for her own, those she knew to be hidden well in the safe under her workbench in the shed. 

Deirdre inched closer but Siobhan’s voice halted her.

“It would seem like you have an admirer, actually. Though not much of an interesting read.” The older banshee shifted again, sparing a glance at the paper from over the tip of her nose. “I was looking around for that knife your great-great-grandmother gave you and that was what greeted me.”

Deirdre didn’t move. She tried to account for the letters she knew she’d stored away safely, where this sort of thing couldn’t happen. Behind the painting of a beach at night, behind a shore of a different world where the stars were bright and plentiful and the ocean waves were calm and cyclical. There were two letters. Were there still two letters there?

“Well,” her mother hummed, pulling a knife from her side with the same grace and ease that Deirdre did. “I could do you a favor---” she smiled, stabbing the knife into the letter, letting the sound of cracking marble ripple between them. She pulled a lighter from her pocket next, and flicked that open. “---and just spare you having to read it. Fates, it’s such degrading stuff.” Siobhan pressed the lighter to the end of the letter. Her eyes were set on the flame, not her daughter. “Let me get rid of it for you.” 

Deirdre, propelled by something monstrous to which she could not put a name, dove forward. She shoved her mother aside, tried to pull the knife out with one hand and stamp the flame out with the other. 

She heaved. The charred remains dangled off her throbbing fingers. The beginning of the letter was still readable, it was only near the end that the ink smudged and tearing and burning morphed the sentences. This was not one of the two she already had. 

“What are you doing?”

Deirdre spun around, clutching the letter to her chest, afraid her mother would rip it away. 

“Look at yourself, child.”

And like the child with the long, thin legs that didn't know how to keep her upright, Deirdre tumbled backwards. The cold tile slamming into her backside was more welcome than her mother's withering gaze. Her mouth quivered, and she worked around more words that had to be swallowed away. 

She imagined herself as that child, dwarfed by her mother's height and skill. When words would tumble out of her mouth without thought, and with a whimper she'd ask "are you going to hurt me?" But Deirdre could imagine the answer to that too. There was nothing more unforgivable than hurting a Fae, and her mother respected rules so greatly.

She might have held her daughter's hands steady against rods of cold iron to teach steadiness, or held her head under water to teach perseverance, but never once hit her. And she didn't need to hurt Deirdre to get her messages across. 

“Have you considered this is why you couldn’t activate that poor banshee?” Siobhan sighed. She glanced down at her daughter, decidedly refusing to move to her level or even tilt her head. "Can you imagine anything worse than never being given your gift? And can you think of a greater betrayal to who we are than not fulfilling your duty?" She turned her eyes to the bed of her nails, more intriguing a sight than her daughter quivering on the floor. "You are still such a child, aren't you?"

Siobhan picked the knife up from where Deirdre had haphazardly discarded it in her attempt to protect the letter. She tossed it between her hands, hovering over her daughter’s legs, something she’d finally grown into.

But she’d never hurt her. Deirdre believed that, even if her body didn’t.

Deirdre could remember nights spent with her cursed legs tucked under her, head pressed against the wall as their orange kitchen light streamed across scarred marble flooring. The light caught in every indent, drawing attention to each mark. She could remember trying to count them as her mother and great-grandmother's hushed whispers filled the air. She was supposed to be asleep, but she had so much trouble sleeping between nightmares and panic.

"I hate children," she'd say, "so red faced, screaming…helpless. Without you, I’m not sure how I would have managed through Deirdre."

Her great-grandmother would laugh in that wheezy way she did, as if she took too much air into her lungs and needed to cough it out. Her voice was deep and hoarse, like a woman who smoked too much despite having never touched a cigarette in her life. "Children are children. What are you going to do?"

"I hate them," her mother repeated. "Demanding. Selfish. Ungrateful. Insufferable."

Her great-grandmother, without fail, would always ask, “what of your own?”

And her mother, equally without fail, would always respond, “perfect, but still a child.”

The marble's scars always seemed larger then, deeper. Splitting apart and sitting silently on the verge of cracking apart. She knew they were the same marks, but under her mother's venomous tone, everything became a canyon. She never could if her mother knew that she sat there, listening to them, or if she didn't care either way. 

What she couldn’t remember was when her mother had left, and when exactly she’d taken from being half sitting up to curled up on her cold tile, a charred letter sitting in front of her. Or when, exactly, her great-great-grandmother’s knife had found its way into her shoulder. 

She laid in her blood, looking out across her immaculate floor. She missed the scarred marble of her home. There was nothing to count here.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m---I’m---” Deirdre, 8, knew better than to blubber like some child. She hadn’t cried this much since she was a baby. The taste of salt dripping into her mouth was odd, but she couldn’t help it. Unable to speak without floundering, she didn’t dare try. 

“You’ve been given such a great gift,” her mother reached up, a sharp smile was her attempt at comfort. She held her daughter’s face steady and rubbed away her tears roughly with her thumb. “Why are you crying? No one can love you like we can. No one can understand you like we can. No one else matters. And now you’re just like your mother.” Siobhan pulled back. The sounds of Deirdre’s  chéad scread thumped on from behind her bedroom door made of marred wood. For the first time, she heard her mother’s voice turn sharp---dissolved into the crude echo of a stranger. “What else could you want? Everything you need is right here.”

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 4

AO3

~*~Emma~*~

What in the hell is he doing with his tongue? He's licking his lips and flipping it around. Is he trying to drive me crazy? I'm not sure he even realizes what he's doing. Its like a nervous habit or he's thinking. Either option is sexy as fuck.

I'd wondered how and when the subject of him being The Winter Soldier would come up. It had to eventually. Like I'd said it's difficult to get to know him without hearing about his friends. It just so happens that his friends are famous people and super heroes.

I could make this easier. I could tell him a story to let him know I'm not starstruck or looking to attach myself to a celebrity. But that would open up a conversation I'm not ready to have and, frankly, he's not earned. Yet.

After I said to talk about his friends, Sebastian told me stories of dinners in Atlanta, nights out, and practical jokes galore. He used nicknames and told me about the people. I wasn't learning about a bunch of actors. I was learning about Evans, Mackie, Chace, Will, and Scarlett among others.

I must have had a look on my face because he stopped, "What?"

It took a second for me to track back to what I was thinking. "Just because I can match names with faces doesn't mean I know the people. Thank you for telling me about the people."

He smiled and his blue blue eyes lit up. It was like he was surprised he'd been talking so easily. He squeezed my hand and nodded once, "You're welcome."

Our dinner arrived and broke the moment. I'm glad. Like when the appetizer came and stopped the flirty comments. The interruptions kept us from going to far. A first date is like a dance. You flirt, you back away. You get into a deep conversation, then go back to a safer topic. Too much intensity and you run the risk of regretting what you shared in a moment. Out of control flirting just lands you in bed.

While we ate I took over telling stories about my friends. By the time they took our plates we'd built the foundation for future conversations about our days. I didn't doubt there would be those conversations.

We had to stop holding hands while we ate. Almost immediately I saw him shift and felt his leg brush mine and come to rest with his calf pressed against mine. With the plates gone, Sebastian reached across the table. I put my hand back in his and felt a frisson of energy travel up my arm. His hands made mine look tiny. Us holding hands wasn't a passive activity. We played with each other's fingers. Every so often we'd twine fingers and be still for a minute or two before the movement continued. Sebastian seemed especially fascinated by my finger nails. He’d run his fingers over the sides, push against the end, or almost pull on on them.

Another pair of beers arrived and conversation restarted. “You grew up in Georgia and now you're in New York. How'd that happen?”

I grimaced, “There's an ex in this story. You up for hearing the ex story?”

“If you're up to telling.”

“I went to the University of Georgia in Athens. About four hours away from home. First semester of my Junior year I took an elective in American Legal Foundations. Most of the class was taught by a second year law student named Jimmy.” I quirked an eyebrow to clue him in. He smiled. “He was handsome, smart, and very driven. We dated through graduation. Him law school and me undergrad. He got a job at a firm in New York City. I applied to NYU and started working on my Masters. You can work as a teacher in New York with your bachelors, but you have to have taken some prep classes, which I didn't have. So I worked as a server for the first year.”

Sebastian groaned, “I did too. I don't think I've ever been so tired in all my life. And is why I tip ridiculous amounts.”

I laughed, “I remember how bad my feet hurt.” He groaned with me. “It worked good with my school schedule. In the fall I got a job teaching Kindergarten. We had this one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. I loved our neighborhood. There was always something going on. I got to be friends with this local musician and his wife. She taught first grade, which is how I learned I would prefer first grade. The next year I moved to first grade and we team taught. I thought I was set. A man I loved, job I loved, neighborhood I loved, friends I loved.” I paused to take a drink.

His thumb moving against my skin would have been soothing if I wasn't past all this. Still, it felt good. “This is where it falls apart.”

“Part of what I fell in love with was his drive. I didn't count on it turning on me. Somewhere he started to think I was less than him. He was better than me. His friends were better than mine. At his firm's Christmas party I noticed when he introduced me or if someone asked me about myself he would say “she's just a teacher”. We got into a huge fight that night. He hated my best friend and her wanna be rock star husband. My salary was always going to hold him back.” I smiled. “Hold him back. His phone rang and I saw the name of one of his coworkers. She was the one he'd been fucking for months.”

Sebastian hissed in a breath, “Ouch, sorry.”

“Ancient history now, but thanks. My parents wanted me to moved back.  I just couldn't, but I couldn't afford our apartment either. I searched around and found a long term sub position near here for a teacher on maternity leave. They didn't have a spot for me the next year, but I found a first grade position in another school. I've been here three years now.”

“Very different from Brooklyn.”

I laughed, “Very. I loved the city. I'm not telling you anything you don't know. The energy is different there. You can walk around doing nothing and have the best time. I go back and visit friends, especially if Eli has a gig and I can see Angie. Most people come up here to get away from the city. I go to the city to get away from the peace and quiet. Where do you live?”  

“Soho.” He looked uncomfortable. “When I first moved to the city I lived in the apartment with three other friends in a scary neighborhood right near the subway. Good times. Acting isn't a steady paycheck. I just bought a place last year. I put it off for a long time. Part of me kept expecting the work to dry up and be worried about making rent again. My manager had to practically forge my name on the mortgage. I shook for a good three days. Then it got fun. I liked decorating and picking out stuff. Everything was painted white when I moved in. I left most of it, but I painted a wall in my bedroom a blue gray. Evans told me I couldn't paint it black.” He shrugged, “I like black.”

“My kitchen is black.”

“Good girl.” He brought his beer to his lips and smiled, “So is mine.”

We talked about New York for a long time. Best places for people watching. Live music places. Hidden restaurants. Things we loved and things we hated. Somewhere in this I decided this was the best first date I'd ever had. Or maybe it was just him.

The place was crowded, noisy with conversation and the clinking of tableware. His attention was never pulled away from me. I felt like I was the only person in the place. If he had first date nerves they weren't showing. He seemed relaxed and natural, which made it easy for me to be relaxed and natural. Facial expressions showed interest and kept me talking. He became more animated as he told his own stories. It was like he focused all his energy on listening, but let it go when it was his turn. As we talked about New York we were talking over and around each other and reacting to things said. It didn't feel like a first date.

When that conversation died down he brought his other hand to the table and motioned for mine. He held both of mine and his face went serious. “Alright. You're stranded on an island.” I snorted a laugh. He shook his head and laughter filled his eyes, “Wait for it.” He huffed a breath and got back into character, “You're stranded on an island. All your needs are taken care of. There's shelter, food, water, indoor plumping. But . . . there's no internet. In the middle of main room, which has an amazing ocean view by the way, is a jukebox. It only has five songs. What are they and why?”

My eyes grew wide, “Only five!”

He sneered and nodded, “Only five. Better make them good ones. Who knows how long you’ll be there.”

“You're gonna tell me yours aren't you?”

“When you're done.” He stared at me while I was thinking. “Only five.”

“Shut up, I'm thinking.” The first three were easy. “Ok, first, foremost, and always is Black by Pearl Jam.”

He made a face, “Ooo, good choice.” He started singing. “I know someday you'll have a beautiful life. I know you'll be a star. In somebody else's sky. Why oh why can't it be mine.”

I had joined in after the first line and could feel the smile on my face. “That's the reason. The feeling and rip your heart out emotion is those lines.” I closed my eyes and thought back, “Seeing that live the first time when I was sixteen was incredible. Watching Eddie on stage with his eyes closed, pouring out the pain. Then it switches to that Doodoo-doo-doo-doodoodoo over and over, almost like a mantra or sitting in the corner rocking back and forth to comfort yourself.  Start a Fire, by Ryan Star. It's memories of falling in love or maybe falling in lust. It's got an intense part kind of like Black. Probably because he's a big Pearl Jam fan. It says things like taking chances in the back of your car, give in to the beat of your heart as my hand touches your skin, and wake up dreaming and lie here with me.” I was on a roll now and kept going. “Shatter Me. Lindsey Stirling is a violinist and the lead singer from Halestorm does vocals. It's about being afraid and wanting to feel alive again. Starts kinda soft with the soothing violin in the background then works up to a frenzy. The first line is “I piroutte in the dark” so as the music builds I just picture spinning faster and faster trying to break free from the fear. There's an old song by Jefferson Starship. At least I think they were still Jefferson Starship. Miracles. It's from the seventies and it's one the dirtiest song I've ever heard.  Not in the filthy I wanna fuck you like an animal way, but sexy dirty. Have you heard it?”

He scrunched up his face while he thought, “I think so. Something about if only you believed in miracles so would I. Is that right?” I nodded. “I don't recall the dirty part.”

“There's a short version they play on the radio that doesn't have it. It's almost at the end and says I got a taste of the real world when I went down on you.”

I watched a slow smirk form and his eyebrow quirk. “The seventies had lots of secret dirty parts. Afternoon Delight. That song by Donna Summer full of sex noises. When I went down on you isn't really hidden.” He held up a finger. “One more.”

“This one is new and I'm currently obsessed. Chances by the Backstreet Boys.” He snickered. I rolled my eyes and ignored him. I sang the first line, “What if I wouldn't have asked for your name and time wouldn't have stopped when you said it to me.” He just stared and I switched back to speaking, “It’s a simple love song about fate. All the what ifs that have to happen for two people to fall in love.” I shrugged. “Your turn.”

He threw his hands in the air, “I can't compete with yours! You've got all these intense songs about heartbreak, fear, love, and lust. I've got, I've got Jessie's Girl.”

I laughed at the way he threw up his hands, made faces, and collapsed back into his chair. His over the top level of exasperation was funny. “I like things that make me feel.”

Sebastian clapped his hands then rubbed them together, “I'm going to have to up my game.” He took a drink of his beer, shook out his arms, cracked his knuckles, and finally reached out and took my hand again.  “I'm going to stick with Rick Springfield's Jessie's Girl as my number one. Playing air guitar and singing into a hairbrush. Good times. I love eighties music so I'll add INXS. Love lots of their music, but if I have to pick one and conserve my choices I'll go with Disappear. Love song about how the right person can make all the problems disappear. And it's got a great beat you can dance to like Molly Ringwald in Breakfast Club.”

“I'd pay money to see that.”

“The night is still young. Umm, number three. Sound of Silence. The Disturbed version. A classic made over. Could have been Careless Whisper, but they messed up the rhythm of the best part. I like it because it's familiar, but completely new. There's this group out of Vegas called Adelita's Way. Invincible is this high energy rock song. Never fails to get me up at the gym. Incidentally, it was also a WWE theme song and that was my fall back if acting didn't work out.” He hummed again and closed his eyes. A second later he was doing that thing with his tongue again. Must be him thinking. “And lastly, anything by Tool.”

I shook my head, “Nope.”

“I didn't think I'd get away with it. So I'll go for Puscifer and Rev 22:20.”

“Thought you said Tool.”

“Puscifer is one of Maynard's side gigs. It's got a line that say if I've got to sin to see her again then I'm gonna lie lie lie. Straight up sacrilegious filthy sex music. Intense too, so you might like it.”

“Your going to use that against me forever, aren't you?”

He nodded, “But you've got Jessie's Girl.”

[raleigh-ocean]

wonder boy | cordelia goode & eric ocean-venable

n/a: I’ve been thinking for a long while about this, because Cordelia is Eric’s godmother and she can’t deny is the apple of her eye (as much as her daughters) so I wanted to just indulge a bit in some fluff content.

when that morning her baby boy didn’t go down to get breakfast with the rest, Raleigh worried, because he has told her he was old enough to start the day on his own so Mina and her had decided to trust in him to that

and he had been doing so for a few months already, which was nice to see he was as stubborn as his mothers in some few ways

so the situation was weird enough for her to wonder if he overslept for once, I mean, he still was a seven years old boy in the end of the day

“pipsqueak has fever or something, he’s all cuddled in bed and was a bit warm when i checked his forehead”

when Madison entered the kitchen announcing that, trying to hide her concern through a her usual coldness, it was all it took for Raleigh to stand up and go upstairs, followed by Wilhemina

watching her boy all curled up, his stuffed animal in a tight grip, tugged at the strings of her heart and went full mama mode

“hey champ, aunt Maddie said you weren’t feeling alright,” Eric only pouted at that and curled up better. “is your head hurting?” nod “tummy?” nod “let me check then, little mister.”

Mina is now more worried but her boy is trying not to make eye contact, so now she’s a bit wary too while Ray checks their boy’s temperture with her hand

“mhm I think he’s a bit warm, but that can also be me and being the actual sun”

“go get Misty,” Mina said, taking a seat in the edge of the bed. “i’ll stay with him meanwhile”

that’s what everyone did when situations like that arose

Misty had been the one practicing green magic and healing magic for the longest time, so it was easy for her to do some easy check ups before actually going to the doctor in case it was something not that serious

so while Ray was gone, Mina took to herself checking on her son, doing basically the same but in a more calm way

“did Madison let you eat chocolate again before bed?” she wondered, because she was the one taking care of him last night when they were out with both Cordelia and Misty. “I promise I won’t scream at her nor you’ll be in trouble if it’s that way,” he shook his head, red messy curls all over the pillow. “then what’s this all about honey?”

“i don’t know, i don’t feel well”

and Mina considered herself the actual tough part of them two, but when he talked in such sad voice...she knows she’s really fucked

“well, your auntie is coming to see you, hang in there,” and upon hearing that word, Eric’s eyes brighten a bit, but Mina doesn’t notice it because she’s more worried about kissing her son’s forehead

when finally Misty arrives, still in her pajamas and a shawl around her shoulders, with Raleigh at tail, she’s quick to do the oh so waited check up

“do you say he was a bit warm?” Misty frowns a bit while feeling his forehead first and then start to run her magic all over her nephew with care. 

she can totally say Eric isn’t a single bit sick, indeed, she’s feeling how there are bits of magic working in his body and they aren’t from any of them three

but which could be the motive behind Eric not wanting to go to school? 

it isn’t like her own daughters pulled the same a few times, but she knew he didn’t do it before

so Misty, in her own very practiced afflicted voice, decided to cover her nephew for the day

“i think he can rest for the day, i’m sure it’s just something temporary,” Misty smiles to Eric, placing her hand in his belly lovely. “some of the girls in the other house had something similar, rest and do something he likes to soothe his head, and all new again.”

which make Mina look at her like ‘what the-’ but Ray just sigh deeply, worried because they both have to work (and go to the doctor’s appointment and teraphy respectively) and none is actually available to look after him

until they listen to Eric say, very tiny voice “auntie?”

and Misty, already in the doorframe with Mina and Ray, turns her head to him “yes darlin’?”

“can I stay with auntie Cordelia?”

none of the three expected that, to be completely honest

because they know Eric knows Cordelia is always busy and he always is very careful to not bother her

but something clicks in Mina’s head and she knows what might happen to Eric and now she is having mixed feelings, but what if she’s wrong?

“would you want to ask her?”

and soon Misty has Delia on speed dial, sitting in the edge of the bed and waiting for Delia to pick up, her phone close to the little boy curled up with his stuffed animal and his dinosaur pajamas

when Cordelia’s screen light up with Misty’s number, she gets worried naturally, taking in count she left her alone while still being asleep and barely just managed to open her eyes

“Misty? where are you?”

“In the other house, actually, someone wants to ask you something,” 

“auntie?”

Cordelia never sat up so fast in her whole life, the voice of her godson so tiny that she couldn’t help but feel her heart squeezed in her chest

“Yes sweetheart? are you okay?”

“I don’t feel well,” fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck “can I stay with you?” and Cordelia can hear Raleigh in the back going ‘if it’s okay with you’

and believe me, Cordelia always have a plan when her daughters or her godson need her

“of course you can,” and when she says that, she’s already in her way to get into her own pajamas again. “do you want to stay in bed with me? i can work from here today”

“yeah...please”

“then i’ll see you in a moment”

by the time Eric arrives to the other house, Cordelia have gathered her laptop from the office, some files she was working on, her glasses and had told Zoe and Queenie where to find her if they needed her

seeing Eric still in his jams, backpack surely filled with his favourite stuff, opening the door of the master room kinda makes her go really soft, ignoring the fact that Raleigh is looking worried at her

“thank you, we’ll try to come around to check on him,” she starts to say, leaving Eric’s half eaten sandwich and chocomilk in the night stand. 

“don’t even say it, please, you have taken care of Rhia and Vic enough times already,” and Eric is already climbing the bed and lauching himself against Cordelia, who holds him close the second he is there. “so just shush and go, let me take care of him for the day, i’ll call you if anything happens.”

and like that, Eric just indulge in being pampered by his aunt Cordelia

and Cordelia is very much happy to do so, because it isn’t often when she gets to have him like that

soon they settle in just being together there, Delia starting to get some work for the day done after making sure Eric has eaten his breakfast and having him hooked on some toons in her phone; sometimes she checks on his temperature, by habit, and kiss his forehead getting the most adorable grin from him before going back to his video; and sometimes Eric just take peek at what she’s typing in her laptop and ask her about it by pointing at things in the screen

all of this makes Cordelia remember when Rhiannon and Victoria were just that tiny and curious, and not the two teenagers that were fighting over everything almost 24/7 and she just indulge too in having Eric like this, not wanting to think about him growing for the time being

eventually he gets hungry again and they make a quick trip to the kitchen and Delia doesn’t care if some of the girls see her like that, out of her usual elegant clothes and just with her glasses on, robe covering her pajamas and talking sweetly to Eric, which is very shy everytime they cross ways with a girl and hides behind Cordelia every time

she doesn’t care about lifting him up in the counter while getting something for them to eat and they settle for pancakes, just for today, and under the promise of not having Raleigh nor Wilhemina nor Misty to know about it because ‘they won’t ever let her live if they knew’ and she’s sure Rhiannon won’t rat them out once she comes in the kitchen and gladly shove a big one in her mouth, hugging his cousin and kissing her mother’s cheek before going to her bedroom to leave her things from soccer practice

once they are safe again in between the walls of the master room, Cordelia start to wonder if Eric is actually sick, because he starts to tell her about a story he made up for class in such enthusiastic way that he is even bouncing in the bed and all

it’s hard to tell, but she doesn’t dwell on it yet, just listening to him and let him play with her hands when Eric jumps in her lap to keep talking

and then is when he asks her to read with him one of the books he brought, and it hits Cordelia how much he actually has grown

because not long ago she was the only one reading to him (all those books he is still very little to even read but he loves so much)

so they get to it, Eric resting his head in her chest, until he falls asleep there and Delia just decides to let him nap there, maybe because she takes a nap too, why not?

but she feels the need to check with Misty, finally, what’s going on

so she texts her, getting a reply almost immediately and Cordelia only worries a bit more

‘he’s fine, Dee, I think he just wanted to stay home’ Cordelia fix Eric’s body so he’s more comfortable. ‘did he said something?’

‘no, did Ray or Wilhemina told you something?’

‘nope, he just asked he wanted to stay with you and that’s as much as i know’

Delia just barely let her phone under her pillow when she felt tiny arms sneaking over her shoulders, soft curls tickling her neck when Eric hid there suddenly

“auntie...?”

his voice is again tiny, his words still laced with sleep, gets to her fast and Cordelia holds him better in her arms

“are you feeling better sweetheart?” he nods and tighten the hug. “why didn’t you want to go to school today? i promise i won’t tell mom and mama nor you’ll get in trouble”

and there’s this silence between them that reminds Cordelia of Raleigh a lot

it also makes her wonder if, in another time, another universe, they both would had had an Eric of their own. Or maybe if everything had gone different from the very beginning

and she stops from wondering when Eric finally raise his voice again

“I wanted to be with you”

“but I’d have been with you the same if you told me once you got back” she can’t help herself to say back, caressing his back. “we were going to have your first pyrokinesis lesson, remember?”

“but...idon’twanttodomagic...”

there’s something inside Cordelia that drops so fast and deep, she thinks she might has heard her godson wrong

“how is that,” she asks, softly and making him look at her in the eyes. “i thought you were excited.”

“no...” he shakes a bit his head. “i was excited because mama and you were...”

“did you tell your mama about it?” another shake of his head, making Cordelia’s heart go lower. “and mom?” he nods and she just sighs deeply. “and what did she tell you?”

“that it was okay, i didn’t have to if i didn’t wanna...” oh no, she heard him sniffle. “that she loves me the same, and my aunties, and Non and Tori...”

“did you think your mama and i won’t?” and when she asks, she almost holding her breath because it feels like he’s going to say it.

the next silence it’s only a confirmation of it all.

AND IT FUCKING BREAKS CORDELIA HEART SO MUCH IS TERRIBLE

she takes a couple minutes to gather her thoughts and just tries to hold her godson better in her arms, kissing the top of his head several times.

“Eric, it doesn’t matter if you don’t want to do magic, that has nothing to do with how much your mama and I love you,” the words felt heavy in her mouth because it pained her to listen him thinks about that possibility. “you just had to tell us and well, we would see what to do about it, because that’s actually our job.”

“really?”

upon hearing such happy tone in him, Cordelia only nodded and smiled at him, letting Eric to hug her better and just pamper him in all the love she could come up with for the rest of the day

for some reason, she felt such good soul didn’t belong to the world of warlocks and hearing from his mouth that he didn’t like magic was almost like a catharsis, for real

because it was as if his mother, Raleigh, had lived all the magic he was going to get as a legacy and now her son just seemed to have nothing with it, still not knowing how much it changed his mother for years

that’s why Cordelia thought it didn’t matter if Eric became a warlock in the future, if he was happy with that decision, all of them would be happy too

for the next years they would try to teach him how to control the only power he developed, his Pyrokinesis, so he can live a normal life despite of being born in such powerful household and thanks that his own uncle is, after some time, an active part of the camarilla of the high warlocks, it’s much easier to help him to not be recruited by them

but for now he was only a child, the child of Cordelia’s soulmate and best friend, her godson and wonder boy; a child that loved stories aout knights, dragons, sometimes dinosaurs and other times the space

and well, she might be the Supreme, but for the day she was quite fine to just be ‘auntie Cordelia’ for her only nephew, who she loved so dearly, and indulge a bit in that part of her life she came to love as well

the one in which she felt like she managed to have a family.

[goodjobcornjob]

I was tagged by @icedchailatte, people like never tag me in these things I feel so honored lmao.

Don’t feel obligated by any means if you’re in this list, but I’m tagging @pumpkin-queef @msblam @cydoniadreamland @flaccid-robot-penis @borjaxton @lethargicthylacine @coffeeofthegay

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? Black.

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? Country, then I could have sheep!

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? Fencing! I took a week long fencing class once when I was little and have wanted to get into it more since.

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? I drink coffee with a blinding amount of sugar, but with tea it really depends. Usually some sugar but not much.

5. What was your favourite book as a child? Not to be a furry on main but the warrior cats books were my JAM.

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? Showers. I used to prefer baths but then someone pointed out to me that bathing is stewing in your own filth and now I’m grossed out by them. Do love bath bombs tho.

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? Does shapeshifter count? That would be best for my indecisive ass.

8. Paper or electronic books? Paper. The physical thing just hits different yknow?

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? Either a Ghost band shirt I have, since they’re one of my fave bands and my partner gave it to me, or this t-shirt I got from a friend with a smug looking frog face that says “yikes” on it.

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? Already changed it baybee ;)

11. Who is a mentor to you? I have a friend who’s like a master class level cosplayer who’s slowly but surely teaching me The Ways Of The Cosplayer™️.

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? Sometimes I think so, I’d love to make a huge number of people happy either by being funny or with my art, plus I’d love to be able to help spread awareness and end stigmas through fame, but then I remember how paranoid all that attention would make me. Long story short, no.

13. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? Not really, but I can be if I wanna be.

14. Which element best represents you? Personality quizzes reliably tell me earth, so earth I guess?

15. Who do you want to be closer to? My friends from college. We never talk unless it’s in person and I don’t get to see them much :(

16. Do you miss someone at the moment? Yeah. I cut ties with my old Favorite Person (a thing related to BPD) about 1 1/2 years ago because she’s toxic af, I still regularly think about/miss her.

17. Tell us about an early childhood memory. When I was 11 I pulled out my two front teeth (not baby teeth, the actual legit ones) pulling open a drawer with my mouth while pretending to be a cat. I had to get a root canal to put them back in place, and was a lil celebrity at my dentist for years because of it. All the dentists loved root canal cat kid xD.

18. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? My childhood house is so dusty I could (and regularly did) catch dust in my mouth like snowflakes until I learned what it was.

19. What are you most thankful for? How well my transition has gone so far/the fact I’m able to transition at all.

20. Do you like spicy food? I desperately want to cause so much food from other cultures is spicy, but my acid reflux prevents me from building much of an immunity to it so I’m way too much of a wuss.

21. Have you ever met someone famous? I shook Bill Nye’s hand when he visited my hometown for a talk.

22. Do you keep a diary or journal? Yes, for therapy mostly, but I usually forget to write in it.

23. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? Pencil. I goof way too much to not be able to erase.

24. What is your star sign? Virgo. I don’t care about or believe in astrology at all tho.

25. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? Crunchy, I’m no heathen.

26. What would you want your legacy to be? I just wanna be known for being helpful.

27. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? I love reading, but haven’t regularly since early high school. Last book I read was a wholesome manga called Merman In My Tub. I recommend it.

28. How do you show someone you love them? I usually send them lots of things related to stuff they like and make gifts for them.

29. Do you like ice in your drinks? Absolutely.

30. What are you afraid of? Spiders (not nearly as much as I used to be thanks to exposure therapy), ticks, parasites, death, confrontation, losing my friends.

31. What is your favourite scent? Probably either rose or campfire.

32. Do you address older people by their name or surname? First name unless they tell me otherwise.

33. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? I’d live on a commune with my close friends. We wouldn’t be totally self sufficient, but we’d grow/make at least half the food and clothes we use. I’d come as close to having a private zoo as a person can actually ethically do without cramping/neglecting the animals. I’d play video games more than I worked. I’d regularly house people with nowhere to go. I’d sell sewing commissions and work somewhere like an animal rescue facility. A guy can dream 😔.

34. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? Pools. If I think too much about how much poop has to be in any natural body of water it sets off my OCD (I’m fine if I forget to think about it tho).

35. What would you do if you found $50 on the ground? Keep it. There’s no way to track who’s it is, if there was I’d try to return it.

36. Have you ever seen a shooting star? A few times.

37. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? I don’t want kids, but if I did I’d want to teach them how to recognize differences in cultural practices without putting value judgements on them.

38. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? I already have one (zelda tattoo on my shoulder), and am planning many more. Next one I want is a paw print from my cat on my stomach where he likes to knead.

39. What can you hear now? The wind in the trees outside, the fan, my partner shifting his feet, I think cicadas?

40. Where do you feel the safest? The living room when I’m alone in the house, listening to music and snuggling with my cat.

41. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? Either my misophonia or my fear of confrontation.

42. If you could travel back to any era, what would it be? Pre-colonialism North America. I’d love to see this continent in its not fucked up state.

43. What is your most used emoji? Tie between 🅱️, :’) and 😬

44. Describe yourself using one word. Clown.

45. What do you regret the most? Never standing up for myself or my friends as a kid/teen.

46. Last movie you saw? Hamilton. Very good but also overrated.

47. Last tv show you watched? Something I don’t remember the name of on PBS about octopi.

48. Invent a word and it’s meaning. Schlumple. It’s like when you’re sitting slumped and squished in on yourself you’re sitting all schlumpled. My rats do it all the time.

[theinfamousdoctorf]

So I’m finally back...

 Those few who know me personally will be aware that me and @theoverworldqueen have purchased a small rural house together. <3 It’s taken the better part of a year to make it happen and several months apart while I negotiated a transfer with my job and she logged work history in the place we were moving too for the mortgage requirements. [So we were apart for several more months then we‘d planned on. ;_: ]

 It took me almost two months to pack our household by myself, and several days to actually load the truck. The ‘friends’ who had promised to help us move faded away when they were actually needed, and I had to utilize some local kids who received cash and some friendly neighbors who were paid in furniture [that didn’t fit in the truck] and booze.

  When the day came to actually leave, I still had no volunteers to drive the truck because none of my friends could get time off work. [I had to drive my car with our eight cats inside.] The only people available to help were my parents.

The exact people I was moving to get the fuck away from.

 My mother refused to do any driving because the big truck was ‘too scary’. My pathetic excuse for a father, [from here on called jackass], would be doing all of the driving. Despite the fact that he’d just had several toes removed for diabetic reasons. My mother planned the route, later I realized she not only planned it with a paper atlas rather then choosing the fastest route via Google, [because she didn’t know how to use the app and wouldn’t ask for help] but also planned a very circuitous route in a vain attempt to avoid driving through any mountains. [Because they are also just too scary.]  So we start driving. A 26 foot Budget rental truck with a small horse trailer on it, and my car with me and the cats. Before we even got out of Texas, the horse trailer hit a bump and lost a wheel. It was then dragged about a mile while throwing an ocean of sparks where the metal edge was grinding against the asphalt. This was because it happened on a narrow highway with no breakdown lane. I barely managed to avoid getting hit with the wheel that flew off as well. We sat in a parking lot all night waiting for a tow driver who basically told us the king nut flew off and it was totaled. I had a partial mental breakdown and had to abandon most of the things I’d packed into the trailer. The truck was already stuffed up to the door and what little I saved was jammed in my car and thrown on top of everything else in the truck.   The cats were riding in a pair of pop-up zippered tents and were pretty mad by this point. My car stank of piss and fear pheromones.

 And then we drove, and drove and drove. Keep in mind that my destination was Washington state and I was coming from Galveston TX. It should have been a 2 and a half day drive with a stop to sleep each night. Around the third day I demanded to see the map and realized she had sent us across the widest part of Texas and New Mexico before turning north. There was a lot of arguing. Especially because I realized jackass was a terrible driver. So I had no choice but to watch helplessly as this colossal asshole drove a truck rented in my name, with nearly all my worldly goods inside, over every fucking curb, bumping it up and down and weaving all over the road. He hit a call box outside a Jack in the Box, he scraped a parked truck, he hit signs at more then one gas station and skirted far too close to the pumps with the back end of the truck. I went beyond the reasonable limits of human stress.

 The cats destroyed the zippers on the carriers and I was forced to just let them roam the car. First panting in the heat and then huddled freezing as we got further north. [I had them all in little safety vests and that kept them mostly calm, pro tip.]  On the fourth night jackass drove into a truck stop and then behind it. Up an unlit dirt road that said ‘dangerous blasting area authorized access only’. He then turned around several times and went back down to the truck stop where I blocked him with my car. He and my mother were having a screaming match because he wouldn’t explain what he was doing or why and wouldn’t stop doing donuts in the restricted area when she told him too.  I lost my shit. I screamed in his face and when he didn’t respond, I grabbed his horrible scraggy beard and then his throat and repeated myself. I took the keys and went to try and get some sleep in my car. [With so many animals in tow I couldn’t get a hotel room and really couldn’t leave the car unattended at all. So I hadn’t been able to properly shower in days. Plus I’d forgotten to bring a spare pair of shoes and my sandaled feet were red and freezing.]  The bastard has always tried to make my mother choose between me and him. He’s a psychotic manic depressive on a whole rainbow of medications. He’s a misogynist who really wanted a son, plus a racist and generally stingy and awful person. A running argument revolved around his insistence on cutting my lawn three times a week with the mower blade on the lowest setting so he was just killing anything green and kicking up dust. [My mother is pure enabler, always apologizing for his terrible behavior and gaslighting me like I’m over reacting.] He’s literally alienated so many people where I was living that I’ve lost out on jobs because he insists that I’m the terrible one and trash-talks me to everyone he meets.  So we finally get back on the road.

 In Wyoming I tried to get some sleep at a rest stop and someone hit my car and busted out a tail light. Several times we almost run out of gas because her planned route avoided any cities in case there was traffic. At this point I have a massive rash under my bra and just take it off.

 On the fifth night we arrive in a gas station in Idaho. I go to pee and come back outside to find jackass laying on the ground with three people hovering over him. I inform my mother that he fell and go back to my car. So emotionally dead at this point I don’t feel anything. 

 I am informed that jackass has broken his hip.

 I’ve spent most of my life praying for him to die, so that part doesn’t touch me. The part that ripped my heart out was that my mother told me that I’m now ‘on my own’. She is going to the hospital with him. She left me in a freezing parking lot with eight cats in a car and a giant moving truck with all my things in it.  Terrified and heartbroken I call my girlfriend Lie. She is eight hours away and leaving now to come rescue me. She’s bringing our friend Ashley as well. So I huddle in the car with the cats and try to sleep. After several hours I get a text from my mother telling me to bring her luggage and such to the hospital. At this point I’m furious. I tell her I will not do that. She says I will. I stop responding.  In the morning my rescuers arrive and we begin the long final limp over the mountains.  I get several more messages threatening me, trying to shame me for just ‘moving on without them’ and ‘not caring if your father dies’.  I was instructed to deal with my own problems like an adult. So that’s what I did. At that point the rental truck needed to be returned and I hadn’t even arrived yet. My job was waiting on me to show up the next day for orientation, and she’d basically wasted all the time I’d budgeted for unloading the truck. There was no way in hell I was going anywhere to give either of them anything.

 But we did finally get here. The Budget guy sent me his ex-wife who happily took some cash in exchange for unloading the truck with me, and we finally got rid of the thing. Unfortunately my car overheated from all the punishment it took and it’s currently non-functional. My job gave me a little extension so I’m using the time to get our household set up again.  My Etsy shop [https://www.etsy.com/shop/PatchworkLaboratory ] is still on vacation for the moment because the previous tenant didn’t like mail and just didn’t have a mailbox, but it should be up and running again soon. My other site is still good though if you’d like some funky cloth and want to throw a few dollars towards me fixing my car. [ https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/infamousdoctorf] I’ve got a paypal attached to nightshade518@yahoo.com as well. It’s going to be hard financially to keep all the bills paid, but I just couldn’t stand being near my abusive family anymore.

In conclusion. Take your giant cockroaches, fire ants, heat waves, and hurricanes; and go fuck yourself Galveston. Have fun with my awful relatives.

WA is home.

[jflashandclash]

Tales from Mount Othrys

Say “NO” to Cruise Ships

 Note: I know the brothers’ names are confusing for this section. Don’t worry. Nicknames are a’coming. Someone needs to point out that it’s stupid first (one of my favorite someones in this book <3)

 I

           Axel’s heartbeat thundered so loud, he feared it would deafen him to any movement down the narrow hallway and ruin his focus on the sting of ocean air. Tainted ocean air, he thought. There was an uncomfortable scent to this ship. He could almost taste the presence of an ill omen, and he had only snuck aboard fifteen minutes ago.

         The Glock 17 felt heavy in his hands. He kept the handgun pointed low, but ready. When he found his little brother’s note about running away, Axel didn’t have time to raid their father’s armory. He didn’t have access yet. Any requests would have inspired questions about why Axel wanted to be armed. He stole this one from a Miami-Dade county cop, near the port.

         Now, despite Axel’s dislike for guns, he wished he had taken the family “picnics” to the gun range more seriously. If he fired and missed in this confined corridor, a stray bullet would rip through these thin walls. According to the cruise ship’s map, these rooms housed potentially innocent passengers.

         They were empty.

         Axel had never been on a cruise ship before—just dinky riverboats from his hometown—but all the advertisements on the ship showed mass amounts of people smiling and looking happy, like join us, and we’ll give you a free discount on stapling your lips into a grin!

         There weren’t families talking about subpar buffet food or children fighting over who got the top bunk. The only sounds were the hysterical cries of a twelve-year-old boy and the laughter of his tormentors around a corner. From their shadows cast on the wall, he could tell Ajax, his little brother, was in trouble.

         Axel had been expecting his little brother to be on the top deck, making friends, not dangling from one of his feet, held by someone much larger than him. Then again, Axel hadn’t been expecting to steal a speedboat or sneak aboard the Princess Andromeda. He had hoped, by “running away,” his little brother really meant, “sneak down the street to hide at the local arcade.”

         “You ssssmell good enough to eat!” said a voice that should have belonged to cheesy cartoon snake. Axel had hoped he’d turn the corner to find a Disney actor dressed up like Kaa from The Jungle Book. When he beat them up, he’d just have to apologize to any observers that loved reptiles.

         Another laughed alongside the first. “Chocolaty. Perfect for dessert.” There was a long sniff. “What kind of half-blood are you? How do we know you’re not a Greek spy?”

         “M-M-My m-m-mom—she s-said that I should come here—it’d be safe—” his little brother babbled.

         Axel clenched his jaw. As far as he was concerned, nothing good came from that woman except the little half-brother in that hall. And even then, Axel was going to personally whip Ajax when they got home and then ground him from eating Reese’s Sticks for a week.

         “Safe!”

         The two voices hissed out laughter, though the first one had a more difficult time with the word. Axel wondered if the person had some kind of speech impediment with s’s and if he was allowed to mock them by saying, “here to the ressscue” or if that would be rude.

         “You—d-don’t want to eat m-me! I’m stringy! And I just had a full bowl of jalapeño peppers! I’ll be too spicy!”

         In the shadow, Axel could see the person holding Ajax move his little brother’s body away in alarm.

         This was his chance.

         Axel stepped around the outer edges of the corner, coming into their line of sight. He aimed the gun directly at the person hefting Ajax.

         “Drop—” Axel choked on “him.”

         He expected the man to be tall from the shadow. Not eight feet tall with a furry chest so barreled, you could lay three of Axel’s siblings across and maybe have room for a fourth. Axel had only seen one other person with a snout, animalistic canines, claws, and paws; he knew now wasn’t the time to ask this man where he got the accessories.

         “Axel!” Ajax cried in teary-eyed joy.

         “Oh! A sssecond ssstowaway!” the other speaker hissed. It was a woman—well, half a woman. Her lower half sprouted a reptilian tail.

         Both of them had deep bronze tans, close to Axel’s, though they looked more like they were from the southern Mediterranean or Northern Africa.

         Axel had seen some weird stuff in his fourteen years. In the forests outside of their run-down, cramped shack, he’d seen monsters roaming the dense undergrowth and slurping about the rivers and cenotes. But nothing like these two: humanoid and capable of speech.

         In punishment for letting Ajax get away, Axel wondered if his father had slipped him hallucinatory drugs and hired actors to show up in monstrous costumes to send him into a panic. Axel gritted his teeth. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

         Neither seemed concerned by Axel’s weapon.

Actors would have been.

         “Remember what Luke said, Agriussss.” The woman frowned. “We’re not supposed to eat them if they want to join. Remember Jack’sss morning meditation.”

         Both closed their eyes, inhaled, and exhaled. “Our demigods are our friends,” they said in unison, “Not food. Unless they become Ol’Sissies. Then food.”

         Hearing the snake-woman try the world ol’sissies was worthy of an Oscar. She was still “sssss”ing long after Agrius had reopened his eyes.

         “I mean it,” Axel said, not liking how little attention the two paid him, like he wasn’t a threat. “Drop him, or I will shoot.”

         “Did you just eat a bunch of jalapeño peppers?” the bear man asked.

         Axel swallowed. That felt a little offensive, even if Ajax had said it first. The idea of eating jalapeno peppers grossed Axel out, but, with the straightest face he could manage, he said, “Yes. Now drop him.” Axel did not like the way this woman examined him or how Agrius licked his lips. It was more than creepy.

         A nagging horror lurked along the edges of Axel’s conscious thought, whispering, It’s about to happen again. You’ll lose someone else you love. And you’ll be as useful as a jammed gun while you scream at them to stop.

         The slit V that marked the sight on Axel’s gun trembled.

         Axel wouldn’t be worthless this time.

         His trigger finger shook too much.

         The first bullet was an accident. Once Axel heard the sound, he discharged another three rounds into the bear man’s chest. That was too many wasted bullets on one opponent when there might be a whole cruise ship of aggressors.

         Agrius had been holding Ajax off to one side, far enough that Axel could fire with confidence.

         At the barrage of bullets, Ajax curled up, folding his body to he could reach Agrius’ arm and jam his fingers into the man’s tendons.

         Agrius howled and dropped Axel’s little brother.

         To Axel’s alarm, the scream had nothing to do with the bullets, just the tendons. Normally, someone might take a step back when shot, or react in some way. There were no bullet holes. No blood. Agrius didn’t even look at Axel; he glared at where Ajax had flipped to his feet.

         From the line of bullet holes in the wall behind Agrius, the ballistics appeared to have gone through him.

         Axel wondered if his father had drugged him after all.

         Agrius grabbed at his sore arm. He scowled, rubbing the skin. “That hurt!” he roared.

         The snake woman laughed uncontrollably.

         Ajax sprinted towards Axel.

Agrius made a grab for Ajax’s raven hair. Seeming to sense the capture, Ajax ducked. He dodged under Axel’s elbow skidded to a halt behind Axel’s back.

         Before the younger boy could press his face between Axel’s shoulder blades—as he often hid when bullies at their primary school realized the nuns weren’t paying attention and chose it as a prime time to attack—Axel shoved his little brother to run down the way Axel had come.

         Axel could beat up school bullies for his little brother. Anthropomorphic bulletproof humanoids whose only apparent weakness was jalapeños and pressure points? Axel could take a rain check on that one.

         Agrius released a second, enraged roar, sounding more like the snarl of a rabid animal. One thing was for sure: this guy needed some breath mints.

         Axel pivoted to sprint down the other corridor, hoping Agrius wasn’t as fast as he was big. The mental map Axel had constructed of this ship said they’d have to make it down the full—

         When Ajax stopped short, Axel almost impaled his diaphragm on the back of his brother’s head. Axel wanted to scream at him for stopping and, really, for running off in the first place, but the words choked on his lips.

         There was a man standing in the hallway—not a man. Axel knew, from his sense of mounting dread, this was no mortal. As Axel tried to focus on the person’s features, they seemed to dematerialize, the ends of his long, black cloak vaporizing into smoke. The ground he stood upon appeared to shift, or was he vanishing and shifting locations?

         The man’s eyes, the one thing that bore into Axel’s mind, were a piercing blue. Although Axel couldn’t describe the sharpness of his jaw or the color of his skin, he could tell the smile along those lips was endearing.

         Like Ajax and I are his new playthings.

         Agrius froze in his pursuit upon seeing this creature. His breath raged so heavily, Axel might ask if Agrius wanted an inhaler if Axel was in a position to tease.

         “What’s this then?” the man asked.

         Axel grabbed Ajax’s arm and dragged the younger boy behind him. Rapidly, he moved as far as he could from either party—into the corner.

         Axel felt Ajax pressed his face between Axel’s shoulder blades. “I—I’m sorry. M-m-mom said it would be safe here—” His little brother sobbed, clutching at Axel’s shirt.

         When Axel raised his fists into a defensive stance, they shook so violently, it was laughable. It was happening again. Not only did he feel small and helpless. He was. The bear man towered over him. The other one—that—that was a god.

         His heartbeat thundered so loud again that he couldn’t hear his thoughts to calculate a plan out of this.

         The unknown man took a slow step closer to them. When his foot contacted the floor, the rug seemed to ripple. Axel felt his heart rate decrease. He stumbled and his fists drooped down. Everything felt heavy. He shook his head to stay focused, terrified that he was losing what little control he had.

         Ajax slumped into his back.

         “Come now, we’re missing the main performance. Did you get the goods?” the god in the black jacket asked.

         The snake-woman pulled a backpack off to reveal a variety of soda cans inside. Axel wondered if this was a drug running operation. He’d seen his father’s associates tuck contraband into the most unassuming of places.

         “Ah, orange cream soda,” the man mused. He held a hand out, and one of the bottles flew straight to it.

         The woman frowned. “Now, if you could jussssst do that, why did we have to get it for you?”

         “So we could have enough to share. I mean, everyone on the whole ship might have passed out if I released that kind of power,” he said. His voice was warm and comforting, as was his wink. However, one of Axel’s father’s associates winked and smiled like that at Axel and his brothers. That associate liked to lock boys in his basement, according to rumors.

         “They’re almost out of fodder to throw at the stage,” the god said. He shrugged. “Incompetent performers, but it looks like we might have two new ones, ready to prove themselves.”

         Ajax jerked alert at those words, bumping his nose hard into Axel’s shoulder blade. He sniffled. “You want us to perform? We’re—we’re really good performers!”

         The desperation in his voice made Axel want to slap him. Though, really, Axel wanted to ask prove ourselves to what or whom?

         The man motioned for Axel and Ajax to follow him. Without checking to see if they did, he turned to walk down the corridor. “I’ll escort you to the techies.”

         Axel wasn’t sure what was more daunting: following a god to an unknown stage or fighting off Bear Face.

         Without questioning, Ajax darted after the god and scurried at his heels.

         Axel glanced at the seething Agrius.  “We’ll settle this later,” he told the bear man and raced after his brother.

         Agrius snarled something under his breath.

         “Thank you for getting us away from Winny the Pooh’s angry relative,” Ajax said. His sniffles decreased in correlation to the increased skip in his step. When Axel caught up, Ajax reached for Axel’s hand.

Axel swatted him away. “No soy Hiro,” he growled.[1]

         With their littlest brother, Ajax could pretend he was holding Hiro’s hand because Hiro was scared. He couldn’t fake that with Axel. Axel needed both his hands in case they had a chance to escape the way he’d come. And, although Ajax looked way younger than twelve, barely reaching four feet and five inches when he stood at perfect posture, Axel knew his little brother was too old for that coddling.

         “Oh, don’t thank me. I saved you from one losing battle and will be pitting you into a far worse one,” the god told them. His expression softened into pity. “Though, if you survive, you’re sure to find the safe home that your mother promised you.”

         Ajax’s mouth dropped open. His hazel and brown eyes widened.

         Axel could tell his little brother wanted to ask if this god knew his mother. Instead, he said, “B—but, you said it was just a performance.”

         From the way the man gently set a hand on Ajax’s shoulder—roughly the size of Ajax’s shoulder—and the melancholy to those eyes, Axel understood this wasn’t the kind of performance they were originally thinking. And they weren’t going to make it off this boat by running.

***

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D Ah, tiny Axel that thinks he needs to prove himself to Agrius. I’m sure the thought of fighting Axel was unbearable to him. <3 Stay tuned next week to see the Pax brothers’ performance!

Oh! real question guys: Do you want me to label when we shift from book to book? I have context clues burred into the stories, but would you prefer something less subtle? I can invest in neon signposts. With glitter. And those fluttery, streamer dudes.anyway, let me know!

Footnote:

[1] “I’m not Hiro.”

[silver-imagines]

Love Bites

Pairing: Arthur Curry x Reader 

Word count: 2545

Summary: An ancient vampire joins the Justice League, but locks horns with the King of Atlantis himself

Warning: just some language ahahaha AN: Requests are open so feel free to shoot me one ~

“Wait, so you’re a vampire?” Barry asked, raising his eyebrow as he stared at the woman in front of him. Dressed in dark clothes from the top to the bottom, her dark eyes stared back at the members in front of her.

“Pretty much.” She laughed, pulling out the dark contacts to reveal her red eyes beneath, causing Barry and Victor to slightly step back.

“But how?” Victor asked, being confused at this revelation, after all, there was no way such a creature could exist. “It’s not scientifically possible for a living organism like a vampire to exist, especially co-existing with humans around them.” He added.

“It’s a long story, the abridged version is that I was barely breathing when an elder saw me and took pity, injecting his venom into my system and took me in, giving me this curse.” She bitterly chuckled, running a hand through her (h/c) hair.

“So what’s your jam?” Arthur asked, speaking up for the first time. “Do you turn into a bat like bat boy over there?”

“Sadly no, but what I can do is this.” She smirked, taking the glove off her hand to reveal her pale skin and letting a phoenix form out of flames, amazing all those around her.

“Since the man who transformed me was an elder, a phoenix elder, thus I can do this, now should we talk about saving the world or not?” She smirked, eyeing the King of Atlantis.

________________

“Stay away from me.” (Y/n) hissed at the taller man in front of her, glaring him dead in the eyes. The mission had gone south, horribly thanks to Arthur and her refusing to cooperate. It was a simple mission, extraction and eradication of an extremist group that were located on the docks. But as soon as the four - Arthur, (Y/n), Barry and J'onn - split up, Barry and J'onn taking the hostages as Arthur and (Y/n) went after the extremists. It all went downhill when Arthur asked (Y/n) to go after one of them underwater as he tackled another, but she outright refused, causing the one to get away and thus the fight between the two league members themselves.  

“Break it off both of you, what are you? 12?” Clark yelled at the pair who still wouldn’t back away from one another, after all, it wasn’t the first time, heck this happened almost every day.

“Get fish boy to back off my nerves or I’ll fry him” (Y/n) hissed, walking off, showing no respect to the King of Atlantis.

________________

“Wait, so you’ve been alive for 3000 years?!” Barry exclaimed, his eyes widening.

“Yes, unless you didn’t hear everything I just said.” (Y/n) said, opening the door of her Lamborghini, being so old had its perks, (Y/n) was richer than Bruce Wayne himself but due to her long age, she continuously changed her identity every 50 years, thus her wealth was spread out.

“I feel like she makes your wealth redundant Wayne” Hal laughed.

________________

(Y/n) groaned, the shock of the hit travelling throughout her body, despite the fact she was immortal, she still felt pain. Grinding her teeth, she stood up again, only to find Clark ready to fry Diana. Lex Luthor had done something, something that changed Clark, his brown eyes were no longer brown, but instead, they glowed blue.

“CLARK” (Y/n) yelled, conjuring her strongest flame, engulfing the man of steel in the heat as he desperately tried to freeze the flames. Diana quickly crawled away, having taken many strong hits from Superman. Grinding her teeth harder, she pushed forward. She wasn’t at her peak, she hadn’t fed for a long while, around maybe 4 years or so?

Bruce, Barry, Diana, Hal, J'onn and Arthur all watched from the side of the bridge, she was bringing him down but at the same time, melting the supports of the bridge that held them above the deep ocean. Letting one leg fall, she continued, Clark had fallen to the floor by now but still wasn’t standing down. She kept going, grinding her teeth harder as the supports of the bridge kept melting, causing the bridge to tilt. Barry and Victor zoomed around the heavily populated bridge, trying to keep the civilians out of the line of literal fire.

Panic ran through her every vein, her phobia of the ocean kicking in as the bridge progressively lowered, but she kept going, knowing that there was no other way to do this. Eventually, the bridge gave up, plunging both an unconscious Clark and barely conscious (Y/n) into the deep water below.

“Shit, Arthur pull her out before it’s too late, go.” Bruce yelled, pushing Aquaman forward.

“Calm down Bruce, what’s so bad, we need to save the civilians.” Victor commented as he flew off.

“She’s terrified of water, her phobia is so strong she will do something stupid.” And upon hearing those words Arthur launched himself into the water. Arthur and (Y/n) had never gotten along, in fact, they were like two bulls, who continuously locked horns. Bruce’s words rang in his ears as he continued swimming at the speed of the torpedo, searching for his fellow league member who was rapidly drowning in her state of panic. It all made sense now, why she refused to go into the water that day, why she refused to go down to Atlantis when needed, it all made sense.

Finally locating her desperately trying to swim, he swam faster, reaching her and grabbing her arms to prevent her from splashing the water and he grabbed her waist, pulling her flush against his body as he swam up.  (Y/n) tightly closed her eyes, clutching on to the man she hated in her state of vulnerability.

__________________

“Are you alright Ms (L/n)?” Alfred asked as Bruce carried her in and laid her down onto her bed, pulling the covers on to her as Barry followed them, after all, he was (Y/n)’s closest friend on the league. Arthur and Diana watched from the door, as J'onn and Hal took Clark to his room.

“Thank you, Alfred, I am, I would like to be left alone right now please.” She sighed, pulling the covers further as she tried to push back the memories that came rushing back. Soon everyone filed out of her room, except one.

“You know you could thank me at least, for saving you but I suppose the 3000 years have caused you to lose your manners” He commented, before turning around and getting ready to leave but the vampire rose from her bed, in an instant pinning the King against the wall, allowing his arm to graze against a sharp table arm as blood oozed out.

Instantly, the aroma of his blood filled the room as the shorter woman had him pinned against the wall, closing her eyes tightly as a fire in her throat erupted. “Just shut up.” She hissed, feeling her fangs come out after 4 or so years, the pain spreading through her head.

“Just shut up.” She repeated as her breathing became more and more ragged as she pushed her face into his neck, holding the larger man in a death grip which he couldn’t escape.

It was so sweet, so inviting and all it would take is one bite, her abilities would be restored to their maximum potential, just one bite.

“(L/n), snap out of it.” Arthur said, feeling her cold breath against his neck and he knew he couldn’t fight out of her hold, she was too damn strong for that, even in her weak state.

“Mmmmm, shut up.” She whispered against his neck, and giving into the lust, she opened her mouth, placing an open-mouthed kiss on the soft skin of his neck, searching for the soft spot to bite. Arthur shivered under her touch, feeling electricity shoot down his spine.

“(L/n), stop.” He commanded again, using his hands to shake her shoulders, using rough measure, which only aggravated the hungry vampire even more as, very quickly, kicked his legs, allowing him to drop to the floor and she hovered over him, pinning his right arm under her leg and using one hand to hold his left hand down, using her free hand to tilt his neck, snuggling closer to him.

Wasting no more time, she bit down, giving into her bloodlust, eliciting a painful groan from Arthur. The vampire moaned in pleasure as more of the Atlantean’s blood went into her system.

Arthur groaned as he clenched his fists, feeling lightheaded and dizzy but he couldn’t fight her off. By now, (Y/n) had pulled a significant amount of blood but her hunger was getting the best of her.

______________

“I need to apologise to (L/n), oh god.” Clark sighed, Diana had told him about everything that had happened and what the aftermath of his showdown with Luthor had been like.

Clark quickly got up, making his way to the second floor of the headquarters where (Y/n)’s room was. He was about to knock on the door when he saw the strange sight in front of him.

Arthur lay on the floor, potentially unconscious, with (Y/n) hovering over him, her face buried in his neck as blood pooled around his neck. “(L/N)!!!” Clark yelled, running forward and in an instant, he yanked her off Arthur’s unconscious body.

Pinning her down, he called for the other members, who soon flooded the room. Barry rushed towards his friend who was limp in Superman’s arms as Bruce and Diana pulled an unconscious Arthur up and pulled him out of the room.

“I should have seen it coming damn it.” Bruce sighed, but right now, his priority was making sure Arthur was alright.

______________

“Oh god, what have I done?” (Y/n) panicked as Barry told her what had happened.

“Your eyes are redder than usual, are you alright?” Barry asked, seeing her eyes which were usually a dull, dark red, were now glowing red.

“It’s a common sign of feeding, the foreign blood in my system gives me more pigment.” She explained, getting out of bed and pulling her sneakers on.

“I need to go apologise to him”

______________

“Can I come in?” (Y/n) asked as she stood at Arthur’s door. Arthur glanced up at her, a large white bandage covering his neck as he sat up in bed, Alfred had confined him to strict bedrest following his immense blood loss.

“I don’t know, are you gonna attack me like a savage animal again?” He commented and (Y/n) shut her eyes, knowing she deserved it. But out of all the people, why did she have to attack him?

“I’m here to apologise.” She softly whispered, walking into his room and standing at the edge of his bed.

“Get out.” He hissed.

“What have I ever done to you? Everyday fucking day it’s the same thing, you refuse to cooperate with me, heck you refuse to give me the basic respect, what did I ever do to you.” She’d had enough. Arthur sighed, getting up and walking over to her, starring her down.

“Me? You’re the one that is problematic, angry at everything, refuses to follow commands, help others, the only one you listen to is your fuck buddy Allen.” He hissed back, being fully aware of the nights the pair spent together doing god knows what.

“How dare you? How fucking dare you? I came here to apologise, to try to make things right and how dare you throw such accusations at me? Who the hell do you think you are? You may be a King in the fish land but here, you’re nothing more than an immature, stubborn, selfish idiot who doesn’t care for anything or anyone but himself.” (Y/n) retorted, walking closed to stare him dead in the eyes. 

Their faces were so close, so damn close that in an instant Arthur wrapped his arms around the vampire’s waist, hoisting her up against him and smashing their mouths together.

It angered him, seeing her be so close to Allen, constantly watching out for him, laughing with him, he wanted to be the one to do that, he was beyond hopelessly in love with her, but he couldn’t show it, no, he wasn’t going to show weakness, no.

(Y/n) instantly stiffened, not expecting this but feeling his soft warm lips against her cold dead ones, warmth spread throughout her body and she began to kiss him back, pushing him back into the bed as she straddled his waist. Sparks shot through her cold, dead body as her lips worked feverishly against the Atlantean’s.

Arthur smirked, flipping them over so now that he was on top and straddling her waist, threading his hands through her hair, pulling her closer if possible.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers as he tried to catch his breath.

“Then why do you hate me?” (Y/n) softly asked, her red eyes innocently into his. “I’m terrible with words, I am so sorry, so, so , so sorry love.” He whispered, pecking her lips again but this time, (Y/n) pulled him closer, allowing his tongue to enter her mouth. Moans of pleasure left (Y/n)’s lips as Arthur’s hands traveled down her sides, squeezing her waist and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, breaking apart slightly, not wanting to cross any unwanted lines. “Afraid that I’ll outlast you?” (Y/n) challenged, removing her jacket and with a smirk, Arthur moved forward, connecting their lips together again.

_________________

The pair cuddled together as (Y/n) rested her head on Arthur’s chest. “How’d you turn?” Arthur asked, lacing their fingers together.

“I was a young girl, walking back from a friend’s house, it was dark, I should have stayed at her place like she begged me to, but my father was sick, so I had to return to help my mother” She explained.

“I was crossing the bridge and the storm was strong, the bridge fell, plunging me into the deep river, an elder vampire found me on the river side, barely breathing and took pity on me, transforming me and taking me with him, teaching me everything I knew.” She glanced up at him and he pulled her closer, placing a soft kiss on her hair and the pair drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

The next day

(Y/n) walked down to the training room, dressed in her training gear, a black tank top and tights with a jacket on top. Setting her bag down, she took off her jacket, exposing the skin of her neck and shoulders, which was covered in many purple bite marks.

Hal and Diana cracked up as Barry and Clark stood their silently, obviously they’d all heard the noises from Arthur’s room last night. “What?” The older vampire asked, shrugging her shoulders.

“Aren’t you the vampire?” Hal commented, still laughing his head off and in this moment, Arthur came up behind (Y/n), wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest as he laughed.

(Y/n) had never been more grateful for her inability to blush because her face would have been redder than a tomato at this point.