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kamikothe1and0nly · 3 years ago

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A Price We Pay (OC Story)

Over on Instagram, I'm sharing some characters I made. A lot of people seemed to like my OC Scarlet so I asked if people wanted to read the story I wort over the summer. Some said yes so I'm just going to post it here.

This has nothing to do with Kotlc. You can just ingore this. My writing is awful anyway :).

Warning: mention of death and blood.

Scarlet’s midnight blue hair fell over her light chocolate-colored eyes. She stared at her hands, not knowing what to do. Maxseen was everything to her. She was Scarlet’s world.

Max has been there for Scarlet through her ups and downs. She always did everything in her power to make Scarlet smile. No matter the problem, Max was there for Scarlet. She just wished she could do the same for her.

“I’m sorry, Miss. Heart, there’s nothing else I can do for her.” The doctor looked at her with saddened eyes. From the sidelines, you’d think the emotions in his eyes were real, but Scarlet could look deep into the dark forest green and see nothing but cold stone. He wasn’t sad about Max; She was just another one of his patients. It was just his job. He didn’t care about Max. “Our best bet is that Miss. Willow will pass by the end of the week.”

“Liar!” Scarlet snapped; she gripped her hands into fists, trying to keep from fully lashing out at the doctor. “There’s something you haven’t done yet!”

“Miss-”

“Your job is supposed to be keeping people alive!” She cut him off. “So do your job!”

“We’ve done all we could to help Miss. Willow, but her health is falling faster every day.”

Tears pricked the corners of Scarlet’s eyes.

The silence was deafening., it rang in her ears, leaving her stuck in her thoughts. The soft beep of the machines was starting to irritate Scarlet as it added to the ringing. From time to time, she could hear a whisper behind the door, though she could never make out any words.

The off-white room felt too bright agest Scarlet’s eyes. The walls threatened to close in on her if she made any movement. The light blue curtains waved softly in the air as the breeze swept by the open window. There was one annoying light that would slightly flicker every 30 seconds. Through her tear-blurred vision, she could see Max’s chest gently rise and fall under the thin white sheets.

Her chair was uncomfortable, despite the soft cushion. Cold wrapped itself around Scarlet, reaching deep under her skin and clutching her heart in a frozen fist. It sent tiny, thin shards of ice into it for every beet. Her light, gray jacket no longer felt soft on her shoulders. Instead, it had turned into a ruff, heavy stone, pulling her down.

The burning smell of medicine, bleach, and too much hand sanitizer put a metallic bio taste on Scarlet’s tongue, leaving her stomach to turn.

Max’s amber-brown hair pooled around her ever-growing pale cheeks. Her blue hospital gown against the white bedsheets was starting to become offensive to Scarlet. She uses to love the color blue. Max’s eyes were a bright shade of ocean blue that was a deep swell of emotions. But now Scarlet could no longer see the blue she had fallen for, and she feared she might never see them again.

Max laid still, her eyes closed and breathing hard to notice unless you looked long enough. Tubes ran along her skin, each having a different job to play. One keeps oxygen moving in and out of her lungs. One slowly dripping random fluids into her body. The rest of the tubes did something that Scarlet didn’t quite know what.

Maxseen was a husk of what she used to be. She no longer ran around pulling pranks and laughing with her friends. She no longer told Scarlet of her daydreams or her plans for her future. She no longer pulled funny faces with her little brother and mom. Max no longer hugged Scarlet tight.

A tear landed on Scarlet’s hand, pulling her out of her thoughts. She was going to lose Max; she was going to be alone again. Her dad was right; she’ll never have someone to love.

“Shhh,” A woman gently stroked a young Scarlets hair. “It’s ok; you’re safe. Nothing can hurt you,” she whispered. Her voice was sweet like honey and smooth as glass. It held so much love and kindness with every syllable.

Scarlet sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, “It was horrible, mom. It was dark and scary. I couldn’t find you… I was alone.”

“Oh my sweet child, you are never alone, and it was only a bad dream.” She started to braid Scarlet’s hair, something that always calmed her down. “Do you remember that story I told you when you were a little older than a baby?”

“The one about the dragon that can grant you a wish? I remember a little.”

The woman hummed in thought, “She lives in a cave lined with glowing crystals, found beep in the Forbidden Forest. Her short fur is a shining black that sparkles in the faint light of the crystals. Her eyes are bright firey-orange. When she looks at you, she looks deep into your eyes.”

“The eyes are the gateway to the soul,” Scarlet whispered. Her mom tickled Scarlet, causing her to giggle.

“Correct.” She poked Scarlet’s nose with a light feathery touch. “She looks into your soul.” She leaned back against the bed and looked thoughtfully at the shadowy ceiling. “Her claws are said to be so sharp they can cut through the toughest stone with ease. Her fires-breath is hotter than a hundred suns; you can feel the warmth of her firey heart when standing in the cave.

“Deep in her cave where the light can’t reach is where she sleeps with all her treasures; the crystals fill her dreams of young children’s wishes.”

“Everyone says dragons aren’t real.”

“Our world has grown disconnected from dragons. It’s been thousands of years since people have seen one. The stories we hear about the giant creatures have grown old and thrown around with fake stories. It had become difficult for people to tell which stories are true, so we labeled all their stories as myths and legends.

“People stopped believing.”

“Is your story true?” Scarlet looked up at her mother.

“Of course, my dear. Every word is true.”

“Really?” Scarlet’s eyes light up with wonder. “If it’s true, why don’t people try and find the dragon?”

“The forest is a dangerous place. It’s full of creatures that can kill in a heartbeat. The tall twisting trees block out all the sun’s light and warmth, leaving it in cold darkness that is more shaded than night. The trees shift and change, turning the forest into an endless maze. No one dares to step foot into the forest.”

“Then how does the dragon have people’s wishes come true.”

“Only the bravest can make it through the twisting maze of trees and make it through the dangers that lay deep inside. But be warned; the dragon doesn’t take kindly to strangers. She’ll searcher your heart to find if your intentions for her magic are good or bad. If she finds your heart is black and bitter, she’ll not hesitate to kill you.”

“How do you know all of this, mom?”

“I’ve seen her.”

Scarlet’s eyes opened as the sun reached through the half-closed blinds. The sun’s golden rays illuminate the small room in an orange-yellow glow.

Another one of those dreams. Scarlet has had them a lot since Maxseen got sick.

Just another reminder that Scarlet loses everyone that comes into her life.

Her dad left when she was four, her mom went missing when she was 16, and now Max would most likely leave her too.

But this dream wasn’t like the others. They always had Scarlet’s mom in them, happy memories of the two laughing with each other, cooking, playing some kind of game, just her and her mom when times were easy when she wasn't afraid of what could happen tomorrow.

She’s never had a dream about her mom telling her the story about the dragon. Her mother used to tell Scarlet that story when she was afraid of what was in the shadows or under her bed.

“Maybe if you wish hard enough, the crystals will fill her dreams of your wishes. Maybe she’ll hear it and help you make them come true.” her mother brushed a strand of hair behind Scarlet’s ear.

“You think so?”

“Wish with all your heart, my dear, and maybe, just maybe, she’ll give you your wish.”

After losing her mother and everyone saying she wasn’t going to come back, Scarlet had given up on believing and wishing. She didn’t have a reason to. Her wishes would never come true; there was no point in believing stories her mother would tell her. Scarlet just went on with life, trying to survive, making it to another day.

And then she met Maxseen. Her kind blue eyes warmed Scarlet’s heart. Max’s smile filled her life with color again. Max gave Scarlet a reason to wish, a reason to believe. She became the reason Scarlet lived more than to survive. Max was the reason that Scarlet laugh, smiled, cried. She was the reason she loved.

Scarlet can’t lose that.

Max can’t lose her chance to do all she wanted to do in her life.

Scarlet sat up with a jolt. The dragon could be what saves Max.

It was a far-fetched chance that Scarlet could even find a dragon, and it was an even farther-fetched chance that her mother’s story could be true. But this could be the last thing that could help save Maxseen.

And Scarlet was going to take that chance.

So there Scarlet stood, at the edge of the blackened forest. The sun was at its highest peak. Warmth hugged the land the sun’s light landed upon.

But the light and warmth seemed to fear away from the old creaking trees. Not even a foot deep into the forest, the light thinned, leaving barely enough light to see what was in front of you.

Do not enter.

Warning dangers.

Those who go in don’t come out.

Bright, eye-catching, yellow signs hung on the spiked, bobwire fence, warning people to stay away. The thick wire reached high into the vast blue heavens, keeping people out and keep in whatever lay among the shadows.

Scarlet breathed in deeply, trying to steady her fear-struck heart. The warning of what laid in the Forbidden Forest raced through Scarlet’s mind. She stepped back when a low howl sounded through the alley of trees.

Finding the dragon, going into the forest, is the last chance to keep Maxseen alive.

She clasped her hands into tight fists and pushed the fear down. If she was going to do this, she had to do it now. Max didn’t have very long. Scarlet can’t keep wasting time on her fears.

The wires snapped as Scarlet cut a hole in the fence, just big enough for her to slip in. Once she had worked up the courage to move past the wires, she could feel a freezing wind sink deep into her skin, putting the uneasy feeling back in the pit of Scarlet’s stomach.

The trees groaned and creaked as they stretched up to the sun. They used their leaves to block out the earth’s closest star’s warmth and comforting light. All the colors the world should have painted the earth were dull, dark, and dead. The trees weren’t like the one Scarlet would sit under on a warm summer day with all her friends. Instead, the tree’s bark was a muddy grey-brown, and their leaves were far from the vibrant green, but instead, were a nightmarish black.

With the sun blocked, Scarlet had lost track of how long she had been walking. The fear and the feeling of eyes following her grew with each step.

From time to time, she could hear a faint growl of a wolf or a twig snapping in the distance. The trees sounded like they were crying and screaming, their branches reaching out to Scarlet, begging for help. No birds sang their cheerful songs among the trees. The eerie atmosphere began to play tricks on Scarlet’s mind, leaving her to wonder what sounds were real.

She started to smell blood and rotting flesh the farther she ventured into the twisting ocean of trees. She wrinkled her nose, the smell only getting stronger every second. Awful odor after odor filled her senses, making her skull start to drum against her head.

Her mouth had gone dry minutes ago—a disgusting bio taste laid on her tongue. The taste and smell made her gag as her stomach spun.

Finding the dragon, going through this forest, is the last chance to keep Maxseen alive.

She remembers when she had asked her mother about the forest. Her mom had gone mute; her soft gray eye’s sad as they watch Scarlet. She had used only a few words before ushering her daughter outside to play.

Dark,

Paranormal,

Dangerous,

Timeless.

Scarlet didn’t know what her mother had meant by timeless. How could something be timeless?

She understood what she meant now.

Everything in the forest seemed frozen in time when you looked straight at it. But out of the corner of your eye, you could spot something move among the trees. You could feel something reach out to you. When you spin around to see what was following you, everything will go still like an old photograph.

You’ll lose track of how long you’ve been in the twist. Your mind would start to panic as it tried to decide if it’s been a second, minutes, hours, or days. Light didn’t move in the forest, leaving it to feel like you’re stuck in an infinite night of nightmares.

Scarlet jumped and yelped as a strong howl of a nearby wolf echoed through the trees. Her fight or flite kicked in, sending her running in the opposite directions of the cry.

As much as she wished she’d jump into a fighting stance when things got too much, she had always been one to run from her problems and fears.

The pounding of her feet against the ground woke bats that hid among the dead leaves. They sprung from their branches, startling Scarlet to run faster.

Her heart crashed against her rib cage as the fears following her shaded her sight. The world became a blur; the trees blended, blurring the narrow view she had. Barking rang in her ears as the crunching of fallen leaves stalked close behind her.

Scarlet peeped back; the silhouettes of monstrous wolves trailed only a foot away. They snarled, snapped, and barked, moving closer.

Scarlet tripped.

A tree branch reached out and wrapped its self around her leg. She slammed into the ground with a firm thud. Pain ricocheted through her head as it hit a rock. Her vision blanked as ringing washed over her. She tensed her muscles and curled in on herself.

An earth ratting roar filled the air. Scarlet had snapped her eyes open, seeing the wolf-shaped shadows whimper and scurry off.

Scarlet looked behind her to see what had terrified the pack. A mysterious void was all Scarlet met with; pain set back into her skull, causing her to wince. Slowly she reached up and pressed her hand against the side of her head. Her shivering hand was meet with something warm and sticky. She pulled her hand away, finding it covered in dark red.

“Aw.” She hissed.

The branch that wrapped around her leg started to wind itself up her thigh. Scarlet yelled, kicking at it. “Get off! Get off!” The branched snapped, it recoiled back to its spot at the tree’s side. The dead oak let out a screeching cry.

Scarlet backed aways as the forest joined the tree’s ear-piercing wells. They grew louder with every new cry. She covered her ears as the screams added to her growing headache.

A glow filled her vision. All at once, the trees went quiet. Slowly Scarlet turned towards the source of the light. The deep black void now was bright with crystals that glittered with a soft, comforting cold-purple. Scarlet’s breath caught in her throat.

“She lives in a cave lined with glowing crystals.”

She tensed and relaxed her hands in a fist, a weak attempt to slow her racing heart.

The jewels filled the gray-stone wall. Their light reached out, pulling Scarlet closer to the cave. The closer she got, the brighter the crystals shone, beckoning for her to go deeper.

Her legs moved on their own, steering her into the cave. The glowing of the crystals followed her deep into the hole. The light jumped from crystals to crystals, leaving the entrance of the cave dark and secretive.

The jewels flickered as they whispered into the cave’s thin air. If Scarlet listened to one closely, she could faintly hear laughter and wishes from little children, warming Scarlet’s heart. But there also was the feeling of sorrow.

She couldn’t help but think that those kids would lose their hope, their laughter, and their wishes as they grew older and the faults of the world sunk in. They’d grow up and find that the world wasn’t all the wonders they see it as. They’d get older and stop believing in fairy tales and wishes coming true.

Just like Scarlet.

Those thoughts filled her heart with aching pain.

Her mother and Maxseen have grown up to still believe in those stories, believe that wishes

could come true. They have still seen the world in its magic and color as they got older, as time started to settle on them and show that things where’t like they always seemed. But they had

chosen to believe, to see the good and beauty in everything around them.

Scarlet’s mother had lost that the last time she’d looked into her gray eyes. They had seemed lifeless. They had no longer had the shimmer of love in them; they were dull, like the Forbidden Forest. She kissed Scarlet’s forehead with a light touch, lingering there for longer than her soft kisses would. She said she loves Scarlet more than anything and then left, taking Scarlet’s wonder for the world with her.

Maxseen still had that sparkle in her eyes. She had given a little bit of her wonder and love to Scarlet, helping her see the world as Max did.

Scarlet wasn’t going to let another person lose that.

She pushed herself to keep going deeper into the dark. The crystals lighting the path with every step she made.

A comforting warmth like a summer sun pushed the icy cold from the forest away, hugging Scarlet gently, putting her fears to rest, and letting a hopeful feeling run through her veins.

The ground began to shake, and the crystals went black; the whispers of wishes and glimmer of hope gone. A low growl shook the pit of Scarlet’s stomach. She stepped back when the earth shook. A pair of red-orange cat-like eyes shone in the pitch-black.

They looked into Scarlet’s heart. They didn’t have the same comforting feeling as the crystals. They felt like a stone, cold and hard. The eyes narrowed as they studied Scarlet. The sense of burning shards stabbed into her chest.

Her mind began to tell her to run, that it was dangerous. The fear returned, and her legs begged to leave, but the sharp eyes kept her glued to the ground.

Her breathing picked up, leaving her to shake. She couldn’t hear anything but the beating of her panicked heart. Her throat clogged with screams that never made it past her lips.

The smell of burning fire filled the cave as smoke emerged from the darkness.

A taste of ash lingered on her tongue.

The eyes shifted higher. The crystals snapped back to life, allowing Scarlet to see the owner of the eyes.

Fur darker than the deepest parts of space sparkled like the jewels lining the walls cast their light, making it feel like Scarlet was gazing into space and seeing countless stars dance, laugh, and sing. Wings stretched out and beat; they sent a cool breeze through Scarlet’s hair, and she could hear the strength they held. The underside of the wings’ spikes, horns, and claws were a blend of a sunset. Her talons looked sharper than a sword as they dug into the ground, leaving a scar in the hard stone. Scarlet fell back, her voice trapped in her throat as she stared dumbfounded at the creature before her. Her mind raced with questions trying to find an explanation for what she was seeing.

Part of her was relieved she had found what she had been looking for, but the other haft couldn’t help but think that this was a dream. That when she had hit her head, she passed out.

Her mind raced, trying to find a reason for the thing in front of her. Dragons aren’t real. The stories about the giant fantasy creatures were nothing more than, well, fantasy.

Right?

But this couldn’t be a dream. Scarlet felt the heat from the dragon’s heart, hidden in her chest. Scarlet could feel the slight pinch in her palm as she tightened her hands into a tight grip, digging her nails into her skin. Scarlet could smell the strong scent of smoke that emerged from the dragon’s breath. She could still feel the pounding from when she hit her head outside the cave.

Everything felt too real to be a dream.

She knows how to tell if it was a dream. Before Scarlet met Maxseen, she studied and learned how to lucid dream. She liked the feeling of having control of her fears. Going her whole life, having things go south out of nowhere took its toll on her. So being able to go into a world where she could control her surroundings was something she craved.

Everything about the cave, the crystals, the dragon were too real to be a dream.

A roar raddled the floor, dragging Scarlet out of her thoughts. She looked up, meeting the dragon’s eyes, the cold feeling setting in her chest again. The creature lowered her head closer to Scarlet, giving her a better view of her eyes.

They held power and strength that left them feeling frozen and blocked off, unlike the warm fire the iris’ held. Just a bit farther into the eyes was strength and wisdom; They held more than a thousand years of living. The sparkes of knowledge showed how much the dragon had seen and learned over her long years. Showen all the good and evil she had witnessed through the ages. Battles after battles, the carefree laughter of little kids that explored the world shown as nothing but a bright candy land of wonder and the pain of loss.

Hidden in the deeps corners of her eyes, Scarlet could see the caring, kind, loving gaze of a mother, close to the same soft look that Scarlet’s mom had. In the mix of love, there was the sadness of someone who had lost so much. Her eyes looked exhausted from her long life.

The stern look on the surface shielded the raw emotions that the monster’s eyes carried. It acted as a wall, blocking out the world to keep her safe.

A similar wall Scarlet had.

She growled again, quieter than the others. It rumbled out of the dragon’s throat, giving the sign that she was waiting for Scarlet to speak. To tell her reasoning for being in the cave.

She had been quiet for too long. She had stared at the beast longer than she should have, and she could see the inpatient manner growing in the dragon’s body language.

Scarlet moved her weight from one foot to the other and forced herself to stand taller. Forced the fear in her mind to fall into the dark. She cleared her throat and willed it to be strong; she took a deep breath, “My name is Scarlet Heart; I’m trying to find the dragon that can grant my wish.”

The dragon narrowed her eyes. Her wings shifted against her back. “It’s been a while since someone has found this cave.”

Scarlet expected her voice to be clear and powerful, able to crack the ground if she’d so wished. But the dragon’s voice was soft and sweet, a honeysuckle sort of sound.

She moved to lay down. The sparkles in her fur stirred and shimmered with the movement. She crossed her front paws in a regal-type manner. “I thought humans stopped believing in wishes and creatures like me. I’m curious, how did you find my cave?”

“My mother.” Scarlet’s voice turned quiet. The years of living without her mother, Scarlet hadn’t honestly talked of the woman that raised her. She tended to keep withdrawn about her memories of her mom. “She’d tell me stories about you.”

The dragon tilted her head to the side like a curious puppy. “Your mother told you stories?”

Scarlet nodded, her nerves increasing. She spun a thin strand of hair around her finger needing something to do other than stand there. “You,” she paused when her voice quivered, “you are the dragon that can help me, right?”

“I can help give you your wish.” the dragon nodded in the reassurance that Scarlet had found what she had been seeking. “But for you get your wish, there will be a price.”

Scarlet felt her heart sink. “I didn’t bring anything to trade.” she held her hands out at her side, a gesture that she had come to the cave empty-handed. Her mother didn’t tell her the dragon would want something in return.

She should have known that. Asking for something from a creature the world viewed as myth and fantasy was bound to ask for something in return.

But what would a being as old as this dragon want? The dragon’s cave went deep into the earth, where the light didn’t travel, where she hid her jewels, golds, and silvers she had collected over her eternal life. Even if Scarlet had brought something, it would most likely be nothing but a scrap of junk to the shining beast. Nothing of good trade.

Had she wasted her time? Wasted the time she could have spent with Max? Risked her life in the dangerous forest for nothing?

“Oh no,” the dragon shook her head, the bright sunset colors of her horns and the sparkles in her fur shifting into a dance of magic from the single movement. “The payment isn’t for me. I don’t give any wishes. I help the magic that makes it come true. The crystals that line my cave hold power to give people what they desire most. They choose the price.

“I move that magic held in crystals out into the world where they’re able to give you what you want.

“If the crystals decide that your wish is worth giving, then they provide me the ability to help you. They’ll let me know what the price of your wish is.”

“So, what would it take for me to have my wish come true?” Scarlet pulled at the sleeve of her shirt.

“It depends on your wish.” She stretched out a paw and tapped one of the jewels lining the walls with a delicate touch. “I don’t know for sure what any of the prices will be. A wish someone asked for was for her to have a child. Her price; she’d live for a hundred years, longer than a human life span, before she could bear a child. Once the kid turned 16, she’d have to return to the forest and pass away alone.”

Scarlet listened silently to the dragon’s story as she viewed the crystal’s whispers of secrets.

“What would your wish be?” She turned to face Scarlet again and waited for her to speak with a look daring Scarlet to request her wish.

The attention made Scarlet feel small, making her pull tighter on her sleeve. She shut her eyes as she gathered her thoughts. “It’s my-,” she bit her lower lip out of fear. Would this be worth it? If that mother didn’t get the chance to watch her child fully mature, would the price for Scarlet’s wish be worth the risk?

She shook her head. What was she thinking? Max did everything she could for Scarlet, for anyone that entered the girl’s life. Max would make people smile. She’d sit with strangers if she saw they were having a bad day. Maxseen was the most caring person Scarlet knew. Whatever the price was, it would be worth it. It was worth it for Maxseen.

So she opened her eyes, a new spark of determination giving her the strength to look the dragon in the eye. “It’s my friend. She’s sick, has been for a long time. The doctors say she only has a few days left to live. I want to wish her better. I want,” she stopped to think over her words, “I need her to get better. To live a full, healthy life.”

The dragon shut her eyes, covering the glowing orange from the world, “You’re asking for a wish that changes someone’s fate, Scarlet.” She shifted down to her eye level. “Do you know how much that’s going to cost you?

“Changing the fate of someone is a big deal. What the crystals want in return for your wish; You’ll have to give away part of your human form. They’re asking you to become a dragon-spawn; haft human haft dragon. Meaning you’ll become part of the forest. You’ll never be allowed to leave this place. Never be allowed to see your friend again.”

Her shoulders sagged as the dragon’s information filled the cave’s walls. The whole point of this was so she wouldn’t lose Max. If she agreed to the terms of the wish, Scarlet would become stuck in the frightful forest.

Tears weld up in the corners of her light chocolate eyes. Her father’s words overflowing in her thoughts. “You’ll always be alone. You’ll never have anyone to love you.”

But the thought of Maxseen’s family finding her alive and well. The image of people’s worlds becoming brighter just from a small smile from Max, the same way Scarlet’s world becomes brighter when she was around her closest friend. The feeling that Max would fulfill all the goals she held close to her heart was enough for Scarlet to make up her mind.

Paying that cost is the least she can do for the girl that took her in when she was at her lowest. The least she could do for the girl that made it worth smiling, worth laughing, worth loving.

She owed this to Maxseen.

So Scarlet took a long breath, and held her fists at her side, and nodded. “Please, save Maxseen.”

The dragon sighed, “Ok, if that’s what you want.”

She blew a cloud of smoke around Scarlet. It turned and spun around her, shifting from a dark mist-gray to the cold-purple of the crystals. It drifted closer, bounding itself around Scarlet, shielding her vision and cutting her off from the world.

The smoke clung to her skin, making it itch. She sucked in a cry when a stinging pain rapidly spread within her body—the feeling of fire bit into her upper and lower back. A piercing headache caused her to fall in on herself.

She screamed out.

It was hard to tell how long the pain clasped to Scarlet. Her mind had gone blank, leaving her stuck in the repeating spiral of what felt like flesh burning away and regrowing a second later.

Her sight cleared when the pain eased a little, letting Scarlet find herself lying on the stone floor. She glanced up at the dragon, her orange-fire eyes watching her every move.

Scarlet wiped the fallen tears away from her cheeks; she winced when a minor burn brushed the skin her hand touched. She pulled her fingers away, finding them painted with dark, sticky blood. “What-” her voice cracked and shook.

She struggled to push herself up. Her limbs screamed that they were hurting and exhausted. Breathing in gently, she caught sight of her reflection in the crystals; pearl white horns sat atop her head. A long midnight blue scaled tail lay on her lower back. Her shoulders now covered with white scales and the freckles she used to have, replaced with the same white scale stones. Blood dripped down her head and back at the foot of the horns and tail. A scar, the shape of a pair of dragon wings, had burned into her back.

Instead of her iris’ light chocolate brown, they now were the same color as the glowing crystals. Her pupils became slits similar to a cat’s. Her eyes now a constant reminder of her wish and the price she had to pay for it.

The tail and horns warned that Scarlet couldn’t leave the Forbidden Forest and that she couldn’t see Max.

“Wait.” Scarlet’s voice was raw as she cried out. “What about Max? How do I know my wish came true?”

The dragon tilted her head to the crystals. The reflections in the purple shifted, showing the familiar off-white room Scarlet spent hours of her past months in; a woman with long dark brown hair sat in a chair staring quietly down at her warm, golden-toned hands.

A young boy, no older than 12, with golden blond hair, and jade-green eyes, stood next to the woman staring anywhere except the bed that held a fragile girl.

Max’s cheeks had grown rosy, giving her the color she was missing for so long, giving her more life, less like a ghost. She was no longer thin and frail.

The slow movement of her raising her hand to rub tiredly at her eyes grabbed the attention of the young boy and woman. Max cracked her eyes open, letting the world see the warm blues that had been missing for so long. Looking over at the two visitors, she smiled, “Mom, Jade?” Her voice was quiet and weak from the months of not being using.

The mother cried out in joy, dragging her daughter into a firm embrace. Afraid that if she let go of Max, she’d lose her.

Her brother stared at Max in disbelief. Tears began making their way down his pale cheeks.

Max, a look of confusion written on her face, gave her usual worried grin at the sight of her Family’s behaver as the little boy joined the hug. The family held each other, not daring to let go.

Something tugged at the back of Scarlet’s shirt, raising her off the ground. The dragon turned and moved deep into the shadows of her cave, taking Scarlet with her.

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senpaiisimp · 4 years ago

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Don’t take him!

~Yuji Itadori x reader~

Warning: Little death mentions

I have a lot of fun writing short things for Yuji. I have other things for the others, they just aren’t finished yet :~

I think it's fair to say everyone in their lifetime had that one person that made their lives better. That connection that never broke even in the dark times. For Y/N that person was Itadori Yuji. He was the nicest boy one could ever meet.

Y/N had problems with families when they were little. After their parents were killed or “in an accident” as the police stated. Y/N knew better. There was something else,a spirit or something. They couldn't see it but the presence left the house with them and then their parents and the spirit never returned. Being alone didn’t bother Y/N, they were always alone. It didn't bother them till they were forced into a different situation every few months.

Being an orphan in a public school wasn’t nice either. All the kids could talk about their families when they got the dreaded family tree project every year. “What are your parents like L/N-chan?” kids always asked. “Make sure to invite your parents to the parent night!” The teacher always said. Primary school sucked to say the least. Well at first it did…

“Itadori-kun picked up a bug!!” The girls squealed and the boys stared in awe. Not that Y/N cared, though the bugs were distracting you from your book as they were scary(-_-). “Hey, L/N-chan did ya see? I got rid of the bug, now you can read yer book in peace.” Itadori said as he came over after disposing of the scary creature. You stared at him in confusion, how would this boy who you’ve known not even a week know you detest bugs more than broccoli. He seemed to read your mind. He smiled before sitting next to you. “Ya don’t like bugs right? Whenever you pick out books with animals you make sure there is nothing about bugs in them or you’ll put it back and look for something else.” He explained as he scooted closer. You being stubborn and antisocial you scooted away looking at him like he was trying to trick you. He noticed your discomfort and backed off.

As he was about to give up you spoke for the first time since you arrived. “T-thank y-you I-itadori-kun…” You shyly thanked him. You swear if the sun had a human body, it’d be him. ” Y-YOU CAN TALK” He whisper-yells. He forgot about the whole personal space thing and hugs you. “I hope we can be friends L/N-chan!” He says once he released you from the hug. As much as you wanted to say you don’t want friends his smile made it impossible.

Slowly but surely you became friends with Itadori. He didn’t make you do anything which made you uncomfortable. He was silent when you read, even when he really wanted to talk about something. Eventually you allowed him to talk as you hated seeing him fidget next you. “Itadori-kun-” “ I told you,you can call me Yuji since you let me call you Y/N.” You sighed,”Yuji-kun, what did you want to tell me about? You’ve been fidgeting since you sat down.” His smile always made your day. “Are you sure, I don’t want to bother you. You nod Well then…” His stories never cease to make you laugh. You were happy that you could stay with him forever… Till high school, of course it was high school…

Yuji had left to go see his grandfather again while you stayed at school to catch up on some peaceful reading. You notice Yuji left his textbook again so, knowing that his friends in the occult club were still here, you figured they would be able to give it to him when he came in the morning. The walk to the occult room felt different then usually. It felt almost eerie like a spirit was hanging over your shoulder. “They can’t be back, they spirits left when you met Yuji. Let’s just put his stuff in the room and go ho..me.” You were telling yourself before you say something to move swiftly across the hallway.

I forgot to mention that the years up until you met Yuji there was an eerie feeling always around you. Like someone was always holding onto your hand but never being there. Yeah that wasn’t pleasant for a young child however it was nice when you were alone in foster homes. You always thought they were figments of your imagination since it disappeared abruptly after Yuji hugged you that day. Running up the stairwell that led to the school roof you thought to yourself “It was nothing it was nothing it was nothing” repeating it till you got to the roof and hid.

Now this was a good idea when no one was at school. You could wait up here till morning and Yuji found you, there would be sunlight and your childhood ghosts would stop haunting your mind again. That thought alone kept you sane.. Until the wall from the school crashed open with said savoir Itadori Yuji fighting something absolutely disgusting to look at. “When I meant you’d find me, I didn’t mean like this.” You fake scolded him in your mind.

Watching Yuji fight was terrifying especially when he almost got crushed by the thing. To your relief he seemed to have a burst of energy all of sudden and he killed the evil looking thing in one move. Yeah that’s Yuji for you.. Impressive strength as always. He did look different tho, he looked angry and.. Possessed like. That is Yuji Itadori right? He turned out to the city spewing nonsense that you couldn’t quite hear. So you having absolute faith in him got closer when he seemed to calm down.

“Y-yuji? Is that you?” You quietly asked, still a little scared of the sudden tattoos on his seriously hot toned body. “Well look at that! This brat already brought me a person of taste. Hehehehehe'' The voice coming from Yuji’s body laughed. “Oi, They're not for sale body snatcher, give me back my body.” Yuji’s voice came next as the black lines faded from his body. After the lines all went away Yuji smiled that wonderful smile towards you opening his arms to show he’s okay. “Hey, Y/N. What are you doing up here? Shouldn't you be heading home by now?” He questioned as he made his way to hug you. “ Yuji, you're all beaten up and-” Before you could finish your analysis of the most important person in life they were cut off by a loud yell. “GET AWAY FROM THE CURSE” They both turned to look at the boy with black hair who looked more beat up than Yuji. “Is he a friend of yours? He looks even worse than you.” You teased before slowly walking over to him, he looked in pain so you didn’t want to scare him. You may be quiet but you aren’t shy or afraid of people anymore.

“Hey, I’m Y/N, the boy over there is my best friend. I think you might be confused, Yuji’s really nice if you get to know him.” Before the boy could even answer a man with a.. Blindfold on? Appeared out of thin air. “What a beauti! Nice one megumi but you're supposed to be finding the curse object not finding dates” The blindfold man said seeming to irritate the boy. After that Yuji explained the whole situation and became really scary after the white-haired man told him to. “W-what happened to Yuji, megumi-kun.. Why won’t you let me see?” You asked, Megumi had your eyes covered for about 10 seconds while loud things were happening around you. “What did you do to him?” Megumi spoke, still covering your face. Before receiving an answer you pried his hand off your face and pushed (more like punched) him away from you.

There are fears that come and go. This was one that never left. Using your loudest voice you could muster in the moment. “Y-Yuji! What did you do to him? Put him down! You can’t take him… I won’t let you!” You screamed as you went to run and get him away from the strange man. Megumi grabbed you before you could stand up. “Y/N right? Please calm down, Yuji is fine, just taking a nap. Though I do have to say this, you most likey won’t be seeing him again. He needs to come with us.” The white-haired man explained as he got closer. You felt as if you’d been stabbed through the heart. “Y-you can’t.. Y-Yuji’s all I have, if y-you take him, I’ll be all alone again. Don’t take him.. I-” You paused never saying this to anyone but your bathroom mirror. “I love him.. I really do… Please don’t take him…” You cried out in Megumi's arms. Now wasn’t the ideal time to admit your love for the boy but the thought of him being taken away..

“You really care about this kid a lot don’t you?” The white haired man started. He knelt down in front of you before pointing to the air “Do you see it, the thing next you?” He asked as Megumi released you. You did feel something grabbing your hand again, it was comforting in the moment. “T-there’s something grabbing my hand, nothing unusual for when Yuji’s not around.” You sniffled as you explained. “Are you trying to see it?” He prompted you. What is this guy crazy of course I can’t… see THE HAND ON MY LEG! You rushed to stand up and back away from it while it still grabbed towards you. “So you can, well I think that’s good enough. Megumi hold him real quick.” White hair said as he passed Yuji to Megumi. “You want to help him right?” you nod as he slowly walked towards you as backed you to the rail “ Are you prepared to help him through his pain and sadness.” You knew this answer before anyone ever asked you said with a strong voice. “I’d protect Yuji with my life any day he needed it.” The blindfolded man smiled as he brought his hand up to hold yours.” Then I guess we’ll be taking both of you then.” He said as he pulled you towards Megumi. “You're taking me with you?” “You said don’t take him, you never said don’t take both of you.”

As long as you don’t take him from me, I'll be alright.

wait till reader-chan finds out what happens on his first mission :(

#jujutsu kaisen #yuji itadori x reader #jjk #jjk yuji #itadori yuuji x you #gojo sensei

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vvaane · 4 years ago

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Evon

Hi, i’m Evon. Yea that’s the best way to start writing about a god damn serial killer, a proxy or whatever you guys call us. It’s late at night and you might be wondering why someone like me would write a book, dont i have people to kill? Cops to run from? Watch my back maybe? Nah man i used to do that before... that happened. Do you ever contemplate about your life? You know things like: what if i didn’t do that? what if i stayed silent? what if what i said once changed the whole story? Yea i know, a lot of what ifs. What can i say, i like to think. I may be a monster who kills like killing machine but i still have 'me' time.

I think i’m just rambeling now but yea another thing about me is that i like to talk, maybe too much sometimes. I wasn’t always like this though, as a child i was very quite and kinda depressed. Childhood isn’t my best memory to be honest, all i remember is wasting it on suffering and building up rage, until of course, i snaped.

Usually if someone asks me about that time of my life, i kill them without hesitation but in this case no one asked me so here we fucking go. Appriciate this because i’m not gonna talk about my shity life ever again. I was born on a beautiful day of summer, 4th of july 2000. I don’t have memories of my family, the only thing i know is that my mom commited suicide because of postbirth depression and dear old dad didn’t even bother to raise me or to even be in my life, good i killed him. Anyways, i spend my childhood at a church, raised in the name of this so called god, yea that place as holy as it sounds like, it wasn’t. Everyone feared the priest. What can i say, he was the best, always beating and torturing us many times even if we didn’t do anything wrong, my best and only friend was killed by this motherfucker. I myself got in trouble many times just because i 'wasn’t a man'. I don’t know how are you supposed to be a man at 13 years old but sure. You got 3 chances to 'go on gods way' if u didn’t make it you were send to a room that looked like an old basement of a castle. The room was dark and the only light you were seeing was from a little window, the door was big and scary honestly, when you first come into the room you would see a big statue of that bitch Mary. There the priest would give you 3 options: beat you, tie you in chains and not feed you for a week or put you in isolation for up to half a year. That guy was crazy and i’m pretty sure he hated children. Every kid would choose to be beaten because it lasted a short period of time compared to the other options. I was a maniac since i was little so i tried everything, being beaten till i was unconscious which isn’t that bad compared to the other things, i was beaten with everything you can imagine, chains, belts etc. I still have scars all over my body from that. Many kids weren’t strong enough and died. Their bodys were thrown in a room and from there they would be put then in the crematorium like they were nothing. Next i was tied and not fed, let me tell you, you get so hungry at one point you would even eat youself and i have seen one kid bite into his own arm somehow. Now the last and worst, isolation.I’ve been in isolation for maximum 2 months, i was put in a diferent room, this one had no windows so no light would come in, i felt like i was in a box, i had no bed, no nothing, i would eat once every 2 days half a bread. Many kids who went there didn’t come back. My friend was always send there even if he didn’t choose that. Dear Mike died when he was 15, i was 14 at the time.

Anyway, believe it or not that prepared me for what was next to happen. How do u think i survived the proxy training? That shit is hard but i will get there in a minute. After my friends death i felt like i wasn’t myself, i felt like some other me was taking control over my mind and body. When the priest found out about this change in my behavior he said i was possesd my some kind of demon and he performed this so called exorcisms on me that consisted in bathing me in holy water, tyeing me to the bed and saying many prayers. Useless. It wasn’t any of that. I actually had a second personality, a manifestation of my darkest and deepest thoughts and ideas. It was really hard for me to get used to this other me, over the time i even gave him a name: Devon. He became my best friend, he was the the only one who understood me. I faked being a normal kid so that the priest won’t try to take Devon away from me. I didn’t take any meds so day by day he was stonger and stronger, over the years we did many things, we destroyed a lot, first it started slow with plates and glasses but then i started to kill some animals around the church and the fact that i enjoyed it scared me at first. After i started doing this things i always felt watched, usually i was dizzy and sometimes i started to hear whispers even if i was alone in a room.

Years went by fast if i think about it, like if they were nothing, winters were the hardest because it was always cold and with all the tortureing sure it wasn’t the best thing. I was 18 when that event happned, i still remember every detail. It was summer, the weather was really hot, i was in my room when Devon took control out of nowhere, he wanted me to escape, to be free, to take revenge for every single thing they've done to me. He was right, i had to do something to get out and i wasn’t only gonna do that, i had to kill the priest and burn this place down. That church was what you guys call hell. If it’s hell then it has to burn. All day i wondered through every room in search of gasoline and matches, eventually at exactly 7:45pm i found what i needed, i stared at the objects like they were my saviours. Devon took control again and everything started, i poured the gasoline on every hallway of the church until the priest saw me, he wanted to hit me but i managed to fight him for a while, he was stronger than me so i ran away with the gasoline, i took a hatchet just to know i have something to defend myself with. I lit the match and threw it, i enjoyed the view of this place burning, i felt like i was able to dream again, i felt free and i didnt care who was still in there, the only thing that mattered was the fact that i got revenge and that im finally free. The view was ruined by the priest who was running in the woods. Of course i chased him with the hatchet until i lost him for a minute but then i heard a scream so i went in that direction. the adrenaline was overwheliming, i felt so powerful like i could do anything. After running for like a good 10 minutes i saw the priest dead with his killer getting off of him. The anger i felt in that moment is unimaginable, he stole my victim, the only person i wanted to kill with my hands, he took that away from me. I started running towards him with my hatchet. He stayed still like he didnt care, as i got closer to him i saw that he had the same weapon as me. I stopped and he smiled at me:

-You remind me of myself when i was little.

-I don’t fucking care what i remind you of, you just killed my victim!

-I’m Toby, Ticci Toby, nice to meet you...

- Evon, i said hesitantlly. Why are u doing this?Being nice.

-Thats a rule i have to follow, don’t kill or be rude to other killers.

Thats what changed everything, right after that i saw this faceless man behind Toby, he wasnt scared at all. This creature began speaking to me somehow.

-Child, i can give you a new home and i can let you be who you are, you don’t have to be afraid!

I didn’t have a place to go to so i accepted, i didnt know the training was gonna be so hard and long though. First i had to fight every proxy and that Masky guy left a scar on my face that went over my eye and my eye changed colour, from brown it went bloody red. Then i had to learn how to kill, how to survive, how to run from cops, it was hard for me but Toby helped me a lot. We got close and he took me with him every time Slends would give him a job. He was the youngest before i came in the picture. He told me his story, i told him mine. I had a friend after a long god damn time.

Now i’m 21 and i’m one of the best proxys Slender ever had. Toby is still the best of the best and to be honest he deserves the title. That’s my story. Now that you know it you should be prepared because i might come for u next.

#text #literature #creepypasta #creepy #revenge #short story #priest #church #personality change #ticcy toby #jeffery woods #jeff the killer #slender proxy #slenderman #masky #betrayal #grunge #murder

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watarigarasu · 4 years ago

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October 20th – Haunted Building

13 Days of Spooky Writing Event

Pairing: Tauriel x Reader

Word count: 1,914

Warnings: None

Author’s note: I have literally no idea what happened here, this story practically wrote itself. :) Also, it takes place in modern setting!

You could still recall the excitement flowing through your veins like a molten gold, the sweet buzzing in your heart and the warm squeeze in your stomach when you finally heard the words you were dreaming about for so long now. It was hard to comprehend that they were not part of your wild imagination, nor another made up scenario you created in your head right before falling asleep—those were actually real. Her offer was honest and it was no kind of joke, you did not misunderstand anything from the very direct and simple invitation, it was no mistake.

Tauriel truly asked you to join her in the amusement park next Tuesday.

However, right when the very first wave of bliss eventually faded away, you started to worry and as the time passed, the anxiety growing in your mind seemed to expand, almost completely blinding the previous joy. Countless questions piled, one more ridiculous than another but every single one of them occupying your thoughts for longer than you would want it to. It was enough to be stressed about meeting with the prettiest, the most talented and charismatic girl in your university—or so you considered her—worrying about any other, more or less possible scenario happening during that day was unnecessary for your already cluttered head.

What if she did not mean only you two, but some of her other friends also? There were always people surrounding her, two particularly handsome and apparently polar opposite boys accompanying her more often than the others. What if it was supposed to be simply a group meeting? What if you would make a fool of yourself one way or another? And most importantly, what if she did not see you the same way you saw her?

You barely managed to fall asleep for the whole hour at least during the night before, now nowhere near excited but rather scared of what was coming up. It was either the best opportunity to finally start talking to her about something less trivial or to prove her that you were not worth her time. Your worry increased as the inevitable hour was getting closer and closer and it peaked when you were standing at the amusement park’s main gate.

Although the afternoon was chilly, there was a lot of people on the carousels, buying deliciously smelling snacks and running from one attraction to another in a hurry. The sky became dark some time ago but it only made all the decorations and lanterns light more brightly, the variety of sounds and colours surrounding you from every direction. Fallen leaves rustled on the wind, the trees reached their branches up like a shadowy claws of some nightmare creatures and the overwhelming aura of upcoming Halloween was visible in every single corner of the fair.

Still, all you could think of was her. What are you going to talk about? Will Legolas be there, too? Perhaps you should eat something before going out, your stomach was starting to grumble but the stress prevented you from eating anything quite successfully. You were present few minutes ahead of time (speaking of making a good first impression) and you felt like waiting for her will be the worst part of it all. Once you start to talk, things should go smooth from that point.

Right…?

“There you are!” Tauriel’s voice cut through the cacophony of mechanical melodies, children’s giggling and screams of those who dared to try the hammer ride, and it was both the most breath-taking and frightening moment of your life. Slowly, you spun around to face her and saw the gentle smile on her sharp features. “I started to worry you won’t come.”

Quick peek over her shoulder proved you that she had no company this time. Just you and her.

“Why shouldn’t I?” You sighed with relief after your recent discovery. “I told you I’ll be here. Besides, I’d let you know beforehand if something happened.”

“I’m glad it didn’t then.” She looked at the booth you were standing next to and eyed the spooky themed candies before continuing. “Should we head to the main attraction of the day or do you want to buy something?”

Even though you liked the bat-shaped lollipop, you have forgotten about it already and agreed to go with her. The screams of those stuck on the rollercoaster did not create the most romantic mood but all you could think of was how picturesque her long hair looked in this peculiar scenery, ginger colour fitting her green blouse perfectly.

You wondered how would it feel to run your fingers through them.

The house of mirrors was an excellent choice for the first attraction to attend to, and you were proud that it was your idea to try it out. It was not as extreme as some rides and you had an opportunity to hear Tauriel laugh out loud, which happened to be yet another of her many advantages—her voice so carefree and fresh like a spring morning. Or maybe, you were simply growing too poetical around her.

“The labyrinth was fun,” she stated once you were out of the hall. “But I have to admit I lost the tracks at some point.”

“And why didn’t you tell me so? I told you I can find a way out just fine.”

“I didn’t want to ruin the great first impression. Plus, I was supposed to be the guide, right?” She winked at you.

“Next time I’m going to be the guide. No getting lost and certainly no mirrors which make your face look like a smashed potato.”

Tauriel chuckled and agreed with your words.

“Certainly. But you have to admit, the one which made us really tall was interesting. I suppose I could get used to being that tall.”

“It would suit you well,” you nodded and felt the next sentence leave past your lips before you managed to stop it. “And your adorable pointy ears.”

Tauriel suddenly stood still and reached her ears with the hands, replying to you before the wave of embarrassment managed to drown you completely:

“Do you really think they’re pointy?” She touched the tips, her expression unreadable.

Vaguely gesturing, you tried to desperately think of an answer which would not discredit you in her eyes.

“I think they’re pretty. A little bit pointy, yes, but I always thought it gives you this mystical look. Like an elf or something...” With every next word, your tone was becoming quieter, until you finished your sentence with a forced smile, hoping that you managed to convince her that you meant no harm.

For a moment, she did not answer you, instead tilting her head to the side and then lightening up, before saying:

“Well then, thank you for the compliment. Still, I believe they’re not even partly as ravishing as your eyes, my dear.”

Contrary to the previous idea, the one Tauriel came up with appeared as more concerning in your opinion. It was not the matter of being scared per se, but rather the possibility of doing something reckless in front of her. You wanted her to like you, to think of you as no less interesting than all the boys she was surrounded with, and even though you knew that you cared about her opinion way more than you should, it was impossible to stop. Not now, when your repressed feelings were finally finding a way out. It could be the only one opportunity to impress her and you were certainly not going to waste it on anxiety.

Or so you thought.

“It’s a really, really bad idea,” you whispered after crossing yet another corridor in the haunted house. “I don’t like it at all, it’s way too quiet.”

“It can only mean one thing,” Tauriel pointed out matter-of-factly. “Soon we’ll witness something spooky.”

Holding your breath, you did your best to not let the heart jump out of your ribcage. You were as close to Tauriel as possible, naturally, keeping in mind to not cross the line of her personal space. As much as you wanted to hold her hand, you were not sure if she would approve it. The corridor, on the other hand, seemed to be endless, decorated in fake webs, some splattered blood and other remotely disturbing decorations, none of which jumped on you all of a sudden.

The booth with candies was much more entertaining but right now there was no coming back, nor time to complain.

Tauriel stopped abruptly and placed a finger to her lips, only then pointing at the closed door you reached to. There was no way it was going to be simply a part of decorations, you admitted bitterly, surely you were being watched and had to experience a pitiful attempt to frighten you based on primal, human instincts and yet—

You did not expect for the hairy monster to jump at you so suddenly but even less did you expect Tauriel to grab your hand, shield you with her body and pull you after herself further into the corridor. From the perspective of running, all the stuffed creatures were not as scary as they could be if you paid the whole attention to them and even if you did, Tauriel’s fingers closed on your wrist were enough to make you focus on something completely, completely different.

She was holding your hand, Tauriel was holding your cold, clammy hand as you both ran through the haunted house, avoiding the jump scares and traps and laughing so hard that your stomach started to hurt. Maybe it was the nerves which made you act so ridiculously or maybe in that moment you were ironically the happiest person on the whole planet, when nothing but you two mattered—you, your connected hands and the silly run through the corridor full of plastic figures and eerie sounds.

No kind of love tunnel could bring as much adoration from you as the haunted house on that windy, autumn afternoon.

When you finally managed to find a way out, you noticed how Tauriel’s cheeks were slightly redden from the effort and emotions but the smile on her face still lasted and the spark of joy present in her gaze as she looked at you.

“Are you alright?” she asked and let go of your hand, muttering. “Sorry for your sleeve.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “Yeah, I’m fine. But I suppose I’ve had enough for one day.”

“And for the rest of my life, too,” she admitted and noticing your puzzled expression, quickly added. “I’m not really fond of those places, you know. But I can’t say this idea wasn’t successful.”

“What do you mean?”

“Playing your knight in shining armour against that bear-like-whatever was quite entertaining.”

This time you were more than sure that she winked at you, there was no mistake, her playful expression proved that well.

“Oh…” you were speechless. “Well then, I like the sound of that.”

“Good, because next time I’m going to use my marvellous skills with a bow and arrow to slay the dragon. But first, what would my princess say for a cup of mulled wine?”

You allowed her fingers to meet yours in a delicate grasp, when you slowly headed back to the food booths, all the anxiety leaving you as soon as you felt the cold air on your skin and Tauriel’s hand upon yours once again.

“She’d like that,” you nodded. “Very much so.”

#13daysofspookywritingevent #13 days of spooky writing event #tauriel x reader #tauriel #tauriel x fem!reader #the hobbit #modern!au #modern au

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troped-fanfic-challenge · 4 years ago

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Voting for Chopped Choice: Horror is officially OPEN!

You know how voting works so we wont bore you with lots of details. Remember to rank fics based on the USE of the tropes and theme and to rank ALL fics in each question, so we can avoid any technical difficulties! Your #1 spot should be the best answer and your last spot the least likely answer for the question. Please try and read all the fics so you can vote fairly! Reminder, you must include a URL, and you may only vote once, we will NOT count multiple votes by the same person.

Voting will be open until October 30th at 11:59pm EST! You can vote here:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/HKZGDNQ

For this event, the writers had to create a story with the theme of their choice and include four tropes of their choice with at least one trope from the horror section! Thanks to all our AMAZING writers, these fics were so spooky and we are so glad you decided to share them with us!!

———

guess we’re alike that way (Rated T) [Murphy/Octavia]

Summary: Octavia died 25 years ago. The answer, by the way, is ghosts. Just ghosts. Yeah, it’s just as bad as it sounds. Especially Murphy. Why did the only living person who could see her have to be fucking Murphy?

The Haunting of Kane Manor (Rated M) [Bellamy/Clarke]

Summary: When Roan offers Clarke and Bellamy a hundred grand to stay at a fake haunted house for a night for his new reality TV show, they jump at the chance. But what happens when it turns out to actually be haunted?

cause i know in the morning you’ll be gone (how am i supposed to carry on?) (Rated T) [Echo/Wells]

Summary: Wells liked things to make sense.

Allying themselves with Azgeda when the opportunity came up made sense. Doing whatever it took to make that alliance stick made sense. Entering an arranged marriage with a woman he’d never met for the sake of his people made sense.

The butterflies in his gut whenever he locked eyes with the Azgedan ambassador who was decidedly not his fiancée made no sense at all.

Imitation (Rated M) [Murphy/Emori] *Major Character Death*

Summary: In a remote research station on the planet Nakara, Emori is just starting to get into a rhythm with her work when things take a turn for the worse. It starts off with a dog bite but it leads into a desperate race to survive, as the infection spreads and it turns out that her fellow teammates aren’t all who they appear to be. The race against time will involve keeping emotions and personal feelings in check while trying to stop the creatures from picking them all off one by one.

you can stand under my umbrella (Rated T) [Clarke/Murphy]

Summary: Abandoning the children was definitely a no-no on field trips. But does it really count when you’re just completely, genuinely lost in a corn maze?

After six years of working with him, Clarke still doesn’t know Murphy’s first name, and at this point its definitely too late to ask.

Mad Women (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Summary: Four-hundred-and-twenty-three days in the never-ending darkness of the uncharted universe, and Murphy’s starting to wonder if space madness really is setting in. At least he’s not as far-gone as Raven, hidden away in her laboratory, fiddling with alien tech; or Clarke, who is steering them steadfastly into the deep unknown of ‘haunted space.’

Something isn’t right here, even if Bellamy and Octavia don’t want to see it.

When their little ship receives a distress call from an old friend, the tensions between captain and crew finally come to a head, and Murphy faces more than one unpleasant truth.

Bury a Friend (Rated M) [Murphy/Emori, Bellamy/Clarke, Raven/Shaw]

Summary: As part of their Halloween tradition of trying to scare themselves, Emori, Murphy, Bellamy, Clarke, Raven and Shaw decide to step it up this year by exploring an abandoned Asylum - only, it’s not as abandoned as they once thought.

it was only a dream? (Rated T) [Spacekru]

Summary: It’s just another ordinary day on the Ring until someone points out that it’s Halloween. That’s when things get weird.

the ghost in you, she don’t fade (Rated E) [Bellamy/Clarke]

Summary: The wooded area behind the Collins’ property stretches for about nine square miles with the highway into town bordering the far side and the Blake property guarding the southernmost corner. Nine square miles.

It might as well be a million.

Clarke takes another fortifying breath.

It does no good to think about Bellamy. He’s no longer part of the equation. He’s made that abundantly clear.

The Wanheda Tape (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Summary: “It’s the Wanheda Tape. You gotta remember this. It happened like five or six years ago. Those dumbass college kids went into the woods out past the auto shop and got lost and never came back… Seriously, what were you two doing in the fourth grade, living under a rock?”

de omnibus dubitandum (Rated M) [Lexa/Echo/Josephine]

Summary: After vampires took over the world, the Hunter Association was the only thing that stood between the creatures of the night and the rest of humanity. Lexa, commander of the association, was determined to bring the world to a better place, no matter the cost.

And then she met Josephine Lightbourne.

slay your demons (Not Rated) [Jasper & Monty]

Summary: He doesn’t like this. He never has. There is a reason he self medicates with booze and drugs: It’s to stop seeing people like her - dead people.

Umbrella Academy AU but make it Monty and Jasper.

More Than I Do (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Summary: Mysterious circumstances surround the sudden tragedies afflicting Clarke’s loved ones. Can she figure out why before she loses everyone she cares about? Maybe not, but she’s willing to die trying.

———

Honorable Mention of this submission to the Non-Anon Collection. It won’t be counted in the voting, but we’d love for you to read it!:

I’m Demon Proof, Baby (Rated T) [Murphy/Emori] by Anonymous

Summary: Arcadia Investigates is well into its fifth or sixth season, depending on how you count it, and Wilmington Hospital has been just begging for a visit.

Clarke thinks it’s very scary. Murphy thinks it’s very fake.

Bellamy and Emori are mostly just there to make sure someone gets some usable footage.

———

Please try to read as many fics as you can, take some note, leave some kudos/comments for the authors, and don’t forget to vote!

#chopped choice: horror #chopped choice 3.0 #voting

23 notes · View notes

lifebeginsbyleaving · 4 years ago

Text

Accidental Amnesia Amnesty

Hello, this is for sterek bingo 2020. I have so many other ideas planned and a few other prompts written so I’m excited to finally be posting them!!! I used the tags mistaken identity and full shift werewolves.(I also used fake relationship, but forgot to say.) So this fic changes some of canon, but everything before the cop car scene and everything after the end of the third episode is canon. I tried to make it fit as well as I could, but this is my first time sticking to canon so closely so I might've missed something. Thanks for reading!!!

All he had to do was not run into Melissa. Easy as pie.

"Stiles?"

Shit.

He spun around with a grin as his jacket flapped in his hand. "Hey Mels bells!"

She squinted in confusion at him. "What are you doing here?"

Stiles scratched his arm and scrambled for an answer. "Well as you know, Scott and I are very close. Arguably the closest. Best friends and all. I was just wondering if you've seen him around?"

She looked at him disbelievingly. "You came here, to my work, to ask where Scott is?"

Stiles took a moment to consider. "Yeah. Sure. I mean, absolutely."

"And you didn't think to, I don't know, call first? Or check the house where Scott would most likely be? And last I knew, usually always is right about now?"

"You know, I should've. I guess it just slipped my mind." Stiles tried to look not guilty as he discreetly hid his bloodied hands and jacket behind himself.

She looked at him for a moment. "Right. Okay, you are going to stay right here and I'm going to call your dad."

Stiles startled. "Oh that's not-"

"Save it mister. I don't know what you're up to, but I have patients to deal with so I can't figure it out. Sit down."

Fuck. Stiles went and sat down to await his doom.

His dad was going to be so pissed. Lately Stiles had been butting into cases a lot. Every time he mentioned something he figured out he saw how much stress he was causing his father by him not staying out of it, but there was this buzzing. This feeling that never left him, not even in sleep, that something was coming. Something big and changing. Something that would hurt the ones he loved if he didn't figure it out. With his very recently widened world view to involve the supernatural, it added even more weight to the feeling. It was this indescribable itch at the back of his mind that only seemed scratched when he was figuring out his father's cases before he could get hurt. But he couldn't explain any of that to his father, so he just played it off as the nosey kid.

His father tried multiple times to keep him away from it, and it worked once his father had been reported. Some jackass told his superiors that Stiles was poking around some old files and now he had a lady from the FBI questioning his every move.

Stiles knew he should just let it go, let it all blow over, but there was something about this. This case. This week. This feeling.

This feeling wasn't just him fearing for his life. This feeling wasn't him wondering if he'd make it through his high school years. This feeling wasn't him worrying about his dad getting shot stopping some punk knocking over a liquor store. This feeling he had didn't even go away once Scott was bit, it wasn't that simple. This feeling wasn't just about his best friend suddenly becoming a creature of the night. This feeling wasn't just one simple thing. This feeling was everything.

This feeling told him that everything before now was what was leading up to something, and everything after would never be the same again. This was Scott and werewolves and there was something about Derek. Something he couldn't figure out. This feeling told him that it was important, it was all important. This feeling told him no matter what, he had to figure it out.

Stiles didn't like not knowing, not being able to trust what he saw.

Looking down at his hands and the blood caked on them he wasn't sure he could trust what he just saw. He didn't know if he could trust the memory because everything just happened so fast.

One moment he was in trouble with his father because he found yet another crime scene, the other half of the body, and the next his father's boss was questioning both of them. Soon enough he slipped away and into the unobserved police car to speak with Derek Hale, well more like accuse. Then he was being pulled back out by his father and getting yelled at while the sheriff looked nervously over at the woman raising an eyebrow and looking more and more sure. His father told Scott to stay so he could talk to him, most likely express disappointment.

He heard chatter as he walked back to his car about how they had a more nailed down date of death, it had been a day earlier than they thought.

Soon enough, he was starting Roscoe and watching the patrol car taking Derek away, along with all the answers. The buzzing, the feeling, was back. The next second he was shifting into gear and following behind the car.

The next hour happened in the blink of an eye.

He was thinking about how the girl/wolf was buried then, there was a big, snarling blur and the patrol car was shoved off the passing bridge.

Stiles swerved to the shoulder before the bridge.

By the time he was looking down to the bottom of the stream, Derek was dragged from the car.

By- by something Stiles couldn't believe. Scott being a werewolf was one thing. That- that hulking scarred beast with hollow red eyes was another.

Stiles stood frozen in the flash of movements as the monster bashed Derek's head against a rock and raked his claws down him as he fought. His hands trembled as the monster's claws dug into the back of Derek's neck and Derek's arms went slack, he stopped grappling with the beast's terrible paws.

It's giant jaws cracked open and it spoke, horrifying Stiles further.

"Forget or you will die like her. You will die like your sister."

Stiles' mind raced to the bat in his Jeep.

He scrambled to get it and in doing so he brushed the string of flowers he had taken from around the body.

A truly stupid idea flashed in his mind as he remembered an article about wolfsbane.

He saw the flower wrapped rock sail and for once his aim was good enough.

It landed with a similar thud as the stone in Stiles' belly as the beast looked down at it then directly into his eyes.

It tilted it's head and sniffed the air, and still he knew this fear, this pants pissing fear, wasn't the feeling he was dreading.

In the blink of an eye he couldn't see the glowing red anymore, but he could still see the stare even as he clamped his eyelids shut.

When he opened them again he saw red, trembling red. The overhead system called out for a doctor of some sort, but all he heard was the sickening crack of skull against rock.

Over- Crack! And over- Crack! And over- Crack! And over- Crack! And over- Cra-

Stiles bolted up and ran.

He threw open the bathroom door and began scrubbing at the blood coloring the swirling cold water. No matter how hard he cleaned his hands it seemed more blood kept pouring onto them.

Two men walked in while talking.

"-Hale is in stable condition."

Stiles was brought out of his thoughts and cycle of seeing himself fail at holding the blood inside Derek's body.

"I don't know how he made it. That kid is a miracle. Some of the injuries weren't as bad as originally thought. Gave the EMTs a real scare with all the blood, I heard. And he's not even in the ER any more, he's in 309. You should see th-"

Stiles was out the door in an instant.

He knew exactly where the room was.

As he went by Melissa, thankfully distracted by an urgent patient, he hid until he could dart around the corner.

He tried to as calmly as possible, run to the room.

Once outside he barged right in. His father wouldn't be here yet, but there wasn't any time to waste. He would be soon.

Looking at the pale man in front of him, everything stood at a stand still. He stared at him and thought for what felt like hours.

What if he woke up? What was he supposed to say? 'Hey, you know I hope you don't hold it against me that I accused you of murder.'

Oh God. Stiles had a fear inducing idea.

If the murdered woman was a werewolf, what if she was murdered by that beast? And Derek was a werewolf too, did that mean- the murdered lady was Derek's sister, and the one the beast was talking about? Stiles accused him of murdering his sister?!

Holy shit.

He so didn't kill his sister. He wasn't the alpha. He wasn't the threat. Or maybe he was. If he was a werewolf he could still be a threat.

Stiles studied him.

Right then he didn't look like a threat. He didn't look scary. Hell, he didn't even look like a werewolf. He looked- broken. And scared, and hurt. And my god Stiles had never seen someone look so sad in the peacefulness of sleep.

It made him wonder if he laid his hand over his if it would comfort him, if he was the type of sad that meant he was just lonely. He looked at Derek and remembered the papers and stories.

His own face twisted in sorrow.

He looked at his prone healing form and knew.

Derek was the type of sad that knew loss. He knew it better than he knew himself to the point that who he was might as well have been added to the body count of people lost to him.

Stiles ached for the man he, up until moments ago, thought and accused of murdering his own sister.

He came closer and stood next to his bed.

The feeling felt wrapped up with Derek some how. Like he was vital to figuring it all out.

He lifted a hand to offer comfort.

The monitors beeped faster and Stiles looked over at them.

When he went to check Derek's face his eyes were open, and glowing electric blue.

"Jesus!" Stiles ripped his hand back.

He looked confused, and alert. "Where am I?"

"Warn a guy!"

"Where am I?"

Stiles huffed. "Where do you think genius? The hospital."

"Why am I here?" He still looked confused, but more calm.

Stiles frowned. "You don't remember the accident? Or the-"

"I was in an accident? Were you there?" Derek's eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "You were there right? You held my head and cried and cursed the ambulance for taking so long."

He paused.

"Who are you?"

Stiles was taken aback. He squinted. "Derek?"

Derek looked at him with a contemplative look, then looked at the tubes going into him with concern. "Who's Derek?"

Stiles didn't have time to process his shock as the door swung open and his father marched in.

"Stiles?!" His father looked furious. "Mieczysław Genim Stilinski!"

Derek's eyes went wide.

Stiles quickly grabbed his hands to cover his claws.

His father took a brief pause at the hand holding, but quickly schooled his face.

Stiles winced. "Hi Dad?" He felt Derek's claws retract.

His dad turned to the woman with him.

"Save it Sheriff. I see the complaints about your gross disregard for procedure by involving your son aren't unfounded. Pray, do tell me there is a reasonable explanation why your own son is in the room with a murder suspect? After the body, the second half that is, I only needed one more reason for your review. It seems now I have one."

Stiles' wide eyes quickly became hard with determination.

Derek looked at him and immediately knew what ever came out of his mouth was going not going to end well, despite knowing him for less than three minutes.

"I have a perfectly reasonable explanation."

His father covered his face with his hand and his shoulders raised to tense against the incoming response.

"Derek is my boyfriend."

Stiles' face was filled with conviction, but the the other three surrounding him went wide with shock.

The sheriff's hand fell from his face as he gaped at his son, but soon enough he turned to Derek. Gone from his gaze was the confusion, now all that was there was a murderous edge as he stared right into Derek's soul.

Derek swallowed and turned to Stiles. "We are?"

The confusion was back ten fold.

"Stiles if this is one of your tricks or schem-"

"Derek doesn't remember anything." Stiles blurted.

All eyes turned to Derek.

That wasn't true. He remembered waking to pain and someone holding him in their lap. Repeating over and over, 'You're going to be okay. We're okay.' He remembered shiny brown eyes and moles. He remembered the hammering of a heart that some how calmed his own as he faded in and out of consciousness. He remembered holding a hand as his body felt like it had been drained of too much to recover from. He remembered thinking he had to hold on, or maybe he was told that.

He remembered having an anchor to reach for.

He remembered all of that but he kept quiet.

The sheriff once again turned to him. "Is that right?"

Derek tried to clear his dry throat. "Which part, sir?"

He fixed him with a hard glare. "Both."

Derek looked to Stiles and considered. He didn't remember anything, so he didn't know if what he said was true. Stiles turned away from his father to look into his eyes and he gave him a very meaningful look as squeezed his hand. Like, 'Hey, agree with everything I say please!'

He looked at him and he couldn't muster up love. When he had looked at the sheriff he felt fear and respect, but looking at Stiles there was no love or even adoration. There was something there though, it felt like he trusted him. He didn't know if it was his face or his eyes, or maybe even that the only memories he had included him.

He turned back to answer honestly. "I don't remember anything before I woke up, and I don't know if we are together. I didn't even know my own name before he told it to me."

The woman spoke up. "I'm sorry wait a second, weren't you the one that found the body. Then you reported Mr. Hale? You reported your own boyfriend?"

Stiles looked at her and narrowed his eyes. "Wouldn't you report your boyfriend if you thought he murdered a lady? I was raised by a cop, not a monster."

His dad came farther into the room and showed obvious unease and pointed looks towards where their hands were still intertwined. "So why are you here now? If Derek really did murder that lady-" He gave Stiles a firm, but consoling look. "I will find out. And he will go to prison."

Stiles felt Derek tense, so Stiles tightened his grip. "He didn't. He didn't kill her."

The FBI agent gave him a cutting look.

His father pushed out a breath as he shook his head. "Kid, you're killin me here. You just told me he did. We literally just came from the crime scene you found and told us he did it."

Stiles set his shoulders. "And now I'm untelling you. Some new information came to light."

Stiles saw the glint of light that every once and awhile reflected off of his father's badge and into his eyes. "New information? Who's your source?"

"I am."

His father gave him a dubious look. "We can hardly take the word of a teenager over evidence. You, yourself found the other half of the body on his property! Stiles you're not dumb, look at the evidence. You might think you care for him and want to protect him, but we can't disregard evidence on the word of a significant other." It looked like every time he had to refer to their relationship, it pained him. "Much less an easily manipulated teenager with an older boyfriend." He gave a pointed, murderous look to Derek. "Which will be dealt with."

Derek turned to Stiles and now that he was more focused he could see the obvious youth that the curiosity in his eyes had hid before.

Stiles stood considering for a moment, then he let go of Derek's hand to face his father. "I know he didn't do it because on the way out I heard Ella say the time of death was a day earlier than you thought."

His father once again looked disappointed. "Stiles what does tha-"

"And he was with me that day."

The FBI agent looked skeptical. "The entire day?"

Stiles addressed her. "I went to school that Thursday, but he saw me right away after. And the medical examiner, Ella, said she didn't die till later at night anyway."

His father once again looked harsh and his face darkened. "How late did he stay?"

Stiles closed his eyes and hoped he wasn't pulling Derek out of the frying pan and into the fire. He looked into his father's eyes. "I knew you'd get off at four, so he left at three. So there was no way he could've killed her."

Derek looked shocked at the new information.

Stiles nervously went to scratch at his head with his still shaking hands and in doing so, brought his flannel away from his body.

The homicidal look his father had melted instantly into one of worry. "Is that blood?!"

Stiles looked down to his t-shirt where a spot of drying blood was causing his shirt to stick to his body. Stiles quickly pulled his hand back down so his flannel would cover it once again.

His father rapidly approached him and ripped his flannel away to inspect the large stain.

Stiles pushed his hands away. "Dad I'm fine."

He quickly grabbed Stiles' hands and looked at the blood still wedged under his nails and he pulled the almost dripping jacket from him.

He looked up with wide frightened teary eyes. "Where? Where does it hurt son?" His voice was commanding despite how it shook.

"I'm fine."

He shook his head and grabbed Stiles' arm.

He looked at the FBI agent as he walked past. "Watch the suspect." He thought to himself, 'So I can murder him later.'

Stiles was protesting being drug behind, but his father simply yelled out a very loud, distraught, "Melissa!"

Stiles saw her look to them right before he was shoved into a different room.

"Sit."

"I'm f-"

His eyes were wild. "If you say you're fine one more God damn time, I'm gonna lose it Stiles! Why the hell are you covered in blood with shaking hands then?"

Melissa came in with a concerned look. "What is it John?"

John just pointed where Stiles was standing near the bed before speaking, "Fix him." He backed away to give her space.

"I'm alright, you don't have to worry."

She turned to Stiles with a puzzling look, but as she scanned him she caught sight of the blood and her eyes went wide just like his father's had. "Oh my god!"

"It's okay."

She ripped his shirt up and away and in her panic she smoothed her bare hand through the blood. She searched for a moment longer and then turned to John. "There's nothing wrong with him."

"I told you I wa-"

His father started to pace and gesture as he talked, "No. No, you fix him! You find what's wrong. He's lying, or hiding it. I don't care if you have to strip him naked like you used to for bath time with Scott! You find what's wrong with my boy! I don't know what's wrong. He hid it from me, I didn't know he was hurting!" He looked at her with a mixture of desperation and concern. "He's covered in blood and he needs to be okay. You need to take my boy and make him okay! My boy is hurt Melissa." His voice broke as he said the last sentence.

Stiles grabbed Melissa's arm and looked into her eyes. "Go back to work, I have to talk with him. I promise you I'm fine."

She nodded, already knowing he was, and left.

"Dad."

His father came near as the door closed and once again his shirt was pulled up.

Stiles placed a hand on top of his. "It's not my blood."

His father looked at him bewildered.

Stiles sighed. "I followed the police car. I was there when the accident happened." He hesitated for a moment. "I didn't see the driver or the truck's plate number, I just saw a big black blur hit the car off the bridge from the side." He took some solace in the fact that at least that part was true. "They drove away as soon as they realized they hit something."

His dad still had a crease of worry in his forehead.

Stiles thought quickly on his feet as he pieced together his story. "I heard Ella on the way out and figured out that it wasn't Derek. So I followed the car to get everything straightened out at the station. But then the accident happened. I went down to check on him and there was just so much. It's not my blood, it's- it's his. I tried- I got there as soon as I could." Stiles thought about the blood pouring and how the only reason Derek was even in that car was because of him and his eyes began to tear up. "There was so much blood dad. It was everywhere. I- I tried- I thought he would die-" His tears started to spill. "God I was so worried he would die in my arms- that he would die and it would be my fault."

His dad shook his head, but he just continued, "I turned him in for something he didn't do. I put him in that car. I-I - I would've been the reason he died." Stiles' words began to blur together as he spoke faster. "I would've been the one that killed him. His blood would've be- God the blood. There was so much blood. It was everywhere. The blood." Stiles' ears started to ring as he looked down at his hands and felt the sticky warmth he had washed off. "The blood dad. The blood dad. The blood. The blood." Stiles couldn't breathe.

His father pulled him into his arms. "Calm down son. Breathe. In and out. He's fine. You hear me? Derek is fine. You're fine too, you're here. With me. It wasn't your fault. You're gonna be okay. Just breathe for me boy."

"I- I can't. T-T-the blood. The b-b-blood dad."

His father pulled back out of the tight hug and gripped his hands. "Look Stiles. Look at your hands. There's no more blood here."

Stiles tried to focus on his hands and his father kissed his knuckles with teary eyes. "There's no blood Stiles. He's okay."

Stiles focused on his father's hands entwined with his and he tried to calm his breaths.

A few moments passed as he struggled with his lungs.

He nodded to his father and they both exhaled loudly.

Stiles crumpled in exhaustion and his father guided him to the floor as he pulled him back into himself. The sheriff rested his back against the nightstand and Stiles settled in between his legs.

The sheriff hooked Stiles' head underneath his chin. "We're going to have to talk about you and Derek, but right now I just want to know you're safe and out of trouble."

His voice was a soft mumble, "You can't protect me forever. I know it's your job, but sometimes I'm going to do things you don't like. That you think are too risky, but it's just me living my life."

The sheriff closed his eyes and felt a bone deep sorrow. "God, your mom would know what to do, because all I want to do is go into that room and shoot him. FBI be damned, he- he touched my boy."

Stiles internally freaked out and shook his head. He couldn't get Derek off a murder charge by setting him up for sexual assault of a minor charge when he hadn't done either. "No. He never- we never- Derek would never do that. We kept in touch long distance and when he came here that night was the only night I was able to see him. We just played video games and talked. I've never even kissed him."

The sheriff let out a relieved breath. "That still doesn't change the fact that he is twenty-three and you are sixteen." He could tell Stiles was about to say something. He thought about how upset Stiles got when he mentioned Derek being hurt. "But, I can tell how much you care about him. I am in no way condoning this. I am not okay with you being together, at all. I want this relationship to stop immediately. But I do see your care, so I won't kill him."

He tried for a joke, but they both knew if he ever found out that anything had happened he wouldn't hesitate.

"Okay."

They sat in silence for a moment longer.

Stiles worried at his lip and curled his fingers into his uniform. "Hey Dad?"

"Yeah?"

He decided not to look up at him. "Do you care? I mean I know you've said- but like sometimes it's different when it happens you know?"

"What are you talking about?" He asked with fondness.

"Do you care that he's..."

The sheriff pulled him tighter to his chest. "No. Don't you ever think that. If Derek was a nice boy your age and not a murder suspect I'd be inviting him to Sunday dinner. I don't care what your sexuality is- hell me and Melissa have a bet going of when you and Scott will get married. I don't care if you date boys instead."

Stiles relaxed slightly. "And if I want to date girls too?"

"I love you Stiles. Who you love won't change that." His father kissed the top of his head.

"I love you too pops."

They both basked in the comfort of the other for a few more moments.

"Alright we should get up. You have a lacrosse game later and I'll have plenty of paperwork I'm sure. Plus we have to take your statement, I don't know if it will clear his name though. His amnesia complicates things. Besides my back is getting sore."

"Will you need help getting up old man?"

His father pinched his side. "Oh it's like that is it?"

"Sorry I couldn't hear you over the creaking of your bones."

Stiles jumped up and away as his father swatted at him. The sheriff held out a hand and Stiles helped him up with a smile.

Stiles went for the door.

"There's still something you're keeping from me."

His heart sank.

"I don't know if it has to do with Derek or his sister or what, but Stiles you don't have to lie to me. No matter how grown you get it will always be my job, and my highest priority to protect you. I could never lose you."

Stiles nodded his head. "Yeah I know that Dad. I could never lose you either."

Stiles turned the knob and they walked out.

With all the questions his father and the FBI agent had for him Stiles was only able to catch back up with Scott right before the game.

He had decided not to tell Scott anything so he could focus on the game more. He decided it was a problem for another time. Now he needed to make sure Scott didn't shift or kill anybody.

The game went smoothly, well as smoothly as it could've. Stiles was just glad everybody was alive and Mr. Argent hadn't shot Scott.

Everything was great till his father got a call. Ella determined that the cause of death for Derek's sister was an animal attack. Stiles was relieved he was let go, but he knew he had to let Scott know. He wasn't looking forward to that.

Stiles didn't have enough information, and he definitely didn't want to get Scott involved in something he didn't know enough about.

He only told Scott that Derek was let go and he tried to push it from his mind.

He felt bad not taking to Derek after he had lost all of his memories and Stiles had claimed to be in a relationship, but his father was serious. If he so much as heard Stiles and Derek were in the same room as each other he would arrest him.

It was as forgotten as it could be, until Scott had a dream about killing Allison.

Scott wondered about maybe having Derek teach him and with his current state Stiles had to shut it down.

It only worked until Scott saw the man from the bus. Stiles tried to convince him to keep on like normal, to not do anything drastic till they could find out more. He convinced him to not cancel his, now group date, with Allison and to act normal.

But Stiles knew his best friend. If there was a chance Scott would hurt Allison and that Derek could help him not, he would take it.

That's why Stiles was disobeying direct orders from his father and parking Roscoe on the abandoned Hale property. He exhaled heavily. Best to get this over with.

The Jeep door creaked and slammed behind himself.

Derek quickly came out of the front door with a small smile already on his face.

"Scott is going to be here after he gets off work and he can't find out that you don't know shit."

Derek's eyebrows fell, but his lips quirked into a small amused smile. "Are you always this blunt and blatantly disrespectful of social decorum?"

He didn't even stop to be offended or consider. "Yes. We need to make a plan. He can under no circumstances know."

Derek easily jumped on board. "What does that mean? What can't he know?"

"He can't know that you don't know stuff. We went over this, keep up. We don't have all night." Stiles fidgeted.

Derek nodded. "Okay." He opened his door more. "Then you better come in and explain some things. Like who Scott is."

Stiles looked distrustful and unease set his shoulders.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just you well, you you is way more grumpy usually."

Derek frowned. "I'm grumpy to my boyfriend?"

Stiles' eyes widened for a second. He had forgotten about that for a moment. "You're grumpy to pretty much everybody, dude." They walked inside the house and he shut the door behind them.

Derek took a second to think as Stiles checked out the house.

Stiles spoke suddenly, "Oh! Yeah, don't forget to do that with Scott. Be grumpy, slightly mean, and entirely intimidating. Like you eat infants for breakfast."

"I act like I eat infants for breakfast?" He looked displeased.

Stiles didn't think before answering consolingly, "But in a hot way."

Derek opened his mouth and then shut it. He avoided eye contact and Stiles swore his cheeks turned light pink.

Stiles realized what he had said and cursed internally for when Derek remembered everything. That reminded him. He should ask how he's been, but first he had to figure everything with Scott out.

He told him everything that had happened so far. The game, Derek trying to help Scott, them accusing him of murdering his sister, assuring him he didn't kill his sister, the hunters, about Allison and her father, why Scott couldn't know about them dating, and especially about Scott's dream. Everything he thought Scott might talk about he covered.

Stiles took a few deep breaths after his info dump. "Any questions?"

Derek looked uncertain. "What happened with the accident?"

Stiles had left that part out, he didn't know if he could talk about it. Derek smelled the fear, and anxiety.

"We don't have to talk about it if you can't."

Stiles took a deep breath. "Nah dude, it's fine. I was following the patrol car when it hit you. This big- well I still don't really know what it was, but it was terrifying. It dragged you out of the car and- and it hit your head." Stiles' face looked confused. "Then it dug it's claws into the back of your neck. It-it looked up at me and-"

As Derek watched Stiles talk he got a distant look in his eyes. Derek reached out a hand and held onto his shoulder.

Stiles' eyes immediately snapped to his and there was a flash of fear before it melted to appreciation. Stiles took in a few breaths and continued more steadily, "It looked up at me after I threw a rock wrapped in wolfsbane at it. It said, 'Forget or you'll die like your sister.' I think it took your memories somehow. Whatever that beast was took them for a reason. You must've known something that it didn't want you too. I think whatever it took will be important. And it will be important to keeping Scott safe, so I'll help you try to remember. I think it had something to do with your sister. I think that thing hurt her and doesn't want you to figure out why. But even that doesn't make complete sense, why not kill you?"

Stiles was looking at the other side of the room with searching eyes that Derek could almost look through to see the cogs moving. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth in consideration and pulled Derek's focus with it.

He released his shiny red lip and Derek looked back to his eyes dazed. "And this thing with Scott. His dream. The person that attacked the bus driver wasn't Scott, no matter what happened to him I know he would never. Well, I hope. I don't think it was you, but I guess I don't know that for sure. However, this beast, the thing from the accident could've done it. It's the most likely suspect, but I still don't see the motive. Or why Scott is involved. Maybe this thing knew he was a werewolf and wanted something. There's just too many blanks right now. We need more evidence. We need to figure out what, or even more terrifying, who the beast is. We need to find out what it wants with your memories and wanted from your sister and what it wants with Scott. All the while keeping the police, namely my dad, oblivious. Also Scott and you both have to stay away from hunters and not provoke them in anyway until we can figure out more. And Allison. We can't let Scott hurt her. I know my best friend, he would never kill her, but he did attack me, so may-"

Derek looked alarmed. "He attacked you?!"

"Yeah. It was soon after he was bitten though. He's gotten a bit better. I don't think he would attack Allison, but I won't bet her life on it. You need to help him."

Derek furrowed his brows. "How? I don't remember anything, much less have any of the answers to things."

Stiles started to pace. "Okay. You have better control than Scott. Even now. How are you doing it? Scott said it's getting more difficult the closer it gets to the full moon so how are you doing it?"

Derek looked down at his fingers. He had noticed that he had been feeling the urge to shift more. "I don't know how to control it really. It just happens. When I feel my claws about to come out I just stop."

Stiles made a frustrated noise. "Yes, but how do you stop?"

Derek thought about it. In the time since the accident whenever he's felt pain or been stressed trying to remember he's felt the urge to lose control, but he didn't. Derek focused trying to figure out what it was. He didn't know it just happened. He would calm down. He looked up to Stiles and opened his mouth to tell him that, but he stopped.

Stiles.

He closed his mouth again. Whenever he was stressed about the accident he thought about Stiles holding him. Whenever he didn't know what to do he wondered about Stiles and what he was doing. Stiles was his anchor.

He didn't know where that word came from, but it was the only one that seemed right. Maybe he was remembering it.

Stiles let out a breath. "Nevermind, I'll try and figure it out. Let's focus on something else. How are you? Have you remembered anything else?"

Stiles was still pacing.

He had tried to remember. To remember about his sister, or who might have hurt her. He tried to remember anything about his life, but when he looked himself up he stared at the picture from the article about the fire and felt nothing personal looking at the happy large family. He felt sorry for them, he felt sad at the injustice of so many dying, but they didn't seem like his family. He couldn't remember any of their names or anything about them. He tried to remember about other things too. Like where he was before he came here. If he had a job that was wondering where he was. He had a phone, but he couldn't remember his password. Thankfully his computer was unlocked, but all he discovered from that was his porn taste and that he watched a sad amount of Netflix.

The more he found out about his past he wondered if he wanted to remember. If he wanted to remember all of that pain, the misery, the loss. Even his own boyfriend said he was grumpy. Maybe this was a chance to start over, to be better. The old Derek didn't seem like he was doing any good for anyone. Maybe he could. He could protect Stiles, he could help Scott.

"Not really. But would that even be so bad?" He tried to joke lightly, but Stiles whirled on him.

If Derek didn't remember he wouldn't be able to teach Scott and that couldn't happen. Not to mention if Derek didn't remember what the beast took it could kill all three of them and the hunters would have even more of a shot at it. Besides, it was Derek's life. He couldn't forget that. "Yes, Derek! Yes it would be! You are the only person that knows anything about this shit! There are multiple people and things out there trying to kill my best friend and I! Scott needs to learn control or he could hurt Allison and that would destroy him! We need you. We need you to remember."

Derek still didn't look convinced and Stiles already felt guilty for what he was about to do. "I need you." Stiles came closer and grabbed his hand. "I need you to come back to me so you can keep me safe. To keep Scott safe." Stiles stressed about using his emotions like this and about when Derek remembered.

Derek's face softened. "You're right. I'll try my best. You don't have to worry." Derek pulled him into his arms. "I'll keep you safe." Derek picked up on the panic from the man. "What's wrong?"

Stiles allowed himself one more moment to freak out before pulling himself together. "Nothing." He relaxed and practically slumped against Derek as strong arms held him. Stiles gripped the man back just as fiercely. He didn't know the last time anyone had hugged him, but Stiles wanted to at least give him this one.

When they finally pulled back Stiles got back on track. "I've been looking up memory information and I found some things we could try. If you're up for it."

"Yeah we can try it." Derek led them to a soot covered green couch, that despite it's ratty appearance, was quite comfortable.

They both sat and faced each other while they went through multiple exercises, but all he got was vague notions or feelings and that he liked vanilla ice cream.

"I don't think this is working." Derek was frustrated. He put a hand to his aching head.

Stiles caught the movement. "Are you still healing?"

"Yeah. Most of the bruising and broken bones from the crash healed, but there are still some slashes and the back of my neck still hurts."

Stiles frowned in concentration. "I'll look into that too. Do you want to try another exercise? We have time for one more before Scott gets off work and I have to leave."

Derek nodded.

Stiles pulled his lip into his mouth again and Derek was so distracted by the spit coated red he almost didn't realize it was moving.

"Oh! I've got one. I think this one might work, but you really have to concentrate."

Derek nodded distractedly.

"We can try and remember your family." Stiles looked around the room and amended. "From before, before everything happened. Focus on the house. On remembering what it looked like before. What it sounded like. It was probably pretty loud with so many people in one house. Maybe the floor boards creaked." Stiles took in his blank expression. "Close your eyes and remember it."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "You really think that will work?"

Stiles looked exasperated.

"I'll look stupid just having my eyes closed."

Stiles rolled his before closing them. "There? Will that work?"

Derek closed his eyes. "Fine."

Stiles continued, "Picture a spring day, like now. The old leaves would've been dull crisp brown on the ground as new ones grew. You could hear the wind blowing through the trees."

Stiles was good at this. Derek could feel the wind on his face almost.

"People moving around in the house. Your mother maybe making something, your favorite cookies. You could feel the cool wooden floor underneath your feet. The house feels pleasantly warm. The sun peeking through the trees and streaming into the windows." Derek gripped the edge of the dirt covered velvety couch and tried to remember while listening to the sound of his voice. Stiles' heartbeat was another soothing sound as he tried to lead him through the scene. "You could smell the cookies baking along with the smell of your house, your home." Derek inhaled trying to get a whiff of it, but all he got was smoke and the enticing scent of Stiles. "Picture your family gathered around the table and eating all of your favorite foods. Tasting them all." Stiles swallowed and licked his lips before continuing. Derek wondered what he tasted like. "Everyone around the table. You're happy and surrounded by your family. Do you see it Derek?"

He didn't. He didn't see any of what Stiles described. He opened his eyes and looked at Stiles' face and closed eyes.

What was going on around him faded out and he got flashes of the woods. He was walking when he saw two people. Stiles. 'This is private property,' he heard his voice say. But that was all, he was already back in front of Stiles. "Yeah I see it."

Stiles' eyes snapped open immediately with glee in them. "Really?! You do? You remembered something?"

Derek nodded at him with a smile. "Thanks."

"Awesome!"

This was the first thing he had fully remembered and he wanted more. "Stiles, how did we meet?"

He was thrown for a second. "What? Why do you want to know that?"

"I just figured, might as well start with some memories that someone else knows."

This was a bad idea. Stiles didn't actually have any memories with him and lying could fuck up him remembering.

"The doc even said to listen to stories to help me remember, and I don't have anyone else that knows me."

Stiles' gut twisted in guilt. "I'm sorry."

Derek just shrugged. "Not your fault. I just want to hear something about myself, something about you. How did we meet?"

Stiles floundered for a moment. He didn't know what to do, but he supposed he better lie. He decided to try to stay close to the truth. "Your sister and you came home to visit. You found me on your property and basically told me to get lost. But I'm persistent and I don't really know, I guess we just kept bumping into each other. And when it was time for you to leave you gave me your phone number. We haven't been dating long. You didn't want to date someone so young, but I wore you down." Stiles winked at him and tried to seem confident.

"Oh." Derek sounded surprised.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just thought it would've been the other way around."

Stiles laughed. "You thought you would've been the one to chase me?"

Derek looked confused. "Yes?"

Stiles stopped laughing. "Wait, really? Why?"

Derek lifted an eyebrow. "I must've told you, you are exactly my type." He looked through his porn, sue him, and put two and two together and figured it was because he pictured Stiles. But then he found some with women and realized that was just what he liked.

Stiles' mouth dropped open. He was, sex on legs leather jacket wearing wet dream of a bad boy, Derek Hale's type?!

"Why do you look so surprised? We must've talked about it. The disheveled hair. The wide brown eyes. The moles. And fuck God, those lips." Derek stared down at his lips and Stiles licked them nervously. "You are beautiful."

Stiles swallowed and Derek lifted a hand to cup his cheek. He brushed a thumb along blushing cheeks. "I don't know how I didn't move back here immediately to be here. With you."

Stiles' heart was hammering. "Beacon Hills is quite boring. You'd get the man of your dreams, but at what cost? We don't even have a hot topic."

Derek laughed deeply and it made Stiles take a deep breath. "See, you're so funny. You're perfect. God, I could stare into your eyes for days."

Stiles tried to joke again. "What? I thought you said my lips were great. If you're so soon to forget all about them I won't believe you."

Derek smiled. He brushed his thumb along his bottom lip and Stiles held his breath. "Oh believe me, I could never forget these."

"Ironic considering you forgot ev-" Derek leaned in and Stiles cut his own words off before Derek even touched his lips.

Fuck. Derek was kissing him. He was kissing Derek. Derek couldn't remember anything and he was kissing him because he thought they were boyfriends. Stiles was kissing an amnesiac that he convinced was dating him. God, this was all so much like Overboard. Stiles tried to focus. Derek was kissing him, yup that was a thing that was still happening. He looked at Derek's face scrunched in concentration. He nipped at Stiles' lip and he realized he wanted him to kiss him back. God he didn't know what to do! It would hurt him if he didn't. But he didn't want to kiss him because he lied. Derek was insistent and as soon as his tongue swiped Stiles' bottom lip he made up his mind.

Stiles relaxed and closed his eyes. He cautiously started to kiss him back. Derek took that as encouragement. He pushed Stiles back to lean against a pillow and put his head on the armrest. The new angle was weird. Stiles lifted an arm to tangle his fingers in the hair on the back of Derek's head to adjust the angle. Stiles used his other hand to grip one of the arms Derek was using to brace himself over Stiles. Derek was kissing messy and clumsily. Stiles had the sudden thought that this was sort of Derek's first kiss. He was far from an expert himself, but this was Derek's first. Well, not really, but kind of. Stiles wanted to make it good for him. Stiles licked his bottom lip and Derek was eager for the change. Derek was one hell of a fast learner, or maybe he had enough muscle memory. Gripping onto his bicep Stiles thought, 'Yeah he sure has enough muscles for all sorts of memories.'

Stiles pulled back and gulped in greedy breaths of air. Derek was on his neck instantly. He licked and lightly nipped till he moved to his collarbones. Stiles felt a dull pain. "Are you leaving marks?"

He pulled his mouth back barely long enough to say, "No one will see."

Derek's hand crept up his shirt and Stiles gasped. Oh shit, this had to stop right now. "Derek."

He heard a hum before more kisses were left on his neck.

"Derek we have to stop."

Derek looked up at him confused. "What? Why?"

Stiles tried to get himself under control and breathing. "Because Scott will be here soon. He can't know about any of this, he has too much going on already. I also promised my dad I wouldn't see you. Hell, if he knew I was here he'd shoot both of us. And you're not you right now."

Derek's frown turned into a soft smile. He put and arm between Stiles and the couch and he pulled Stiles into a tight hug as he buried his head into his neck. "I'm so lucky I have you."

Stiles swallowed. "Why?"

Derek pulled back and stared at him with a look Scott sometimes got when talking about Allison. "Because, you're such a great friend. And you're a good son. You're even so loyal that you don't want anything to happen with me because I'm not the man you are dating. God you're amazing. You're the best thing in my life I can tell." Derek paused for a moment before looking appreciative and grateful. "The only good thing."

Stiles didn't know what to say back to that so he was glad when Derek pressed one final chaste kiss to his lips. "If not for everything else I don't know if I'd want to remember. Before you came, I was thinking of making a new life where I could forget all the pain. But I'll remember for you. Just for you Stiles."

Stiles smiled slightly. "I should go. He'll be off soon and it's not that far of a drive."

Derek nodded at him with happy eyes.

He walked him outside to his Jeep and even opened his door. "When can I see you again?"

He asked it so hopefully that the guilt twisted at Stiles' stomach once again. "I don't know. We'll see."

Derek reached through the open window to brush his wrist against Stiles' neck. "Don't let it be long. Please."

Stiles nodded with a tight smile. "Make sure Scott doesn't find out. Act mean remember." Stiles added something at the last second. "Oh and wear the jacket."

Derek raised an eyebrow.

"It's intimidating. And-" Stiles abruptly stopped.

Derek smirked. "And?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "And stupidly hot. But I don't think it will have that effect on Scott. Just wear the jacket."

While speaking with Scott Derek tried to do everything Stiles asked. When Scott wanted to know what happened Derek gave him Stiles' tip for remembering and hoped it would work. He didn't want to be so gruff towards his boyfriend's best friend, but Stiles said he had to act normal. And his normal was apparently being an asshole. He wanted to help Scott, but he also wanted to protect him and Stiles both, so if Stiles said this was best for them he would do it. Seeing Scott's defensive posture concerned him. Hopefully he could make that right. Scott needed to like him.

As soon as Stiles left he tried to figure out how to keep them safe. They needed to stick together. He'd read in one of the books in the house that pack was strongest when it was together and omegas were weak. He needed Scott to be in his pack to protect Stiles and himself.

But first he had to send Scott back to the bus. Scott couldn't hurt anyone or Stiles would be hurt. He needed to teach Scott how to control the shift, because Stiles said it was the best thing to do. He hoped Scott would remember something at the bus.

Stiles got home and let out a breath. He sped all the way back home feeling like the person that almost caught them at the bus was still behind him. He closed his bedroom door with a sigh.

Now Scott thought Derek killed the bus driver. Hell, maybe he did. How much did he really know about Derek? Not much. Maybe the amnesia was just some big ploy to get out of custody. But then why would he kiss Stiles? Why would he lie about that? It didn't feel like Derek would do something like that. Stiles still thought it was this beast thing. But if it was that, Stiles needed to explain that to Scott soon. He was keeping him from the worry and stress so he didn't shift before, but now he might not have a choice. Scott would be safer knowing what is after him. But for tonight Scott could go out on a date and enjoy being a teenager. Stiles would stay up and research everything to keep them safe.

Derek's jaw was set as he brushed the glass off his seat to drive his car over to the gas station vacuum cleaner. He almost lost it when the hunter mentioned his family. He didn't feel the love or know them, but that was a low blow. Derek wanted to punch him just on principle, but then he thought of Stiles and what he said about hunters. He had to think about Stiles' lips on his as the man smirked after smashing his window.

He had looked through some more books after Scott had left and found a notebook. It seemed like his sister, the one that came back, wrote it. I was research on hunters. It said something about trying to figure out what hunters started the fire. Derek wondered if the hunters were the ones that had killed his family, or if they had known. If they were the type to bring innocents into it. If they were the type to kill defenseless humans.

Derek put away the vacuum and sped to the hospital. The bus driver might have seen who it was that attacked him. Or at least have more information about what it was, but he just left with more questions.

Like why the bus driver knew his name.

Stiles stared at the picture on his computer screen in shock and fear. The beast was an alpha.

It was Scott's alpha.

Fuck. He had to talk about this with someone. Scott wasn't picking up, probably still on his date. It would be suspicious if Stiles just showed up and dragged him away.

Every time he would blink he'd see those red eyes. Every shadowy corner seemed to reach out with claws. He'd hear a noise outside and feel like it was coming for him. He needed to calm down, he needed to feel safe.

He crept out of the house careful not to wake his sleeping father.

As he was driving it felt like something was chasing after him through the woods beside him. By the time he pulled up in front of the Hale house he could barely breathe. The feeling of someone behind him just kept getting worse. He saw the Camaro with a busted in window and wondered if something happened to Derek. Just as he was opening the Jeep's door Derek came out still dressed despite the late hour even wearing his jacket.

"What? What is is?!"

Stiles got out of the Jeep and ran. He crashed into Derek's chest and tightly grabbed Derek's jacket.

"What is it? Is someone there? Are you hurt?" Derek's arms circled him and crushed him to his chest. Stiles shook his head against his chest and tried not to cry.

This was all so much. Fuck, his best friend was a werewolf now. The person that bit him wants to use him for power and to kill people. There are hunters after him. Scott made first line, but he didn't. Stiles made out with a guy for the first time. He didn't even like guys. Scott could kill Allison on accident. The alpha could show up and kill any of them at any moment.

Stiles could die. Scott could die. Allison could die. Derek could die. His dad could die. Every one he loves cou-

"Hey listen to me, you aren't breathing. You need to breathe. You need to calm down. I don't see anyone. You're safe. Breathe with me."

Stiles listened to Derek's heartbeat and tried to calm his own. "He was- it felt like- like he was there."

"He's not. I promise you he's not. But I am. I am here with you. And I'll protect you."

They stood there holding each other as Stiles slowed his breathing.

"Let's get you inside. It's a cold night."

Stiles smiled up at him. "Derek your house doesn't have heat. It barely has flooring."

Derek smiled. "Look at you, one moment you think you're dying, the next you're ribbing me. You bounce back fast."

"It's a gift. The panic response of a cat in a bathtub, but the elasticity of a rubber ball."

Derek laughed and guided him to the couch once again.

Derek sat down and leaned against the arm rest. He tried to pull Stiles to sit next to him, but he sat with distance between them.

Derek frowned. "Come here."

Stiles scratched the back of his head. "What happened last time, I don't want t-"

"That's okay. We don't have to do any of that now. Or even ever. I just want to touch you."

Stiles' mouth opened.

"Not like that. I just want to hold you. I can sense you are upset. I don't know there's just something that makes me need to make sure you're okay. To have you close."

Stiles nodded. He scooched closer and Derek moved his legs out of the way.

Stiles was hesitant. "Can I- can we, cuddle? I know it sounds stupid, but-"

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?" He tensed for being kicked out.

"Get your ass over here and cuddle me."

Stiles smiled and nestled in between his legs. He rested his head on Derek's shoulder and laid sideways. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles.

"You're good at this." Stiles sunk into the comfort of his warmth.

"What? Cuddling? Did you think I wouldn't be?"

"No. Well, yes. With the grr I wear leather and the general don't touch me attitude, also I thought the muscles wouldn't be the best pillow. But surprisingly, you're great at this."

"You're great at this too. You're warm and smell amazing."

For some reason that made Stiles blush. "Thanks big guy."

"Do you want to talk about it or to think about something else?"

Stiles did want to think about something else, but he had to talk about this. "The beast. It's a werewolf. That can do the full shift, which is very rare. That's the whole reason we don't know who it is. Werewolves that can do the full shift are more powerful, but can lose control and not shift back easier. I think it's an alpha. The alpha i-"

"Alpha?"

Stiles lifted his head up to look at Derek. "Yeah, why?"

"She, my sister, in her notebook wrote something about finding the alpha. It was very vague and I didn't understand until now, but that's what she came her for. To find the alpha. It's what got her killed."

Stiles smelled stressed again. "And now it wants Scott. No matter what he thinks, you didn't bite him. You're a beta, if what I read is right you couldn't have. The alpha did. And now it wants Scott in its pack." Stiles looked worriedly at Derek's eyes for a second, before thinking about Scott's safety instead.

Derek laced their fingers together after Stiles started to chew on his bottom lip in worry. "We'll deal with it. We'll make our own pack." Derek kissed his knuckles.

"Scott thinks you're a murderer. And that you bit him."

Derek smiled. "Something tells me you can be persuasive when you want to be. Besides, his best friend is the most important person in my life, he's got to come around some time."

Stiles squirmed and looked away. "Don't say stuff like that."

Derek smiled. "Why not? Does it make you uncomfortable? It doesn't for me. I know next to nothing, except how you make me feel. I woke up scared in the hospital with nothing but you. I had the memory of you holding me, taking care of me. I don't see any reason in not loving you with everything in me when there is so many things I'm unsure of, because you are definitely not one of those things."

Stiles looked at him with tears in his eyes. "No one except my family and Scott has ever spoken to me like that."

"Like what? Certain?"

"Like they could spend their whole life loving me and it would never be enough. Like I matter to them."

"It wouldn't." There was so much adoration in his eyes Stiles had to close his before a tear slipped out.

"Don't say that." The guilt and disgust at having lied to him tore at his insides.

Derek brushed the tear from his cheek. "Why? I told you I am not afraid."

"Because you don't mean it." Derek went to open his mouth, but Stiles continued, "You don't know enough to mean it. You hardly know anything about me. You don't know what our real relationship is like. You don't even know what you like to eat for breakfast. I'm taking advantage of you and I feel awful for it."

Derek shrugged. "I'm legally taking advantage of you."

Stiles scoffed. "Just because we're both doing it doesn't make it right."

Derek considered that. "That's true. This is what makes it right." Derek kissed him gently and Stiles was weak against it.

Stiles pulled back. "I should go. My dad could wake up."

"Or we could kiss some more and then you could go home."

That was a terrible idea. "That's a wonderful idea. Thank you for sharing. And like I always say sharing is caring. We should all be more caring. The world re-" Derek cut him off with a press of lips.

"Oh I'm sorry were you saying something?"

Stiles gripped his shirt and pulled him upwards toward himself. He kissed him in a way that made Derek feel like his brain melted while running his hands through his hair.

Stiles pulled back and admired the view. Derek's best look was definitely dazed and disheveled. "We'll have to figure out the Scott thing later. And the alpha thing. And the hunter thing, I'm assuming that's who smashed you window? How rude." Stiles kissed him again.

"And probably have to keep my dad out of it at some point."

Derek vigorously nodded. "Oh definitely, but not right now." Derek kissed him again.

Stiles got lost in it and soon enough he had a hand up Derek's shirt. He ran his hand up and down his muscles before remembering to be careful for the slashes. The ones he couldn't find. Had Derek healed? Stiles moved his other hand down from Derek's hair to brush along the back of his neck. Derek brushed his thumb along Stiles' hip right as Stiles felt the claw marks heal under his fingertips.

Derek pulled back and Stiles knew instantly from looking into his wide unsure eyes.

Derek remembered everything.

He pushed Stiles back harshly and stood up. "Wh-what. We're not- no. We're not." He furrowed his eyebrows at Stiles. "You lied."

"Derek please, just let me explain!" Stiles scrambled to get up and in the motion his shirt moved to show a mark. A mark Derek had left.

Derek's eyes went wide. "I- I kissed you." Flashes of a convincing woman and feelings of uncertainty but gratitude filled him.

Stiles was hurt by his tone. "Please, sound more horrified if you could."

"You need to leave."

Stiles took a step to get closer, but Derek took one back. He could tell he wasn't going to leave without a reason.

"Stiles this isn't some childish game. You tricked me, you lied."

Stiles looked down. "I know and I'm so fucking sorry for that, but I had to. I had to protect my dad. Then I had to make sure you protected Scott, but then I let it go too far. I'm sorry."

This was all wrong. Stiles wasn't the one who did something wrong. Derek was. "You need to leave and I don't ever want to see you again, unless it has to do with Scott." Derek set a look of certainty and anger he didn't feel into his eyes.

Stiles shook his head and reached for his hand. "I can fix this. Scott needs you, I need y-"

Derek couldn't hold back. "You need to leave! You needed to never come here. You needed to have never met me."

"You're not the bad guy here Derek."

Derek needed to push him away to keep him safe. Because if he was with Derek he would get hurt. Everyone Derek cares about gets hurt. "You're right. You are. You're the pathetic little bastard that tricked me into caring about you because it's the only way anyone ever would. I take back what I said, I take it all back. You aren't a good son. You got your father in trouble because you can't keep your nosey ass out of things too big for you. You are the one that got Scott bit. You took him out to those woods. If the alpha kills him, it'll be on your hands."

Derek was grateful he could hold out until he heard the Jeep rattle away before emptying his stomach outside. There had been screaming and tears, but mostly it was the choking sent of Stiles' hurt that Derek would remember. But after he slammed the Jeep door, gone was everything except the emptiness. He just felt hollow and disgusted at himself. Right before he hurled he thought about how now he was just like her.

Stiles drove home through tears. He was just coming up the stairs as his dad came out of his room.

Shit. Now he had to deal with this.

"What are you doing? I put out a curfew, damn it Stiles! Where were you?"

Stiles thought fast and hoped it was too dark and late for his dad to notice his puffy eyes. "Scott had his first date with Allison. He didn't want to wait to tell me tomorrow."

His dad's face softened. "Kid, one of these days you'll be the death of me. Did it go well?"

"Yeah, they're thinkin a spring wedding and six kids will be enough."

"He's that gone on her?" His dad chuckled.

"Worse." Stiles noticed his father's uniform. "Wait, why are you dressed?"

His dad opened his mouth, but Stiles cut him off. "You know I'll just find out."

His father sighed. "The bus driver. He's dead."

"Someone got into the hospital?"

"No. He succumbed to his wounds."

Stiles nodded. "So you have to go in."

His father kissed his forehead on the way out. "Sleep well kid."

He heard his father's patrol car leave and he waited a few moments before rushing to Scott's.

---

They never talked about Derek losing his memory. Derek went back to his asshole self and Stiles tried not to be hurt by it. All the while Derek felt guilty for being like Kate and Stiles was hurt from Derek's harsh words that he tried to remember weren't true. But for some god damn reason they never stopped trusting each other. He helped him with the bullet without talking about it. He held him up in the pool. Derek protected him from Issac. They even helped each other when they figured out it was his uncle, and that it was the reason he had tried to take Derek's memory. So Peter wouldn't have to kill his nephew. Derek was there for the nogitsune. Stiles saved him from Mexico. There were so many things they made it through together, and yet they could never get over it.

Sometimes he would look at Derek and feel like they were just a moment away from taking about it, but then it would pass and they would forget all over again.

Almost like amnesia.

A.N. So thanks for reading!!! It means a lot and I appreciate it. I don't know if I'm too happy with the end right now, but it is completed. I might do a part two idk yet. Have a great day/night!!!

Carter😊

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years ago

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Halloween Coutdown - Burn

Summary: Hilda’s classmates are beginning to pick up on her witchcraft. She doesn’t care, but the librarian doesn’t like people talking about her apprentice behind her back. Family Fights Halloween themed ficlet

Notes: 4 days until Halloween!! This chapter takes place in the 5 month skip in Family Fights. If you haven’t read the fic and want to, the link is here. If you don’t feel like it, you just need to know that the librarian is training Hilda to be a witch.

(I dedicate this chapter to the awesome @mr-hyde-and-mr-seek, who unknowingly helped me pick the theme for ths fic and who just gives my writing and me more support than I could possibly hope for. Everyday is halloween when I’m with you, fren <3)

Read it on ao3

Spooky song rec: Burn The Witch by Queens of the Stone Age

It had been years since Maven had set foot on Trolberg’s Elementary School. Before her sister had complained about it and asked her to stop doing it, she’d often pick Myra up when her classes were over. The last time she’d been there, it had probably been to walk her home.

Her own memories of the place felt more like a haze. She did remember that she’d attended that school, and that she’d had few friends and so spent her recesses in the library, and she even had some weirdly specific recollections of sneaking out of physical education to write stories in a secluded corner of the dressing room. She wasn’t there for her sister, though, much less for the pleasure of remembering her childhood years. That day, she was there to pick her apprentice up.

Leaning against the grids that surrounded the school, the librarian watched a group of children walk by her, complaining about how unfair it was that they would have classes on Halloween, and she thought about how much easier this was for people for whom All Souls Night was just another holiday. Being a witch, she had much more ease sensing the things that lurked in the shadows at that time of the year, and they were more likely to target her as well. That was exactly the reason why she’d asked Hilda to allow her to accompany her home that day, even though it wouldn’t really be Halloween until midnight.

She was probably exaggerating on her worry, but a young witch with too much power and not enough control over it was the perfect target for all the dark creatures that arose when the veil got thinner. When she’d talked about this to her, Hilda had promised not to leave her house alone on Halloween, especially since there would be no fun in trick or treating alone, anyway. She did, however, reveal that she walked to her house alone after school, and Maven was not completely at ease with that.

When she asked Hilda if she’d allow her to pick her up at school, the girl hadn’t looked like she’d wanted to comply, though she tried to hide it. Even when she accepted, she didn’t act very happy about the prospect. Maven didn’t think it was anything she’d done that had upset Hilda, since they had been talking normally just seconds before, which left her to wonder about Hilda’s behaviour.

Walking side by side with her two closest friends, Maven noticed Hilda leaving her school’s main building when she waved enthusiastically at her, now acting as happy as ever, if a little nervous. After they said their goodbyes, the trio parted ways. The girl returned inside the school, the boy left for the school’s auditorium, and Hilda ran her way.

“Hey, Mave!” She greeted joyfully. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Hilda began walking, taking the lead since she knew the way to her house way better than Maven did. “What about you? Have you done anything interesting today?”

“If by interesting you mean magical, then no, That will only begin tomorrow.”

At the mention of magic, Hilda glanced around, which made Maven lift her eyebrows. She’d never seen Hilda being skittish before, and she didn’t even think the girl had it in her to be.

“Are you sure everything is fine, Hildie? You seem a little bit… off.”

“Me? Oh no, I’m fine!” She assured, clearly lying. Knowing she’d been caught, Hilda was about to come up with an excuse when they heard a gasp. They still hadn’t left the school’s block, and on the other side of the grids there was a playground for the children. Inside it, a boy was pointing at her.

“I knew it! I knew you were a witch! You’re with the witch librarian!”

Hilda sighed wearily, and Maven crossed her arms. Her apprentice had told her about the boy, and how his misadventures with the Great Raven had led him to believe she was a witch, a belief that had only gotten stronger when he heard her chanting a small good luck charm before an exam.

“Trevor.” Hilda groaned. “Can you please just leave me-”

“Little child, you shouldn’t go around saying things like that!” Maven whispered with fake alarm in her voice. Hilda’s face was confused as her mentor kneeled down to the ground to get on the boy’s level. She looked around, as if making sure no one could hear her, and after noticing this Trevor got closer, curious at the prospect of a secret.

“It is dangerous to speak the way you do. Especially at this time of the year! Do you know which day tomorrow is? The real witches might hear you.”

Apprehensively, he took a step back. “T- the real witches?”

“Oh, yes.” Maven widened her eyes, trying to give herself the appearance of a madwoman. “Has nobody ever told you? No, I suppose they wouldn’t tell this to a child. Trolberg was built upon the grounds in which witches were burnt in ancient times. And every year in All Souls’ Night, they come out for anyone who even vaguely reminds them of their persecutors!”

It was clear that Maven had scared the boy. He was fidgeting nervously and stuttered when he spoke. Her apprentice, on the other hand, was watching her with curious eyes.

“They come… come out? To do what?”

Abruptly, Maven grasped the grids and and pulled her body forward, her face only inches from him.

“TO BURN THEM!”

Trevor began screaming and ran away with fright. Barely containing her laughter, the librarian stood up again and took Hilda’s hand.

“Let’s get out of here before he comes back with an adult and I get sued.”

They ran away to the next block playfully, Hilda’s giggles stopping Maven from regretting wasting her time on some ignorant kid. When they had left the school behind, they returned to their normal pace.

“Is that why you were worried?” The librarian asked, noticing Hilda looked much lighter now. Rubbing her neck, Hilda nodded.

“Yeah. I don’t really mind him calling me a witch. He’s a nasty person, really. I just didn’t want him to give you a hard time. I heard him calling you a witch too one day, you know, and his mother will believe anything he says. I was afraid he’d try and cause you some trouble, is all.”

Touched by Hilda’s worry for her, Maven put a hand on her shoulder affectionately.

“Don’t worry, Hildie, I don’t think there’s anything he can do against me. This sort of person already doesn’t go to the library, anyway.”

Hilda chuckled and smiled up at her.

“Yeah, they probably don’t. Was any of what you said true, by the way? About the witches?”

This time it was Maven who chuckled, thinking about the bunch of nonsense she’d come up with.

“No, I was just trying to scare the boy into being a little less unbearable. The city doesn’t really like us, but there were never witch burnings in this area. Plus, we are the real witches.”

Both relieved to know the city hadn’t, in fact, been built upon witch hunt grounds, and emboldened by Maven’s statement, the girl stood up straighter as she walked. They began trading stories about their days, the librarian listening eagerly as her apprentice told her about her classes and her friends. Eventually, though, when they were close to arriving in Hilda’s home, she restarted on their previous topic.

“I’m glad you came with me.” She said. “I’m not too worried about these creatures you mentioned, but… I did always find humans scarier.”

Looking up at her mentor, Hilda was somewhat surprised to find the utter empathy on her face.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Hilda nodded.

“I do too. Unfortunately I came to find there are humans much scarier than any monster that I have seen. There are monsters who resent witches, of course, since technically we’re humans. But to some humans, we fall in the same category as said monsters. At least magical creatures aren’t too selfishly scared of us to try and see past their prejudices.”

“That’s exactly it!” Hilda exclaimed. When she came to think of it, that was the first time in her life someone seemed to understand that part of her. “There are great humans, obviously. It’s just kind of scary to try to find out which type of human each one is.”

“And yet we keep on trying. That’s how brave we are.”

“Yeah!” As she raised her hand to high five Maven, she noticed that she didn’t seem too used to the gesture. Hilda hadn’t been either, since she grew up in the wilderness and learned about it with David and Frida, but it struck her as odd since the librarian had grown up in the city.

Soon they arrived at the building in which Hilda lived, and she opened the door.

“Do you want to come inside? Mum is home, we could have some tea.”

“Not today, but thank you.” She nodded discreetly, a small gesture that showed that she was indeed grateful for the invitation. When Hilda was stepping into the building, she spoke again.

“If anyone else gives you a hard time… please tell me about it. I don’t want you to suffer because of who you are.” Maven didn’t know what she’d do in case Hilda did tell her in the future about another mean kid. Past experience showed that she wasn’t apt to handle bullying of any sort, heaven knew. But the thought of Hilda being picked on, especially because of something that was in a way Maven’s fault, didn’t sit well with her.

“Don’t worry, Maven.” Bringing her hand to her forehead, Hilda made a signal which Maven thought was probably the Sparrow Scouts salutation. Never having been part of the group, she didn’t know for sure. “This witch won’t burn!”

They smiled one last time at each other and said their goodbyes. The girl closed the door behind her, but Maven spent a few seconds staring at the wood. Now that she was alone, she got an uncomfortable, sick feeling on her belly. It seemed that the encounter with the boy had affected her more than she had thought, and much more than it should have.

“No.” She whispered, even though there was no one around to hear her. “I will make sure you won’t.”

#wow I really went and said: im gonna make the librarian as feral as i possibly can #and i did it #you go you chaotic mess of a witch #wife's halloween countdown #fic: family fights #my fic #hilda librarian fanfic #hilda fanfic #hilda (hilda) fanfic

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jump-off-a-clifford-universe · 5 years ago

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Your Song || Part 1

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Summary: Geralt x Jaskier where basically Jaskier is a merman who met Geralt while Geralt was training to be a witcher. Both of them were young, Jaskier was curious, Geralt wasn’t as broody, and they fell in love with each other. But after Geralt completed his trainings, something happened and they parted ways. Years later, perhaps destiny does have a way of bringing lovers back together, they met again. But this time, things are different.

Warning: none

Word Count: 1,485

A/N: eeeeeeek my first geraskier fic!! please tell me what you think about it!

Geralt rubs his temples lightly. Pretending to listen to those prideful lords boast about their achievements and wealth is harder than Geralt thought, and it is giving him a headache. If it wasn’t because of Mousesack’s invitation, he would not be here at all. Slowly, he moves to a quiet corner of the room, wanting to spend the rest of the evening alone with his cup of ale more than anything. He is glad that the lords have now taken an interest in arguing with each other about their encounter with “a rare subspecies of manticore” instead of asking him to share his stories.

He leaned on a pillar and looked around the room, completely unamused. The music, the talking and all the sounds in the room start to blend into the background. That is, until he caught a pair of striking blue eyes from across the room, which belongs to a well-dressed bard who is strumming a lute and completely immersed in his own singing.

Geralt’s mind spins, suddenly filled with memories.

The night feels heavy as Geralt treads carefully through the woods. He clutches his sword tightly, his hands trembling slightly, as he kept his breaths shallow and his steps light. It was his first monster hunt as a witcher-in-training, and for a 10-year-old, this is the most important night of his life. He silently thanked the gods for the weather. At least it is spring where the air is warm and the wind isn’t harsh. Although he has never shown, Geralt hated the cold. He hated how the snow absorbs all the sound, and it feels like he is alone in this world; He hated how unforgiving the winter wind is, how it slices through the air; He hated how frozen his fingers always get and he can never them warm.

Geralt was instructed to find this hideous aquatic creature who only appears in the night. He was told that his monster has pointed ears, wicked eyes that seem to burn into your soul, and deformed fins that pokes out of its skin in odd places. From what Geralt has heard, this creature steals from villages - accessories, musical instruments, … other than food, this monster has stolen almost everything. Surely it is not the worst crime, but enough to make the young witcher thinks that he is doing some good by those helping helpless villagers get rid of this nuisance.

As Geralt nears the river, he felt his palms grow clammy. Adrenaline courses through his veins, heightening his senses. Geralt scans his surroundings - nothing suspicious. Geralt reaches the edge of the river and stands there for a moment, his muscles as tense as they can be, but nothing happened. Geralt is starting to think he went the wrong direction, or maybe that aquatic thief has gone to another village, or -

The water ripples and Geralt snaps back from his thoughts. He tries his best to slow his heartbeat. His breaths quickening. He readjusted his stance as he stared intently at the water. Something emerged abruptly and caught Geralt off-guard. He dropped his sword in the water, and he felt his heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach. This is it, he thought, this is how I die. Before even becoming a witcher, before I do anything remarkable in my life. He closes his eyes and holds his breaths, bracing for whatever that is coming.

A few seconds, or minutes - hell, it felt like decades passed before Geralt realises nothing is happening. There is no sound, no commotion, and he isn’t hurt. Geralt slowly opens his eyes, just enough to catch a peek. To his surprise, there is no kraken, or hydra, or whatever scary monster in front of him. There was a boy, around his age, holding Geralt sword in the water, studying as Geralt.

Geralt takes a deep breath and is just about to say something before the boy in the water cuts him off. “What are you doing here late at night?” asked the boy,

“I- I am a witcher,” said Geralt, in fake confidence, “and I want my sword back. I am on a quest to hunt down a horrific monster who lives in the water and steals fr-” Geralt suddenly stops mid-sentence as the realisation hits him. He is standing face to face with the water monster, who is not hideous or deformed, or anything close to what people described him to be. Sure, the boy has blue fins growing out from behind his ears and scales on his torso, but he looks nothing like what Geralt has imagined. One thing that is true, though, is that the boy has wickedly blue eyes that seem to look into Geralt’s soul, which Geralt still has not decide if it is a good or a bad feeling.

“A monster? Weird, I haven’t seen one nearby, and I’ve been here all day. Are you sure you’re in the right place?” asks the boy.

“I, uh, I am sure. I don’t make mistakes,” replies Geralt. “I want my sword back. For my quest. To kill monsters.” Geralt feels like he has forgotten how to speak for a moment. He is afraid, but also excited, and confused, and curious.

“Sure, witcher, but at least tell me your name. My name is Jaskier and I am a merman.” says the boy with a singsong voice, followed by an elaborate flip that shows off his iridescent tail.

Geralt debated with himself. He knew he wasn’t supposed to give away his name to a stranger, let alone an aquatic monster, but harm will this boy do? He is much lankier than Geralt, and he doesn’t sound threatening or menacing at all.

“My name is Geralt.” “Nice to meet you, Geralt,” said Jaskier, extending his hand for a handshake. Geralt gingerly shakes his hand. Jaskier’s hand feels slippery and cold but surprisingly soft. Both of them hold each other’s hands for a while, silence hanging between them.

“My sword. I want it back.” Geralt says bluntly, breaking the awkward silence. Geralt did not mean to be rude or that forward, but he didn’t know what to say. He doesn’t like how he has wasted so much time talking to Jaskier, but more than that, he hates how he doesn’t hate this young merman, and how much he wants to continue this conversation.

Jaskier tossed Geralt his sword back. “Here you go, witcher.” The corner of Jaskier lips curled up into a small smile, his voice playful.

Geralt catches his sword and uttered a quiet ‘thanks’ before he turned away, marching away from the river. “Will I see you again?” shouted Jaskier. Geralt turned back and takes one last look at Jaskier. He knows he isn’t supposed to be friends with a merman who steals, not only because it goes against the rules, but also because he should have had killed Jaskier like he was instructed to. He can’t let anyone know he hesitated and made friends with the target of his mission. Everyone will think he is weak and he will never get to be a real witcher. He cannot let anyone else see Jaskier, because they would kill Jaskier without a second thought. The gears turned in Geralt’s head - there has to be a way out of this mess he got himself into. “If only you promise me you will stop stealing and you hide from the villagers and other witchers. If you can do that I will find a way to see you again.”

“Deal.”

Geralt felt an unexpected warmth rising up his chest. As the merman said ‘deal’, Geralt realises how much he is looking forward to their next encounter, whenever and wherever it might be. For once, Geralt loosened up a little bit and let himself smile.

“Deal.” replied Geralt, this time surely and truly confidently.

Geralt snaps back to reality as people around him applauded. The bard had just finished singing a song about some fishmonger’s daughter which Geralt did not pay attention to at all. Surely he cannot be mistaken, Geralt thought, who else could sing a whole song about a fishmonger’s daughter? It has to be Jaskier.

The bard smiles and waves goodbye to the crowd. Geralt did not realise he was staring before the bard caught his stare. Immediately, Geralt’s heart jumped to his throat. But the bard looks away from Geralt as if they had never seen each other at all. Geralt hasn’t seen Jaskier for years - he doesn’t know if Jaskier is mad or sad at him for what happened, and he doesn’t know what Jaskier is like now. There Jaskier was, standing right in front of Geralt, with his beautiful blue eyes and soft brown hair which Geralt has run his fingers through so many times, yet Geralt never felt further away from him.

A familiar stranger. An estranged lover.

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chasingmyfreedom · 4 years ago

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Dear Diary,

(CW for Death musing, suicide ideation/mentions, gorey descriptions)

I need to get this off my chest before it eats me alive. Normally, I’d summarize the day before I reopened my wounds, but there was nothing really of note that happened. It was an average day. One of the more scheduled times I meet with John to spar. In fact, that’s what brought the issue to my attention. Well, the Peters girls were first, but twice is coincidence, thrice is a trend.

The Crowd is planning something They’re calling “Sundown,” and have been for a while. We don’t really know what it is, even Their own don’t, but Watchers were warning Their loyal that if they were even seen with a member of the club, they would receive no mercy from their God. We have theories, strong ones, about what this event is, but nothing set in stone. Perhaps that’s why it scares me so much.

The Flame’s theory is that this is a mass conversion. The Crowd plans to use the Old Tongue against us to reprogram our minds and bring us all under Their reign in time for Their new Voice. It would explain why They’re supposedly bringing in everyone They can; you need numbers to perform a mass ceremony as far as I’m aware. I’ll admit, I’m a bit... behind on the Old Tongue, so I know more of how it works than the language itself. I’ve noticed a few more cars on the street and a few more unfamiliar faces around town recently, so the influx of people seems confirmed. The use of Old Tongue is more in the realm of hypothesis and comes from the Grandmother, if I remember correctly. Though, I suppose it doesn’t matter much what came from who at this point. Moves are clearly being made, so something is certainly happening. The instatement of a new Voice. A shifting of power. They want to scare us into submission. To prove that They have power over the town still, despite the other Voices that arrived here.

To be honest? That... terrifies me. I spent twelve years being forced to do what my family wanted. Two or three of those was spent hiding my interests, exploring “useless” things while no one was looking. I’ve spent the last four years trying to undo that damage and actually investigate the world and myself. It took four years to prove to myself that I don’t have to be them, that I can do whatever I want, no matter how useless people may think it is, but that can all be taken away in a moment. The little progress I’ve made, all gone, drowned beneath discordant harmonies.

That scares me. It scares me worse than death. Death isn’t scary. There’s always someone who will remember you, and as long as they do, you’re not truly dead. As long as you leave some sort of legacy, even a small one, you’ll never be truly forgotten. But this? This could end everything. We’d become... puppets, at best; blissfully unaware of what was happening around us and unable to fight back. We’d become what They want us to be: perfect little obedient husks, only there to be the flesh They claim as Their own.

I’m through being what others want me to be. The only thing that matters is my satisfaction. But They’re going to take that choice away and give us a different one:

Join Them or kill yourself.

Those are the options really. Either you come to terms with the fact you may never wake up again and know only Their fake, plastic bliss, or you take your own life so They can’t have the satisfaction or utility.

I don’t know how I feel about that. I feel... conflicted. Afraid. Angry. Determined. Tired. Trapped. Panicked. I can feel it in my body. Just thinking about it I can barely write. I thought I was finally free. But I’m not. I’m still just as trapped as I was before this one just wears a different mask but the blood’s all the same. I’m afraid to lose myself. I’m angry that They dare try. I’m determined to stop them, but I’m so tired of having to fight for every little thing I should just be entitled to! I shouldn’t have to fight for the right to live-! No one should-! I shouldn’t have to scour censored pages for any scrap of information! I shouldn’t have to be afraid I’ll lose the few things I brought with me! I shouldn’t have to fight for my life every day! It’s exhausting.

I’ve tasted Their Song. It’s bitter. Enticing in the same way as poisonous creatures are. To lose all sense of who you are... It’s awful. You’re nothing more than a writhing bag of blood and bones desperately trying to keep itself alive long enough to make more. I don’t want to be reduced to that. I refuse to be reduced to that. If that means that, in my final moments of clarity, I have to be the one to pierce my own heart and paint Their town red, so be it. I don’t want to die. There’s too many things I haven’t seen. But between The Song and Death, I’ll take my chances on an afterlife.

But what’s more exhausting is that They might fail. If Their sequence is wrong or They let one wrong person in, there could be worse damage done. I’d like to be optimistic and say that this Pact has enough information to stop Them, but it’s obvious they don’t. One of them crawled back into the womb in fear, but I can see His reasoning. One of them has gone completely silent, engaged in a silent war of His own. One is in pieces and barely playing paperboy. And the last will have the Grandmother to distract Her soon if we’re not careful. How could any of them get anything done? Did they expect to be productive?

Before I got here, they decided on the Hunter as their target. I’m afraid they’ve forgotten the other half of the war. They won’t be able to stop Sundown. They won’t be able to stop the Hunter. It’s only a matter of time who gets to us first. After all, He’s still working in the background. He’s still taking me Gods know where and dropping me deeper in the woods every time. If He’s smart, He’ll strike at Sundown. The Pact will be in disarray, The Crowd will be distracted, it’s the perfect opportunity to strike. I don’t think The Crowd can defeat him. His concept is too universal. Too difficult to kill. There’s too many horrible people in the world. There’s too many horrible people in Their Song. They can’t kill Him.

If He strikes, then we’re equally dead. There’s maybe a handful of people in this entire town who know how to fend for themselves. An even smaller handful that would survive. With my newfound weaknesses, I’m not sure I can count myself amongst them.

Somehow though, He’s more merciful than They are. The Crowd gives you no choice; the Hunter allows you to flee because it will make the Hunt more interesting. A Hunt... that’s what this will be. I suppose I am old enough now, aren’t I? A year older than Michael. I never thought I’d outlive him.

I’m... confused. Why do I suddenly want Him to win? It... burns. I can feel it. Shame, disgust... anticipation. My chest hurts. It feels like it's trying to burst out from itself. I can feel the acid in my throat.

I want Him to win because I would have a chance. If I could escape, I could try again. I don’t want to escape alone. I’d probably have to, one way or another.

This feeling is ugly. Painful. I don’t like it. I don’t like being powerless. I don’t like my choices being taken away. I don’t like having to abandon someone. I don’t want to leave my brother here. I don’t want to leave Maddie here. I don’t want to leave Alex here. I don’t want to leave John here. I don’t want to leave Uni here. She’d never make it through a Hunt. I don’t know if any of them could. I don’t know how they did it. Maybe I should have listened to Michael and Gabriel more.

It is the end of the fucking world, isn’t it?

I’m being... dramatic. It’s not the whole world, it’s just the end of mine. I don’t know what I want to do about it. I wish I knew how it was ending. That would make preparing easier.

If I knew the Crowd would win, I would just enjoy myself. Maybe be reckless. I should try it once, even though it’s stupid. It would take the risk out of everything. I don’t want Them to have me anyway. Maybe I could say something. Or find my brother. Tie up loose ends.

If I knew the Hunter would win, I’d make sure I trained the whole time. Remind myself how to hunt. Read a few more local flora books to find out what’s poisonous. See if I can figure out how to farm. If I could survive long enough, I could get out. Page would have my head, but it’s the price to pay for a continuing story, right? But I wouldn’t let Him have me either. I hope He has fun taking skill from my cold, dead body.

... Fuck. I only meant to pick a scab, not gut myself all over the page. But I have to feel it, right? If I suppress it again, it’ll come out when I don’t want it to. I’m allowed to feel things. That’s what Dr. Garrison said. I can’t let this come out while I’m teaching. I can’t let this lash out at people. I can’t knock out my students. I can’t overly harm my sparring partner. We need as many people as we can get to have any chance at all. They can’t learn if they’re unconscious. They can’t fight if they’re too wounded. I can’t fight if I let this control me.

I have to pretend I have some hope. I have to look for the names. I have to help the Grandmother. I have to find a way to re-write the Song. I have to fight.

... But today, I’m allowed to cry about this. I’m allowed one day. That’s what Dr. Garrison said. I can cry today. I don’t want to, but I already am, so I might as well make a day of it-! I’ll take the day off from school. I’ll tell Yvonne the nightmares were too bad. I can’t do this.

I can’t do this today. I’ll be back tomorrow.

#tw death #tw suicide ideation #tw gore #drabble

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the-trashy-phoenix · 4 years ago

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Supernatural season 3 review (part 1)

Link to part 2:

Having also finished the third season, I have to admit each one until now is better than the one before. Of course that’s because you grow fond of the characters, but I honestly think it gets more and more original and involving going on. Starting with the tight link with the previous season, which in this case is Sam’s death. If you’ve never watched Supernatural, don’t worry, these guys die and come back to life on average once a season; if you’re a Supernatural fan, well, you surely know it better than me.

Resuming quickly, in the last episodes of the second season Sam dies killed by one of those guys who, just like him, have some sort of psychic abilities and are supposed to take part to the upcoming war fighting in the Yellow-eyed demon’s (whose name is Azazel, as I learnt reading Carly’s review) army. Dean is of course devastated and can’t just leave Sam dead, so he manages to make a deal (rings a bell?) with the Crossroad demon, who had appeared at some point in the second season: Sam can be brought back but the price for Dean is extremely high, because the demon would make him live for just one more year, after which he will go directly to hell. It’s understandable that he does it because he can’t live without his brother and it’s been his duty to protect and save him since when they were children, but it’s also undeniable that it’s kind of Dean’s way to get partly rid of that sense of guilt he constantly feels because of John’s sacrifice. It reminded me of Greek tragedy, because some plays have a usual pattern, whose main feature is that parents’ faults fall onto their children in an endless chain of guilt and grief from which it is impossible to escape. Dean feels like his life isn’t worth living anymore and it seems more than right to him to give it to his beloved brother, that’s why when Sam wakes up he doesn’t seem to worry about his end, at least at the very beginning. On the other hand Sam now experiences Dean’s same sense of guilt and is mad at him for imposing it to him, even if deep inside he knows he would have done the same thing, but he also can’t understand how his brother could and can accept so easily the idea of dying. In fact he can’t, he’s just pretending once again to protect Sam, who tries to save him, just like he himself did, in every possible way. At a certain point this pretending is revealed and underlines powerfully the lack of communication between the two, just like what happened after John died, when Dean kept hiding his grief because he’s supposed to be the strongest, as a big brother. I do comprehend they lie to one another for the best, but it always turns out to be a really bad choice.

Before proceeding with the episodes and the single characters, I’d like to point out one thing I feel like I delayed too much. I’m talking out about Dean’s obsession for girls (or hot chicks, if you prefer). I know it’s a part of his characterization as the prototype of the heterosexual strong man, but still I think it’s a bit exaggerated at some point, giving the impression he objectifies women. By the way let’s also consider that ten or fifteen years ago maybe there wasn’t exactly the same sensibility we now have.

This time I’ll be more schematic in commenting the episodes, because I think I’ve something to say for nearly each one of them, as they are full of events and of some new interesting characters.

In the second episode we meet Lisa, a sweetheart of Dean’s from when he was younger: he wants to meet her again, but he soon finds out she has a son, who he suspects being his. For how we know Dean we would swear he’ll be terrified by the idea of having a son, but at the end he’s unexpectedly disappointed that child is not his. This is just apparently weird, for we can explain it well considering Dean’s recurrent desire and thought of having a “normal” life and a family of his own, and maybe also all that looking for the hottest girls is nothing but a means of hiding his strong will for a stable life and partner. I have to say this episode is also really scary and disquieting because of the demonic children.

The third episode welcomes a more permanent character, Bela Talbot, a cunning thief who keeps bothering Sam and Dean during their hunts. She’s the typical bad-but-fascinating kind of character: she’s so smart you’re naturally driven to sympathize with her. The boys have a strange relationship with her, as further on, in episode 6, they’re forced to cooperate with her to solve a case and they even succeed in saving her life even if she didn’t really prove to deserve it. It sometimes seems like her mean attitude takes over her just because it’s her nature; so, even though, as I said, the brothers saved her, she steals the Colt, putting them in serious difficulty. No surprise the boys quit relying on her and refuse to save her again in the last episodes: we learn she wanted the Colt for herself because she is soon dying due to a deal she had made years before with a demon that killed her parents. Her story is quite sad, but of course she could have saved herself giving up her dark side and trusting Sam and Dean.

I really enjoyed the fifth episode, in which the fairy tales of the brothers Grimm come tragically true from a girl’s fantasy. It’s funny how supernatural events grow stranger as the episodes go on, and how sometimes the protagonists can’t believe some things actually exist even if they’re used to that. This episode is also a turning point in the general plot because Sam, desperate for saving Dean, kills the Crossroad demon with the Colt (before Bela steals it) hoping to free his brother from his deal, but the creature unexpectedly tells him that another mysterious and very powerful demon holds the contract. Sam is puzzled and he and Dean will dedicate the rest of the season to hunting that one.

I’ll mention episode 7 because we meet again an old friend, Gordon, one of the main villains of the second season who comes back to have revenge, but, as I anticipated in the previous review, he’s finally defeated in the most ironic way. In a sort of ring composition, the episode is about vampires, the same creatures Sam and Dean are hunting when they meet Gordon for the first time, and the hunter gets bit by one of them and he becomes the monster he hated the most. I don’t wanna sound mean, but he actually deserved that.

I liked the episode set at Christmas, first of all because it’s truly the best time of the year (at least for me), secondly because I think it fits perfectly Dean’s situation, being a joyful period, but also full of sadness and melancholy for another year is passing by. Of course Dean can’t but feel it strongly and I think that’s why he gets so emotional, wanting to celebrate as a proper family. We also feel so sorry for the brothers as we see flashbacks from their childhood representing their memories of their sad time on their own following their dad in his continuous hunting.

I can’t but give a special mention to episode 11, which Carly expected, and made me expect, impatiently. It’s just so funny and frustrating at same time, with the same day repeating all over again without Sam being able to stop the loop, and leading him to lose his brother for six long months (kind of a preview of what will happen when Dean will be “permanently” dead) and at the end to bring him back making the trickster (the same one we met in the first season) stop creating alternative realities.

We also see again some other recurrent characters: Bobby, who I analysed in the previous review, in episode 10 in particular, because the boys are called to save him from his own dreams, and to do so they have to enter them (in this way we and the brothers have the chance to know more about him and his past); the so-called “Ghostfacers”, a group of clumsy fake hunters Sam and Dean had met in the first season (and meet again now in episode 12) and have constantly to save from themselves and the hunts they put themselves into; the FBI agent Henricksen, who is “hunting” the brothers as he thinks they’re dangerous criminals. Nevertheless, in episode 12, he has to change his mind and reconsider his opinions about them for the police station where Sam and Dean are kept is attacked by a demonic army and Henricksen himself gets possessed. While deciding how to fight them, they are helped by Ruby, a demon who seems to be different from the others: at first she seems willing to help Sam saving Dean, and help the boys in general (as in episode 12 against the army), but at the end her purpose comes out. But let’s go a little bit back to Henricksen and the police station: they manage to defeat all those demons really smartly (they read out the exorcism formula though speakers which spread the sound all over the place), but when everything seems to be going well, Sam and Dean learn from the news that another demon came at the police station after they left and killed everyone. It is called Lilith, and she’s the real villain of the season, mainly because it’s her who holds Dean’s contract. So of course the final fight is to defeat Lilith, but also to save Dean’s life. That’s when Ruby intervenes again to suggest Sam could use his psychic abilities to defeat her. He’s tempted by Ruby’s ideas because, even if he doesn’t know how to manage his powers, he’s so focused on saving his brother’s life he could be a bit naïve trusting Ruby without really knowing what’s her real purpose, even though she seems to be the only good demon living. On the contrary Dean doesn’t believe her at all. We can’t know how the things would have ended up if they listened to Ruby’s advice, but they don’t and they can’t kill Lilith, so Dean is chewed up by the hellhounds and goes directly to hell. This scene is so heartbreaking because Sam’s pain is nearly unbearable and you find yourself having hoped, or having been sure, Dean would survive in some ways. That’s how the third season ends, with Sam broken into tears, Lilith still strong and free, Dean covered in blood deep down in hell. Hope seems far away. Or maybe we just have to wait for the next season.

- Irene 💕

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kaz3313 · 5 years ago

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Crowley is a totally very bad demon who does very demonish things. Like take care of a bunch of orphans

Inspired by one of @rainydaydecaf s text post! I wrote this in a day

Also thank you @thetimtimjr for tagging me in the post that inspired this!

( I have only seen to episode 3 so no spoilers in the tags or replies please! Thank you)

Tw: though this is mostly fluffy comedy stuff there is a sucide attempt (unsuccessfully). Also if anyone needs this tagged as anything feel free to ask as always!

(Please reblog and hope you enjoy 😊)

"Misstah Crowley are we there yet?" One of the children tugs at the demons clothes.

"I already told you; were not going anywhere. Were waiting for the storm to pass," he gently pushes the child away but he comes back to his side.

"When is the storm gonna pass then? Can it be now?"

"I don't know kid, now butt off before you're tossed into the sea," Crowley growls. At first a face of horror passes over the kid but it quickly leaves as another child pipes up.

"He won't throw you overboard, Asher, nothing to worry about," She's older than the other but no more than 14.

"I can-" Crowley begins but stops hearing one of the many infants start crying.It took him two hours to rock them all to sleep. "Oh look what you did. Now they all will wake up,". He is right as babies wake up one after another crying in confusion or empathy, as it is rather hard to tell which is which at such a young age, and Crowley desperately tries to calm down each while simultaneously answering the older children's questions.

"So whose ship is this?" A girl in rags asks, he'll have to have Aziraphale miracle her some better clothes later.

"Noah's Arch," he whispers rocking two wailing infants, twins actually.

"Is he a friend of yours?" A boy who looks as well off as she did pipes up.

"Ehhh, I met him once or twice," the meetings Crowley is referring too is when he passed the man by while tempting other people to acts of evil in his town.

"Is they're another arch?" The girl asks. A group of children has formed around some of them helping with the babies or toddlers but others just to listen to what he has to say. Odd to say the least; Crowly has definitely spoke to groups of people at a time, and many listened with such interest, but not often answer earnest questions. Much less earnest questions he's answering truthfully.

"No, no other arch," the one twin started fussing again. "Shut up," he says to the baby but instead of a harsh tone his voice is sing songish.

"Then where are all the parents at?"

"Alright enough questions, I didn't bring you on here to annoy me," Crowley hisses and more of the little ones wake up crying. Great, more to deal with.

"I'm bored,"

"I'm hungry,"

"Alright! Alright! Go-" He looks around. He could always have them mess with the animals but they could get eaten by a lion as well as get caught by Noah. No, keeping them down here is a necessity but he couldn't constantly entertain them. Then Aziraphale catches his eye. He's in the corner reading various books and scrolls he brought with him on the arch. How he could bring those instead of children Crowley will never understand (and quite frankly even though he wished to confront him about it he also didn't want to hear about the 'ineffable' or have him get fussier than the babies and run away for a century). "You see Aziraphale- Yeah, go bother him. He'll read you stories," Many of the children rushed toward the unsuspecting angel and the ones who remained Crowley could manage.

"Cr-crowley?" It is late at night, despite not needing to sleep both demon and angel are exhausted, and he doesn't expect one of the children to wake so soon. Of course he doesn't really know what to expect with kids.

"Yes," Crowley responds.Being a demon, he can see in the dark and her expression of fear is clear. "What are you doing up? It's bad enough I have to feed those little things every hour do I have to do that with you?" At that she gives a small smile.

"No, nothing like that. I just had a scary dream is all,"

"Ah, those happen," Crowley has put nightmares in many a mind before, mostly to sway them, but never in a child's.

"It was about the arch flooding cause there were too many people. It sunk to the bottom of the sea and the fish ate everyone's bones," she states her eyes wide as she recalls the fake memory.

"Morbid," Crowley replies biting his lip not sure how to comfort the child. "Arch is really sturdy though. The instructions to build this thing came straight from God so if it sinks that's on heavens hands,".

"It sank cause we're not supposed to be on here. We aren't are we?" Her voice cracks and tears start to roll down her cheeks.

"Now don't- come on sit here," he taps the place beside him and she follows his instructions. "Everything is uh, complicated to say the least. Whether you're supposed to be here or not depends on which side your looking on it from. But one thing, and the most important thing, is I wouldn't bring you on here for nothing. Like do you think I want to babysit for who knows how long while the storm of the century is outside if I didn't think it was necessary?"

"N-no, " she gives another shy smile and wipes her tears with the back of her hand. "I guess not,"

"Exactly, your obviously a smart kid. If I wasn't absolutely positive this stupid boat was going to hold I wouldn't have even tried," he says and she wraps her arms around in a hug. He pats her back not sure how else to respond.

"Thank you Mr. Crowley, that'll make my nightmares go away for sure! You're a saint!" She says chipperly and before he can correct her she skips off to bed.

"You're so very evil Crowley. What an evil deed reassuring a child," Azriphale says with a grin of his own.

"And how long have you been here? I thought you were taking to Noah and his "holy" family. Never mind, bug off angel. I'm always evil and saving this brats is against the divine plan so its evil," he reasons and the other just shakes his head reading yet again.

Feeding the kids is Crowley's least favorite parts (he had to do it at least three times! Not even Aziraphale ate that much) of the day. They were all whiny like usual only this time is 10 million times worse since they whined about not having enough food despite Crowley giving them as much as they could possibly need.

"She got more then me!" One kid yells pointing at a teen girl.

"Do you want more?" Crowley asks grabbing a piece of bread to give to him.

"Well, no but it's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair and actually this is a very small part of your life that will be fair so deal with it," Crowley snaps and the kid begins to cry. "Damn- Aziraphale!" He calls but sees the angel with his hands full as well as a toddler climbing him. He wouldn't be able to comfort the kid for a while.

"Kid, kid, listen. This is ridiculous. Just stop crying, you're fine. You're well fed and you aren't hurt and-" Crowley leans down but the kid continues to wail.

"I need to pee," A little girl says in his ear.

"Good to know," Crowley responds.

"I need to go now!" She yells and Crowley tilts his head away from her.

"Then go; you don't need my expertise you've done it plenty of times before," she whines again, kicks his shin, and walks away.

"Timothy is hungry," a teen hands him a baby while she calms down the still crying child.

"Does, Tim Tim need food? Hmmm, little pile of squishy flesh is hungry," Crowley asks reaching for the bottle of never ending milk. The baby cooks in response then hastily drinks the milk most of it going down his chin. "What a messy Tim Tim," he states as the baby sucks the milk down as if it's the last he'll ever have. He takes out a handkerchief cleaning up the giddy baby. "Out of everyone you've got to be the happiest baby. Did you know that? Did you know that, Tim Tim," At saying this Crowley heard a voice call his name and he looks up. Azriphale just mouths the words 'what a demonic demon Crowley is'.

"I'm the scariest demon in hell," Crowley tells the kids and most of them laugh excitedly.

"R-roar then! If your a demon roar like one!" A kid calls out.

"Roar? I'm a demon not a lion! I don't roar," he states.

"How do we know your a demon then? I think your just a weird kind man!" Another kid states.

"A man couldn't all bring us on an arch with plenty of food and drink. Nobody is that kind" A kid scolds the other " Mr. Crowley is just an embarrassed angel,"

"I'm not an angel!" But many kids already are murmuring in agreement of the severely misinformed kid. The actual angle in the room gives a small chuckle "I can turn into a snake; the one that tempted Adam and Eve!" Crowley states.

"Do it then! Snake! Snake!" The kids begin chanting the word. Crowley sighs closing his eyes and starts to form into the cold blooded creature.

"H-he a snake!" Most kids laugh in glee only a few run to Azriphale in fear. Crowley can hear a kid concerned that "Mr. Crowley got eaten by a snake". The angel is sure to reassure that Mr. Crowley did not get eaten by a snake instead he can turn into a snake. The younger ones don't exactly understand the concept and are happy to see Crowley in his usual form again.

"Only saving kids and teens huh? What about those who were on the edge of things?" An older teen guy asks while the kids eat there bread and listen to one of the other teen's stories. Besides Azriphale the charismatic storyteller has been the most help especially since in the past she had to take care of ten kids. She definitely is the most experienced.

"Not sure what you mean on the edge," Crowley replies sipping a bit of his wine.

"The day the storm came in, the same day you found me at the market, was my sister's 18 birthday," he states. Crowley doesn't say a word feeling the air thick with tension. "We were twins but my birthday was the next day...she wasn't brought here, was she?"

"...no," The teen, or rather the adult (though he still looked like a boy of maybe 16 at the most) stands up.

"Everyone is gone? My family, friends, mentors? My house, destroyed?" He asks but doesn't expect an answer. Instead he walks away, starting to go up to the deck.

"Aziraphale, one of the humans left," Crowley walks over saying in a hushed voice.

"Left?" Aziraphale questions.

"He went into the storm; seems really upset. Just check on him to make sure he doesn't get caught. I have babies to feed in a little bit so I'm asking you. And… I think you might be able to convince him to come down here," Crowley explains.

"Well alright but you owe me a lunch for this," Crowley rolls his eyes but nods agreeing to the favor.

Azriphale found the man getting pelted by rain while he stood on the edge of the ship. He didn't turn around yet he spoke at hearing the angel's footsteps.

"The world from end to end is empty and void of life. Completely wiped out except for this ship here. This ship that has a family, animals, and then about a hundred stow-away children," He says his voice monotone. Azriphale doesn't explain that many places were spared; it doesn't feel right to correct the distraught human."Do you know how many people were out there? I don't even know. But surely all those people didn't deserve death? They didn't deserve to be pushed into this raging sea and drowned when they're body tires of the condition. If God wants us dead couldn't we just be strikes down by a bolt of lightning? Why make us suffer?"

"The plan of the almighty is ineffable; even to me," Azriphale says then adds "But, against many odds, you're alive! So let's go back inside before your clothes get wetter," the human lets out a sad chuckle.

"And after? Once this passes I have no one. I'm alone in this world...God wants me dead? Was that part of the plan?"

"Well, a little bit but something plans go differently then expected especially with demonic intervention and-" Azriphale stops as he sees the human toss himself forward.

The angel's wings jut out and he swoops down to catch the spiraling human. It's an experience that sadly Azriphale has done many times. In total he's saved 1200 humans in the last century who've tried to end their life. Sometimes by spilling their poisonous drink or whispering encouraging words in their ears but only four in total has he caught. This man will most definitely be his fifth.

He reaches him grabbing on and pulling him upward. A moment later and the human would've plunged head first in the icy sea and if not killed by it would at the very least got a concussion.

"Now, now, it is not your time," Azriphale has his arms around the other's chest and can feel him shivering from the winds whipping around them. He positions his wings to shield the fragile being from the strongest winds.

"Apparently my time is past due; God wants me dead I'm just giving him his dues," He struggles in Azriphale's grasp but his grip doesn't loosen.

"Don't talk like that, let's dry you off and-"

"My sister would take care of the neighborhood kids. She'd feed them, she raised me and my brothers since she was ten. She taught us manners and we'd attended church every Sunday. We pray before every meal and even after. She stole from a man richer than a king with manners akin to a pig! That is her only crime and yet she's under many feet of unmerciful water dead to this cruel world! Was that fair? Should she have died, angel?" He yells out struggling against the other.

The man-no he really is just a boy- kicks with such force that Azriphale is forced to use a miracle. He falls asleep instantly no more shouting or protesting follows. He looks so peaceful sleeping, most humans do, and the angel frowns to himself. He'd awake just as agitated as before, perhaps even more, and could potentially try to commit suicide again.

Azriphale clicks his tongue thinking of a way to stop this humans distress. He said something about a sister did he not well...another miracle is performed; this time erasing all memories of her. It definitely wasn't his best miracle but couldn't be called his worst either.

"I'm so sorry," Azriphale mumbles out but over the roaring sea no one can hear him.

"You have wings? Does Mr. Crowley have some too?" A curious child asks touching Azriphale's feathers. A toddler to his right has decided the feathers are an excellent teething device and is trying to desperately get him off.

"Yes I do," Crowley says picking up the toddler presenting him a finger instead of the feathers he could choke on.

"Can we see?" Another asks walking over to him staring at his shoulders as if she could already see them.

"Maybe," He replies. "If you all are good for dinner and go to bed on time you can see them," Cheers follow Crowley's statement.

The baby babbles at Crowely and since no one else is around he babbles back at her. She giggles continuing 'talking' to him.

"I hear you; pretty cramped place huh? But right now you have to go to sleep; can you go to sleep?" The baby happily replies with nonsense. She's the last baby awake but it quite a stubborn one.

"Go to sleep, little talker and maybe for once I'll get a break," he sings a tuneless soft lullaby. "And with my break, I'll get to bother, Azriphale! And he'll just read his books, or eat his food, and ignore me, because he is gooooood,".

The baby closes her eyes but Crowley continues his made up song "Go to sleep, little babe, and hope we'll get off this ship that's driving me insane," he finishes with a few la la's and the baby is fast asleep.

"Papa?" A small toddler walks running into Crowley head on. He steps back before falling on his butt "Papa?" He asks again.

"Nope, not a Papa," Crowley says patting the confused child head. "Just a demon doing bad,"

"Papa!" He exclaims and Crowley sighs.

"Nope. Very disappointed you didn't get it the first time,"

"Papa!"

"Now this is a little excessive don't you think? How many times do I need to say no?" Crowley asks putting his hands on his hips. He might as well humor the toddler.

"Pa-pa! Papa! Papa!" He claps his hands.

"Can your Papa turn into a snake?" The boy nods. "Really? I doubt that. Can he strike fear into anything and everything?" Again he nods. "Is your dad a demon? If so I might know him,"

"Papa!" He claps again.

"Is your Papa's name Crowely?"

"Yes!"

"I don't think so," but the child giggles in response.

"What a good parent you make Crowley," Azriphale states grinning (and dare Crowley say the smile is devilish?).

"Papa!" The toddler exclaims to Azriphale and he goes bright red.

"It seems the little one doesn't have a big vocabulary,"

"So that's what it is angel?" Crowley gives his own grin. He nods in response.

Six days pass before the rain stops and the sun comes out; and just as Azriphale says a rainbow appears promising to never flood the world again.

Crowley can be thankful for that. He isn't sure he can take care of hundreds of kids again. Though with all the hugs they give him he can't complain too much.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #tw: sucide #sucide #sucide attempt #my writing #inspired by #long fic #long post #first time writing Good Omens!

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sol-korolevas · 5 years ago

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—haunted house tour, part i

pairing: pillars x reader

summary: it’s the season of the witch and you’re invited to take a tour of a haunted estate by your friends.

warning: none

words: 2k+

note: a long overdue halloween fic that was originally a super spicy sanemi story with no plot whatsoever. then i decided to incorporate a few of the other pillars so a monster fic was born. i had so much fun writing this and there will be a part 2 coming soon so please enjoy! my inbox is open for requests.

someone managed to convince everyone that the western tradition of halloween was a fun social event that could boost morals. while a fun event was an indisputable fact, you’re not quite sure if it will boost morals. for starters, the pillars themselves were partaking in the event as individual monsters they’ve picked out from a book that were imported from overseas.

shinobu was in charge of decorating an empty estate, alongside aoi and the butterfly girls. however, shinobu wanted to be a witch, so during the evenings, you saw her wearing a large pointed hat that looked a bit big for her small head. from what sumi said, she even hand painted the marks of a witch onto her face. the craftsmanship was so well-done that you thought shinobu had contracted warts.

“maybe i should paint something on your face too?” her soft voice couldn’t hide the vein that’s pushing upwards underneath the skin of her forehead. “you and everyone else who’ve asked me this question!” her lipstick-stained mouth twitched upward into a grin that hid malevolence underneath, causing you to shrink back and excuse yourself.

when the night of the haunted house tour arrived, you were the only person who wanted to go as a single. everyone else went as groups of three or more. when tanjiro and his friends came out, you noticed the immediate reactions. while inosuke insisted on going inside so he could fight everyone, zenitsu was dragging him back, while crying over the horrors within the building. tanjiro, on the other hand, seemed to be the only one who enjoyed it.

“where’s nezuko?” you asked, noticing the absence of the demon girl.

“she’s part of the attraction with the others,” tanjiro replied, beaming with pride. “we got a good glimpse of her, but i think she’s trying a little too hard to be scary.” the last of tanjiro’s words came out in a whisper. he then waved at you, just as both inosuke and zenitsu started tugging at his arms. “you enjoy the house, okay?”

once the butterfly girls came out, sniffling and laughing at the same time, it was your turn. you handed murata your ticket and he beckoned you in.

the first thing you noticed was the sheer darkness of the interior, followed by the subtle scent of wisteria flowers flowing through the air. you knew that the estate was a bit far away from the other buildings, so they put wisteria incense around to deter potential demons from slipping in. according to the people who already went, the path was just a one-way destination. after you finish, you go around the building and collect a wisteria pouch for your trip down.

when you enter the first room, you noticed that you’re face to face with a well placed in the very center. it didn’t look real enough to be one so you suppose it must be made from scratch materials. nothing else was in the room, though you notice a thin mist covering the bamboo floor.

the only logical thing to do was to interact with the well. steeling yourself, you made your way up and gazed into it.

“boo.” muichirou popped up, dressed in the clothing of the dead as he dropped a white ceramic plate onto the floor. he looked absolutely emotionless, perhaps even bored. when you didn’t react, he propped his chin on his arm and tilted his head. “strange,” he said softly, “everyone else was shocked and scared.” then, looking embarrassed, he sunk down into the well again.

for a moment, you were left startled by the suddenness of muichirou’s appearance. you’ve never thought of him to be an easily embarrassed type, so you felt guilty for not pretending to be scared. you walked over to the well’s entrance, seeing him adjusting his accessories within the darkness, and said, “you did a good job!” there was silence, before you distinctly heard muichirou’s voice respond with a ‘thanks.’

moving on, you trudged through a hallway lit with lights behind partition doors. the way they made it look like some of the lights were floating, but you noticed the people behind, moving the lights themselves. shrugging, you continued until you felt someone pushing you into a room. “from now on, random monsters will come and try to scare ya!” the voice said, muffled by a fabric covering their entire face.

and they were right, because for a short duration, multiple people covered in make up and cot sheets were jumping out from room and oddly placed furniture. they each attempted to grab at you, only for your hand to automatically come up and slap them lightly. soon, you began muttering more apologies than actually being scared. fortunately later on, the people started dwindling until you found yourself in another room.

the second room you were in was lit with individual lights of orange, red, and yellow. someone had brought in thick wax candles that were carved to look like ghoulish faces. you also saw two fake western pumpkins perched behind a group of candles, no doubt the brainchild of someone from shinobu’s estate. despite the wisteria scent still hovering in the air, you noted a vague smell that lurked underneath.

suddenly, mist poured forth in thick waves. a shape appeared, before it slowly lumbered over to you. their hands were stretched out, as if vying to grab hold of something. you then saw the paper talisman hanging off of their face and the mane of fiery hair underneath the hat.

“rengoku?”

your heart hammered with excitement as you watched rengoku amble towards you. a groan escaped his mouth, before he stopped, body frozen in mid-walk. “[name], you’re supposed to run around the room!” he quickly said in a whisper. then, he was back at walking, now hunching forward as he made his way around the room. frequently, he would shift his body towards you, but you stood there, stifling a laugh and body unable to move.

instead, you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around rengoku’s midsection, giggling. he froze then, arms sagging as he dropped his gaze to you. a faint breeze from your movement lifted a portion of the paper talisman upwards. through the tiny amount of light, you noticed that rengoku’s face was in shock—and if you dare to say—with darkening cheeks. but the shock coming from rengoku subsided and soon you felt two hands cupping your cheeks, gently lifting your head up.

“you’re quite a troublesome victim, [name]!” he said, voice bright and cheerful as always. in response to his comment, you stuck your tongue out before waltzing back.

“next time, i think you should be more fast and really grab someone!” you replied, holding your hands behind your back. “i wasn’t scared at all, not when you look so nice in that outfit.”

rengoku laughed, but you knew he was feeling more than happy on the inside. he then waved at you, just as the lights flickered off. now, it was time for you to leave his room and move on to the next attraction.

upon stepping into another corridor, you smelled the faint scent of something sweet. coupled with the wisteria scent that drifted through, it felt more like stepping into an oiran’s room. you also noticed that this hallway was a bit brighter than the last, with colorful decorations that were most liely imported from overseas, and some fake flowers that lined the walls. you pondered about staying here for a moment, just to gaze at everything, before you heard someone cough and whisper for you to go on to the next room.

before you could slide open the door, mitsuri came out, dressed in fake ears and several fake fox tails. she was absolutely giddy about something, but it wasn’t her expression that caught your surprise. no, it was the desserts that were placed on a long table behind her. none of these desserts were the same and some were even new to you.

“hello [name]! welcome to my banquet!” she said, holding your hand as she took you to the table. “i made most of these, but sanemi made the ohagi and—oh! he was here a moment ago, but i guess he went off to prepare for his room.” briefly, mitsuri looked disappointed before she perked up and tugged at the sleeve of your uniform. “but don’t worry your cute face, i’ll make sure to feed you well!”

“feed me?” you said, taken aback by the drastic change. however, you were feeling hungry and the temptation of sweets tugged at your mind. so before long, you were eating, with mitsuri piling more on your plate every time it goes empty. while doing so, mitsuri was talking about her room. she wanted a more western themed banquet that aligned with halloween, so everything was made to look like some type of spooky creature and item.

“i must say, sanemi was really good with reshaping those ohagi so they looked like cats, but i wouldn’t put it past him, he’s good with his hands after all!” mitsuri squealed and clapped her hands to her cheeks. she’s gushing about all of the pillars and non-pillars while you shove food into your mouth. suddenly, you heard the familiar sound of a snake’s hissing and accompanying footsteps.

“ah, iguro!” mitsuri said, moving to sit next to you. she then embraced you from the side, pulling you so close to her chest that you felt heat rushing into your cheeks. when you saw him, you almost choked on your food. wrapped around him was a fake cobra made from paper, but it looked so realistic that you thought it could’ve been breathing.

iguro looked at mitsuri first, then his eyes turned to you. “hurry up, you’re taking precious time away from us.” he was leering down at you, but you only swallowed your food and offered iguro your plate without saying a word. instead of decisively turning away, iguro stepped back. “..i didn’t say you can share your food with me!” he then turned around, but not before muttering ‘idiot’ under his breath.

“oh stop that, [name] was being nice!” mitsuri said, plucking a small onigiri off of your plate, before throwing it into her mouth. “iguro wants to join us, right?” there was a teasing tone in her words and you were certain iguro noticed. but in the next moment, he was sitting directly besides you. you were now sandwiched between both love and snake pillar, an d their close contact was making you shift with a fluttering sensation inside your ribs.

“here, a gift,” iguro said gruffly, showing you a sock puppet with eyes made of flat stones and a smile painted crookedly by hand. you set your plate on your lap, before mitsuri reached over and took it from you. you then slid the puppet onto your hand and played around with it.

“thank you! it’s lovely,” you said, “you’re really good at making these, you should show me how to do it later.” you saw iguro cross his arms against his chest, but all you heard was a grunt as he turned his head away. mitsuri was cooing at the leftover food, which she was too busy fawning over while eating. noting how much time you’ve already spent in this room, you then stood up and thanked both for their individual hospitality, sock puppet still on your hand.

“oh don’t mind us, we’re just looking out for our cutest member,” mitsuri said with a light giggle. she then stood up and lightly pushed you out of the door on the other side of the room. then, leaning in, she added, “he may not look like it, but i think iguro likes you a lot! and watch out for the dog up ahead.” just when you were about to turn around, mitsuri plants a kiss on your temple.

you felt yourself inhaling a deep breath, cheeks now hotter than ever. throwing your gaze back, you saw mitsuri watch you leave, hands clasped together. she wasn’t hiding her face nor did she look embarrassed, so you began to wonder if, perhaps—

but your thought was quickly pulled away when you felt someone lift you up off the ground. a small whimper escaped your throat as you feel them move, your legs hovering uselessly off the ground. but you sensed no malice from this person, so instead of fighting you close your eyes.

after all, this was still part of the attraction right?

#kimetsu no yaiba #muichiro tokito #rengoku kyoujurou #kanroji mitsuri #obanai iguro #shinazugawa sanemi #giyu tomioka #shinazugawa genya

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killjoy-loveit · 5 years ago

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Stitch Me Back Together- 2

A/N: I would like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction and isn’t to be taken as a true portrayal of reality. This is written in 1st POV, the character’s name is Fleur, and this is a series. I am still working on it, the end date isn’t set as of yet, however, I will try to update it when I can (though two updates are scheduled this month). Every member of Vixx will be featured in this piece, though for this second part the only one of them in it is Ken/Jaehwan. And as always the links to my masterlists will be in the notes!

Summary: Fleur is on a path of discovery, and what she finds might not be what she’s expecting. And we all know that at times, knowledge brings danger.

Word Count: 2,606

Genre: Supernatural/Fantasy/Mythical AU, Angst

****WARNING: Mentions of blood****

During the two weeks that I was off work, Lucille frequently came around. Almost as if she feared that I’d fall apart in a matter of hours if I was left alone for too long. While I wouldn’t break down in tears, I couldn’t guarantee the state of my mind for long. Something just didn’t add up, and I had two weeks to try to come to some sort of conclusion. Any free time I had without Lucille hovering over my shoulder was spent with my nose buried in medical textbooks. Or medical research papers. Or articles relating to medicine. However, the normal sources I went to had very little in the way of explaining what I’d seen. That’s when things took a turn.

I stopped limiting my search to the medical field. At this point, I wasn’t sure if I was losing my marbles or if it was actually something… Supernatural. But I’ve never been the type to give up without getting answers. So, despite being skeptical, I turned to resources I never would have considered otherwise. I frequented sites that gave supernatural explanations, involving magic and creatures that shouldn’t exist. Stores I used to avoid, even going so far as to express my confusion at their existence, became a second home. The person that probably monitors my account might’ve wondered what the hell was going on because I got a fraud alert after buying over $100 worth of books on the supernatural.

Of course, explaining that it was actually me that made those purchases over the phone was a tad interesting. And by that I mean difficult. I kept stammering, feeling like I was being interrogated when in reality all the person wanted was confirmation that I was the one who made the purchases. After that experience, I felt like maybe I was just being paranoid, or going overboard. Except that all changed when I found an explanation that fit. One that, under normal circumstances, I would have thrown directly out the window. It probably wouldn’t have even been allowed a second thought.

Based on the book I found, it said that Remi Juarez was… A shapeshifter. Further research only locked in that explanation in my mind. Some shapeshifter’s hearts beat slower, meaning the blood doesn’t circulate as fast, which could explain why he didn’t bleed out before getting to the ER. His blood had traces of an unknown element, one that made it difficult to figure out what treatments were safe. And I thought it was my imagination initially because no one else saw it, but I saw his face change for a split second- into one of the paramedics. But then it was gone. There was more in the book, but nothing that I’d be able to determine as true without the autopsy report in front of me.

At that point, I still thought I was losing my mind. It just didn’t make sense. All of the creatures and beings from mythology were just supposed to be fairytales, they weren’t meant to actually exist. Magic wasn’t meant to be real, just some fluke that could be easily debunked by science. But I was starting to realize that science couldn’t answer everything. It didn’t have the answers to the questions running through my mind and wreaking absolute havoc. I wanted it to be a dream. Wished that it was all in my head. But I started noticing things. The kind of things that wouldn’t typically hold any value.

Whenever I went out, I would notice at least one person who deviated from the norm but not to the point that just anybody would notice. People whose eyes flashed a different color; had unnaturally sharp incisors when they smiled; laughs that sounded like tinkling bells; beguiling words that could change another’s disposition in a matter of seconds; the slight brushing of one’s hands against another and causing them to go blank like they were in a trance. And I couldn’t keep denying it further, there was no point. I had to accept the fact that the supernatural existed- something I’d been denying since I was a kid. I was always that one kid to call bullshit on the sweet fairytales or scary stories adults would tell.

Fear had consumed me, becoming a permanent part of my being. Sometimes it was the overwhelming kind that could make someone want to curl into a ball in the corner of a room and never move. Other times it was just like a brief flicker of an old tv that’s connection had worsened over the years. The fear was hard to deal with, but I’d always been good at hiding my problems from Lucille. I never wanted her to worry, or be scared, or hurt, and if she saw that I was afraid, well… She’s always been a wild card when it comes to my stronger emotions. Either she’d try to solve the problem for me, or the solution would evade her and just lead her to be upset.

Though, it’s not that Lucille thought I couldn’t handle things on my own. No, she knows I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Rather, she’s always thought of us as a duo, fighting against the world together. Except that isn’t always a plausible way of handling things. This was one of those times, is one of those times. Feeling useless and paranoid wasn’t something I wanted to share with her, it’s something I needed to carry on my own.

My first day back at the hospital after reaching such a conclusion was nothing short of a mess. Keeping my mind clear was difficult. Whenever I saw something slightly out of the ordinary, the kind of thing that could be explained in one of the supernatural books I bought, it would stay in my head, flitting about. There were only two good things that happened that day: my request for a copy of Remi Juarez’s autopsy report was approved, and I managed to, somehow, perform my job without a falter. I was surprised that, despite the upheaval of the world I’d come to know, I could still function enough to treat patients effectively.

Today seemed to be going better though. I’d had my morning coffee and got to chat with Lucille a bit before she went to sleep. The sterile smell of the hospital, one that took me a long while to get used to, brought a new sense of comfort to me now. I was back where I was meant to be.

“Fleur, hey,” Selene called out, pausing me in my tracks.

“Oh,” I respond, lips parted and eyebrows raised. I’d been too lost in my head to notice I was passing the nurse’s station. Selene has been the resident gossip since she was hired two years ago. “Hello, how are you, Selene?”

She plastered a sympathetic smile on her face, it looked forced. She then pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I feel like I should be asking you that question. Of course, I’m more than fine! How are you holding up though, dearie?”

Bile rose up in the back of my throat. I’ve always hated small talk, especially if it was the fake, prying kind. People like that never actually cared about you, they just wanted information they could spread. “I’m managing. Thank you for your concern.” My lips pressed into a thin smile before I stepped past her.

Pleasantries are something I try to avoid as much as I can, it feels contrived. No one tells the truth to such questions, just as they don’t expect the truth. Such questions have become a way of greeting, not actually being asked because the other person cares. And heaven forbid you tell the truth, that’s a good way of making someone freeze in place. I could hear the way she huffed in annoyance as I walked off. It was no surprise to me though, not at this point. Selene wasn’t a pleasant person to begin with and she only got worse with time.

Now only one thing was on my mind: the autopsy report. I knew it’d be waiting for me when I arrived for my shift today, and I was anxious to get my hands on it. After retrieving the file, I quickly made my way to the doctor’s lounge to skim it before my shift starts. Settling down in one of the rickety chairs, I tried to convince myself that nothing would be out of the ordinary. But of course, such a wish couldn’t be granted.

Multiple irregularities seemed to jump straight from the page, and I was helpless not to fixate on them. The oddities started from the rate his blood clotted, to his bone density, and even to the bullets he was shot with. One of my first conclusions was proved to be true: Remi Juarez was shot from two directions. Meaning there were two shooters. Both seemed to have used the same bullets though, a mixture of silver and steel, which made it likely they were working together.

Another thing I learned from the report was that there was truly nothing else I could have done to save him. Each step I took was correct, and despite his slow blood flow, he had just lost far too much blood at that point. With the number of bullets that riddled his body, it was surprising he hadn’t bled out faster, let alone that his heart had managed to keep beating. But I still have questions that the report hasn’t answered. Why were there two shooters in the first place? Why wasn’t he dead on arrival? How did he survive for so long? And why, exactly, was the detective relieved when I didn’t know anything?

Twelve hours later, at eight in the evening, long since the sky had darkened considerably, I finished my shift. The air was crisp and refreshing after having been cooped up inside all day. Leaves crunched under my feet as I walked down the sidewalk, my eyes taking in the beautiful scenery of the city at night. People bustled about, groceries clutched in their hands, pushing strollers, young couples holding hands, businessmen with phones glued to their ears. I hadn’t driven to work this morning, and I was quite happy with that decision. I think I needed this, to see life like this.

That feeling didn’t die down until I was closer to my apartment building, maybe five minutes away. The street lights were flickering and I couldn’t spot another person on the sidewalks. The air felt eerie and thick, making it hard to catch my breath. Then I heard a low growling, joined by something scraping against the cement, sending chills up my spine. I swallowed the growing panic, the likelihood of something or someone being behind me was low. Clearly I haven’t been getting enough sleep since I’m imagining things.

Except I wasn’t imagining things, and I knew it the second I felt hot breath on the back of my neck. I jerked forward instantly but was quickly pulled back by long, twisted claws. A scream bubbled up in my throat, begging to be released- a plea that I ignored. The low growling started again, growing louder with each passing second, and this time it was directly in my ear. I felt the creature’s saliva drip onto my shoulder, soaking into my jacket.

I felt frozen in place, be it by terror or because of some mind trick the beast played on me I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t care which it was. I just wished I was running. That my feet would start without my mind telling them to. If ever there was a time for my feet to have a mind of their own it’s now. But alas, I had no such luck. The creature’s claws dragged down my arm, ripping through the fabric of my coat and digging into my skin. At that moment it was like my body woke up, I tore out of the beast’s grasp, ignoring the searing pain in my arm as its claws left me. I ran and I didn’t stop. My feet pounded down the sidewalk until I could make out my apartment building in the distance, but even then I didn’t stop- I could still feel the creature hot on my trail.

One second I was running and the next I was lying on the concrete, a grisly claw gripping my ankle. A panicked shriek pierced the air as I looked back and saw the creature. Its eyes glowed a dark red, with tough gray skin that resembled the concrete underneath me, and vicious-looking fangs that protruded from its mouth. Terror flooded my veins, this thing looked like a monster straight from my childhood nightmares. I kicked my free foot at its face, catching it by surprise and causing its grasp on me to falter. In that instant I shot to my feet, continuing my race to my apartment building.

This time I made it safely inside, but I didn’t relax until I was in my apartment with each entryway sealed. My breathing was heavy, coming out in pants as adrenaline raced through me. My mind was spinning. What had I done to get a beast sicced on me? Did someone know that I’d figured out what Remi Juarez was? Am I a target now? Once I’d calmed down enough, I felt the blood trailing down my arm, dripping onto the hardwood floors beneath my feet. Glancing at the scratches left behind by whatever that creature was, it was easy to tell that they weren’t deep enough to need stitches. I could take care of this myself with some disinfectant and gauze.

By the time my arm was wrapped up nice and tight, it was just past ten o’clock. There was only one person I could call. One person I could question. And I wasn’t even sure if he’d give me any answers, but I could try. Grabbing my cellphone from the counter, I dialed the small numbers on the card I’d kept close to me since I got it. The line rang, once, twice, three times. I thought I was going to go through to voicemail, but then I heard his voice.

“Hello?”

“Detective Lee, this is Fleur Boudreaux.” I could feel my determination wavering.

“Oh,” he sounded surprised. “It’s quite late, what are you calling about?”

“I need to talk to you,” I whispered hoarsely. “It’s important.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

He was at my door thirty minutes later, dressed in a more casual outfit than the last time I saw him. When he came into my apartment, the door fully closed behind him, I hesitated as I felt his gaze on me.

“What happened to your arm?” Detective Lee asked, stepping forward, eyebrows bunching together in concern.

“It’s why I called you,” I breathed out, moving my eyes to his. “I… Was attacked.”

His eyes widened considerably. “Attacked? Why didn’t you call the police?”

“Aren’t you the police?”

“I mean, yes, but‒”

I cut him off quickly. “I couldn’t just call the police about this. It had to be you, at least I think it has to. Anyone else will just think I’m crazy.”

The look in his eyes changed, realization flashing in them. “What are you talking about?”

“What I’m talking about,” I say, stepping forward. “Is Remi Juarez. He wasn’t human, and neither was the thing that attacked me tonight. So I have some questions I need you to answer, starting with: what the hell have I been dragged into?”

#vixx #vixx fanfic #vixx scenarios #vixx series #vixx ken #vixx jaehwan #vixx leo #vixx taekwoon #vixx ravi #vixx wonshik #vixx hongbin #vixx hyuk #vixx n #vixx hakyeon #vixx supernatural au #stitch me back together

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ifsomeoneasksiwasnothere · 5 years ago

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Porcelain Walls [One-Shot]

Read this on → | Wattpad | AO3 | Spirit | Deviantart

Character Pairing: Candy Pop/Jason the toymaker

Word Count: 5705

Rating: T

Warnings: Mention of murder, violence, and parent abuse.

Synopsis: A demonic colorful being, named Candy Pop, was stressed due to his repetitive routine. However, he was lucky that his tiredness was responsible for his encounter with someone who could distract him by their mysterious appearance and unstable temper, the toymaker.

A/N: Ok so, this is my very first story written in the English language that got actually complete, and I’m very excited to share it! I think that it’s important to say that I included a lot of my personal headcanons for these characters in the story.

If you think there are points to be improved, as long as you are respectful, criticism is welcome :D

(The cover was made by me.)

(Jason the toymaker and Amelie belongs to Krisantyl)

(Candy Pop belongs to DanceOfAngels)

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

As the night falls, the lights which came from the windows were turned off one by one. It was the time when adults were back from their jobs, most of the young went to sleep, and the kids wrapped themselves in their covers shrinking in fear, afraid of the monsters under their bed or in their closet. Every child was terrified of the boogeyman, even if they were not so sure what or who exactly it was, they knew that it was bad, and wanted to damage them. The dark, mysterious monster who hunts those who simply want to have a good night of sleep, no matter which country you live in, there is always a myth of a scary creature that torment children during rest time.

Candy Pop, however, was a vibrant, appealing being, whose appearance would seem innocent at first sight. His clothes were as colorful as the fireworks of fourth of July, while his pink-colored eyes along with his ocean blue hair, lured the ones who were easily interested in his unique looks, although their fate was mostly being murdered by the deceitful, and colorful Jester.

You could say that his personality matches his dressing style, but it depends on his current mood that can vary in a brief time, going from gentle and kind to a furious train wreck in a matter of seconds. But, he was quite playful, and little did he care what people said or thought about him. What only could make Candy Pop truly delighted, was doing what he had always done: Sail his journey without a destination, making as much chaos and destruction as he can along his path. He was the real boogeyman, the one who would not let the poor children rest. It was told in his myth, but that not only did he terrified people before they slept, also inside their dreams, too. For him, it was much more fun, of course, since he was able to force them to live their worst nightmares, continuously, until they felt so weak and helpless that Candy Pop could consume their souls with ease. The soul of humans was his favorite dish, even though it wasn't necessary to torment them before consumption, the Jester desired to do so only for the satisfaction he got from it. He enjoyed watching the discomfort and fear in people's eyes due to his doing. Seeing them beg for mercy, as it only made their death slower and more painful, made him feel alive.

Candy Pop had to collect human's essence to survive, it was not superfluous, it was a need. He would teleport himself into people's dreams and scare them to death, therefore consuming their souls. However, being forced to do so for his health annoyed him deeply. Torturing them before getting the essence of their lives was enjoyable but it took him time and effort to create an efficient nightmare where the person would prefer taking their own lives rather than living that moment forever. He had to think, plan, and search for horror elements for every single one of his victims, just to make it as personal as he wanted it to be. Obviously, besides the fun he had to execute his planned nightmares, it was tiring. Nevertheless, feeling mentally exhausted as he was, he still needed his energy from souls to maintain his powers.

The jester's exhaustion made him distracted, as he teleported to the wrong reality that he was looking for. Unfortunately, lacking his usual strength, his mood was unstable, which was a mortal trap for anyone who dared to challenge his patience.

Adjusting his vision, as he analyzed his surroundings, he finds himself in some kind of workshop, full of all sorts of toys. His eyes dashed around curiously at the place, noticing the unusual combination of handcrafts. Ragdolls, stuffed toys, porcelain dolls, puppets, along with different versions of music boxes were seen on wooden shelves fixed on the walls. There were hundreds of human-sized dolls spread across the room, some of them with cloth covering their faces, others without legs, eyes, arms, or even with their mouths or eyes stitched up shut. Each of them seemed to have a unique characteristic that distinguishes them from the others, too specific for it to be unintentional.

The place seemed perfect for kids due to the number of toys, but to his surprise, he saw no children, only a tall man looking at him with a serious expression. But as soon as they made eye contact, he seemed to get angrier than before, his long ginger locks hiding half of his irritated look.

"This place is so weird," — Candy Pop said as he scanned the place further, pretending that he was alone in that room. Every eye that there was in that workshop, except for Candy Pop's and the ginger's, appeared artificial, yet they had a certain life in them as if those penetrating eyes were not made of glass. There was something off about them.

The taller male, who glared at the jester, looked slightly offended, but he insisted on keeping his stoic impression not wanting to make him so easily readable, even though a stranger simply appeared out of thin air in his workshop and dared insult the place he so dearly called home. The first thought that crossed his mind was to rip that playful smile away from his face, not letting the vibrant stranger say something so disrespectful ever again.

"Who are you, and what on earth are you doing here?" — The serious male retorted, still looking at Candy Pop with his piercing amber eyes.

By the strong grasp he had on a small piece of fabric plus his assertive posture, it was clear that he was impatient and demanded explanations from the Jester, which was fair in the position he was in.

His dominant attitude immediately interested the jester as he returned to observe the ginger male, and suddenly, he stopped smiling. That was rare to happen, it was not always that something, or someone, could make the colorful man lose his cheerful and but insane persona. No matter how harsh or uncomfortable the situation was, Candy Pop would always wear that annoying, jokingly grin that could drive others mad.

He stared intensity at the other's eyes, noticing how they were sweet colored like honey yet looked so fierce. Although their color seemed to get brighter, emotionless and more intimidating at every second that passed, as he still didn't answer his question. Nevertheless, the blue-haired could not care less about the danger since the simple thought of him having the chance of having someone trying to end his life made him jump on his tiptoes and beam in excitement. Candy Pop was still amazed by his appearance, his hair was long, dark crimson as blood, as well as an unusual black design under his left eye that emphasized his bottom eyelashes, which only made him even more intrigued. The red-haired man appeared charming but dominant, territorial and deadly dangerous.

"Oh, you said something?" — Candy Pop asked as he blinked, visibly distracted by his attractive looks.

Not pleased, the taller male shoved the fabric piece he was holding aggressively across the worktable in front of him, making the jester jump in his spot due to the sudden action, and the ginger breath through his nose impatiently.

"I asked you a question," — he said calmly, but with a slightly irritated tone, — "Who. The fuck. Are you? And what are you doing here?"

The short moment of silence after his ask was interrupted by himself, who at the moment preferred a short quick answer rather than a long thoughtful one. At that instant, some explanation had to be made or else there would be some serious consequences.

"Answer me. Now." He demanded, glaring intensively at Candy Pop.

"How am I supposed to respond if you won't even let me speak?" — asked Candy Pop in a fake innocent tone. — "Didn't your parents teach you that is very rude to interrupt others?"

As the ginger's nails scratched the wooden table's surface from anger, piercing the old material, the color of his eyes faded to a lifeless bright green. The jester has touched a nerve for sure, mentioning his parents was not a welcome idea. However, taking a quiet sigh, he was able to hold himself not to scream at the vibrant one.

"Spit it out," — the serious male said.

"Candy Pop is the name," — he finally responded, bowing dramatically. — "Nothing like me, I know." — he said sarcastically, gesturing toward his colorful clothes.

"...Right," — the taller male furrowed his eyebrows as he stared suspiciously at the jester. Not exactly the answer he wanted which made him deeply frustrated. An unknown has just invaded his home and knowing their name was not enough for him. 'Why was he there?' 'What were his intentions?' 'Where did he come from?' Hundreds of unanswered questions crossed his mind in a short time which he could not manage himself, and that only made him angrier. Disorganization and chaos were his worst enemies, he disliked anything he could not control. Things needed to be in his way, or his way.

"And who do I own the pleasure to meet?" — The jester asked.

"Jason," — he answered in a nonchalant tone.

"You're a seller, Jason?" — Candy Pop inquired him as he examined the place once anew, still amazed by the uniqueness of each toy.

"I'm a toymaker, actually," — corrected Jason, — "Why do you care?"

"I don't," — he sassed, grinning mischievously from ear to ear.

The ginger only replied to him with a huff.

"Now," — began the toymaker, — "Would you mind leaving my workshop, that you so kindly invaded?"

"Excuse me?" — The jester snickered. — "Am I bothering you?"

"No, not at all!" — he said sarcastically. Jason's patience was at its last, there was so little that stopped him from damaging the provocative, vibrant being who appeared mysteriously at his office. His rage attacks occurred quite frequently, although he despised losing his mind and easily snap, it could not be helped. Many of his deliriums ended in the flesh of his once friends, being replaced by a filler material, and his entire workplace was replete by proof and memories from these times.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I stayed just a little while, would you?" — Candy Pop objected, smiling wider.

"Why do you seem so interested in here?" — The ginger male questioned.

"Because of you!" — the blue-haired beamed.

"Me?" — he rose an eyebrow in distrust, and in a matter of seconds, Jason's frustrations seemed to have hopped out of the window. Praising and compliments were his main, if not only, weakness. He would never truly admit it because whenever someone showed admiration towards him, he pretended to act confident and triumphant. 'I know, I know' he would say to them, but it never meant that he did not love hearing the kind words. Even though the toymaker never really thought little of himself, being worshipped by someone else made him bloom with satisfaction, warming the nonexistent heart beating inside of him like he was alive, not just an emotionless doll from his workshop.

"What do you mean?" — Jason asked suspiciously.

"You're different," — stated Candy Pop, — "from the humans I've seen, at least-"

"Different how?" — He interrupted Candy Pop once again, crossing his arms, deeply interested by the jester's answer.

"So you've made all of these?" — A slight flush on his face was unnoticed by the ginger, whilst the jester simply ignored him as he bounced toward the wooden shelves full of porcelain dolls and stuffed toys.

"Yes," — the toymaker replied, clearly puzzled and distressed by not having his answer, however, he did not persist. He knew that he was going to stress over nothing, it was no use to demand anything from him.

"They're quite... exotic," — Candy Pop admitted, — "You crafted them all by yourself?"

"Every piece, and every stitch," — the ginger boasted with a rare, small smile across his face, proud of his art.

Ever since Jason was a child, he had a noticeable interest in toys not only due to his age but because he saw life in them. The beauty of creating and expressing his world and imagination into objects, it amazed him. He became a toymaker so he could be able to live and work inside his creative mind, getting away from his painful reality. 'You need to study more, to get an actual job' his parents would say as they saw their child's perfect school report. 'Stop playing with these stupid toys!' Jason's father scowled, snatching the wooden mannequin from his hand and carelessly throwing it into the trash can. Truth is, his family never supported him, all they cared about was having a successful ideal son, with an impeccable life. For them, that was the only way that Jason could be truly happy: realizing his parents' dreams which they could not complete themselves. But, Jason refused to follow his parents' wishes. He opened his shop where he could sell all of his incredible hand-made toys. Not so surprisingly, due to his extraordinary talent, his market got quite popular among all age groups around his town. Nonetheless, his mother and father were not satisfied, considering that he got expelled from his own home and made clear that they never wanted to see his face in their house ever again.

Candy Pop pranced around the workshop curiously analyzing the various toys that decorated the place, ignoring the unsettling feeling of being watched by the eyes made of glass. He did not interact with any of the toys as he did not see the need for doing so, yet the ginger watched carefully his every move as if Candy Pop would ruin his handcraft by any silly touch. The jester stopped by a unique, human-sized doll that appealed to him. She had dreamy, sky-colored eyes along with her short, chocolate brown, wavy hair, and stunning, short, emerald, flowered dress, surely made her stand out from the other dolls.

"Did you base this one out of a real girl?" — he asked, admiring every single detail closely, brushing his fingers softly through the brunette doll's hair.

"Not really," — the toymaker said airly, not paying much attention to Candy Pop's moves whilst his thoughts were traveling somewhere else as he spoke, — "Why do you ask?"

"She seems much more detailed," — Candy Pop stated thoughtfully, as he glanced at him, — "You put more effort into her, apparently."

Jason avoided the jester's gaze, — "Maybe so."

An uncomfortable, inevitable silence soared through the atmosphere, except for the blue-haired, who was enjoying every second of the taller male's awkwardness. But the quietness was cut short by Candy Pop's curiosity.

"What inspired you to make this doll, then?" — a familiar provocative grin spread on his face.

The toymaker thought for a moment before answering:

"An ideal best friend," — he said, — "Someone patient, kind, and loyal."

"I see," — Candy Pop nodded, — "Did you give her a name?"

"Amelie," — Jason replied quickly, without thinking twice. He immediately regretted answering so incautiously, as he turned away from the jester, clutching at the small piece of fabric in front of him that was before tossed angerly aside, — "Her name is Amelie."

"Oh, Amelie," — he echoed, giggling softly, interested by Jason's sudden excitement on the subject, — "People with this name usually have a deep inner desire for love and companionship, and want to work with others to achieve peace and harmony."

A distinct 'rip' sound was heard, and with two separated pieces of fabric made from the same material, the toymaker furrowed his eyebrows, glaring furiously at his own hands, as his voice came out as serene as untouched water, — "And you know this because...?"

"I'm very good with names," — he stated, — "Knowing their meaning can be quite useful, they can tell a lot about people–"

"Not always," — the taller male interrupted, — "I know from... experience" — he mumbled the last part.

Jason glanced at Candy Pop from the corner of his eyes, "But do you know the meaning of my name?" he questioned.

"Jason, the one who heals," — Candy Pop recited, as he got closer to him, with an irritating, teasingly, and cheerful voice, — "Does it sound, perhaps, suitable to you?"

The ginger smiled proudly, ignoring the other's provocation, — "It does, indeed," — he said, — "I'm the one who fixes whatever needs to be corrected."

"Do you know how to fix hammers?" — the blue-haired questioned softly, as he rested his hand on the worktable, next to the toymaker, to support his tired body.

"Depends on who's asking," — fumed Jason, disliking the jester's sudden approach, and glancing at the jester's hand.

Candy Pop only giggled playfully, enjoying the ginger's stubbornness, — "Well, you see, I have a large hammer that I use very often, and it gets worn out quite easily," — he claimed, — "If you'd fix it, I'd appreciate that."

"And what do I get out of this?" — the serious male scoffed.

"The ideal best friend," — he replied, referring to the ginger's previous statement, grinning mischievously.

"Who? You?!" — Jason exploded in disbelief and doubt.

"What? No! Where did you get that from?" — Candy Pop spluttered, giggling hysterically, — "I can find the perfect friend you're looking for, as many as you want, all I need to do is break in their dreams, manipulate them into meeting you, and you deal with the rest!" — he beamed, — "I do this sort of stuff all the time, it should be fairly easy."

Jason scratched his chin thoughtfully, considering the offer, and then, making his final decision, he suddenly leaned forward, grabbing Candy Pop by his collar, who grasped the taller's hands as a reflex, yet not struggling against it, their faces only inches apart. The entire workshop lost its vivid magic as the room darkened, dolls stared deeply into the jester's soul, while the stuffed toys were frayed, lazily stitched, and as soiled and old as the wooden racks. Its glass eyes were morbid alike the toymaker's, and equally disturbing as his temper. Jason's gaze was locked on the blue-haired male, who discreetly smiled in awe at the ginger's demeanor.

"Here is my proposition..." — he began, keeping his voice low and calm, — "You do your... 'thing', and after that, when they finally come to me..." — there was a brief pause, — "I'll fix whatever you need." — Jason got even closer, his nose almost touching Candy Pop's, — "Then, never show your face here again."

Even though Candy Pop was an immortal being, during his thousands of years of life, he has never met someone so brave, mad, and strong as Jason. He certainly was different from other humans. Not only because his appearance changed drastically depending on his mood as he did, but because it impressed him that the toymaker was able to confront him with such courage and strength. Every time Jason showed any sign of anger, it filled Candy Pop with a peculiar feeling that he did not recognize. A warm sensation that made seem like his heart would jump out of his chest, plus the fluttering butterflies in his stomach, which weirdly enough, did not make him sick. He did not understand those feelings, however, it did not mean that he ignored them. Regardless of his little knowledge on the subject, he looked forward to figuring himself out by spending time with the ginger for as much time as he could.

Lost in the ginger's assertive eyes, along with his crimson locks that softly fell on his dominant expression, Candy Pop spent a fraction of time to recover his senses from what just happened, blinking softly as he bit his lower lip, glancing at the toymaker's lips with dreamy eyes.

"Deal." — he said simply, returning with his common playful grin shortly after, besides being uncomfortably close to someone he just met, — "See you around, Jason."

At that instant, after a snap of Candy Pop's fingers, Jason opened his eyes, and as he adjusted his vision, he was not in the same situation as recently. Whilst he slowly got up from his messy, red velvet couch, his blanket falling on the floor soon after, he rubbed his eyes lazily, like he just had woken up from a deep slumber. Aside from him, there was no one else in the workshop, except for his varied toys, porcelain dolls, and decorations. 'That was different.' Jason thought to himself.

The lonely toymaker would often dream about the most surrealist scenarios: Buttleflies as big as buildings flying over town, seeing his dear workshop melting like fresh paint on a canvas during a boiling hot day, talking animals offering him candy and tea, selling humans in his old toyshop but every customer was a living puppet, or his dolls coming back to life searching for revenge against him. Nevertheless, he had never dreamed or seen that irritating, but unique jester, which confused him for not knowing why such a vibrant, unknown being appeared in his dreams. Shrugging his worries off like he mostly does, Jason rested his head on his palms, mentally listing the tasks he had for the day, observing the details of the old wooden floor under him.

"Who was that guy?" — asked a gentle, female voice, her question echoing inside the small room.

"Go away!" — the impatient male grunted in response, not lifting his head from his hands.

The girl ignored his command utterly and kept talking.

"He seems nice," — she continued, her words making Jason tremble violently, — "And funny–"

"I've already told you to go away, Amelie!" — Screamed Jason in fury whilst he got up from his couch and glared at the source of the voice, digging his sharp nails into his palms, breaking the flesh slightly. The toymaker's hair was white as snow, and his angry orbs a bright, vivid emerald green, unlike his natural amber ones. He searched for the girl, analyzing every edge of his humble office, only to find no one. The porcelain and ragdolls appeared to be exactly where they were supposed to be, so was the stuffed toys, along with the puppets, and the other toys and decorations. After the second he noticed his sudden explosive behavior, he took a sharp breath as he paced toward his favorite chair, counted to ten mentally, and popped himself on to the few pillows on his navy blue sofa, that was carefully placed in the corner of the workshop. Still trying to calm his nerves, breathing heavily, the pale locks of his hair slowly faded to his usual ginger color, yet his eyes still gleamed like green fire.

"It's all in my head," — he whispered to no one in particular, looking at his own feet, — "She's not here, it's all in my head," — he repeated.

"But I'm still here, aren't I, Jason?" — said Amelie, smiling sarcastically at him, but her smile disappeared just as soon as it came.

A young woman, whose wavy hair seemed as soft and sweet as chocolate clouds, stood out her bright, sky blue eyes, and perfectly framed her delicate pale skin. She was wearing a simple, short green dress that ended before her unkles. And there she stood, right in front of Jason's sofa, her hands behind her back, whilst she had a permanent scowl on her face.

Once, a long time ago, Amelie used to be Jason's best, and only, friend. She was the kindest, most patient, and the most devoted person he has ever met in his entire life. They stuck together like gum since elementary school, every memory they built side by side were unforgettable for both, including their last one. When, due to a serious disagreement they had, Amelie and Jason decided to never speak to each other again.

During a stressful day working in his toyshop, Jason let his emotions get the better of him, and his last customer was the victim of his first rage attack. Blood splattered on the floor of his workshop with a quick swing of the handsaw that was strongly held in the toymaker's hand. The moment he noticed the atrocity he had just done, he panicked, his body trembled as goosebumps covered his arms, eyes wide and pressing his lips forming a straight line. But he could not simply stay there observing his mistake, he had to fix it somehow, therefore, he separated the customer's limbs from their body like an old ragdoll and hid the pieces of flesh inside one of his toys. An exaggeratedly long, purple snake with colorful eyes was chosen to be the toymaker's corpse bag. Ironically, Amelie entered the shop just after the incident, she wished to make up with Jason due to a previous fight they had, but she had really bad luck that day. He tried to explain to her what happened, desperately asking for her help, and Amelie told him that he should go to the police to confess what he did because it was the right thing to do, he murdered someone, after all. Jason, enraged for not being supported by his only, dearest friend, spent no time to stop her from going to the cops, using his bloody handsaw. In the end, after a tense battle, Amelie was able to crave a screwdriver right into the toymaker's heart, however, for her disappointment, even though he stumbled back in pain, he did not die. Something happened. Something that not even Jason himself understood, it was a shock to him just as much as it was for Amelie. One of the walls from the toyshop started to inflate, it crumbled as a blue door popped out. He spared Amelie's life and entered the mysterious door, never being seen anew, by her at least. Still, he searched everywhere for the perfect friend to replace Amelie, someone who would stay by his side no matter the situation. Yet every single time, he failed. Not pleased since he did not find the one he was looking for, he "fixed" them by turning their bodies into human-sized dolls which he could shape to his version of better. If he thought that they talked too much, he'd stitch their mouths shut. What if they tried to run away from him? Legs removed and may be replaced by decorations such as a mermaid tail, or wood animalistic limbs. Did they see something that they were not supposed to? Make them never see again. Just put glass instead, it will look better anyway.

Ever since that day, his mental state became weaker day by day of his life, and at some point he began to see hallucinations of his old friend, talking to him, walking around his office, or breaking his toys to get his attention. But, it was not real, it never has been, even if deep down he wished it was. The Amelie who appeared in his office now and then was only a manifestation of his last bit of sanity that disagreed with his unconsequential and violent decisions. Jason did not realize that, but he sincerely needed to have someone by his side that questioned his actions, accompanied him in that lonely workshop, and forced him to get out of his comfort zone.

It was not the first time that she was there, Jason was already used to her inconvenient apparitions. Nevertheless, the girl's presence still annoyed him to the core, he hated remembering the real Amelie by the single look of that dreamy, perfect, fake blue eyes.

The toymaker glared at the brunette as he lifted his gaze at her, leaning his elbow on the armchair and resting his head on his hand.

"What do you want?" — he asked uninterested, with a clear hint of irritancy in his voice, — "Are you here to lecture me, again? Or maybe ruin my day like you usually do?"

"Jeez, must you be dramatic all the time?" — mocked Amelie.

She crossed her arms, softly holding on the side of her shoulders as she ambles through the office unlike it was the first time, turning her head at any eye-catching toy, her brown locks bouncing gracefully. Jason's eyes followed her moves steadily, but his thoughts did not.

The brunette furrowed her eyebrows whilst her attention was towards the worktable in the center of the room, — "Why is this torn? Do you even know what scissors are? You should use it instead of screwing your material up, you don't have much of it too," — she scolded, pitifully grabbing two pieces of fabric that were whole once.

He narrowed his eyes as he tried to identify what Amelie was holding, then waved his free hand lazily.

"I don't remember how this happened," — Jason murmured.

"You know that I can tell when you're lying, right? Can't fool me again–"

"Yes, I can't, because you are not here."

"That still doesn't mean that you can just keep lying to peop–"

"Take care of your own life! Oh, wait–"

"FINE! I got it already," — retorted Amelie, spinning on her heel as she turned her back to the toymaker.

Exploring the workshop anew, unintentionally, she catches herself interested in the human-sized doll which Jason specifically crafted to resemble his old friend. She breathes through her nose grumpily.

"I'm not the only one who notices when you're lying," — huffed the brunette, tugging at her own dress' skirt, — "That weird guy knew that you weren't telling the truth about not referencing that doll from an actual girl."

Jason snickered lowly as if he was a god and Amelie merely a slug.

"As I care for what he knows," he said sarcastically, "For someone who was created from my mind, you know nothing about me at all."

"But what if he exposes you to the police?" — Amelie wondered with a purposeful overly-dramatic tone, taunting the toymaker.

"Did take a look at him?"

"Yea, and?"

"Do you really think he's the type who goes to the police? Someone, who follows the laws and makes sure that others attend them?"

'He has a point,' she pondered in silence as Jason grinned triumphantly, knowing that he was right.

Amelie crossed her arms anew, glaring at the ground. But her frown quickly disappeared, a confused expression taking its place. Her mind randomly aimed at the mysterious jester's reactions to Jason's anger. She remembered how he strangely enjoyed watching the ginger's irritation, pushing him only further to madness without caring about the consequences. 'Sounds like Jason,' the last part made her reflect on their similarities. It made her astonished as Candy Pop was not scared by Jason's true, furious form, on the contrary, he appeared to be aroused.

Jason positioned one leg over another, whilst he sank in the sofa's pillows carelessly, his attention focused on the ceiling.

"The mood gets so much better when you don't speak, please keep it that way," — he gibed.

Not listening to the toymaker, lost in her world, Amelie suddenly spoke:

"I think that colorful guy from before has a thing for you."

In a matter of seconds, Jason jumped from his chair wide-eyed, — "What the fuck?"

"He was looking at you in a very... suspicious way..." — she hinted, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at him from behind her shoulder, — "You seriously haven't noticed?"

"What are you talking about? Did you lose your damn mind?!" — hissed the ginger.

"C'mon! The hundreds of times when you had to snap him out of his daydreaming while he eyed you! You really think that his hammer, or whatever, is conveniently broken?" — insisted Amelie.

"He did not say that his hammer was broken, he said that it broke easily since he uses it often–"

"Think whatever suits you better, but it won't change the fact that he probably likes you."

"Amelie, he's a guy! A MAN!" — he shouted incredulously.

"So?"

"I don't like men, and even if he was interested in me, it would never happen." — Jason claimed, certain of himself.

Considering the environment that he grew up in, it was understandable that Jason rejected this subject without thinking twice. His father was not only too demanding of him, but he was also rudely, and extremely closed-minded. The toymaker got used to hearing his dad's discriminative opinions in his daily life, and due to his lack of courage at the time, he was never able to confront him. After all, he knew that if he disobeyed or angered his father in any way, he'd probably get beaten, humiliated, or in a more drastic situation, spelled from his home. Therefore, he avoids reflecting on sexuality at all costs. Unfortunately, these fears unconsciously stuck with him, shaping the core of his personality.

The brunette opened her mouth to protest, but was instantly interrupted by the toymaker:

"Well yes, he did say that I'm different, he's not wrong, I am quite unique, and I know it, plus he only persisted to stay here because of me," — rambled the ginger aimlessly, gesturing with his hands exaggeratedly, — "But that doesn't mean a thing–"

Amelie faced the wall in front of her as Jason babbled since his main priority at the moment was convincing himself rather than her. Hiding the unavoidable joy that rose in her face, she pressed her lips so hard to avoid her laughter, that they turned white. She put both her hands on her disbelieved expression at the following next hours that the ginger endlessly discussed the blue-haired male.

Who knew that the invisible walls, which the toymaker built inside his head, were actually made of such a fragile, ironical and familiar material such as porcelain, yet he has difficulty on breaking them.

#fanfic #jason the toymaker x candy pop #candypop #candy pop #creepypasta headcanon #jasonthetoymaker #jason the toymaker #Creepypastas #creepypasta

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