#leech answering some of my 'how does it work' questions too

[clove-pinks]

I can't stop thinking about people in the Crimean War period talking like the swells in contemporary John Leech cartoons. Just completely obsessed with this notion—

1850s Victorians really out here saying "YAS" and "Good gwacious!" and "I've had the misfortune to dwop my umbrellaw!"

DEUCED GRATIFYING.

[earlysunshines]

just pretend(?)

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: your coworker can’t seem to fall out of love with you so you convince your best friend to fake date you. sometimes the “fake” seems a little too real.

warnings: PINING!!! ; danielle is touchy and wonderful and reader is a mess ; kinda all over the place?? I'm also a bit iffy ab the pacing on this one ; bit of angst near the end ; alcohol ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread… none of my fics are…

a/n: this is based off my life rn bc my friend and i r literally fake dating so my coworker can stop being in love w me and i just HAD to turn this into a fic like what (but most of this is exaggerated ofc esp the whole coworker thing I made her a little over the top on purpose for the plotLOL)

"absolutely not." hanni looks disgusted, almost appalled with that stupid expression on her face. “you’re crazy.”

"please, i'll pay you." you beg, clasping your hands together and giving her your best puppy eyes.

"you're going to scare the hoes away... no, no, and no.”

"what ‘hoes’ hanni? when is the last time you've talked to a girl." you groan and pinch the bridge of your nose.

she sticks her tongue out at you, then responds, “you wouldn’t know…”

“dumbass the only reason i’m begging is because women do want me. please, it’s not going to be serious or anything—“

“i don’t care, the answer is no. ask someone else!”

you’re currently perched on the edge of your best friend's bed, practically begging for help. you seem to have a knack for attracting the strangest types of people, and this time, it’s your coworker who’s got severe attachment issues and an unhealthy level of codependency. all you wanted was a paycheck and simplicity, but now you find yourself in a situation you never asked for.

your best friend groans again, “you and your flirting… it gets you into this shit time and time again and the way you act… you know what you’re doing.”

“what?”

“shut up, you act gay and you know people fall for that. i’m not gonna help you because you want to be an asshole, if you could just be normal for once—“

“fuck you.” you flop onto her bed, shutting your eyes and rubbing your face. “i’m just nice and it’s fun to flirt! it’s nothing. i flirt with my friends and you all the time, they’re fine with it.”

“that’s because they’re straight, y/n. gay people are very vulnerable – except me.”

“you would know.” you retort, earning a glare from hanni. “who the hell do i ask then?”

“haerin?”

“she wouldn’t.”

“yunjin?”

“we don’t match, plus, she dates around.”

“sakura?”

“edating someone right now, some girl in france?”

“the hell?”

“i know.” you sigh louder and hanni just looks at you with slight, playful disgust. “what do i do.” you flop your hands onto the mattress and stare up. “dude, she’s too obsessed, i’m flattered because i mean, maybe i’m attractive and whatnot but this is just–”

“--delusion at its peak.” hanni clicks her tongue, now smiling at you; an idea pops up in your best friend's big head. you turn to face her, raising a brow. “how about dani? she’s literally perfect.”

danielle marsh is perfect, that’s the problem.

she’s a biology major whose ipad pro notes are so neat and pleasing to the eye that they genuinely keep you awake at night – most of it being because you’re leeching off her, but they’re so neat it really has you thinking how she does it all. 

to make things even more bewildering (and impressive), she’s one of two people you know – you’re unsure whether your cousin hyein counts, high school is nothing compared to what you endure – who manages to get at least eight hours of sleep daily. in contrast, everyone else in your circle, including yourself, is barely hanging on by a thread. 

yet, danielle seems to have cracked the code. she even finds time to volunteer at the library where she works, making you wonder if she’s some sort of extraordinary being. her ability to balance everything so effortlessly leaves you in awe, often questioning if she’s even real considering how remarkable she is.

the worst part is that she’s your best friend, right after hanni, and the person you’ve been crushing on since your first semester of university. 

it’s impossible not to have a crush on her—she’s gorgeous, sweet, and embodies everything you could ever want and more. she’s captivating, and every time you see her she flashes that stupid, adorable smile that makes your heart do a flip regardless of how many times you’ve convinced yourself that she’s unattainable and that there’s no way and that you don’t even like her and–

“i couldn’t.” you shut hanni down, quick. “she’s… you know.”

hanni furrows both brows, turning her head. “she’s what?”

“you know.” you make some strange gesture with your hands that only confuse hanni further. 

“i don’t, just fake date her.”

“she wouldn’t agree.”

“sure she would, let me call her!”

you shoot up and look at hanni with an expression that screams ‘are you out of your mind?’ as she finds danielle’s contact on her phone. 

before you can stop her, you hear a ringing sound and feel your body give up. hanni grins at you when danielle picks up five seconds later, both of you hearing a friendly, “hi!” as you back away from her.

“hey mo dani!” hanni greets, giving you a shit eating smirk. “miss l/n has a question for you.”

“she’s with you?” danielle’s voice is sweet like honey even from the phone. “hi!”

“hey!” you greet a little awkwardly, glaring at hanni. 

“y/n was wondering if you could date her.” 

eyes widening, you leap and grab the phone from hanni immediately, sputtering out jumbles of words nervously, “n-no! i mean, yeah… but not for real.” 

“oh,” you hear danielle respond lowly from the end of the phone. “wait, i’m confused.”

hanni watches you close your eyes tightly, clearly flustered and thrown off by her little antics. 

“y/n came over to ask me to date her, not actually, but just like, pretend.” hanni explains, “her coworker is still in love with her.”

“sarah?” you hear from the other end of the phone. “i thought you rejected her like, three months ago.”

“i did, but she’s still… ugh.” you flop onto the bed again and danielle hears hanni laughing in the background. “she’s still stuck on me i think, i don’t know, she’s been so…”

“if it’ll stop bothering you then i’ll help!”

“you will?” you respond, shocked. hanni mouths an i told you, then gets shoved. 

“yeah! i don’t want my best friend being so bothered, it must make you uncomfy too, right? working with someone who likes you?”

you start to wonder if danielle would be uncomfortable in a similar situation, maybe in one where she’s friends with someone who likes her, but she’s unaware of that. you shake your head, clearing your mind and staying present.

“kind of, it’s just… extra stress.”

“okay, then let’s date!” she beams, you can picture her eyes scrunching and smile growing. you want to die (affectionate) just thinking of it. “this should be fun!”

“thanks for helping out dani, thanks so much. i’ll let you be, okay? gotta go um… run errands.” 

“alright! just text me, bye, love you.” the call ends and you sigh again, feeling yourself sink deeper into hanni’s sheets.

hanni is very much your mortal enemy, she still doesn’t know why you’re so distraught because of danielle. whatever the reason may be, it makes her cackle next to you.

–

it’s nine in the morning, you didn’t have time to pregame the lecture on microbiology with at least three shots of espresso, and you’re yawning as you leave the room.

you hear your name being called out and turn to see no one other than the feeling of hot chocolate on a cold, snowy day turned into a person walking towards you – danielle.

“hey! hi.” she greets, smiling wide. her hair is clipped up and small strands of her hair stick out cutely. “hey baby.” 

you almost choke. “what?”

“did you forget we’re dating now?”

“oh.” dating, but is it even that if it’s not real? “um, hey babe?” it comes out uncertain and danielle laughs.

“wow, you suck at this – it’s okay, we’ll work on it.” she giggles, then links her arms with you. “let’s go get coffee, i need it in my system right now. oh my god, it’s our first date!”

laughing to hopefully fade away all signs of being flustered to oblivion, you tighten your arm that’s locked with hers. “right, yeah.”

you’re going on a ‘date’ with the prettiest girl on campus, she’s paying for your iced americano with oat milk splashed into it, and she’s smiling at you like you’re laughter in the rain. this can’t be good for you, it can’t be — it’s not. you wonder whether this will be worth it in the end because your coworker doesn’t even know about any of it.

(yet.)

–

before your next shift with your delusional coworker, you and danielle have already conjured up a storyline and backstory for your whole arrangement.

you two conversed for an hour after walking towards the park near her apartment and sitting down next to each other on the swings like kids. danielle was giggling and you were smiling at how charming she looked. unfortunately, you found yourself falling even harder for her just from making up the whole fake story.

danielle suggested keeping it simple, but cute: you two met at the library she worked at, you found her cute and exchanged numbers, went on a few dates, and have been girlfriends for nearly two months.

“but i literally told sarah that i wasn’t looking for anything.” you explain, sighing as you kick the mulch on the ground. that’s what you had said, but what you meant was that you’ve been looking for danielle the whole time. “she won’t believe it.”

“well,” danielle gives you a cheeky look and giggles. “i managed to charm you in a way that pushed that whole idea aside. that’s not too unbelievable, right?” she winks at you and you feel your heart stop momentarily.

you scoff playfully and snicker, “oh shut up.”

“it’s part of the story! are you saying i have no charm…”

she has too much charm. 

“dani, you’re such a dork.”

“a dork that caught your heart! i think this story is perfect.”

pushing aside the slight ache in your heart and the flush in your cheeks, the two of you formulate a first date story: you took her out bowling, where you lost terribly to her (danielle insisted this detail had to be included), and then you both had dessert together at your place. 

it’s not a terrible story, not at all. even hanni would be impressed, but you’re not going to tell her because she’d tease you both relentlessly, and you’re not sure your heart could handle that.

–

danielle walks you into work holding your hand, your coworker, sarah, watches the whole thing.

a pretty girl (pretty is an understatement in your opinion) smiles at you while walking you in, she’s telling you about the little kids she read to the other day and you can’t help but marvel at the excitement coursing through her.

she drops you off near the register right before the small ‘employees only’ sign, then holds both of your hands and looks at you like you’re a flower that’s just bloomed beautifully.

she pauses, observing you closely, then smiles wider. “okay, i’ll get going sweetheart.” the pet name makes you swallow subtly. “have fun at work!”

she takes her hands away from yours, making your skin feel a little colder. “bye, see you.”

danielle glances at your coworker, who’s looking at her with something mixed with confusion, anger, and a hint of disgust. she then looks back at you – a better sight in her opinion – smiling and waving once more before walking away.

you stay there, frozen for a few seconds, before walking behind the counter and setting your bag down.

as you grab your apron, you catch sarah in your peripheral and turn to greet her. “oh, hey.”

“who was that?” she asks immediately. “what’s up with the ‘sweetheart?’”

you grin as while tightening the lace of your apron, then respond, “my girlfriend.” and it feels wonderful rolling off your tongue.

“what? i thought you didn’t want anything?”

“you still in love with me or something?”

she feels her throat dry as she looks at you pat down your apron. “w-what?” she stutters, shaking her head. “no, why would i be…” her tone isn’t convincing, and neither is she when she adds, “it’s just… what’s with the change of heart?”

“she’s really charming,” the thought of danielle begging you to mention that makes you blush. “i like her a lot.”

sarah fights back a frown, instead, her lips twitch into a forced smile as she walks past you to tend to a customer.

–

danielle picks you up from work just to tighten the knot, and sarah also witnesses all of it.

both you and your coworker get off at closing, and after locking the doors, you run into danielle. 

she’s standing outside in a baby tee and jeans, a cap perched jauntily on her head. the moment she sees you, her face lights up into a pretty smile, and you instinctively return it. she rushes over, wrapping her arms around you in a warm hug. as she pulls back, she scans you with a playful yet affectionate gaze, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of admiration and curiosity.

“sweetheart! i missed you.”

“i missed you too dani– baby…” you mutter the last part shyly, making danielle giggle. “you came? it’s late.”

“i wanted to pick you up, can your girlfriend not do that?”

it still sends a shiver down your spine – hearing danielle call you that. you rub the back of your neck and look away nervously, then respond, “of course not, i’m just surprised.”

sarah looks at the two of you, scoffing under her breath. danielle hears it, turning to look at her and grin, raising her brows along with it before meeting you again. she places a hand on your shoulder, then mumbles, “well, hanni called us over, i wanted to scoop you.”

“ohhh,” it makes sense now, she wouldn’t willingly pick you up just because of the whole ‘fake dating’ thing, there had to be a motive. “alright. i can drive? if you’d like, you know. you must be tired from work too.”

“aw, you’d do that?”

“i um,” you cough, avoiding her eyes again because she’s making you feel all flustered without doing much. “yeah, it’s nothing… baby…”

she grabs your hand, fingers intertwining before dragging you along to her small suv, then handing you her keys. 

your coworker groans now that you two are further, narrowing her eyes at danielle when she turns back not so subtly to make sure sarah is looking. any normal person would back off, getting the hint that the person they want is unavailable, but sarah sees it as a challenge, somehow.

there’s nothing she can’t achieve when she puts her mind to it, that’s her mindset.

you’re oblivious to how insane she is, too clouded with how touchy and giggly danielle is after the whole interaction when teh two of you get in the car.

–

danielle sits besides you on hanni’s couch, leaning against you a bit. “yeah, she gave me a glare, it was kind of funny.”

“pftt– i guess it’s working then?” hanni asks, walking over to hand you two juice from her fridge. danielle takes it happily and it makes you smile a little. 

“i hope so.” you sip on your peach juice. “but she’s like, clinically insane.”

“is she?” danielle questions, tilting her head as her hand finds its way to your bicep. you blush.

“dude, she was crazy.” hanni rubs her temple. “like, oh my god, she was going insane for a good while because y/n didn’t want her like that. i saw their messages and–”

“okay i’ll tell the story thank you.” you scoff. “she’s really competitive, and i guess new to romance? considering how she reacted i don’t know, she’s very…”

“sensitive?” danielle asks – you shake your head.

“i mean no, but kind of. she would get jealous over me really easily and was kind of codependent, like everything i do affects her or something. i’d just go on my day, but she’d always be so reliant on me and text me so often and i just… it’s so much.”

“ah, i see. how long has it been since you rejected her?”

“a few months. i thought she stopped liking me since it’s been so long, but lately there’s been tension and she’s looking at me how she used to…” hanni listens closely as she watches you rub your forehead, looking a little distraught. “i just, oh my god she has terrible attachment issues it’s concerning. the only thing i could think of was pretending to date someone.”

danielle nods in understanding.

“yeah, one time i went to see y/n at work and she looked so like… hostile. that’s not normal, we’re visibly friends.” hanni adds.

you know the exact afternoon that it happened, what hanni mentioned that is. 

she had pulled up to drop something off, and you teasingly flirted with her, hugging her as thanks. afterward, you rang up one of her orders and played with her fingers, a little habit you had developed to annoy her. despite the evident look of disgust and annoyance on hanni’s face, your coworker—who allegedly liked you a bit too much—looked like hanni had just slapped you in the face or spat at you.

long story short, hanni glanced over to see the coworker glaring at her menacingly. in response, hanni poked at you once more before hurrying out with a latte in her hand, confused and slightly terrified.

“yeah she’s… got a bitch face.”

“it’s not normal to glare at people that simply interact with your coworker…” danielle mumbles. “i’m sorry to hear that.”

you wave your hand, giggling lightly. “it’s nothing, really. i mean, i just don’t want her to be so obsessed and stuck on me, i think us pretending to date should tame the fire.”

pretending. 

the word makes both you and danielle tense up.

–

you clock in again, greeting sarah. 

she smiles brightly at you, waving and you have to make a little gesture to remind her there’s a customer in line. sarah turns away bashfully, then takes the man’s order with a hint of attitude. you’re not very fond of that.

he orders an americano, so you immediately get to work, weighing out grinds of espresso, tamping it down, and pulling two shots. as you do so, sarah pulls up next to you and nudges your shoulder.

“hey,”

“hi.” you respond, not looking up from the cup in your hand. “did you need something?”

“that t-shirt looks good on you, have you been working out?”

you feel uneasy the moment she says it, swallowing a lump in your throat. you pour the two shots over the hot water and force a response, “thanks, and um, no.” before calling out the order.

sarah continues to watch you closely as you throw away the used espresso, then says, “your girlfriend didn’t drop you?”

“she’s working.”

“right. i’d find a way to drop off my girlfriend anytime that i could.”

“good for you?” you look her in the eye again, clenching your jaw. 

“you don’t post her much on your socials either, are you guys really a thing?”

fuck. 

you scoff, “what kind of question is that? of course… i just… don’t post much. we’re still kind of new to this.”

“right, she’s not even your lockscreen.”

“i’m going to grab some beans from the back,” you interrupt, redirecting the conversation away from the topic of your alleged girlfriend. sarah narrows her eyes at you as you turn away from her, stepping away and disappearing towards the storage area.

once you’re alone, you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling the weight of the strange interrogation settle on you. there was an unmistakable hostility in sarah’s tone, a sharp edge that cut through the air. hanni’s right, she always is. the mere thought of enduring six more hours with sarah makes you want to crawl into a hole. her jealousy is palpable, and it eats away at you, gnawing at your nerves.

you pull out your phone and quickly dial danielle, pacing back and forth as you wait for her to pick up.

“hello?” she responds less than ten seconds later. “what’s up?”

“she’s catching on, kind of. i think she’s jealous.” 

“sarah?”

“yes.” you groan, then lean your back against the wall. “i can’t work like this.”

“i’ll come over? do you need me to?”

“no, but can we meet after? i think we need to be more public, if that’s okay.”

you hear her confusion through the phone. “what? public?”

“like, soft launch or something. i just need to make it obvious that i’m quote on quote dating someone – you. and we need a lockscreen together.”

a giggle is heard on the other end of the line, “oh wow.” danielle mumbles teasingly, “this is pretty serious.”

“i hope i die.”

“aw, don’t say that babe. just come over to the library after, okay? good luck on your shift! i have to clock in soon too.”

“can we meet at my place?”

“anything is fine, that’s alright.”

“i literally owe you my first born, dani.”

“it’s nothing, this is quite entertaining.” she says, and you smile with the phone at your ear. “call me later, okay? send me updates.” 

“right, yeah.” you almost whisper, “thank you.”

“it’s nothing, sweetheart.” her laugh is infused into the sentence, making your chest burn.

–

“this is so dumb.” 

you are so dumb. this isn’t helping your case.

hanni and minji are fighting back laughter while you try to naturally rest your hand on danielles knuckles. you’re stiff and it looks anything but natural. 

the angle you take the picture at makes it look awkward, and the picture’s quality sucks too. 

“just relax.” danielle says, then holds your hand instead. “here, let me take the picture.”

you’re trying to keep your cool while minji and hanni watch and danielle, the prettiest girl you know, holds your hand and scoots closer to you in order to ‘soft launch’ your fraud of a relationship. her hand is nice in yours, her skin is soft, and she’s so close you can smell the vanilla fragrance she uses. 

danielle snaps a quick picture, then the rest of the bunch – including you – scoot over to look at the picture.

“well would you look at that! it’s perfect.��� danielle beams, grinning at her work. “post that one.”

“holy shit.” minji says in awe. “no yeah, you could fool me with that.”

“anyone could fool you, dumbass.” you snicker, looking up at her and smirking.

“i hate you.”

“oh, i guess you don’t want free food from my work…?” 

minji groans, making you laugh. 

danielle’s hand is still in yours, you don’t fully register it until you realize you need both hands to post a picture on your instagram story. she seems a bit disappointed when you let go, though you barely notice – and even if you did, you might just chalk it up to your imagination.

it's fun, no doubt about it. yet, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to take pictures of you and danielle that aren’t staged or orchestrated. you long for authenticity, capturing moments that are mundane and candid.

the thought lingers in your mind the whole time, even as you pose with your back to the camera, pretending to cook alongside danielle. it's all set up and artificial, every movement planned out, yet danielle starts giggling and leaning into you – a spontaneous gesture not part of your last-minute brainstorming. 

her laughter is genuine, her touch warm, and it makes you wonder if maybe, just maybe, not everything is as fake as it seems.

–

you wake up from your nap and groan as your ringtone renders you awake. blindly, you slap your hand in every direction on the bed until you feel it under your other pillow. someone’s calling you, that’s all you can make out since there’s a red and green circle. 

tiredly, you mumble, “hello?”

“hi! are you busy?” it’s danielle’s voice responding, shaking you awake. 

“oh, um, no.” you say as you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes and running a hand through your hair. “are you okay? did something happen?”

“i’m fine! i was just wondering if you were free. you sound tired, were you sleeping?”

“i just took a power nap that’s all. what was it that you need?”

“oh, sorry to wake you.”

“it’s fine, seriously.” 

“well,” she starts, “i was just wondering if you wanted to go out together?”

“oh, me?”

you hear her giggle through the phone and smile softly. “i mean, i am calling y/n, aren’t i?”

“yeah, you are.”

“and i’m asking you, my girlfriend, to hangout. it’s like a date!”

“we’re not actually dating danielle, you don’t have to pretend when we’re calling and alone.” you say quietly, pursing your lips.

it’s not that you hate it, danielle being all lovely and playing the role of your girlfriend too well. the thing is, it feels like you’re getting led on, and the way she is just gives you false hope to something real.

danielle feels a little ache in her heart when you respond like that, but she pushes it away for the time being.

“i don’t mind it, it’s fun!” she beams. “anyway, there’s free ice cream downtown for couples, do you want to grab some?”

“is there? yeah, i’m down. do you want to take the metro?” 

“that’s perfect, there’s probably so much traffic.”

“alright, i can scoop you and take us to the station in fifteen minutes, okay?”

“perfect.” she closes the conversation, and the call ends.

you flop down on the bed again, just for a moment. your eyes are fixated on the ceiling above as you breathe in, thinking about everything. 

you and danielle aren’t dating, not for real. it’s just a show, a sham. she simply wants to hang out for free ice cream, nothing more. you know this. you set yourself up for this whole fake dating thing—well, kind of, considering hanni was the culprit behind this whole arrangement.

it’s already been over a month, and danielle doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, treating the whole thing as no big deal. you must be insane; you can’t keep doing this knowing your feelings are growing and she most definitely doesn’t feel anything real. it’s just to benefit you, and she’s a great friend who’s willing to help you out. yet, each time you pretend, it gets harder to separate your act from reality.

despite the turmoil, you’re up and finding a change of clothes in order to make danielle happy. because even if she’s not your girlfriend, she’s your friend and you love her regardless.

(sometimes the love you have claws you from the inside.)

–

danielle clings to your arm the whole way down to the city. sometimes she clings a little tighter than usual, then goes silent, and it makes you breathe deeply.

it takes a few wrong turns and teasing to get to the icecream place, there’s already a long line with actual couples. you feel out of place in a way; there’s partners holding the other by the waist from behind, setting their heads on top of the others. a few are just holding hands or lingering close and you can just sense all the love and adoration in the air. 

you swallow shallowly, tensing your jaw because danielle is close to you, but not because you two are something more than friends.

“wow, so many lovebirds.” she says in awe, gazing around.

“uh huh.” you feel her hand slide down your forearm, then her fingers intertwine with yours as she looks up at you. “hm?”

“to seal the deal.” she shrugs, smiling. “plus, your hands are big… and warm.”

“you have small hands.”

“perfect fit for yours.” she giggles playfully, making you do the same. “what flavors did you want? it’s two scoops for free.”

“you can pick both, i don’t mind.”

“what? c’mon, you should pick one.”

“no, you wanted ice cream. i’m just here to make you happy.” you admit, tightening your grip on her hand. 

she starts to respond, but stops for a few seconds. you watch her look away bashfully, staring at the ground and grinning to herself. she shakes her head, then says, “you’re so lovely…”

“pfttt, i just want you to be happy, seriously.”

“you know,” she begins, looking at you again. “whoever manages to become your girlfriend would be real lucky.”

“oh.” your lips twitch into less of a smile and you pause for a moment. “maybe.”

“this fake dating thing is making me realize that you’re such girlfriend material.”

a small laugh stifles the tension and awkwardness in you, “thanks? you are too.”

“am i?”

“yeah.” you stare into her eyes, shes everything you could wish for in a person. “very.”

before danielle can respond, the line moves, and it’s time for the two of you to decide on two flavors. it takes a while to do so, with you declining the offer to chime in and pick a flavor you want, danielle was the one to invite you out anyway. but she looks at you with puppy eyes, pouts, then puts a hand on the side of your bicep and it makes you cave in.

the final choices are salted caramel and coffee.

danielle holds the cup in one hand, drags you away from the area littered with lovey dovey couples – some being too lovey, considering they can’t seem to get away from each other – and leads you blindly towards a small alley in a neighborhood until a bench comes into view. she pulls you towards it eagerly, making you laugh until you’re both sitting next to each other.

you frown a little as you look at the ice cream in the cup. “some of it is melted.”

“not all of it!” danielle beams, then scroops a spoonful of the coffee side – the flavor you ended up choosing. “you have the first taste.” she says, bringing it closer to your mouth.

“wait, you should have it.”

“too late,” she starts to move it in a circular motion, saying, “ahhh~” as she does so.

you scoff, then lean forward and all of it is in your mouth in one bite. danielle watches your eyes light up.

“it’s good.” you mutter, then grab the other spoon to scoop the other flavor. you mirror what danielle did before, making her laugh just as much. “open wiiiiide~”

“ahhh~”

you snicker before moving the spoon into her mouth, she closes it and smiles immediately, melting in place despite the ice cream being pretty cold. 

the street lights make her look precious, highlighting the satisfaction on her face because of some simple ice cream she’d gotten for free. you want to see her this happy everyday and as much as you can. 

a small hint of ice cream is on the corner of her lips, it urges you to bring your hand over and wipe it off with your thumb. danielle stops savoring the dessert, instead, focusing on you. 

“sorry, there was… yeah.”

“mhm.” danielle says, staring at your lips. “it’s really good.”

“i can tell.” you turn away, feeling flustered when she looks at you like that. “let me try your flavor.”

the two of you continue to eat ice cream together, subconsciously scooting closer and closer as you share it. danielle’s head ends up on your shoulder when the cup is empty in your hand, silent in her place.

you don’t budge, mainly because she seems comfortable and you don’t mind ruining your posture a bit if it’s for her. she sighs contentedly, moving her hand over to hold yours in the midst of the moment, slotting together effortlessly. she doesn’t say anything, but you feel her lean into you a little more.

“you okay?”

“just happy.”

“ah,” you rub your thumb against her skin. “that’s good.”

“being with you makes me really happy.”

“being with you makes me happier.” you say softly, staring at your hands aligned seamlessly. “do you want to stay here for a bit longer?”

“please.”

“it’s getting late.”

“i know, just a bit longer.” danielle says.

just a bit longer. if only the whole arrangement could last forever, if only you two could be this close and warm for lightyears.

minutes pass, and neither of you move, lost in the comforting silence. the only shift comes when you turn your head to press a gentle kiss into her hair. danielle feels perfectly in place, her heart fluttering at the tender gesture. a soft smile spreads across her face, a silent acknowledgment of the moment's sweetness.

–

the night prior had to be a dream, it was too perfect. it was the realest you’ve felt with danielle, the closest to something romantic. it was even enough to consider that she felt the same, and you’d love to revel in that possibility, but you have to restock the beans and cups quickly before tending to the drinks.

there’s only thirty more minutes until your shift ends, it feels like eternity.

sarah catches you smiling to yourself throughout the shift, biting the inside of her lip. she’s filled with all too much: anger, jealously, dissapointment, and really just everything that makes her uneasy. 

she still can’t believe it, you had gone on a whole tangent telling her you couldn’t be in a relationship and now you’re being a complete loser in front of her. she hates it, she wants it to be her that makes you smile randomly throughout the day.

what pisses her off more, and truly makes her lose all hope, is when you go from looking tired and drained to bubbly and smiley as soon as a familiar figure starts walking toward the counter. 

she watches you check the time on the register, your smile widening because you can clock out and be with danielle, who’s waiting just across the counter. the change in your demeanor is undeniable, and it stings sarah to see the joy that danielle effortlessly brings out in you.

you walk over to danielle, reaching for her hand. “hey.”

“hi.” the way danielle says it makes your chest warm and sarah nearly gags in return.

what makes sarah's shoulders sink, her heart drop, and her frown deepen is when danielle suddenly kisses your cheek. 

the shock is evident on your face as you stand frozen, your hand instinctively moving to hover over the spot where danielle's lips had just been. the tenderness of the moment is overwhelming, and sarah can't help but feel a profound sense of loss. the realization that your heart belongs entirely to danielle crushes any lingering hopes she had, leaving her to face the painful truth.

“w-what was that for?” you look over and make eye contact with sarah, who’s grimacing. “there’s um, you know… bystanders.”

“i missed you, so much. i couldn’t stop thinking about you.” danielle says simply, not bothering that sarah is the only one who’s witnessing this, and from a few feet away too. “do you want to get dinner?”

“it’s three in the afternoon silly.”

“well, anything is fine. we should study before we eat! i heard the module mr. lee assigned us was really helpful for…” 

the rest of what danielle says doesn’t register in your coworker’s mind. she studies you closely, her frown deepening with each passing second. it’s painfully clear to her now—you’re genuinely in love with danielle, and there's nothing she can do to change that. the way you look at danielle, like a child seeing a rainbow for the first time, leaves no room for doubt. 

it dawns on her that giving up is the only option, and she feels a pang of resignation settling in her chest.

–

nearly three months have passed and both of you have still been ‘pretending.’

neither of you acknowledge that it’s fake, not during the weekly dates, study sessions, and late night walks or movie nights that end up in the two of you falling asleep together. danielle doesn’t think twice when kissing your cheek here and there, even your knuckles when she thinks you’re asleep. 

you figure that maybe it’s okay to kiss her cheek too sometimes because she’s her lips turn each time. and when you pick her up for weekly dates, she happily jumps into the passengers seat of your car as if it weren’t just a mutual agreement. sarah has already given up, considering she seems defeated, and you wonder if you should too. 

you can’t tell if it’s just how danielle is, which eats you inside. everything feels all too real, and your feelings only grow more unbearable.

–

you shouldn’t have let jimin drag you out to minjeong’s party. she’s already left the moment you stepped into the house, she’s probably gotten a hold of a drink already.

jimin had noticed how deeply stressed you've been lately. your responses were slower, your shoulders seemed permanently slumped, and the stress was practically etched into your face. being one of your closest friends, jimin decided that it was time for a change. she was determined to get you out and help you relax, knowing how crucial it was for your well-being (and social life, to be completely real).

walking around, you scan the crowd for a familiar face. unfortunately, the only people you recognize are sunghoon and jake, who have a history of hitting on you despite your clear disinterest. they still haven't grasped that you're a lesbian. you quickly decide to steer clear of them.

the only reason you’re here is because you’ve been throwing yourself into your studies, staying late at the gym, and doing too much to avoid danielle – or even the thought of her.

(which is unfortunately impossible since every little thing reminds you of her.

the flowers on the counter at your work remind you of her smile, the couch in your apartment is where you two have spent hours together, and really, you’re hopeless.)

you find jimin outside on the porch with her other friends that you’ve only talked to once or twice. they’re all talking about something, clearly tipsy, and you’re walking over to linger near your friend.

“y/n! oh my gosh girl, where have you been? come here, have a drink!” jimin grabs your arm, pulling you in and hugging you like she hasn’t seen you in forever. “here, take a shot.”

she hands you a shot of what you assume is some cheap vodka, you didn’t even have time to pregame for this. you’re not against drinking, not at all, if anything you’re all for it. there’s videos of you in groupchats shotgunning beer and finishing with barely any reaction – but tonight, you don’t know if you’re in the mood for it.

one won’t hurt, maybe it’ll erase danielle from your mind for a moment.

“fine.” you grab the small glass, then bring it to your lips and cock your head back, eyes pinching for a brief moment as you swallow. “shit,” you mumble, “give me another.”

you don’t know what has taken over, because you’re downing two more without hesitation. jimin laughs and smiles proudly at you.

for a brief moment, everything feels fine. the music blasting from inside the house, a mix of charli xcx and the chatter of your friends mocking one of your professors and jake, makes you laugh out loud. amidst the chaos, you find a beer in your hand, and somehow, you manage to tolerate the taste. wonyoung appears too, and hands you another after you quickly finish the first. you accept it, even though you're already starting to feel a bit fuzzy.

jimin looks at minjeong with a sparkle in her eyes, and you subtly push her a little closer until their shoulders touch. they exchange smiles, and you watch, feeling proud of your matchmaking. 

your heart sinks as it suddenly reminds you all too much of danielle. the fondness and spark between jimin and minjeong make you frown, your grip on the beer tightening as the bittersweet memories flood back.

“fuck,” you practically whisper. “i need to, i’m going to get more um, drinks.” 

“hm? okay.” jimin says quickly, then turns back to the girl she’s linking arms with.

your head pounds, so you gulp down the can of beer in your hand, then crumple it and toss it toward a trash bin in your line of sight. 

as you make your way to the kitchen, you spot a bottle of vodka and pour yourself a shot into a plastic cup you found. the liquid burns your throat, intensifying the ache in your head. despite this, you pour another shot, perhaps a bit too generously, hoping to numb the growing pain and the emotions clawing at your heart.

the room feels like it’s spinning, you’re walking down some hall and blinking and blinking until you reach a bathroom. thankfully, no one is making out in it, but you check the shower for safety measures. 

you’re finally alone, groaning as you fall against the wall of the bathroom and slide down until you’re sitting on the bathroom floor.

clumsily, you grab your phone from your back pocket. the screen lights up to a picture of you and danielle, cheeks squished together and smiling. 

you stare at it for too long, your breath hitching and your vision blurring as the ache in your head intensifies. the happy memory contrasts sharply with the heaviness you feel now, making it all the more difficult to look away. she just looks so cute in it.

you tap your screen again, and another picture of her appears. it’s a picture of her asleep in the passengers seat, head tilted uncomfortably and lips parted slightly. you had set up your lock screen to cycle through images of danielle, initially to fool sarah, but also because seeing danielle’s face as soon as you pick up your phone makes you feel at ease. each photo captures her different expressions—laughing, pouting, lost in thought—and they all make you grin. 

the happiness you feel is bittersweet, knowing it’s all part of an arrangement that feels increasingly real to you.

your vision is a little unclear, but somehow it sharpens just so you can see her perfectly.

“fuck,” you gasp out, unlocking your phone and trying to navigate to your recent calls. you had called hanni earlier and she had just been lounging at her place. you figure that she’d be able to take you away from here.

you squint, pressing on the contact that has a and n, assuming it’s hanni, then wait as the phone rings.

“hello?”

“hanni, i’m… can you pick me up?”

“y/n?” her voice is muffled when it reaches your ears, “are you okay? what happened, where are you?”

“jimin… dragged me out. i drank… soooo much.”

“y/n, oh my gosh.”

“hanni, stay on the line, please.”

“i’m not–” the voice cuts off, you drop your phone on the carpet. “hello?”

“you have my location… right.” you slur, head leaning against the wall even more. “hanni i can’t do it anymore.”

“y/n, i’m on my way. are you alright?”

“hanni, i can’t.” you groan, staring up into space. “i don’t want to fake date danielle anymore. it feels too real, i hate it.”

silence follows before you hear the voice on the other end of the phone.

“you can’t? why, why didn’t you tell her?”

“she seems happy, and… we just, don’t acknowledge that it’s not real.”

“y/n…” 

danielle sits in her car, heart sinking. 

you dialed her on accident, and it doesn't seem like you know it’s her. 

“please come. please.”

danielle gulps, feeling tears forming in her eyes. 

–

danielle scavenges through the house your location on her phone has brought you to, looking around for you helplessly. 

she makes her way to the porch and spots jimin, who’s hands are on minjeongs neck as she holds her in place. danielle walks over, not wanting to disturb the intimacy, but you’re her biggest priority, so she’s willing to do so.

“jimin,”

she turns around, looking at danielle confusingly. “oh, when did you get here?”

“where’s y/n?”

“hmmm… she went to get drinks a while ago, she hasn’t come back yet. try the kitchen?”

“okay, thank you.” danielle says hurriedly, then rushes back inside.

she checks the kitchen, only to see jake and sunghoon with beers in their hands as they cackle loudly. you’re nowhere in sight, making her bite her lip in frustration.

danielle goes through every room on the first floor until she reaches a bathroom. she pushes the door open, and it suddenly stops, hitting someone. a groan escapes from behind the door.

"i'm so sorry!" danielle rushes out, peeking around the door to see who she’s just collided with. "y/n?" she gasps, eyes widening in recognition and concern.

you’re sitting against the wall, hair tousled and cheeks red. there’s a white tank top hugging you, the thin straps of it loose against your skin from your posture. 

“hanni?” you look up, squinting. “i wanna go home.” 

you see the figure move closer to you and close the door, then she squats down and you realize it’s not hanni. danielle comes into view, her eyebrows creased with concern. your cheeks flush even harder, and your lips part.

she puts a hand on your forehead, then cups her cheeks with both. “are you okay?”

“you’re not… hanni.”

danielle’s shoulders fall down a bit. “hanni um,” danielle hates lying, but she’s doing it now to save you from spiraling. “she sent me over.”

“oh.” the response from you cracks her heart slightly. “okay.”

"let's go," she says firmly, helping you up. despite being taller and more muscular than her, you lean on her for support. danielle manages to steady you with surprising ease, guiding you out of the bathroom and through the house, her grip strong and unwavering.

–

you collapse onto danielle’s couch and groan, your body is limp against the cushions.

a few moments later, she comes back with a cup of water, placing it on the coffee table before she sits you up. she tilts your chin up and you look at her with wonder as she grabs the cup and holds it to your lips, “drink.”

“mhm.” you mumble, sipping slowly and swallowing. 

your vision clears slightly, though it might just be danielle who’s grounding you. her concerned eyes meet yours, and while guilt tugs at you, you're also captivated by her beauty in this moment. you're drunk and out of your mind, thoughts muddled and unfocused.

“pretty.” you sigh dreamily. 

“y/n,” her voice is laced with uneasiness. “drink more water.”

“okay.”

“and stay the night, okay? you um, left…” she swallows hard, fighting back a frown. “you left your clothes here, i’ll go grab them.”

“can you stay with me though? will you? i really… just… i want you here.” 

danielle bites the inside of her lip, her eyes wide with confusion. just moments ago, you had admitted that you wanted to stop the whole ‘relationship’—that it had become too intense, too overwhelming. and now, you’re asking her to stay? her mind spins with the jarring shift in emotions.

you lean in, clinging onto her. danielle feels the warmth of your breath and the softness of your nose brushing against her neck. the touch sends a shiver through her, and she swallows hard, struggling to steady her breathing. as you pull back, your faces are mere inches apart. you lock eyes with her, your gaze heavy with so much. 

there’s a lump in her throat. “okay.”

–

danielle wakes up with you on top of her and your head in the crook of her neck. she hears you breathing softly and subconsciously, her hand slides into your hair.

why are you so confusing? danielle wonders, twirling your hair with her pointer finger. is this what you really want?

you’re incredibly considerate, a trait that’s always shone brightly. the way you go out of your way for her—planning dates, cherishing every moment together, simply because it makes her happy—fills her with a bittersweet feeling. she adores these shared moments, savoring the illusion of authenticity. but now that it’s clear that all of it strains you, it weighs heavily on her heart.

you stir awake, your breath warm and rhythmic against danielle's skin. as you hum softly, her cheeks flush a delicate pink. she feels the gentle pressure of your arms tightening around her, pulling her closer. you shift, nestling deeper into her, finding a more comfortable position. each movement sends a shiver through danielle, leaving her heart fluttering like crazy at eight in the morning.

she doesn’t know what to do.

–

danielle doesn’t ask you out or come over the whole week, excusing herself by saying she’s busy or caught up with things. of course, you don’t comment on it – she’s not really your girlfriend, you shouldn’t expect her time and affection. 

but then another week passes by and you don’t get any texts back, sometimes she even leaves you on delivered for hours. that’s not like her at all. 

you catch her in class and she’s still the same danielle you know – bubbly, pretty, and sweet – but that’s really the only time you see her these days. 

it’s confusing, all too confusing, so you barge into hanni’s apartment on a thursday evening because she’s the only one you can rant to about this.

“you didn’t even text me–”

“oh my god i think danielle fucking hates me.”

hanni lets you storm in, walking towards her room and flop onto her own bed. you look devasted, especially when you rub your face in your hands and groan loudly.

“okay, first of all: why the hell would she? second of all: yeah, why… why would she…?”

“she’s been avoiding me and i have no fucking clue why.”

“dude what.” 

you recount the entire story to hanni, animatedly illustrating every detail with exaggerated hand gestures. “so, jimin practically dragged me out to unwind, and i ended up drunk out of my mind!” you say. your hands wave dramatically, punctuating the story as you describe stumbling around, the room spinning, and how the whole ordeal felt like a whirlwind. 

hanni watches, her amusement growing as you explain the night’s events. “jesus.”

“yeah, and then danielle came and picked me up.”

“she did?”

“yeah… you called her over… didn’t you?”

“dude, what are you talking about.”

you pause, looking at her with confusion evident all over your face. then grab your phone, heart feeling strained when you see danielle posing with a stuffed animal that one time – out of many –  you two went to the mall together. you click on the phone app, looking at your recent calls and scrolling down to roughly two weeks ago.

you see hanni’s contact name, and then danielles after.

“hanni, did i… did i call you that night? two weeks ago, the friday night i went out.”

“dude you only called me that morning or something, you left something here.”

“oh my fucking god.” you gasp, putting a hand over your mouth. “oh my god.”

“y/n what.”

“i drunk dialed dani and i thought it was you. she told me you sent her to grab me…”

“what did you say to her?” hanni asks, looking at you with slight worry.

you groan, rubbing your face again. “i… i said i didn’t want to fake date her anymore.”

“oh, well that’s not too bad.”

“no, i remember it somehow. i said i hated it.”

your best friend looks at you, confused again. “you do?”

“yeah, but like, no?” you groan once more and fall onto the bed again. “hanni, i’ve… i’ve liked danielle since first semester.”

“oh.”

“yeah, oh.”

“you’ve been fake dating and simultaneously in love with her?”

you sigh. “yes.”

“holy shit.”

“yeah. i think she took it the wrong way, maybe she thinks i hate her?”

“you need to talk to her.”

“she doesn’t want to see me.”

“no, she’s so fond of you. i honestly think she likes you back.”

“okay it’s not the time for that–”

“shut the hell up bro.” hanni pinches your cheek and you slap her hand away. she begins again, “dude, she rambles about you and shit. there were times i actually thought you guys were really dating.”

“i wish.”

“then make it come true!” hanni groans. she pulls you up, then puts both hands on your shoulder. “you need to go talk to her, stop being a pussy.” 

“it’s not that–” 

your phone vibrates in your hand, snapping you out of your animated retelling. instinctively, you glance down and see a notification from danielle. hanni notices the shift in your expression, quirking an eyebrow as you stare at the screen, looking visibly distressed. she leans closer, peeking at the notification.

as your face unlocks the phone, the text is revealed: "can you come over? we should talk." your mouth drops open slightly in shock, and hanni mirrors your expression. the room suddenly feels heavy.

“dude.” hanni points at the screen – the obvious. “she–”

“fuck me.” you mutter, “fuck me.”

“dumbass,” hanni says, pushing you off her bed. you curse and look at her with “what the fuck?” written all over your face. hanni stands up and continues to push you out her room, saying, “go see your ‘girlfriend,’ even if it’s not real you better go talk to mo dani.”

you sigh, pushing her off you and grabbing your things before you walk towards hanni’s apartment door. you stare at the handle, then the text, and linger for a moment. hanni puts a hand on your shoulder and you look at her.

“i’m fucking terrified.”

“well you’ll feel even worse if you don’t go, so go.” hanni urges, opening the door and nudging you out.

–

the air is cold, it’s really just cold outside and it makes you shiver more than you already are just from the thought of the interaction.

you’re outside danielle’s work, sitting on the steps because you can’t bring yourself to go in and approach her directly. maybe it makes you a coward, but you’ve always been nervous about seeing her willingly and making the first move. the minutes stretch on, each one making you more anxious, but you can't help it. the thought of facing her, of initiating that crucial conversation, ties your stomach in knots. she called you out here anyway.

wind hits your cheeks and you bite your lip, walking around in your place in an attempt to warm up. then, you catch someone in the corner of your eye, so you turn around and meet danielle.

a loose sweater drapes over her frame, and wide-fit linen pants hide the shape of her legs. the wind tousles her hair just as it does yours, but she looks effortlessly angelic, stopping your heart for a moment. her hair, caught in the breeze, frames her face in a way that makes her seem almost ethereal, temporarily making you forget your worries.

then she’s walking toward you, and you remember why you’re here.

you swallow hard, body tensing. 

“thank’s for coming, i’m sorry i haven’t been.. um, able to spend time with you.” she looks nervous, her eyes avoiding yours and hands fiddling with each other. she stares at your necklace instead as she continues, “i’ve just… i wanted to talk to you about what we have.”

“right, i wanted to talk to you about it too.”

“oh,” danielle says quietly. “i’m sorry, i didn’t want to be a burden. you called me instead of hanni the night you got drunk and i know how you feel about fake dating. i’m sorry that you had to do it with me and it caused you so much stress i just–”

your heart aches as you listen to her ramble, guilt evident in her voice for something that’s not her fault. you can't bear to hear her blame herself. your brows furrow with pity as you gently cut her off, “danielle, no, let me–”

“stop, i want to make myself clear. i want to explain a lot of things to you, you’re so lovely and sweet and you don’t deserve to be so stressed. it’s just, okay, wait.”

she pauses, breathing in, and looking at you with tears lining her eyes. your breath shakes looking at her like that, you can’t breathe or speak in the moment.

danielle purses her lips before continuing, “okay, when hanni first said you wanted to date me, i got so excited because well, i always thought you were cute.” she turns her head to the side and bites her lip before looking back at you. “and then you said it wasn’t an actual date, you wanted it to be fake. i don’t know i just, i felt really sad when it happened but at the same time the thought of fake dating you didn’t seem too bad because i’m selfish and i mean, i liked you a little and i thought i could just fake it and revel in the artificial aspect until i got over it but i ended up falling for you so much and i’m sorry. i don’t want you to think im anything like sarah–”

“danielle, stop.”

“no, y/n i just want to explain myself–”

“danielle, shut up, oh my god.” you gasp, looking at her in disbelief. “you, are you fucking with me?”

she looks at you, still feeling guilty. when she blinks, two tears fall down her cheeks and she inhales sharply as she conceals a sob. she turns away, then murmurs, “no, i’m so sorry.”

“n-no, no. dani, danielle.” you almost breathe it out, then bring both hands to hold her face. your hands cup her cheeks making her face you. “please stop crying, i’m sorry, baby, i’m sorry.”

“b-baby?” she says, confusing taking over her features. you had gotten so used to calling her endearing pet names that it slipped out so suddenly in the heat of the moment.

the lights outside shine just enough for you to see her clearly. her eyes are watery, tears staining her cheeks, and you use your thumb to gently wipe them away. her nose is a little pink, and so are her cheeks. of course, she’s a pretty crier too, but you look at her with guilt, shaking your head as you continue to stroke her cheeks with your thumb. the sight of her like this breaks your heart even more.

“i only said i hated it because it was all too real, but not in a bad way. not at all.” 

“really?” she says between sniffles. “w-what do you mean?”

“i’m saying that,” you use your thumb to rub a tear threatening to fall from the corner of her eye. “i hated it because i couldn’t take the fact that it wasn’t real. i wanted it to be real. danielle, i’ve wanted to be yours since you first gave me the notes from the first lecture we had together.”

“what?”

“danielle,” you almost whisper, then kiss her forehead. “i like you so much. i don’t hate you, or this – i hate that it’s not real.”

her mouth opens in shock as she looks at you, sniffling. you anxiously wait for a response, hoping she'll say something, but she doesn’t. instead, she hugs you, wrapping her arms around you tightly. you return the embrace, holding her just as tight. the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in the nerveracking moment.

“i like you too – a lot. i was so scared when you said you hated it, i thought i was making you uncomfortable and gosh i just felt so bad and–”

you rub her back with your hand and cut her off, “i was anything but uncomfortable, i felt like i was living in a fantasy.”

“thank god.” danielle sighs in relief. 

you pull away, looking at her again and wiping remnants of tears with your thumb again. “i’m sorry for making you cry.”

if you could go back and punch yourself for being stupid — you’d do it in a heartbeat. a dumb slip up and miscommunication from your lips is the reason danielle’s nose is still tinted pink from crying, you feel guilty as ever.

in your hands, it feels like you hold the world. she shakes her head in your hold, then smiles from relief.

“it’s okay.”

“are you busy after this?”

danielle giggles, shaking her head again. “if you’re asking me out on a date – a real one – then absolutely not.”

“dinner? it’s on me for being stupid that night, and this whole time.”

“perfect.”

you smile sweetly at her, your gaze lingering on her lips. before you know it, you lean in and boldly peck her right then and there. she gasps when you pull away, looking at you with widened eyes as you back off. but then, she reels you in again, leaning closer and kissing you once more. the kiss is soft and warm, filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that have built up between you. you feel her smile against your lips, and everything else fades away.

when you part again, you look at her fondly and ask, “wait, this is real, right? like, we’re…”

danielle laughs, hastily pecking you once more and lingering close.

“i don’t think it’s the alcohol that made you so dense and stupid.”

[lucidlivi]

she calls me daddy now

popping in with the supernatural/true blood crossover you didn't know you needed!

Warning: not suited for minors, strong language, sexual innuendos, sex, slight threesome, violence, blood, gore, major character death, blood drinking, blood draining, mentions of death, staking, vampire burning, major angst, heartbroken Dean

I will be working on other prompt requests soon but I had this idea and didn’t want to lose it, I hope you guys love it as much as I do!

A switch in viewpoints will be indicate in bold italics

Reader

"Fangtasia? really?" I snort glancing at the boys beside me.

"Leeches with a sense of humor.. great." Dean grumbles.

"So much for mainstreaming, Louisiana has one of the highest disappearance rates in the country... 346 people in this last month alone. You and I both know what really happened to them." Sam says looking at the news article on his cellphone.

"And you're sure we're going to find help here?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"I mean there has to be some sort of order to things, even for vampires.'" I shrugged.

"And since we're not scoring a date with the vampire queen , one of her pawns should work just fine." Sam said as I watched the eager humans line up to get in to the famous vampire bar.

It's been years now since vampires exposed themselves to the world.

Of course we already knew of their existence.

However, with the invention of synthetic blood the vamps decided they wanted to become part of society, mainstream they call it.

It took the world by storm.

People were lining up to meet and more disgustingly volunteer to get bitten by a vampire.

It was sickening.

As you can imagine this did not go over well with the hunting community.

It was a question on everyone's mind.

Could vamps really change?

Could they be functioning members of a society?

In Louisiana the answer was no.

"I still don't like this." Dean growled as we took our place in line for entrance to the bar.

"No one does, but we have to try to work out some sort of treaty, some sort of peace between us and them, too many people are dying." Sam said.

Oh Sammy.

As if peace between vampires and humans was possible.

We were a meal to them, nothing more.

I could feel Dean's anxiety pushing in to me, making me anxious.

I grabbed his hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. He was quick to lace our fingers together pulling me closer to him.

He instantly calmed a bit.

Dean and I had an interesting relationship.

Sam, he was like my annoying little brother.

But not Dean.

Dean and I shared a connection that went deeper.

He and I just got each other.

We weren't what you would call a thing though.

A hunter's life didn't afford us that privilege.

I knew that no matter what we would always look out for each other and if something were to happen to one of us, the other would never be the same.

It was a terrifying feeling in our line of work, since a brush with death was a daily occurrence for us.

As we got closer to the door I slipped my hand from Dean's.

I could see a lady at the door taking ID's, and from her too straight posture and her perfect looks I could tell she was one of them.

I had seen a vampire or two in my lifetime so they were easy for me to spot.

I felt the air shift as we got closer, causing me to pull my leather jacket tighter around my body.

"ID." she ordered extending her perfectly manicured hand towards me, her eyes focused elsewhere.

I sized her up, trying to guess her age. If I had to I'd say definitely over 100 years old.

She looked experienced, which is how you could tell a vampire's true age.

After a moment of stillness she finally glanced up meeting my eyes.

She glared at me, as if I was beneath her.

I simply stared back at her.

She flashed her fangs willing me to fall at her feet in submission.

I could feel Dean tense behind me, ready to pounce if needed.

"ID." She ordered once again with a southern drawl.

I gave her a forced smile, pulling out a fake ID card.

If she knew it was fake, she didn't say anything, just let me pass. Sam and Dean were let in without showing ID much to my annoyance.

As soon as we were past the rope, the woman at the door disappeared.

I could smell the stench of sex, sweat, and booze as the doors to the bar opened.

If I thought the name was ridiculous, the inside was even more ridiculous. It was decorated in reds and blacks, really selling the vampire theme.

I scoffed at the patrons who were clad in leather and lace. It was like they were proud to be flaunting their flesh for the bloodsuckers.

Perhaps though the most ridiculous and tacky thing was the throne in the middle of the stage overlooking the bar.

My eyes traveled up the throne before connecting with a pair of icy blue ones.

Suddenly it was as if I was being pulled into some sort of trance.

His eyes boring into my own.

I quickly broke eye contact taking a moment to take in his other features.

A mess of blonde locks lay on his head.

His jaw perfectly defined along with his other facial features.

His hands that were gripping the arm rests of the throne, large and lethal.

He was frighteningly tall, even taller than Sam, and he was basically Bigfoot.

It was however the smirk that played on his lips that made my blood boil.

He knew what I was, just as I knew what he was.

A vampire.

Just the pawn we were looking for.

I noticed the perfect blonde woman from the door suddenly at his side, leaning over and whispering in his ear.

I could see her glance in our direction.

She was trying to be discreet but I was on to her.

She was warning him.

Warning him about us.

I didn't get to see anything else as Dean pulled me towards a booth in the back.

I took this moment to study the people.

It was sickening seeing so many vampires and humans mingling like they weren't bloodthirsty monsters, and the humans eager to be their next meal.

"So I think the big blonde guy is who we need to talk to." Sam said looking between me and Dean.

I rolled my eyes.

Is he serious right now?

"Really Sam what gave you that idea huh? The throne in the middle of the stage? The way all the other vampires flock to him? Or, or maybe it’s the fact that he's glaring daggers at us right about now." I sassed feeling the blonde's eyes burning me from behind.

"Okay so what's the plan then, I don't think he's going to talk to us willingly." Dean said ignoring my attitude.

"Well maybe not us." Sam said pointing between himself and Dean.

Dean looked around seeing the blonde man's eyes devouring my form.

"No absolutely not." Dean interjected quickly.

"Dean, it may be our only shot I seemed to have peaked his interest." I said turning my body fully towards him.

"We can figure something else out then, this is reckless and you know that." Dean growled.

"I know but I don't think we have that kind of time, people are dying Dean, people we swore to protect." I shot back.

"Yeah well I swore to protect you." Dean gutted.

"So then protect me." I said rising from my seat.

Dean was not happy, that much was evident on his face. I couldn't focus on that right now though. I was doing this.

I took a deep breath straightening out my jacket.

I slowly approached the throne, center stage.I could see people eyeing me with envy. I was only focused on the vamp, whose eyes grew more curious the closer I got.

I was about to take another step but was halted by another man, who I could tell was also a vampire.

"Sorry no one speaks to Mr. Northman without his permission." He growled at me.

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes at this.

Who the hell did this vamp think he was, god?

"Chow, let her through." A strong voice spoke.

It didn't take me long to figure out it came from the vampire on the throne.

The man grumbled something under his breath before stepping to the side.

I took another deep breath striding in front of the blonde man.

"Mr. Northman I presume?"

"Please, call me Eric, and who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" He smirked.

I thought for a minute if I should make up some fake name.

"And mind you I can tell if you're lying." He added, somehow reading my thoughts.

"y/n." I offered only my first name.

"What I can I do for you y/n?" He asked interested, as if I was going to offer him my neck.

"I think you know why we're here." I stated crossing my arms in front of myself as if it would put more distant between me and Eric.

"Yes unfortunately , it was only a matter of time before you hunters showed up."

"We wouldn't have to if you leeches kept yourselves in check." I bit back quickly.

"Well aren't you sweet." Eric smirked.

"Yeah not really."

I knew I should probably watch my tongue in a bar full of vampires. However, when my anger got the best of me, I couldn’t control the things that spilled from my lips.

"You have no idea who you're talking to do you?" Eric laughed, standing to his full height.

He towered over my short stature easily.

I wouldn't let him intimidate me though which is exactly what he was trying to do.

"So enlighten me then Mr. Northman."

"I'm a thousand year old viking darling, I'm not threatened by you or anyone for that matter."

"I'm not here to threaten you, I'm here to help you." I retorted quickly, acting unfazed by the declaration of his true age.

My statement resulted in another laugh from the viking vampire.

"Help me? Now what in that pretty little head of yours makes you think I need, or want your help." He whispered menacingly, clearly trying to threaten me.

I would have been a little more afraid had I not noticed the slight crease in his eyebrows as he spoke.

He was worried about something.

My guess, pressure from his boss to solve his little vampire problem.

Order.

Creatures couldn't function without it.

I couldn't fight the smirk that made it's way to my face.

"I think you're worried, 346 bodies is a lot of bodies to hide, I mean we know that they didn’t really disappear did they? Also isn't it your job to keep all these vampires in line? I'm guessing a bunch of rogue vampires going on a killing spree doesn’t exactly fair well with your boss." I taunted.

I knew I pushed it too far when his fangs popped out with a click.

He quickly wrapped a hand around my throat causing Dean to shoot up, pulling out his gun loaded with ultraviolet emitting bullets.

If Eric saw him, he was completely unfazed by his actions.

I gave Dean a look, telling him to wait before he starts blindly shooting in a room full of vampires.

I could handle myself well, Dean knew as much.

“Don’t you tell me how to do my job.” he growled his hand squeezing a little tighter around my throat.

"Do your job then." I spat, pushing him a little further.

Eric then looked deeply in my orbs as his glazed over.

He spoke in an enchanting voice.

"Now you and your little gang of hunters are going to leave my bar, but before you go, you're going to let me taste you while your boyfriend over there watches me."

I knew what he was trying to do.

He was trying to what they call "glamor" me.

Get in my head.

Control me and my thoughts.

No man controls me.

"No offense Mr. Northman but you're not really my type." I managed to squeak out, his hand still squeezing my throat.

Eric quickly released my neck with a confused look.

"Why can't I glamor you?" He growled in frustration.

I quickly turned around, pulling my shirt up slightly so he could see the anti-possession tattoo in the center of my spine.

"Turns out this isn’t just for demons, works for your mind tricks too. Eric this is my final offer, let us help you or we're gonna handle things our way, and then you'll have a lot more bodies to dispose of. We’ll be in town, it’s your choice." I threatened before turning away from the vampire.

I could tell he didn't take kindly to my threats but he didn't retaliate surprisingly, given his nature.

I could see the relief wash over Dean's face as I returned to his side.

"Looks like we aren't getting his help, let's go." I said knowing full well Eric could still hear me.

Dean tucked his gun away roughly grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the bar.

I could tell by his face that he was trying his best not to explode.

He was irate.

As soon as we were in the impala the floodgates opened and all hell let loose.

"Wow you've done a lot of stupid shit in the past but that has to be the most fucked thing you've ever done, what the hell were you thinking?" Dean growled.

I wasn't sure if it was directed at Sam for suggesting I talk to Eric alone or me for actually doing it.

“Dean come on it’s…” Sam started but Dean quickly cut him off.

“Stay out of this Sam.” Dean growled.

I guess now I knew it was directed at me.

“You can’t be serious right now?” I scoffed at his behavior.

“He could have snapped you like a twig, you gave him every opportunity.” Dean snapped.

I knew this was his way of saying he was worried about me but l didn’t like how he was going about it.

“I can handle myself.” I said with an eye roll.

“I mean what was your plan exactly? Badmouth him until he sinks his fangs in to your neck? You had no plan going up there, that was so irresponsible.” Dean continued.

“Yeah well he didn’t hurt me did he?” I scoffed.

“Your lucky he didn’t, you just act without thinking about the consequences.” He retorted.

“Yeah well sometimes you think too much and don’t act.”

“At least you don’t have to continuously save my ass!” He growled.

“Ugh would you stop treating me like a child!” I said my voice rising along with my anger.

“I will when you stop acting like one!” Dean yelled.

I rolled my eyes again, sinking back in to the seat. I was done talking about this. It was no use anyways.

I knew Eric wouldn’t hurt me.

I don’t know how I knew, I just did. He wouldn’t admit it but he needed our help.

I was extremely thankful to be pulling in to the motel parking lot. I jumped out of the car before Dean could bring it to a complete stop, slamming the door in a fit.

I could hear Dean throwing open his door and quickly striding up to catch me.

“We are not done talking about this.” He growled grabbing my wrist.

“I am.” I seethed snatching my wrist from him.

I walked in to my separate motel room, slamming the door in his face.

God!

Dean didn’t usually yell at me, I had no idea where all this was coming from.

"Fuck!" I screamed, before quickly stripping my clothes wanting to wash away this evening and everything it brought.

I turned on the shower, steam instantly filling the bathroom.

I stepped in, the hot water relaxing my tense muscles.

What the hell was up with Dean?

Why was he acting so, so possessive?

He knew I was strong enough to handle my own, yet he was treating me as if I were some stupid kid walking in to the lions den unprepared.

I knew how to kill vampires, this wasn’t my first rodeo.

I was angrily scrubbing my body and hair, too caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t hear my motel room door opening, or the bathroom door for that matter.

I washed the shampoo from my hair before noticing Dean’s presence. It made me jump but only momentarily. He was standing on the other side of the shower curtain, his shoulders slumped over.

“I said I was done talking about it Dean.” I bit quickly.

I was expecting him to start yelling at me again, tell me how stupid I was being, but Dean didn’t say anything instead just stayed quiet.

"Dean?" I asked softening my tone.

Dean was never quiet.

Only when he was in his head about something.

Like I said we just got each other.

It was a moment before he spoke.

“You have no idea how worried I was for you, fuck y/n why do you care so little about your life when to me it’s everything?” Dean said, his voice being overtaken with emotion.

My breathing stilled at his words. I felt tears gather in the corners of my eyes.

Dean wasn’t the vulnerable type, never admitting how he was truly feeling, but here he was laying it all out.

Before thinking I flung open the shower curtain looking at him. His eyebrows were creased with worry and hurt.

I suddenly felt extremely guilty.

I didn’t want to hurt him.

That was the last thing I wanted to do.

Dean was my person.

I jumped out and flung my arms around him, soaking his t-shirt. He didn't seem to mind much as he wrapped his strong arms around me holding me tightly to his body.

I buried my head in the crook of his neck, allowing a few tears to cascade down my cheeks. His hand found its way to the back of my head stroking my wet hair.

“I’m sorry Dean.” I spoke quietly.

Dean’s hand traveled down to the back of my neck, pulling my head up so he could look in my eyes.

Dean and I didn't need words to convey our feelings.

Our eyes alone did just that.

I could feel the heat spreading to my core as his eyes devoured me hungrily.

Dean and I didn't cross this line often.

In fact only once before.

It was a dangerous line to be flirting with.

But in this moment, I didn't care.

Dean didn't either, for a moment later he was crashing his lips on mine.

His lips had a petal softness to them, but he kissed like a man that had been starved for months.

I balled his t-shirt in my fists pulling him impossibly closer. Dean's hand gripped my neck harder as if I was about to float away and he was the only thing holding me down.

I broke away but only briefly to suck in a harsh breath.

Dean pulled me back in again, devouring my lips.

He kissed me as if I was oxygen and he was dying to breathe.

I couldn't help the breathless moans that fell from my lips as I felt Dean's trapped erection on my already burning center.

I wanted more.

Needed more.

"Dean." I panted, hoping he would catch on.

Dean didn't bother teasing. He picked me up quickly kicking the bathroom door open, before gently placing me on the run down motel bed.

He was quick to dispose of his shirt.

I trailed my eyes down his body.

Dean was the kind of handsome that got into my bones, that spoke to me before he'd even said a word.

I licked my lips as I admired him.

I sat up on the bed, not being able to stop my self from placing my lips on his perfectly chiseled jaw. He let out a guttural sound as my tongue worked down to his neck, kissing and sucking, marking him as mine.

He quickly disposed of his jeans, freeing himself at last. He gently pushed me back down hovering his body over mine.

Dean looked at me as if he applied too much pressure I might break.

He trailed his hand down my body painfully slow, stopping to brush gently over my aching core. I sucked in my bottom lip to try to stop the needy whine that wished to escape but I was too late.

I needed to feel him, all of him.

Dean leaned down once again kissing my lips tenderly.

"I promise." Dean whispered pulling away gently.

I shook my head in confusion.

"Promise?" I breathed out.

"I promise to make up for all the years I was supposed to be kissing you." Dean rasped.

I felt my eyes prickle with tears.

I grabbed his head bringing his lips back to my own.

I don't think I'll ever get over the feeling I get when kissing Dean, it was warm, it was safe, it was everything I needed, because with Dean, sometimes kissing felt like healing.

Dean grabbed his erection, slowly rubbing his tip up and down my folds, torturing me with pleasure.

He grunted pushing himself through my slickness all without breaking our hungry kiss.

Dean thrusted at a tortuously slow pace, hitting my sweet spot with every movement. Dean buried his head into my neck, heavenly groans fell from his lips.

I moaned a little louder with each slow thrust.

I couldn't take anymore, I rolled my hips up meeting his.

Dean pushed himself even deeper, causing a sensual whine out of me.

"So pretty when you're whining for me."

I could barely think straight from the fire burning in my veins. I closed my eyes digging my nails slightly in to his skin.

“Oh fuck Dean right there.” I moaned feeling my orgasm making itself known.

I could feel myself clenching around him causing him to cry out in pleasure.

“Good girl baby, cum for me.” Dean whispered in a husky voice.

His tone and praise alone was enough to have me soaking his length, my walls contracting all around him.

Dean began to thrust harder and faster, chasing his own orgasm. When his rhythm became sloppy I knew he was close.

Dean gave one last deep thrust before I felt white hot spurts of liquid coating my still sensitive walls.

Just when I thought Dean couldn’t get more attractive, here he was looking like a god as he groaned, riding out his orgasm.

I could cum again just from the sight of it.

Dean slowly removed himself, satisfied when his seed spilled out coating my thighs.

"I think you're gonna need another shower." Dean smirked.

Yep.

Dean was back.

I was about to make my usual snarky comment but a loud knocking on the door got my attention.

I thought it might be Sam coming to check on me, he has been on the receiving end of Dean’s wrath more than once.

I threw on a shirt and some sleep shorts before peeling the door open slowly.

I was not prepared to see Eric Northman behind it.

"You know for hunters you really need to cover your tracks better, wasn't all that hard to track you down, not with that sweet aroma you carry around." Eric smirked pompously.

I could hear Dean shuffling as he rushed putting his clothes back on.

He was suddenly at my side ripping the door open and glaring down the viking vampire in front of me.

It was the first time I saw them toe to toe.

Eric was definitely taller but Dean was unfazed by his size.

Dean was nothing to mess with either. He was lethal in his own right, and had more blood on his hands then he liked to think about.

"Now if you're done fucking your play thing, I'd like to talk." Eric said completely ignoring Dean’s threatening demeanor.

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks.

Oh god he heard that?

Of course he did, fucking super hearing ability.

"I think that opportunity has passed, we're no longer interested." Dean growled slamming the door but Eric’s vampire speed won out and he caught it seamlessly.

"If you could do me a favor sweets and calm your guard dog here, I believe you and I can help each other." Eric said once again ignoring Dean completely.

"I thought you said you didn't need or want my help?" I finally spoke, feeling my anger rising again.

"Oh don't be smug, it's humbling enough having to come to a breather for help." Eric said rolling his eyes.

I could feel Dean stiffen beside me.

He didn't trust Eric that much was obvious.

I didn't trust him either.

I was realistic though, and I knew our odds would be better with him on our side instead of in our way.

"Hypothetically speaking of course, let's say I was still interested in helping you, what then?" I inquired.

Dean growled from beside me.

“Excuse us for a moment." Dean said through clenched teeth, shutting the door, this time Eric allowing him to.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath preparing his lecture but I quickly cut him off before he could deliver it.

"Look before you yell, let's be realistic here, I think we're in way over our heads and having Eric on our side instead of in our way is an asset, even if I don't trust him, keep your enemies closer right?"

Dean's eyebrows furrowed knowing he couldn't argue with my logic.

"You were mad before because I didn't have plan, this time I do." I promised.

Dean placed a gentle hand to my cheek pulling my lips to his.

He knew Eric would be listening behind the door.

He wanted to make it known I was his.

I would definitely have to unpack this situation later.

Dean removed his lips resting his forehead on mine.

"Fine we can talk." Dean reluctantly agreed.

I gave him a small smile as I opened the door, seeing Eric standing there looking completely uninterested in Dean's show of affection.

"So then let's talk." I said nodding my head at Eric.

"Just you, no offense but I don’t think your guard dog will fit in with where we’re going, also you might want to shower first, if you’re going to be with me I can’t have you smelling of another man, and one more tip try not to look so much like a hunter, I’ll be back in thirty.” Eric ordered before speeding away.

“Fuck this, no way in hell am I letting you go anywhere alone with him.” Dean said.

“The idea doesn’t thrill me either but I’m just going to need you to trust me.” I said quickly going towards the bathroom.

Dean didn’t say anything instead followed behind me sulking. He shed his clothes stepping in the shower after me.

He huffed pouting as he took his hand washing his seed away from my body. I moaned as his fingers dipped in my folds cleansing me.

“I can trust you if you promise me you won’t do anything reckless, I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt and I wasn’t there to help.” Dean said.

I quickly turned around facing him.

“I promise you Dean, nothing reckless.” I said standing on my toes to place a soft kiss to his mouth.

I finished washing myself quickly, then stepped out and towel dried myself.

I looked in my suitcase trying to find clothes that didn’t scream hunter. I settled for a sundress, this made me look more innocent, more naive.

Exactly thirty minutes later on the dot their was another harsh knock at the door. I took a deep breath opening it. Eric stood smirking behind it, clearly trying to provoke Dean. He let his eyes drift up and down my form very noticeably.

“If I didn’t know any better I would say you almost look normal.” Eric joked, that ever present cocky smile still on his face.

Dean wrapped a protective arm around me.

“I swear if you fucking hurt her..” Dean started but Eric cut him off.

“Down boy, she’ll be fine, besides I already ate this evening, though I wouldn’t say no to some dessert.” Eric taunted him.

I rolled my eyes at the pair.

I quickly turned around grabbing Deans shirt bringing him in for a feverish kiss.

Dean smirked in to the kiss hearing Eric sigh in annoyance.

I pulled away letting a hand linger on his cheek.

“I’ll be back.” I assured.

I turned towards Eric ignoring the arm he offered me.

“Well after you.” I gestured.

I saw the the expensive bugatti now parked outside my motel room.

A little over the top I thought, although I guess when you’ve been alive for so long your wealth is vast.

Eric smirked at Dean as he opened the passenger door gesturing for me to get in.

I gave Dean one more soft look before climbing in.

Eric zipped around clambering in the drivers seat. He peeled out of the motel at inhuman speed, making me grip the seat.

“So are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I asked annoyed.

“A tribunal meeting.” Eric simply answered.

“A what?”

“You people really don’t know anything do you?” He jabbed.

“Look if that’s how this is going to be you can just take me back.” I said rolling my eyes.

“You know your cute when you pout.” Eric laughed.

I rolled my eyes again ignoring his flirtatious comment. He was trying to get under my skin, and he was doing a damn good job at it.

“Listen just stay close to me, and don’t talk to anyone but me.” Eric said glancing at me.

“Eric..”

“No this is serious okay, for me to keep you safe you have to listen to me.” He said.

I glanced at his eyes, and for a moment just a moment I saw some of what I believed to be sincerity. It made him almost seem…. human.

“Fine.” I grumbled.

He pulled in to a field in the middle of nowhere.

I really wasn’t thrilled with this idea now.

I took a deep breath feeling the silver dagger Dean slipped in to the waistband of my underwear. It wasn’t much but it could help me out, give me some leverage.

Eric got out zipping around to open my door.

I got out of the car looking fully at the scene.

There were a few other vampires there, most looked pretty ancient. It wasn’t their looks per say, but their demeanor, the way they carried themselves.

I saw a few humans too, one vampire was openly feeding on a girls neck. If I had eaten I was sure it would come back up at the sight. The worst part is the girl moaned as if she was enjoying it.

Eric smirked as he wrapped an arm around my waist leading me towards the group of vampires.

"Remember what I said, be a good breather and keep quiet." Eric said.

"Fuck you." I cursed under my breath knowing full well Eric would hear me.

Eric's presence instantly got the attention of a man dressed in an expensive suit.

"Eric welcome, and who is this lovely thing you've brought with you, she smells delectable."

"Easy now magister, she's mine." Eric said.

His?

Oh hell no!

"Yours the fu.." I started but Eric quickly clamped his hand on my mouth.

"My apologies sir, quite the mouth she got on her, though it does come in handy." Eric joked.

I nipped at his hand covering my mouth as if telling him he was really pushing it.

"If you'll excuse us sir.." Eric said leading me away from the man.

As soon as he took his hand off my mouth, I raised my hand to strike him but he quickly caught it.

"Yours? What the fuck was that!? I am not now, nor will I ever be yours!" I growled.

"It's my way of protecting you, it's an unspoken rule for vampires that we can't harm or feed from another vampires claimed human, now that I openly claimed you, nobody can touch you or they have to deal with me."

I was still pissed at him but I shook my head in understanding.

"These guys, they're the authority?"

"Well sort of, we work for them, that guy was the magister, the judge of my kind, if you will. The others are area sheriffs like myself, we keep order in our area, and we're all here to talk about our little problem." Eric explained.

"And the humans are privileged to this information?" I questioned.

"No, you’re here to satiate us, but it doesn't matter what they hear they'll just be glamoured to forget, but since you can't be glamoured you better be good at acting." Eric said.

I nodded my head finally understanding.

I would be the only human to remember this meeting.

He was giving me information, leverage.

Eric was about to say something else when the magister cleared his throat getting the attention of all vampires present.

"Now stay close to me, and for fuck's sake act like you can stand to be near me." Eric whispered once again wrapping a cold arm around my waist.

I knew if Dean were here right now he'd be furious at Eric for even daring to touch me in such an intimate matter.

In fact Dean would probably kill him first and ask questions later.

Eric was right, Dean definitely wouldn't have fit in here.

I didn't fit in here.

I grumbled, leaning in to Eric's side, cozying up to him.

I had to pretend.

It might kill me.

But I had to pretend.

I could feel Eric's stupid smirk without seeing it.

"Stop enjoying this." I growled causing a chuckle to fall from his lips.

"Sheriffs, it's great to see you, unfortunately I wish it could be under better circumstances. You all have been gathered here because as you know your state has managed to gain the attention of the authority, and I can tell you they aren't happy. You were put in a position to keep order, lay low, push the movement along, so please someone tell me why it's a goddamn circus out here?" The guy who I now know as the magister yelled.

I could feel Eric tense beside me, his arm getting a little tighter around me.

I could tell the magister was in a significant position of power even without Eric telling me so.

"Sir it's the newborns, they're insatiable, unsupervised." One vamp spoke up.

"And who's fault is that, isn't it your job to handle problem vampires?"

"You wish us to kill our own’s progeny's?" Another quipped.

"Do you dare defy my order?" The magister threatened.

"No sir."

I was taking in all the new information.

It seemed that new vampires were being made, "progeny's" and being left unsupervised after their creation.

It was not only reckless, it was cruel.

"Well maybe the humans have it coming, all they've ever done is hunt us down and lynch us." A vampire beside us spoke.

I glance at him.

He was tall, not as tall as Eric but tall none the less.

He clearly thought he was holier then thou.

I guess he hadn’t come face to face with hunters yet.

"I mean we do kind of deserve it." Eric spoke, surprising me a great deal.

I didn't think he was capable of any compassion towards what he calls “breathers.”

"Wow I can't believe my ears, Eric Northman, the ruthless viking prince suddenly gets himself a human bitch and now he's mr. mainstream?" The vampire spoke turning and taking a step towards us.

Eric let out a warning growl.

"I would watch your next words sheriff, I’m not known for my patience." Eric said baring his fangs.

His hold on me got tighter, if that were possible, I was already trapped against his body as it was.

I could feel the tensions rising as both vampires hissed at each other.

I took my hand squeezing Eric's.

I was surprised when I felt him calm slightly.

It was a simple gesture that always worked for Dean, and seemingly Eric too.

It was a little way of wordlessly saying “I’m here, I got you.”

"ENOUGH both of you! Eric’s right, we all knew coming out of the coffin there would be risks involved, if you can't keep order the authority will come and eradicate your regions."

Eradicate?

As in kill them all?

I was all for killing vampires, but that seems a little excessive.

I worried for Eric.

Wait.

What the fuck am I saying?

I don't worry about vampires.

Vampires are nothing but killing machines.

They don’t have feelings.

Or do they?

I don’t know what I believed anymore in this moment.

"With all due respect magister this is complete bullshit." the previous vampire spoke again.

I could see the magister getting visibly angry.

"We are apex predators, the top of the food chain, and you expect us to just lay down and take it from a bunch of blood bags?" He continued.

I could feel myself getting heated at his words.

He was the epitome of the vampires we killed.

No regard for human life whatsoever.

"We don’t take it, we learn to control ourselves there’s a difference." The magister corrects.

He was all about pushing the mainstreaming movement along, that much was clear, but he could care less about humans as long as all killings and feedings were done in secrecy and done so as not to draw too much attention.

He was just another two faced authoritarian, pushing something he could care less about.

"You and the authority are out of your goddamn minds if you think..." He started.

In an instant the magister zipped over to him, producing a wooden stake before driving it straight through the vampires heart. The vampire exploded sending guts flying everywhere.

Eric quickly turned us around so I wasn’t hit by the debris but he was.

I let out a shaking breath as blood splattered the side of his face.

I didn’t think I would be getting this close to vampire politics tonight.

I was officially over it.

Eric looked in my eyes as if assuring me everything was alright.

The magister wiped some vampire guts from his suit before turning back to everyone.

“I think we’ve all learned our lesson yes?”

No one dared to speak so the magister continued.

“You,” he said pointing at one vampire, “clean up this mess’ and you,” he said now turning to Eric who was cleaning the blood from his face, “glamor your human and then come with me.”

Eric turned to me giving me a look, guess now it was time to put on an act.

How does one even act glamoured? A mindless zombie I guessed.

He stared at me with that glazed look in his eyes, the same one from the bar. He also had something else in there, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was; mischief maybe?

Next came his enchanting voice.

“y/n.”

“Yes.” I spoke quietly as if I was under his spell.

“Nothing happened here tonight, you don’t remember any other vampires being here, you don’t remember anything that was said, do you understand?” Eric ordered.

“Nothing happened here.” I repeated.

“Good…” Eric smirked pompously. “Now kiss me and wait in the car like the good little breather you are.”

I felt my insides boiling.

What the hell was he doing?

He knew I couldn’t say no to him.

It was either that or blow my cover to the magister.

I trusted my skills but not enough to take out an ancient vampire with a simple silver dagger, not while so many others were around.

I realized I was already taking too much time to think. If I didn’t act soon it was over, I was made.

I glared at Eric with furious eyes before leaning in.

He grabbed the back of my neck joining our lips.

I kissed him back with much reserve but he didn’t seem to notice.

He however kissed me gently to my surprise.

In fact he was kind of good at kissing.

What the fuck?

Shut up brain!

This was a vampire for fucks sake!

I willed the moment to be over but Eric was taking his sweet time tasting my mouth.

As we were kissing I tasted something metallic on my tongue.

I knew that taste.

Blood.

I swear if he bit me, I don’t care who’s watching I’ll kill him.

I was confused when Eric pulled away and it wasn’t my lip that was bleeding but his own.

It was his blood?

I quickly turned around walking back to his car as instructed.

I was trying to soak in all the information.

At least now we knew what we were up against.

A bunch of unsupervised baby vamps.

Great.

Eric came back moments later getting in the car. I held my breath until we were far enough away from the field before speaking my thoughts.

“I don’t understand, why are there unsupervised baby vampires allowed to run amok, they need to be taught, isn’t that a little cruel, illegal?”

“It’s unfortunate not every vampire has such a responsible maker.” Eric answered.

“And your maker?” I wondered.

I heard the vampire call Eric a viking prince, I wondered just how he came to be what he was now.

He hesitated a moment before he spoke.

“Godric, he’s gone, he saved me from dying on a battlefield.”

I scoffed a little catching his attention but kept my comment to myself, further annoying Eric.

“Go ahead, say what you want to say.” Eric pushed.

“I don’t know how he saved you, making you crave blood to survive, making you a slave to the night, making you practically immortal, I mean that has to be really lonely, eventually everyone you know will be gone and then it’ll just be you.” I said glancing at him.

“It’s a good thing I don’t care for mortals then.”

“I don’t believe that.” I quipped.

“And I don’t believe you actually hate vampires, I saw how you reacted when the magister spoke of the authority eradicating our regions.” Eric pushed back.

“About that, can they actually do that?” I asked.

If vampires had enough power to eradicate entire regions I think we had bigger problems to worry about then a bunch of baby vamps.

“Yes, they can and they will if the problem isn’t solved.” Eric said slowly pulling back in the motel parking lot.

“So what do we do about it so that doesn’t happen?” I asked turning my body towards him.

“We?”

“Just shut up, and tell me!” I said rolling my eyes at him again.

“I guess the only thing we can do, go on a hunting trip. If we can’t control them we have to eradicate them.” Eric said.

“Alright we’ll be ready then.”

“You and your dog can meet me at fangtasia tomorrow night, sunset, we’ll formulate a plan from there.” Eric nodded.

“Sunset.” I confirmed turning to get out of the car.

“Oh Eric, one more thing.” I said turning back around.

Before he could realize what was happening I balled my fist, sending it flying in to his nose. I heard a satisfying crunch as it connected.

“ If you ever trick me into kissing you again, I’ll kill you myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I smirked getting out of the car.

“You broke my nose!” Eric yelled out the window.

“Eh your a vampire, you’ll heal.” I shrugged, glancing once more at him.

“I know I’m a vampire but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.” He growled pushing his nose back in to position.

“Goodnight Eric.” I called one final time.

Eric rolled his eyes before peeling out of the parking lot, the sound getting Dean’s attention. He flung open the door pulling me to his chest. He inspected my body for any signs of injury but found none.

“Dean it’s okay, I’m okay.” I said placing a hand on his cheek.

I took him inside telling him everything that happened.

Well almost everything.

I left out the kissing part.

It would just further cause problems between the two, and besides I handled it.

He groaned when I told him we’d be seeing Eric tomorrow night.

He didn’t want to work with him but he agreed with me, that if we didn’t take care of this little problem we’d have a much bigger problem on our hands, i.e. an authority of ancient vampires that could eradicate entire populations.

“It’s nearly dawn, we should get some sleep.” Dean said stroking a hand through my hair.

I looked at Dean’s face, he had a slight crease in his forehead that only showed up when he was worrying about something.

“Dean what is it?” I asked.

“Who’s to say we don’t help him and then he turns right around and tries to kills us? I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.” Dean says sincerely.

“I know your worried but I don’t think he’ll try anything, he needs our help, besides he had every opportunity to kill me tonight, but he didn’t. Instead he gave us some pretty valuable information, which I’m suspecting he could get staked for if someone found out.” I said my mind traveling to the blonde haired vampire.

I had no idea why he was on my mind right now.

“Are you concerned for him?” Dean asked a look of jealousy and disgust on his face.

When I didn’t answer immediately, Dean continued.

“He’s a killer y/n, a leech, you can’t seriously be worrying about him?” Dean growled.

“I’m not.” I told a half lie.

“What is it then?” Dean pushed.

“It’s just everything might not be as black and white as we think that’s all.” I said trying to carefully chose my words.

“I mean they drink human blood to survive how is there any grey area in that?” Dean retorted.

“Some of them didn’t ask for this life, you know they thought they were being saved..” I trailed off thinking of the story Eric told me of his creation.

“It doesn’t change what they are.” Dean said.

I shrugged my shoulders. I guess he was right. At the end of the day they would still be feeding on humans to survive.

We were prey to them.

“I think we should get some sleep.” I said leaning up and pecking his lips quickly.

Dean was not satisfied with how we ended things but he didn’t push further to which I was thankful. Instead he pulled me in closer so my head was laying on his chest.

I felt the exhaustion starting to take a toll on my body, and the darkness starting to envelop me.

I reached my hand up to touch Dean but was surprised to feel the space empty.

Suddenly fingers were hooked in to my sleep shorts pulling them slowly down my legs. I groaned as lips kissed tenderly up my thigh, making my core burn with pleasure. I cast my eyes downward, meeting a pair of green ones.

“Dean.” I moaned as his head dipped down, his breath fanning over my center.

I didn’t know how Dean slipped down there without me noticing but right now I didn’t care.

Instead of devouring me like I wanted, his lips trailed back down to my thigh.

I could feel my blood pumping with need and desire.

“Beg me for it.” Dean commanded.

Didn’t need to tell me twice.

“Oh god please Dean.” I begged running my hands through his hair.

Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my thigh.

I gasped looking down but instead of Dean, Eric was there with extended fangs, licking blood off his lips

What the fuck is going on?

Am I dreaming?

I’ve got to be dreaming.

A million questions surged through my head.

How?

When?

Why?

“Eric?” I blushed trying to hide my body from him.

“The femoral artery, like the jugular if pierced wrong can cause you to bleed out in mere minutes.” Eric said licking my thigh.

I looked down realizing blood was seeping out from too little pin pricks. I could feel my heart start to race but it wasn’t from fear… rather excitement.

What was wrong with me?

Was I turned on by this?

“It is indeed the best place to draw blood, so pleasurable and not just for me.” Eric said dipping his head back down, sinking his fangs in to my thigh.

I threw my head back with a moan as Eric drank my blood. His long fingers trailed up my thigh, dipping in to my folds that were already slick with arousal.

Oh god this was so wrong.

But it felt so good I didn’t want to stop.

But Dean?

Fuck!

As I was about to push Eric away, I felt lips against my neck, a hand trailing down my shirt to play with my hardened nipples.

I sat up a little seeing Dean now behind me.

Okay now I know I am in fact dreaming. These two can’t even be in the same room together, let alone take turns pleasuring me.

Eric removed his fangs and started to devour my core, his tongue working expertly up and down my folds.

“Oh god.” I moaned, biting my lip.

Dean trailed his fingers down further and started rubbing circles on my bundle of nerves, making my body writhe with pleasure.

“Mmm such a good girl, wouldn’t you agree Eric?” Dean whispered with a husky tone that made my legs shake.

"Mmm, the best girl.” Eric said removing his mouth from my folds momentarily before diving back in.

I felt the coil in my stomach winding tighter and tighter, begging to spring free. The sensation of Eric devouring me with his mouth while Dean worked me with his fingers was too much to bare. I was so close and then….

I sprang up, gasping for air.

The room was still dark, however sunlight started filtering through the curtains.

I guessed it was just after sunrise.

I looked to my left seeing Dean sound asleep. Eric was nowhere to be found.

“Of course not dummy, he’s dead during the day” my brain screamed at me.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead trying to calm my racing heart.

Why in the fuck would I dream of Eric pleasuring me?

Dean makes sense but Eric?

Eric?

A thousand year old vampire?

What the fuck was wrong with me!?

The worst part is he bit me, he bit me and I enjoyed it.

I deduced I was in need of some serious therapy and counseling.

I took a few deep breaths before laying back down next to Dean. I tossed and turned for what felt like hours before finally succumbing to pure exhaustion.

I woke up to a hand running through my hair. I was hesitant to open my eyes, my dream still at the forefront of my mind.

I was relieved when all I saw was Dean.

“It’s almost sunset.” Dean said placing a soft kiss to my forehead.

I groaned in response causing Dean to laugh.

“I’m not looking forward to this either.” Dean said getting out of the bed and heading towards the bathroom.

I sat up stretching my limbs. I was dreading having to face Eric after the impure dream I had about him.

I was still struggling to understand why I was dreaming about him in that way. I mean sure he was attractive, but he was a monster and I was the one who hunted him.

I didn’t realize how long I sat there in my head until Dean was coming out of the bathroom freshly showered.

I quickly collected myself so I didn't look like a mess.

Dean could NOT find out about this.

I rushed in to the bathroom turning on the cold water. I splashed my face a couple times trying to calm my shaking hands.

Fuck.

Get it together.

I stepped out getting dressed for the night. Dean was already ready to go, reloading uv bullets in both guns.

“Sam?” I asked lacing my boots.

“He’s keeping the police off our backs for now, he’ll meet up with us later.” Dean said tossing me my weapon.

I grabbed some colloidal sliver as well as a couple silver daggers.

“Alright, let’s do this.” I sighed.

Dean grabbed my hand pulling me to his chest.

“If shit goes down, you get out, and I’ll come find you.” Dean said placing a gentle hand on my cheek.

“You and I both know that isn’t happening, we’re in this together, until the end.” I said looking deeply in his eyes.

Dean leaned down capturing my lips in a passionate kiss.

I wished desperately we could just stay in this moment but that was a fairytale and our lives were anything but. It was more like a constant nightmare if you asked me.

Dean pulled away giving me a silent nod.

It didn’t take us long until we were sat in the fangtasia parking lot.

“If he tries anything, I will kill him.” Dean said pulling the safety off his gun.

“I know you will, you’ve only been chomping at the bullet to since we’ve met him.” I said mimicking his actions.

Dean shrugged knowing I wasn’t wrong. I saw the blonde lady from before opening the door. I guess that was our invitation to go in. I tucked away my gun, climbing out of the impala.

“Oh great they’re back.” The blonde lady spat sarcastically.

“It’s nice to see you again too.” I bit back.

“Pam, play nice now, these humans are here to help us.”

I gulped as soon as I heard his voice.

My mind flooded with the images of him tucked between my legs, my blood dripping off his fangs.

Dean must’ve noticed my unease. He put a hand on the small of my back giving me a reassuring pat.

I pushed past the blonde lady, Pam I now knew was her name, and I walked in to the empty bar. It sure looked a lot different with the lights on. Eric once again was sitting on his ridiculous throne. He smirked at me as soon as our eyes connected.

Dean was quick to catch up with me.

He stood so his shoulder was slightly blocking me from Eric.

“So what’s the plan?” Dean growled.

“Oh no formal introductions, straight to the point huh.” Eric taunted looking at me.

“Eric please, save the jokes, let’s get this over with.” I sighed.

“I for one had a great time last night.” Eric smirked.

I glared at him, silently telling him to shut up.

Dean didn't know about the kiss, and if he found out now, he'd kill Eric and then maybe me.

“Well except for that little part where you broke my nose.” He said.

As he said this the blonde lady flashed her fangs at me. Dean immediately shifted pulling his gun and aiming it at Pam.

“Pam stand down.” Eric commanded.

Pam was protective of him, that was abundantly clear.

I was starting to put the pieces together.

Pam was his progeny.

He created her just as Godric created him.

Dean slowly lowered his gun once there was no threat to me anymore. He gave me a incredulous look as I hadn’t told him that part of the story.

“It looks to me you healed just fine, now please let’s get on with it.” I sassed him.

“As you wish, follow me.” Eric said standing from the throne.

“Where?” Dean quickly ordered.

“What you don’t trust me?” Eric taunted him.

“I don’t trust bloodsuckers no.” Dean retorted.

“Ha, I could snap you in half in just a matter of seconds” Eric threatened.

“I’d really like to see you try, give me a reason to fry you.” Dean growled cocking his gun.

Ugh these two were incorrigible.

“Ok enough of the dick swinging contest are we doing this or not?” I asked rolling my eyes at the men.

I could see Pam for once in agreement with me.

I gestured for Eric to show us what he wanted to. He walked down a hallway leading us to a stairwell.

“Is this your dungeon or something?” I joked.

“Yes.” Eric answered seriously.

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.

“You first.” Dean growled not trusting Eric to go behind him.

“Guests first, I insist.” Eric said opening the door.

“Seriously?” I groaned, pushing past both men, and starting to walk down the steps.

I heard footsteps following behind me, they weren’t heavy like Dean’s so I knew they were Eric’s. He was close behind me.

I felt a chill run down my spine the closer he got.

“So, tell me y/n have any good dreams lately?” Eric whispered in my ear.

I about lost my footing, as my face went pale.

He knew?

How the fuck did he know that?

I quickly pulled myself together, I wouldn’t let him get under my skin.

“Yes in fact, Dean was in all of them.” I bit back.

“I bet he was.” Eric smirked.

I could hear some low growling sounds as we got to the bottom of the stairs.

He wasn’t kidding it really was a dungeon down here.

I felt Dean once again at my side.

Eric disappeared for a moment pulling a lever.

I heard the growling get louder, a vampire descended from the ceiling suspended by silver chains.

He thrashed around trying to break free, the silver burning his skin as he did so.

“I found this one feeding on a human right outside my bar, he’s new, not yet a month old.” Eric said.

“A newborn, I’m guessing his maker is nowhere to be found.” I said eyeing up the vamp.

He looked weak, I would guess he’d been down here for a few days, starved of blood.”

“Oh on the contraire, his maker is very much around, in fact he’s responsible for the surge of newborns, that’s where we need to go.” Eric said.

“How do you know that?” I asked him.

“We’ve been spending a lot of quality time together lately.” Eric joked.

“Where’s his maker?” Dean asked.

“Only thing I can’t get out of him. What do you think she’s for?” Eric asked nodding at me.

Dean was quick to put an arm out in front of me.

Before Dean could protest Eric spoke.

“Tell me guard dog do you know her blood type?” Eric asked Dean.

“AB Negative.” Dean answered quickly.

I was a little shocked that he knew that, but I guess I had to be given blood a time or two since we started hunting.

“Yes, the rarest of all blood types, a delicious treat for a vampire, a treat that is very very hard to resist.” Eric answered.

Oh great so basically I was crack for vampires.

“I’m not giving any of my blood.” I growled.

“Oh you won’t have to.” Eric said stepping closer to me. “Just your scent alone will drive him mad.” Eric added inhaling.

“Fine.” I said rolling my eyes.

“If it even moves an inch, I’m shooting.” Dean says taking aim at the newborn vampire.

I took a few steps closer to the still thrashing vampire.

Eric was right, as soon as I was within distance, his fangs popped, his neck craned to hiss at me.

“I don’t think you want to do that.” I warned.

He hissed again in response.

“See that gun, it’s loaded with uv administering bullets, it’ll feel like the sun is invading every part of your body, it will be a most unpleasant sensation.” I explained.

Dean aimed the gun a little higher, waiting for the vampire to make a wrong move.

“Don’t make him have to use it, all you have to do is tell us where your maker resides, and all this can go away.”

“Fuck all of you.” The vampire spat.

“Why are you protecting him?” I asked circling him.

“He’s my master.” He answered.

“Well he clearly doesn’t care about you, he left you to fend for yourself.” I pushed.

“He released you?” Eric questioned coming closer to me.

“Yes.” The vampire answered.

“You are no longer his problem then.” Eric said.

“You have no loyalty to him.” I added.

“Shut up all of you please.” The vampire cried out.

Eric and I were trying to break him down, and it was working.

“He wouldn’t care if we killed you right here right now, in fact he wouldn’t even think twice about it.” Eric pushed farther.

“In fact he’ll probably just make another to take your place, it’ll be like you never existed.” I said.

“I think we’ll go ahead and do just that.” Eric said popping out his fangs.

“Alright stop, please I’ll tell you, just don’t kill me”.

Eric gave me a satisfied look before going in the newborn’s face.

“Where is he?” Eric growled.

“He’s got a whole nest next to the old cemetery, he’s stashing humans there to feed us. Please now let me go, I did what you wanted.” He begged.

“You’ve been a great help.” Eric said putting his hand through the newborns chest producing his heart.

I could see betrayal flash on the newborns features as blood seeped from his mouth.

I turned away as Eric crushed his heart in his hand, causing the newborn to explode in to pieces.

“Was that necessary?” I asked kicking a chunk of vampire guts away from me.

“Yes, he broke the law so he must suffer the true death. It was either this or let your boyfriend fry him from the inside, I gave him a quick way out.” Eric said.

I took a deep breath, I needed to get out of here, the smell of vampire guts was starting to make me sick. I ran up the stairs, hearing both men trailing behind me.

“You mortals have such weak stomach’s.” Eric said going behind the bar.

He quickly produced a glass of water for me. I took it gratefully, choosing to ignore his comment.

“I need to go call Sam.” Dean said.

“I’ll be fine, go ahead.” I nodded.

“It’s not you I don’t trust.” Dean said glaring at Eric.

“If I wanted to kill either of you I would’ve done it by now.” Eric shrugs.

“Yeah well I’m still debating about killing you.” Dean said.

“For once we agree on something.” Eric retorted.

“For the love of god both of you stop acting like children!” I said slamming my hand down on the bar top.

I walked to the other side of the bar taking a seat in an empty booth. I was tired of the back and forth. Dean gave me a apologetic look before stepping out to call Sam.

I rolled my eyes as Eric joined me in the booth.

“What do you want now?” I groaned.

“Quite a temper he’s got on him.” Eric said.

“I can see you got your own guard dog.” I said nodding my head towards Pam who looked like she wanted to rip my head off for even daring to breathe the same air as her maker.

“Yes Pam, she’s my..” He started.

“Your progeny.” I cut him off.

“How did you know that?”

“I’m not completely dim Eric, I put the pieces together. I saw how you looked when talking about your maker, it’s the same way Pam looks at you.” I shrugged.

“Jealous?” Eric smirked.

“Did you save her too?” I asked ignoring his comment.

“Yes in fact I did. I didn’t set out to create Pam, but if I didn’t turn her she was going to die, and Pam had a hard life, I thought she deserved a little good.” Eric spoke tenderly.

“I guess you didn’t leave her at least.” I said.

“I never would, I made her this way, it’s my responsibility to look out for her, teach her, just as Godric did me.” Eric said.

“Hmm so you can insightful, good to know.” I said offering him a nod.

“You never answered my question earlier, any good dreams lately?” Eric smirked.

I rolled my eyes at his teasing.

“I guess you’ll never know.” I shrugged.

“I have a feeling your boyfriend doesn’t know either.” Eric pushed.

“Okay I’m debating on killing you now.” I said annoyed.

“It’s okay if you did dream of me, I mean it is a side effect of taking my blood after all.” Eric said nonchalantly leaning back in the seat.

I spit out the water I was drinking as the words left his lips.

“Wait what?”

I don’t remember taking his blood.

I remembered then the kiss, when I pulled away Eric had blood on his lip.

“You see when we kissed, I accidentally cut my lip on my fang and you drank some of my blood. It was what allowed you to break my nose, it gave you a boost of strength. Unfortunately it does come with a few side effects.” Eric explained.

Accidentally?

I somehow didn’t believe that.

“You mean when you forced me to kiss you.” I growled.

“Ah yes forgot about that little detail.”

“Yeah what else did you forget to tell me?” I asked balling my fists.

“You see now that you have my blood inside you, I’ll be able to locate you quickly, and I can feel the things you feel. In return your innately more attracted to me, dreaming of me. You and I are bonded now.” Eric explained.

I suddenly felt very violated.

“I didn’t want that, I didn’t want any of this.” I bit.

Eric chuckled and leaned in close.

“Oh come on you’re not fooling anyone.” He whispered.

I could feel my heartbeat uptick just from his proximity to me. I couldn’t control it, it was as if it completely shut my brain out and was thinking on its own.

“I don’t want anything to do with you, in fact I can’t wait for this whole thing to be over so I never have to see you again.” I growled.

“I think you’re forgetting I feel what you feel, I know that’s a lie.” Eric said sliding a little closer.

“It’s not.” I defended.

“I know you want me.” Eric said placing one of his large hands on my thigh.

I sucked in a sharp breath trying to calm myself.

“You want me just as much as I want you.” Eric added trailing his hand upwards.

I quickly jumped up causing his hand to fall.

“Sorry you’re dead wrong I love Dean.” I growled walking away from him.

I was relieved when Dean came back. I quickly walked over to him wrapping my arms around him. He was surprised for a minute but hugged me back.

I can’t believe I admitted my love for Dean, to Eric of all people.

I seriously needed some therapy now.

“Sam’s going to meet us there.” Dean said.

I nodded my head.

“Let us get a few things and we’ll meet you there.” I nodded to Eric. 

“No chance, I’m coming with you. I don’t trust you mortals either.” Eric said grabbing his jacket.

I guess that was fair.

“Eric, I’m coming with you.” Pam spoke.

“No Pam, I need you to stay here and handle opening. I’ll be fine don’t worry about me.” Eric said walking over to her and placing a kiss on her forehead.

Pam gave me a look, one that said if he gets hurt you’re dead.

I gave her a silent nod that it would be fine. I wouldn’t let Dean kill him.

I might still kill him, but Dean won’t.

Eric followed us back to the impala.

I opened the trunk where we stored all our weapons, or most of them at least. I grabbed a silencer putting it on the end of my pistol, the last thing we needed was to attract more attention.

I grabbed some silver chains as well as some silver bullets in case we ran out of the uv ones. I grabbed a wooden stake, before turning back around.

“Really?” Eric asked rolling his eyes.

“I would stay out of the crossfire if I was you.” I threatened.

Dean smirked as he shut the trunk.

Eric zipped to the old cemetery while Dean and I drove. I could see headlights at the entrance belonging to Sam.

It was eerily quiet.

Eric led the way as Sam, Dean and I aimed our guns, taking in our surroundings.

We walked a few steps seeing and hearing nothing.

“I don’t think anyone’s here.” Sam said.

Of course as he said that, a newborn came out of the dark and lunged towards my neck.

Eric was faster and caught the newborn by the neck while Dean shot a bullet through it’s chest. It immediately sank to the ground in agonizing pain as the uv bullet pulsed in its chest.

As if on queue we were surrounded by insatiable newborns, all looking for one thing, our blood.

I took a deep breath.

“Dog, keep her close, her smell will drive them mad.” Eric said pushing me closer to Dean.

Dean gave Eric an almost silent thank you.

It was as if they were suddenly given a silent command to attack, the newborns rushed towards us fangs bared. I fired multiple rounds finding a different target each time.

I could feel my ears ringing from the gunshots as well as the wailing of newborns who were being fried by the uv bullets.

I stumbled crashing in to Eric.

He caught me quickly standing me up on my feet.

I ran out of bullets shortly after, having to resort to the stake and silver daggers. I was wrestling with a particularly strong vampire, my silver dagger doing little to deter it’s advances. I lost my footing falling to the ground with the vampire. I held an arm to it’s throat keeping it’s fangs away from my face.

It was getting harder and harder to hold it back. I suddenly felt blood splatter on my face as a wooden stake stuck out of the vampires chest.

“Oh fuck.” I heard the vampire groan before exploding.

Dean quickly picked me up brushing me off.

“Dean watch out.” I called.

A vampire was approaching him quickly.

But this one wasn’t a newborn.

It moved far better, it was more experienced.

It was the maker we had been looking for.

And it was coming straight for Dean.

I didn’t know what I was doing until I was already moving.

I quickly shoved Dean out of harm’s way.

 I felt a hand go around my neck and teeth sink in to my flesh.. and then I felt nothing.

Dean

“Dean watch out.” I heard her voice call.

Before I had time to react I was being shoved to the side. I looked up to see a vampire grab her by the neck and sink his teeth in to her throat.

“No!” I screamed, grabbing my gun and firing six or seven silver bullets in to it’s chest.

Eric noticed the commotion and ran up behind the vampire pulling it’s heart out ultimately ending it.

I quickly ran over as y/n slumped to the ground, her hand going up to try and cauterize her wound. I quickly replaced her hand with my own, putting as much pressure as I could to stop the bleeding. I felt the tears already welling up in my eyes as the blood gushed from her neck despite the pressure I applied.

“Dean.” I heard her gasp, her eyes filling with tears.

I was soon joined by Sam.

“Dean, her jugular is severed, what do we do.” Sam panicked.

I didn’t know what to do.

She was losing too much blood too fast.

I let out a sob running my other hand down her cheek.

“It’s okay baby don’t worry, you’re going to be okay.” I sobbed kissing her forehead.

“Dean it’s okay I’m not afraid.”

How could she say it’s okay.

Nothing is okay!

“It’s not okay, please just hang on.” I cried.

“Dean, I’m in the arms of my first love, I’m with the only man I’ve ever loved, I’m okay.” I could hear her choke barely getting it out.

She loved me?

It was the words I had been longing to hear for years, but not now.

“I love you too, I love you so much which is why you can’t leave me.” I begged.

I looked over seeing Sam now crying too.

I looked back to her face, noticing it go paler and paler.

My hand was doing little to stop the massive blood loss.

Her eyes slowly fluttered shut as she lost consciousness.

She was dying.

My love, my world, dying in my arms.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I wouldn’t.

I gently laid her down, grabbing my gun.

I pointed it at Eric who was standing there just watching with furrowed brows.

He acted like he was hurt by the situation, like he cared about her.

“Change her.” I growled.

“Dean, you can’t.” Sam said as he started standing up.

“Sit the fuck down Sam.” I screamed at him.

I turned back around to Eric who still hasn’t moved.

“I said fucking change her, now.” I hissed.

He made no movements.

I fired a single silver bullet right in to his shoulder making him hiss in pain.

“I’m not asking again fucking do it.” I screamed.

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.” Eric said.

“I don’t care, I’m not losing her, do it.” I said.

I wasn’t thinking straight, all I could think about was that I didn’t want to live without her.

“I don’t even know if it’ll work.” Eric growled getting closer.

“Try, you fucking owe us that much.” I growled.

Eric gave me one last look before sinking his fangs in her neck wound, completely draining her of blood.

I sank to my knees as he bit his wrist forcing it in her mouth.

“I need you to start digging a hole big enough for the both of us.” He said once her heartbeat stopped.

“Why?” Sam asked.

“It’s either that or she dies from sunlight exposure.” He growled dripping more blood in to her mouth.

“Sam go.” I growled.

“Dean you can’t be serious with this?” Sam protested.

“Goddamnit Sam go.” I yelled.

He gave me one last look before running off to dig a hole. Eric finally yanked his wrist away going to help Sam dig. I crawled over to her now lifeless body.

“I’m so sorry baby, this is all my fault.” I sobbed on her chest, not caring that I was getting covered in her blood.

I didn’t protect her.

I should’ve protected her.

It should’ve been me.

“Alright move.” Eric growled pushing me off of her.

I grabbed my gun pointing it at him. I wanted nothing more than to kill him right then and there, but if this worked, she would need him.

He lifted her carefully in his arms jumping down in the hole that was dug. He gently laid her down, before laying down himself and cuddling her body to his chest.

I couldn’t stand the sight,

“Now cover us up. No sunlight can seep through or we’ll both die.” He growled.

“How will I know if it worked?” I said utterly defeated.

“If she wakes up tomorrow night, you’ll know.” Eric said.

I grabbed a shovel dumping dirt over them.

I couldn’t stop the tears from falling as I buried her.

Once I was sure she was far enough underground I collapsed as my body racked with sobs.

“Dean what did you do?” Sam questions sitting down beside me.

“I don’t know Sam, I couldn’t let her go.” I cried.

“It would’ve been better than this, Dean she wouldn’t want this.” Sam said.

I felt rage cloud over my eyes. I turned around shoving Sam.

“It wouldn’t have been better how can you say that?” I seethed.

“Dean I loved her too.” He started.

“No you didn’t, not like I did.” I whispered.

“So what you’re just going to wait here until tomorrow night?” He scoffed.

“If I have too.” I snapped.

I didn’t care what it took.

I was going to see her again.

“I’m sorry Dean but I can’t be part of this, I won’t.” Sam said.

I didn’t answer him.

If he didn’t want to be apart of this then he can go.

“Dean?” Sam pushed again as if he was going to change my mind.

When I didn’t answer him for the second time he finally left.

I brought my knees to my chest laying down beside the pile of dirt that contained her. I felt as if I died right along with her.

Reader

Am I dead?

Is this what death is like?

A permanent darkness?

I felt something cold and heavy on my body.

Where was I?

I can’t remember anything.

I felt something stir beside me alerting all of my senses.

I tried to move my hand and realized I was surrounded by dirt.

Was I buried alive?

What was going on?

I was panicking now.

I quickly started digging trying to free myself.

I was suddenly being ripped from the dirt by a strong hand.

Moonlight flooded my eyes as I took a sharp breath in.

It however provided no relief to my burning throat.

“It’s okay, everything is okay.” I quickly flipped around seeing a tall blonde.

I felt my memories come back like a flash flood.

Eric. Dean. Vampires. Death.

I died.

But I was still here.

That’s impossible.

Unless….

“I’m a..” I started too stunned to speak.

“A vampire.” Eric finished.

I looked at him, suddenly feeling a pull towards him, an unexplainable urge to protect and care for him.

I realized then that he was my maker.

He did this to me.

“I don’t understand.” I said grabbing my throat that was still burning.

“I saved you, you were dying and I saved you.” Eric said taking a step closer.

I found that my vampire self didn’t want him to step away, I wanted him to take me in his arms and tell me everything was going to be okay.

“I’m so..”

“Thirsty, I know, I’m going to take care of you.” Eric said.

Thirsty.

For blood.

I craved blood.

It made me sick, but I needed it.

Eric was about to take me away when a voice caught my attention.

“y/n?”

Dean

I laid by the freshly dug grave until I could see the sun starting to set.

If this worked she’d be up soon.

Please god let it work.

I sat up when I heard something stirring.

Eric arose out of the grave, eyes clouding with fury when he saw me standing there.

“You need to leave now.” He growled.

No fucking way.

“I’m not leaving.” I pushed back.

“Look she will be insatiable, and you’re covered in blood, so unless you want her to have your death on her conscience for eternity you’ll leave.” Eric said this time putting his hands on me and shoving me away from the grave.

“It worked?” I asked ignoring his request.

I couldn’t believe it worked.

“I need to see her.” I said, standing my ground.

“I need to feed her, so unless you want to become her meal you’ll leave. This is the last chance I’m offering you!” Eric growled.

I hesitantly backed up.

I didn’t want to torment her new senses.

I sighed before jogging off in to the tree line so I was out of sight.

I watched as Eric stuck his hand in the dirt pulling her out.

She still looked like herself, but everything was more defined now.

I felt my heart break as her eyes looked around terrified.

Oh god..

What did I do?

“It’s okay, everything is okay.” Eric assured her. 

Her face contorted with realization.

“I’m a..”

“A vampire.” Eric confirmed for her.

I could see her heartbreaking for just her face.

She didn’t want this.

I did this.

Oh god.

What did I do?

I felt the tears start to cloud my vision.

I was completely selfish.

Sam was right, she didn’t want this. But I wouldn’t listen.

“I’m going to take care of you.” I heard Eric say as he went to leave with her.

I couldn’t let him.

I stepped out of the tree line.

“y/n?”

She quickly whipped around in my direction. I saw her eyebrows contort in pain as she looked at me. Eric grabbed her hand bringing her to his side.

“It’s okay y/n, come here, I’ll help you.” I said taking a step closer.

She didn’t budge. Instead just stared at me with longing eyes.

I heard Eric chuckle making me growl.

“Remember that part where I said you had no idea what you were asking for?” Eric taunted.

“y/n come here.” I said again choosing to ignore him.

“Sorry, she only listens to me, she calls me daddy now.” Eric jabbed.

No.

This was all wrong.

This isn’t what I wanted.

I felt my hands shaking.

What did I do?

Part Two: Coming Soon!

[twisted-king]

Hello! Since you also write genshin, I've thought about reader or F!S/O being from Teyvat. But that isnt really the main point. How 'bout their F!S/O is from Sumeru and is strictly bestfriends with Cyno and Alhaitham. How would Trey, Azul, Jade, Floyd, and Jamil feel about their F!S/O having boy bestfriends back at her world? Maybe if they're jealous, reader tries to comfort them by saying that Alhaitham is engaged(to Kaveh)XD Lol

You dont have to do this if its to much♡

Oddly specific but I like the cut of your jib!

Also can be read as genter neutral, I don't reall mention gender on this one?

Trey, Azul, Jade, Floyd, and Jamil X F!SO from Teyvat

who is also besties with Cyno and Alhaitham

Trey Clover

Well youre from a whole different world! Magic seems to exist in some capacity at least.

He doesn't know what a Zatyun peach or a Sunsettia is.

But he tries v hard to make you things that remind you of home sometimes!

He actually does a pretty good job at it too!

And thats where the issue arives.

Whenever he asks about your homeland he knows he is going to hear about your best friends

He's trying SO hard to be normal about this

Trey loves you so much but, he gets a little jealous!

You've done so much with these two!!!

"And Cyno's jokes are the absolute WORST! I swear some of the things he says are worse than Ace's!" "Oh that's... nice!"

but they're your best friends! He really shouldn't be jealous.

"I still don't understand why Alhaitham is so jacked, like all he does is read books all day!"

He really shouldn't be jealous

"And I'm kind of glad its never too hot around here! Like I know he works primarily in the desert but like put a shirt on sometimes! You know?"

But damm its hard.

He tries to be subtle (not really)

"So have you ever like... done anything with one of these guys?" "What do you mean?" "Like have you dated one of them..?"

oh.... OH!

You laugh at that, he's embrassed "Oh gosh NEVER! They both have boyfriends anyhow! Alhaitham is engaged!" "Oh."

You nod and give him a little kith

Wow he's relieved!

Azul Ashengrotto

He loves learning about you and your home world! Truly!!!

Azul thinks your mind is briliant, you're so smart and quick on your feet due to years of travel!

With travel comes a lot of experiences

a lot.

without him.

He's playing it cool though! suuuper cool

"Oh I remember Alhaitham would never answer anything that wasnt formatted or completed properly! maybe you could do the same? it would certainly free up some time, no?" "Of course it woudl free up some time, dear... But" "buut?" "Well it wouldn't be fitting of my benevolent nature now would it, my love?"

Azul keeps trying to prove he's a better boyfriend than your old friends

He needs you to know he's the best option for you <3

"And could this 'Cyno' make you a delightful seafood pasta like this?" "No, not really, he was more into rice." "I see..."

Oh hey he made you curry and rice

You know, by the way. He is NOT sneaky

After another bout of showing off, you finally say something.

"They have boyfriends, you know?" "huh?" "Cyno and Alhaitham? they have partners. You don't have to be jealous." "Why would I be jealous, dearest?"

DENIER

Denies his jealous to this day but he gets happier after you reassure him.

Jade Leech

Yeah he's super cool about this!

for the most part...

He's extremely interested in learning about the flora in your world!

and he thinks those vishap creatures you compare him to sound rather interesting.

Jade being rather curious in nature comes in handy! since he doesnt seem to get jealous.

His questions are... odd, though. they kind of make sense?

"Cyno once took out like-- 10 guys in like a MINUTE! it was so cool! "Is he that fast in the depths of the sea?" "No-" "I see..."

Sometimes he's a little less slick though

"OH my gosh Alhaitham is so weird about soup! He hates the stuff because it could get on his books of all things!" "Does he consume beverages as he reads? tea perhaps?" "Yeah, sometimes." *Pleased eel noises*

He's just being careful :)

Jade often prefers to dicuss your best friends while in the kitchen. he likes spending this time with you!

And he has his knives and mushrooms at his disposal.

*chop chop chop* "And so Haitham and I used to skip out on akademiya meetings together-" *chopchopchop-* "But Cyno would ALWAYS 'catch' us just before the meeting would actually ends-" *ChopChopChopChop-* "So then he'd bring us to Kaveh, Alhaitham's fiance to-" "He has a fiance?" "yeah,why?" "no reason." *chop~ chop~ chop~*

He's still keeping the information from his... questioning in mind.

Can't be too careful, after all.

Floyd Leech

He loves his shrimpy's stories!!!

He hates his shrimpy's stories :((

Floyd is reaaal conflicted. He thinks you're so interesting! your world seems like fun!! he wants to go there with you.

But not with those men you keep talking about

"So sometimes there are these HUGE mushrooms that kind of act like a launchpad! they're super springy." "Eh? Jade might like soemthing like that... OOOH! do ya think if I throw someone (Ace) on one of those they'd still bounce?" "Yeah they would! one time while going after a criminal, Cyno had to-" "Eeeeh I'm bored. You coming to my next game?"

Subtlety? not THIS eel

He audibly groans when you bring them up sometimes.

But he still loves hearing you talk! so it really confusing sometimesz

"So genius invocation uses 8 elements, 7 from the nations, one is omni. Usually the cards are based off of vision users like Diluc of mondstadt, Arataki Itto, from Inazuma... OH! there is one of my best friend, Alhaitham, he's dendro and Cyno's is electro, its actually" Oh he's no longer looking at you.

You get an idea... "There is one of Haitham's fiance, Kaveh" "Oh really?"

GOT HIS ASS

You're his girlfriend, you know him best.

He's a little less weird about listening to your stories now, he's way more enaged.

He still tugs you closer to him when you mention other men, but thats kind of normal for him now.

Jamil Viper

A confident king? He's not really jealous. He knows he can be better than them.

Plus they're just friends to you.

But in all honestly he like... doesn't care too much about Teyvat.

You're here now, with him. not them.

Don't get him wrong, Jamil likes hearing about what your world!

There's only oneee little thing he doesnt love hearing.

"Sometimes I miss the food from Teyvat... Cyno always made the best Tahchin." "The best you say?" "Yeah! he shaped it like a pyramid every time he made it!" "Have you ever tried mine?" "You make tahchin!?"

He's smug, you'll love his cooking more than that Cyno's.

He serves you a plate of tahchin, golden brown, perfectly seasoned, barberries topping the rounded rice dish "So, what do you think?" "This is so good! I kind of miss the padisarah petals though.."

The hell is THAT?

"Is it... not up to your expectations, my flower?" "No its delicious! I think I just miss the way my friend would make it.."

He's a little grumpy about it!!

Jamil gets kind of huffy with you next time you're together.

He's not ignoring you but just don't bring up food for a while.

Snake man will just respond with "Why don't you ask Cyno." when it comes to cooking for the next day or two...

[twisted-wonderland-memories]

A wish you want?

Azul Ashengrotto x Stoic/Apathy! Reader (not Yuu) Genre: Fluff

Summary: You got yourself into a contract, and yet the contract doesn't seem that interesting and yet you just casually agreed to it to find a purpose...even if the contract is broken.

-

-

-

"With this contract, I will grant you the wish to have a purpose~ So What will you say?"

"..."

And this is how you got yourself into a strange situation, being part of the monstro lounge but something is very odd about you.

You are a normal person who is in the dorm of Ignihyde, Blending into the shadows despite having decently good grades, normal stable life, and a good amount of magic (almost similar to Riddle in a way) but there is one catch.

Apathy is the main reason why you show much of your own pride to others, because of that a few people purposely mistaken you for a weak mage even tho you are mainly the opposite, but that is right besides the point.

For some odd reason (before Azul's overblot) you seem to notice Azul making a contract with the others. Getting exam answers perfect to a tee just to win at the first place, if failed to meet the terms they are now employees till they graduate. At first it seem to be a desent thing to like and accept but for others they would complain cause not only they would be forced to obey but their own unique magic is taken away.

But to you.... this is unique.

One day you decided to make a deal with Azul.

"So you want a purpose?"

"Yes... A purpose to find meaning."

This is something that Azul is not prepared, he has the wish solutions prepared and all that being made and ready but your own wish is unique and is hard to fulfill it. But Azul is never back down from a challenge and got a bit too confident to help you with your wish. Thus the both of you did sign the contract, but even after the events of Azul’s overblot you are still here in the Monstro Lounge as a staff member cleaning the place up.

And Azul does mentally admits that your wish is pretty hard to achieve, he can achieve others’s wishes easily but not this.

If he needs to grant your wish in a effective way…

“(y/n)-san, pardon the intrusion. May I had a work with you on your wish?”

“Hm? What is it, Azul?”

“I can understand the term of your wish, but I do have one question. What type of purpose or desire do you prfer?”

When Azul as you that question, you paused yourself. Even he too didn’t know the meaning of your wish, “I….” Staring at your own hands you shrug as Azul stares at you, he too was wondering himself, “Still no answer?” He asked as you nod sadly, “I understand, thank you for answering my question, (y/n)-san.” And yet he did not treat you badly, unlike before he did not grant your wish but now it would seem that answering your wish is his newest challenge.

Ever since that awkward question, Azul decided to have an idea. Gathering up the courage he decided to search up your conditions and evenly asked the Leech twins to keep an eye on you, but once the research has been set. Azul soon understands why you don’t hold a grudge against him when he did put you on a pressure in the Monstro Lounge, with the new found knowledge in mind Azul has an idea.

If you can’t find a purpose, why don’t he hang out with you to find your purpose with him.

Surely it can work so easily well.

But as a result, Azul did not realize one thing…

Thanks to the hangouts for almost everyday, he grew closer to you to the point that he realize he is in love with you slowly. You are a good listening to him especially when you also accepted him just the way he is, you help him out in Floyd’s place everytime his mood is bad, and most of all your support is what got him to enjoy your presence more. Because of that he loves you and your company, it gives him less stress and reassurance that things will go well, and yet he is scared that you won’t understand his feelings.

And yet he was not aware that he got successful in fulfilling your wish.

One day, you were about to head back to your dorm and call in for the night till Azul decided to come see you and invites you over to dinner with him here for free, it was delicious and yet you feel a bit guilty knowing that he just did it to make you happy. But as a result….

“Azul….”

“Yes?”

“Can you give me your hand?”

Azul hesitated for a second till he obliges, gently taking his hand and removing the gloves you give him a kiss on the hand which caused him to blush. Once you pull away you smiled at him.

“Thank you Azul. For fulfilling my wish.”

[ewyband]

EWY BIG Q&A

hi!! recently i did a q&a on instagram about SLAD. unfortunately (or fortunately?) there were too many questions to answer purely on instagram stories without spamming. here's the ones i couldn't answer on instagram, answered here!

MERLOT, both in terms of my favourite composition and performance

my partner and i were on a break whilst they were studying abroad ("we're only on month 1 of 4"). I just kinda word vomited my feelings. I was feeling pretty depressed at the time I wont lie.

yes i DID!!! this EP was MADE for fun. i wrote the songs specifically to make fun songs to play live. (aside from HOLLOW DRUG)

"And I could be displaced from my home And it could be seen on all your phones Is it real? Or is it fake? Look close, do my arms look like legs?"

probs the most lyrically dense I've been?? i'm not sure.

first of all, thank you so much!! second, some songs i write it all in one day but others can take a week or so before i'm fully happy with how its sounding. that being said, i always end up changing something before recording (usually around a month after writing, but in the case of MERLOT, that was recorded only a week after writing).

if i had to just name one, it'd be Nirvana. I wrote a 3000 word essay on In Utero for uni and that genuinely inspired me to make these songs. I really loved how Nirvana performed and I thought 'man, if only I had songs like that where I'd have an excuse to go crazy' other influences would include Jeff Rosenstock (my #1 fav artist) and PUP (greatest live show I've ever been to) btw, thank u sm!!

yes,,, very much

unfortunately i havent learnt proper scream technique so all of my screams were done at the very very end of my recording sessions. i think it worked out because that meant i had a lot of pent up frustration

i will start by saying my uni lets me hire out all of these microphones for free (if you don't count the student loan) vocals: SM7b & RE20 (only on sociopathic leech) guitar: AKG C414 matched pair (acoustic and electric) bass: my takes were originally done with an RE20, pretty sure fern just DI'd drums: Audix DP7 + SM57 (for hi-hat) + C414 for room mic's

i'll try get this done tomorrow!

i was in a guitar lesson at uni and we were talking about chromatics in the blues scale. my guitar teacher suggested i try to make a riff using the blues scale and particularly the chromatic part. that riff ended up being the middle 8 section of RIGHTS TO MY WRONGS. the rest of the song basically acted as a vessel to transport this breakdown middle 8 section. hopefully it doesn't come across that way !!!!!! but that was the main idea.

it felt very natural. i'll probably continue to go this direction in my future releases.

its mainly a reference to SOCIOPATHIC LEECH! 'i could beat you with a bat'. i just wanted something that felt visceral and angry and i feel like izzie really captured that.

yes and no! brett romnes is a super nice guy and very fun to work with. i obviously had my own mixes so he could see what i preferred and essentially made it better. i think there ended up being 4 drafts before we reached a final master.

these were my original mixing notes! i think the only thing that really got lost in translation was i added some really subtle vocal distortion at the end of HOLLOW DRUG in my original mix. in the end, i feel empowered by brett because he made it sound like what i felt it should sound like in my head (DOES THIS SENTENCE MAKE SENSE!?)

after i wrote SOCIOPATHIC LEECH and RIGHTS TO MY WRONGS, i was like 'okay, this is the style we're going for, lets do some sort of project in this particular style' i was pretty dead set on an EP since i'd just done an album. so to answer your question, yes and no!

i wish i could put something significant here. im sure theres some psychologist out there who could tell me that the song represents something about me. i was feeling alienated at the time, hopefully this helps? "confess your sins to the crowd, no-one can hear you when you're talking so loud" is definitely about my frustrations with song meanings though

hi mikey!

this person was the GM for a cyberpunk TTRPG game i played in. i wanted to write a cyberpunk themed album at one point but i guess that one merlot line is the closest we'll get.

i have semi answered this question but I WANTED TO WRITE SONGS THAT WERE FUN TO PLAY LIVE !!!!! and i think it worked out in the end

THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO WROTE IN !!! MY ASKBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN!!!

[valeffelees]

12-17 for Niall, if you’re up for it

cannot stress enough how much i am always up for talking about Niall, thank you for coming to hang out ✌️

12. Crack headcanon

you wouldn't think this would be the question to throw me, bc like. this would be so easy to answer for Dev, i have so many silly fuckin thoughts about him. but for Niall, i dunno. i tend to take him a little too seriously, i think. i still have fun with him and have lots of niche headcanons about him, but i dunno that i would call any of them "crack" headcanons, yk? a gen headcanon i have about him tho is that when they were kids, think somewhere between second and fourth year, Dev made him a charm (almost like a keychain) for his wand out of a tiny seashell bc Niall's magic smells like salt water and feels cold when he casts, and it's still on his wand to this day.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

answered this one here!

14. Most heroic moment

ok ok so stay with me here but for Simon Snow and the Five Blades, my headcanon is that the main problem Simon has to face that year (other than Baz) is this cliche narrative where he has to find something called the Eternity Stone, which is less a stone and more like a huge marble altar, that's leeching the magic out of the school's foundation, and Watford is so dusty that most of it is held together by magic, so as more and more of the magic is pulled away, the school literally starts to fall apart. in order to restore balance to the Stone and save the school, Simon has to track down five sacred magical swords and, yeah, long story short: one of the swords he needs belongs to the Pitches, bc of course it does, and Niall is the one to help Baz sneak said sword out of Pitch Manor after he eventually agrees to give it up, which, i wouldn't exactly call "heroic" but he did help save the school just a little bit. i would prolly have a better answer for this question if i spent more time working on headcanons for some of Simon's other school years but ngl the Five Blades and the Six White Hares are the only ones i've really given any notable amount of thought to.

15. Worst thing they’ve ever done

i think the answer here depends on who you're asking, like Simon would tell you, albeit lightheartedly these days, the worst thing Niall ever did was enable all of Baz's bullying, but Dev would look at you like you're spewing chunks and say Niall doesn't have the bones to do bad things. but if you asked Niall, he would prolly tell you it was ignoring calls, and later, after the mobile ban at Watford, letters from his mother for a while.

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

Niall's mental health is really fucking bad, dude. he's been seeing a therapist for years, but he has such low self-esteem that he constantly brushes off and hides and downplays his issues, to the point where he doesn't even realise how bad shit actually is.

17. Songs that I associate with them

[mariana-oconnor]

The Naval Treaty pt 3

Yes, we apparently have got to the point where I'm memeing myself.

Right, last time, after Percy, Watson's old 'pal' from school failed magnificently at understanding how to protect confidential data, he followed an old woman into the night and the stress gave him a brain fever. Meanwhile, I'm still certain that Joseph Harrison, who has not been implicated in any way, is involved because I am a well-balanced and entirely reasonable person.

Mr. Joseph Harrison drove us down to the station

See! He's trying to get rid of you! 🤣🤣😂

“It's a very cheery thing to come into London by any of these lines which run high, and allow you to look down upon the houses like this.”

Last time we had Holmes looking out a train window: Ugh, look how terrible the countryside is! I can't bear it.

The contrast is palpable.

“The board-schools.” “Light-houses, my boy! Beacons of the future! Capsules with hundreds of bright little seeds in each, out of which will spring the wise, better England of the future. I suppose that man Phelps does not drink?”

Board schools are not the same as boarding schools, the internet tells me, but the first state run schools with no religious affiliation. I was about to be cynical about Holmes' view of children and Victorian educational standards, but I can't. He's right, those schools were important and really did pave the way for a brighter future.

And then a bit of mental whiplash as he snaps back to the case at hand, because he's Holmes.

In answer to the question, I can't say whether Percy drinks alcohol, but he definitely has a caffeine addiction that he should work on. If not for that, he wouldn't be in this mess.

Also, it was unreasonable of his uncle to expect him to copy so much text in a foreign language in one night. But even so, Percy needs to work harder on curbing his need for coffee.

"Then came the smash, and she stayed on to nurse her lover, while brother Joseph, finding himself pretty snug, stayed on too."

Oh, so he's just hanging around leeching off people, huh? Exactly as I suspected! This is just the beginning. Clearly, he's been a wrong'un all along and I will be vindicated.

"But to-day must be a day of inquiries.” “My practice—” I began. “Oh, if you find your own cases more interesting than mine—” said Holmes, with some asperity.

First of all, Watson does have a job, Holmes. I get that you want to play with him, but he does have responsibilities. You really shouldn't be bitchy about that.

Second, if Watson actually cares enough about his patients to ditch you, that would be the first time ever.

“I was going to say that my practice could get along very well for a day or two, since it is the slackest time in the year.”

See. No problem at all. Why would Watson ever do his actual job when he could be running around with Holmes? What a preposterous idea!

"...there is Lord Holdhurst.” “Lord Holdhurst!” “Well, it is just conceivable that a statesman might find himself in a position where he was not sorry to have such a document accidentally destroyed.” “Not a statesman with the honorable record of Lord Holdhurst?”

Oh Watson, my sweet summer child. Out there believing in unicorns and fairies and honourable politicians.

I discounted him because honestly, a political plot involving the politician uncle and corruption seemed too spy thriller. Also, the time frame of everything being nine weeks ago, I think discounts a political motive because if there were spy games going on, it would be far too late to do anything about it. Of course, it might be the case. These stories have surprised me a few times so far.

“£10 reward. The number of the cab which dropped a fare at or about the door of the Foreign Office in Charles Street at quarter to ten in the evening of May 23d. Apply 221b, Baker Street.”

The Bank of England inflation calculator tells me that's equivalent to approximately £1000 today, which is a pretty impressive reward for a little bit of information. Honestly, I'd expect people to be climbing out of the woodwork to say they saw Queen Victoria herself driving the cab and dropping off Jack the Ripper.

"Why yes, Mr Holmes, I saw a man with a long white beard and carrying a large sack. No, it was right odd, y'see: he didn't go in through the door. He climbed up on' roof and went down the chimney, that he did."

"And then, of course, there is the bell—which is the most distinctive feature of the case. Why should the bell ring?"

This is what I'm most interested in. What is up with that bell?

He sank back into the state of intense and silent thought from which he had emerged; but it seemed to me, accustomed as I was to his every mood, that some new possibility had dawned suddenly upon him.

Tell me! Tell me! I need to know. The bell is plaguing me.

a small, foxy man with a sharp but by no means amiable expression.

So Lestrade is a ferret and Forbes is a fox. Must all police officers be described as animals? This appears to be a pattern.

“You are ready enough to use all the information that the police can lay at your disposal, and then you try to finish the case yourself and bring discredit on them.” “On the contrary,” said Holmes, “out of my last fifty-three cases my name has only appeared in four, and the police have had all the credit in forty-nine. I don't blame you for not knowing this, for you are young and inexperienced, but if you wish to get on in your new duties you will work with me and not against me.” “I'd be very glad of a hint or two,” said the detective, changing his manner.

Forbes changes his tune pretty quickly here, so he seems open minded enough. Although it does seem a bit like he doesn't understand the purpose of Holmes. Yes, he's supposed to take all the evidence the police give him and try to solve the case. That's kind of how being a detective works. I get the emphasis here is on 'yourself', but still.

I like this exchange, because we've already seen in the stories that Holmes really doesn't care about the notoriety or the accolades - though he's more than willing to display gifts he's given in his own home - it's entirely the case and helping the people involved that he cares about.

Not sure he really needed to say that 'you are young and inexperienced' bit, though. Seems a tad direct.

“We have set one of our women on to her. Mrs. Tangey drinks, and our woman has been with her twice when she was well on, but she could get nothing out of her.”

OK, I thought it sounded unlikely that there were female police officers in the late 1800s, and it seems like the first female police officer in London was in 1919. But it definitely appears from this that they have women working for them - unless one of them has set his wife on a suspect, which... fair. Fascinating either way.

Also, Mrs Tangey has an alcohol problem, that could be an angle.

“What explanation did she give of having answered the bell when Mr. Phelps rang for the coffee?” “She said that he husband was very tired and she wished to relieve him.”

Alright, so it either was her, or she's involved in some way. Which I think we already suspected, but this clarifies that no one impersonated her without her knowledge, at least.

“Did you point out to her that you and Mr. Phelps, who started at least twenty minutes after he, got home before her?” “She explains that by the difference between a 'bus and a hansom.”

That's fair. Not everyone can afford their own taxi. Check your privilege, Holmes.

Standing on the rug between us, with his slight, tall figure, his sharp features, thoughtful face, and curling hair prematurely tinged with gray, he seemed to represent that not too common type, a nobleman who is in truth noble.

I may have rolled my eyes at this bit. Watson sometimes needs to back off on his earnest belief in the glory of England and its political and social systems. He's so classist it's actually painful at some points. Even if he's saying the type is 'not too common' it just makes me wrinkle my nose.

I also don't like Lord Holdhurst, but that's mainly because I believe hereditary nobility is immoral and also because he is a tory politician. There was never any hope of me liking him. I don't think he murders puppies, but I bet he'd pass legislation saying that murdering puppies is okay in certain circumstances if his old chum wanted to start a puppy murdering business and was a generous donor.

"I fear that the incident must have a very prejudicial effect upon his career.”

Yeah, that I do agree with.

“But if the document is found?” “Ah, that, of course, would be different.”

This, I do not agree with. Not after nine weeks, anyway. If it had been a couple of hours and the document was found to have fallen down the gap between the desk and the wall then he could probably just be given extra training and not allowed to touch confidential documentation without supervision for a few years. But it's been nine weeks. That treaty is lost. Even if it's returned, he still lost it for nine weeks.

“Did you ever mention to any one that it was your intention to give any one the treaty to be copied?” “Never.” “You are certain of that?” “Absolutely.”

OK. That cuts off that line of thinking, as Watson's insistence on him looking 'noble' clearly means we're supposed to believe him. But we already knew it wasn't him.

Because it's Joseph Harrison.

“If the treaty had reached, let us say, the French or Russian Foreign Office, you would expect to hear of it?” “I should,” said Lord Holdhurst, with a wry face.

Like I say, any political motivations would have been thoroughly completed by now, before Holmes was even called upon, so that's not likely.

“Of course, it is a possible supposition that the thief has had a sudden illness—” “An attack of brain-fever, for example?”

Given he called Holmes in, I sincerely doubt Percy's involved. Again, if this weren't a Sherlock Holmes story, there's a slim possibility it could be that his brain fever cause amnesia meaning that he doesn't remember taking the treaty and causing the whole problem, but that doesn't seem like a likely plot here.

“But he has a struggle to keep up his position. He is far from rich and has many calls. You noticed, of course, that his boots had been re-soled?"

OK so now we give him a motive, when you've all just gone on about how he's a 'fine fellow'? Are Lord Holdsworth's money problems going to be relevant to the plot? Maybe. We've heard nothing of Percy having any cousins, so as it stands he might be his uncle's heir. Not sure how that would lead to the treaty being stolen, but we'll bear it in mind.

Ah, and then Watson is racist again. Native Americans this time. These stories are really trying to spread the racism around, aren't they. This whole section is strange though, because it's about how Watson can't read Holmes' face, when multiple times (in this very story) he's said how he knows Holmes so well that he can instantly tell from his face what Holmes is thinking.

“God bless you for saying that!” cried Miss Harrison. “If we keep our courage and our patience the truth must come out.”

She and Watson should get together and have optimist meetings.

Although, it's definitely your brother, Miss Harrison. I don't know how, but it is. It's got to be. We're running out of suspects. Mrs Tangey seems like she might be involved, but I doubt she's the mastermind behind events.

Maybe Joseph just bribed her into trying to discredit Percy, she saw the paper and thought 'well this looks important' and took it not really knowing what it was.

But that doesn't explain the bell. Unless it's because she was drunk and she stumbled and grabbed it. Or she didn't really want to be doing it, so she pulled it in a weird attempt to get caught. Or she let Harrison in and then saw him stealing something and pulled the bell, only to be threatened if she said anything.

“Yes, we have had an adventure during the night, and one which might have proved to be a serious one.” His expression grew very grave as he spoke, and a look of something akin to fear sprang up in his eyes. “Do you know,” said he, “that I begin to believe that I am the unconscious centre of some monstrous conspiracy, and that my life is aimed at as well as my honor?”

He's probably right to be worried - maybe not for his life, but I'm pretty sure this entirely thing is aimed at him, not the treaty. But at the same time, this does not sound like the thinking of a mentally healthy person.

"A man was crouching at the window."

No. No, you see it could be him. Of course you're going to want to make it seem like it was someone from outside forcing their way in. To keep the suspicion off the people who live in the house. It has to be him. Has to be.

Did he have a knife, or was it just something that looked like a knife... like...

uh...

The thing he used to unlock the window?

"As it was, I rang the bell and roused the house. It took me some little time, for the bell rings in the kitchen and the servants all sleep upstairs. I shouted, however, and that brought Joseph down, and he roused the others."

Oh oh... convenient, being the first person on the scene, huh? Was that because you weren't in bed asleep at all? Mr Joseph Harrison?

(If I am by some miracle right about this, it will be entirely undeserved as literally the only reason I decided it was him is because he seemed too happy and his sister is getting married)

"There's a place, however, on the wooden fence which skirts the road which shows signs, they tell me, as if some one had got over, and had snapped the top of the rail in doing so."

Okay... well... well... that doesn't really fit with my theory at all, but maybe it's a coincidence. People climb over fences all the time. Maybe it happened ages ago. I bet they don't check the fences every day. Totally not a sign I'm wrong.

“Oh, yes, I should like a little sunshine. Joseph will come, too.”

Why?

No, seriously. Why? Percy says Joseph will come, but not his fiancee? That's weird. Is it because Joseph is stronger if Percy needs to be carried back?

"I should have thought those larger windows of the drawing-room and dining-room would have had more attractions for him.” “They are more visible from the road,” suggested Mr. Joseph Harrison.

And right here we have the classic Columbo moment. I know Sherlock Holmes came first, no need to send me angry messages. But this is something that happens in Every. Single. Columbo. It's part of his method, it's kind of his whole method. He makes a comment about 'I wonder why the murderer didn't do x' to the person he (and the audience) knows is the murderer and the villain, in an attempt to cover their own tracks, immediately presents an explanation.

“Do you think that was done last night? It looks rather old, does it not?” “Well, possibly so.”

Aw shucks, is Holmes not falling for your clever ruse? What a pity!

“Miss Harrison,” said Holmes, speaking with the utmost intensity of manner, “you must stay where you are all day. Let nothing prevent you from staying where you are all day. It is of the utmost importance.” “Certainly, if you wish it, Mr. Holmes,” said the girl in astonishment.

Not the weirdest thing Holmes has ever asked a person to do - still remember Watson pretzeling himself behind the headboard that one time - but still kinda weird. I hope she has some sort of enrichment in her enclosure. Tell me she has a bookcase at least.

“Why do you sit moping there, Annie?” cried her brother. “Come out into the sunshine!”

Look! LOOK! He's trying to get her out of the room. He hid the treaty in the room and now he's trying to get it back but he can't! All aboard the Joseph Harrison train, next stop: Vindication.

Got to assume that even though Joseph wasn't present when Holmes was speaking to Anne, or when he was speaking to Percy, he will be aware that Percy is not in the house. But he'll only be able to break into the room by the window again, so I guess that is the plan. To catch him red-handed.

[meow-ball]

3/6/24

I got diagnosed with Bipolar 2. which leaves me with the, rather impressive, dual diagnosis of both Borderline and Bipolar. At this point, the rest of my life seems bleak. I know it's important to overcome the stigma that I AM my diagnosis, however I am looking down the barrel of the two deadliest and chronic disorders. Does not leave a lot of room for positivity.

I spent my childhood being ridiculed for my attention seeking behavior, one of today's biggest insecurities, and I often find myself asking if im doing this for attention too. How much of this is performative and am I talking myself into episodes. Am I making myself cry and hyperventilate. Am I making myself hurt myself and drive my car off the road. Am I making myself not be able to get out of bed or eat. Am I doing this to myself.

This is a very genuine question I ask myself. Logically, of course a human would not inflict this much pain on themselves and quite honestly I'm not sure I have the willpower to have committed to this ruse for this long. But on the other, far less logically driven, hand: I hate myself. Plain and simple, short and sweet. I just hate myself. So of course I deserve all this self imposed torture. But then again, that brings me to a strange cycle of feeling this is attention seeking, hating myself for those behaviors, and then I continue the sabotage.

I feel like a strange leech in my own head. Like I'm not the one running the show, I just occasionally check back in before months of auto pilot. But at the same time I feel in control of almost everything. I think that's the appeal of mania for me, I am out of control. I dont like being in control, I'm not a control freak or some sociopathic person who enjoys exerting that control. I was never leading group projects in school, I have never been highly schedule oriented or kept on a particularly tight leash. I just Am. I am.

So actually that paragraph is bullshit because I am so frequently disassociated that it should be impossible for me to be in control of anything. I think one of my greatest talents is lying to myself. Im not sure theres anything I couldn't convince myself of. I am a firm believer in the nuture aspect of nature VS nurture (ironic because my disorder is genetically imposed). Nurture in the sense that if I repeat it enough, say it to myself and others, change and tweak my life enough so that it fits and works, I will just Be. This brings me to the other pressing question of: Who the fuck am I and what the fuck am I doing. I have thousands of answers to this question.

I am quiet and shy, yet smart and unexpectedly ambitious.

I am lively, charming and attractive.

I am a failure, a college drop out, unemployed with no life skills or aspirations.

I am a naturally inclined artist with enough to say that I would never hit a creative drought.

I am a drug addicted young adult, a victim of the system.

I am a supremely talented musician who spent 10 years training at the professional level on multiple instruments.

I am a burnout.

I am Bipolar.

I am Borderline.

I am scared of being alone.

I love being alone.

[skeletonsarecuties]

Am I Doing It Wrong?

An end to my first DnD character, Roth. (as far as i know, the DM's crafty and who knows what she has in the works)

but this is roughly how i imagined her story to end haha

The fog is cool and damp, as it should be. The same as it was when she met him the first time, seeking solace in the comfort of being hidden by its cover when he found her and sapped away her negative emotions, nearly killing her in the process. She stands there again now, the familiar shaking and tightness in her chest but this time far heavier, not the tense ball of energy it usually is. She stares into the fog and knows he’s there, even before his silhouette appears, features still obscured by the fog as he stands a few feet in front of her.

“Am I doing it wrong?”

“What? Pretending you can act like a person? Or playing in this old BnB?” His words sting, but she’s here for answers from the one person who might be able to give them.

“You’re a being of negativity, am I being… upset wrong?” Using a stronger word than upset feels wrong. Like it’s not allowed, she’s not supposed to describe herself as feeling anything stronger than that.

“Are you really asking me for emotional support? What, do you want comfort.”

Her voice rips from her throat, “Am I doing it wrong?”

A beat of silence, curiosity wins out, after all, with this much negativity, he might as well get a good meal out of whatever this one is on about. “Explain.”

She takes a deep breath. The tears, the shaking, they’re already building up and she does all she can to control herself and the ball of stress sitting in her chest that’s ready to snap like a rubber band. She needs to at least last long enough to ask her question properly. “Being upset, being not okay. When everyone else is upset, they shutdown, they get quiet, or yell, or cry, and they get comfort. They get understanding and people wanting to help them and worrying over them. When I-,“ her voice breaks before she collects herself again, a humourless chuckle fights its way out. She bites the rest of it back, “when I’m not okay I get shaky, I laugh and shake and smile and talk too much and too fast, saying stupid things I wish I wouldn’t say and I get laughed at. I get looked at like entertainment.” the image of Cash and his amused look by the pool flashes in her mind, “It’s suffocating, like I’m banging on a glass wall and no one can hear me, they just laugh at my funny faces.” It’s hard to tell where the disdain in her voice is directed. Them for not understanding, herself for not being understandable to them?

Roth takes a deep breath, tears trailing, fighting so hard not to go into her panic state, she needs to be taken seriously right now, she can’t make herself into a joke. Again “Is it my fault? I’m not upset in a way they can understand so I just deserve to be laughed at? Am I doing it wrong?”

She can’t see his face through the fog, only hear his deep voice practically shake the ground as he chuckles, as it surrounds her or maybe it’s his odd black limbs weaving through the earth again. He continues to laugh as he decides on the best thing to say to drag out this meal of negativity before him. Despite the coldness leeching through her limbs, waiting for his answer, she really does feel a bit better. It’s nice to be able to say all this, to vent in some way. And really, who better to ask, to go to for this than the self-proclaimed king of negativity? At least with him, in this fog, she didn’t have to face that look everyone else gave her. Looking at her like some oddity, something not quite right and funny to see react under stress. Meant to be set aside when it’s no longer entertaining. It’s cold but for the first time in a long time, that tangled ball in her chest is quiet.

[marshmallowprotection]

OCD anon here again;;; (sorry..)

I had a flare up today and was convinced that no matter how many times I washed my hands, I couldn't get my dog's 'germs' off - I'd been playing with her in the garden, throwing a little ball which of course got wet and slimy with her mouth - usually I'm okay with washing my hands a few times, then a few scrubs antibacterial wipes, all good!

But oh man, today

Mind you, things were no different to any other day, not at all

I must've just been feeling particularly anxious about something which I can't remember because as soon as the flare up hits everything else is nothing compared to it

Well

I basically thought everything in my house was infected with dog germs. If I touched anything, a sofa, tv remote, chair, kitchen counter - it was there.

I hadn't touched anything.

Everything was fine.

I had to call in my parents to tell me that everything was fine.

Many, many times.

Are you sure?

Are you sure?

But - but -

Eventually I calmed down about my entirely spotless surroundings and just ended up washing my hands at least three more times until I was satisfied

Until I thought that I was okay.

Which of course...I was the whole time.

The worst thing is hindsight, when you look back on yourself and are like I'm so stupid and dumb. Replaying even that in your head.

But - here I go again with a Saeran request ~

I'll never stop feeling guilty for putting my parents through my antics almost every single day.

I'm like a whining leech, I must be...infuriating.

Actually, I know that I am.

Well, I know that my parents won't ever fully understand what it's like. But it does hurt when they sigh and puff and get very visibly irritated, and even laugh sometimes at my checking, like '...really? Come on.'

Oh yeah! What I meant to say all along was Saeran -

Kait, you and your writings are such a great comfort to all of us here.

But the way you write Saeran is just...perfect. I wanted to thank you for that! <3

Especially because what you've written for me before - even though you don't even have to answer - really cheers me up when I'm feeling skittish.

So I...I um - I'd really love a little cuddle and squeeze from Saeran today...and just go and lie on my bed and with all the lights down or even just off, so nothing's too jarring or distracting...

And just kind of nuzzle into him and cuddle all nice and warm and cozy!

... >.< <3 <3

On the worst days, that's when you can count on GE Saeran to hold you. he knows what you must be feeling when you give him that look that says all he needs to know about it. He hates that there isn't very much he can do to help you feel comfortable with your fears. But, he knows that being there for you, being sympathetic and considerate... that's really what matters to your needs is what matters at the end of the day.

You need someone who gets it and doesn't question why you must do something a dozen times to feel comfortable. He doesn't want the pain to get so bad that you wind up hurting yourself through any of it. Compulsions are hard to combat, and he doesn't want you to think of how you might make things harder on yourself.

What's important is that you have a safe space to feel what you need to feel. It doesn't matter how horribly silly you think you sound when the germs are close, to him it's something that people need to take seriously. You're not comfortable. It doesn't take much to make some minor adjustments for your sake.

Sure, you'll also need to work on some of your habits. But, putting all the work on your shoulders now and nobody else will never improve things. There are ways everyone can pitch in to make you feel safe in your body. It doesn't take much to be considerate. That's how Saeran feels about it.

He won't judge you when you come to him in tears about how tough it was for you to deal with your compulsion today.

He has an open-arm policy ready for you when you need him to be there. What do you need him to do? He'll do whatever you ask so things feel cleaner and safe, and he'll even wait for you to run through your steps so you're not alone when you need to repeat something a few times.

Mainly, he's just there when you need to be compressed in a hug that doesn't feel like you're suffocating. Which, sometimes, that's the best medicine for you. You just want to have no stimuli but the rocking of his heartbeat. The feeling of his hand stroking down your back is the best thing you could ever ask for, right?

"No matter how alone you feel in your fears, I will never leave you to suffer alone in the darkness. I will always be here to lull you to peace until you feel ready to come back to the light," he will murmur against the sound of your heartbeat. "Even if we fall into the darkness on the bad days, there will always be time to find the warmth later. But, for now, let's find peace from the cold together... until you feel ready to talk about it."

[glowstone23b]

OKAY HI semi sentient elytra thingies from phanon (phanon blog reveal) urs truly

Given the end is like. suuuper weird and alien. (I also hc endermen to be former ancient builders mutated because of eating chorus fruits when they got stuck in the end) almost nothing is like how you expect it to be there and that goes for elytras too

When they latch onto a user, over a period of time they’ll sink these tendrils into the shoulder blades and connect in with the blood etc and begin to sort of leech off you while trying to give you flying benefits + higher reaction times to stuff in exchange 🗣️

yk how when butterflies or moths emerge from cocoons and need a minute to pump blood thru their wings so they can get them to work?? Thats how that works !! meaning elytras take a second to slowly slowly adjust to the host and form wings that are best suited for them

now onto the mutation parts 1!1!1

sage (my oc) began to repair her elytra using phantom scales which phantoms shed naturally instead of killing them for membrane.

these worked .surprisingly really well . and she hardly noticed the fact that the elytra began to slowly mutate her

This was because the elytra sort of assumed— that due to the sudden bits of phantom scales, that they were biologically from her and that she was some sort of phantom-like hybrid person, and began trying to restore what wasn’t there, hence Sage getting a few phantom-like features

Also to note that while the mutations can change a few bits both behaviourally, physically and mentally they never really fully change the person? as in you won’t start going ham on ppl now that you’re partly a mob is what im saying (like Sage doesn’t have to worry about getting blinded by the sun despite being technically part phantom but being around bright lights can cause an eventual headache)

After like a fair few months of never removing the mutated elytra they eventually just. they’re never able to come off afterwards and just fully fuse into the host 👍yes this causes problems with wearing shirts and jackets

also sage oc reveal HUZZAH . dont look too hard at the anatomy i havent drawn a thing in months (shes in her pyjamas too) (my girl is not a morning person)

also yeah sometimes her phantoms try to preen her and it usually ends up scratching her skin ajdbekfjfk

DID YOU DRAW THAT JUST FOR THIS ASK

Also hello blog reveal I was already following you somehow 😂 loving your oc. Loving her

I also love tinkering with winged clothes concepts (like for people whose elytras have fused to them) so they snap or button or velcro in the back or something you know? Good stuff!

What if the elytra (after having been fully fused, I guess, but early users apply too) runs out of durability? Are the wings something you yourself can feel once they’ve fused with you, or is it more like… a neurological thing, where the elytra just know what you’re thinking? That way, it can move you in that direction! Could you feel them as an extension to your body? If they get hurt, would you be able to feel it as if it were your arm or something, or would it be numb? If you run out of durability on fused elytras, is that something you could ever fix? Would you be able to get a new pair if you hadn’t been fused yet? Would you have to try to cut off your old elytra to replace it if you *were* fused? So many questions (and no need to answer at all if you don’t feel like it but. I love this sort of stuff. That’s so cool! I have so many theories :))

For mutations, could you potentially *pick* how your elytra form to look on you? Like, if you tried to repair your elytra using a combination of some standard repair materials (phantom membranes, occasionally scales) as well as some other thing (like parrot feathers, for instance), could you possibly get the elytra to take on a form you’d prefer? Is it standard for everyone, or does it just assign you some sort of look to your wings (person A is butterfly, person B is dragon, etc.)? Sorry for all the parentheses. I have too many thoughts. I digress. If so, it’d be kinda fun seeing people change their wings as they grow or as their preferences change. People with parrot wings repairing with different colored feathers to ‘dye’ them in a sense, or some people mixing ingredients to get hybrid-looking elytra!

I like your endermen became endermen because of chorus fruits thing! I guess… if builders back in ye olden days managed to get to the end and LIVE, they’d have no real way back unless they defeated the dragon, so chorus fruit would be their only source! I think being in the end has gotta be weird, like in my head there’s zero wind or sounds, and the temperature is extremely neutral. Not hot or cold or anything, just kind of stagnant. Another alternative would be slightly chilly, but it might be less of a temperature thing and more of a ‘hey you’re in a different dimension, this isn’t normal’ sort of thing your body’s telling you. Eating a chorus fruit would be interesting, too! Teleporting? And it can also be popped! I feel like it’d have the texture of peaches or mushrooms, but after popping it you can make bricks out of it! What on earth sort of properties??? Idk, chorus fruit is neat though :)

I love your theories, so thank you for sharing!!! Your art rules???? That phantom design is so freaking sick????? I imagine them puffing up their wings like toothless from httyd trying to do that dance thing… silly babies, but the glowy markings help. I am also stealing Sage’s jammies, I love the kitties.

Anyways. Thank you for introducing Sage to me officially (as well as your blog) :). Hello, the both of you! Do you care for names/pronouns? Are phanon/invention alright? Cause I can start a tag for ya if you’d like!! I will throw art in your general direction too if you ever feel like it! Have a good day, I got a flight to catch!!

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

I Prefer My Heart To Be Broken, Chapter Seventeen: The Little Black Book

A tense reunion. A fearful flood. A surprising return.

AO3 | Playlist | Masterpost

-----

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE LITTLE BLACK BOOK

The King is just there, no smoke, no noise, and only the displacement of air to announce him.

Martin inhales and holds it. He wants to hurl himself on the King and try to tear him apart.

Yeah, that wouldn’t go well.

“You didn’t wait long,” Martin snaps into the silence, one hand on Jon’s arm.

“I am aware when I am wanted,” says the King in his horrible, piercing rumble, sounding so damned pleased.

Arthur doesn’t know what to do. He clearly doesn’t know what to do. He’s shifting, panting, half-standing, then sitting again, gripping the table as though he plans to either throw it or hide underneath.

Which makes sense, if he knows this is John Doe.

Martin can’t even imagine. What if he went somewhere that Jon went full monster? What if he landed in a place where Jon carried out his scary threat, and became… something else?

Belonged to someone else?

Martin swallows and tries to keep himself between the King and Jon. “Right. So. You need to answer some questions.”

“If you say so,” says Hastur, so gracious it makes Martin’s teeth hurt.

“What are you going to do if Jon finds your Arthur?”

“I have a body for him,” says the King.

Everyone is stunned.

You do? says John.

“It took me many years to craft it,” says the King in Yellow, tentacles waving languidly as if in deep current. “The hardest part was the brain.”

“You….” Arthur begins, and everyone goes still as he addresses this strange, alternate version of his person. “You didn’t just use the old body?”

“It was too damaged, and I had not the means to repair it then,” says the King, and he sounds regretful.

He actually may be regretful.

“But there’s nothing to fear,” says the King. “I’ve taken my time, using the humans of this world; I have dissected and studied every cell, every neuron, every aspect of their genome, every stray soul mooring, and I know how they work. Intimately. The body I have made for Arthur will be his own. I even used his DNA.”

“Well, isn’t that sexy as hell?” says Kayne, stepping out from behind Hastur.

Something in Martin’s soul tugs, and he gasps.

Terror rips through him.

He didn’t want to feel that connection.

Didn’t want to know Kayne could do that.

Didn’t want—

“You leave him alone!” Jon bellows, Jon roars, and everything turns to static.

#

It’s hard to quantify what just happened.

John sort of knows. The part of him that is, used to be, will always be a god, knows.

The part of him that lives in Arthur and restrains himself and will never hurt this fragile human flesh is fucking confused.

Other-Jon just… blew up? No. Expanded? No.

The Archivist just plugged into that flow of power inside him, and he did it with the singular goal of aiming himself at Kayne.

This will not work.

Kayne is too old, too big, too much—

And Jon is too new, and his aim immediately fails.

Power of some revealing, fear-building kind splashes through the room like someone dumped a bucket.

It is not John’s fear. It’s human fear, utterly alien, and the strangeness of it is worse than anything else as it neatly, perfectly, seamlessly paints over his own.

Kayne stops whatever he was doing to Martin with a shudder. Arthur cries out. Martin gasps, and turns to Jon.

Jon, who stares directly at Kayne, and whatever he’s doing is lifting his hair like electricity and sparking in his eyes like fire and leeching the color from everything but himself.

The very air turns to fear, the ground beneath them to terror.

“There’s no need for that,” says Hastur, calmly, too calmly, disturbingly serene in the middle of all of this as though he’d seen it coming. “He will not take your lover, Jon. I guarantee it.”

“Fuck you, I wont,” Kayne laughs.

But Jon… believes Hastur, and that, perhaps, is where all of this was going, all along.

The power fades. The invasion retreats; Jon’s hair settles down, and his eyes stop glowing, and his cells stop vibrating with unreleased horror.

John is still trembling, though. The fear, wielded like a spear, is beyond violational. It is cruel, and personal, and deep.

It’s not natural to him, but that made no difference.

Overwritten, he thinks.

John is panting.

Arthur is panting.

“Jon?” says Martin, barely audible.

Hastur sounds fucking pleased, and his rumble is too big to ever be called a purr. “And here, I’d feared we were moving too soon.”

“Was that really what all this was for, Hastur?” says Jon, low. “All of this, to get your person back?”

“Can you not relate?” says Hastur, who speaks without shame, and John can see the appeal. “You had to stop fighting that which loves you—that which empowers you. Otherwise, when you step through the way you have made, you will simply die.”

“Maybe I can do it. I don't know,” says Jon. “But I’ll tell you what I do know: you’d better tell your fucking dog that if he takes Martin from me, I will not stop there. I will rip through any reality he takes him to, and he thinks he’ll like that, but he won’t. By the time I’m done, the only thing Nyarlathotep will be able to foment is his own damned screams.”

There is a moment of silence on the edge of the world.

A moment of reverence for Martin Blackwood, who inspired such love that the one who chose him would destroy everything to keep him safe.

A moment of horror, because Kayne surely would not respond with kindness.

And he doesn’t. “Oh,” Kayne says so quietly, and there is a thrum, a  weirdness under the floor like a boulder rolling near. “Oh, I hate you so much.”

“Stop it,” says Hastur—and it is a command.

It’s a horrible feeling. A choked feeling, a closing of airways and vision and sound, and whatever this binding is that forces Kayne to obey that which is lesser is unpleasant and unnatural and crude.

But it holds.

Kayne bends over, hands on his knees, panting—and whatever esoteric nonsense is happening to make him appear so human even now, John doesn’t think he wants to know.

Then Kayne looks up and meets Jon’s eyes. “I’m going to enjoy ripping you to tiny, shrieking shreds, over and over again, and you are going to let me because of him.” He points at Martin.

“I’m not, I,” Martin squeaks.

John is still shaken, and so was not prepared for Arthur to suddenly step forward and address the King. “John,” he says. “I want my daughter back.”

Kayne gasps dramatically and covers his mouth with his hands. “You did not.”

Yet another utterly fraught moment of tension and pain and the unknown, and how many more of these can they have before they all just explode?

Hastur hesitates. “Arthur. If the Archivist finds Faroe, I am going to give her to my Arthur.”

And Arthur feels stabbed.

Right through, through the heart, through the soul and spirit.

He makes one soft, inhaling sound, and goes still. If anything so much as nudges him, he’ll sob.

Hastur sounds almost… vulnerable. “I will… I… will see you outfitted. When you return to your home, you will have tools. Perhaps she will no longer be out of reach to you there.”

“Wh… what? You will?” says Arthur.

“As best I can.”

So that’s what he sounds like when he’s actually being gentle, John thinks.

Jon, meanwhile, is staring at Martin. “Did I hurt you?” he whispers.

“Not… not much, it’s fine,” says Martin with enormous eyes. “Just… it was a lot.”

So now Jon looks like he’s about to have a breakdown. “Fuck,” he whispers. “I can’t aim it, maybe.”

“Aim it? Jon!” Martin whispers back.

If John had a face to smack in exasperation, he would.

Panicked, Martin points at Kayne. “Does he have to be here?” he asks the King.

“No, not particularly. It merely seemed fitting,” says the King. “After all, one should be present for one’s own defeat. Besides—he owes a favor, I believe.”

Kayne rolls his eyes so hard there is a sound. “Sure. Whatever. Oh, by the way,” he says, producing a small piece of wood, and begins carving an obscene shape with a knife. “You do realize if you actually managed to remove the Fears from you (which will just kill you, in all probability), you wouldn’t have all these powers anymore?” He smiles. “Sssstripped! Boom, done.”

“Shit,” whispers Martin.

“Oh, yes,” says Kayne, eyes fixed on Martin, and it is an eager, glinting look, polished obsidian in the dark. “He’ll be helpless. Trust me, cupcake. You’re going to learn to love it.”

That’s our knife, says John.

Because it is. The one Martin had used to stab Jon. The one with Arthur’s blood.

“Give me the damned knife!” Arthur bellows.

Arthur! John warns.

Kayne snorts. “Wow. Do you want me to stab you? ‘Give me the damned knife, hur-de-hur!’ But, no. Too easy. I won’t even consider it your favor. Here you go, kitten.” He tosses it.

The knife, stained and dark, clangs and slides across the floor, incredibly loud.

Arthur crouches and feels for it. He’s a mess. He’s in turmoil.

John can’t see why he wanted it so badly. Fuck, he thinks.

And then Martin says, “Jon, what are you doing?” because Jon has the book.

The one wrapped in Hastur’s skin.

The one that yelled at him before.

The one that makes people go mad.

But he isn’t reading it. He’s holding it, frowning at it.

And whatever is happening, it’s making his eyes glow green.

“That’s just cheating,” says Kayne with great cheer. “No fair. I wanted to see him go crazy, just a little.”

“Jon?” says Martin.

“It’s connected,” says Jon, which could mean anything.

Everybody stares at him now (except Arthur, but he certainly does look that direction).

“What’s connected? Jon, you’re scaring me,” says Martin.

“You’re ready,” says Hastur, eager, low, his limbs undulating faster.

Martin suddenly has a horrible feeling.

It’s too like what happened with Jonah—not that he’d been there, but he’d read the damned letter after.

You are marked. You are ready.

“Jon,” he says.

“I can do this,” whispers Jon, and his hair is beginning to rise again, like static.

“Jon!” Martin grabs him by the shoulders and shakes once, sharply.

Jon doesn’t look up. His gaze is fixed on Kayne’s black book, clutched in his white-knuckled hand. “I need to go,” he says. “I feel… it’s like a shining thread, but it’s moving. If I lose sight of it—”

“Bet he can’t wait to set his eyes on the place. The great and dead unknown, never before seen,” drawls Kayne, and Martin knows damn well he just poured fuel on the fire.

Jon looks up at something absolutely no one else can see, and the room goes gray.

Sound dims. Color disappears, vanishing outward from him as if it’s being sucked away.

Martin can’t move. Flashbacks of a Scottish sky going red and serrated, flashbacks of fluffy cows turning to carnivores with red eyes and lowing. Flashbacks of his race back to the safe house, to Jon on the floor, surrounded by broken glass.

Flashbacks—of Jon in his arms, who, until he finally got himself under control and reached that place of constantly fighting, had irises that glowed that flickering green.

It’s the book.

The book wrapped in the skin of a dead god.

“It’s calling him,” Martin says, and embraces him. Tight. So tight, tight enough to make him creak, even as Jon peers over Martin’s shoulder at something no one else can see. “Come back to me. Jon. Don’t do this. Jon! Jon!”

Jon stirs. “I….” He’s breathing hard. “Martin?”

“Look away! Jon!”

Jon gives Martin an absolutely terrified look. “It’s got me,” he whispers.

“I’ve got you!” Martin cries. “Look at me! Just at me!”

“Mister Blackwood,” rumbles the King, low, his growl rising like some terrible quicksand. “Your invitation is revoked.”

“Aww, is that my cue?” says Kayne. and he surges at them.

#

It happens so fast.

John knows what he sees, is capable of seeing it and understanding it on some crucial level, but he has no ability to protect Arthur from the fallout.

Kayne lunges—

And the Archivist manifests a tidal wave between them, loaded with so much fear that though it has no power to actually stop anything, Kayne makes a sound like a hurricane and retreats.

Fear splashes everywhere, hits everyone, and Martin cries out, and the King cries out, and Arthur cries out, and John—

John realizes he had definitely spent too little time considering just how it was the Archivist had any self-control at all if he’d been relying on his extinguished human will.

He would have had no control—and he clearly had some.

Which means Jon still has his human will.

He shouldn’t. Wasn’t possible. The very process of deification should make it gone, burned out, extinguished.

But The Archivist also has a current (power terror transformation) from beings made of human fear flowing within him, and one of those beings loves Jon like itself.

Emulsifier, is all John can think, because he sees that human will and inhuman power merged in a smooth and perfect mixture that simply should not be, and that’s happening because somehow, when Jon was made, the thing that loves him protected those parts of him from being destroyed.

Foolish. Short-sighted. Should have resulted in the death of the Beholding’s Beloved.

But it didn’t.

Like John Doe’s mad gamble centuries before to bind Kayne and destroy the old King, it should not have worked.

But it did.

The Archivist has power, which John showed him how to use.

Jon has his will, and the Beholding makes it strong.

So little time has passed that Martin has blinked only once.

Kayne tries again.

He is no longer remotely human, impossible to look at without eye-bleeds and insanity, and Kayne surges forward in growing and bulbous and ravening form.

John has just long enough to think, if this keeps happening, we’re all going to go mad with fear, but the Archivist doesn’t do what he did last time.

The power is cleaner, and it isn’t a wave, not a liquid, not a splashing, loose-edged thing of mayhem and mess. Instead, it’s a huge and monstrous maw.

Now, John doesn’t know what the fuck he sees.

He feels Arthur react, though, respond to this thing (Hunt, that’s the Hunt, that is the actual Hunt taking form by Jon’s will and the Beholding’s love and the Web’s fucked-up exaltation), and he tries to lunge toward it.

It’s like nothing John has ever felt. Arthur is terrified but drawn, desperate to get away and yet choosing to join.

John grabs the table with his left hand, and Arthur’s entire body jolts off its feet with the force of his aborted leap.

That’s all the time it took. The jaws (invisible but tangible, unseen yet imprinted on the back of everybody’s eyelids) chomp down on Kayne, who would absolutely be able to get away but for his thoroughly understandable surprise.

And then Jon shoves Martin to the right, leaps to the left, and takes Kayne with him into the Dark World.

There’s a moment of silence, of gasps, and shudders.

Martin screams.

#

Arthur groans.

He feels like he got hit with a blackjack. His heart pounds, and his hands throb.

And he remembers being called.

There’s nothing formed in this memory. Nothing solid, nothing in color, no images; but in that moment, undeniable, inescapable, his heart no longer hurt.

And it’s strange. He doesn’t feel like he forgot Faroe, but… it’s worse than if he had.

The nebulous memory came with a dose of fear so strong that his mouth still tastes like pennies, and yet, it was glorious. It was beautiful. Perfect fear, casting out love.

He can't deal with this now. Nope. Maybe not ever.

“John?” he wheezes, desperate to focus on anything else, and then realizes there is a fight.

Arthur, he says. Fuck, I was worried. But shh—they’re arguing.

“Get the tapes!” Martin is saying, loud, demanding, to the King in Yellow.

“I have no tapes, Mister Blackwood,” says the King.

“Don’t lie to me! You owe him that! After what you put him through, put us all through!”

For fuck’s sake, Hastur, John is saying. What harm can it possibly do? Give him the damn tapes.

Tapes?

Him?

What?

“Do you truly expect me to hand over my last bargaining chip, John?” says the King, serene.

“Don’t do this,” Martin says. “I’ve lost him so many times. You said so many times how special he was, but you won’t even give this one stupid thing that costs you nothing!”

“And if Kayne destroys them the moment he returns?” says the King. “They are not mere sound. I don’t know how the Web recorded Jon’s essence on those tapes, but she did. Even if I recreated them, they would not have the same power. No; no, I think I’d rather keep them safe in case of some emergency.”

“This is an emergency!” Martin bellows.

John sighs.

The King’s tone does not gentle. “Besides, I have no way to deliver them to your lover. Until Jon comes back, they’d just be sitting out, vulnerable.”

“I don’t want them delivered! He’ll need help to find his way back!”

“This is unlike the coffin of your past, Mister Blackwood. The situation is different—and your lover is changed.”

Martin sounds bad. He’s almost unable to speak. “You don’t even care. All those pretty words, and they were lies.”

“Mister Blackwood, I am hardly trying to harm your lover. The fact is that Jon does not understand how remarkable he is—and neither do you. He can do this.”

“He’s in there with Kayne!” Martin cries.

“Kayne is trapped. He needs a way to get out.”

“So what?”  says Martin.

“Without Jon, he can’t get out, any more than I could get in. I don’t think he’ll kill him.”

“But he can hurt him.” Martin’s voice breaks.

“I will repair any damages,” says the King.

“If he does what you want,” says Martin, who’s no fool. “And if he doesn’t, you’ll throw him back in like shoving a man who’s drowning back underwater.”

Silence for a moment. “Mister Blackwood. Have you misunderstood the situation?”

“I think I’ve understood it better than you.”

“As I recall, you said you didn’t care what other universes suffered as long as you could save your lover,” the King casually says. “So perhaps, in your infinite human wisdom, you could be… a little more kind.”

Asshole, thinks Arthur.

Arthur, warns John.

“That’s not fair,” Martin says, quieter.

“I think it is,” says the King.

So all of this is awful.

Immovable object meets irresistible force, Arthur thinks.

Are you all right?

“Fuck, John,” Arthur says, louder. “What tapes? What are they for?” He tries to sit up, and nausea immediately proves that a bad idea.

They’re tape recordings of the Archivist’s voice, or something. Martin thinks they’ll help his Jon get back from the Dark World.

Arthur whistles, low.

Martin doesn’t answer. It sounds like he’s pacing.

The King in Yellow sighs. “Arthur. You’ve concussed yourself again.”

He’s fine, snarls John.

Arthur props himself on one elbow and turns his face toward the King’s voice.

Toward… John’s voice. Other-John.

Not his John, sure—but still John.

“John,” he says, not addressing the one in his head. “Will the tapes help?”

“I do not believe they will accomplish anything,” says Hastur, but now…

Now, he sounds less sure.

“They’re… so you’re saying they’re….” Arthur is having trouble with words.

Hastur sighs again.

Thick, warm limbs lift Arthur from the floor, and he remembers.

Suddenly, sharply. Remembers Hastur doing this before, remembers being cradled, being… healed.

“You must be more careful, Arthur,” says Hastur, low and warm. He slides one hand over Arthur’s head, and the ache goes away.

“Thanks.” He can’t recall the conversation when this happened before, but that’s not what matters.

What does is this is not the King.

Not the one who’ll never be forgiven.

Not the one Arthur would leap into hell for if it meant he could drag him there himself.

Arthur has not been put down.

He’s not asking to be.

Better? says John, grumpy, probably because of the whole not-put-down thing.

“Yes,” says Arthur.

The way this feels…

So right. Safe. Good.

It is a choice to remain still, not to panic, not to thrash—but not a hard choice. It’s still John, no matter how much he’d fucked himself up.

“I know I’m not yours,” Arthur says, verbally processing. “You’re not mine, either. But you know what? Before we split, before that fixed point, whatever it was, you were mine, and I was yours.”

Everyone is silent.

“Yes,” Hastur finally says.

“Do the tapes really not matter?”

“I don’t know,” says the King.

“Is their destruction really the concern here?” says Arthur.

A moment of silence. Hastur sounds like he’s smiling. “You’re being clever, I see.”

“I’m not being clever. I’m walking a mile in someone else’s shoes. You can make brains, for fuck’s sake, and you’re going to tell me you haven’t already reverse-engineered the fuck out of those tapes?”

Martin goes still.

The King chuckles. “Ah, I’ve missed you.”

“If you really did, you’d give a damn how Martin feels right now,” says Arthur. “I don’t expect you to care about me, but you’ve got to care a little about him.”

“I do. I intend to keep them together,” says the King.

“Then you know what the right thing to do is.”

“I… Arthur. Your understanding of the situation is simplistic and new. You don’t understand the complexities—”

“I understand his heart just maybe got lost forever in the Dark World, and he thinks those tapes can help,” says Arthur. “I understand he’s yelling at a terrifying monster god because he’s so afraid for him. I understand I’d be doing the same thing, if not worse.” Arthur smiles crookedly. “Let’s be honest. I’d be trying to punch you in the eye, or something. Stupid.”

“Quite stupid,” agrees the King with a low purr that rumbles the room.

“The way I see it, Jon’s going to manage it, or he won’t. Will the tapes matter to that?” says Arthur. “Will they at least comfort Martin?”

“You are trying to be reasonable with me because I have promised you aid,” the King deflects. “Or perhaps to gain more of it. But you are not my Arthur. I am hardly the John you know. My answer remains unchanged.”

Arthur takes Hastur’s nearest limb in his right hand. “I fucking was, for fuck’s sake. Look, you want another reason? How about this—when the other me comes back, if he finds out about any of this, how’s he going to react to the whole tape thing?”

Hastur stares.

Oh, Arthur, says John.

“Perhaps,” says Hastur very slowly, “you have a point. Maybe it is to my advantage to provide the—”

Kayne suddenly comes bursting out of nowhere, tearing between them at top speed.

And right behind him, the King in Yellow’s dead, eaten, other half comes flying after, and attacks.

(part eighteen)

NOTES

Jon, what are you DOING.

Also, Arthur? Well done, my man. Pity the Zombie!King decided to interrupt.

[vampacidic]

YES YOU CAN BE A NATURE GIRL!! Basically there was this youtube trend going around where people were like "Guess this twisted wonderland character's name / unique magic" but a lot of them were having their parents guess and so in one video this person had their mom and dad guess, one half of the cast was for their mom and the other for their dad, when it got to their dad's side he thought they were all girls

Jade is surrounded by mushrooms (She is a big fan of those) so with this knowledge he called her "Nature girl" so thank you to that very confused father because now I see Jade as transfem.

She ran away from octavinelle once because she was being very petty and so was Azul so she goes to pomefiore and tells Vil she's going be his faithful servant from now on. Vil is like.. okay.. interesting. So Vil bosses her around and turns her into an errand girl, after serving Vil for a while she's like. "Vil, I have decided I am going to work with Azul again. I am no longer mad at him. Peace!" AND I COULDN'T STOP LAUGHING THAT IS SO STUPID. SHE TRIED SO HARD TO PROVE HERSELF TO VIL JUST TO GET AWAY FROM AZUL. EVEN GOING THROUGH THE ACT OF TRYING TO CHANGE DORMS, and I can't exactly remember everything Vil asked Jade to do but it was getting to a point where Vil would ask Jade for the simplest of things that Vil was PERFECTLY capable of getting done on her own. Jade did this all with a smile. She is SO SILLY. My friends are very big leech twin enjoyers but one likes Floyd and the other likes Jade so I sat in a call with them while they argued about who was the superior twin. Fun times. ( I love both of them, Floyd was actually the final push I needed to start reading through the whole main story. So thank you for that buddy!!) Fun fact I actually have a Vil plushy.. she is big and I love her. I get into my room and look at her and I tell her how important she is to me. DEAR I AM RAMBLING ON. I will confirm though, Azul is very guy and no matter how hard I try he does not leave my head. I love him though and I wouldn't have it any other way. For the question you asked I was actually thinking about this, you can just call me Light.. I'm not very good with names so I just chose the easiest option. Thank you for asking about twst though I love this game lots.. giving you so many kisses right now!! (Also please feel free to ramble about anything you want to with me I would love to hear it)

IM TELLING YOU ALL MALE GACHA CASTS LOOK LIKE LESBIANS!!!!! the dad was right she's a girl. 2 me ❤️ jade's so real for being a mushroom enjoyer... i used to be big into mushrooms and then i did some poking about decay and uhh. well now they freak me out a bit if i think about it too long but i still like them a lot.... decay exists as an extant form of life etc etc

don't feel bad about rambling i really enjoy it... you get very impassioned light dear and it's nice to hear you go on :] twst is one of those games where i Know it's right up my alley but my brain is like ummmmm. no you will not open it and play ❤️ sorry ❤️ but maybe i'll start soon... maybe you're my push hon. (the only hesitance is this makes it very easy for me to spend money at cons bc twst is so big..... sighs)

jade seems funny though.... she has ummm a je ne se quois to her. i feel like she'd eat me but not on purpose just in a oopsy i bit too hard way. not that i'd say no to it. she's a little bimbo ish it's ok. i love stupid women ❤️ i love siblings with the worst shit imaginable going on ❤️❤️

OH my friend acfually has a malleus plushie... waves Hi kyo if you see this. i have no idea if she consumes twst at all actually but like. uhhh twinsies...? can our giant vil and rei plushies be best friends

light sounds good to me... maybe i'll pick something more fun in the future when i'm not so tired lol.... i'm answering this before i go to bed ehehe.... hehe i'm accepting all of your kisses gracefully!!!

oh but my interests.... they're ummm. eclectic ? some of them are incredibly scholarly and then there's enstars. sighs. no idea how much you know about enstars love but i've been stuck w it for. nearly 3 years now....? give or take. my beloved idol gacha game. but other than that i play a uh. range of video games.... i've been trying to chuck through hades but i'm incredibly bad at it LMAO asterius and theseus are beating my ass. i've gotten to 3rd form(???) of hades before but never beyond that.... sigh. i'll make it through one day. other than that i like uh. final fantasy here and there + horror games despite how easily terrified i am. i wouldn't say i'm a horror buff but i do love the genre... big psych horror enjoyer. i also like writing and drawing here and there but most of my art has gone to class recently.... other than games and such i have my more uh. scholarly interests ? i like biochemistry a lot (of course you have autism and like science) and i have what i like to call 'history blorbos' whcih are guys i have a weird obsession w. this includes vladimir lenin, mao zedong, rasputin, and karl marx. no idea what makes me obsessed w them but you know. shit happens. history as a whole makes me go insane.... 20th century in particular. love the russian revolution + ww2 specifically but all of the 20th century is insane to me. also really like language (im teaching myself jp and am uhhhh. semi fluent in spanish. k can scrape by verbally) and to an extent religion.... i like catholicism from an aesthetic point but as an american raised in a catholic school it's uhhhhhh. Interesting relationship w religion esp w regards to my gender/sexuality.... i like dissection stuff like that. can you tell i have autism. i'm more than willing to detail just about any of this stuff if interested bc hooooo boy do i love to talk about my interests. light honey i hope you have a good night!!! mwah mwah my darling <3

[wordsgood]

this long post is originally posted on my writing blog, random pattern generator.

I don’t remember where, but I came across some article about how to write blog posts if you’re trying to grow your authorial platform. Of course you have to write about writing, but, according to the article, no one wants to read about what you’re writing. You have to write advice posts for the readers, instead.

I might have advice that people would want to hear if I already had a book or two published, or if I already had some kind of platform. But since I don’t have either of those things, what do I have to give anyone besides the kind of generic advice that thirty people have already written about in actual books about writing, and that 300 people have already blogged about for free? Characterization, in media res, save the cat, five tips to make your villain more formidable? I don’t have anything of substance to add to these conversations. I’m not a beginner by any means, but I haven’t achieved the kind of success that would make me qualified to advise anyone.

Except, maybe, in one area: the “does my writing really matter?” area. Not that I’m hugely successful there, either, but I’ve gotten over a pretty rough dry spell in the past few years. I thought I’d lost my calling for good, but here I am, a year or two later, keeping a spreadsheet of my various WIPs’ daily word counts. That’s a comeback story of sorts. That might count for something.

I don’t think it would be honest of me to comfort anyone, though.

The thing about having this question - “am I worthy of this craft that I love?” - leeching uncertainty, self-hatred, and lethargy into your atmosphere is that, in my experience, no one can answer it for you. It makes you think you need validation from other people. And, of course, it never hurts to have people in your corner; you may need other people’s words to keep you hydrated while you cross the desert. But no one can carry you across. There is no Sam Gamgee for this particular trek. It’s just you and whatever god you own.

You can receive the kindest, most well-meaning, supportive words, and there’s every chance in the world that they’ll dry up in your ears before they can ever reach your head. The Question has locked you up like a princess in a castle or Amontillado in the wall or Ariel in the pine and there might not be anything that can reach you until you erase the question mark for yourself.

I won’t pretend that’s easy. It took me a long time and a couple very hard conversations before I finally got out of the desert.

Right here is where the script dictates: But I broke through anyway. All it took was trying hard enough, long enough - I will not elucidate what ‘trying’ means; Just Do It - and now I’m free and happy and whenever I doubt myself now I just look back on how I beat The Question already and it doesn’t have any power over me anymore, and all you need to do is keep trying, too, like me.

This is where I’m supposed to say, It’s hard work, but it’s worth the effort.

Screw that. It wasn’t worth the effort. Nothing is worth how much and how long I let The Question hurt me and hold me down. I’m not far enough out of the desert to pretend like I’m fine now, that it doesn’t still hurt even when I’m finishing novels and getting my 1-5 kudos per week on AO3. Some part of me died in the desert and it’s not coming back.

So, no, I’m not going to tell you - should you be uncertain, desperate, hurting, empty, any or all of the above - that I think your pain is only temporary or that your struggle is worth it. If that’s what you need to hear, you can find other people who will be happy to pass on that message. If you need to hear that all you’ve got to do is just keep trying, just keep going, just keep hoping and believing, you’ve come to the wrong place. When I was in the desert, hearing that kind of encouragement was the opposite of encouraging. I was tired. I had already spent months or years trying, going, hoping. I’m sure, now, that the effort wasn’t made in vain, but hearing that I had to keep trying to get where I wanted to be - well, there’s an or else hidden at the end of that sentence. That was the encouragement of someone who’d already made it out of the desert and was floating by in a hot air balloon, having forgotten how it felt to have your feet in the sand and a sword over your head. Keep going, or else. I’m not a child, I wanted to tell them. I’m no writing noob. What do you think I’ve been doing but trying? What else have I been sobbing over my keyboard about?

Here’s the only thing that gave me an inch of peace: T.S. Eliot and the book of Leviticus.

T.S. Eliot may be obvious - I’ve already made at least a couple blog posts about how I basically live my creative life by Four Quartets - but Leviticus is a little newer. Not the whole of the book, but, specifically, the concept of the year of Jubilee, every fiftieth year, the year of release. And specifically the part of the year of Jubilee that deals with letting fields lay unsown. You let the land alone. You let it lie fallow. Don’t touch a spade or toss a seed. “It shall be holy to you”: a holy abandonment.

You can try for as long as you can hold out, but you may well reach a point at which it doesn’t matter. The tank is empty, the field is dry, the stone is out of blood. You have to stop trying or you’ll break something vital, like a bone or your faith in yourself.

You know what’s coming now:

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love, For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting. Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning. The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry, The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony Of death and birth.

Darkness and stillness will be the light and the dancing. Your neurons will flash again in the darkness and your thoughts will dance again in the stillness. The seed will grow when it’s buried like the dead.

That’s what got me across the line in the sand: the idea that I didn’t have to keep trying. I didn’t have to prove what I was or what I wanted. My God knew that already; in some deep place, so did I. None of that mattered, though, when I had given all I had to give. Some people may be, but I am not a bottomless well, and I’d drunk myself dry. I didn’t need to try harder or work longer; I needed to exist without effort, so that the well could refill. I needed to wait, not with hopelessness, but without hope. Even hope takes up precious energy that you need just to put one foot in front of the other.

I needed to spend months doing crafts with my hands, reading books and watching movies and shows and listening to music and looking at nature, not trying to write. I didn’t need platitudes about how everything would eventually work out, because that would be hope for the wrong thing. I needed rest. I needed to lie fallow.

That’s the thing about The Question. Am I worthy of this craft that I love? cannot and will not be answered definitively by other people. It can barely be answered by you. If you thought the answer was yes, you wouldn’t be asking. If the answer were no, you wouldn’t be doing your craft. (I’m talking about writing for myself, but I’m sure people have asked themselves The Question for every conceivable calling or career.) But if you’re asking The Question of yourself, you’re tired and scared and in pain, your faith is flagging, because you’re driving on close to empty. You’re asking because you want the answer to be yes but you don’t have it in you to believe it.

I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to believe it, or even try to. Your craft will outlive you; it will not cease to be when you let it go. For whatever it’s worth, you’ve got my permission not to be graceful about your fallowing; you don’t have to look starry-eyed to the future or speak of “this season of difficulty” or whatever the religious or self-care language might be this month. Forget your craft. Forget writing. Screw it. You shouldn’t feel obligated to enjoy this time, or make it Instagrammable or TikTokable. It sucks. End of sentence. It can feel like the ending of your life and I don’t believe in guilting people into feeling optimistic or positively about such things.

I’m not here to tell you that you’ll get everything back twice over, that you’ll look back on this time and laugh and be grateful, that you need to do or prepare for anything, that you’ll one day float back over the desert in a hot air balloon as a wiser, more enlightened individual. If you’re asking, Will I ever write again? or When does the creative urge come back? I’m not going to say, Oh, of course it will, just be patient, it’ll come back one day. Just keep going. I don’t know you, I don’t know your life or your future. Maybe it won’t. Maybe that chapter is closed for you. Weigh the possibility in your mind; what’s your reaction? Fear, relief, agony, all of the above? It doesn’t matter. Your emotions will most likely not be a good compass to follow. That, in some way, is the point: there’s no good compass at all. We all drive by the light of our grubby headlights.

What I do believe, even at my lowest point, for myself and for you, is that no love is ever wasted. If you’ve loved your craft, if you still do even in the desert, even in the stillness and the darkness, then it wasn’t and isn’t for no reason. Whether you find your way back to your craft or you move on to something else once you’re out of the desert, you’ll carry what you learned and how you loved either way, and there is always value in that.

I’m taking your face in my hands and repeating it until you believe it: love is never wasted. Neither is time in the desert. I’m not saying that you should try to find some amorphous beauty in a painful time, that if you aren’t grateful for it or productive through it then you aren’t suffering properly and thus don’t deserve what you want, but I am saying that the dry spells don’t disqualify you from your craft. They are, unfortunately, a part of the creative life. Will you ever write, paint, animate, carve again? Maybe, maybe not, I’m not going to make you empty promises. But a yellow light isn’t a stop sign, and the struggle may well be temporary. You won’t know until you do.

That’s my anti-advice for those who may be struggling with their art: it might be your fiftieth year. It may be time to stop trying so hard. It might be time to do a Yoga With Adriene or two and see if candle-making is for you. It might be time to write three thousand angry, bitter blog posts about how it feels like you’ve spent your life thus far on a hopeless dream. Drop your pen, your paintbrush, your needle, your sculpting tools, your power tools. Let your soul grow wild; let your well refill. Don’t tell yourself that the art will be back, don’t hope for the wrong thing, don’t let internet platitudes and toxic positivity convince you to spend energy you don’t have.

Breathe.

Sit.

Wait.

No matter the answer you find at the end of the desert, love will wait with you.

[reptileranting]

Mijira- Chapter 2

There we go- another chapter. Sorry to keep you waiting. CW: Gore, Fantasy Racism, Bug eating, Cannibalism It was a snowy autumn night outside the tavern. Inside, the dwarves on stone tables and wooden chairs loomed over the mushroom wine and root soup and brooded over the day that had passed. The aroma mixed with the earthy, pungent smell of dwarf grease and animal fat, smothering the cave. The only release was the small hearth before which a small, reptilian creature swung two hollowed out beetles on a rattle‘s stick. The „Razz“ musician’s clunking, free style rhythms reverberated through the inn‘s domed stone ceiling, earning the scornful gaze of the residents. It wasn‘t bad music. But it reminded them of what they’d consider better, dwarven music.

 Then the door creaked open slowly, revealing a massive frame that ill fit into the narrow cave. The guests shrunk away from the shadow‘s monstrous form. Hushed whispers filled the room. A drake. Always bad news. Always trouble. Like grass in the wind, the drinkers in its wake. The creature, with scales like scorched earth and clad in iron taken from all lords’ countries, stomped to the fire, leaning its tall and wide body against the hearth. Its yellow eyes grazed the room, wandering with an unknowable expression. Silence choked the inn until the barkeep, small for even her kind, shouted from across the counter.

“Now there, you gonna order or you gonna leech heat and scare the customers?”

 “Soup.” the warrior replied, her voice uneven, gravely but vibrating with a sonorous strength.

“Not that good with words, eh? You're gonna get it from here once it’s done. Not gonna scare the barmaids into an early grave.”

“Fine, Mijira needs to sit down for it, anyway.” The tavern owner hurried off, shouting commands into the kitchen. “Gonna be ready soon enough. Just wait. And don’t be weird!”

The stranger gave no reply and pressed herself against the hearth’s wall. The Finns covering her ear holes perked slightly up as the drakeling razz musician continued his performance. The small green creature reached a loud part in the improvisation. The she-drake snorted and he turned to face her. No eye contact, so he didn’t want to assert his dominance. Neither did she. She opened in the dragons’ tongue. “Your play pleases Mijira, small one. Can you talk and perfom?” He nodded. “Good. For I don’t think these people will talk to me.”

The patrons exchanged meaningful glances and some cautious snickers between each other. She could smell the fear rising from the inngoers as the two of them exchanged a series of hissing and clicking noises.

“Any work for a sellsword around these parts? Mijira wandered the whole dwarven realm in search for work, found nothing and her funds are starting to dry up” 

“I am sorry, miss, but the times are peaceful. The casteless had a mutiny recently but that business is over.”

“Not even as an adventurer or something? They don’t need someone supervising and beating up their shitshovelers now?”

“It does not seem so. Now the bureaucrats gotta have detachments from the military castes with them, whenever they go somewhere dangerous. Paid by the king, too.”

She let out a discontent snarl. “Makes sense, just not for Mijira. Do you have a guess as to how the king ever managed to browbeat the military into this? It’s not what they consider glorious.”

“A good question. They say he’s made some changes to the courts, got some new personnel, but that’s the extent of my knowledge.”

“Not like Mijira can make him change his mind, can she? Anyway, Mijira’s thanks for your music and answers so far, bard. What is your na-“ 

“Soup!” the barkeep yelled.

“Mijira’ll be there for you in a moment.” She threw the drakeling a silver and some copper coins. „There you go.“ Bobbing their head, the bard uncorked their rattle. They let the silver and two of the copper coins fall in and resumed the play. The barbarian bobbed their head in acknowledgement and turned around. 

The barkeep set down the plate with a resounding whack. Like with all good dwarven artisanry, neither the dinnerware nor the table suffered any ill from it. Mijira stared at the insect plates swimming along the broken down vegetables.

 Her tongue flickered out, taking in the salty vapors and pungent smell of roots broken down into edibility by hours of cooking. She eyed the sprinkler filled with lead shavings nearby. A fool’s choice. Yes, the taste would be more bearable, but the metal always brought one to bad decisions. If you weren’t a dwarf, that is. There was only way through a dwarven meal- charging in.

She closed her eyes, gagged and lifted the bubbling plate up, pouring it into her open mouth. Like water down the drain, the food disappeared without a single gulp. With a snapping sound and another gag, she closed her mouth, small wafts of steamescaping the nostrils.

The dwarfs stared at her in disgust and -belief.She shoved some coins the barkeeps way and wanted to make her way back to the fire. But as she turned aroundm she bumped into something. One dwarven specimen, clean shaven but ash covered, that was small for even their kin.

„Watch where you‘re going, you fucking turt..le.“ He snarled, casting an angry glance at her.

“No harm intended.“ The drake growled. 

To the dwarf, the creature remained motionless and answered in a deadened monotone. Not so to the bard. Her tail and posture shifted, slouching down. The sharp scent of anger rose in his nose. But more worrying was the musty stench that the dwarf’s ashen odor barely held back. Potent, it was. Dark. Simmering, sizzling. Ready to burst. He remembered the face and smell of his benefactor and stowed the coin laden rattles.

The scenery of the dwarf’s face was undergoing a rapid tectonic change. The white snowcaps of the sooty and cracked skin melted as volcanic veins burned red underneath. The rage accrued from living a privileged middle aged live could no longer be contained by the plug of godly morals. 

„NO HARM INTENDED?

NO

HARM

INTENDED.

DO YOU KNOW THE KINDS OF EMOTIONAL DAMAGES YOUR MERE EXISTENCE INFLICTS ON US? 

“You come to our tavern, eat our food and use your elven gold to pay the decadent wild man music this degenerate runt inflicts on us! How dare you tramble our values? How dare you spit into the face of everything that is good and decent? How dare you? HOW. DARE. YOU?”

The drakeling cringed away from the scene, his possessions in hand. But before he could get far, something heavy and fast rammed into him. His gear flew to the ground, scattering about. Another dwarf, cleaner then the other and dressed in the ostentatious clothes of a jeweler towered over him. Already, he pilfered the rattle and coin purse of the razz player with manic speed, stuffing it into sack.. “Help! I am being robbed by these reptiles!” He screamed.

In seconds, the bard was grabbed by the bystanders, as all eyes were on the source of the commotion now. Boos, slurs and outraged curses erupted from the citizens.

Before either Mijira or the bard could act, the smith decked the drake in the stomach. With a wheeze, she staggered back. And then a third, broader dwarf  tackled her legs from behind, throwing her down. The two jumped her, the metalworker battering her with fists, the other hammering a barstool into her stomach.

The drakeling screamed, twitching and trying to escape. But against the vice grip of dwarves, his twig-like limbs did no good. “Thief!” “Drakerunt!” “Stealing from honest dwarfs!” An old song. He stopped struggling, freezing like prey before the hunter as a cold sense of futility crept into him. The punches hit like an avalanche. Before long, darkness clouded his vision. Mijira, still struggling, roared with rage as the barstool raced towards her head.

And then, a plopping sound of air giving way as if a bottle of wine had been opened turned the heads away from the bard and onto her. The barstool, with explosive speed, was flung to the room and shattered into thousands of pieces. The broad dwarf, however, screamed in bone chilling agony and clasped his right arm. The drake had bitten it half of. Now, it swung wildly around. Blood sprayed everywhere as dying nerves send inconsequential cries for help. 

Both her assailants recoiled in horror as the beast jumped onto the belly of the other and sunk her razor sharp teeth into it, biting down on the intestines again and again. The rest of the tavern screamed out in horror. A desperate race out of the tavern ensued as blood red guts flew about and the agonized shrieks of the would-be attacker died.

Mijira idly watched the fleeing dwarves, recovering from her rage and the beating she took. Slowly rising up, she swallowed the bits of flesh still tangling in her mouth and licking her muzzle clean. So far so good. But she knew the bard had been in trouble. And no trace of him. Not good.

Her tongue flicked out and she took up the scent of the bard and his captors. No heed was paid to the surviving dwarf as he whimpered and groaned, barely holding onto his arm. He had stopped fighting and, as far as she reckoned, would not want to talk. And even if he wanted to, nothing he could tell her would be either as true or as interesting as the trail of smell spreading before her.