#maybe i just grew up around way too many exes and weird vague old/ hand wavey present flames of the adults in my life so i just think that’s

[latinokaeya-moving]

not to be talking abt something as stupid as shipping seriously like this but while i know polyam configurations are never gonna be as easily digestible as just two person pairings in media i do think it’s always funny when ppl try n logically “well actually” their way out of them by explaining how a character would NEVER be able to handle polyamory bc of xyz when those hang ups they list are then for the most part issues you would encounter in monogamous relationships too lol… like one of the most common things being smth like “oh they’re too possessive/get jealous too easily so can’t imagine polyamory for them haha!” is so silly to me. as if those traits arent naturally present in plenty of polyam rltnshps irl bc get this… polyam ppl can still act jealous or possessive…. wild right. it might even be fun to play around with that concept for the drama sometimes but like i guess who knows really

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[shyficwriter]

Who's Tougher part 2

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!) Guest starring Thor

Summary: So the Guardians now know you aren't Terran. That makes things awkward, but things only get more awkward when they find out what you are.

Author’s Note: Part 1 here.

Word Count: 3,337

"Any chance we can just forget that happened?" you ask, nervously chuckling as you wring your hands. "I promise I'll fix that-" you stand up and look again at the ruined metal that was once the arm of a chair, "or uh... replace it?" You grin hopefully, though you were sure it came out more like a grimace.

"No! Of course we're not just gonna forget that happened!" Peter cried, his face a mix of startled amazement and incredulity, like he couldn't quite believe what he had just witnessed from his friend. "Are you crazy!? What are you!?"

You shrank back a bit, his words stung a little, whether he intended them to or not. "Ok, I had a feeling that wouldn't fly..." Your gaze dropped to the table. What were you? You were his friend... right?

"Why did you lie?" Gamora asked, not nearly as harshly as Peter, but it hurt more regardless.

You furrow your brows as you look up to her, insulted. "Hey! I didn't lie!"

"You said you was from Terra." Kraglin interjected. "An' you ain't a Terran. Think that counts as lyin'." He sat back in his chair, eyeing you. Yondu still stood next to him, doing the same.

Drax, still sat in his chair but removing his electrode leads, then threw in a, "Friends shouldn't lie," with Groot nodding in agreement as well as Mantis, but you ignored them.

"I was born there- Pretty sure that counts as 'being from' someplace." You suppressed the urge to call him a jerk and crossed your arms in front of you with a hurt expression. "Not my fault you filled in the blanks yourselves."

Yondu spoke up now. "Ya didn't exactly tell us otherwise, either." He doesn't sound angry or as confused or suspicious like the others, his statement was more matter-of-fact. You had been with the team longer than he had, but in the time that he had known you, you had never given an inclining that you were anything other than a normal Terran like Quill- or well, maybe that's a bad example... but now that Ego is dead that probably makes him a normal Terran, right?

You merely responded to him with, "You didn't ask." You had a feeling that likely wouldn't go over well, but you were too busy being offended for being called a liar to give it much thought before it was out of your mouth.

Peter made noises that couldn't be classified as words as he waved his hands around in exasperation. "Wha- You- HOW- Were we really just supposed to ask, 'Hey, do you have any cool or weird powers you haven't told us about? Like glowing eyes or the ability to crush metal with your bare freaking hands?!'"

You don't respond, just stare off into a corner.

"I think you better start talking. Or, ya know, we can always hook you back up to this thing you hated so much until you spill the goods." Rocket said with a chuckle, holding up what you now mentally dubbed as a torture device. You couldn't quite tell if he was trying to lighten the mood or not, but either way it didn't work.

You blush and instinctively wrap your arms protectively around your middle. "You don't have to be mean about it..." you say, not making eye contact with anyone.

"Ok," says Gamora, trying to calm the situation down, holding her hands up in a placating gesture. "I think what Peter means is why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you feel you could trust us?"

That hurt. You didn't want them to think you thought so little of them. You sigh, "It's not like that. I just- I dunno."

"You don't know?" Gamora repeated, an eyebrow raised.

"Look, I'm sorry. Ok? It's not that I didn't trust you, I trust you guys with my life! I do! I- I just couldn't. I don't have a better answer." You did actually, but it was too complicated. You wanted to melt into the floor.

"Hey, I got a question." Kraglin spoke back up when everyone else seemed to be at a loss for words. "'While back, when Thor was here, he told you he thought ya looked familiar, and you got all nervous-like when you told him he was mistaken. Now, at the time I thought you was just crushin' on him mighty hard, but now you've got me thinking maybe you didn't wanna be recognized."

You cringed. You knew what he was referring to. When Thor had briefly been with the Guardians he came up to you, stating he swore he knew you from somewhere. You had replied that you merely had 'one of those faces' and that he was mistaking you for someone else before scurrying off to talk to Gamora.

You had lied.

Kraglin continued. "Cuz now that I think about it, you're kinda like him... Kinda like a-"

You knew what he was about to say, and you hated it. "Please don't-"

He finished the sentence anyway, "-god."

Something seemed to click for the rest of the team and they now stared at you wide-eyed. Little Groot's mouth dropped open, while Mantis covered hers. Peter and Gamora exchanged stunned glances with Drax. Yondu and Rocket each raised an eyebrow while Kraglin just looked at you expectantly for an answer.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Please don't call me that."

Peter stared at you. "You're a god?!" All this time... All this freaking time one of his friends had been a god and never told him?? Were you a celestial like Ego? Were you another Asgardian like Thor? He had so many questions, but couldn't verbalize any of them in his shock.

You shoot Kraglin a pained look. "Dammit! You've gone and made it all weird!" You turn back to Peter. "No! I'm not a god!" This seemed to relax the others some, but not much. Yeah, you seemed cool, but why hide you could do what you just did to the chair? What else were you hiding?

"But ya are, aren't ya? Like Thor, I mean." Kraglin pressed.

You scrambled for the right words. "I- No- Well, not exactly..." You hated this. Everything was so simple ten minutes ago, couldn't you just go back to that?

"I'm calling him." Rocket says, pulling out his media pad and beginning to dial.

"Wait! No no no no no!" you exclaim, stepping forward with your hands raised. You realized you shouldn't have done that, it looked suspicious as hell, but you panicked.

Rocket looked up at you, smirking, "Why? Is it because he'll recognize you and confirm you're like him? Or... wait..." He thought for a second. "Are you some kind of fugitive?"

"No!" you say, wincing. "I mean-" You brush a hand over your face. "Ok. I did know him," you admitted, making Kraglin laugh out a "Knew it!" You shoot him a look before returning to Rocket. "I'm not a god- or a fugitive- I would just rather he -uh- didn't remember me." Truthfully, it wasn't Thor you were worried about, it was his brother, and if Thor remembered you there was a chance he'd bring it up to Loki. But, that was another story for another day. Or never. Never was good.

The rest of the team gave you a weird look for a moment. Eventually Gamora asked suspiciously, "Why?" You being vague wasn't exactly helping you right now, but you couldn't help it.

"Just... personal reasons." you reply, hoping it would be enough.

Spoiler: it wasn't.

"Yeah, no, I'm calling him." Rocket said, he had already dialed and it was ringing. If there was one thing Rocket liked, it was uncovering other people's secrets, usually to hold them over there heads, and Thor was clearly a lead to figuring out yours.

Your eyes went wide in panic again and you tried to stop him, but before you could do anything Thor's face appeared in the screen and you muttered an, "Aw, fuck."

"Rabbit! Hi! It's been a bit, what brings you to call me?" Thor said cheerfully. "And everyone else is there, too! Hello!"

Mantis waved cutely at the screen and the others verbalized their greetings. Well, aside from Yondu and Kraglin, who just gave a nod to be polite.

"Hey Thor," Rocket started, "I was hoping you could settle something. You remember our friend here, right?" He turned the screen to you and you quickly changed your expression from exasperated pleading as you mouthed the word "No!" over and over with a wave of your hands into to a forced smile as you waved and awkwardly said "Hi, Thor..."

Rocket grinned, taking glee in watching you squirm. Yes, partially because he was a dick, but also because he was actually offended that you, his pranking buddy, had kept something like this from him. It hurt, and this was how he was choosing to deal with that.

"You know, I thought I did, but I was told it was a misunderstanding... although..." Thor said thoughtfully, squinting his eyes.

Your stomach sank.

Thors face lit up. "Oh yes! I knew I recognized you! You were one of mine and Loki's playmates when Mother and Father would visit old friends on Earth!"

You winced but retained your forced smile, but it immediately fell with what he said next.

"You were the lovely Nephilim girl that Loki would get into so much trouble with!" Thor laughed heartily. "My, it's been a long time. I don't really remember why we didn't keep in touch..."

Your eyes grew wide, you didn't expect him to just blurt out what you were right there and then. Part of you had still been naive enough to think it could have been avoided altogether. However, you didn't have much time to dwell on it before the other shoe dropped. Your stomach jumped into your throat when he asked, "Loki's around here somewhere... Would you like me to fetch him?"

"No!" you say, a little too loudly, before trying to cover, "No, that's fine Thor. I- I don't think that's the best idea!"

Thor didn't hear you, he was already too busy calling for Loki.

The others could see you were real nervous about Thor putting Loki on the call. Yondu and Kraglin exchanged a look that was a mix of suspicion and amusement. It was evident now you had been telling the truth about not being a fugitive, but why were you so nervous? Was this Loki fella an ex-boyfriend or something? And what even was a Nephlilim?

The question on Gamora's mind was why were you avoiding what were apparently your childhood friends if they didn't seem to be angry with you?

Rocket just grinned a shit-eating grin, clearly thinking he was about to see something very funny -- meaning completely embarrassing for you-- happen.

He wouldn't get to see that happen, however, because with a quick, "Goodbye, Thor!" you lunged forward to push the button that would end the call just before Rocket could pull away.

"Hey!" Rocket complained, "You know I can just call him back, right?"

"Later, Rat." Yondu said, looking at you inquisitively. "He said ya were a Nephilim, what's that?" He didn't think you were dangerous from what he'd seen of you before today. You were about as damn goofy as Peter was... but what if that had been a cover this whole time? He did just see you destroy that chair arm without even realizing, like it was nothing. Why else would you have hidden who/what you were from the team? He had to be cautious.

Peter spoke up. "I've heard of those. My grandparents made me go to Sunday school. It's like the baby of an angel and a human... and they're like... super powerful... but- but you're not supposed to be real!" he said, amazement in his eyes. "I thought that was all religious bullcrap! Does this mean that God, like thee God is real??" He was asking out of utter disbelief rather than anything, having never actually believed in any of that stuff, especially after being taken by Yondu when he was a boy.

You cringed so hard. "Peter please. You're being so embarrassing right now!" You covered your face before letting your hands fall again. The rest of the team just kind of stared at each other, not really sure what to do with all this information. "Look, if the dude exists, I've never met him, and that Terran religion stuff made things so awkward for people like me. And you wonder why I didn't tell!"

Now Peter looked a little sorry, and to your surprise he actually apologized. "Look, ok, I'm sorry. You're right, but can you blame us?"

Your shoulders fell and you sighed, breaking your gaze from his. "I get it, I do. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but why does it matter what I am? I'm still me. I'm still the same person."

Drax spoke up for the first time in a while, standing up from his chair to stand with you as he patted you on the shoulder. "This small neffle-thing is right. We are family. It shouldn't matter what anyone is."

You awkwardly pat his hand on your shoulder, honestly not expecting the sudden solidarity. "Thanks, buddy."

"I do have a question though." he added, removing his hand.

You dropped your head, muttering, "Dammit."

"Peter said your kind are very powerful, does that mean this whole time you've been holding back on missions?"

The realization of what Drax had asked put strange expressions on half the faces of your team. The kinda look that says, "Hey! You've been holding out on us! What the hell?!" Rocket nearly verbalized this sentiment as such with a, "Hey! He's right! How many jobs could we have just been in and out of with a snap of your fingers?! Rude, is what that is."

"Ok, first off, I can't make anything happen 'with the snap of my fingers,' ok? I just want to make that clear," you scolded. Your cheeks began to grow hot as you continued, "and secondly... um... none."

"None!? Quill just said you were some super powerful being, and you're really gonna tell us that none of your powers could have helped us on any of those missions?" Rocket stood staring at you in disbelief, his hands on his hips in a way that would have been super adorable if you weren't so uncomfortable right now.

"Yeah, I'm not exactly great at... controlling them." you admitted, rubbing your arm.

"You can't control them?" Gamora asked, sounding a bit surprised, and maybe a little sympathetic too.

"No." You admitted again, begrudgingly. You saw they were looking at you like they wanted some sort of explanation, so you sighed before making wildish gestures with your hands at the ruined chair arm, saying sarcastically, "Exhibit A! I broke the damn chair just because the damn trash panda... tickled me too hard with his electrocution-torture- thingy..." your sentence trailed off in a mix of bitterness and embarrassment, your face flushed a decent shade of scarlet as you crossed your arms. "You know, if you ask me this is all his fault. We wouldn't be having this conversation if it weren't for him."

"You can't blame me! It was supposed to hurt! Not my fault you didn't tell us you're some weird-god thing." Rocket then proceeded to mock you. "oH No! NoT AN elEcTRiC SHOCK! IT TiCkLES TOO mUcH! i'm GOnnA bEg ROCkEt FOR MERCY And BreAK A ChAIR BeCAUsE eVEn ThOUgh I'm a GOD i'm StiLL a Big bABy!"

"I hate you," you say flatly, glaring at him before looking up at the ceiling in frustration as you said, "and stop calling me a god, I'm not a god!"

The sound of laughter brought your gaze back to the team. It was Rocket, of course. Yondu and Kraglin were also snickering, mostly due to your pouty expression, but Rocket was definitely the loudest. You frowned. "It's not funny."

"The hell if it ain't," Yondu laughed. Everyone had been so surprised by what you had done to the chair that they actually had forgotten what had made you do it in the first place.

"Aw, don't give us that long face," Kraglin teased, still laughing. "It could've been worse. Getting tickled til ya break a chair is a whole lot less embarrasin' than gettin' tickled til yer pissin' yer pants."

You gave Kraglin a scandalized look as his comment earned snickers from more of the team. He might have been trying to make you feel better, but he had actually only embarrassed you more. The only one not actually laughing was Gamora, and she looked like she was going to tell the others off for you, but she was cut off by Rocket.

"Oh cheer up, or I'll do it again!" Rocket laughed, giving you a mischievous look. "That'll teach you to blame me! If you and Quill hadn't been bickering all the time I wouldn't have made this thing to shut you up!"

You glared at him. "Threaten me with that again and I'm taking it," you warned.

To your surprise, Yondu took that moment and actually snatched the device from Rocket himself. This surprised Rocket too, and he looked up at Yondu with a dejected, "Hey!"

"Sorry there, Rat, but we don't need anymore broken chairs." He chuckled and slipped you a wink as he slipped the device into one of the inside pockets of his duster. He might have been making a joke at your expense as he did it, but you were grateful for the gesture nonetheless. You didn't need Rocket threatening you with it every time he wanted something from you- and you know he would have. As did Yondu, hence why he snatched it. You may have been a goofy little shit like Peter, and you may have hidden powers (and don't get him wrong, he was still going to keep an eye on you), but he still liked ya well enough to save you from a sadistic raccoon, for now.

Rocket pouted, muttering something about "Never let me have any fun!" as he collected Groot and sulked off.

You smiled at Yondu in return, glad the mood had been somewhat lifted, even if it was at your own expense. After a beat you look back to Peter. "Are we good?" you asked, with so much more meaning behind those three words than just asking if you two were good. Peter could see that you were desperately asking not only for forgiveness, but acceptance. There was thinly veiled fear and nervousness in your eyes that he might cast you out for keeping this secret from the team, from him. It made him feel a little guilty.

He looked at you softly. "Yeah. I mean, I still have a lot of questions, but yeah, we're good."

"I guess that's fair," you say, a relieved grin cracking your face. "But another day, ok? It's late and I'm tired." With that you excused yourself for bed, barely waiting for an acknowledgment of what you said before you were walking away, eager to just get away from this conversation for now. You did smirk a little, however, when you heard Drax ask Peter if you being a "Neffleling" meant you were the tougher one, only for Peter to sigh irritably and say, "No, Drax," and Kraglin to laugh in response and say to Peter, "Nah, I think it does," just to rile him up.

Once you were gone Kraglin spoke again, wondering out loud what had happened with Loki that made you so nervous when Rocket called Thor.

This made Peter look back and share a look with the rest of the team. Kraglin was right. You were nervous enough to hang up the phone when Thor called for Loki to join the conversation. Nervous enough to wish Thor didn't remember your face.

What had happened?

[shoot-the-oneshot]

Harvard Vs Netflix

Malcolm bright x reader

You were fussing over your hair for probably the tenth time this block, usually you didn’t care but you were going on a double date with your friend and her new fiance, plus it was the first time she’ll meet Malcolm, so you had to look your best.

“Love, you look fine, calm down.”

Malcolm says, gently pulling your hand away from your hair and onto his lap. It also didn’t help that he always wore a suit, and looked damn good in them. You never saw him an anything else until you moved in with him. Shooting the ex FBI agent an exasperated look.

“Surely you know that wasn’t the best thing to say right now, being a profiler and all?”

Chuckling he lifts your hand to place many soft kisses to the back in apology.

“You’re right, I should’ve told you how beautiful you always look, now being no exception.”

“Plus aren’t you excited?”

Smiling you slide closer, tucking yourself under his arm resting your head on his chest as you sigh. You were excited, but couldn’t get past this weird feeling in your chest.

“I am, it’s just...her fiancé Ty,”

Feeling him move to get a better look at your expression, trying to figure out what you meant so you didn’t have to say it if you didn’t want to. You know if he saw something he didn’t like on your face as you spoke of the other man he would tell the driver to turn around, he always wanted you to be comfortable even around his family, he never seemed to calm down until you both were alone.

“There’s something off, and I can’t ask her about it or she will think it’s payback for what she said about you when we started dating.”

“What did she say about me!”

Luckily before you had to answer the car stopped outside the restaurant.

Some restaurant in Manhattan that had a dark lit romantic theme but was still classy.

After Malcolm held the door open for you, you saw Natalie sitting alone and rushed to hug her.

“You’re here!”

She squeals when she sees you, Malcolm trailing behind, hands stuffed in his expensive suit pants pockets.

“Of course we are, but where’s Ty?”

You asked sitting in the seat Malcolm pulled out for you after you introduced them both.

Reading the sheepish look on her face you could figure out what was up.

“He’s running late, he will be here soon.”

That’s what she always said. You all spend the next thirty minutes catching up and explaining old stories of the trouble you both got into as kids to Malcolm, when Ty walks in. Giving you a quick awkward hug, he knew you didn’t like him you made it clear after the fifth time he stood her up. He shook Malcolms hand and gave Natalie a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Sorry I’m late got caught up at work.”

Malcolm smirked at your eye roll, it was odd for him to see you like this, normally you were the nicest person clearly you didn’t like Ty, he just had to find out why, should be easy enough.

“What do you do?”

It was a simple question, if Malcolm wasn’t the one to ask but you knew he’d be looking for anything Ty would give up. You already had suspicions hopefully He will come to the same conclusion.

“Uh, real-estate, you?”

“I’m a consultant for the NYPD, a profiler to be exact.”

“He used to be FBI isn’t that cool!”

Natalie said squeezing Tys shoulder as she bragged to her fiancé about your boyfriends past career. At least he looked flustered knowing that Malcolm figures out serial killers thoughts for fun.

“Isn’t it a little late for real estate?”

“Y/n!”

“No Nat, it’s okay. Well Y/n in real estate I have to stage houses in order to sell them. That’s what I was doing.”

Giving an innocent shrug as she yells at you. That smug punk, he was testing you, seeing how far you would go you knew that but if you were going down so was he.

“Oh yeah did you use perfume to stage the house? because you smell absolutely floral.”

Before you could laugh at he wide eyes and the fact he choked on his drink, your boyfriends phone rang. He could feel your glare, one because you asked him to mute it during dinners, two because it ruined the moment you finally had of Ty for once not having some degrading come back.

Quietly speaking over the phone, judging by the annoyance all over his face it was his mother. Rather then third wheeling you followed him outside, when he was just hanging up.

“I’m sorry love,-“

You cut him off before he could finish, any other time you would be irritated but this time, it gave you an escape.

“Yeah yeah it’s fine. What did you think of Ty?”

“You don’t like it when I profile your friends.”

Raising his eyebrows, looking over your face as if it was a trick.

“Ty is not my friend! And I said I don’t like when you profile me! I know the guy is cheating do you agree?”

“He was acting odd and gave clear signals of deception and did smell very floral yes.”

“Well he wasn’t wearing his ring and there’s a pink lipstick mark behind his ear, did you see how nervous he got when he found out what you did!”

He’s only her fiancé but she wanted them both to have engagement rings. And of course he probably lost his ‘staging a house’

“How’d you catch that? I didn’t even see that!”

Malcolm asked, sounding astounded. Sure he went to some fancy school but you learned naturally, which is something he forgets. You could read people almost as well as he could and have made many jokes about it.

“Yeah, guess Netflix taught more than Harvard babe.”

You winked, leading him back to the restaurant.

The following week you were both having a game night with Ainsley and Mitch the new guy she was seeing. You started with monopoly, then charades which you and Malcolm killed at. Now it was 21, the boys either folded or busted, it was down to you and Ainsley,

“I’m all in.”

She says, her lip twitching. An untrained eye wouldn’t have caught it, but you call her bluff and go all in too. And you were right to do so. Yelling in excitement as you flip your cards.

“Dang it, it’s like playing with Malcolm!”

She shouted, a smile on both of your faces. The boys came to see who won, although Malcolm already knew. You were the only person he couldn’t beat at cards.

“She’s not exactly like me, she reads expressions and body language I read behaviors.”

Malcolm over explained. You found it cute but the other couple looked lost.

“Why don’t we make this fun? We all go against Y/n, two truths and a lie see if she can find the lies.”

Mitch suggest, leaning comfortably on the couch next to Ainsley. Malcolm sitting straight up next to you his hand resting on your hip. Looking mildly intrigued and quickly agreed. Mitch practically lunges to the ottoman in front of you.

“Okay! So..when I was sixteen I stole a car,

I secretly dated my best friends sister,

And I had a dog named Shakespeare.”

He quickly rattled off, the other two in the room watching us like hawks. I already knew about the car from when Malcolm made Gil run a background check. the second one looked like a truth but there was a hint of head tilt when he said ‘dated’

“You didn’t date her, you just slept together.”

It was crickets waiting for his response, he stares frozen until his eyes widen and jaw drops.

“Holy crap she’s good!”

“She was right?”

“Shakespeare, really?”

You and Malcolm shouted simultaneously.

He was equally surprised and impressed. He couldn’t figure out which was the lie. And yet you did and then some. He was proud but couldn’t stand you were that good at something you learned from a Netflix series.

“Move over, my turn!”

Ainsley now sat in Mitchs place. You noticed her foot tapping as she thought of what to say.

“I took ballet classes when I was 8, I wore a dress worth over a thousand dollars to prom and spilled punch all over it........and I over heard mom and dad talking about the girl in the box.”

Malcolms hand tightened on your thigh, you could feel his breath catch in his chest. She was trying to throw you off by playing with his emotions, it would’ve worked if she wasn’t so predictable. But it was a low blow that sadly didn’t surprise you.

“You didn’t spill the punch and you don’t know anything about the box.”

He relaxed once she nodded her head, And apologized to her brother. You could see the interest in her eyes as she asked question after question. One of them being what was beneficial with my little ‘gift’.

“Well I always know who’s lying before they open their mouth, plus knowing the signs of deception means you can manipulate them, which is why I can lie to your brother.”

Winking to your boyfriend during your last sentence. It was true you were amazing at lying, you never used it but no one ever knew about surprises you were planing.

“I’ll admit I’m impressed, but you definitely couldn’t lie to me I’d know.”

“Oh yeah? Looks like it my turn this time.”

Now facing Malcolm, you tucking you knee underneath you to appear more relaxed, you’d be more believable that way. He nodded for you to start. You grew up hearing the quote, don’t start a fight but once you’re in one win it. So if you had to pull a play from Ainsleys play book you would. You just won’t use something that traumatic. Keeping your shoulders loose and your breathing even.

“I used to own a classic car, I’ve never felt about anyone the way I do you, I cheated on you when you were in this hospital with the snake bite.”

Since you were telling the truth your expressions matched with the lie. But you knew Malcolm would be looking for forced reactions. Since you know what to look for in other people you could fake those same triggers, or hide them. He appeared calm as you spoke but the longer you stayed silent the more tense he got. While you were telling the lie you added extra detail, giving him more to analyze over the vague truths. Plus no one wants to believe someone they loved cheated on them.

“I don’t know.”

Malcolm sighed heavily, not only in defeat but confusion. He hated to think you did that to him, but he always thought that you deserved better, maybe you did too. Not being able to stand the pain in his eyes you explained.

“The car I had was a mustang, you’re the only man I’ve ever said I love you to, You mean to much to me I’d never cheat on you.”

Sliding closer with every sentence until you were practically in his lap as you finished. You could feel the stress leave his body, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and kissing your head.

Later that night you were curled up together in bed, his fingers lightly trailing up and down your arm staring at the ceiling.

“That was a stupid game.”

Softly laughing at his words, playing with the neckline of his grey shirt he sleeps in as you agreed.

“It was, but at least I got to show you my mad skills, I could take your job one day.”

You joke, successfully making him laugh and loosen up.

“It you, I’m always amazed by you. Showing off or not.

[elfiesink]

Sands of Time Ch. 2

As is tradition... post fic chap here first? See if fic decent? Then I’ll post to ao3.

You didn’t remember what Overwatch was. You struggled, for a moment, to pinpoint where they existed, when you had forgotten them. But you couldn’t drag up any fragments. The most you had was the memory of the scent of ash and the taste of metal in the air. Which could, frankly, be anything. That could be literally any war. It didn’t even have to be a war. You could be remembering someone cooking back when it was done in a cast iron pot over an open fire. Your memories would never be cooperative if they could help it.

They were, military. You think. There was a war with the omnics and they ended it. It was enough to figure out where Gibraltar was. Enough tiny articles about the rumor of lights near an abandoned base. You were actually stunned by the lack of ‘ghost’ options presented by the internet. That was a go-to, wasn’t it? ‘This is a mysterious phenomena!’ It’s ghosts. ‘Weird sounds in our house!’ Ghosts. ‘Mysterious smells from nowhere!’ Ghosts. ‘Lights in the forest!’ Fae probably but humans liked to say ghosts. Ghosts were the most common supernatural force known to man. Ghosts were responsible for energy costs. Ghosts made your apples turn brown after you cut them.

Maybe you would find actual ghosts in Gibraltar. It’s a possibility.

You wander down the old road that leads to the base. Listening to the world around you, feeling as each mind slips out of your radius. You keep your senses tight around you. You don’t need to know how everyone in this sleepy town is feeling. You don’t want to lose yourself in a whirlwind of emotions that aren’t yours. Not that yours are very active.

There is a large door at the end of the road. It is not maintained, at least not as far as you can see. You cannot see any signs of life, even though you can sense something deep within the mountain, far from your physical reach. Can they see you? Are their cameras somewhere? You cling to the tablet as you search, suddenly becoming aware of how strange and suspicious you must seem. A stranger, with no luggage, no gear of any kind, snooping around the doors to a defunct military base. How could anyone know you were friend, not foe? If you even qualified as friend. More of, tentative ally.

Overwatch. You barely remembered what it even was. Part of you remembered a war, another one. This one against omnics. And then it was done, and Overwatch was hailed as the victor. Then you didn’t hear about them anymore. They were gone, another whisper that you would lose in a couple of years. But maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe you would remember helping, if they let you.

Your only hope was that someone would come out to ask why you were there. What you were doing. You didn’t have an answer for them. You couldn’t say that you were a vampire there to do, vampire business for them. They would ask what that meant. Or assume that you were, at best, a liar and a spy. You couldn’t just claim to have psychic powers because you would eventually need to regain that energy and they would ask how. They would ask why. The whole vampire thing was strange at best. Dangerous at worst. Besides, you were never a fighter. If threatened you just… took control of the situation. What were you there for? To cook maybe? Clean? Anyone could clean. You could clean.

It was not an ideal offer.

Still. You were there to help. Didn’t that mean anything?

No one came out that first night. Nor the next. Nor the night after that. But you knew they were there. You spent your days pretending to be on vacation and your nights lingering by the old metal doors. Once or twice you called out, softly, just a name. Winston.  He didn’t come out. You understood, you were a stranger, you wouldn’t be in their system. But you were there. And you were not leaving. The waiting game was boring but you wouldn’t remember it anyway. You had all the time in the world and very little comprehension of what that meant anymore. It blew past you and you let it.

It took two weeks of quietly standing outside of those doors for someone to show up. You sensed him behind you. He was so, so quiet. Footsteps completely masked. You marveled at his skill, felt his energy move behind you. Swift, agile, cautious. You were being stalked. For most people this would be concerning. But for you. You could always see them, sense them. You knew where people were around you. Their intentions. This one suspected you. He was from within the mountain.

You patiently waited for him to take a stance behind you with a cold blade behind your neck.

“Winston called.”

The blade lowered, slowly. It didn’t get sheathed but it was no longer so close to running you through. His stance adjusted. You couldn’t tell where he was looking. He didn’t seem to be an omnic, but he had so many mechanical parts. The temptation to creep through his memories was a strong, but that would be invasive. And you didn’t come to pry.

“You weren’t part of Overwatch, were you?” It wasn’t a question.

“There was a message playing on my ex’s computer. It went off and I just thought… I should come help.” You lied. Lying came too naturally to you. Too clean. Too easy. You could sense his emotions changing. Suspicion to, interest. Interest to hope. You could push in. You could listen. You could pry. Instead you answered questions, followed him as the old doors creaked open. The entrance tunnel was barely maintained if at all. The walls dripped cracks that flowed through the floor. The lights were mostly out, the ones that weren’t flickered. The decay had its claws in this place. You would have your work cut out for you. This was a task beyond cleaning.

The man lead you through decrepit tunnels into decaying halls into some only vaguely damaged spaces and out into the open air. It was a beautiful view. You would have loved it a thousand years ago. Maybe a couple of hundred if you were in the right circumstance. But now it was just the ocean. It was just the water. Finite.

He took you to a workshop, or a lab, something with a lot of tools and boards full of notes and scrap everywhere. The blinking woman was there, and she greeted you with a rush of joy and excitement. You were new, and you were there. Someone else had finally come. She didn’t seem to care that you were a stranger. The woman took your hand and eagerly shook it.

“Welcome! Welcome! I’m Tracer, I don’t think we’ve met?” She looked at you curiously.

“No, you haven’t. You weren’t part of Overwatch before.” The gorilla approaches you with more trepidation. He must have checked. Something. People kept files didn’t they. Records. Memories. You kept too many. Perhaps if you poured them all into a computer you would feel a little better.

“I saw your message and… I’m not a fighter. But I was thinking you could use, administrative help? Cooking and cleaning and… repair I think. Perhaps.” You were good with your words once. When did that change? Do you remember?

“This place is falling apart. You’ll need somewhere safe and stable so you can go out and help people. I don’t need pay, I just want the chance to help.” Your tongue felt thick and your words too jumbled. Most of your conversations were with people you had mesmerized. This was. New. New and old. You shuddered and pulled all of your abilities into yourself. Quieting the world. To be inside your head alone. How dangerous.

“...Well… You’re not wrong… We can give this a try.” Winston held his hand out to you. It took you a moment to remember people shook hands. Did they? They bowed. Waved. Touched your face and pressed their foreheads to yours and shook your hand and your hand was in Winston’s and your arms were moving and you seemed to be doing this right. Perhaps. Go you.

“Are you going to be close by then? Living?” Tracer asked.

You nodded. You hadn’t lived anywhere for more than a few weeks in… well you weren’t quite sure. It could have been decades or centuries. Maybe you had lived somewhere for years and years and just, didn’t realize you were there. It wouldn’t surprise you. Oh, they were watching you. You were in a conversation. That would take some getting used to. What was Spain’s rental market like? You could only remember the ham.

“Sorry I was, already thinking of what to work on… I think… is there a medical bay? That should come first. At least part of it.” You finally spoke, trying to keep yourself in the moment.

“Yeah, it’s this way, I’ll show you!”

Her speed was unnatural. Science moved so fast. Cities changed with every blink. The more people discovered the more they grew and changed and pushed. It was… What was it. Impressive? Probably. You lost her at some point, weren’t sure when. They was so much exposed wiring, and so close to the open sea. A storm would make a puddle and a puddle would hurt someone. That would have to be on the priority list too. At least you didn’t have to worry about being electrocuted during all this. You ate energy, it would be like poking your mouth with a chicken strip. Not really all that life threatening when it’s also sort of delicious. Tracer appeared at your side in a flash.

“Sorry about that! Must’ve went too quick. Could you fix those?” She asked, following your gaze to the wires.

“Yes, I can.”

[ladyofthecampfires]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL THE QUESTIONS!!!

1. If you didn’t have to sleep, what would you do with the extra time?I would read a bunch more.2. What is your favorite piece of clothing you own / owned?I like my plaid shirts that I stole from my brother3. What hobby would you pick up if time & money weren’t an issue?I would take piano lessons and art lessons4. What does your perfect room look like?A small room in a log cabin with a big bed and a bunch of fluffy blankets and floor rugs with Zapotec patterns.5. How often do you play sports?Pretty much never6. What fictional place would you like to visit?The Shire. Very much the Shire.7. What job would you be terrible at?Motivational speaker or counselor 8. When was the last time you climbed a tree?I don’t know9. If you could turn any activity into an Olympic sport, what would you have a good chance of winning a medal for?I really don’t know. I’m not super talented at much.10. What is the most annoying habit that you or other people have?Speaking over others. Other people do that, I don’t :p11. What job do you think you’d be really good at?Proofreader 12. What skill would you like to master?Learning to draw would be cool13. What would be the most amazing adventure to go on?A camping adventure! In some mountains somewhere14. If you had unlimited funds to build a house to live on for the rest of your life, what would the finished house look like?A nice cozy log cabin15. What’s your favorite drink?Depends on my mood. I do like Dr Pepper though :p16. What state or country do you never want to go back to?Don’t think I’ve been anywhere I hated17. What songs do you have completely memorized?Way too many to list18. What game or movie universe would you like to live in?Tolkien universe would be incredible19. What do you consider to be your best find?My brother found a homemade wand in the middle of the woods. I didn’t find it but it’s mine now.20. Are you usually early or late?Almost always early. I’m scared of being late.21. What pets did you have when you were growing up?Cats, dogs and I had a hamster for a while22. When people come to you for help, what do they usually need help with?Proofreading something haha 23. What takes up too much of your time?Worrying about things I can’t control 24. What do you wish you knew more about?Literally everything. Religion and mythology? 25. What would be your first question after waking up from being frozen for 100 years?Can I go back to sleep?26. What are some small things that make your day better?Talking to friends, coffee, my pets27. Who’s your go-to band or artist when you don’t know who or what to listen to?Frank Turner or the Hamilton soundtrack 28. What’s the best way to start the day?
The way I started it yesterday morning actually. A cup of coffee, donuts and the comics page of the newspaper 29. What TV shows do you like?Currently American Gods, Preacher, Brooklyn Nine-Nine 30. What TV channel doesn’t exist but really should?One that runs Harry Potter and LotR marathons just 24/7 31. Who has impressed you most with what they’ve accomplished?I’m sure there are people but I can’t think of any right now 32. What age do you wish you could stay at permanently?
I feel like 10 was good 33. What TV show or movie do you refuse to watch?13 Reasons Why 34. What’s your ideal way to spend a weekend?It depends on my mood I guess. A nice balance of going out and staying in. Yeah that’s vague but I’m too lazy to think about it. 35. What is something that is considered a luxury, but you don’t think you could live without?Sanitary products, according to the government 36. What is your claim to fame?I won a battle of the bands contest once? 37. What is something you enjoy doing the old-fashioned way?I dunno38. What’s your favorite book or movie genre?Fantasy I think 39. How often do you people-watch?Sometimes 40. What have you only recently formed an opinion about?I didn’t really think about politics much until I got to college 41. What’s the best day of the year?I don’t think there is one 42. What subject interests you that not many people have heard of?Paleography!! 43. How do you relax after a long day of work?Browse tumblr 44. What’s the best book series or TV series you’ve ever read or watched?Hannibal? Maybe? 45. Where is the farthest you’ve ever been from home?Went to Rome last year 46. What’s the most heartwarming thing you’ve ever seen?Once when it snowed at school I was watching from my dorm window at like midnight when several kids came outside and started making snow angels on the lawn. It was just really serene47. What is the most annoying question people ask you?Why are you so quiet? 48. What could you give a 40-minute presentation on with no preparation?Roman stuff probably if I didn’t die of a panic attack first49. If you were the dictator on a small island nation, what crazy dictator stuff would you do?I would resign immediately and put someone better in charge 50. What is something you think everyone should do at least once in their lives?Get to know someone completely different from them 51. Would you rather go hand gliding or whitewater rafting?Rafting! 52. What’s your dream car?Something reliable with good mileage 53. What’s worth spending more on to get the best?Food, relationships 54. What is something a ton of people are obsessed with, but you just don’t get?Sex 55. What are you most looking forward to in the next 10 years?Being settled and hopefully happy with where I am 56. Where is the most interesting place you’ve been?Rome! 57. What’s something you’ve been meaning to try but haven’t gotten around to it?Dunno 58. What is the best thing that happened to you last week?I graduated lol 59. What piece of entertainment do you wish you could erase from your mind, only to experience it for the first time again?Hannibal 60. If all jobs had the same pay rate and hours, what job would you want to have?Musician61. What amazing thing have you done that no one was around to see?No idea 62. How different was your life 1 year ago?I was still in college 63. What quirks do you have?I’m sure I have some but I can’t think of any 64. What would you rate 10/10?Sleeping 65. What fad or trend do you think should come back?Dunno66. What is the most interesting piece of art you’ve seen?the Bernini statues in Rome were beautiful67. What kind of art do you enjoy most?Dunno, not that into art68. What do you hope never changes?I don’t know69. What city would you most like to live in?Don’t like cities that much70. What movie title best describes your life?I can’t think of any71. Why did you decide to do the work you are doing now?I’m not doing anything right now72. What’s the best way a person can spend their time?Making someone else smile73. If you suddenly became a master at woodworking, what would you make?Art74. Where is the most relaxing place you’ve ever been?Cloudcroft New Mexico!75. What’s the luckiest thing that has ever happened to you?Don’t know76. Where would you rather be from?Northern California sounds nice, up in the mountains77. What are some things you’ve had to unlearn?Bodyshaming, misogyny, junk like that78. What do you look forward to in the next 6 months?No idea79. What website do you visit most often?Tumblr80. What one thing do you really want but can’t afford?Lasik surgery81. Where do you usually go when you have free time?My room I guess82. Where would you spend all your time if you could?In some mountains somewhere83. What’s special about the place you grew up?Six Flags?84. What age do you want to live to?Dunno85. What are you most likely to become famous for?Nothing86. What are you absolutely determined to do?Keep being a good person87. What is the most impressive thing you know how to do?Play bass? I guess?88. What do you wish you knew more about?A lot of stuff89. What question would you most like to know the answer to?Not sure90. What question can you ask to find out the most about a person?I don’t know91. When was the last time you changed your opinion or belief about something major?Eh I don’t know92. What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received?Someone told me I had a cute nose once93. As the only human left on earth, what would you do?Do something like try to scale Mt. Everest and probably die there94. Who inspires you to be better?No one I can think of95. What do you want your epitaph to be?Dunno96. What haven’t you grown out of?I like playing in mud/sand. Is that weird? I don’t do it unless I’m at the beach or something though97. In what situation or place would you feel most out of place in?Pretty much everywhere98. What’s the dumbest thing you’ve done that actually turned out pretty well?Not sure99. If someone wrote a book on an event in your life, what would the book be about?It would be a pretty boring book, don’t know100. What’s something you will never do again?Plenty of things101. How do you hope you’ll change as a person in the future?Hope I can be a better and kinder person102. What keeps you up at night?Depends103. What’s the most surprising self-realization you’ve had?You like girls, it’s fine104. What is the most illegal thing you’ve ever done?I smoked weed once :o105. How do you get in the way of your own success?Second-guessing myself106. What are you afraid people see when they look at you?Nothing107. What is your biggest regret?There’s plenty108. What do you look down on people for?Being willfully ignorant109. What bridges do you not regret burning?With an ex110. What lie do you tell most often?Not sure111. What would be your spirit animal?Dunno112. What is the best & worst thing about getting older?Freedom/responsibility113. What are you most likely very wrong about?How to fix a car114. If you had a personal flag, what would be on it?Dunno115. What’s happened that changed your view on the world?The election116. What is the biggest lesson you’ve learned?Can’t pick117. What is the most immature thing you do?I dunno, I’m pretty mature I think118. What are you famous for among your friends & family?Nothing119. If your childhood had a smell, what would it be?Dirt120. What one responsibility do you wish you didn’t have?Having to work121. What are 3 things you want to accomplish before you die?Find something I like to do, find someone I want to share my life with, travel somewhere cool122. What do you want to tell your 10-year-old self?Try not to worry so much but also don’t trust people123. What’s the best thing you got from your parents?My sense of humor124. What’s the best thing about you?I care a lot?125. What blows your mind?Space126. Have you ever saved someone’s life?No127. What are you really good at but embarrassed to be good at?Don’t know128. What would a mirror opposite of you look like?Elegant129. What are 3 interesting facts about you?I can’t think of anything right now130. Which of your scars has the best story behind it?I have one on my stomach from surgery when I was a baby?131. What’s the title of the current chapter in your life?Aimless132. What were some of the biggest turning points in your life?Going to college133. What’s the hardest lesson you’ve learned?You can’t always make things go the way you want134. What do people think is weird about you?I’m not very talkative135. What mistake do you keep making?I dunno136. What have you created that you’re most proud of?Dunno137. What do you doubt?My judgment138. What are some of your morals?Be a good person139. What do you want to be remembered for?No idea140. What do you regret not doing in your childhood years?Learning a second language141. What is your favorite fragrance?Pine trees!142. What do you think your last words will be?No idea143. Who or what do you take for granted?Dunno144. Why would you be annoying as a roommate?I feel like I’m a pretty good roommate. Maybe I’m around too much.145. What is something you’re insecure about?Literally everything146. What’s the best & worst piece of advice you’ve received?Dunno147. What irrational fears do you have?Emetophobia, also don’t love heights148. What makes a good life?Helping others149. What’s the last adventure you went on?Went to a concert on Saturday? Is that an adventure?150. What is the most memorable gift you’ve received?I can’t think of anything right now

[rayaarchive]

about

THINGS RAYA DOES:

1) Raya sneaking up and blowing frost on Fae’s neck after a bath and he’s still damp enough for it to suck 2) Uses fire magic to give rly warm hugs ?? 3) When she has nothing to do: looks for Cole even though she knows she won’t find him while knowing he will just appear in these situations. She just wants to make sure he’s not alone being sad. That’s it. She just talks to him or tried to get him to play a game with him. 4) She can play the Zhaleika… when ever she can find one. 5) She keeps a spoon on her somewhere. Not always in the same place but just somewhere, be it in her braid or shirt or apron.

You might think it’s for cooking but mostly it’s thrown at people. 6) Raya knows everyone's favorites foods and makes them when they're having bad days. Raya doesn't make a whole lot for herself when she's down, but she does make a mess when baking to make herself feel better 7) I’ve thought about this a few times but I’m not sure if it’s a normal thing or just me; my scars r rly sensitive, and since over 50% of Raya’s hands r covered in burn scar, I think her hands r incredibly sensitive and naturally she’d rly like soft things…. so I imagine she loves playing with ppls hairand that’s a big reason y she tries to get Fahleon to bathe, but also it’s just a thing she does to everyone. 8) The Ravens: …. reasonably, Raya has a separate garden full of sunflowers and corn purely for the birds so they don’t eat the stuff she cooks with “A little birdy told me” is a running joke in skyhold because apparently EVERYONE has a bird Raya notices the birds come to the dungeon often and gives them parcels to take down there when she sees them in the ‘bird garden’. She always asks them politely. There is a ‘bird dish’ outside one of the kitchen windoes where Raya has melted the metal and stone togeather so no one can take the bowl away any more. (Bird or person.) and it’s mostly for Ada with meat, but all the animals end up getting to it any how. The cats terrorize the birds n the garden and there isn’t much she can do about it tbh. They also keep the mice away so she won’t shoo them off 9) Medic edition: Oh your hurt? BITE ME. Shut up, im working. Cauterizes wounds with her HANDS. enjoys your pain because fuck you for being stabbed is the most aggressive pacifist ever Completely silent and quick/efficient during this, she knows what shes doing and shes got like 50 things going through her head and probably just as many things going on with her hands doubles the kitchen as a walk in infirmary HOARDS YARROW - DO NOT TOUCH, IT IS VERY IMPORTANT will probably call you a ‘fuck nut’ or something. WILL SMACK THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR WOUND IF YOU DON’T LISTEN TO HER. uses the ‘five-flower remidy’ as a cure all tbh  [ Clematis, Cherry Plum, Impatiens, Rock Rose, and Star of Bethlehem ]

10)   It’s just occurred to me that Raya has no concept of age. It’s pretty much just “it’s a baby”, “old”, “not old” and like, all the vague area inbetween. Like ur either n diapers, ancient, or “not old” and that’s the only concept of age that registers most of the time.

A list of bullshit that is canon: Raya is a ‘hero of ferelden’ fangirl … not high or low key, but like mid-key Actively tries to make the anxiety bomb that is levy, not have anxiety…. by accidentally giving him anxiety Thinks it’s cool that Fahleon is a warden. Thinks he’s a bit of a dolt for not knowing anything about wardens. Finds it absolutely hilarious that blackwall is better at it than Fahleon so says nothing when she catches on that he is n fact not a warden. Even though Raya takes lessons from Morrigan, she’s petrified of her… More so of Vivienne While not in private, Cullen and Raya still act like dicks to eachother. Tossing barbs at eachother has become something like a game. Raya can’t sing to save her life! Her spacial awareness isn’t the greatest She’s not ticklish at all She made Cullen promise to keep ‘them’ a secret… ppl found out any way. She doesn’t trust most people. That’s why she’s so clingy and tolerant of Fahleon: she trusts him. Both enamored by and scared shitless of dragons Likes collecting bones for no real reason Weird = cool Not very smart outside of plant things

about:

Name: Raya Galina

Age: ~19

Race: Half elf

Status: ex-slave / cook

Raya, if nothing else, is bouncy! Bouncy hair, bouncy clothes, bouncy toes! She’s always bouncing about no matter what she’s doing. She’s an ex-slave, born into it because her mother was a city elf owned by a jeweler. Not a kind man in any sense, but Raya grew up helping and wanting to help. She’s mainly a cook, always has been, but cooking requires a good amount of knowledge with herbs and spices, so she’s a fair herbologist as well. Now that she has her freedom, she’s much more ‘exuberant’ than she has been in the past, which causes some problems, but her freedom is new and important and she’s over excited to fight for it and maintain it….

Raya is a half elf (half human). She’s fully aware but doesn’t mention it until someone else does first or its to defend herself / correct someone. She doesn’t hide her more elf like traits and prefers elves to humans for many reasons. She’s fully aware of her advantages and disadvantages to being a mixed breed.

She recognizes how had it is for both the Dalish and the city elves but she does have day dreams of visiting an Alienage to learn more about her mother’s culture. She’s rather disgusted by humanity and parts of their cultures, but knows it’s the easier life to live.

Raya is darker than most humans on Thedas, yet paler than the elves, with ears also somewhere in the middle. Her hair is pale to nearly white like her mothers. She has large ice blue eyes like her mother (sans the color), as she was an elf, yet her nose is more human. She’s a lean girl with small breast and no hips to speak of, yet her arms and core are toned from years of tedious kneeding. Scars cover her back from being punished with a whip for years… she hides them rather easily with her dress though.

Her hands are burnt on the palms and up over the edges where learning to use fire has licked away the definition in contrast to her feet that are callous from never wearing shoes. And her left eye and cheek are covered with a brown tattoo of her patron god.

Raya’s hands might be dainty because she’s small, but they’re leathery and fuck ugly. They’re covered in scars and burns from learning how to cook and do magic at the same time. Plus I think she forgets that real fire burns (as Opposed to fire she makes that will avoid her) Not all her cooking is magic, just the things that don’t take long or take much effort. I.e. would hand cook biscuits and a small bird but anything bigger than a dog gets to go n the oven

Raya is not religious at all. She knows the varying kinds in her world, likes the idea of them, but doesn’t believe what she doesn’t see. She has faith but not in a religious figure. She has faith in the potential of humanity.

She isn’t very smart (unless it involves food/herbs), she’s illiterate, mildly street smart, but runs mostly on intuition / gut feeling. It’s why she steer a clear of Solas and never takes her eyes off when he around. She has no reason not to like him but she doesn’t trust him at all.

She is ALL emotion. She doesn’t think first before displaying them and her heart is in full view. The only emotion she tries to hide is sadness and even then, she only tries so much. She doesn’t believe in hiding or dimming them and her mother is the one who told her never to bottle emotions or they grew out of control. (Can you imagine if she did and how disasterous itd Be?)

) How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy?

Raya has too much energy; she never stops moving. Even when she’s standing still, she’s not still. She’s fidgeting something or another, wether it’s grasping and re grasping or worrying the hymn of her dress or shifting back and forth on her feet. She walks in the same constant movement; her pace is a little off kilter and her speed is inconsistent. She also tends to talk with her hands, either flailing with excitement or her wrists banging her hips when angry.

) How do they present themselves socially? What distinguishes their “persona” from their “true self”, and what causes that difference?

She tries to be very happy for others, and generally is a happy person, and she feels all of an emotion at once. When she’s happy she’s nothing but happy, and nothing but sad when she is, so she hides. She’s incredibly bad at hiding emotion so she will excuse herself with out waiting for an answer if she is upset over something.

) How do they view and feel about relationships, and how might this manifest in how they handle them, if it does?

She doesn’t rly think much about it. If it happens it happens (and she honestly might not notice it happen) but she doesn’t chase it and has no will to chase it. She’d rather have friends than obligations any how.

) What do they wonder about? What sparks their curiosity and imagination, and why? How is this expressed, if it is?

EVERYTHING. She wants to know! If you’re doing something she doesn’t know about she wants to learn, she might not always ask but she will always watch and maybe figure it out herself. She’s also very into animals -accept horses and bats- and isn’t very scared of them at all. She could never tame an animal by waiting because she’s too hyper, but she is persistent enough to in other ways if she can find those other ways.

)How does your character feel about religion? She doesn’t really subscribe to any but she likes both the elven version and the human version(sorta) so when Solas destroys elvish religion, she isn’t all that fucked up over it. Just sad.

)How does their education and intelligence – or lack thereof - reflect in their speech pattern, vocabulary, and pronunciations? She’s never been educated? She can’t spell for shit even after she’s thought to read and definitely says “yall” Very much a ‘sound it out’ person.

)Are they holding on to something in the past? Can he or she forgive? She is very much so afraid of her dad and that won’t ever change. She’s terrified of anyone recognizing her and taking her back and it’s partly why she stayed with the inquisition.

)Does your character have a guilty pleasure? this is probably going to sound fucked up, and maybe obvious if you’ve ever seen the stuff where she fights? But the only thing close to a guilty pleasure she has, is being able to decimate her mana supply while fighting. Shes so hyper all the time that being able to expel all her energy feels weirdly good

) What does your character’s name mean? Did you pick it for the symbolism, or did you just like the way it sounded? it actually was one of the possible names for my daughter and I still loved it so i decided to use it for an OC

) What would be their favorite physical trait about themselves? she of course likes her ears because they got a little bit pointy but she wishes they were more, she loves her legs though, she’s gotten compliments on them before and for her that’s a big deal

) Do they have a favorite season? What about a favorite holiday? she likes the spring for the rain :)

) What are your character’s sleeping habits? Heavy or light sleeper? Blanket stealer? One that always rolls onto the floor? Pushes their lover onto the floor? Sleep talker or walker? she likes rly big soft blankets, not rly Cus she needs them but they’re just nice to wrap up in. She isn’t a blanket hog when she’s with someone else, but she definitely burritos herself when alone, and she’s not a heavy sleeper like waking the dead but she’s not a horribly light sleeper who wakes at everything either. If u call her she’ll wake but not from just walking around. Also a very clingy bed mate xP

) In their own words, how would your character describe what their lover is like? “He’s a fully capable fumbling idiot and it’s adorable.”

) Does your character have any medical conditions? Are they serious or minor? Do they affect their day to day life? she’s got some trauma -see horses and scars- but generally she’s alright? Nothing affects her everyday life, just situational.

) Is there a particular event that would emotionally devastate your character? her mom died in front of her, she’s trying really hard to not fall apart because of it so if she had to deal with one more death she’d break entirely

) Is there anything in particular that would ignite your character’s jealousy? Or does your character not get envious? she’s not an overly jealous person but she’s extremely jealous of Dalish’s looks

) If your character confessed love to their crush, boyfriend, girlfriend, etc, what would they say? in general I’m not sure, but specifically Cullen; “…. skip the stuttering and just kiss me? I do have work to do you know.”

1.   What techniques or spells do they tend to use a lot?

raising roots to trip people, heating things with her hands and when she figures out how to use a bow and arrow she lights the arrows on fire when they let loose. She constantly regulates her body temperature so that shes comfortable enough to wear a dress, but she can also heat or freeze her body to get people off of her.

10.  Are they worried about hurting their allies by accident during combat or is it up to their allies’ responsibility to look after themselves?

If/When she does something beyond her normal skill level, shes terrified, she doesnt know how to work it and she fears hurting people on accident. Shes’s very emotionally run, sadness freezes the air and makes it hard to breath and anger runs hot and you cant get near her or the air stings with heat.

11.  What’s a weapon they either won’t use or can’t use?

She cant really use a sword or a maul or anything. shes weak, her arms are strong enough to haul a carcass and pull a bow string, but not enough to draw a sword to proper height.

16.  Complaints they might have about their comrades. What annoys them, what endangers them, what don’t they like, etc.

“Sera talks weird and its annoying but shes a good person even if she does hate elves. “Varric should hide less behind stories and ask for help when he needs it rather than busying himself with helping others. The Chargers are loyal only to The Iron Bull and she fears that; she stays on Bull’s good side for it. “Fahleon just needs to speak! He woudnt be so hurt if he just said it!

What would completely break your character?

Being alone. Rejection isn’t the same as being alone, being rejected hurts but it’s not nearly as bad as having no one at all. To have no where to turn and no one to talk to or care about or get advise from. Her biggest fear is to b left alone with nowhere to go and no one to just be with.

What was the best thing in your character’s life?

The affection and attention her mother paid her.

What was the worst thing in your character’s life?

Her mom died in an accident…

What seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character?

Her dad winding metal with a fire behind him before he noticed her standing there, and the look on Fahleon’s face when he saw the rip n the sky the ‘first’ time.

Does your character work so that they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working?

She works because she’s a slave. Then because she needs a reason for The inquisition to keep her, and then to make money to keep up the House. But she also enjoys her work…

What is your character reluctant to tell people?

About her dad. Mildly less so that she’s a slave because she’s scared she might be sent back.

How does your character feel about sex?

Doesn’t want it ever again. Will possibly kill u.

How many friends does your character have?

Like 4-5 depending on ur definition.

How many friends does your character want?

All of the friends

What would your character make a scene in public about?

If u shit talk ppl she cares about or if ur hurting someone. Get wreckt

What would your character give their life for?

Her friends or something she sees as a just trade

What are your character’s major flaws?

Doesn’t always understand boundaries or when to shut up. She sees lines that shouldn’t b crossed but doesn’t always realize she’s crossed them herself.

What does your character pretend or try to care about?

Other ppls opinions….

How does the image your character tries to project differ from the image they actually project?

She tries to only show that she’s happy and chipper, as that’s what her master/father wanted for his business, but she is very full of emotion -and over the course of the inquisition she loosens that fake mask a bit- and feels things 100% of the way.

What is your character afraid of?

Other than being alone, horses.

What is something most people in your setting do that your character things is dumb?

Racism n general.

Where would your character fall on a politeness/rudeness scale?

35% polite, 65% BITE ME

Bedrooms Imagine the first time any one tries to find Raya’s bed in Skyhold. They’ve been there for a while and it’s had time to accumulate things. And while she does share a room with other women of the same or similar status, her section is just glaringly different.

Everyone has some personal items and dodads about their space but Raya’s is kind of extra. Not extremely extra, but it’s really not necessary to teather sculls to your bed posts with twine, or have scavenged jewels about. It almoat looks like a stark contrast to the happy person she tries to be.

The near by window sheds light on the fact that she has scribbles all over the floor around her area; or to most people they look like scribbles. They’re protection runes. They keep people off of her things and it becomes very evident that she is, in fact, a home taught mage.

[sending-the-message]

Dead Coyote by Ilunibi

I did not grow up in a nice area. Housing projects, regardless of where they are, are rarely ever “nice.” And, of course, in rough neighborhoods like that, you learn from a very early age who you should and should not go around and under what circumstances those dangerous people are safe. You learn how to make friends with unfriendly people, and you learn the delicate dance of walking on eggshells in the face of folks who’d gut you for the twenty-bucks in your pocket. Most importantly, though, you learn that not every villain is a villain.

Take Dead Coyote for instance.

No, I don’t know why we called him Dead Coyote, but being a kid? I didn’t really care. I knew he was an addict, I knew that he dealt drugs out of his apartment by night and sold pirated DVDs out of the trunk of his car by day, and I knew that he was Honduran, which I only knew because he’d throw a shit fit if you called him Mexican. I also knew that my mom warned me a thousand different times to never, ever talk to him because he was a disgusting junkie, but it was hard to miss him because he always seemed to linger around the basketball courts and playgrounds. My neighborhood friends had just gotten so used to him being around that they treated him like a statue, but me?

Well, I guess I was different. I thought Dead Coyote was just the most fascinating guy in the world. He was taller than my dad and he was skinny as a rail, but I’d seen him get in fights and I had never seen him lose. He wore his hair like a character in a Mad Max movie (which, admittedly, was probably because he didn’t take care of himself), and he was covered in tattoos. Swirls and skulls and weird, squiggly symbols and bugs and flies and maggots and devils.

That’s how I ended up talking to him in the end. Here I am, just barely into fourth grade, and I plopped right next to him on a bench at the basketball court, pointed out one of the symbols on his arm, and asked, “What’s that?”

He looked at me, looked at his arm, looked at me again, and narrowed his eyes. After a few moments for him to figure out that I wasn’t some drug-induced hallucination, he cracked a smile.

“Oh, uh. That’s a Pentacle of Solomon.”

“What’s a Pentacle of Solomon?”

“Uh,” he drawled, his eyes hazy. “It’s, like, a thing I found in a book once. Don’t worry about it, princess.”

And so began an unorthodox friendship.

I know it has to seem odd that a little girl would strike up a sort of sibling relationship with the twenty-something neighborhood dealer, but I was a weird kid, an only child, endlessly curious, and painfully lonely. I didn’t really fit in with a lot of the neighborhood brats, my mom worked constantly, my dad was in jail, and I spent the majority of my time as a solitary latchkey kid who’d come home from school, let herself in, and spend eight hours trying to keep herself from dying of boredom. I didn’t really register Dead Coyote as a danger despite my mom’s many warnings anymore than I paid mind to her pleas to not leave the house while she was at work. I was young, I was invincible, and Dead Coyote was a way to pass the time without feeling completely alone.

Even though we got a lot of weird looks, I kept visiting him during his daily vigil at the local playground. I’d ask him about his tattoos, he’d give me vague answers, he’d ask me about my day, and I’d regale him with stories about the mean girls at school and the boys I had elementary school crushes on. He tried to teach me Spanish curse words, I tried to teach him what every individual Pokemon did, and in general? We got on pretty well. In a way, it was kind of like having an older brother or, if nothing else, having my father back.

It became ritual to drop my books inside my door and run straight back out to meet up with my new friend, but eventually, there was a hiccup. There’s always a hiccup.

It was one of those crisp fall days that seems almost perfect, where it’s not too hot, not too cold, the sky is clear, and everything just seems so vivid and alive. I rushed home, literally threw my backpack in the door of my apartment and watched the contents burst out and scatter across the floor, locked the door behind me, and bolted for the playground. I wanted to show off a new Pokemon card I was proud of, and also ask him for the bajillionth time in months about what a Pentacle of Solomon was. He still hadn’t told me.

The problem was that when I went to the playground, it was empty. I ran around the rickety wooden swings and checked under the slides and equipment, but the most I found were ants and broken beer bottles. So, I ran to the basketball court and, while I could find a couple of Dead Coyote’s regulars, I couldn’t find the man himself. It was weird and it felt very, very wrong, and my thoughts raced to whether he’d finally gotten arrested or, hell, finally gotten himself killed. Did he overdose? In my panic, I interrupted his regulars’ game to ask if they’d seen him, and my anxiety only peaked when they told me that, no, he hadn’t really come out of his apartment all day.

Now, you’ll think I’m dumb, but I knew where Dead Coyote lived. Sometimes, when mom was late getting home and I was too scared to be by myself, I’d slip over to his apartment a couple of buildings down and stay in his living room to watch TV. Since mom had a beat-up car that banged like a metal band, I’d always hear her coming and be home before her. I know in retrospect that I was basically asking for trouble, I know it’s weird that I could identify his regulars because I’d watch Who’s Line on his couch while he was dealing heroin in the kitchen, and I know it seems really weird that a grown man would allow that, but I was nine. I just knew I was scared at night, he was scary, and he’d protect me until mom got home.

So, I went to his apartment. I banged on the door. I yelled into the crack between the door and the jamb, I climbed up on his trash can to look in the windows. The entire place was dark except for little dots of glow that seemed to zigzag around the living room. Candles, I later realized, bright red like Christmas lights, flickering and dancing in the pitch black. I assumed that if candles were lit, it had to mean he was in there somewhere--it’d be a fire hazard if he was gone--so I banged on the window and---

Something grabbed me. Not from the inside, but from behind, an arm hooked around my waist and dragging me off the trash can. It toppled over with a loud crash, I let out the shrillest scream I think I’ve ever managed in my life, and I heard this awful, smug laughter from behind me as I was hauled, kicking and shrieking, around the corner of the building. It felt like all of the light in the world disappeared as I was carted down into the alley, the sun and the street a distant memory.

Then, my captor threw me down. I heard my back pop as I hit the brick of the building and my vision was blurred for a few seconds. When the world came back into focus, though, I could still see two sets of legs, and when I looked up at who they belonged to, I was both horrified and relieved to see that it wasn’t Dead Coyote. Relieved because, well, I didn’t want to think he’d hurt me and horrified because of who it turned out to be.

You see, every neighborhood (even the good ones) has the folks that you don’t want to run afoul of. Unless you’re their level of nasty, there is no possible way to ever endear yourself to them. There’s bad eggs with cream centers like Dead Coyote, and then there’s rotten pieces of shit like Joseph Shepherd.

Joseph was an eighteen-year-old punk who only felt alive if somebody else was hurting. He was the guy who once threw me in front of a bus and chased his ex-girlfriend down the road with a flask of battery acid because he thought it was funny. This was the type of person who legitimately should be locked up and the key conveniently lost. His friend? I had no idea who the fuck he was, but if he was with Joseph, he wasn’t anyone worth knowing.

“Well, well. Looks like we have DC’s little piece of jailbait, eh?”

Joseph stooped down to my level and yanked hard on my shirt. My back roared in pain and I turned beet red when I noticed him looking down the front.

“A little underdeveloped, but the fucker’s a freak anyway. Maybe he likes ‘em like that.”

“I bet she’s tight, though,” his friend offered, and that’s when I saw something in his hand. For a second, I thought it was a gun but, no, it was worse. It was a knife. One of those cheap little hunting knives you get from seedy gas stations. All I could think about from that point on is how much more awful stabbing would be compared to getting shot. I couldn’t even wrap my mind around the much more obvious implication.

I was nine. I never got the birds and the bees talk. I didn’t understand.

There was some more discussion, but my memory becomes a brief blur around this point, like a watercolor painting gone terribly wrong. I remember being jostled, I remember something wet on the side of my face, and then I remember hearing a loud howl of pain and a thud. The next clear thing in my mind was watching as Joseph’s friend hit the ground with a squall, eyes rolled into the back of his head, frothing at the mouth like a rabid animal. His hands curled into his chest, his legs spasmed, then his entire body began to convulse. Joseph began barking curses, but I was more worried about fixing my shirt.

What can I say? It was a lot to take in. I could only process so much. I didn’t leave the house expecting to get molested by a man who’d have an epileptic seizure in the end.

I mean, it was a seizure… right?

If it was, the world wound up seizing, too. As I found my land legs again and pushed myself up to my feet, the earth began to quake and the walls of the building began to tremble. The sun went dark and reality itself began groaning in agony. It was like listening a thousand chanting voices trying to drown the other out, as the air grew thicker and a rancid stench began to fill the air. For some reason, though, it didn’t affect me; I could feel the noise making my bones buzz and I could smell that awful smell, but Joseph was the one who was sliding to the ground and crying. He was the one whose eyes were bleeding, whose body was shaking, whose neck was twisting around like he was trying for a part in The Exorcist.

And he screamed. God, the things he screamed. Things he saw that were invisible to me, of stilt-legged owl beasts and dogs with rows of teeth like sharks. Men in armor with fanged horses. Goat-headed women with twisted horns decorated in bones.

Odd as it was, I was more scared of getting hurt than watching him get hurt, more scared of him than the ghosts he thought he saw. I ignored the pain shooting through my back, turned tail, and ran for the light at the end of the alley like it was relay dash toward the pearly gates. Tears streamed down my face as I turned the corner--maybe, maybe, if I knocked a little louder and screamed a little more frantically, Dead Coyote would answer his door--and I swore up and down and all around that I would never, ever leave the house while mom was at work and I would not stop running until I got home.

Except, I hit something as I rounded the building. After stumbling over Dead Coyote’s spilled garbage, I ran dead into the actual Dead Coyote. I was sobbing, he was surprisingly sober, and as a crowd of neighbors gathered around to see what the noise outside was about, he stooped down and grabbed me in a bear hug like a real big brother and kept telling me over and over and over that everything was okay. Everything was fine.

He sat with me when the police came after he, surprisingly enough, broke his own personal code to call them. They found Joseph and his friend passed out in the alley with no sign that they had been seizing or bleeding or screaming or crying. They were just out like lights, lying in their own vomit in between the buildings. I was told that I was lucky, because it was probably some kind of drug overdose that made them lose consciousness at just the right time, but I know what I saw. And I know what Joseph thought he saw, because he told me, shrieking, every last detail. And even as the police gave Dead Coyote an accusing glance as they drove my attackers off into the sunset, I somehow knew in the pit of my soul he wasn’t the villain in all of this.

“Hey. Princess.”

I looked to him curiously, eyes still puffy and wet. He was chewing his bottom lip and looking straight ahead, rapping his fingers against his thigh in that fidgety way he always did. His other hand absentmindedly combed through his hair before he gave me a sideways glance and nodded towards his apartment door.

“I think it’s about time I teach you what a Pentacle of Solomon is.”