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saphirered · 3 years ago

Note

Hi Saph! I’m only resubmitting in case my request was one of the ones that got deleted! I’m so sorry if this winds up being a duplicate though, I promise I didn’t mean to. Anyways! I was wondering if you’d do a Don't Leave Me/Snow White kinda thing for the C3 or ExU cast since you did them for the C1 and C2 casts? They were both some stellar pieces of fanfic!

Thank you for resubmitting! I went with the C3 bunch so I hope you like the way it turned out! 😘

(Ashton)

Fuck. Ashton is about ready to go on a path of vengeance and do something incredibly fucking stupid. It’s no secret that when you’re in the line of work he is, and you are you make some enemies and need to watch your back at times. The shitty side of that is that sometimes people way above your head get involved. You’d been hunted. You’d run. You’d done a fucking good job too. But in the end they managed to get you good a few times. A couple of arrows aren’t exactly the greatest when you’re the one being used as a humanoid quiver. Ashtons still doesn’t know how you found your way to their doorstep. You’d collapsed then and there and the crook house was enlisted to fix you up again.

Ashton sat around, plotting, tapping into all his resources and connections to find out who had done this to you. Most came up empty but some got them some good leads. Your condition worsened. Focus had to be on you. Ashton couldn’t rely on anyone else. You’d come to them after all, not anyone else. It’s the bare minimum he could do. He stayed by your side. If people wanted to hurt or kill you they might just come back and you left a trail of blood. You need someone to watch over you while you recover. You’d done it for them a thousand times over, now they get to return the favour.

The silent solitude of a singular never-changing room is not one Ashton copes well with. While the others do come by to check up on the both of you they can’t stay long. These guests do little for Ashton’s sanity and they’re getting antsy. So of course, like any sane person would they start talking to themself.

“It’s not fair. I always thought I’d be the one to end up here within an inch of my fucking life… again. Remind me to never do this again. It sucks and now I kinda know how you feel every time I fuck up bad.” Ashton grumbles setting their hammer down by the side table and taking up the chair, plate of food in hand. He takes the chair at your bedside , legs crossed at the ankles leaning on the bed taking little bites of whatever food Milo handed over.

“Leave it to me to care a little too much. You always say to never mix work and feelings but with someone as likeable as you; that’s fucking impossible.” Ashton grumbles putting the plate on the side table crossing their arms and leaning on the back legs of the chair.

“I say fuck that rule. When you’re back on your feet we’re going to break into the best place we can find and go shopping. Nothing screams love and affection like a good heist.” Ashton laughs to themself. “Or maybe you’d prefer some nice dinner some place fancy?”

“I don’t know about you but both sound pretty neat. It’s a date.” You groan. You hadn’t spoken in days so this response comes as a surprise to Ashton. So much so, Ashton falls backwards from the chair onto the grounds and like a good fellow ruffian you burst out in laughter. The genasi can’t blame you. It’s pretty fucking funny.

————

(Orym)

He wasn’t fast enough. Orym wasn’t fast enough. His entire life spent training to protect the people he cared about and he failed that very task when it mattered most. Orym is no stranger to casualties in battle but he can’t stop blaming himself, can’t stop repeating the hundreds of ways; if he had only done this one thing differently then maybe you would’t be laying on a bed being crowded by the healers attempting to save you.

You couldn’t get out of the way. The creature struck before you could take cover, its claws cutting through your skin like butter. Deep nasty wounds left in its wake started to fester the moment your body hit the ground, poison spreading. The group’s healers were on it, attempting to get you back to your feet and while you had regained consciousness for a brief second that was it. The bleeding stopped but that was the most they could do for you, so with all gold Orym still had, the others chipping in, they brought your body to more advanced healers. Upon arrival they got to work, sending the others away but Orym insisted on staying behind, making sure not to get in the way. He’d be damned if he let you out of his sight.

It didn’t help when the healers shared worried glances. They patched you up, working their magic, bringing ointments, poultices and the likes but the tension in the room was making him sick. Once they were done one of them came over to him, informing him that they’d done all they could. It was up to you now if you’d fight through or pass on into the embrace of the Matron of Death. So like a guardian he’d watch over you, guide you back to this world.

“We haven’t seen much of the world yet like you promised we would. You never break your promises. Don’t start now.” Orym’s fingers lace with yours. It’s so foreign to not feel yours curl into his in response. He tries to smile, even if you can’t see it, but that smile just ends up as a pained frown. Is this what the Voice of the Tempest felt like when she was faced with the loss of her lover? Never has loss felt this real, this deep and if he’s honest he could go without it for the rest of his life.

“Please, just tell me you’re not done yet. I need you here with me. I need you at my side so we can brave this brand new world together. Just-please.” Orym bows, pressing the back of your hand enclosed between his to his forehead in a silent promise, a silent prayer to whoever is watching, you’ll find your way back here. The winds can’t carry you away just yet. He stays like that and listens. Listens to the healers moving about, other patients in the distance, even the city outside. He waits and he listens.

Then… A sharp intake of breath, muscles tensing, that familiar grip responding. Orym looks up and meets your eyes; wide and disoriented until they land on him and calm. You smile, pull your hand still between his towards yourself and grasp back when Orym is about to let go. You turn your enclosed hand and kiss the back of his holding it to your chest, afraid to let go, afraid to slip away on the winds. Your journey isn’t over yet.

————

(Imogen)

Nightmares haunted her sleep and Imogen knew something was wrong. She saw you, at the edge of a storm, your hair and clothes blowing violently in the wind, your eyes pained, tears streaming down your face. You had one hand clutched to your chest while the other stretched out towards her. Imogen got the urge to run towards you. Something about you read as lost and frightened and she wanted nothing more than to make you feel safe and at home. When she reached you, reached for your outstretched hand her fingers passed through, and your shape turned to dust slowly, carried away by the wind. Pain ran through her when she woke up, released from whatever hellscape that dream brought her. But then the feeling didn’t go away…

Imogen couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong so she went to find you. She knew you had stayed up late and since you weren’t back in the room she decided to investigate, that feeling of dread growing heavier and heavier with each step down the hall. And then she found you, sound asleep on the couch. Your face turned to the back of the couch, the blanket you had tossed over yourself, slipping off your shoulders. Imogen expected to be able to breathe again but no. She stepped closer and then she saw it, some reddish-purple energy pulsed through your veins and your form was deadly still, unmoving, unresponsive.

Nothing seemed to wake you. Shaking you didn’t do a damn thing. Calling your name didn’t either. No usual means of waking up a person worked. She’d even thrown a glass of icy cold water in your face but nothing happened. So afraid she might lose you, she also didn’t want to leave your side, so she sat down on the ground, holding your hand, the only tangible proof of life detectible through the pulse at your wrist. At the very least that was a relief.

“Please tell me you’ll be alright. Tell me this is just some freak accident. Please, tell me this isn’t my fault or I might not be able to forgive myself. I need you to wake up for me. I need you here. I can’t do this on my own.” Usually you wouldn’t miss a beat with a response so the quiet that followed was plain torture. Imogen takes a deep shaky breath holding onto your hand tightly as if it’s a lifeline, be that for you slipping away or her reminding herself she’s here, with you, and this is real, however terrible; this is real. She lets the silence take hold, her mind wandering what might have caused this, is causing this and she’s loosing hope.

“Come what may, if you can hear me or not, just know that- that sounds stupid. You probably can’t hear me.” Imogen snorts stopping herself from saying what she was going to, as she rubs her eye, catching the tear she didn’t notice was there. Had she been crying? In a final attempt to get her message to you she tries to connect to your mind. It’s completely foreign when she doesn’t feel the connection take hold fully, yet still there.

‘I love you.’ The words echo through her own mind as much as she tries to send it into yours. Every second feels like an eternity and hope wavers but then something tightens in her grip, slowly. little by little the connection grows stronger. A shaky breath, this time not hers sounds and your eyes open. You look worse for wear but alive. Imogen stifles a gasp as you sit up, your head spinning and throw your arms around her.

“I love you too.” You whisper into her shoulder. Not even you know what happened or why but when you heard the lilac haired girl’s voice in your mind, it had been as much of a lifeline to you as you had been to her keeping the thoughts of others out.

————

(Fearne)

And so it’s once again confirmed that not all fey are as nice as Fearne and her grandmother. The one you got faced with did not take a liking to you, if anything it became a downright feud against you. You’d done nothing wrong. Not necessarily. If anything you’d been on your best behaviour but it wasn’t enough. You were an easy target, someone to be messed with, used as a tool in a bigger ploy and for this fact alone you’d pay the price. Despite what certain individuals may claim, plenty of fey love the theatre; especially the over the top dramatics and this particular fey, wanted you to play the lead role in a tragedy…

Your unmoving body lies beautifully on a bed of flowers, a crown of them braided around your head made from similar ones to Fearne’s. Call it what you want but it is poetic; a crown of poisonous flowers. You are dressed in the finest fashions money can buy, your hands clasped over your abdomen and the expression on your face is a peaceful one. It’s almost like you’re just sleeping. That is what Little Mister seems to think too as the monkey jumps up on the bed and begins pulling at your hands, though they don’t budge, so instead he comes for your hair but still no effect. He even tries to open your eyes but nothing. It’s like you’re in stasis; perfectly preserved. Fearne, at first let Mister run wild in the hopes he’d wake you from your slumber but when that proved futile she did tell him to stop. She can’t blame the monkey for trying but enough’s enough.

Little Mister is quite perceptive when it comes to his momma and sees the sadness you in your state brings her. He knows he can’t cheer her up because he feels very much the same but he does hold her hand as Fearne traces her fingers over your features, as if ingraining them into her memory. Like she is savouring every last one; the way you look, the feel of her fingers against your skin, but more than anything she wanted to see your eyes. They’re always so full of mischief, so alive and when you smile at her, or scold her for stealing, she loves that little half grin when you’re proud of her. She’ll see it again. She will make sure of it.

“I don’t really know what to say. The others said it might help but I don’t know.” Mister pulls her hair. “Anyway, I just want you to know everything will be alright. I am going to make this right. My grandmother always said there’s one thing you should never do when it comes to people where I’m from but for you I will take that risk. I’m going to strike a deal with the one who did this to you. You’ll be back on your feet on no time.” Fearne plays nervously with a lock of her own hair, plucking a flower from it. She kisses the petals before she lays it on your clasped hands. Then she leans in and kisses your forehead gently.

Feeling returns to your fingers, to your body and you’re back from the dreamworld you were stuck in. You feel soft petals against the back of your hand and out of instinct clasp the flower. Then you feel soft lips against your brow. Your eyes open and meet stare back at the faun in front of you. She looks happy. Happy is good.

————

(Fresh Cut Grass)

Fresh Cut Grass never really experienced loss since the incident and even then it’s vague because they only grasped the situation when Ashton found them. It wasn’t as direct. Then came you. You were always so chipper and friendly and simply just a joy to be around for them. You always managed to lighten the mood, especially when people needed it most. Your compassion was admirable and FCG saw you as an inspiration, a beacon in the void, always offering solace to those in need. Always chipper that’s why it came as a surprise when you approached FCG for something to help you sleep better. You’d been suffering terrible nightmares, to the point where you’d wake up screaming. You never told them what those nightmares contained but Letters did catch on you were hiding your exposed skin from anyone who could see right after. Eventually you felt safe enough to confide in the automaton and many nights were spent just talking after you’d wake up screaming once more.

One night Fresh Cut Grass had remained with Ashton, following up on some gambling before dragging the genasi to their room. Along the way he heard your scream but it was cut short. Quickly putting Ashton to bed FCG rushed over to your room. Knocking did nothing and while he didn’t want to intrude, you did state previously they’d always be welcome so with that in mind FCG wheeled in, seeing you seated against the headboard, curled up clutching something to your chest. You didn’t seem to notice him entering. You just stared to the other side of the room. FCG looked to where you were staring at and it was the open window which he ignored the moment he saw the stained red spot growing, dripping onto the sheets. Your hands clutched over the wound had already lost strength but there was barely a breath present still; hope still.

Knowing there’s no time to lose, FCG casts a quick healing spell and while it helps close the wound, there’s something else. Unlike any previous times healing you or your companions, you’d always been right back to yourselves, maybe a bit haggard or tired but never like this. He worries for you. Calling your name doesn’t seem to earn a response. It’s almost like you’re stuck in your own mind; just like the nightmares the two of you talked about for hours on end. FCG knows how completely and utterly terrified you are of those nightmares.

“Everything will be okay. You’ll be back in no time. Now don’t be scared. I’m right here. You’re safe.” FCG goes through all resources at their disposal, casting spell after spell to fix what’s wrong. “You had me scared right there. In the future maybe try and avoid dying because if this is what true sadness and loss feels like, I don’t know if I want to feel that again.” Little by little with each casting of a spell you do improve; colour returns to your cheeks, your eyes focus on movement, and though you stay quiet, eventually you get out of your curled up state and wrap your arms around FCG, holding them tight.

Fresh Cut Grass’ insides feel as if he’s holding another can of coffee or tea again. He wonders if maybe some was left from the last stash he kept for Fearne but then is reminded it’s gone. Analysing what it is, they realise it’s not some warm beverage. This is what it feels like to be wanted, admired, respected, a sense of safety and security. This is what it feels like when you mean the world to someone and that someone does to you. That’s a feeling he can get behind.

————

(Laudna)

This must have been a death Laudna could not turn into something chipper. There were no comment about how absolutely dreadful this passing of a living thing was with her usual attitude. For the first time in a long time the death of another truly hurt her. She’d always been able to let go easily, completely detached from common grief. Death is just part of life but now finally she gets why people aren’t as… well, gloomy and sad when it comes to the passing of a loved one. You hadn’t supposed to meet your end. Not yet. You hadn’t even lived a long and fruitful life. You still had so much ahead of you and Laudna feels sad that what you two had planned, the grand things you talked about wanting to do, you wouldn’t be able to accomplish.

They had brought your body back, to be readied for proper burial. Laudna had taken some moments alone. She’d tied some of the ribbon she uses in her crafts around your wrist; a little reminder of her you hopefully got to take with you into the afterlife. She’d cut a lock of your hair from amidst the strands where it wouldn’t be visible and went to work creating a little puppet of you. She tried to mimic your voice, your behaviour and while in her opinion she got pretty close, it just wasn’t the same. She’d rather have you here than the doll she made.

With these feelings arising, the voice of her patron did too, though Delilah had other intentions, wanted Laudna to hone in on it all, even promised to show her how to bring you back, give some ounce of information, but Laudna also knows that messing with the dead comes at great risk. While she was tempted by the offers her patron made, she wouldn’t put you through that. That being said, she didn’t know how long she’d last. It was only when Laudna started asking questions about how Delilah got this information, the lady backed off for a bit and Laudna could once more take peace in the solitude with you.

“You know, I’d never thought we’d be here like this. I’d always expected you to live some grand life like you always envisioned; one full of adventures. It’s a shame sometimes these things don’t go as they should but all good things come to an end. You were good. I am glad to have met you and I am sad to have to say goodbye.” Laudna adjusts the button of your shirt, straightening it. She combs your hair, even pinches your cheeks like she’d seen you do in the past but no rosiness returns to them, they just stay ashen.

“I guess this is goodbye then. May we meet again some day.” Laudna smiles, rising your hand to her lips and kissing the inside of your wrist; a marker of the life you kept, one she had always been fascinated with; your heartbeat, now lays silent. She lets go and steps out of the room.

When you awakened you gave some poor caretakers the scare of their lifetime. You feel different but can’t quite describe it. There was a lot of shouting but you couldn’t process it. You were laying on some sort of table but your back just hurt and you had to get out. Then the door opened and you’ll have to pride the caretaker for not fainting at the sight of the undead woman in the doorway smiling at you while black goo dripped from her nails. You’re back again. Your life’s not over yet and you’ll be spending it sharing your adventures with Laudna.

————

(Dorian)

People make mistakes all the time. Sometimes these mistakes can be the wrong choice of drink or missing the last step down on some stairs resulting in a face first fall. While he may not have actually fallen down some steps, Dorian wishes to all that is sacred he did because it’d be easier. Instead he’s here seated with your head in his lap, whispering pleas you’ll be alright while he waits for the others to arrive.

Long story short, it’s a stakeout; you and Dorian team up and cover the second floor. The group’d been hired to catch a thief with a tendency to cause chaos. Nothing too serious. So together you patrolled the second floor when he spotted your target. Of course you both gave chase but they were quick. You split up to cover more ground. Dorian had them cornered. No escape now. He failed to notice the muttering of a spell and the green hint of magic gathering at the thief’s fingertips. You did and rushed into the room from the side. In redirecting whatever spell was cast, you took the effects instead. You’d gone down instantly and the thief got away.

If he hadn’t been so stupid to split up, you didn’t have to pull such a stunt. If he wasn’t so stupid he might have noticed and avoided the spell. If he wasn’t so stupid, maybe you’d be here to tell him ‘I told you so’ when you called his plan terrible. You’d agreed to split up only because he suggested it, he convinced you. He should have listened to you. You should have stuck together. But instead here you are, under the effects of some kind of magic. You’ve not moved, nor responded to anything.

“I was reckless. I should have listened to you. I just had to be the hero, didn’t I? What do I get for it? You get hurt. I might as well have been the one to cast the spell.” Dorian speaks to himself. He doesn’t know why he does. Perhaps it’s some nervous coping mechanism o help him process and stay focused. Your wellbeing is his first priority. He’s afraid to move you more than he already has in case it does more harm. Can’t even trust himself not to make everything worse. It’s a downward spiral of negative thoughts and insecurities.

“You’d tell me to suck it up and deal with it.” He laughs shaking his head. “You’d tell me you love me and you forgive me. If I’m honest, I don’t think I could look you in the eye ever again if you can’t forgive me. It’ll take some time to work through but I’d hope to have you at my side still. I hope I’m still deserving of your love.” Dorian brushes your hair away from your face, waiting in solitude, trying to not let his mind wander. A few minutes pass.

Air fills your lungs, like you’ve been holding it all this time and you shoot up from your position. Between ragged breaths you take in your surroundings, until you see Dorian looking rather bewildered but happy no less. You throw your arms around him.

“You already summarised what I was going to say so I won’t bother to repeat the whole thing.” The smile in your voice is enough to ease Dorian’s mind just a bit. “I love you.”

————

(Chetney)

Chetney has a somewhat shady past, things he doesn’t like to talk about. His ‘none of your business’ reply whenever he is asked about more in-depth personal matters usually does the trick and gets people to stop asking about his past. In reality it’s not privacy that keeps him from telling, sure it’s one of the reasons but he doesn’t want people the people he’s growing attached to to view him differently. With you in the picture; the first person he’s gotten close with, truly close with in a very long time, he’s begun thinking you deserve to know. He doesn’t want what you two share to be based on lies and secrets.

He spent weeks working up the courage to come clean about all the evils of his past, weeks and he was going to spill it all. You were sitting in the tavern, together, the others still out and about while you shared a drink conversing. Chetney was enthralled by you, your kindness, your smile, all of you, he almost forgot what he was going to say. You ordered another round. The drinks came in and he directed the conversation to where he needed it to go, slowly ease you into it but before he could continue you began coughing. You gasped for air as if none would fill your lungs. People panicked and jumped to your aid, himself included. You looked so scared, so completely and utterly frightened, begging for help until your head lulled back and your eyes closed. You were still alive but barely.

Knowing he couldn’t fix you, Chetney would personally gut whoever was responsible for this and when he saw that barkeep that served you try and sneak out, he gave chase. He hated leaving you behind but this is the best he could do. It’s needless to say that Chetney is good at what he does and he sniffed out the barkeep. An interrogation and some spillage of red later, Chetney returned. He knew what caused this, he had an antidote. You’d be safe. He had to move quick though. When he returned to the inn they’d brought you back to your room. The real barkeep said the healers had come and stabilised you but a cure would still be a ways out.

You lay in your bed, peacefully. There’s no pain on your face, no fear either and that’s a relief. Chetney jumps up on the bed, sitting on his knees beside you as he takes out the vial.

“You know, I never thought I’d fear losing someone as much as I fear losing you. Everything will be alright. I took care of that bastard. They won’t try that again. You’re safe now.” Chetney says as he brings the vial to your lips, pouring the contents down your throat. In the meantime he sits and waits for the antidote to take effect. It’s a rare feeling but he confidently feels good about watching over you. Sure, you can protect yourself just fine but knowing he was able to truly help you, make difference. He finally understands what you mean. Your eyes blink open and you groan. You focus on Chetney who sits in anticipation.

“Hey, Chetney. You were going to say something? Why are we in my room?” You ask confused but the look of glee on the man’s face distracts you plenty. You’ll get a lengthy explanation and can’t help but feel a little pride in what this woodcarver has done for you.

#critical role x reader #campaign 3 x reader #critical role fanfiction #critrole x reader #ashton greymoore x reader #ashton x reader #dorian storm x reader #orym x reader #imogen x reader #laudna x reader #fearne calloway x reader #fearne x reader

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sumu-samu · 2 years ago

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This Episode of What Is Bel Doing Instead of What They Should Be (Imperium Edition)

Okay, as I am sitting here in class when I very much should be doing my work I have more things popping into my head about the redacted verse. CW: It is talking about the Imperium

1. So we know that Tank and David died when Tank did what Tank does best (diving headfirst into a situation) But like I can’t stop thinking that they couldn’t move on after that night and so just a little Tank ghost is constantly following around Ash and Milo. David was able to move on but They just couldn’t forgive themselves for being the reason why David is dead. They mainly follow Ash to just kinda keep a close eye on him and make sure He’s okay (which most of the time He’s not). And all while they see how everything they have done has affected the others in the pack they never can get it out of their head that everything is all their fault. And anytime Milo and Ash talk about them they listen extra hard to hear just the possibility that they are missed, loved and even the slightest forgiven but neither one of them says it.

2. Damien has burned Angel several times. You can’t tell me otherwise. It definitely wasn’t on purpose but he never apologized after, they either got into a fight and Damien just grabbed their wrist when they tried to storm away, or they were having some… fun time and Damien got a little excited. There was only once when Damien apologized for it and it was after a really big argument they had:

“I never did anything Damien!”

“THAT is your fucking problem! You never fucking do anything. I am always the one who does shit. You are a lazy bitch who can’t do shit for themselves!”

“I’m a lazy bitch? Damien half the time you don’t let me lift a goddamn finger! What AM I supposed to do? All I can do is sit here while you breath down my fucking neck!”

Damien all of a sudden gets really calm. “Well then…If my love is such a bother to you, maybe you’d like to see what it’s like when I hate your guts.” His skin starts to basically steam and he slowly walks towards Angel, and they’re just as slowly backing away from him with fear in their eyes. They know exactly what's going to happen.

“Damien… Damien please calm down. Dames, I’m sorry. I'm sorry but please stop. You’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring you… am I? You weren’t scared a second ago” Eventually Angel hits the wall and Damien corners them. “I. Love. You. And all the SHIT I do is for you. If you’re so pathetic that you can’t see that. Then maybe I have to show you.”

Angel starts to shake and sob, looking down at the ground. “Look at me.” They don’t. “I said…” He grabbed their faces, his body was running at a temperature it had never run before. “LOOK AT ME YOU BITCH!”

Angel let out a blood curdling scream and Damien snapped out of his fit, letting go of their face. They dropped to the ground still screaming and crying in pain. “Angel…. Angel, shit what did I do?” He fell down to Their level. “Angel let me see” He reached his hands out but they backed away, shaking. “Angel… My love, I'm so sorry. Please… I’m sorry, let me help. I can make it better just please. Let me see how bad it is.

3. Once they had gotten the information from Lasko’s computer, Freelancer was planning on trying to seduce him. The thought of it made their stomach turn and made them feel like they wanted to puke. But if it meant giving Vin, Vega and Anton more time, they would have done it

4. Half way through Asher’s tangent he went on about killing Alexis, Babe wanted to go to bed like he had told them when they walked in. The information being thrown at them was getting to be too much and they felt their head start spinning but like hell they were gonna let Asher think they were weak. So they stuck it out and once he was done they said good night and went to bed and had a full on break down before going to sleep

5. Avior is actually really glad that Starlight stayed and listened to everything he was saying because it meant that someone in the imperium could push the case and he would finally start being listened to

6. Vincent both loves to see when Lovely is weak and crying under him when he feeds, and pained that he’s hurting them because he also is secretly falling for them but hes not letting up because Adam had let them know that Vincent used to be “weak” and he was going to show them that he is NOT weak

7. The Freelancer x Vindemiator confession probably went something like this

It was the fifth time that Freelancer had to go to Lasko and basically beg him to see Vin again. He never scheduled them times regularly because he’s a sick fucker who likes it when they come to his office.

“I thought you said that you would start scheduling regular visits with him” Freelancer sat in the chair across his desk with their arms crossed

“I know, I know I said I would but the truth is that… I’ve been so busy that I sometimes forget. How about I make a call and see if I can get you in next Thursday?”

“No! You said that you would schedule so that I could see him on the 5th and 22nd of each month, AT LEAST, its now the 14th and I still haven't been able to see him because when I went on the 5th they wouldn’t let me see him because I wasn’t scheduled. You’re not being fair!” They stood up, and reached over as if they were gonna make the call themselves.

“O-Okay, okay. I’ll make a call and you can go see him tomorrow. How about that?” He snatched the phone back.

Freelancer didn’t say anything and just walked out of his office. The next day Lasko had held his word and scheduled them to see Vin. They walked into the room and Vin wasn’t there. Their blood began to boil and they knew they had been tricked. They were about to storm out and go yell at Lasko again when Vin walked in.

“Freelancer?.... Finally.” He pulled them in for a hug. “Wh-What took so long? I mean I know that school probably keeps you busy but… it’s been almost 20 days since you were here last. I thought you were allowed on the 5th and 22nd.” They sat down on his bed.

“Moore’s being a shit head. Every time I have to practically beg him to let me see you.” That made Vin’s mood change very quickly, “Wait… have you been keeping count?” The questioned

“Well… yeah… I don’t really have much else to do. It like a fucking prison almost. And when you’re not here the days are so lonely and long that I have to keep track so that I don’t lose my mind” He still had them in his arms.

“Vin…”

“Freelancer… I have to tell you something. And I… I just want you to listen while I do. You are the light in this shitty, evil, dark world. You are what keeps me going. Honestly I… I don’t know where I would be without you, but I know it wouldn’t be good. I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, because I just need to get it off my chest. It’s been eating at me for months and I need it to stop. Freelancer… I like you… way more than I thought I possibly could.”

Freelancer didn’t say anything for a solid minute, they just stared at Vin in shock.

“Okay I lied… I do care if you feel the same way… please say something”

“Vin… can I… can I kiss you?”

“Absolutely” Vin chuckled and Freelancer leaned in and pulled his face to theirs. Once they pulled away they still didn’t say anything just started into his eyes. “What does this mean…” He whispered

“Vin… I like you too.” They laughed.

“Oh… then… Can I kiss you again?” Freelancer nodded.

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goldengoddess · 4 years ago

Text

best part of me, sunshine

pairing: kaz brekker x reader

request: your work is literal art! the way you write kaz is so endearing. i was gonna request - if you’re up for it - a reader who’s a literal ray of sunshine as a human being and kaz being his moody self and their interactions whilst in a developed relationship. you can totally be creative with this one and you’re amazing!! :D

a/n: i got SO outta hand with this only bc i totally projected bc this is the kinda person i am LMAO also THIS IS TOTALLY MY FAVORITE TROPE OR RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC best best thing ever anon thank you for this request i hope u like it! and thank u so much ur so freaking kind

warnings: some angst? like kinda in the middle? basically kaz getting into a mood and taking it out on the reader a little bit but HAPPY ENDINGS PEOPLE

you were the best part of him

he knew it

you knew it

everyone around him knew it

your energy, the pure light you brought into the world, was the best part of kaz’s life

no one was sure when the two of you became a ‘thing’

one day you were just there

to kaz there was before and after you

and frankly he didn’t really care about the before

he just cared about you

but kaz was, well, kaz

he wasn’t exactly the most, um como se dice, easy to get along with person

but you never seemed to mind

your extroverted ‘i get along and love every person i meet’ personality had won him over the way it won over everyone else

and though the two of you were quiet literally the opposites attract theory, it worked

it worked really well

kaz had his moods

but they never seemed to bring you down

he’d stand in the corner of the crow club

broody and observant

and you would gracefully move through the crowd

and he’d watch as you talked with total strangers

and when you bid them goodbye they would be left smiling, or blushing, sometimes both

he couldn’t deny your affect on people

you made business boom

everyone loved your energy

and when they found of you were kaz’s they would laugh and shake their head in disbelief

you’d come up to him during a busy night and tug at his sleep

“kaz! theres a man over there who sells goats! actual goats! he was telling me all about it, i think we should get one? what do you think? kind of like a mascot, oh wait! maybe we should get a crow instead?”

he’d listen to you ramble and find himself leaning your way

soaking in your warmth

the corners of his lips involuntary tugging upwards the way they always did when you spoke

you’d drag him along occasionally

to meet someone particularly interesting

or meet a surprisingly cute goat named milo

sometimes he’d even enjoy being at your side

he liked how you showed him off like he was something to be proud of you

because you were

proud of him

proud to be his

proud that the two of you could love each other

you’d make the best comments to him throughout the night

whispered into his ear of course

“nina told me this woman actually came here from ravka! saints i’d love to go”

“kaz she is just so pretty! maybe i should dye my hair like that? what do you think? could be fun! oh you should totally do it with me.”

you filled his days in a way he didn’t know was possible

in return he slowed you down

you were sunshine, as the poets might like to say

and you were in constant motion

always trying to be active and helping others

always smiling

sometimes, even at the expense of your own well being and peace

you’d be up early, earlier than even kaz, busying yourself around his room or the slat

and you’d walk up to his bed as he woke up,

and you would be so tired, exhausted even

but you’d smile down at kaz

“can we just lie here for a bit?” he would ask

you’d let out a breath of relief

because he knew

that you were pushing your limits

and you’d lay next to him

fingertips brushing against each other

just for a few minutes

he knew the ways to make you recharge

so your sunshine personality was genuine and not faked

some days were decidedly not so great

kaz’s moods could be turbulent

he never meant to let them affect his attitude towards you

but kaz had suffered through hell, multiple times

and it just took over some days

you could brush certain things of

but then he’d push you away when you attempted to make him smile or calm him down

you’d leave a comforting hand on his shoulder, the way you always did

as he’d recoil

“saints, can you go do anything else” he would growl

or when he really needed to fight he’d yell something along the lines of: “you are not helping! you’re too much right now.”

and you’d flinch at his words

and he would regret them immediately

you’d stick your chin up higher and make your way towards the door

“kaz, i know you’re hurting right now. i’ll give you space, even though i don’t think you really want that. but this is how i am. i am happy. i am comforting. i will not let you make me feel less than for that.”

and you’d slam the door, hurrying to your room so you could breathe

kaz would follow you

his bad mood gone and replaced with deep deep shame

he never meant any of the things he said to you when he got into a mood, never

and you were right, he wanted to you there always

but another part of him pushed and pushed

he’d knock on your door the way he always did after he said something much too cruel for you

you’d open it, with your soft, beautiful, sympathetic smile

“you ready to stop acting so much like a teenager and talk to me?” you would ask, hand on your hip

he would nod and give you an actual smile, just to make up for everything

everything would be good by the end of the night

the air smelling of kaz’s favorite candle and your head on his shoulder as you recounted your day to him

everyone had, fittingly, dubbed you ‘sunshine’

you heard it even more than you heard your name at this point

to kaz, you were still angel

you always would be

but occasionally he’d throw in your most common pet name

like when you came up to him

buzzing with energy

all giggly and glowing

and leave quick kisses all over his face

excited and bubbling with joy and love for him

and he would just be blown away by you once again

how something so undeniably good could exist in this hellish city

he’d grab your face and a smile would tug at his lips

“you are the best part of me, sunshine” he would tell you

and kiss your forehead before walking off

unknowingly, leaving you with more happiness in your chest than usual

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x oc #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker headcanons #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker fic #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #shadow and bone #six of crows #grishaverse #jesper fahey #six of crows imagine #grisha #nina zenik #leigh bardugo

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years ago

Text

YA Vampire Love Story (2/6)

When Tim started at Louis E. Grieve Memorial High School, he’d just wanted to catch a criminal. He wasn’t expecting to find a pair of lifelong friends in Bernard and Darla.

Wait, does it count as lifelong if they stay friends after they die?

Part of my Colony of Gotham universe

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

TW: Temporary Major Character Death, Minor Character Death, Gun Violence, School Shooting

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

Thankfully, Bernard did not kill him. Or make good on his threats to sell Tim to the mythical Bolivian organ pirates. He was still a little upset when Tim told him, but he believed him when he said she’d been the one to kiss him and he’d turned her down.

Darla wasn’t as easily soothed, though, and had taken to avoiding Tim whenever possible and giving him the cold shoulder when they were forced to be around each other.

If that wasn’t bad enough, he’d also managed to do something to tick Stephanie off and she was giving him a similar treatment. Only it was worse because he didn’t even know what he’d done. One moment she was talking about giving him a surprise, the next she wasn’t talking to him. It ended up becoming an even bigger problem when they had to start working together for her Robin training. Bruce and Jason got frustrated easily by how short she was being with Tim, given Robin was supposed to be perfectly in sync to make the bit work. Jason started badgering Tim on what he’d done while Bruce started lecturing Stephanie about letting interpersonal relationships affect their work.

Dick had to intervene when Bruce brought up that maybe it would be better if she wasn’t Robin, given their relationship. He forced Tim and Stephanie to sit down and talk, which resulted in Stephanie blowing up when Tim admitted he didn’t know what he’d done wrong.

Her surprise had been that her school had let out early because of a bomb threat so she’d gone all the way to Bristol to pick up Tim for an impromptu date, only to see him kissing another girl.

Tim explained the situation and tried to reassure her as much as he could. He even made plans for her to meet Darla the next Saturday so both girls could talk. Bernard crashed the meetup and the day had turned out pretty fun. Stephanie was reassured, if a bit embarrassed and defensive. Darla was extremely apologetic for not believing Tim and forcing herself on him. Bernard thought the whole thing was a bit funny and made jokes about wishing a pair of gorgeous girls would fight over him too, which ended when Stephanie dumped her soda over his head. Tim was a bit mad that Stephanie hadn’t trusted him, but he also understood she hadn’t had the best experience with boyfriends before him.

They talked, worked through it, and ended up closer in the end.

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

“They have guns!” someone shouted and Bernard turned to see people running from an intersection where a pair of trucks had boxed in a limo. Four goons were holding a pair of bodyguard-looking guys at gunpoint with a girl pinned in one of their arms.

“What?” a voice asked and he turned to see Tim running up. “Tyrone! Bernard! What’s going on?”

“Wayne! Man, you gotta see this! It’s like GTA!” Tyrone said, watching the intersection with the same nervous interest that Bernard was.

Bernard frowned, squinting at the girl. He went pale. “Hey, do you know who that looks like?”

“Help me!” a too-familiar voice called.

“Darla!” Tim yelled.

“Stay in the car!” one of the goons shouted.

“Or we shoot you down!” another added.

“Please! Tony!” Darla cried, staring at one of the bodyguards, and the goon holding her growled something Bernard couldn’t make out.

Then all hell broke loose as the men on both sides started shooting.

“Oh my God! Milo! Help!” Darla screamed as one of the bodyguards went down from a headshot.

Bernard was just thinking they needed to do something, call someone, when a person went shooting past him. “Wayne! Get back here!”

“Are you crazy?” Tyrone shouted, futilely reaching for the smaller boy

Apparently, he was, because he ran right up behind the goon holding Darla and slammed a book into the back of his head.

The goon went down, releasing Darla.

Tim grabbed her shoulder and they talked for a moment before he pointed towards the school, towards Tyrone and Bernard. He pushed her towards them and she ran into Tyrone’s arms. Bernard expected Tim to follow, but instead, the boy turned to face off against another goon who had come around the side of the truck. The goon aimed his gun at Tim, but Tim threw his book, nailing the goon in the face. At the same time, Tim grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted the gun out of his hand. He tossed it under the truck as the goon clutched at his eyes.

“What the hell?” Bernard muttered. “Did you guys know Wayne could do that?”

Tyrone shook his head while Darla watched with wide, teary eyes.

Tim went around the truck just as the last two standing men -- a guard and goon -- fired on each other. The goon slumped back against the truck, breathing heavily, while the guard collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

“Tony!” Darla screamed and jerked towards the scene, but Tyrone kept her close.

Tim disarmed the last goon, then came towards them. A small crowd of students had gathered to watch and Tim immediately took charge. He pointed someone out and told them to call nine-one-one and ask for police and ambulances, warning everyone else not to call and risk gridlocking the system. He comforted Darla and urged Bernard and Tyrone to help him bring her to the nurse’s office.

Then Tyrone was shot in the leg.

They took cover as bullets started pelting the area. Tim pulled off his jacket and pressed it against Tyrone’s leg. When the gunfire moved on, he told Bernard and Darla to get inside the school and barricade the doors.

“What kind of guy are you, Wayne?” Bernard questioned, staring at his friend. Tim had always been on the serious side, but seeing him now… “These things you can do… You -”

“Not now, Bernard. Plenty of time to talk later.” Tim pulled off his belt and wrapped it around Tyrone’s leg above the wound, tying it tight. Then he pulled Tyrone up in a feat of strength that Bernard theoretically knew Tim was capable of since Bernard had known from moment one that Tim was jacked and they shared a gym class, but still seemed strange given how small Tim was compared to Tyrone. The four rushed to the school doors, Tim mostly carrying Tyrone. Bernard wrapped a protective arm around Darla, trying to keep himself between the sounds of gunfire and her. Once they got inside, Tim made sure there weren’t any students straggling before they started barricading the doors.

Thankfully the police showed up at that moment and started trading bullets with the goons and forming a perimeter around the school

Darla grabbed Tim as soon as he passed Tyrone off to a larger senior. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back as he looked around the group. He told them that they needed to gather up as many students and teachers as they could find and get to somewhere defensible, like the cafeteria. There was a chance some of the gunmen could have gotten in before the police arrived.

“Well, I’m sticking with you!” Darla barked, tightening her grip on his shirt. “Don’t leave me!”

Tim squeezed her, then tried to pass her to Bernard. “I need to go help.”

Then a gunshot rang out and Darla went down. Both boys shouted her name and Tim grabbed her, pulling her into a connecting hall for cover before pressing his ear to her chest.

“Tim?” Bernard breathed as Tim started compressions. “Tim, I don’t know what to do.”

“Get pressure on her wound!”

Bernard yanked off his jacket and pressed it against the rapidly growing red spot on her shirt.

After a moment, Tim pressed his ear to her chest again. “She-she’s breathing. And her heart’s… We need to move.”

Bernard gave a shaky nod and helped Tim pick her up. They made their way to the office, picking up a few others who’d scattered when the gunfire started echoing through the halls. They found the nurse, hunkered down in her office with a few students and she quickly set to work on Darla. The school didn’t have much in the way of trauma supplies, but Bruce Wayne had made quite the donation when Tim had started at the school and part of that money had gone to sutures and the training to use them.

Tim managed to disappear from the office at some point, Bernard only realizing he was gone when he returned with a makeshift saline drip and a few more students. The nurse opened her mouth to ask, but Tim just stuffed it into her hands and told her to hurry.

“How’s Darla now?” he asked as he watched her work.

“She’s unconscious again. Under the circumstances, maybe that’s a blessing.”

“Will she live?”

“I can’t say. She’s lost a lot of blood and needs better care than I can provide here. I think it all depends on how soon we can get her out of here and to a hospital.”

“Are they going to kill us too?” Bernard whispered.

“Not if I can help it,” Tim growled and Bernard turned to see him grabbing the bat he’d scrounged up during his disappearing act.

He grabbed the smaller boy’s arm when he started heading for the door. “Where are you going, Wayne?”

“Back out to have a look around. Maybe find a safe route and get Darla out of here.”

“Stay right here, young man!” the nurse ordered, glancing up for a second. “The police will take care of -”

“Yeah, they’ve done a super job, so far,” Tim snorted, then met Bernard’s eyes. “Lock the door behind me and stay as quiet as possible.”

Bernard wanted to tell him to shut up. To drag Tim back over to Darla’s cot and never let him go. Darla was… and Bernard couldn’t risk losing Tim too. But something in Tim’s eyes told him to let go, so he did. He watched his best friend slip out the door, then locked it and moved a heavy bookshelf in front of the door with help from a couple of the other kids.

Then he sat next to Darla’s head and waited. It felt like hours, days, weeks until there was a knock on the door, but Bernard knew it probably hadn’t been more than an hour. Tim called out from the other side that it was safe, the Colony had shown up and taken down all the gunmen. Bernard opened the door to find Tim standing there, a bruise on his cheek and traces of blood in his hair, but whole and mostly unharmed.

Bernard slapped his arm and told him to never do something so stupid again.

Tim just buried his face into Bernard’s shoulder without promising anything.

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

Despite all their efforts, Darla died en route.

The school shut down, paying out a small settlement to all the students and teachers who’d gotten caught inside. Bernard’s parents used it to send him to a private school in Sommerset instead of using it on the therapy he was pretty sure the money was intended for. He didn’t mind, he didn’t really want to talk to anyone about what had happened anyways. He was pretty sure Tim didn’t either, which explained why the two fell out of contact pretty quickly.

Tim stayed on Bernard’s mind, though. Especially when he found out his new school had a mixed martial arts program. He remembered how Tim had moved during the incident, taking down and disarming goons with confidence Bernard envied. He never wanted to feel that powerless again.

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

Bernard frowned as he stared at the street sign. He grabbed his phone and made a call.

“Hey, Linda. It’s me, Bernard.”

“Finally calling to say you’re standing me up,” she huffed.

“No, I didn’t stand you up.” He’d considered canceling, especially after his last talk with Sabrina had made him start wondering if he was as attracted to girls as he thought he was. He wouldn’t just stand someone up, though. “I’m still trying to find your house. Don’t take this the wrong way, but NSA code-breakers couldn’t decipher your directions.”

“What’s the right way to take that?” she sniffed, but he barely noticed.

The world outside his car windows had suddenly started to move down.

“And also, now my car’s rising into the sky.”

“You’re not funny, Dowd.”

“Oh my God! Oh my God! I’m not kidding! My car’s actually flying! Help me! Help me! Get the-Hang up and call nine-one-one! Tell them I’m at the corner of… of…” He looked out the window, squinting. “Oh great! I don’t know where I am, because your directions stink!”

“Ugh! Lose my number, jerk!” she spat and hung up.

The car imploded around him. Car parts flew away and rained down on the street as he was grabbed by some sort of force and brought up face-to-face with a floating woman.

He vaguely processed that she was talking to him, something about a friend and contacting someone, but it was buried under the fact he was in the clutches of a supervillain.

“Oh, no! Oh, no! Please don’t drop me! Don’t kill me, lady! I’m nobody worth killing! Honest! I’m begging you, lady, don’t kill me!”

She brought him closer and set her hand on his shoulder. “Settle down, Bernard. Aren’t we old friends? Why would I even contemplate harming you?”

He froze, staring at her. “That voice is… you look a little like… Darla Aquista?”

Her warm olive skin had turned a pure white and her dark blue eyes had disappeared into a white abyss, but it was her face underneath.

“But you’re dead! You died! I saw you!”

“Yeah, it’s me, Bernard,” she sighed, lowering them to the ground. “But don’t call me Darla anymore. It’s best that she remains dead. I’ve decided to go by Laura Fell now. That’s the false ID I was able to get.”

“And you’re some kind of costumed superhero now?” he asked, climbing to his feet. He had a superhero for a friend! A zombie superhero! Did becoming a zombie make your skin and eyes white? That made sense. He had a zombie superhero for a friend! So cool!

“Actually, I think I’m supposed to be working for the other side,” Darla said, cutting off his excitement, “but it remains to be decided. That’s part of why I desperately need to talk to Tim.”

“Well, Wayne Manor isn’t exactly hidden,” he joked.

“But it is protected,” she huffed, looking around. She pointed at a diner just down the street. “Let’s sit down.”

“Uh…” He looked over her outfit: a skin-tight red-black one piece, a matching cape, thigh-high red boots, golden gloves, and a skull belt. “Don’t get me wrong. You look hot and this is Gotham, but…”

She smirked, then raised her hands. Yellow energy washed over her. When it disappeared, she looked just like the Darla he’d known before. Her outfit had also been replaced by black leather pants, a red-black off-the-shoulder shirt, and red ankle boots. Her long, wild black hair had also been changed into a stylish, short ponytail.

“Cool,” he breathed.

She smiled and linked their arms to tug him towards the diner.

They got a booth and ordered milkshakes before Bernard asked, “So why can’t you just use your new magic powers to get through Wayne’s security?”

“When I said the manor was protected, I meant it was protected. There are wards on the manor that keep dark magic out. I can’t get within a hundred feet of the grounds without being invited in.”

“Seriously? Why would Wayne have something like that on his house.”

“Apparently, it’s -” she cut off as the waitress came by to drop off their milkshakes. Once the woman was gone, she continued, “It’s pretty common for old, wealthy houses like that to have wards. All it takes is one occupant having ties to the occult and the wards are there forever. Usually, their power fades once the family dies out or the property changes hands, but the Waynes have had that land for ages. One of Wayne’s ancestors probably linked the wards to their bloodline or something.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

“Right, which is why I need you to contact Tim for me.”

“That’s… not as easy as you make it sound,” he sighed, staring down at his milkshake. “Tim and I haven’t really talked since, you know, the shooting. And I lost his number when my parents changed our phones this spring. I wouldn’t know how to contact him without just going to his place. Maybe through Stephanie or his brothers, I don’t know.” He took a sip. “Listen Darla-I mean, Laurie -”

“Laura.”

“I know why you want to find Tim -- to help you sort through this -- but if you can’t find him, why not use me? I can help you become, y’know, a superhero. I can be your manager, or maybe even partner.” He leaned forward. “Maybe you can give me powers?”

“I don’t think that’s the way it works,” she chuckled.

“Okay, I had to take a shot.” He shrugged, then looked out the window. “You can at least fix my car, right?”

“I doubt it.”

His parents were going to kill him. At least they had insurance with Wakewater, so they were covered for weird stuff like this. “Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, that was one mean, dangerous way to get my attention.”

“It’s these powers, Bernard,” she said apologetically. “They’re born of darkness and make me want to do dark things.”

He grabbed her wrist and squeezed it. “Hey, it will be okay. We’ll figure something out. You’ve got me, and we’ll find a way for you to talk to Tim. And if he can’t help, he’s got rich boy connections. Surely someone he knows could help you.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Let’s take it one thing at a time. How can we get you and Tim in the same place?” He sucked at his milkshake, thinking. “You said you could enter the mansion if you were invited, right? Do you need to be invited in by Wayne -- Brucie, I mean -- or can you be invited in by anyone?”

“I don’t know. Depending on the wards, it could be Brucie or it could be anyone living in the house or it could just be someone on the grounds. I’d have to see the wards.”

“And you can’t because you can’t get close,” Bernard said and she nodded. “Well, then the only way to find out is to test it.”

Which was how Bernard found himself stepping out of a cab to press the call button for Wayne Manor’s front gate, his phone tucked against his ear.

An elderly man appeared on the video screen and Bernard vaguely remembered him being introduced as the Waynes’ butler the few times he’d been invited over. “Hey, uh, Albert, right?”

“Alfred, Mr. Dowd. Alfred Pennyworth.”

“Right, sorry.”

“It’s quite alright. It has been a while since you’ve been around.”

“Yeah, uh, I was hoping to talk to Tim, if that’s okay?”

“Master Tim doesn’t have any plans for the night so I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.”

“Cool. Oh, and our friend Laura wanted to come over too. Would that be alright?”

“Of course, she would be welcome to join you two.”

“Thanks!” he turned slightly to make it clear he was talking to his phone. “Did you hear that?”

“That worked. See you soon.”

“See you.” He hung up and smiled at Alfred. “She’ll be along in a bit.”

“Very well,” the butler said, then the screen turned off and the gate started to open.

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

In this chapter: Tim is 14 then 15, while Bernard and Darla are 16 then 17

Timeline:

Steph and Tim make up: Mar 11, yr17

Darla dies: May 23, yr17

Darla reunites with Bernard: Jul 17, yr 18

Before anyone can say anything, don't give me too much credit. I didn't get the joke of Darla needing a vampire's permission to enter a home until after I'd already written that part.

If anyone's curious, the wards on Wayne manor are actually tied to their vampire lineage, not bloodline, something more common for vampires. This means that so long as a vampire turned by a Wayne (or born a vampire with a Wayne parent) lives at the manor, the wards will remain. This is why the wards never faded while Bruce was on his pre-Batman journey. Alfred was turned by a Wayne, which makes him a Wayne vampire.

This has the funny drawback of making Barbara the Wayne heir since she's the first vampire in Bruce's lineage. If it came up, though, she'd forfeit the title and it would then go to Dick. That would have its own problems, though, because Dick's heir is kind of hazy. Technically Damian holds a strong tie being both of Wayne blood and the first of Dick's lineage, but Marie would also have a strong tie since she's Dick's first-born vampire. Dick would have to make the choice of if he wants to favor his blood or the Wayne tradition and name an heir that way. Of course, none of this matters if Bruce ever has a blood kid with another vampire. Should Helena be born in this universe (haven't decided yet), she'd be the heir as she's the first of Bruce's lineage to share a blood tie.

#Tim Drake #Red Robin #bernard dowd #darla aquista #timber #colony of gotham #fanfiction

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snootsnoot-fiction · 4 years ago

Text

I Heart You

Pairing: Denny Duquette x reader

Warnings: Mention of death, reference to sex (this was meant to be an aftercare fic but turned into general fluff mostly)

A/n: This is another birthday gif for @lemonboy-milo its officially been a year since i wrote my first ever fic as well, all for this gay boi, I hope your day is as good as can be

Summary: Denny can finally really look after you since his surgery...

It had been a long, and difficult few months to say the least. A heart transplant was no small feet. Nor was everything that came after. There was always a chance of the host body rejecting a new organ.

You were scared for weeks after Denny’s operation. You were more than grateful for his second chance of course - he was almost at the end of his rope on life before receiving this heart - but you were also way too aware that things could be snatched away when you least expect it.

Needless to say, no matter how strong you tried to stay for your man, it was you that ended up needing most comfort. Denny, as much as he hated the idea of leaving you, had personally made peace long ago with the strong possibility of death.

You had your moments of course. Moments when visiting in the hospital where you would be stronger than ever. It broke you to see him as he was, but you loved him with everything you had. So long as Denny Duquette was alive, you were okay. He was fighting for you, it was only fair you fought for him too.

After the transplant operation, Doctor Burke had gone over what was to come with you and Denny. The average recovery from a heart transplant was at least six months. So, when the man was finally able to go home a few weeks later, you took time off work to make sure you could do anything and everything for him at such a pivotal time. He was no longer in the hospital, and you didn’t want to take any chances.

Denny Duquette tried to get you to relax at times. Of course, he wouldn’t always succeed, but whenever he did, he made sure to promise to not do much. The amount you cared for him and his healing was something he would absolutely never take advantage of. Plus, the sooner he recovered, the better.

The man hated not being able to look after you. That was his one job in life - make sure you were alright. In all the events that occurred thanks to his bad heart, however, he had eventually learnt that taking care of himself was taking care of you. Naturally, he still had his bad times, but it was all worth it to prolong your life together, and keep you happy.

You had met Denny at the Seattle Grace hospital. He had struck up a conversation while the both of you were waiting in line at the coffee cart. His heart problems were mentioned, and ever since then you had been worried about him and anything relating to his heart. The man even gave you his coffee so you didn’t have to buy one after you expressed concern.

The two of you had been in intimate situations before, but never full on intercourse. As much as you wanted it at times, not only were you scared about his heart, but you were shy. All that mattered to Denny was that you were comfortable and okay. ‘When you’re ready darlin’ he would say. When his heart got worse and he got his new one, you would suggest you’d be ready when he was fully recovered, but he’d always gently turn you down, insisting you had to be ready. To be comfortable. To truly want it.

That being said, it happened so naturally. It was perfect and everything you could have imagined and more. It had been about seven months since the surgery, and the man wanted to treat you. The perfect indoor date, just the two of you. He went all out, even pretending to drop you off back home at the bedroom door. It was in that moment, as you looked into his loving eyes, emotion swelled up inside you like a hurricane. Before you knew it, you had pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

The rest, as they say, was history. At least it was up until now. You were laying in Denny’s arms, completely naked and content for the first time in your life. All your worries, in this moment, were nowhere to be found as this man held you to his bare chest.

“How’s my Y/N?” He asked softly as his thumb rubbed circles into your arm and he placed a kiss upon your head.

“Mmm great…” You murmured softly as you watched your own hand just sitting on his torso. “How are you?” You asked after a few moments, looking up at him. He knew you were thinking about his heart.

“I’m fine baby,” he spoke with a smile as he lifted one hand to cup your face, “more than fine. I love you so much dollface.” His words made you blush and you began to look away, but he gently grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, making you look at him again. “You’ve done so much for me this past year.. I am more than thankful for that.” All you could do was smile shyly and blush harder. He simply chuckled.

“What are you doing?” You whimpered when Denny slowly started to move.

“I’m looking after you.” He stated matter-of-factly as he gently laid you back down and stood up from the bed, pulling his underwear back on. “Uh- no no no!” The words came out firmly as he leaned over to press a hand to your shoulder when you started to move.

“I should be looking after you…” You pouted at him.

“Baby doll you need to relax okay?” His hand moved to cup your cheek again. “You have been looking after me since we first met, let me really look after you for once, yeah?” He waited, not wanting to let you get up. You could see the seriousness in his eyes. The love and desire to be his normal self again.

“Okay..” you eventually managed to mumble as you laid back as you were. Smiling, Denny’s hand brushed down your arm, grabbed your hand, and pulled it up to his lips for a kiss. His eyes sparkling with happiness as he looked at you.

After another moment, the man let go as he grabbed the sheets to pull them over your nude form. You grabbed the sheets eagerly, hugging them up to your chin.

“You need anything?” He questioned as he stood straight again.

“Just you.. cuddles..” your words made him chuckle softly.

“Is my baby thirsty?” The man gave you a firm look, making you nod ever so slightly. “I’ll just get you some water, okay? Then we can cuddle.”

You listened to the sound of his footsteps and the clink of glasses as he retrieved one from the cupboard. A grin creeped on your face as the seconds passed and you expected him to walk back in. The tiniest squeal left you when he reappeared, causing the widest smile yet to spread across his face and yet another blush to spread across yours.

“Here.” Denny moved to sit on his side of the bed before handing you the glass. He watched as you downed the water. “Very thirsty.” He commented as you placed the glass on the bedside table. You wasted no time in holding up the bed sheets and patting his spot, silently commanding him to now cuddle. “So impatient!” The man chuckled again as he slid under the covers with you.

Instead of cuddling right away, he laid on his side facing you, grabbing your hands and holding them to his chin.

“How did I ever get so lucky huh?” Letting one of his hands go, Denny stroked your hair with such affection you could have melted and fallen into a puddle on the floor.

“I don’t know..” you squirmed slightly, not used to someone caring for you like the man in front of you did.

“C’mere…” Letting go of your hands, he opened his arms. You squealed excitedly again, causing him to chuckle, as you turned around and wiggled back into him. Little spoon that you were. His arms closed tightly around you as he pulled you further into him as he breathed in your scent and let out a long, satisfied sigh.

“Y/N… I dont think you know just how much I appreciate everything you have done for me, especially over these last few months,” he whispered into your ear. You could hear everything he felt hanging on his every word. “I haven’t been able to look after you as well as I would’ve liked, but now with this new heart, I can do that and love you twice as hard as I ever did.. So I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself in for darlin’.” He nuzzled his face into the back of your neck.

“I love you too Denny baby.” Your words portrayed how soft he had made you feel. This man, who was unable to be the man he usually was for so long, had every intention of looking after you in every sense. You stuck with him all this time, helped him through all the bad, and now he was back to full strength, he was going to do the exact same for his precious baby doll.

#Jeffrey Dean Morgan #denny duquette #jdm #greys anatomy #denny x reader #denny duquette fluff #jdm fluff #birthday present #aftercare

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scarofthewind · 4 years ago

Note

Ok since my man doesn't get a lot of recognize in the horror community how about headcanon with being pregnant with bughuuls kids also i love how u write for him and all the rest of the slashers 💗💕

A/N: OMG I love that you requested him! Literally my whole ask box is 98% Michael and it’s good that I get a break from him every few asks. Hope you enjoy! I kind of got carried away because I love Bughuul so....my bad.

Warnigns: Breastfeeding, mentions of nudity

word count: 1.08k

You paused in your movements as you felt another kick from inside your swollen belly, a small smile gracing your lips as you sat back down in your chair. You sat by a large window in the library, watching some kids come and go, some asking for you to read to them and who were you to decline? However, at the moment, your eyes took in the abyss surround you from outside the window, wondering what it was like out there.

A soft creak at the doors, made you turn your head and your eyes fell on Milo, one of your lover’s favorite’s. “You don’t have to keep checking up on me, I’m fine.” You smiled and the boy sighed, sitting down next to you.

“I told him you were the last four times.” The boy grinned, fishing through his pockets to find something he’d brought back from the human realm. “He says that he’ll be back soon. This family we have is being difficult.” Placing his hand out to you, you see a small stuffed animal elephant, one made for an infant.

“Thank you, Milo.” You said gently, taking it from him and holding it in your hands, looking over it. A particularly strong kick to your stomach from the child within made you hiss and you waved off the boy as he stood quickly. “I think it wants out soon.” Milo nodded at your words and helped you stand, watching you place a hand on your lower back and waddle out of the library. He followed you around for a while, making sure you were taking care of yourself before heading back to the human world with a wave.

Bughuul never let you so much as step foot near the mirror; it was the portal to which they came and went between realms. After you had died and he brought you here, he never wanted you to go back, not knowing what affect it could have on you. You didn’t mind, the castle was big and had plenty of things that kept you occupied.

But sometimes it felt as though it wasn’t enough.

It was lonely when he went away for periods at a time. The bed was a little colder and the hours seemed to slow; you were the one who purposed the idea of having a child with him. Not only did the deity need an heir at some point, but it would help you when he was gone.

The mirror twisted, the black swirls within almost taunting you, knowing you couldn’t step through; not without Bughuul lecturing you for it later. Turning around, you made your way through the castle, walking down the hallway of windows that connected the top main floors together. It looked as though there were stars out in the reddened air surround the place. “Souls,” Bughuul had once told you what they were, much to your surprise. “Yours is in here, with mine.” He had pointed to his chest and you remember blushing at his statement.

Running a hand along your stomach, you felt a small hand press against yours and you smiled. “Hello, little one.” You cooed, feeling it run its fingers along your palm. Little did you know, you would be seeing the baby sooner than you thought.

Milo had come to check on you a few days later after constant pestering from Bughuul saying that something didn’t feel right. Being in the middle of another child’s mind, Bughuul had to stay where he was or he’d lose the opportunity to harvest the soul, so Milo went back to the castle, surprised at what he found.

“He felt it.” Milo told you as you held the baby in your arms, having been born only a few hours before he’d gotten there. “How are you?” He asked you and you waved his question off.

“I’m alright. Everything’s perfect, he’s perfect.” You stared down at the little bundle of joy in your arms.

“As it should be.” Milo smiled when you let him see the child. “He’s cute. I guess this is what Bughuul looked like before his mouth and eyes were taken.” You nodded in response and smiled when the baby looked up at you and grinned, gums and all.

“He’s got dimples.” You laughed, feeling your eyes water and a few tears fell down your cheeks. “I can’t remember a time when I’ve been this happy.” You looked over to Milo who gave you a gentle smile, wiping a tear away before standing.

“I’ll go tell him the news. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” And with that, the boy left again, leaving you with a happy baby boy cradled in your arms.

It was another two days before you saw your lover. You were in the hallway of windows again, looking out, your mind elsewhere as your baby fed off your breast. Tightening your grip on him, you gentle rocked him as he fed, eyes closed and breath calm. You could hear footsteps approaching you and an all too familiar feeling surround you; home. “Motherhood suits you,” His voice was deep as you turned to greet him.

It took everything in him to contain himself with how beautiful you looked, “My love you look lavishing.” You wrapped an arm around his shoulder and hugged him the best you could with the baby still in your arms, pulling back you pressed your mouth to where his was and he hummed in content. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you when he came,” Bughuul groaned to himself, taking in the form of the baby on your breast.

“It’s alright, you can be here for the next one.” You smiled as he hummed in approval, looking down at his offspring in content.

“I was worried he would bear the marks I do,” You could feel a sense of relief coming off of your lover and you leaned against him in comfort, “He’s lovely.” You let out a noise of agreement and felt the baby pull away from your breast, letting you cover it before he snuggled against you, one hand gripping the neckline of your top.

“He’s bonded with you,” Bughuul stated and you looked up at him.

“And he will with you, just give it time. He’s only a few days old but he knows who his parents are.” You smiled warmly at the man and he nodded, placing a hand on your lower back and guiding you through the castle.

#bughuul x reader #bughuul #sinister #horror imagines #horror x reader #scary movie x reader #[✉️].request #🍰.fluff

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heloflor · 4 years ago

Photo

So, given that I didn’t have much time to work on fics recently because school, I’ve decided to relieve some stress by making a random representation of how I imagine Cavendish and Dakota’s house in their time-period looks like. And since I have no plans to ever describe it in detail in a fic, here it is ! Though, given how bad I am with designs, showing the house is mostly an excuse to infodump on domestic headcanons.

Regarding the last names, I didn’t make a typo for Cav. I like to imagine the two getting married way before the events of the show, with Cav taking “Dakota” as a last name, mostly because he got several siblings in-law on the Dakota side who adopted him on the spot.

And about the representation of the house : yeah it looks like shit. Since I can’t draw, I’ve decided to do something rather quick using MSPaint but yeah, not the best thing in the world. Though, if I get back to playing the Sims 3 at some point and end up making a Dwampyverse savefile, I’ll most likely try to recreate that house and could share a few pics.

I also went with a rectangular house with one floor instead of some futuristic-looking thing, mostly because I have no imagination when it comes to design. Though, you could still use the excuse that they want something more “old-timey” given their job or that they don’t have all the money of the world so they chose a simple house for the small cost. But yeah, by the end of the day, the choice is mostly because I can’t design shit.

But still one thing in my defense : looking at episodes that take place in the future like “Missing Milo” or “First Impressions”, it seems that most buildings are square-y with the roof being the weirdly-shaped part, with B.O.T.T. being one of the few exceptions. And looking at “A Christmas Peril”, the buildings are definitely more wacky but it’s 20 years later so…

I could also mention that I’m a bit unsatisfied with how empty the living-room and the bedroom ended up being but I’m drawing a total blank when trying to come up with the kind of stuff Vinnie and Balth would have that are linked to their interests. Though, maybe the excuse of them not being often at the house works ? Idk. Let’s just say I have ideas for the “basic” stuff, aka what you find in basically every single middle-class house, but draw a complete blank for anything that’s decorative. Still posting a map of the house tho because I don’t really consider it a work in progress if I simply have no idea and may never do. I’m very bad at design so bear with me on that one ! It’s not only about the house, it’s also about the fluffy headcanons !

So here’s under the cut some random info about the look of the rooms and furniture + a bunch of headcanons regarding Vinnie and Balth’s lives in this house. For each part of the house, you first have the info about how it looks first and then the headcanons.

Those headcanons are made with the idea that Vinnie and Balth are married (duh) but also, for a few, that Vinnie has three siblings + a few in-laws that he has a good relationship with.

(very long post ahead)

General :

- They bought the house in 2162, 2 years after getting married.

- It’s in the suburbs, or at least what the future version of the suburbs would look like. In other words, the presence of a backyard is debatable.

- There could be a garage for their time vehicle, so that they don’t have to go to headquarters every single day. And if not an actual garage, there’s at least some space to put it. In both cases, it would be near the bedroom’s side of the house.

- While the walls outside would have that futuristic “metallic” look, the walls inside would be a bit warmer. At the very least, the inside isn’t “future metallic white”, especially with Vinnie having photophobia.

- The intensity of the lights in every room can be adjusted. That way, Vinnie can put the dimmest light and navigate the house without his glasses. This is mostly useful for showering and midnight snacks.

- When they went house-hunting, Balth was the one who insisted that they needed a place with those kinds of lights. This is also the same kind of lights that Vinnie had in his now-former apartment.

- You know how near the end of the episode “First Impressions” you have Balth going into Mr. Block’s office ? Well, the way the door opens in that moment is how the door opens for every room of the house, perhaps excluding the main entrance (I like the idea of their front door being an “old” one, aka the “normal” doors we have today).

- Every room would have a spot that can create “tactile panels”, like some holographic tablet that can be used to change the settings of the house, for example changing the lights or the internet or even lock the doors and blinds.

- In 2175, when they were forced to leave the future, Vinnie stole a device from B.O.T.T. that made him able to create some kind of forcefield around the house that only he and Balth can remove. So, even if they’re not there anymore, the house still is theirs and can’t be sold to anyone else. And before you ask why B.O.T.T. didn’t simply send agents to bring the duo back and force them to open the shield : the forcefield works with hand-scan detection and Vinnie convinced Balth to use their left hands, the hands with the wedding rings. So if time-agents come knocking, they could try convincing the agents to let them use the bathroom first and they could wash their hands and use the soap to remove the rings. That way, the scan wouldn’t work and the agents would have no way of knowing why.

Living room :

- There’s more furniture than showed here like souvenirs from previous missions or some random stuff that belongs to them. I just don’t have enough imagination. : /

- Likewise, the corridor has a few pictures or posters, like pictures that Vinnie didn’t have the space to put in his memory room but still wanted to display. Also, I want to say that Vinnie would display pictures of his family (sibling, in-laws and nephews) but I’ll see him more as having an album for family pictures, or a framed picture on his nightstand.

- There could definitely be a carpet or two. They would either be modern ones to fit the fact that they’re from the future or vintage stuff found in some of their missions. One of the carpets would be under the coffee table. Another would be in the big-ass space between the living-room and the kitchen, or in the corridor.

- The style is a mix between old and new stuff, with also a few things related to their interests. Like, for example, the couch could have an animal pattern or something (AND BY THAT I DON’T MEAN REAL ANIMAL FUR).

- Speaking of the couch, after looking up “futuristic couch” on the internet, they would absolutely have one of those gigantic couches that have like a bed attached to them due to how big they are. Btw I have no idea which company came up with this design and I couldn’t care less. It’s just that the design looks cool and would fit a futuristic house.

- The side table is a floating square, given how we see in “A Christmas Peril” that tables in the future don’t have feet anymore (that’s one way to protect your toes).

- The floor lamp is more futuristic. It’s like a white orb attached to a lamp foot.

- The TV is attached to the wall. The remote is some kind of holographic tablet, kind of like the house settings thingy.

- This is where Balth would spend most of his mornings and evenings when they stay home. He’d just be sitting with a cup of tea, most of the time also a book, with the sun illuminating the room, just feeling comfortable and peaceful. The side table/cube was bought specifically for Balth’s tea. He would also use the lamp while reading in the late evening, either for the peace of having little to no light and solely focusing on the book or as a way for Vinnie to be in the room with the lights at the lowest setting. And speaking of Vinnie, he would sometimes join his husband on the couch, lying down with his head resting on Balth’s legs (cue Vinnie falling asleep, leading to a frustrated Balth who needs to pee but doesn’t want to wake him up).

- Since there’s a mini-table for when Balth drinks tea, the table right in front of the couch is mostly used for Vinnie to rest his legs on.

- And speaking of fluffy headcanons : movie nights. From time to time, aka minimum once a month, probably more, the couple would be in their pajamas cuddling on the couch while watching a movie, with Dennis resting in Balth’s arms.

For the movie choices, Balth would choose science-fiction, especially if there are any Professor-Time-themed movies, but also historical fiction (for some reason I tend to see Balth as having a liking for history ? I think it’s because of the way he dresses + his small rant about pirates in “Game Night” ? Idk honestly. It’s mostly a random headcanon that’s here for some weird reason). As for Vinnie, it’s mostly animal documentaries (Balth falls asleep halfway through but Vinnie doesn’t notice until after it’s over) or animated/family movies (the future equivalent of D*sney, S*ny pitcures, P*xar etc. Which are movies Balth would enjoy as well). For some weird reason I’ll also see the two of them being into mystery movies (crime-solving movies basically).

And if they sometimes decide to watch other genres, I could see Balth having a liking for some romance movies, because for some reason I like the idea of Balth being sappy. Besides, the guy is passionate when it comes to proving himself at his jobs and takes them pretty seriously in order to reach his objective. And given how he can be insecure and sometimes feels like a ball of anxiety, who’s to say he isn’t passionate when it comes to love too ? And no, I don’t mean passionate as in “making out all the time”, I mean passionate as in taking relationships seriously and making it work while also wishing to make sure his partner knows that he’s loved, even if Balth isn’t really the best at expressing his affection all the time.

On a different note, to get back to other genres : Vinnie would probably like horror movies. Because if cuddling in front of a sappy movie is great, having your husband show his love and trust for you by clinging to your arm out of fear is even better, nevermind the fact that you’re as terrified as he is.

Kitchen :

- It’s one of those kitchens with two walls of cupboards/cabinets, both on the ground and elevated. One of the cabinets is used entirely for snacks. Because Vinnie.

- The wall separating the kitchen and the living room “has a hole in it”. It’s like you have a small wall with cupboards, a hole, and a wall connected to the ceiling with a few cabinets. Basically, you look up “kitchen cupboards” and imagine that the space in-between is a hole instead of the wall (why is it so hard to explain something so simple ?).

- This would be the most futuristic-looking room of their house. Looking up at references, they’re that Pinterest post showing a room with white cabinets with round corners and what seems to be slide doors. This is pretty much how I’ll see their kitchen, except bigger, with a different wall color and with one wall not being here (see above).

- The table is floating because of course it does. The chairs don’t tho. Also the chairs are as futuristic as the rest of the room. And looking up the internet again, the chairs are shaped like chairs.

- So I put a stove but tbh I’m not sure how much these two would cook, given how in the show they’re always seen eating out (granted they don’t have a kitchen in their ‘apartment’ in Milo’s time). And given how most things seem automatized in the future, let’s just assume that the house can do most of the cooking itself with like a robot (aka plot-convenience technology) but still needs the necessary furniture and ingredients for the recipes. Also, if there’s an issue with their cooking system, they’ll probably know a few recipes and can feed themselves (Vinnie’s oldest brother Enzie would definitely teach his younger siblings a few recipes, at least enough to survive on their own. And he would be more than happy to teach his brother in-law as well).

- I put 4 chairs at the table but honestly I could see them keep 2 at all times and put the others in the storage room, especially the times they get very busy with their job for a few weeks and don’t have the time for social life.

- At some point, Balth probably tried to convince Vinnie to have better food habits and tried to put his snacks on the higher shelves. Not only did it not work because chairs exist but also it led to Vinnie getting frustrated. So Balth dropped it. Though, he would still try to talk Vinnie into working out to stay rather healthy.

Memories room :

- Vinnie’s personal space. He basically saw the third biggest room of the house and went “mine now” and Balth had no issue letting him have it (hard to say no when Vinnie’s eyes shine like that).

- He already had a memory room in his old apartment.

- Basically, Vinnie brings back souvenirs from his missions, along with pictures he took, and put them on display. For more information, I made a post about it a while ago, so check it out if you want info on it.

And side note : I learned more about ADHD and autism later on and found out that the correct word for Vinnie’s passion for animals is a special interest, not a hyperfixation. The main difference between the two terms is how long your interest last. The reason I used “hyperfixation” in my post is because 1. I didn’t know that “special interest” was a term that existed and 2. people with ADHD kept talking about having hyperfixations and most people see Vinnie as having ADHD. So yeah, my bad for using the wrong term. And while I won’t change the current text from my post, especially with someone in the notes correcting me (I don’t want them to look like an idiot), I’ll definitely add a few words at the end of the post about it.

- This is where Vinnie spends most of his time when at home, trying to keep the room in the best condition.

- There’s a window in the room but Vinnie condemned it in case some of his souvenirs were sensitive to the sunlight.

- The room is made entirely of shelves, with like four-five rows on the same wall. The shelves are either integrated into the walls or they’re floating because future. In any cases, there’s nothing around the shelves, it’s just shelves with stuff on it.

- When you enter the room, one of the rows of shelves next to you has all the animal-related stuff he gathered before starting a relationship with Balth. The rest of the room can have a few animal-themed objects but the pictures tend to be more linked to him and Balth.

- Likewise, when you enter the room, on the shelf you’re immediately facing, there’s a miniature recreation of their wedding altar with their wedding picture in its center. The miniature is made out of the future equivalent of papier-mâché and the altar is themed around time-travel with objects from all kinds of time-periods and cultures. And for those who might ask regarding the picture : Vinnie has a black suit and carries the bouquet while Balth has a white suit. Both have a hat that’s basically Balth’s usual hat (with the Professor-Time goggles, because themed wedding) but colored like their respective suit.

Balthazar’s office :

- The room has quite a few libraries but this is mostly decorations. Basically, this room is more of an 1800th century study than anything, especially a rich/royal study. Yeah, for some reason I see Balth as having an office that’s just “rich 1800th century” aesthetic. I think it’s from the headcanon of him being a runaway prince 🤔.

- So yeah. The bookcases are vintage, the piano is your usual black piano, the armchairs are vintage and tbh Balth almost never uses them because he’d rather read in the living room, and the desk is vintage, though the stuff on the desk is futuristic. Balth is up to date with the technology he’s using to work, he just likes the older aesthetic for the rest.

- On his desk, despite literally living with the guy, Balth has a framed picture of Vinnie (again, I want the stubborn gay disaster to be sappy from time to time, with his love language being small touches and attention to details like for example being able to quickly see the kinds of foods Vinnie like the most so that when he’s in a bad mood, Balth can get him that specific food to make it better ; or learning Vinnie’s body language to know when he’s upset or bothered by something).

- Balth mostly spends his time here to make the reports on their missions or work some administration stuff when needed. When he isn’t at his desk, he’s there to play the piano.

And yes, I throw out the window that line from “Backwards to School Night” that indicates Vinnie doesn’t know about Balth playing piano but tbh I ignore or question quite a few things from this episode such as : the line indicating that Vinnie and Balth don’t live together in their time-period since Balth doesn’t know Vinnie’s weekend habits ; the line about how the ray thing age you down to 90% your current age and yet baby Vinnie seems younger than the parents despite his adult self seeming older; the fact that Melissa read a book 16 times in the span of 6 minutes ; the fact that it’s called a “age regressor ray” and not a “age regressor ray-inator” (seriously, I am the only one always expecting Vinnie to say “inator” and being disappointed when he doesn’t ?).

- The couple absolutely sing songs together with Balth playing the piano. Or at least Vinnie would sing a song in the middle of the living-room and have Balth be annoyed by it, only for Vinnie to hear Balth play the same song on the piano later and join him.

Bathroom :

- Not much to say here. It’s a bathroom. It’s futuristic-looking. The mirror is a cabinet. The tub is round. The bin comes in and out of the wall. The clothes drier also irons the clothes. The toilet is glued to the wall. The walls are dark gray or dark blue or at least a darker color so that Vinnie doesn’t have to dim the lights to the lowest level when he’s showering. There are also several little lights along with a main one so that Vinnie can light the small ones instead of getting a headache due to the brighter light. During lazy/slow days, Balth would take baths instead of showers (and Vinnie would want to join him to make out). Balth may or may not sing in the shower (Vinnie definitely does). That’s pretty much it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Guest/Storage room :

- Only used as a guest room when one or several members of the Dakota family are visiting the states and end up in the Tri-State-Area. So for 90% of the time, the room is used as storage.

- Bed’s not that big and very “squary”. Might or might not be floating.

- It’s mostly random junk that they don’t know where to put and don’t want to get rid of, like some stuff they got from their missions but that Vinnie doesn’t want in his room or some old things they want to give at a garage sale or that one Professor-Time body-pillow that Balth refuses to let go of while Vinnie just wants to trash the thing. The body-pillow being in the storage room in a junkpile was their compromise on the issue. Also, whenever someone might stay in the room, Balth makes sure there’s no way they will find the body-pillow (his sister in-law Bettie would never let him live it down).

- Not much to say here either aside from that.

Master bedroom (the room in which the proportions are way bigger than the rest of the house because I have no idea what I’m doing) :

- I described the room quickly in my fic “nightmares” but yeah basically the room has several posters and pictures related to their interests, along with a bookshelf full of animal encyclopedias, time-travel facts, history books, Professor-Time fantasy books etc. There are also albums, whether it be family pictures or album of the two of them.

- Like for the living-room, there can definitely be more than what I described/pictured here. I’m just really bad at imagining the kind of stuff people would have in their bedrooms related to their interests. And speaking of which : at some point, there was the aquarium that Vinnie mentions in “Time Out”.

- Unlike the other rooms in which the windows have roller blinds (apparently that’s the english word for it ?), this one has curtains on top of it because Balth likes to open the window in the morning but he doesn’t want Vinnie to hurt his eyes. So with curtains, he can open them enough to light the room but not enough for the light to reach Vinnie’s face.

- The bed is pretty classic for a futuristic bed but with round edges and these two idiots definitely go crazy with the sheets design (animals, food, Professor-Time, past time-periods, stuff like that). Also, the bed is “open”. By that I mean that, if you look at futuristic designs, there tends to be some roof thing above the bed and linked to it. They wouldn’t have that.

- The nightstands are floating cubes.

- “Dennis’ chair” is just some random old wooden chair where Dennis stays most of the time. Balth almost never takes him during his missions and Dennis is a comfort object that Balth mostly talks to when sitting on the bed, movie nights aside. So the bear stays in the bedroom.

- The bookshelf would also be made of wood.

- The wardrobe is futuristic, with doors that can open by themselves with sensory detection. Also, unlike what that poor “drawing” shows, the wardrobe is “taller” than it is “larger”.

- The armchair is an egg chair.

- They sleep

- They spoon

- Balth is the big spoon because 1. he’s taller and 2. he grew up sleeping while embracing a teddy bear and old habits die hard.

- When Balth goes to sleep or wakes up, he can’t help but play with Vinnie’s hair and give the small man a few kisses, feeling satisfaction in seeing his husband smile or try to pull away while laughing.

- Vinnie sleeps on the side closest to the window while Balth sleeps on the side nearest to Dennis.

- Balth’s nightstand has an alarm clock that’s basically just a holographic square with numbers on it, while Vinnie has an album or some random animal trinket. Vinnie’s alarm clock is not feeling Balth’s warmth against him. But if Vinnie has to use an actual alarm, the sound would either be some old-fashioned song or an animal noise (is this starting to get too much insistence on the “animal-loving” side of him ?)

- While Balth likes to read in the living-room, Vinnies likes it better to chill in the bedroom when reading. Also, during weekends and vacation days, Balth would sometimes read in bed before sleeping (yeah for some reason I really like the idea of Balth being a reader. I think it has to do with him being old or british ??? Weird brain is weird. And besides, if Balth reads, it would most likely be science fiction related to Professor Time). Vinnie uses this time as an excuse to cuddle.

- They have themed pajamas. Balth mostly has Professor-Time stuff (clocks, Heinz or Perry’s faces etc) while Vinnie has mostly animal-themed or food-themed pajamas.

- Vinnie sometimes sleeps naked in the summer. Balth is still trying to figure out how he feels about that.

- Random headcanon regarding Dennis : while he belongs to Balth who keeps him close when in doubt in order to vent or when he wants to get comfortable somewhere, I actually like to believe that, between the two, Vinnie is the one who talks the most to Dennis, mostly because Vinnie would just enter the bedroom and casually greet the bear, or he and Balth would have a dumb argument and Vinnie would playfully tell Dennis “Can you believe that guy ?” while pointing at Balth. Just, Vinnie being Vinnie and having random one-sided conversations with the bear.

And a little cute thing : while Vinnie really just talked to Dennis because why not, seeing the guy like the teddy bear so much would actually make Balth feel better about himself. I like to believe that grown-up men having plushies would still be seen as a ridiculous thing by most people (because toxic masculinity) and Balth got the habit of hiding Dennis when he was still trying to find the right guy for him. So seeing Vinnie have no issue whatsoever with the teddy bear and even liking him would definitely help Balth’s confidence, along with warming his heart.

- And since this post is all about headcanons : two things about phones and these two being sappy that have nothing to do with houses.

1. One day, Balth left his phone on a table and Vinnie decided to take a selfie with it because why not. After seeing that, Balth acted frustrated but ended up putting the pic as his phone background. Ever since, Balth’s phone background is a picture of Vinnie. The most recent one is from “We’re Going to the Zoo” with a picture of Vinnie holding squirrels in his arms while a third one is coming out of his pistachios-filled pants. The pic on the phone is a closeup, only showing Vinnie’s head and upper body. And for those who like angst, I’ll let you imagine how he must have felt having this as his phone background during the rogue arc.

2. Vinnie’s (numeric) phone password is 2703, aka march 27, the date of his wedding anniversary. The day is put first and the month second because Europe. Also, during busy weeks, this would be a good way for Vinnie to remember the anniversary.

(fun fact : I was trying to come up with scenarios for fics when I ended up thinking about Vinnie’s password and that number came to mind. So I just went “guess that’s their wedding date now”)

#Milo Murphy's Law #Vinnie Dakota #Balthazar Cavendish #Dakavendish #long post #VERY long post #headcanons #Flor talks #hey look I'm rambling again about random shit #I am SO. BAD. at design #but yeah #have a house #and random ideas #also have Balthazar Dakota #it sounds more and more normal when you think about it a lot #also Dennis Cavendish #or is it Dennis Cavendish-Dakota ?#now to edit the memory room post

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onlysarah235678 · 4 years ago

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A Little Bit Part 11

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

A/N: Hi there. Thanks for sticking with this story. We’re making our way towards the end, slowly but surely. Thanks for the awesome gif, illuminated-blue. Enjoy!

Warnings: angst, discussions about death (I put *** at the beginning and end), brief mention of unhealthy coping mechanisms…

The rest of the day had been great, even though it was passing by at a painfully slow rate. You had appointments that were a piece of cake, or none at all, and you spent every free second you had with Milo. You couldn’t just sit in your office and think about Billie all day, so you resorted to spending time outside playing fetch with your dog. It’s not like you didn’t think about Billie Dean out here as well, but it was less overwhelming when Milo begged for your attention every 10 seconds. You were just grateful that this side of the building was hidden from the parking lot that the reporters had set up shop in.

You didn’t have it in you to deal with them.

You knew you had it coming though after the photo and story that was released had said in no uncertain terms that you had spent the night with Billie. You didn’t regret it at all, but you just wished that you could have just one day to bask in your changing relationship before it was in the tabloids.

Unfortunately, you’d made the mistake of reading what everyone was saying about you. Now your mood had transitioned from hot and bothered to just plain bothered. You knew that you weren’t anything too special, but some of the things that you were being called—it was just mean. You sigh as Milo comes running back toward you with his tennis ball. You go to take it from him when he decides that he’d rather play by himself. He runs away a little before dropping the ball on the ground and smacking it away. You laugh at this and roll your eyes at your ridiculous dog.

Since Milo wasn’t really in the mood to play anymore, at least with you, you sit down on the bench and take out your phone. At first you just look at your messages and then emails. You and Billie had agreed that if work didn’t tire you out too much, you’d see each other tonight. This was as far as you’d gotten in planning, and you were fine with that for now. You found your way to the internet, and again are too curious for your own good. You search for yourself and start going through the surprising number of results.

Some of them you haven’t seen, but one in particular grabs your attention in the worst way possible. You stiffen before staring at the article in an attempt to figure out if your suspicions are correct.

Billie Dean Howard Helping Another Find Peace?

You only read the first few sentences before you stuff your phone back into your pocket and stand up to go inside. It’s nearing the end of the day and it’s close enough that you decide to feed Milo now. You want to take your mind off what you just saw, and luckily Milo is all for it.

“Hey, Milo! Dinner time.”

Unsurprisingly, Milo abandons his tennis ball for the promise of food.

Billie Dean is watching the news and scrolling through her phone when you call her. She had Mickey in her lap and was just getting him to fall back asleep when her phone rang. She silenced it quickly but when she realized it was you, she smiled widely.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Billie.”

Billie’s smile fades as she recognizes your tone and hears the distinct sniffle on the other end of the line. She confirms that it’s only 6:45 before deducing that you must be at home already. Or at least not at work.

“Y/N. What’s wrong?”

You sigh as you shake your head before blinking tears out of your eyes. You shouldn’t have read that damn article, but the second you got home you hadn’t been able to resist. Now you were crying again and probably ruining Billie’s plans for the night.

“I read something that—someone dug up a lot about me and now I feel horrible.”

You hate yourself for not being able to give Billie a better answer, but it was the best you could do. Honestly you felt like crying in frustration. You weren’t sure why simply reading the facts about something that you were so intimately familiar with affected you this way, but it did. It was like reliving it all again, and this on top of what Billie had told you was too much. Your usual sadness and loneliness quicky turned into guilt that became paranoia. After what Billie had told you, you felt like you were being watched and this set you on edge.

For this reason, you were actually hiding in the bathroom with Milo. He had followed you and was now sitting with his head in your lap as you wiped away your tears. Given how prudish your dad had been when it came to talking about certain things, you figured that the bathroom was somewhere he wouldn’t follow you.

“What did you read?”

You tell Billie about the article you found and you don’t realize that she’s pulled it up on her computer until she reads the title. You cringe as she says it but confirm it nevertheless, and you wait for a minute while Billie reads it.

Billie isn’t sure what to expect, but the title pretty much said it all. Her worry becomes anger as she reads the details about your dad’s death. You hadn’t told her all of this, and she wasn’t sure how the author had figured it out. She didn’t have to ask if it was true though because your reaction was telling enough. She didn’t think you’d be this upset if it wasn’t at least mostly accurate.

God this was horrible. Even after meeting your dad and talking to him a little, she hadn’t expected this.

Billie decided that sorting through all of this new information wasn’t the most important thing right now. She shut off the news that she just realized was still running before preparing to stand up.

“Where are you now?”

Thirty minutes later, there’s a knock on your door. You stand up and head downstairs, leaving the bathroom that you’d been hiding in for almost an hour. You watched as Milo darted out into the hall and down the stairs, undoubtedly heading for the door. You couldn’t summon up the same amount of enthusiasm despite wanting to see Billie again. You had been looking forward to this moment all day, but you hadn’t thought this would be your mood.

When you open the door to see Billie standing there it took all of your willpower not to cry. Once you saw how concerned she was you had to look away as you stepped back to let her in. Milo greeted her with a tail wag and a quick lick to an offered hand. You smile before closing the door behind the medium and shooting her a grateful and somehow guilty look.

“Thanks for coming by Billie. You didn’t have to.”

You immediately cringe at how that sounded, but you don’t have time to take it back before Billie’s shaking her head. She’s watching you carefully as you lock the door with a sigh. She turns slightly when she feels Milo pushing her hand with his head, and she starts to pet him before following you into the kitchen.

“I know I didn’t, but I was worried about you, Y/N.”

You just duck your head into the refrigerator to get something for the two of you to drink. You immediately reach for the alcohol with too wide of a smile.

“It’s okay, really. I’m fine, I just needed to vent. Wine?”

Billie watches as you take several things out of the fridge and place them on the counter. She sighs before taking off her jacket and placing it on the back of one of the chairs. She stood behind it for a second before deciding to move into the kitchen with you.

“It’s okay if you’re not fine, you know? You’re allowed to have bad days.”

You sigh as you stop pouring yourself a too full glass before shaking your head. You finally manage to look Billie in the eye again, but not for long. Your gaze quickly darts around the room before finding Milo sitting behind you.

“It feels like too many of them are bad.”

This was true because besides some of the days you spent with Billie and the better days you had at work, it seemed like you were always in a rotten mood. You were never good at just sitting around because your mind wandered to the most random things or you would obsess about things you didn’t want to think about.

You watch as Billie moves a little closer to you, and you don’t pull away when she reaches out for your hand. You actually sigh as you manage to look back to the blonde who is shooting you a smile that makes you feel so undeserving of her time and attention. You just kept complaining about the same things. How did she have the patience for you?

“That’s okay, dear. You are allowed as many bad days as you need.”

You release the glass that you’d practically had in a death grip to wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. You shake your head before squeezing Billie’s hand with a grateful look.

“I know, I just…You shouldn’t have to listen to me a--.”

You’re cut off by Billie’s hand releasing yours as she shakes her head. She pushes some stray hair behind your ear with a smile that makes you heart race.

“Y/N. I’m here for the good and the bad, okay?”

You abandon the wine in front of you and wordlessly walk around the counter to where Billie is. She just waits until you hold your arms out before pulling you into her embrace. You immediately feel better and can’t help but want to stay here forever. Luckily Billie doesn’t rush you, and you stay like that for at least a few minutes before you collect yourself and shake your head.

After getting both you and Billie something to drink, you sit in the living room for a while just talking a little bit about your days. You’d already caught up mostly, but you were really buying your time and trying to get comfortable with the idea of finally coming clean. You had sat down across from Billie because you wanted to make sure that you had a clear head when you made this decision. You needed to get this off your chest because it was driving you mad. You also feel like you owe Billie an explanation after keeping her hanging for so long.

Billie just watches as you come to your decision. She pets Milo absentmindedly from where he’s sitting next to her. You’d given him a look as he’d jumped up on the couch, but made no move to scold him. Now he was lying down curled up next to Billie with his head on her leg and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Your attention turns back to Billie, and once you realize how long you’d been lost in thought you blush slightly. It takes you a second before you manage a smile and sit up with a sigh. You eye Billie and then Milo with a shrug.

“Talk about what exactly?”

You aren’t playing dumb because you know that doesn’t work. You are merely asking for specifics because in your head there are a lot of different things that you and Billie could talk about. There were a lot of things that you had promised to tell her, and now was the time. You just weren’t sure where to start.

Billie just smiles as she brushes her hand over Milo’s ears making him close his eyes. She could tell that you had a lot that you wanted to get out into the open, but she didn’t want you to get overwhelmed. She just shrugged before saying the only thing she could think of that was encouraging, yet not too pushy.

“We can talk about whatever you want, Y/N.”

You smile immediately at this because there were plenty of things you’d like to talk about with Billie. Many of them more pleasant than what you had planned, but instead you just sit up in your seat before putting your glass on the table. You didn’t want it too close because then you’d be tempted to empty it.

“Well since you read the article, I guess you know everything about what happened.”

Billie watches with a frown as your head drops and you grimace at the mention of the damned article. She had wanted to call some people and try to get it taken down, but it occurred to her that she didn’t know if it was accurate or not. This would certainly affect her success, but what she was most concerned with now was you. Here and now.

Billie just nodded before she offered a verbal response since you still weren’t looking at her.

“I wasn’t sure how much of it was true, or if I could sue them.”

Despite yourself, you smile at the thought of Billie going up against the damn tabloid. You shook your head before looking up to see Billie smiling at you in a way that made you want to roll your eyes. You almost forgot about what you had to disclose before you opened your mouth to respond.

“As much as I would love to see that…Most of what they said was true.”

You took a moment to gather your courage before you sighed and started your story.

***

You’d already told Billie about what had killed your dad. How he’d had the disease for years when you were growing up, so it was easy for you to forget how serious it was. The way your dad never really seemed concerned about anything made it too easy to not notice what was happening right in front of you.

When you were almost out of high school, his condition had started to decline. His vision was getting worse and his feet hurt more and more. Again, you were so busy with school and your friends that you didn’t notice the new more comfortable shoes, or the way that he didn’t clean dishes as well. It was all just old age to you, until he told you that his numbers were bad.

This is what he’d always said, and you never really knew what numbers he was talking about until you’d bothered to ask. It was his blood pressure and sugar that were so alarmingly high that your dad started to actually take his medication.

By the time you started vet school, you still believed that he was taking his meds. He was exercising more and eating healthy, and you believed he was doing better. That he was getting better.

When you got to this part of the story you had to stop. Your voice had already broken a few times talking about your dad, but now you had to take a break. You had to take a deep breath and steel yourself for what you said next. This was something that you hadn’t told anyone, not even your sisters.

“I thought that he was getting better. He seemed to be, but then I--.”

You trail off as you close your eyes and take deep shuddering breath. You don’t realize that your eyes are tearing up until you open them at the sound of Milo jumping off the couch. You smile as you watch him come over to you and rub his head on your leg with a whine. He sits down next to you waiting to be pet or instructed, but you just shake your head before pointing to the ground next to you.

“It’s okay, Milo.”

You wait until Milo lies down next to you watching you closely as you manage a smile. You wipe your tears away before continuing, not noticing as Billie smiles at Milo’s actions.

“The article was right. I mean—I called the police after I found him upstairs, and I was crying so much I could…I could barely tell them what happened.”

You start to cry harder and you miss Billie standing up as you wipe your eyes again with a frustrated groan. This wasn’t going well at all. You sigh in defeat when you feel the cushion beneath you sink with Billie’s weight, and you turn to her immediately with a shake of your head.

“I was too shocked to realize I was technically a suspect, and I—well they wouldn’t let me walk Milo and when they told me why it still didn’t--.”

You don’t even bother trying to fight it and you’re crying freely now as you reach out for Billie’s offered hand. You squeeze it tightly before taking a few seconds to calm down. When you continue, your voice is a little steadier.

“I couldn’t believe it. Like I said, I thought he was getting better, and being blindsided like that---I blamed myself, I guess I still do.”

Billie opens her mouth to argue, but you beat her to it as you quickly continue your confession.

“I know you said-well that he said it wasn’t my fault, but I just can’t forgive myself for not seeing it.”

Billie frowns in confusion and disappointment. She wasn’t quite sure what you were talking about, but she also was certain that there was nothing you could have done. Your dad had said as much, and from your story, it was clear that your dad has been a stubborn man. He was going to do what he wanted.

“What didn’t you see?”

You are a little surprised by how heatedly you respond to Billie’s question. You yank your hand away to wipe your eyes as you stand up quicky. You shake your head before you start pacing, and Billie can only watch as you start ranting.

“Everything! Billie, I missed all of the signs! He was getting worse—he was hurting and I didn’t even notice! How could I...?”

You trail off as you feel a hand brush against yours as you pass by the couch. You turn to Billie who’s shooting you a pleading, yet cautious look. You don’t quite understand why until she looks away from you for a moment.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. It sounds like your dad hid these things from you because he didn’t want you to worry.”

You nearly scoff at this, but not because of Billie. The idea that your dad hid things from you only to have it backfire like this…that was scoff-worthy. You don’t get a chance though before Billie’s looking back to something—then turns to you with a sad smile.

“All of those secrets? Those are on him, and he knows that.”

Billie stands up and takes a step closer to you. She doesn’t do anything but hold your hand as she takes a deep breath.

“You weren’t responsible for his actions. He was your father and it was his job to take care of you. He wants to apologize for failing you.”

You start crying harder and you leave the living room, pulling Billie along with you, to the kitchen. You grab a box of Kleenex before accidentally running into the counter. You curse before dropping Billie’s hand, reaching for your side with a grimace.

“Shit! I don’t—why is he apologizing to me?”

Billie sighs as she listens for a minute before trying to figure out how to word your dad’s response. He was crying a little too at this point, but Billie wasn’t sure if she should tell you this. It would probably make you even more upset.

“He hates that he left you alone, and that he didn’t do a better job of taking care of you.”

You shake your head as you bury your face in too many tissues. You think about how alone you felt in that big house with only Milo to keep you company. You think about how long you had to stay there to get everything in order before moving out here. Most importantly, you think about how empty you felt and still feel because of your dad’s absence. Not having him in your life all of a sudden was something you still hadn’t really adjusted to.

You’d dealt with this loneliness by turning it into guilt that you realize wasn’t even justified.

As if hearing what you’re thinking, Billie says the last thing you need to hear.

“It wasn’t your fault he was so sick, Y/N.”

You practically start sobbing at this before you shake your head in denial. You walk back to the couch, sitting down and completely ignoring Milo who is pawing at you in concern. You don’t even know if Billie is near you before you start talking, well you try to talk.

“Y-es it was! I was supposed to ta-take care of him. I shouldn’t have let him-!”

Billie cuts you off because both you and your dad are getting more upset, and she’s afraid you’ve missed his point.

“You were not responsible for his health, sweetheart. He didn’t mean to make you feel like you were. He knows that’s not fair to put such a burden on you.”

You want to say that it didn’t feel like a burden. That you didn’t worry when you watched your dad eat something particularly unhealthy or complain about not seeing the mess he left on the counter. You sniffle pitifully as you shake your head out of a lack of anything better to do. You don’t know what to say at this point. You’re at a loss because even after all of this you still felt guilty.

You felt guilty about not seeing what was happening, and you felt guilty about not doing your job. Your dad had jokingly said one day that his doctor had told him to put you in charge of his diet. Since you had been the most responsible of your siblings it was your job to make sure he ate right.

You didn’t realize until right now how much pressure and stress that put on you, and if you weren’t already sitting down you would have collapsed at the realization. You felt guilty alright, but not just about what you’d mentioned.

You felt guilty because you were so angry.

You wouldn’t let yourself admit it because it made you feel awful, but you had been angry when your dad died. You had thought he was getting better, and to find out that he wasn’t, that he hadn’t tried hard enough, or he’d started too late made you so mad that you couldn’t put it into words. You were mad at him for leaving you without warning, and for making all of your efforts meaningless. None of it had made a difference.

You didn’t realize that Billie had come sit next to you until you go to lie down. You’re crying miserably into your hands at this point and there really is no stopping it now. You’ve opened the floodgates and you feel like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

You end up lying down in Billie’s lap as you cry for your dad who had always supported you, even when you were wrong. You cry because you will miss him for too many reasons to count. You never really thought about your wedding before, but the idea of him not being there to walk you down the aisle made you cry impossibly harder.

How were you going to live the rest of your life without him?

***

Billie was running her fingers through your hair as you slept peacefully. After tiring yourself out, you’d fallen asleep in Billie’s lap for probably the fifth time since you’d met her and had been practically comatose since. Milo had barked a couple of times to be let out, but Billie didn’t want to risk waking you. Instead, she told Milo to sit and hoped that he would just continue to stare at you two instead of bark, or god forbid go pee somewhere.

It was getting late and Billie was trying to figure out how to get up without waking you when you finally started to stir. You groan in exhaustion and pain, you were still pretty damn sore, before you sat up. You realized that your pillow was actually Billie and you blinked the sleep out of your eyes before shooting her an apologetic look.

“God, I just keep sleeping on you, I’m sorry.”

Billie holds back her first flirty thought and decides to say something a little more supportive. You smile as you make a half-hearted attempt to fix your hair before sighing heavily. You look around the room and the first thing you see is Milo staring at you. You know he needs to go out, but you need to check in with Billie first.

“How are you feeling?”

You expect this question, but still, you smile as you nod without thinking. “Better. Thank you. I think I just needed to vent. I--.”

You pause as you consider the truth of your next statement. You just sigh when you realize how unintelligent you can be despite the amount of evidence that proves otherwise.

“I hadn’t really given myself a chance to process all of that before.”

Billie seems a little surprised by this because it’s been more than two months. According to you it had happened a month before graduation, and she understood you being really busy, but putting something off like this wasn’t healthy. She was amazed that you had made it this long without getting to the root of what had you so upset.

“Not at all?”

Billie realizes that this probably wasn’t the right thing to ask you when you just frown in response. You look away guiltily before shaking your head. You realize how unhealthy this behavior is and you feel a little bit like a chastised dog when you manage to look back to Billie to try and explain yourself.

You don’t get the chance though before Billie’s speaking up, and you just sigh in response to what she says.

“That’s not good for you, Y/N.”

You nod in agreement before sitting up straighter and trying to crack your back. You groan under your breath at the lack of success you have before you swallow your pride.

“I know, you’re right. I just wasn’t ready yet, you know?”

Billie frowns but doesn’t argue with you. She can’t really imagine how difficult it must have been for you to suddenly end up alone. To have no one and still need to finish school on top of dealing with all of your dad’s affairs.

Billie doesn’t realize how long she’s spaced out for until she hears Milo whine. She looks back to you as the dog paws at your leg with another whine. He must want to go out.

“He needs to go out. Do you want to come with me, unless you need to leave of course?”

You hurry to add the last part because you had almost forgotten how late it was. You weren’t sure of how long you slept for, but Billie hadn’t arrived until after 7. You stand up to busy yourself in case Billie says no, but Milo of course runs off to get his leash leaving you and Billie alone. You remember that you just woke up and that you don’t look nearly as good as Billie, not that you ever do, but it’s too late for you to care. You’re tired and have a lot floating around your mind right now, and how your hair looks like a bird’s nest is the least of your worries.

Billie just smiles before she nods in agreement. She wasn’t quite ready to leave yet despite the late hour. She wanted to spend more time with you and make sure you were alright to be on your own. You’d talked about a lot of upsetting things, and Billie didn’t want to leave you dwelling on those.

“Of course, let’s go.”

You, Billie, and Milo arrive downstairs without incident. It’s pretty deserted given the late hour, and you are too tired to really care about being seen. You stifle a yawn as you follow Milo out the front door, but you nearly trip as he quickly tugs you towards a tree. You groan when you hear Billie chuckling from behind you, but you don’t respond as you take a deep breath. You relax slightly as you let the cool air wash over you before turning to Billie with a smile.

“Are you ready?”

Part 12

#american horror story #ahs #ahs fic #my fic #ahs murder house #ahs imagine #billie dean howard x reader #billie dean howard imagine #billie dean howard #a little bit

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nooneandeveryone · 3 years ago

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I've had a very weird emotional rollercoaster of a day. I'm not entirely sure what's going on other than my usual post productive mood dip. I did actually do things yesterday so part of my brain wants to spend today telling me I'm worthless.

I don't like this cycle. I understand where it came from it's just so difficult to unlearn.

But I don't think that's the main problem today.

talk of pets and pet death below, a little ptsd-ish

My other concern is M. He's sick and he back slid a bit. He dropped half a pound. Needless to say, I'm having flashbacks to when Milo was dying. The cancer made him lose a lot of weight really quickly. M is named M for Milo because he looks like him. Unfortunately, I think this is just triggering all those old feelings. I lost Milo at the lowest point in my life. Absolute lowest.

I have ancient journal entries on a long abandoned blog about it. I won't dig them up. It was bad. It was a time I felt utterly abandoned and betrayed by everyone important to me. I had my own mental illnesses uses against me, I had my own insecurities used against me. I escaped that situation, took my cats and moved into a little shack of a place.

See, Milo, was my cat since I was 7. I got him from my half-sister. That orange and white asshole saw me through a lot of crap. Everything would suck but I had him. He'd saunter on up, head butt then flop down forcefully. And purr.

There was a period, where I had a lot of trouble with sleeping. My anxiety would run too high. Bordering on panic attacks. But Milo, would come lay on my head and purr in my ear... and I'd finally calm down and sleep.

So, toward the end with Milo, I developed a habit of resting my hand on his side as he slept next to me. It was so I could reassure myself he was still breathing, and then I would be able to sleep.

I didn't sleep much after he passed.

I was alone aside from my other two elderly cats. I don't think I ever felt more alone. Even with Creepers and Lala, who were amazing cats. They knew too and curled up with me on the bed.

A couple weeks later I got Nemo, who I cried on a little today. Not long after I lost Lala, then Creepers the next year.

It took, so, so, so, long to dig out of that hole.

So, here I have M... while he does not have cancer, the disease he has can lead to death. The core issue is the same, trying to keep the weight on him. I've been worried about him for a long time. He's difficult to pill, he's difficult to convince to eat.

This morning was cleaning up after him. While the cleaning was fairly simple... because he did it on paper. It just started the flow of memories. Well, feelings first, memories second.

I felt so inexplicably alone. I say that because... I'm very much not alone. Like physically and emotionally.

I didn't have a good day. I figured out in the end... but now... I don't know. Big emotional triggers like this tend to make me shut down. While reaching out was difficult it becomes impossible. At least, until I can completely dissect what I'm feeling and why. I guess I don't want to fuck things up? Like, I have made bad decisions and alienated people when I've had emotional states like this. Of course, like anyone with any sort of emotional instability, I'd get accused of being dramatic or attention seeking. I like attention like an affection starved stray, but I do not want to feel like this to get it.

I don't like this complicated web. I just want to be happy and content and not be forced to relive the worst moments in my life.

#much more broken than i appear

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stones-x-bones · 3 years ago

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To Build A Home || Bex, Metzli and Milo

TIMING: The day after Metzli returns from this PARTIES: @deathisanartmetzli, @wickedmilo, @inbextween SUMMARY: Milo and Bex meet up at Metzli’s, worried about the state of their friend. CONTENT: Medical blood, Emotional abuse mentions, Domestic abuse mentions (All paragraphs labeled accordingly for triggers)

Metzli’s reflection stared back with vacant eyes. The same eyes that watched Anselmo’s life leave him. The same eyes that watched trees blur by in silence as Macleod and them waltzed through the forest. Making a new dance. A steady and careful one that moved them through the tree line and back into White Crest. The earthquake their body created brought in a devastating tsunami that they could not halt. And as the tap ran in their sink for a little too long, tears fell to join the waterfall.

Dejection. That was the best word for their state. Even after washing all the blood and dirt from their skin, their body was still painted with gashes, scrapes, and bruises. The chunk of neck bitten off being the focal point. It hadn’t closed nearly enough to not cause alarm. The hoodie Metzli wore barely covered it up and they didn’t have the proper medical dressings to patch it up. But that was okay for now.

With the water shut off, Metzli moved back into the living room to sit on the couch. They had barely moved since they got back. Yuca didn’t leave their side, taking to following them everywhere. Small graces that they adored. “Ay mi vida, estoy bien.” They cooed and scritched her chin. Mind wandered to the events that transpired and they flinched. It was painful to look back, but Metzli supposed that was okay. They had lost so much, but gained as well.

For instance, Metzli bit back at their clan for the first time ever. Made their first attempt at defense to show Eloy they were more than the definitions he thrust upon them. The painful history was embraced and within it they found the strength to rewrite the legacy. At least, that was the hope. A hope that came in waves and left Metzli to settle in their anguish when it receded with the tide.

Milo was undeniably anxious, but he knew he needed to visit Metzli. Even if Bex would be there with them, even if it felt awkward, unfamiliar, and uncomfortable. He wanted to believe Bex wasn’t scared of him, he wanted to believe things could return to how they had been. He supposed the only way to repair their friendship was to move forward, to focus on the present. And in the present, Metzli needed them. Metzli needed them both. So, swallowing, he hitched his backpack a little higher, hearing the three bloodbags inside it slosh in a way most people would probably find disturbing. He had been sure to drink one before leaving the house, not wanting to feel any kind of thirst or temptation when his friend inevitably tore into them. Metzli had only told him to bring one, but in his experience it was far better to have too many than too few, especially when recovering from an injury. Climbing the stairs, taking them carefully in a bid to prolong his arrival, he caught a scent he recognised, a scent that confirmed he wasn’t as early as he might have hoped. Maybe it wouldn’t matter who arrived first, but he had convinced himself he would feel less self conscious if he was already in the apartment when Bex arrived. Of course, nothing was ever that simple, so he grit his teeth, forcing down what was left of his anxiety before making his way towards the end of the hall.

Bex was standing outside Metzli’s apartment, hand raised ready to knock, and he felt a jolt of guilt upon seeing her. Resisting the urge to turn and retreat, he reminded himself that he was going to have to talk to her eventually. It wasn’t fair to avoid her, not after everything he had put her through. Taking heavy steps so that she would be made aware of his presence, he caught her eye as she turned to face him, offering her a hesitant smile. Metzli’s words echoed in his mind, predator, and prey. He repressed a shudder, refusing to acknowledge them. Jeez, it shouldn’t be this difficult. His skin was crawling as he remembered the last time they had seen each other. He hated it, he hated this. He hated what he had become. “Hey…” He whispered, not wanting to draw attention to their arrival just yet. “Does… does Metzli know you’re here?”

Bex didn’t know if vampires had first-aid kits. When Milo had shown up to their house needing stitches, Bex had wondered if it was because he didn’t have the right tools at his own. She didn’t really know how well vampires healed from wounds. She knew how fast Mina healed, she knew Morgainterrupting n healed instantly, she knew Deirdre healed quickly, she knew she herself healed extremely slow-- she still had the cuts from Milo’s teeth nearly piercing her skin before she’d thrown him off on her neck, after all-- but she didn’t know how fast vampires really healed. Milo had said his wounds had taken a few days to heal, but how bad were Metzi’s? If they’d almost died, they had to be worse, and Bex hated that thought. She didn’t know what she needed, if she needed anything, but she still stuffed the entire first-aid kit into her purse, sutures and gauze and hydrogen peroxide and all, before racing off to Metzli’s apartment.

She hadn’t even considered how she’d feel seeing Milo again. She figured it would all just be fine, she wasn’t mad at him or anything, and she knew he hadn’t meant it, but when he called out to her and she turned to see him, her body felt frozen, and she felt her magic rushing defensively to the surface, as if expecting him to lunge again. “I-- no, they-- no,” she stumbled over her words a bit, swallowing back the fear and the guilt and lowering her hand. “I haven’t knocked yet. I ran all the way here and winded myself,” she found herself admitting, for no reason, really. She always rambled when she was anxious, or when she was worried, or when she was panicked. Especially when she was all three. “We should go inside, though. We should really just--” but she still didn’t move, blinking as she looked at Milo.

Milo wasn’t sure whether to move closer, or stay where he was. The last thing he wanted to do was make Bex uncomfortable. Hovering awkwardly, he couldn’t help the familiar rush of affection he felt when she told him she had run to the apartment. It hadn’t been necessary. They both knew Metzli wasn’t going anywhere, but Bex wouldn’t rest until she was by their side. She needed to be there for them as quickly as she was physically able. Sometimes he found himself wishing she would put herself first, even once. But it wasn’t in her nature, and as somebody who frequently put himself first, he found it to be an incredibly admirable trait. “Yeah, we- we probably should.” He eyed the door, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before speaking again, stopping her from announcing their arrival. He needed to say something, he wouldn’t feel right until he apologised. “Bex-” He took a hesitant step closer, breaking off as he struggled to find the right words. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it but I- I’m really sorry.” Apologies were difficult, he spent most of his life deflecting responsibility so that he wouldn’t have to accept it. But this was different, he owed her this much.

Glancing down at her neck, tearing his gaze away before it could linger on the scarf hiding the evidence of his attack, he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “I didn’t know I could lose it like that, not when I wasn’t hungry. I still have so much to learn but it… it shouldn’t come at the expense of my friends.” He caught her eye, his vision suddenly blurred by tears. He hurried to blink them away. “I should have told you- the moment I realised you were bleeding, I should have told you how I was feeling. It wasn’t fair… I was just so scared, and confused, and when the danger was gone this relief came crashing down and it overwhelmed me.” He took another step forward, listening to her heartbeat to ensure he wasn’t making her nervous. “Can you forgive me?” His voice sounded small, even to his own ears, and he realised he felt small. If she said no, he would be crushed. This level of vulnerability was alien, and unfamiliar to him. “I don’t want you to forgive me because you want me to be okay. I want you to be honest, Bex… I only want you to be okay.”

Bex turned to knock again but Milo said her name and she paused mid motion, again, glancing over at him. He wanted to talk about what happened and that made sense, but Bex didn’t really want to talk about it. This didn’t feel like the right time to talk about it. But she couldn’t just go inside and ignore him. She turned to look at him as he spoke, stumbling this way through an apology. And it wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it, but she was curious. Hadn’t she already told him it was okay? That she didn’t blame him? Well, he hadn’t stayed online long enough for her to say much. She’d asked if he was okay and wanted to make sure that he was okay, and he hadn’t said much back. She looked at her feet, and then at him. “I-- I never said I didn’t want to talk about it,” she corrected quietly, shuffling her feet. “And I know. That you’re sorry. I know all that. I--” she stopped mid sentence, perplexed. “What do you mean can I forgive you? I already did? Milo, that...everything that happened that night was my fault. I don’t blame you for what happened. We were-- things were bad and dire and sometimes we just lose control. I...I know that feeling.” And she did, god did she know. Maybe it wasn’t a bloodlust or a murderous rage, but it was rage-- rage that could hurt and could make you bleed and could kill.

“I forgive you,” she stated, “I promise.”

The ringing in Metzli’s ears began to subside and they could hear Milo and Bex clear as day outside of the door. Yuca was rubbing up against it, the first time she’d strayed away from their side. Legs moved involuntarily towards her, towards the voices of friends that were coming over to help. Statements of apologies and blood and control and forgiveness…

Voices cut in and out, growing muffled and clear over and over again. It was a state of mind they hadn’t experienced before. A culmination of what had happened. A product of violence, pain, and distress. Metzli’s friends needed time, so they gave it to them. Waiting by the door, playing with the pendent Macleod had given them. Pressure built and it waned, only to build up once again. As a promise was spoken and as it tethered to Milo, the door opened suddenly. Eyes darted back and forth from the clasp around the door to Milo and Bex standing outside of the doorframe.

“Uh…I—super hearing.” Their voice was a mutter, barely audible. Metzli couldn’t move, realizing that they had just revealed not only what they heard, but their current state.

Milo faltered. Bex was right, she hadn’t said that. He realised, not for the first time, that he was projecting onto her. He was the one finding it impossible to navigate their situation. And he was trying to blame her for the emotional turmoil. He stayed silent, mulling over his realisation, along with his friend’s reassurances. He didn’t feel as though he had earned them, but he needed them far too much to try and deny himself. Feeling his shoulders drop as tension he didn’t know he was carrying left his body, he smiled again. This smile was far more sincere, a genuine smile, conveying his love, and his gratitude. “Not everything,” he pointed out. If he had only been better at communicating, she could have helped him, or made her escape before he lost control of himself. Instead, he had allowed himself to become distracted, too embarrassed, and ashamed of his craving to admit that he might be a danger. “I’ll be better.” He added. “I will.” Reaching up to brush the tears out of his eyes, doing his best to compose himself, Bex had been one of the first people to explain the true depth of a promise, and it wasn’t lost on him how important it was that she was making one now. She was okay. She wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t the truth, and he finally, finally allowed himself to relax. It felt as though a weight had been lifted from his chest, but before he could fully process the sensation, the door beside Bex opened to reveal Metzli; battered, and bruised, but otherwise whole.

[MED BLOOW TW]

Staring at them in shock, hoping his concern wasn’t obvious in his expression, he did his best to assess their injuries without drawing attention to them. Jeez, they were so much worse than he ever could have imagined. Maybe he should be fussing over them, running his hands through their hair to check for any further damage, observing their pupils for signs of concussion, or their temperature in case they had developed an infection. But Metzli was a vampire, and despite being one himself, he still wasn’t adept when it came to undead first aid. So he decided to do what he was good at, and he played off the situation as casual. “You look like shit.” The words escaped him before he could question whether they were appropriate, and he reached into his backpack, pulling out a bloodbag to thrust it upon Metzli. They needed to drink, that much he was sure of. Ignoring the smell of death that seemed to surround them, the congealed, and disconcerting scent of blood no longer circulating its body, he brushed past them into their apartment, gesturing towards the now empty couch. “Sit, Metzli. I mean it, you need to rest.”

[MED BLOOD TW END]

Bex, unlike MIlo, let all the worry and concern and fear show on her face. She was bad at hiding it now. She’d spent twenty-one years learning how to hide how she felt only to have it undone by just a few people in a matter of months. “Metzli,” Bex exhaled and as Milo pushed past, she just surged forward and wrapped her arms around them and felt the physical weight of their body in her arms and knew that it was real. They were okay. They were alive. She couldn’t even remember how many times she’d worried Mina wouldn’t come home, how many times she’d looked at her text messages and wondered if it was just someone else texting her and it wasn’t real. Things never felt real. But this was real. Metzli was real. She blinked back tears as she unfurled, reluctantly, and looked up at their face. It was torn and cut and bruised and there was just a gaping wound in their neck and Bex had to swallow because the last time she’d seen someone this torn up was when she’d found Mina half-dead in a forest clearing, bleeding out caught in a bear trap.

“Sorry, I-- I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She scraped the back of her hand across her eyes, wiping the tears away and gently tugging them inside, shutting the door. “Milo’s right, you should sit. I-- I brought supplies. First aid supplies. I can-- treat some of that. Or try to. I’m not a doctor but I know a little bit. I know how to do stitches, I learned after-- I learned recently.” Maybe, if she kept talking, she wouldn’t think about the people she cared about dying. Maybe her thoughts wouldn’t stop long enough for her to see them dead and bleeding and screaming. Maybe, if she kept talking, the images Roy had made her see wouldn’t come back.

[MED BLOOD TW]

Everything happened at once. The blood bag in their hand and the feeling of being squeezed forced Metzli to tense their whole body. But they were relieved, so happy to see both of them. And despite the lingering feeling of hope and happiness, their body trembled. From what exactly, they didn’t know. It was overwhelming, though and they were unprepared for how the effects would make their body react. Tightened eyes caused stars to shine brightly, even tighter body caused the two to stumble and push out a small groan. “Not any more hurt than I was before.” A smile teetered off of their face and pupils contracted as vampiric instincts infected their body. “B-Bex, back up—” They managed to say just before swiveling their body away from her to pierce the bag and wolf down the contents. The blood was the antidote and the effects of it were jarring. Having grown used to the dryness of their throat, Metzli hadn’t anticipated the bulldozing relief of consuming sustenance. Legs gave out and knees buckled, followed by a bony thud when they made impact with the floor.

[MED BLOOD TW END]

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Overwhelmed.” Metzli quickly said with an uncharacteristically empty voice. “Thanks, Milo.” The two locked eyes for a blink and the vacancy in theirs was prominent. Fear and pain made Metzli ill and deteriorated the person they once were. They were practically unrecognizable. Not from appearance, but from energy, or lack thereof.

A leg pulled forward, a hand leveraged itself on a knee, and they were upright once more. Bruises and cuts, even the bite, they were all visibly healing. Metzli felt better too. Not by much, but it was enough. More than enough. At least, physically. Emotionally and mentally, they felt far from better. But when it came to issues of the heart, the vampire tried to pretend they were unaffected. Even if it was useless. “I don’t know if I need medical attention. Most things aren’t as deep as they were. Don’t know if, um…” Words failed them, too nervous about fully revealing their most severe wound. A trembled hand pulled their hoodie down a little, and Metzli avoided both pairs of eyes. “Don’t know if you can stitch this. It’s uh, wide.”

Milo watched Bex embrace Metzli as he dropped his bag by the kitchen unit. There was something so wholesome about it, he could feel just how much his friends cared for each other. And he knew that if he was the one injured, they would be there for him in the same way. A strange realisation. He had spent so long only really having Dani, and a handful of people who enabled his habits, but who didn’t feel as though they could really be considered friends. Now he was surrounded by love in a way he never had been. In a way that made his still heart ache inside his chest. Maybe this was what it felt like to truly belong. Catching Bex’s eye at the mention of stitches, he offered her a gentle smile, remembering how she and Mina had taken care of him when he was drunk with nobody else to turn to. Averting his gaze as Metzli withdrew, turning their back to drink the blood he had given them, he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining the awkward tension. If Bex’s words in the hall were anything to go by then it was entirely in his head. But he didn’t look back up until Metzli had finished drinking.

The moment they were done with the empty plastic, he moved forward to take it back, but before he had the chance Metzli had fallen to their knees. Feeling a jolt of fear, he hurried to reach them, trying to understand why they had suddenly collapsed. The expression on their face was so unfamiliar, and when they spoke he realised they no longer sounded like Metzli. It was clear they were suffering mentally as well as physically, but right now their physical wellbeing was the only thing he could actively help with. “There’s more where that came from.” He told them, crouching beside them so they were on the same level. “I brought three bags, and I can always get more…” Trailing off, up close the bruises and cuts looked so much worse. He couldn’t help but stare at their throat, at the skin and tissue that was healing, but nowhere near fast enough to stop the injury from looking absolutely horrific. “Even if it doesn’t help, we’re treating you.” He said, leaving no room for argument as he forced himself to focus. He shot Bex a look, knowing they both felt the same way. It might not make a difference but they longed to be proactive, they wouldn’t be able to rest until they knew they had done everything within their power to heal their friend. “Come on, sit down…” When he was sure Metzli was steady on their feet, he stood upright, gestured towards the couch again, making sure they followed his instruction. Wincing, unable to help himself, as they pulled down the collar of their hoodie, he pushed his glasses further up his nose. “We’ll do what we can, okay?”

Bex tried to do as Metzli said and back away, but before she knew it, they were collapsing to their knees, and even Milo was rushing to their side to see if he could help. She fought the urge to grab them in her arms again and sidled over, uneasy, wondering if she should help or if she was supposed to still stay back. The blood bag was emptied, though, so she took that as a sign that she’d be able to approach. “Milo’s right, let’s just...get you to the couch and go from there,” she said, nodding, trying not to look at or think about the cuts and bruises on Metzli’s face. And that was just what she could see. She held out a hand, even as Metzli showed them the extent to the injury on their neck and Bex tried not to think about how it matched the gash in Mina’s side that Frank had left behind. She hurried Metzli over to the couch as much as she could, before dropping her purse and pulling out the first-aid kit she’d brought. “Okay, maybe no stitches, but I can at least wrap it, right? Cover it up a little, make sure it heals right. I mean, me and Mina helped Milo a few weeks ago, so this isn’t, like any different.”

She didn’t know if that was true, she didn’t think it was true. But she had to believe that, if she could heal the wounds, then maybe the ones inside might get better, too. Her hands shook as she unraveled a roll of gauze and held it up. “Just let us help, okay? That’s why we’re here. And-- and this way you won’t have to worry about hurting it more or getting things in the wound.”

With a nod, Metzli took Bex’s hand and listened to both of their friends. The weight they were feeling before, having to carry everything on their own, began to subside. It wasn’t just them carrying it anymore. This was a boxing match that they were tapping out of, for now, so their friends could take over. “Thanks,” They muttered, looking distantly at the black television in front of the couch. “Help. Right. I, uh. Right.” They removed the hoodie slowly, groaning in discomfort from the aches and pains. A slew of bruises and cuts covered their skin and two stab wounds lay at their lower abdomen. “Forgot about those.” A shaky finger pointed and they chuckled dryly. Being taken care of wasn’t a norm and it brought a sense of anxiety with it. Is this okay? Is this right? They’re in danger because of you. And despite the thoughts that circled in their mind, that paced a trail of misery, they leaned back onto the couch.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Which was a lie, it was even worse than it looked. Taking on several vampires, especially one that was over two hundred year old was extremely dangerous. The results of it were devastating and created wounds deeper than what any stab wound could make. “I’m really sorry you guys are caught up in this now. It’s my fault. And if I need to leave, I will. I swear.” Metzli began to ramble, to panic now that the mass was shared and no longer held the dam of anxiety and fear back. “I’m just sorry.” Was all that could be said as they looked away to avoid their friends from seeing their tears.

Feeling an odd sense of pride upon hearing he was right, Milo pushed it aside so that he could focus on helping Bex. He didn’t get many things right in his life, but maybe he had found something he was genuinely good at. Maybe he was good at helping his friends. At the mention of his stitches, he pointedly rolled up his sleeve, showing Metzli the faint marks left by the first aid that his friends had applied. It hadn’t been too long ago, but months may as well have passed him by. “Barely even a scar, I think it’ll be gone in a week or two.” He added, as though Metzli needed any more convincing. They didn’t look like they had the energy to protest, which was probably going to work in their favour. When they were comfortably settled on the couch, he pulled a second blood bag out of his backpack, handing it to them with a look that told them they had no choice but to drink it. “She’s pretty good, you know… Doctor Bex. Even as a vampire, I doubt it’s healthy to leave it all exposed like that…” Catching Bex’s eye, a warmth spreading outwards from his chest when she said we’re, he smiled at her, pulling his sleeve back down again. They were in this together now, with a common goal. With somebody they needed to protect. “And we’re not going anywhere either.” He moved to take a seat beside Metzli, knowing he didn’t have much to offer beyond moral support, and some blood. Bex had the tools to really help, and he trusted her medical abilities.

Understanding Metzli taking Bex’s hand was a sign of submission, a sign of surrendering themself to her care, he grinned, and it came far more easily than he might have expected. The situation was serious, and terrifying, but they had each other. And at least he and Bex weren’t going to have to fight against any stubborn insistence, or false bravado. “You don’t have to thank us, moron.” He carefully tugged at the hem of Metzli’s hoodie, helping to get it over their head without the material brushing against the worst of their injuries. Folding it neatly in his lap, it took all of three seconds for Yuca to jump onto it, obviously comforted by the scent of her owner. “Jeez, Metzli…” He muttered, looking away as they gestured towards their stomach. It seemed they had managed to get hurt in every area physically possible. How they were still walking and talking remained a mystery. “Bullshit.” He countered. “It’s every bit as bad as it looks. Why else do you think we came?” Scratching Yuca behind the ears, he pointedly held their gaze, daring them to try and contradict him. “And you’re not going anywhere either. No fucking way. What would you say if this was one of us?” He asked. It was undeniably a rhetorical question. One that they all knew the answer to. Making an effort to soften his tone as he noticed the sudden peak in Metzli’s anxiety, he leaned forward so that they would be forced to look at him. “Hey… Hey, look at me, Metzli. You don’t have to worry about anything else right now, just look at me and- I don’t know, tell me something interesting? What’s your favourite colour?” Glancing at Bex, he silently conveyed his plan to distract Metzli while she set to work on treating them. “Or favourite song? If you say anything with an apology in the title I will destroy your hoodie, don’t think I won’t.”

It was strange. Last time Bex had been trying to patch up someone this beat up, she’d had too few medical supplies, wondering if they’d make it through to the morning, or if they might both just die in the night. This time, she had too much supplies, as she sorted through the first-aid kit and looked for something labeled antiseptic or antibiotic. There was a little spray bottle with hydrogen peroxide in it and she picked it up, listening to Milo talk to Metzli. He seemed at ease, in his element, right now. Bex, however, could only let dark thoughts consume her, as she sprayed a cotton pad with the peroxide and tried not to show the horror on her face when the rest of their injuries came into view. She bit the inside of her cheek, glancing away and occupying herself with finishing up prepping the bandages. “Just...hold still,” she said after a moment, holding up the pad and pressing it to the patch on their neck, before she took the gauze and began wrapping it around. “That’s um, not too tight, is it?” She moved in closer to make sure she wasn’t messing it up, before taking the small scissors and cutting it off. Taped it down gently and sat back, looking to the gashes on their stomach.

[MED BLOOD TW/DOMESTIC ABUSE TW]

All she could see was the oozing, black wound Frank had left on Mina’s side and Bex fought to not just leap up and run away. She reached out with shaky fingers to touch gently next to the wound on their abdomen. “I should probably clean this, first,” she explained, trying not to let the anxiety and warble of Metzli’s voice get to her just yet. She couldn’t cry just yet. She looked over at Milo, then to Metzli. “It’s true. There’s no need to apologize. We-- we’re here because we want to be. Because you’re important to us.” She breathed in, held it. She hated seeing the people she cared about like this, while being too weak to do anything. Mina, Milo, Metzli...they could do these things, while Bex’s fragile heart barely let her get up the stairs nowadays. “No one’s going anywhere.”

[MED BLOOD TW/DOMESTIC ABUSE TW END]

With a deep swallow, Metzli managed to look back at Milo and listen fully. He sounded kind and worried. He sounded like he truly cared. Bex too. But her care came in the form of actions as she got them patched up. She moved with the gentlest of touch and caution, making them feel safe. “Mauve. Or forest green. Both nice colors.” They began, piercing the second blood bag that Milo had given them and sipping on it as they pondered on the second question. Most of their favorite songs were likely ones neither of them had heard of. Being that they were both classical and Mexican in origin. So they picked something they may recognize. “Oddly enough, I like that Linkin Park group. Uh, One More Light. Or that Swift chick. That new album was actually written okay-ish.” The corner of Metzli’s mouth curved into a small smirk, before frowning from the small wince they reacted from the gauze with. “No, not too tight. It just hurts in general.”

The tremor in Bex’s voice began to set in a worry that couldn’t be fought off. Wolfing down the last remnants of the blood bag, Metzli lifted a hand to Bex’s face and had her pause for a moment while they cupped her cheek. “You can take a second. I know it’s a lot. Just breathe a little. I’m okay. I’m alive.” Slowly, that same hand backed away and patted Milo’s shoulder. They smiled wryly, but it was soft and grateful. “You too. Thank you. Both of you.”

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

Never having a real family, Metzli always had to step out on their own, taking lonely steps into the storm. Weathering it alone was hard, and sometimes it seemed impossible. But right now, the future, making it there, seemed very possible. They were no longer left to get bloodied and dirtied alone, and maybe they couldn’t fully accept it yet, but they were going to try. Because it felt good. Because it felt right. It felt right to use the veins of their heart like a thread to connect themselves, their own heart to others who were willing to go into war with them. Others like Milo and Bex. And in the end, they wouldn’t have to count their pride as one of the casualties. Relying on people didn’t have to mean sacrificing pride. It just meant that you were expanding on it. Being proud of who you had.

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW END]

“Do I at least still look good?”

Staying quiet so that he wouldn’t disrupt Bex, Milo listened to Metzli’s answers, deciding that forest green suited them as a person. “Mauve is nice…” He agreed, his voice gentle as he did his best to distract them from any pain they might be feeling. “I like yellow… I think it’s a happy colour.” Anybody who knew him would be able to see yellow was his favourite. From his knitted sweaters, to his converse, he wore yellow far more often than not. The smell of blood hit him with force as Metzli began to drink the second bag, he was far closer than he had been for the first one. But he didn’t allow himself to dwell, almost proud of the fact that he was able to force down any thirst he felt. “You like Linkin Park?” He echoed in disbelief, doing nothing to stop a laugh from escaping him. “Do people even listen to them anymore?” Raising his eyebrows at the following names, if he had been surprised by Linkin Park, he was downright shocked to hear his friend list Taylor Swift as an artist they enjoyed. “Wow, I knew you had bad taste,” he teased, “but not that bad. This might be the end of our friendship.” His smile growing when he noticed Metzli’s lips twitch, it was all the validation he needed to continue in his strategy. But he was pulled out of his own thoughts by Metzli reaching out to caress Bex, their fingers soft, and comforting against her cheek. He suddenly felt guilty, remembering this wasn’t just about Metzli. He was used to the aftermath of injuries, not only because he was a vampire, but because of the people he used to surround himself with as a human.

He had been known to panic under the stress of chaos, but things weren’t chaotic right now. He was more than adept when it came to focusing on the task at hand, but maybe Bex wasn’t. Maybe this was a lot for her. Realistically, it should be a lot for anyone. “Alive, with terrible taste in music, apparently.” He added, hoping to draw a smile from both of his friends. It made sense to try and comfort them while he was the most emotionally stable, even if he wasn’t used to that particular brand of responsibility. Leaning into Metzli’s touch, he shook his head to brush off their thanks. “No thank yous, and no apologies, okay?” He ordered, knowing they were never going to follow his instruction. He could hold a stake to their heart and they would insist upon taking the blame. “The assumption being that you ever looked good?” He asked, feigning innocence despite laughing at his own joke, despite the deep, and painful injuries littering Metzli’s skin, despite being unable to avoid acknowledging just how close they had come to death… true death. He wanted to cling to the fact that they had survived their attack. They were still here, and for a brief moment in time, nothing else needed to matter.

Bex listened as she worked and tried to use their conversation as a distraction as much as Metzli was. Milo was doing a good job, keeping them at ease, even if they all knew this mess had been created by something far more terrible than it was being made out to be. She swallowed and tried to calm the shaking in her hand, reaching over with her free hand to stabilize it when she felt a cold hand against her cheek. She looked up to meet Metzli’s eyes, still for a moment, as she tried not to just surge forward and hug them again. But they were right, she had to remind herself they were right. They were alive and they were okay, and they could take their time, now, to regather and come up with a better plan so that this didn’t happen again. So that there wouldn’t be a repeat of what happened. So that Bex wouldn’t have to live through another Frank trying to kill someone she cared about.

She nodded and set her hands in her lap. She felt embarrassed, almost, that she couldn’t keep it together long enough to patch up her friend. Even Milo was taking this better than her. She knew Milo and Metzli were close, but she wondered if it was a different kind of close than her and Metzli. There was something between them but Bex couldn’t figure out what it was, exactly. “Taylor Swift is a great artist,” she said, mostly at Milo, before she gathered enough of herself to look back at Metzli and hold up the pad to begin cleaning their wounds. “And you look very handsome. Chicks dig scars anyway, right?”

Metzli scowled playfully at Milo, and blew a single raspberry at him. “Excuse me? I have great taste in music. Those are just the artists you’d know, for your information. Most of my music consists of classical and kumbia. At least you have decent taste in colors.” Stomach rumbled with their laughter and wincing only made them laugh more. Somehow laughing while in pain made it that much funnier. Being safe in the presence of friends made it feel safe to laugh. Whatever wounds they had would heal and fade, but the connection and care they had for one another wouldn’t. It was set in deeper than anyone could reach.

Being confident in their looks, a hand shot up to flip Milo off accordingly. “You’re just coming after me, huh? At least Bex has taste. She can’t take her eyes off of me, see? And it totally does not have to do with my wounds. Just my wonderful physique.” Metzli couldn’t help the smile that they poorly held back, letting it turn into a fit of laughter as they adjusted themselves to be closer to Bex and settle down. When the spray hit their wound, it surprisingly stung, making their hand jerk and squeeze Bex’s knee. If there was anyone they trusted to be remotely affectionate with, it was her. Meanwhile, Milo was someone they trusted to speak openly with and find the balance between humor and venting.

“By chicks, do you mean you, B—” They flinched again, and this time their other hand shot out to Milo, grabbing his hand. “Sorry. It stings a little.” Despite wanting to retract their hand, feeling like they may have invaded his space, they didn’t. The affection felt normal and like it was something they were missing out on. Letting themselves relax, they let their hands rest with each friend, finding comfort in it.

Grinning at Bex as she countered both of his statements, Milo’s eyes were shining in a way that made it clear just how much he enjoyed teasing her. It made things feel normal, somehow. And far less dire than they probably were. “Hm, this is something I have been told.” He added, trying to keep a straight face as though they were discussing an incredibly serious topic. “Why do you think I keep my scars to a minimum? I don’t want to spend my time fending them off, you know?” Biting down on his bottom lip to repress a smile, he gave up on any pretense when Metzli stuck their tongue out. It felt good to see them behaving so much like themself after their empty expression from earlier. It felt as though the presence of friends might be grounding them, might be slowly pulling them back to the surface. “So what you’re telling me is you have bad taste, and you’re pretentious?” He countered, catching Metzli’s gaze now that he was sure Bex had settled again. “Good to know.” Embarrassed to feel tears sting at his eyes when the unexpected sound of Metzli’s laughter hit him, he blinked them away, brushing at his cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie. Bex and Metzli were both struggling, he needed to be the strong one, even if he didn’t really know how. “Yeah, I’m coming after you, because you nearly got yourself killed, and I don’t want to live in a world without Metzli Bernal, okay? This is me officially calling you out.” Glancing back at Bex, he couldn’t help but laugh. After so much worry, and concern, he needed this. He really fucking needed this.

Shifting on the couch so that Metzli had more room to adjust their position, the spray had obviously hurt them, but there wasn’t very much he could do to offer them comfort. He didn’t want to invade their personal space, but he was saved from the moral conflict when Metzli reached out first, taking his hand and holding it as though it was going to tether them, help them to navigate their obvious pain. He stared down at their hands, fingers linked as though it was natural, as though they had done this a million times before, and he realised with a jolt that it felt natural. He held them with a grip he hoped was gentle, and firm. He wanted them to know they were safe, at least for now. He wanted them to know that he was with them. “Squeeze my hand if it hurts, Metzli.” He prompted, noticing the way they were gripping at Bex’s knee. “My bones are a lot harder to break.”

[MED BLOOD TW]

In the moment, Bex really appreciated the mutual understanding that Milo and her seemed to have. He knew what she needed from him, what Metzli needed from him, and he seemed to be trying his damndest to do it for them, despite the sparkle of tears that she saw glimmering in his eye. She tried to pass him a short smile before she grabbed the suture needle and held it up, frowning at Metzli’s teasing. Her cheeks turned red involuntarily and she looked away, hiding it as much as she could, before leaning forward and squeezing together one of Metzli’s wounds and jabbing the needle in, a little less gentle than she normally would have. “Oops,” she said, grinning innocently up at Metzli,” my bad.” As she continued, she gave it a much more gentle hand, making sure to not pull too hard as she threaded the needle through their cold, damp skin. She looked up at them when she was done with the first patch and smiled. “See? My sewing lessons in school actually paid off.” She ushered to the next one and for Metzli to shift so she could get better access to it, laying her hands flat on their side for a moment, warming the skin up around the wound. “And you do have a nice physique. I’m allowed to look,” she stated, as if there was no room for argument. She didn’t look over at Milo, though.

[MED BLOOD TW END]

She glanced down at their hand on her knee. “So what if I do dig scars? My girlfriend has plenty for me to admire.” She took up the needle again and set to work, looking over at Milo. “Please don’t break anything. I would like to only have to patch up one friend at a time, thanks.”

There was a strained laugh when Bex admitted she was allowed to look. It always felt so humorous when she revealed her attraction to Metzli in some form or fashion. They supposed it fed into their ego, but at this point, it was just a fun game. “It’s always hilarious to get you to admit I’m attractive. See, Milo? I’m hot.” Metzli laughed harder, but tried to contain it in order to let Bex work effectively. The wincing was kept to a minimum for the most part, but at some points, it was difficult to keep the groans of pain muffled. When they squeezed their hands, it wasn’t too hard, but enough to cause notice. “Sorry. I just—sorry.” The pain took them back to their fear, the fear of Eloy’s impending arrival.

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

With the final stitch, Metzli’s eyes shut tightly and they tried their best to hold whatever tears that flowed forward, back. They could see Anselmo attacking them, they could see Eloy punishing them once again, they could see themselves dying and all of it scared them. They’d never been scared of dying before, but then again, they’d never had anything to lose. All humor was lost now, and tears streamed down their face even though they tried desperately to go back to what they were before.

Finally, their voice broke through and Metzli was able to ask their friends what had been on their mind. “Has Master Eloy contacted both of you? Did he threaten you?”

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

Milo watched Bex tease Metzli before fully dedicating herself to her task. It was clear she was feeling more comfortable, less overwhelmed by their current situation. Rolling his eyes at the mention of Metzli’s physique, he decided not to say anything. There were only so many times he could playfully disagree before it stopped being funny, and started feeling cruel. “Sure,” he answered instead. “You can’t choose what you’re into, right?” His smile growing when Bex began to talk about Mina’s scars, he ignored the voice in the back of his mind, the one telling him he was the only person in the room without some form of romantic interest. It was something he had been thinking about an awful lot, as of late. And he hated that he had started to want something so unnecessary, and inconsequential. Hadn’t he spent his entire life without a boyfriend, or a significant other? He was perfectly fine on his own. “Hey, if I break anything it’s going to be Metzli’s fault.” He pointed out, holding up their joined hands. “Don’t look at me.” Tightening his grip so that Metzli would know he wasn’t being serious, he inched closer to them, letting his shoulder rest against theirs.

[EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

“Hot is subjective.” He added, unable to help himself when Metzli continued to encourage their friend. Though it was undeniably amazing to see them so genuinely happy, it didn’t last as long as he might have hoped. The pain, and reality of their injuries was all too ready to bring them back down again. But he stayed where he was, knowing they would find comfort in the physical contact. “Do you want to talk about something else?” He asked, noticing they had closed their eyes. If only he could distract them, but he wasn’t given the chance. If anything, Metzli decided now was the time to distract him. Caught off guard by the mention of Eloy, he so wished he could convince them to stop calling him Master. It made him uncomfortable, it was an unsettling reminder that no matter what Metzli said, they still had a warped sense of respect for the man, or at the very least some twisted sense of loyalty. Tensing in a way he knew wouldn’t go unnoticed, he caught Bex’s eye, silently questioning whether they should be honest about what had transpired. “I-” He broke off, the words dying in his throat. “I don’t think you should be worrying about that. Not right now.”

[EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW END]

Bex’s nose scrunched. “Why’s it funny? I’ve never denied your attractiveness. You’re very attractive and so is Milo. You know,” she glanced over at him with a cheeky grin, “for a guy.” With the stitches finished, Bex leaned back. “There.” She reached out to pat Metzli’s leg, taking the hand they’d placed on her knee and squeezing it. Her face faltered at the mention of Eloy and the messages and she cast a quick look over to Milo, wondering what he might say about it. As she thought, he decided to try and avoid the topic. Milo didn’t like lying to his friends. He already told Bex he didn’t think she should hide this from Mina, but he didn’t understand-- sometimes you needed to lie, to keep people safe, to keep them okay. Mina was dealing with too much right now, she didn’t need this, too. And Metzli didn’t need to know what he’d said to her, they were also dealing with enough. Bex swallowed, forced a smile, and shook her head. “No, but, like Milo said, let’s not think about that right now,” she urged.

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

Metzli was crying, though, and Bex really hated it when people she cared about cried. She reached out with her free hand and wiped away some of the tears on their face. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said softly, “you’re safe.” Those were words she’d needed to hear every time she’d thought her mother might come barging in to Morgan’s house and try and steal her away. Or every time she thought she might fall back into that dark alleyway where she was being mauled to death by a friend. Or stalked by Frank. Or dying in a cabin. You’re safe, you’re safe. But Bex was beginning to realize that no one was ever really safe. There wasn’t safe, there was just feeling safe. Being with people who you trusted to keep you safe, to protect you. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms back around Metzli, gently this time. She wanted to be that safe person. She could be that safe person.

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW END]

And, besides, Eloy hadn’t technically threatened her. Only the people she loved. She’d tear him limb from limb while he was still alive, though, if he even touched any of them. That she was sure of.

Metzli zoned out again, consumed by the anxiety that was reeling through their mind. And then their hand was squeezed, and then arms surrounded them. Body went stiff and they almost lashed out until they could see Bex clearly. Safety. “Right. I don’t have to think about it…right now.” Relaxing into Bex, they let their tears fall and settled into her arms, still squeezing Milo’s hand. Having friends was not a bad thing. Connections weren’t bad. Everything Eloy had taught them was wrong. That was becoming more and more clear.

“Can we just stay here?” Metzli asked through small, choked sobs. “I just want to feel safe.”

“Ha ha, can we not?” Milo deadpanned, his eyes shining as he looked between his friends. But he soon fell silent again, a familiar sense of sobriety settling over him. He hadn’t lied to Metzli, he had been honest in the fact that Eloy’s messages weren’t something they should be thinking about while they were trying to rest and recover. Bex had outright told them no, told them Eloy hadn’t made any effort to get into contact. His stomach churned uncomfortably, but he couldn’t bring himself to take back her words. It wasn’t his place, and it would only make the situation worse. Waiting patiently as Bex brushed away Metzli’s tears, he smiled to himself. There was something so genuinely innocent about Bex holding Metzli, nothing else really came into play. Age, species, soul or no soul… he would do almost anything for these two people. He loved them unconditionally, and that was what he needed to focus on. He saw Metzli tense upon instinct, but he also saw the moment they realised they were safe, saw the moment that tension filtered from their body to be replaced by something soft, and sincere. “No, you don’t…” He assured them, making a note to tell them about Eloy’s messages when they were feeling better. “Of course we can stay here… we aren’t going anywhere.” Reaching out to carefully pack away the medical supplies, when they were safely inside their container he wrapped an arm around Metzli, and Bex, pulling them closer so that he could rest his cheek against Metzli’s shoulder. There weren’t many places he considered home, but Metzli’s apartment was very quickly becoming one of them.

Maybe, Bex thought, maybe things would all be okay. Maybe this problem would solve itself and no one else would get hurt. But she knew that wasn’t true. She didn’t say much as Milo folded into the hug with them and she settled her head against Metzli’s quiet chest. There was no heartbeat, and none from Milo either, so it was only her heart, beating slow but steady-- something it hadn’t done in a long time-- as she listened to the quiet sobs coming from her friend. She bit the inside of her cheek and held back her own. “We’ll stay,” she answered after a long moment of silence, “I’m not going anywhere.” She moved herself and shimmied onto the couch beside Metzli, kept them in her arms. “You’re safe.”

And maybe Bex didn’t quite believe that, but she could make sure Metzli did. That was really all that mattered.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #to build a home #medical blood tw #domestic abuse tw #emotional abuse tw #chatzy: milo #chatzy: metzli #metzli #milo

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

Text

Death Rings Twice || Morgan and Eilidh

TIMING: Current

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

SUMMARY: While searching for answers, Morgan and Eilidh realize the situation is worse than they realized.

CONTAINS: conversations with dead people

They came and went in waves. The first time, only the first time, Eilidh believed them to be just a part of being a ghost. James had done so many times—go in and out of view like the watts on a bulb. But those changes had been consensual, come upon by his own will, and he never truly left. Not like she had, and did, and still do. Moments of nothingness. Blink and she was gone, truly and ultimately gone. Blink and she was back, not even left with a memory. Just a faint recollection, a faint feeling of a blank. Like trying to recall a blackout. You knew it was there, you felt it too—pages torn from a book. But you also didn’t, couldn’t, for nothingness was all that remained. Nothingness that seemed to be her destination. Those blinks got longer, longer, longer. With no sign of slowing.

Eilidh knew Morgan was facing her own bouts of strangeness. Maybe they were connected. Morgan believed them to be—magic set loose like a wildfire, with them in its path. Consumed in its flames, would it burn them all the way to the ground? Or would they come out the other side, for the better? This curiosity, and a gnawing worry, compelled her forward, right into Morgan’s residence. She ventured through those great and winding halls, as if she already haunted the place. She ought to haunt at least one. Before it became too late. Passing by an open door, that familiar face was finally seen. Eilidh stopped, stared. Felt that nothingness threatening to claim her again. Visage flickered—like a light on its dying breath. But the feeling passed, leaving her there, shining on. The motion, or her very presence, must’ve caused a stir. The two women met each other’s eyes.

“Boo.”

Morgan just needed to find the right book. Zombies had been around for ages and so even if whatever was happening to her was obviously very rare, it must have happened to someone else before. And that someone must have wanted to write it down. Because magic directly affecting a zombie body at all was worth writing about; doing so in this cruel, backwards way defied everything she understood about magic and living matter. So, Morgan sat on the floor in the library, swimming through a large haul from the scriberary, searching. When Macleod appeared behind the volume she was holding, calling boo, Morgan yelped with surprise.

“Oh! Stars! That was--” she laughed uneasily. “That was something alright.” She sat back and looked at the other woman. She had believed everything Macleod had told her but seeing her friend, so wild and earthbound, so connected to her flesh, floating and transparent was uncanny in a way her mind struggled to process. “I wish I had good news on the funky magic boogaloo front, but there’s just lots of dead ends so far. But that can wait. Are you...okay? At least, relative to our situation?

Good-hearted chuckle lept out of Eilidh—breaking the illusion of the spooky ghost in the corner. She closed the distance between the two, eyes curiously scanning the cover and pages of the book nestled in Morgan’s lap. More were strewn across the room, circling Morgan in a protective barrier, or perhaps a tomb—either for future study or determined unsuited. Where one group ended and the other began, she wasn’t sure. Mouth parted to offer assistance, her hands and mind well-versed to such a skill, but the words quickly died just as her flesh had. Wouldn’t be much use when turning a page was a difficult endeavor. She had learned that fact rather quickly.

When attentions were placed on her, Eilidh perked. “Aye. Convinced this guy his cereal was sentient. And some lady she could control plants.” Snort of delight shot out her nose as their faces returned to memory. But as the chuckles faded, so too did this delight. That lingering worry remained. A hand brushed her lips, seemingly in thought. “Also…” In absence of external stimuli, she bit on a knuckle. But where a prick of sensation, a prick of life, would usually awaken her hand, only a mere acknowledgement greeted her. Fucking hell, how has James not gone mad by now? A low growl rumbled, and at least it felt nice in her chest. Familiar. “Been going in and out. Kinda like blinking. If you did that with a soul. James says it isn’t normal. And they’re getting longer.” Another knuckle met her teeth; that same hollow impact replayed. “Guess it’s soon time.” Her eyes scanned Morgan, transferring the focus back to the other woman. Wandering gaze found the darkness under her friend’s eyes. “What ‘bout you?”

For what seemed like a long time, Morgan could only stare at her friend. Or rather, through her friend. She could see every title on the shelf behind her if she concentrated enough, because Macleod, despite speaking and smiling and grinning and mischief-ing as much as she had ever done, was incorporeal and transparent. Like a ghost. A baby undead ghost. Which wasn’t supposed to exist. “..Blinking? What? Uh, that sounds bad. And weird. I’ve never heard of ghosts doing that before. They cross over, and they have some kind of teleportation thing, but they don’t play peek-a-boo with a whole plane of existence. That’s…” Another very strange, logic defying twist of magic.

Morgan cleared her head and tried to answer Macleod’s questions. “I woke up at the beginning of the week able to feel again. All my physical senses that went dull were back. It took some adjusting, but I think it was more or less how they were when I was alive. But then my body started decaying even when I was full, or more than full, and healing was fading and now it’s basically gone! So I’m basically rotting away for no discernable reason, and I get to be super physically aware of all of it. Also, I smell, so maybe it’s a good thing you don’t have any senses right now. When did your stuff start? I mean, none of this should be happening at all, because the undead are immune to spellcasting magic that engages with our body’s energy, as far as I can tell, and we’re immune to most drugs and toxins, and I haven’t found anyone else in town being effected like this, so it’s not the big cosmic town bullshit--but if we can get a timeline, maybe that will tell us...something.” She sighed and closed the book in her lap, staring off into anywhere but Macleod’s face. The whole world was slipping through their fingers, just when she’d thought it really did want them after all.

Curt laugh escaped Eilidh. “Yeah. You’re telling me.” Just her luck to be subjected to the worst game of peek-a-boo in existence. Maybe her soul truly did want to pass over, but this supposed magic was keeping her here? Maybe the universe was trying to remedy the fact she shouldn’t have remained—at least not in this form—but the magic tried to go against the very will of the cosmos? Thoughts followed that tangent until it caused a dizziness. Bah, there’s too many maybes and what-ifs. She snapped a finger, sharp noise bringing her back to the present. Mind focused on Morgan’s words, her own story. As such a tale unfolded, her face fell, allowing that worry bubbling inside to find itself in her eyes, her parted mouth. Just as quickly, her eyes tightened, mouth closed, jaws tightened. Resolve overcame the worry, gave her goal new fire. “Aye. That is real bad.” Especially when it started so promising—the worst kind. “Best we hop to it prompto, then. Know anything I can look over? Double-check? Triple-check?” The ways of magic, the ways others shifted the energies of the world to their will, was not a strong subject of hers. But perhaps there were other pieces of the puzzle her ever inquisitive eyes could find. She needed that hunt, after all. Needed something to do—when all things physical brought boredom at best, her mind frequently rushed into restlessness.

Eilidh recalled the start of this plight. “I died beginning of this week.” The same as Morgan’s own unfortunes; a fact that did not escape her. “Or alchemied this way. Or some other magic.” At this point, she wasn’t sure which was true. Death was more reasonable to her. Familiarity always felt more reasonable, and she was very familiar with death. But Morgan seemed convinced its cause was magically induced and, well, she was the expert in that regard. Not Eilidh. “Blinked out the first time a few days later. Didn’t think too much of it. ‘Til a few more days later when it kept happening.” How much longer would this affliction let her speak with Morgan? Would it rip her away mid-sentence, as it had with Milo? Sharp snap of fingers returned. Temptation to bite the nagging thoughts away surfaced—to subject another knuckle to her teeth. But the snap sufficed. For now.

Morgan sat back, thinking. The town had already been shifted in the cosmos by the time she and Macleod were affected. And no one else she spoke to, dead or undead, was feeling anything strange in their body. So why them? And how? It didn’t seem right that the universe should literally change its rules just to be cruel to them. And if an alchemy break-through was responsible for Macleod, it didn’t explain her progressive deterioration. She would have to be confined to a circle in order for that to be the case, and the energy required to continually re-write her body would be outrageous.

She looked over at Macleod, aching to give her an answer. “I only have a few general compendiums on the stuff, but maybe there’s some kind of sickness, or some kind of critter that can affect people like us. Like, bookwyrms and brain biters mess with people’s brains, and there’s plenty of necrophages out there maybe…” Some magic, universe defying critter happened to chomp on both of them without their noticing on the exact same night? Morgan could hardly stand to hope for the idea, it sounded ridiculous enough in her head. But she had to try. If she stopped trying, this thing would take her. “Maybe there’s one that can explain this. Weird abilities that make people incorporeal or mess with their magic composition. Um, it’s those thick ones back there--” She pointed. “Or you could check out the area, see if anything unusual is sniffing around. Every critter’s gotta eat and sleep somewhere.” She smiled feebly. “We’ll figure this out before it’s too late. We’ve got too much to live for, right?”

“Critters!” The word shot out like a bullet. That was more Eilidh’s forte. A hand returned thoughtfully to her lips, though a bite did not come. Her mind was moving far too fast to focus on anything physical. Feet began to pace without her knowledge, beating against the air as if they contributed to her movements anymore. “Those bees cause hallucinations…” What were they called again? Those dick-hive bees. She had still yet to encounter them personally—such a treat will have to wait when she finally visits… that woman. Knowledge was acquired specifically for said venture, so she really should remember… “Eintykara.” But as research came tumbling back into her mind, so did an issue. “No. Cold.” Such weathers would cause them to grow sluggish—springing into action now would make no sense. “Hm. Caballi?” Her encounter with one had been very brief, but James’ was much more intimate. And she had certainly heard stories that mimicked their own. Of ghosts being attacked by them. Or more accurately, being fed upon by them. Could be the cause of their deterioration, those astral feedings. Perhaps they can affect zombies too? “But never saw…” They weren’t exactly invisible, to people like them. But much of them was left unknown, on this world at least. Could be a special sort?

More ideas flowed into Eilidh’s mind. And just easily flowed back out—conflictions and contradictions found in every sort. Though the universe was vast and wide and full of exceptions. Hardly anything could be said with certainty. And hardly everything was stored in her mind—that vastness refusing to be contained in just one thing. Or even in one world; creatures not found in any book had laid just beyond those cracks in the air. One, or two, or more could’ve slipped through. “You could be onto something.” Her feet stilled, and it was only then she realized she had been on the move at all. But they already missed that constant motion. Focus turned to the mentioned books, causing a chuckle to stir. “Would. But these guys do whatever the hell they want.” She wiggled her fingers and they blended and meddled together, like waves crashing into each other. “I’ll look ‘round. You focus on the books. We’ll see this through.” There was an attempt to turn and leave, but something held her there just a moment longer. Those hints of decay sprinkled on Morgan’s form—some grown worse over the course of their conversation. “Think you’ll manage?” The question spanning far beyond just Morgan’s research capability.

With the way Macleod lit up at the suggestion, Morgan could actually start to believe they were onto something. The world was full of strange things and there was so much they didn’t know. Of course if it wasn’t someone it had to be something. Maybe even a creature from another dimension. Some of the critters in those portals had probably gotten stuck on this side when Adam closed them, too, and maybe that was why they couldn’t understand the rules this infection worked on.

Morgan met Macleod’s eyes bravely. They were looking for a needle in a haystack. It might take weeks to comb through all of White Crest and identify the exact creatures they were looking for, especially if they turned out to be beyond sapient record on this world. But they would figure it out, wouldn’t they?

Somewhere beyond them, bewildered geese flapped their way to the sky and called to each other for safety, snow crunched under tired feet, a wind blew through the hollow tunnels of the world. Morgan took it all in, staring through the frosted windows. This was a world that buried its secrets better than its dead, but it was also one where life persisted in the most bitter cold. If anyone was proof of that, surely it was her and Macleod. And Morgan had a future to get to; Macleod probably did too, and if she didn’t, she deserved to stick around long enough to come up with one. So she had to be okay. There wasn’t room in this scenario for her not to be.

Morgan summoned her best smile and hoped with all she had that Macleod believed it and let some of the warmth rub off on her. “I’ve got this. And so do you. Death cut us a break once, right? Twice should be just as easy.”

That smile filled the air, found its way on Eilidh’s face, lifting her spirits in turn. Hell yeah. They had this. That implication hung in the air, threatened to bring it all back down. The one where she died. This soul she carried certainly had—will again. And technically death had touched her a few days prior. But the implication ran deeper than that, tied her to an assumption she kept getting chained to. But she did not let that weight touch her; only a twitch of a brow, a tighten of lips, betrayed these thoughts. Resolve kept her steady—kept them both just the same. Fate may try to give them a losing hand, but she’ll keep playing until a full house. And if not, well, seems she’s had her time then. Her soul will enjoy more, if these pesky blinks didn’t consume her in totality. For fate was hungry this week—eating away at her very soul, at Morgan’s very flesh. Was it feeding on others? How far did this hunger spread? She had no mind, no time to worry about passerbyers on the street. Those teeth readied to pierce again, steal more of them away. But she’ll try her hand at dentistry and rip them out before all was taken. “Good to hear! Let’s give this a–”

She vanished.

#wr eilidh #wr chatzy #wr eilidh chatzy #death rings twice

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