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pallasperilous · 4 years ago

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Funny Bone

The other day Supernatural9917 threw out this meme as a cracky Halloween Dean/Cas prompt and I was SO MAD, because I then had to write it:

And so here it is. Goddammit.

Funny Bone

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761150 Words: 4930 Castiel/Dean Winchester Fluff and Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Skeletons, Bad Pick-Up Lines, No Angels AU, Men of Letters Bunker, Mild Gore Mature (mentions of lewd acts, canon-typical violence, and some truly horrible pickup lines)

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland. It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

Discovering the bunker in the first place was a helluva surprise. The whole facility is legitimately batshit; Dead Guys of Letters knew how to live (and, apparently, die. All at once.).

But after plowing through a dozen rooms worth of priceless treasures and crusty boobytraps, even Sam was looking kinda full up on shock and awe.

“We can hit the basement tomorrow,” he said. There was a big smudge of dust across his nose and some cobwebs in his hair.

“Nuh uh,” Dean answered, kicking the door shut with the toe of his boot. “If there’s shit still kicking down there, we gotta clean it out before it cleans us out. It’s that or we’re sleepin’ in the car.”

“Ugh,” Sam said, as if twenty minutes ago he hadn’t been losing his mind over a rare book about werewolf hemorrhoids.

So discovering that the basement included a no-shit actual dungeon felt more like an unanticipated bonus, and stumbling across a skeleton while exploring it barely even registered. Skeletons and dungeons! They go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong.

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor, inside a big circle of greasy black ash. It looked a little mildewy in in places. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland.

It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

“Welp,” Dean had said, holstering his gun and wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re all clear. Let’s head back upstairs, salt the shit out of everything, and then we can pick up some groceries.”

“Do I get to buy a vegetable that doesn’t fit in a bun, or are we still in the refractory period?” Sam snarked from the corridor.

“I don’t see you cookin’, “ Dean started, shuffling back towards the hall, and that’s when the skeleton butted in.

“Are those astronaut pants?” it asked. “Because your ass is outta this world!”

Dean absolutely did not scream, but it’s possible there was a yelp.

He almost unloaded a clip into it – unclear what that would’ve possibly done, but it’s good to start with the simple, available solutions. Next he nabbed the lighter fluid off of Sam and dumped out half a pound of kosher salt as a chaser and set the fucker alight.

This does not have the intended effect.

“Baby, I’d like to put my meat on your grill,” the skeleton says, greenish flames dancing between its ribs, “because you’re hot, and I’m smokin’.” Then it sits up a little, just enough to shoot Dean some finger guns.

“What the fuck,” Dean says.

Sam makes a little evaluatory noise. “Sexually harassed by a skeleton,” he chuckles. “I think that’s a new one. Even for you. Is that a new one? I know a lot of strange shit went down in Purgatory.”

The skeleton perks up even more at that, grungy eye sockets sweeping up and down Dean’s body. “Are you a time traveler?” it asks. (Maybe he asks, because the voice is pretty deep and dude-ish, although possibly just on account of its vocal cords being leather shoelaces.)

“Wh…no, I’m not a time traveler,” Dean fibs. He’s more of a time trafficking victim, anyway. “Oh, wait, god,” he says. “Please don’t tell me you’re asking that because –“

“– I can see you in my future,” the skeleton finishes, eagerly, and Dean really wishes this thing had eyebrows so he could tell if they’re waggling.

“Yeah, okay. That’s enough for today,” Dean groans. “I need a drink.” He starts to back out of the room as a pre-emptive strike against Bones commenting on how he hates to see Dean leave, but loves to watch him go. Dean’s working on stumbling back again Sam’s left shoe when the skeleton pipes up one last time, this time with a husky, anxious edge.

“I realize that Purgatory isn’t accessible through a simple chronological shift,” it says, teeth chattering. “But it does require travel between modalities, and if you’re capable of that, I would very much like to speak with you again.”

Dean and Sam’s heads slowly swivel back towards the skeleton, like two little pizzas on the same Lazy Susan.

An hour later, they’re still in the dungeon, working on dousing the skeleton with every possible anti-bad-stuff solution they’ve got, just in case he’s a vampire skeleton or a ghoul skeleton or a witch skeleton or maybe just a wendigo that’s incredibly bad at its job. In between progress reports, he’s still hitting on Dean.

“Dude, don’t you have an off switch somewhere?” Dean asks him.

“Well, Dean, you certainly make me feel like a light switch,–“

“– because you turn me on,” all three of them say in unison.

The skeleton looks a little embarrassed, which is kind of impressive when you think about it. “You’ve…heard that one before?” he asks.

“I spend a lot of time in bars,” Dean deadpans. “Okay, sage is a no-go.”

Sam strikes a line off on the clipboard he found upstairs. “Is this part of a curse or something?” he asks, glancing up at Bones. “Like on top of being a sentient skeleton, you can only speak in horrible pickup lines?”

The skeleton shakes his head, which produces a sound Dean recognizes from his kneecaps on cold mornings. “No, the spellwork allows me to speak freely on most subjects; except who I am, or how to free me. But it’s helpful to use language modern humans can easily understand.”

“Huh. Well, in a way, it is Dean’s native tongue,” Sam says, smirking.

“You shut your face,” Dean hisses.

“When I first saw you, I lost my tongue. Can I try yours on for size?” Bones asks Dean.

“Buddy, I don’t know where you get your information from, but nobody actually talks that way,” Dean tells him. “Nobody sober, anyway. Who isn’t a virgin.”

The skeleton slumps. “I learned from my last visitor. He tried to release me on several occasions, but he either died or abandoned the project.”

Dean arches a brow. “The project being…you?”

“I would be very valuable under the right circumstances.” The skeleton shrugs and casually holds out an arm for Dean to scrape at with the demon blade. “He gave me lessons in modern vernacular as a way to pass our time together.”

“Sounds like a peach,” Dean says, before he can catch himself. “If you have a peach-related pickup line in there, man, you’d better just sit on it.”

“That’s what-“

“I will smash you with a hammer,” Dean barks.

The skeleton relents, but with obvious reluctance.

They call it quits before Kansas rolls up the sidewalk for the night and leaves them stranded with nothing but two Clif bars and a gross of septuagenarian cans of franks ’n beans. Bones shifts nervously when Dean leaves – “Which is better, pancakes or waffles?” he asks.

“Pancakes,” Dean says, with a sense of grim duty.

“Because I’d like to know what you’re making me for breakfast,” says Bones, his voice trailing off as Dean books it down the stony corridor.

By lunch the next day (bologna sandwiches, so sue him, he’ll make something good later) they’re pretty sure that Bones doesn’t pose any known, immediate threat – other than to Dean’s sanity – so they switch gears to springing him. Maybe he will be worth something, or maybe he’ll crumble into dust and Be Free, or maybe he’ll just stop being chained to the basement wall, in which case he can become their skeleton butler or something.

There are weird runes on the ankle cuff, so Sam snaps some quick photos and heads upstairs to feel up the library. This leaves Dean in the basement with Bones, some good old-fashioned power tools, and Bones’s ex-suitor’s gross sense of humor.

“You know I can understand you just fine when you’re talking normally,” Dean says. “You’re just reciting some prehistoric shit that idiots say to girls to get a pity-laugh, hoping it leads to a pity-fuck.”

“What’s a pity-fuck?” Bones asks, all mildewy innocence. Dean’s pretty sure the grunge in his eyeball sockets is dried eyeball.

“Pretty much what it says on the tin, my guy,” Dean answers, and reaches for the acetylene torch.

“Enochian,” Sam says, when Dean surfaces for another sandwich and possibly a beer. He’s really disappointed about the torch.

“Gesundheit?” Dean replies, around a mouthful of bologna. Like everything else here, the kitchen is pretty schwa, although the inside of the fridge required three exorcisms and half a jug of bleach.

Sam paws around the smelly old book in a way that makes Dean feel sorry for the girls Sam dated in high school. “The symbols on the cuff. I think they’re Enochian. It’s a fake celestial language made up by some sixteenth century con artists.”

Dean coughs up a bit of Wonder Bread. “I respect the hustle, but what’s it doing on an ankle cuff in a dungeon younger than Mickey Mouse?”

Sam frowns. “Well, it could be for show. But just because some nutbars made it up doesn’t mean it’s totally powerless. Maybe it does have some kind of…heavenly mojo.”

“Liwl probbem,” Dean observes, finishing off his sandwich. “Def nuh heggen.”

“Huh?”

Dean takes a swallow of beer. “I said: there’s no heaven.”

Sam shrugs. “We didn’t think there was a Purgatory, either.”

“Okay, but if we find out angels are real,” Dean snorts, “then Bones can fuck me in the ass.”

Sam reports his findings to Bones, who sits placidly on the back of his pelvis, carpals splayed out on his kneecaps. What’s even holding him together? Dean can see what’s left of his ligaments, but they look like petrified gas station jerky.

“Do you know what they mean?” Sam asks him, pointing at the sigils.

Bones’s jaw creaks open a little, then closes again, and then he shakes his skull (something rattles inside.) Finally he makes a little frustrated noise and replies – “Baby, are you a book? Because I’d like to check you out.”

“Hey!” says Dean. “Keep it in your pants, man, I’m right here.”

Sam squints. “I think…Dean, I think he’s trying to tell us something, but the spell on him means he can’t say it directly.”

Bones clenches his fists, releases them, clenches them again.

“Yeah. Keep him talking. Let’s see how close he can get.”

Clack clack clack.

“Uh,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. Do I need to, like. Give you some kinda opening?” he asks Bones.

“Sweetheart, I’d like nothing better,” Bones answers, then clacks his knuckles on his brow with exasperation.

“Sorry, Christ. Hit me with your best shot, buddy. Dealer’s choice.”

Bones clears his…ghost throat? and tries: “Tell me, Dean…did it hurt?”

Dean blinks. “When I…fell from heaven?”

Sam claps his hands. “Fucking knew it. It is Enochian, and it does have something to do with this. I think he wants me to check the library for another book. Maybe there’s one misshelved or something that I can actually use to translate. Or I can Google around, maybe there’s a subreddit.”

Dean’s pretty sure Bones has never heard of a Google or a subreddit (for that matter, does Dean actually know what a subreddit is?), but it seems like there’s a glimmer of hope deep in those scum-holes.

Sam gets translations for a few of the words – “obedience” and something he’s fifty percent sure means “millstone” – but the rest is still gobbledygook, and he hasn’t come down with another update in hours. The dungeon is pretty roomy, but it’s not like there’s a foosball table or a cable TV pickup down there, so Dean and Bones wind up lying on the cold-ass ground, staring up into the dark reaches of the ceiling together and, like. Chatting.

Occasionally Bones goes quiet and Dean glances over at him. He really could just be a totally normal, completely dead dungeon skeleton. A good power washing and the right mounting hardware and he’d be ready for a high school biology classroom.

“So if these runes are a celestial thing, does that mean you’re some kinda demonic...thing?” Dean asks. “Cause I gotta say, you’re a much less of a douche than the demons I’ve met.” He snorts. “I know you probably can’t say.”

Bones sighs (how? With what lungs?). “The last person who tried to free me was a demon.” He shifts a little, maybe surprised that he can say this out loud. “It had been so long since somebody had spoken to me…I’m afraid I came close to actually enjoying his company. But he was no better than his kind usually are.”

“Don’t suppose you caught his name? Maybe Sam or me killed him for you already.”

“He called himself—no, I can’t say it.” He makes a sound resembling a harumph.

Then his skull creaks over to look at Dean. “Does your name start with ‘C’?” he says, very deliberately.

Dean is momentarily puzzled, but he works it out by the time Bones wincingly adds “…because I’ve got a D that wants to come behind you.”

There aren’t too many demons under the “C” tab in Dean’s blood-stained mental rolodex, and when he says the name out loud, Bones makes a sound like an entire set of dominos being thrown down a spiral staircase.

Crowley is pretty pissed, which is fun.

It’s nice that the dungeon floor already has a perfect trap on the floor; they don’t even have to hit up Ace Hardware for paint. A damp shop cloth and a little nail polish (Wet ’n Wild in “Red Red,” don’t leave home without it) brings it right up to working order.

“Why does it smell like a nail salon fucked a bloody wine cellar?” Crowley says, after he’s settled down a bit. He manifested right in the creepy torture chair (in the shackles, even! What service!) and he made some escape attempts followed by angry noises about rust stains. Now he’s recovered his dignity and has kicked back a bit, legs crossed, fingers steepled, oozing maximum levels of 2 cool 4 school.

“How do you know what a nail salon smells like?” Dean retorts.

“I get a monthly mani-pedi. There’s no shame in a little self-care, boys.” Crowley’s eyes trickle down to their feet. “Imagine what fungal horrors those work boots must conceal.” Then he squints, and looks up, finally taking in the whole room. “Could swear I’ve been here before. Little upscale for you, isn’t it? Did we splurge for a vacation rental?”

“Crowley, why don’t we roleplay Titanic?” Bones growls from the wall behind him, and Crowley’s face goes slack. “I’ll be the iceberg, and you can go down.”

Crowley swallows and slowly twists back, as far as the shackles let him. “Feathers, is that you? Well, as I live and breathe.”

“You do neither,” says Bones, with so much gravelly contempt that Dean suppresses a little shiver.

“Oh, I still breathe now and then, when the mood takes me. I’m a sentimentalist.” Crowley cranes his neck a little harder and squints into the dim. “Goodness, you’ve dropped some weight since we last spoke, haven’t you. Finally let go of all that pesky soft tissue?”

Bones tilts forward and kind of clatters onto hands and knees, then tipsily begins to rise up to standing. Dean’s a little concerned he’s gonna topple right over and they’re gonna spend the next two hours collecting him in a basket, but when he moves to help out, Bones waves him off. After a couple false starts he makes it up onto his feet bones and then shuffles out to the end of his chain, right under one of the overhead lights. He’s still a good couple feet off from Crowley, but Crowley looks like he wouldn’t mind a few extra acres.

Bones sways a little bit, just enough for Crowley to wince. “You didn’t come back.”

“I got busy.”

Sam shifts impatiently. “What is he?” he snaps, gesturing at Bones.

“Exceedingly dull,” Crowley says. “I should’ve guessed you were friends.”

Dean uncorks a fresh bottle of holy water.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Crowley amends, quickly. “And even if you did, you wouldn’t know what to do with him. It’d be like giving a laptop to a pair of howler monkeys.”

Dean puts his thumb over the mouth of the water bottle and holds it over Crowley’s head. “Try me.”

Crowley scoffs, rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what he is, since he’s useless as long as he’s chained up. And I wouldn’t have left him down here if I had a single clue how to smuggle him out. I haven’t even been in here since the Bay of Pigs; I’d worked a loophole in one of the defense spells here that let me in. When it broke down, I lost my exploit. Wasn’t worth the bother after that.”

Dean slides his thumb a millimeter north of a perfect seal, and a fat drop of water busts its ass open on Crowley’s forehead and sends up a thin line of steam. “Good thing I’ve got a limitless supply of bother,” Dean notes. “Sam, we still got those syringes in the trunk?”

Crowley snarls. “Go ahead and melt me like the cartoon shoe in Roger Rabbit, it’s not going magically make me come up with a solution.”

Bones grunts and rattles his leg chain. “Do you speak Spanish, Crowley? Because you look like the Juan for me.”

“Did I teach you that one? You absolute xylophone.” Crowley glances back at Dean. “Do your worst, Squirrel, I deserve it.”

Sam frowns. “He uses the lines to get around the spell’s speech restrictions. This is something about speaking languages…were you able translate the Enochian symbols on his cuff?”

Crowley blinks. “What symbols?”

After a whole lot of faffing around with mirrors and terrible cellphone photography, they confirm that Crowley can’t see the symbols at all.

“More demon-proofing. Clever little buggers, those Men of Letters,” Crowley sighs. “A real shame they were peeled and eaten like bananas.”

Finally Sam just hunkers down with a pencil and pad to transcribe the entire ankle cuff, and Dean awkwardly holds up Bones’s ankle, like he’s being sized for a glass slipper. When they shove the results in Crowley’s face, Dean watches his eyes dart along the words.

“Well, it’s your lucky day, boys. Along with the usual wankery, there are instructions on how to release the cuff. I can translate it,” he finally says, with an unusually low inflection of bullshit, “but I’ll thank you to release me, first.”

Dean is flummoxed. “What, you’re not gonna haggle for a cut of the profits or anything?”

“Activating the release mechanism will free him completely, and restore his…restore him. I’d rather be at a safe distance.” He glances back at Bones, looming in the shadows. “A continent or three should do the trick.”

“If it doesn’t work–“

“I’d be more worried about what happens if it does,” Crowley sighs. “But feel free to summon me back for tea and sympathy. Here, I’ll even give you my number. But please, no personal photography. I pity you enough as it is.”

Crowley finally smokes out, and Dean has a beer to celebrate while Sam looks over the list of what they need and Bones clatters his fingertips like castanets. The ingredients are (as always) larded with shit that’s exotic and expensive; Sam is looking crestfallen at some of the items. “I’ve heard of all of this, but I’ve only seen maybe half of it for sale anywhere.”

“Baby, are you a yard sale? Because you’ve got some serious junk in that trunk,” Bones monotones. He’s back to lying on the floor.

At least it’s getting easier to translate this shit. “They’ve got all the ingredients here somewhere,” Dean says. Sam looks skeptical. “C’mon, Sam, no way these dudes would use a lock when they didn’t have the key.”

The ensuing scavenger hunt takes a few pints of elbow grease, but at least by the end they’re both familiar with the Bunker’s floor plan, document filing system, and inventory records. They find virtually everything in-house, though they do end up driving to the nearest farm stand for some hen’s eggs and rosemary (and heirloom tomatoes, because they look bomb).

Dean christens – or maybe exorcises – the kitchen range with some red meat, and they fuel up with burgers before taking the plunge. Dean’s still licking the ketchup off his fingers when Bones pipes up one last time. “Can I ask you something?” he says.

Dean and Sam brace for impact.

Bones sighs. “That’s not the start of a pickup line. I genuinely have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why are you so intent on freeing me? You could have just left me down here. I’m not a threat this way. You only have Crowley’s word that you might profit - or suffer - from my release.”

Sam gives Dean a look; it’s the look that says I sure hope you have an answer, because I think this entire thing has been dumb as shit and half as necessary. It’s a look Sam uses pretty regularly.

“Uh. It’s the right thing to do? As far as I can tell, you haven’t hurt anybody or done anything else to deserve being down here. We went through all those records upstairs, and there’s no note that says ‘by the way, that skeleton downstairs eats babies for breakfast.’ This place is cool, but the dudes who built it were obviously shady as fuck.”

“I see.” Bones sounds a little disappointed.

Sam fake-coughs into his hand, and Dean sets down his paper napkin. “Also, you seem cool. Like, you’re easy to hang out with. Other than the stinky one-liners, and we’re gonna wean you off of those.”

Bones straightens himself out a little. “Thank you, Dean. You know, on a scale of one to ten, I’d rate you a nine.”

“Okay, okay. Why not a ten?”

Bones sets his chin on his knuckle bones with a tidy little clack. “Because I’m the one you’re missing.”

Dean groans, but he thinks the guy might be smiling, somewhere behind that skeletal grin.

By hour two, Sam’s pretty tuckered out from pulverizing a billion and three mummified dove livers while reciting nonsense syllables, and Dean’s right arm is about to fall off from holding up this giant silver swizzle stick that’s either a really weird short sword or a decorative javelin, but Bones has never looked perkier. He’s lying on a nice white bedsheet and looking fresh as a recently exhumed daisy.

“Okay,” Sam rasps. “Light the candle and we should be good to go. Any last words, Bones?”

“Are either of you religious?” He crosses his arm bones over each other.

“Fuck no,” Dean answers, before Sam gets a chance to launch into it.

Bones shakes his skull fondly. “You should reconsider. Because you’re the answer to my prayers.”

Dean makes a gagging noise and lights the candle.

What happens next (well, after the cuff pops open) is some of the freakiest shit that Dean has ever seen, and his Freaky CV is pretty fucking impressive, thanks. Bones tells them to avert their eyes, “just in case”, but he takes a peek between his fingers anyway, because he’s an idiot.

For a second Bones is just lying there, and Dean has a second of real disappointment that maybe he’s Moved On Past The Veil or something, but then he starts…foaming. It starts out kind of uniform and colorless, but then it really picks up speed and volume and starts to separate into swaths of distinct and horrible colors and textures. He closes his eyes again for a second to give his stomach a chance to reboot, and when he looks again the foam is gone, and instead there’s a whole lot of angry jelly trying to form into organs.

Just as the jelly is really getting its shit together and looking more like lungs and intestines and stuff, the heart-jelly pulses once and sends out a fistful of big squishy vines…veins? and a fat white worm of nerve scrambles down the spinal column and starts putting out franchises. This is followed by some disturbingly tasty-looking red sheets of muscle that swiftly sheathe over all the whole scene, and then the muscles start sweating out fat and cartilage and this is the point where Dean decides that looking away is actually definitely one hundred percent for the best. Even then, the sounds are tough to handle.

Kinda wild: he’s seen people taken apart, but watching one get put back together is somehow gnarlier. Well, if this guy is even a person. It’s a human skeleton, sure, but god knows even Mickey Rourke has one under there.

Finally everything seems to have quieted down.

“How you doin’ over there, Bones?” Dean asks, and dares to take a peek.

Bones is crouched down in front of them, fists balled up in the bedsheets (it’s a relief that the bedsheets didn’t get accidentally sucked into the muscle layer or something, like one of those surgeons who leaves a sponge behind). Dean sees white guy skin and some dark messy hair and gets the gist of a decent build.

The face slowly cranes upwards, and Dean is really truly ready for anything here; tusks, fangs, Klingon forehead ridges, gingivitis. Instead he gets a faceful of hot math teacher. Bones’s eyes are still closed, but he’s frowning like he’s mentally reviewing his strategy to explain the quadratic equation to a roomful of horny teens.

He slowly rises to standing (yikes! Naked! Dean is a Moderately Bad Man, so he glances, but just long enough to register “nice), uncurling slowly and carefully.

Then he’s all the way up. Bones squares his shoulders and straightens the last kink in his spine, and the frown resolves. Dean’s about to say something, when his eyes snap open, and this cold white light absolutely blasts out of them, and fuck, Crowley wasn’t kidding: this guy is definitely A Thing. The whole room flattens and distorts in the light. Shadows race up the walls like they’re looking for a way out, then snap together into the shape of enormous ragged wings, stretching thirty feet higher than the actual ceiling clearance.

Then the light dies down; the wings fade into regular-grade shadows. Instead of a terrifying unearthly avatar of Oh Shit, Dean’s looking at a buck naked thirty-something math teacher. Who happens to be an unearthly avatar of Oh Shit. And has nice eyes.

“My name is Castiel, angel of the Lord, Seraph of the First Shield,” the avatar says, in a piss-shakingly resonant version of Bones’s voice.

Then: “Do you speak English, Dean?”

“Yes?” Dean fumbles.

“So do I,” says Castiel, and smiles.

Then he makes finger-guns.

Castiel sticks around for a grand total of five minutes before he’s suddenly gone again, because angels are (a) real and they can (b) teleport? at (c) any moment because (d) fuck you, then he reappears six hours later (clothed) standing over Dean’s bed, having apparently forgotten that humans like to sleep; this time Dean does shoot him, but luckily he doesn’t seem to take it personally.

“I located Crowley,” Bo- Castiel says. The silver sword-javelin thing is sitting on the kitchen counter in front of him; apparently it’s an Angel Blade and it lives in Castiel’s coat sleeve and can vaporize demons. It doesn’t look like it has any Crowley on it, but maybe it’s self-cleaning.

“Did you kill him?” Dean asks, now that he’s semi-coherent and wrapped around a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

“Not this time,” Cas answers. “He did help, after all.”

“Sure,” says Dean.

“You don’t need to let me fuck you in the ass, either,” Castiel says, and Dean honks some coffee up the back of his nose.

“Oh,” he gasps. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. Didn’t realize you could hear that convo all the way down there.”

“Angels have excellent hearing. Mine wasn’t impacted by the spell.”

Dean can think of at least three very private moments Castiel almost definitely could hear every instant of, and longs for death. Or maybe not, since apparently this guy lives in Heaven and could hear him there, too. “Great. Good to know. Noted.”

“But…” Castiel looks wistful.

“What?” Dean nudges him. Dean Winchester: angel nudger.

Castiel frowns. “If I said…” he stops himself. “This is…what I want to say is very irregular, at least between angels and humans.”

“Jesus christ on a goddamn pogo stick, man. It’s three in the morning, some of us have a circadian rhythm and a limited lifespan. Say whatever it is you gotta say.”

Castiel looks up and drowns Dean in his swimming pool eyes, which Dean has learned belong to a radio ad salesman in Illinois, who Castiel possessed a few years back before jumping several decades into the past to run some errands and getting rope-a-doped by the Men of Letters and then warehoused in their basement; after they all spontaneously bought the farm, he just slowly ran out of the power reserves needed to keep his vessel from turning to mush and hey presto, talking skeleton.

Classic story, really.

“If I said you had a beautiful body, Dean,” Castiel says, solemnly, “Would you hold it against m-“

Dean doesn’t let him finish. {AO3 version}

#spn fanfic #destiel #deancas #profoundnet #prompt fic

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ginger-bread-official · 4 years ago

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Moony and Thumper Hijinx

Ficlet of a budding friendship between Tonks and Lupin in Harry’s 3rd year. Tonks trains near hogsmead and has found a companion in Remus Lupin.

Tonks had no official reason to keep her security credentials to the castle. She had finished her dueling training and passed her exam with Moody, but she still wanted to have the freedom to go up to the castle when she pleased to visit her favorite werewolf. It had become apparent that Remus and her had become friends through all of the dueling lessons and afternoon tea that had transpired in the past few months. They would walk the grounds together, plot pranks on the twins, share old stories; she recently started confiding in him about her dating life. He of course was one voice in a choir telling her to get back on the horse and start dating after Tulip’s betrayal, but he was the only voice that listened when she spoke back. He laughed at her date’s blunders and only gently teased her about hers. It had come to her attention during her visits that the students weren’t the only ones noticing the charming werewolf. Aurora Sinestra was commonly found nearby with her deep chocolate eyes focusing more often on the DADA Professor.

“Oh Thumper give it a rest.” Lupin rolled his eyes hearing Tonks’ theory for the hundredth time, “Aurora is not interested in me.” They were in the library searching for reference material that the professor needed for a lesson.

“She most definitely is.” Tonks whispered back. “Every time I’m up here she’s prowling around the corner,” She scratched the air playfully “waiting to pounce on you.” Remus shook his head amused at the young auror. “I’m only sorry I’ve gotten in the way. I don’t mean to be a cock block.”

“I suspect you’re projecting your own frustrations on to me.”

“Don’t try and turn this around to me Moony.” She shut down his deflection. “She’s clearly into you, and you’re blind old wolf to not see it.”

“SHHHH.” The harsh hush of Madam Pince came from around the corner. Tonks winced at the sound. She definitely didn’t miss that old bat looming around every bookcase. The old crone retreated after shooting the pair a dirty look.

“Your going to get yourself a detention Miss Tonks.” Lupin said with a playful smirk. Tonks stuck her tongue out at him, “Mature.” He chortled as he handed her another book to hold.

“When did I become your pack mule?” She added the book to the growing stack.

“When you decided to hang around during my free period.”

“I thought free period meant free time.” She whined. “Like free time to pull one over on Sprout, or free to go flying for a bit.”

“This is when I plan my lessons. Would you rather I don’t teach my students.” He asked still looking through ��The Defensive Field Guide.’

“I’m sure they’d appreciate a day off. You’re working them pretty hard.”

“They need to catch up if they want to pass their O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts.” he closed the book and replaced it gesturing to her to follow him with the books. “I’ve only got 3 students that made it to N.E.W.Ts level from my predecessors. I can’t let them down like that.” He pulled out another Defensive book. Tonks smiled as his focus zeroed in on the book in his hand.

“Whats your goal?”

“My what?” He didn’t look up from the book.

“Your goal? How many students are you trying to get to N.E.W.Ts?” He didn’t look at her, but she noticed his eyes stopped scanning the page. “5? 10? Half?”

“All of them.” He stated

“Come on Professor, it's just you and me, who’s making the cut?” She leant in, “Dish.” She demanded. He finally broke his focus from the book meeting her eyes with a smirk.

“All of them.” He persisted

“Remus—”

“No,” he cut her off, “if I pick and choose the talented ones then I’m failing those who really need my help. So—” he leant in, “All of them, Nymphadora.” She reacted immediately taking the top book off the pile next to her and swinging it at the werewolf head. “Ouch!” He yelped when the book made contact.

“Don’t call me Nymphadora.” She scolded. He was still smiling though undercutting her stern tone. Madam Pince skulked around the corner probably hearing the commotion.

“I think we better head out.” Remus whispered, “Wouldn’t want you to get sent to the Headmasters office.” He was really enjoying toying with her. They checked out the books he picked and headed back to his office. The students they passed waved and greeted Lupin pleasantly. She remarked how he should run for governor of Hogwarts, earning a sly smile from him. She let him read through his books and prepare for his lessons in peace with the promise of shenanigans later. She read her study materials on the couch with the sounds of smooth jazz playing from his record player. A couple students stopped by for some academic help and she perked her head up to watch him interact with the students. She admired how passionate he was about helping these kids, she only wished she had a DADA professor who helped her. She had to work her ass off to make it to N.E.W.Ts and to get an acceptable grade for the Auror program.

She stood after a while.

“Tea?” She asked. Remus raised his hand in acknowledgement, which she took as a yes. She brought his cup to him, looking over his shoulder at his lesson plans. “Is this for your 4th years?” She asked,

“3rd.” He corrected her.

“Ahh. Harry’s year.” He nodded. “What does he call you during class?” Her signature inquisitive nature taking over.

“What?” He asked, remaining focused on his work.

“What does he call you? Remus? Moony? Dad? Pappa Professor?” She huffed in amusement. She saw a small smile play at his lips.

“He calls me Professor.” He answered simply

“But, but he’s your son.” She argued; Remus shrugged,

“He doesn’t call Sirius or I Dad.” Tonks thought on this a moment.

“He definitely has.” She remarked, “He did when we were kids sometimes.”

“Well growing up it would slip out, but Sirius and I never told him to call us dad.” He thought through when Harry would call them Dad, and how they would gently remind him that they were uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony. Tonks’ brow was stitched. She was compiling all the memories of Harry as a boy, and she found that Lupin was right he called them Padfoot and Moony almost exclusively.

“Why is that?” She didn’t consider that this might be a sensitive issue. “You guys raised him.” His body tensed and his voice was strained when he answered,

“You’re forgetting, his real dad was our best friend.” She knew she went too far, hit a nerve. A beat of silence fell allowing Tonks to feel properly ashamed.

“Well, whether he calls you dad or not, you’ve done a great job raising him.” His body relaxed and she could have sworn she saw him looking at her from the side of his eye. The tension dispersed; she squeezed his shoulder leaving him to his planning again.

The pair worked the afternoon in amicable silence. Remus worked out his lesson plans while Tonks studied. She didn’t want to think too hard on it, but she had been spending a lot of time with Remus recently. He distracted her, and she was finding she really liked his company. They were unlikely friends, but friends none the less. She had worked her way through most of her potions workbook by mid afternoon. She was working through a particularly annoying antidote when her book was snatched form her view.

“Okay who are we targeting today?” Remus’ boyish smile lifted her out of her study stupor.

“Well we got Snape two weeks in a row. I think we should lay off for a bit.” She reasoned.

“I guess,” he agreed, “Sprout?”

“Oh I could never,” Tonks sounded almost offended at his suggestion, “She’s too trusting and sweet, it's like pranking a kitten.” He chuckled at her reasoning,

“Ok then. How about Minerva?” Her eyes lit up at the suggestion,

“My Everest.” Tonks agreed. “How do we get her?” She asked the spark returning to her eyes. “Sirius told me about the laser charm to lure Mrs. Norris away. Could we use that?” He chuckled

“It only works on her when she’s a cat.” He explained. Tonks pouted.

“Well then what were you thinking?”

“What if we stash her pillow with cat nip?” Lupin proposed.

“No go. Charlie and I tried something similar our 6th year. She can smell it as a human and then you just get in trouble.” She explained

“Well what if we Charm her quills?”

“To do what?”

“Sign her name as Purrrfessor McGonagall.” Remus smiled at he sudden explosion of laughter.

“Thats brilliant.” She beamed at the professor, “We could also make it so when she writes her first name it changes to ‘meow-va’.”

“Purrrfect.” Remus responded, “I can lure her out of her office with a phony excuse about a student and you sneak in and charm the quills. The only trouble is she adds security charms to her door when she’s not in her office.”

“Way ahead of you. Charlie and I found a way to sneak in her office from the roof.” She stood and put on her gloves adding a sticking charm as she did. “Give me 10 minutes to make it to her office then floo her.” She instructed as she opened his office window and began to lift herself out by the ramparts.

“Tonks wait.” He reached out for her, “We can borrow a broom so you don’t fall off the side of the castle.”

“Your next class starts soon, there’s no time.” She reasoned, “Plus its more fun this way.” She winked as she pulled herself up onto the turret of his tower office. He leant out watching her scale the out side of the castle with her sticky gloves.

“You’re absolutely insane!” He yelled up to her.

“Ten minutes Professor.” Was all she yelled back, and then she was out of sight. Remus chuckled to himself waving is wand at his wrist watch to set a timer.

#nymphadora tonks #tonks #tonks and lupin #Remus Lupin #Remus John Lupin #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #andromeda tonks #prisoner of azkaban #Harry Potter #Nymphadora Lupin #professor lupin #hogwarts #REMUS AND NYMPHADORA #Nymphadora #Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks

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oh-obrien · 5 years ago

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Inscrutable {3}

Inscrutable: Impossible to Understand or Interpret

Masterlist

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski x Original Female Character

Word Count: 6,159 6,537

Warnings: Mentions of underaged drinking

Author’s Note: Part Three!!! Uhh some angst? Soft Stiles? I really like this part and I’m very excited for the next one!! Message me or send me an ask to be tagged!

THIS PART OF INSCRUTABLE HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH MORE CONTENT AND HAS ALSO BEEN EDITED MORE THROUGHLY!

Friday night rolled around, and Finley found herself bobbing her head along to the beat of her ‘Old Skool’ playlist, which was comprised of all the 80’s music her dad made them listen to growing up, while she Dutch braided her hair in the bathroom mirror. A knock came from the door that led into her suitemates’ room and she paused her music, “it’s open!” She called loud enough that they could hear her. Bailey, a midfielder for the lacrosse team, slipped into the bathroom, her makeup bag in her hand.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come tonight?” She asked while she pulled out her foundation and a makeup sponge. “It’s going to be an absolute blast! Beach party is one of the most looked forward to parties of the year!” Finley finished her left braid, made sure it looked okay in the mirror, and tied it off with a rubber band.

She looked over to Bailey who had just applied way too much foundation to her face, her neck and face were going to be two different colors but that was not any of Finley’s business. “I’m totally fine. I told you I have a project to work on for my Intro to Law class,” she reminded her suitemate.

Bailey pulled out her mascara and applied a heavy coat to her eyelashes. “Oh, right I forgot you mentioned that,” she fanned her hands in front of her eyes to help the mascara dry faster. Finley continued to section her hair for her right braid and carefully watched her hands work in the mirror. “With that boy, right?” Bailey asked.

“Stiles,” Finley reminded Bailey of his name and continued to tightly braid her hair, “he’s on the men’s club team actually.” She had just remembered they had the lacrosse connection, and she also knew that meant they would soon be seeing each other outside of their class and project meetings thanks to the mixed morning workouts the two teams had agreed to participate in.

“Oh right! We have a mixer with them two Saturdays from tomorrow.” Bailey told her. Finley hadn’t been much of the party type before she arrived at college. Mainly because she couldn’t get drunk, or even buzzed off of alcohol; a special strain of wolfsbane needed to be mixed in for her to feel anything other than sober at all. Being the designated driver had gotten old for both her and her brother very quickly. “Well, we have to call it a mixer,” Bailey pulled out white eye black and applied it to her nose, so it looked like sunscreen. “It’s a risky business party.”

Finley pulled her second rubber band off her wrist, “risky business?” She asked, slightly confused. “Like the movie?”

Bailey laughed after she finished coating her lips in ‘ruby red’ lipstick and smiled at herself in the mirror. “Yes! Like the movie!” She rolled her eyes and closed her make up bag. “It’s like you don’t know anything about college!” Finley rolled her own eyes in response before walking into the threshold of her room, grabbing the door handle with her hand.

“Have fun tonight, let me know if you’re going to be hungover in the morning. I’ll go out and get you and Kenna coffee,” Finley told her suitemate before closing her door that led to the bathroom. She was immediately enveloped in the warmth and comfort of her room, the orange scent from her diffuser relaxing her when she breathed in. The warm glow of the lights she had hanging along the top of her wall had her even more relaxed, some of the tension seeping out of her body. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, basking in the silence for the first time in nearly three weeks.

She had been working all summer before moving her brother in, traveling around the country, and to a few international locations with her dad. After an entire summer of traveling and trying to avoid getting killed, she wanted at least a few days to relax, but instead she had to move her brother and then herself into college. Taking a deep breath, Finley opened her eyes when she heard a knock on the bathroom door that led to her room.

“It’s open!” She groaned watching the handle twist before her other suitemate, Mckenna, walked in. She had on a pair of white, denim shorts, and a sunflower printed bikini top, a pair of sunglasses sitting on top of her head. “Please wear a coat or at least bring one,” Finley pinched the bridge of her nose.

Mckenna rolled her eyes and leaned on the frame of the door while Bailey pulled a pair of ‘lifeguard’ shorts over her red, ‘lifeguard’ one piece swimsuit. “It’s me you’re concerned about?” Mckenna laughed and motioned to Bailey who now had a hard lemonade can in her hand. “That’s her third, and it’s only seven.”

“I don’t want to be up early tomorrow because she’s throwing up,” Finley groaned and Mckenna stepped into her room closing the bathroom door behind her. Bailey and Mckenna thought that Finley was only a light sleeper, they didn’t know that when one of them was throwing up in the bathroom, Finley could both hear and smell everything.

“You say that like she won’t go home with a soccer or men’s player,” Mckenna laughed while she sat on top of one of the two desks in Finley’s room. “So, I wouldn’t be too worried about her waking up you or the boy you’re having over. Speaking of,” she swung her legs a little bit. “When’s he coming over?”

Finely looked at her watch, “ten minutes. If even,” she shrugged. “And he’s not staying over he has a girlfriend,” she added after the fact. She knew Stiles would most likely hang around as long as she let him, but she didn’t plan on trying anything with him. She didn’t know him well enough to pursue anything yet anyways.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mckenna waved her off while sliding off the desk. “We’ll be gone by eight at the latest, we’re going over to one of the senior’s apartments before heading over to the soccer house.” Mckenna opened the bathroom door and they both noticed that Bailey was trying, and failing, to braid her hair. “Let’s go Bails,” Mckenna threw a wink over her shoulder at Finley before leading Bailey back into their room, both doors separating the three closing behind the pair.

Finley let out a loud groan as she got up and locked the bathroom door from her side, making sure a drunk Bailey wouldn’t be able to barge in any time soon. She walked over to her dresser and untied her sweatpants, letting them fall to the floor while she dug around her in a drawer for a pair of shorts.

She couldn’t figure out why she felt so on edge, she wanted to rip someone’s head off and cry at the same time, a feeling she hadn’t felt since the last big blow up with her grandmother months prior. Sure, the full moon was that night, but she had been able to more than control herself for the event since she was six years old. That couldn’t be why her emotions were so volatile. She grabbed her phone and unlocked it, looking for when she was due for her next heat, and it wasn’t supposed to occur for another two months.

Stepping out of her sweats she pulled the black Nike pros up her legs and flattened the band across her stomach. Tucking the extra fabric from her long sleeve shirt into them before pulling a pair of cabin socks on her feet. Her room often got warm at night, even with the air on as cold as she could make it she would get too hot to wear sweatpants for more than a couple hours at a time. Walking over to her body length mirror she turned to the side and looked over herself for a few moments.

She had always been on both the taller and ‘curvier’ side, even when she had been younger. The body type ran in her family, even Cian was on the larger side of D1 quarterbacks. Since she had been running around the country, quite literally, most of the summer and began intense conditioning for lacrosse soon after, she had lost around fifteen pounds and started to gain more defined muscles. She wasn’t uncomfortable with how her body had been changing, but it had come as a shock when she weighed in at media day and noticed the drop in her weight. She did enjoy how her legs were becoming even more defined than they already were and her ass looked amazing.

She jumped when a knock sounded from her room door and walked over to open it. Stiles stood on the other side, his legs clad in a pair of maroon sweats that read ‘Beacon Hills Lacrosse’ and his top half covered in just a while tee shirt. “Hey!” She smiled opening the door wider so he could walk in.

“Hey,” he winced, in what looked like pain, while he dropped his backpack on her floor, “I am so sore.” He groaned, stretching his neck out. Finley watched as he bent down slowly to pull his water bottle out of his bag, holding his back while he did.

“Oh, right men’s started a couple days ago,” she laughed watching as he sat down on the edge of her bed. “We were watching you guys run suicides earlier between shotting drills,” she felt a smirk pull across her face when she saw Stiles look at her with his eyes narrowed. “Looked awful if you want my opinion, but I went through that at the beginning of the season, so I don’t feel bad per say. I just feel sympathetic.”

Finley considered taking some of his pain away, but she wasn’t sure how he would react if she did, or if he already knew about that aspect of being a werewolf. Instead, she pulled a chair over to her closet to stand on while she looked around her top shelf for her heating pad. She usually used it before her heats when she would start feeling the symptoms of it onsetting, but she also discovered it worked magic on humans when their muscles were tense or tight.

“Here, hang on,” Finley plugged it into her extension cord and turned it on to the high setting. “Sit back on the wall with this on your back.” She told him after handing him the heating pad. She watched Stiles give her an ‘I don’t believe you’ look while he settled himself against the wall, the heating pad on his lower back. She stood across the room, her arms crossed over her chest while she watched some of the tension wash out of his body, his shoulders dropping and his face relaxing.

Stiles opened his eyes to look at Finley, a smug smirk on her face. “It worked,” he smiled while he rested his head against the wall, still watching her. Finley walked across the room and sat down on her bed on the opposite send from stiles, her legs crossed while she unlocked her phone.

“I’m right sometimes,” she laughed while she pulled up a takeout menu. “So how does grilled cheese sound for dinner?” She held up the menu on her phone while Stiles turned his head to the side to watch her. That was when he noticed she had on glasses, he had never seen her wear them before. The frames complementing the shape of her face and their tortoiseshell print making her blue eyes pop.

“Grilled cheese?” He asked in slight amusement, “doesn’t sound much like take out, we could make that here if we wanted.” He spoke. Finley watched as his body relaxed even more and he sat up a little bit straighter, pulling his legs in so they crossed.

“It’s a place called GCDC and it’s a grilled cheese restaurant,” she handed him her phone that had the menu pulled up on it. “If nothing catches your eye, we can try somewhere else, but I am the one from around here y’know?” Watching Finley skeptically out of the corner of his eye Stiles took the menu and began looking it over.

A few minutes later Stiles handed her back her phone. “Okay so, maybe I was wrong,” he mumbled. “This place actually looks really good, and this heating pad is fucking magical,” he moved it further up his back. Finley noticed how much more his face had relaxed and smiled lightly, he looked cozy and warm. Mixed with the subtle scent of orange filling her room and the warm glow of her lights she found herself wanting to curl up next to him and take a nap. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Finley realized she would have to actually go see her dad in the morning and sit down and talk to him about her feelings, the last thing she wanted to do. However, she could not let her emotions get the best of her in this situation and understood that her dad tended to give good advice in the area of ‘werewolf dating and romance’, as much as she hated to admit it.

“Yeah, I know,” Finley mumbled not wanting to open her eyes and have to look at Stiles again, “and that was to both of your statements,” she added. “If you tell me what you want, I’ll call and order it,” Finley reached over to the desk that had been placed at the end of her bed and grabbed a post it and pencil.

Stiles reached out for her phone that still sat unlocked on her bed and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth while he scanned the menu again. “Would you recommend a grilled cheese or mac and cheese?” Stiles looked at Finley over the phone, his brows knit together trying to make the tough decision between the two.

“So how about this,” she bounced the pencil on her leg, “we each get a grilled cheese and then we can split a mac and cheese?” Finley suggested. “Because both are amazing and I’m actually pretty hungry tonight.” She shrugged, she had lost weight, she could eat a little more crap than she usually would. “So, four cheese mac and cheese,” she wrote it down.

Stiles looked back and forth between a couple options before settling on one. “And-” he dragged out the word while he tried to make up his mind. “I’ll get the Young American I guess,” he shrugged while he handed Finley’s phone back to her. “Which do you usually get?” He asked while she wrote his order down.

“I usually get the French Onion,” she also wrote down her order. “Uhh, I have soda and iced tea and shit in the fridge unless you want something else to drink.” She tried to think of what else they could possibly order from the restaurant. “Anything else you could think of that you would want from there?” Finley asked. Stiles shook his head, his hair that still looked slightly damp from his shower, flopping on his forehead. It was a cute look, especially with how relaxed he seemed, but Finley knew she needed to reign it in before she accidently said something she regretted. She had never been known to have the best brain to mouth filter and did not need it getting her in trouble with Stiles.

Stiles tried to settle more into the feeling of the heating pad relaxing the tense and sore muscles in his back while Finley finished writing down their orders. She set her pencil back down on her desk and held the post it between her teeth while she crawled off her bed, jumping down to the floor before padding over to her other desk.

Stiles knew it was wrong, and he knew he shouldn’t do it, but he found his eyes following her movements while she walked around her room. Her figure was illuminated by the warm glow of her lights and the two braids in her hair flowed down her back almost perfectly. He watched the muscles in her legs flex while she leaned up on her toes to put the post it of their orders up on the wall. The way her shorts fit left absolutely nothing to his imagination and Stiles found himself observing how they hugged her hips and ass perfectly.

Stiles rolled his back against the wall and tried to focus on something else while he listened to Finley call in their orders. He tried to will his mind to think about something other than walking up behind her and slipping his arms around her waist while she spoke, tracing his lips down the side of her neck. He tried to remember what Lydia’s lips felt like on his, what her arms around him felt like, but he just couldn’t. Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose before letting it out slowly through his lips; he was with Lydia, he loved Lydia.

On Monday after he had spoken to Lydia, for far too long in his opinion, Stiles found himself on the phone with Scott on the verge of an anxiety attack. He loved Lydia, he truly did, but some pieces just weren’t fitting together right anymore. Scott had managed to talk Stiles off a ledge and told him that if he waited two weeks until he and Lydia were traveling to D.C. to see one of Stiles’ first lacrosse games, he would help Stiles decide if breaking up with Lydia would be the best decision for him. He had hung up his phone after the conversation and found himself flopping back into his bed with an over exaggerated sigh that had his roommate asking if he felt okay.

“Stiles?” He opened his eyes to see Finley standing in front of him, concern and confusion written on her face. “It’ll be here in like fifteen minutes, but are you sure you’re okay?” She asked.

Stiles sat up a little bit and groaned when he felt his muscles tense up again, a sickening crack traveling down his back when he stretched it out. “I’m okay just, I need to get used to it again,” he sighed. “I’m sure you’d understand it.” He laughed and moved the heating pad down lower again.

Finley bit her lip while she looked at Stiles, of course she didn’t fully understand it, her muscles would heal almost immediately after she strained them at practice. She could clearly see how the soreness had affected Stiles though, and she wanted to help but didn’t want to risk exposing herself. “We could have rescheduled y’know?” She asked him.

“I’m perfectly fine. I just needed a few minutes to sit down,” he waved her off before standing up and going to pick up his backpack. “I’ve been looking at the case stuff and I have a couple ideas on who the suspect is, but I think we need the rest of the case information he’s giving us Monday to finish it.”

Finley stopped him from bending down with a hand on his shoulder and offered a soft smile. “It’s good I was thinking the same thing because you need physical rest and I need a mental break,” she spoke. “We can look at it again at lunch on Monday, okay?” She pushed Stiles’ bag next to hers with her foot.

“Sounds good to me,” Stiles walked back over to her bed and pushed himself up on the mattress, settling the heating pad on his back again. Finley offered him a sympathetic smile before she grabbed her wallet and ID.

She slipped on her Crocs before grabbing the handle of the door. “I’m gonna go grab the food, you just don’t hurt yourself,” she laughed lightly. Stiles went to push off the mattress and she reached a hand out to stop him. “Didn’t I say to like, stay there?” She asked, cocking her head to the side, a playful smirk pulling at her lips.

“I need to-”

“It’s on me this time,” she waved him off when Stiles gave her a look that said he wanted to protest, and she opened her door and started to step outside before he could say anything else. “I said it’s on me,” she repeated.

Stiles leaned his head back against the wall and watched Finley leave, her door shutting quietly behind her. Being left alone in Finley’s room felt slightly wrong, and his curiosity had him eager to look around, but he wasn’t sure if it would be rude. He closed his eyes again, trying to focus on the warmth spreading throughout his body, but he got too curious to stay focused on the pain that spread throughout his body. Stiles opened his eyes and looked around the room, he noticed that the wall her window was on had been covered in pictures and slowly pushed himself off the bed with a groan.

Slowly he shuffled across her soft rug, not wanting to lift his legs too much and hurt himself even more and paused in front of the wall of photos. He quickly scanned over the wall and noticed that most of them seemed to feature Finley and her friends at various sports games or school dances, even sleepovers and vacations.

He realized he had quite a few similar photos hanging up in his room and smiled a little bit, he could be a normal teenager sometimes apparently. Between fighting the supernatural, trying to actually finish high school and making sure no on in his pack actually died, Stiles hadn’t had much time to be a ‘normal’ teenager the last few years. He had hoped he would change that at college and be able to let go a little bit, so far that had proved to be true, but he just hoped the trend would continue.

Stiles found himself looking past most of the pictures from lacrosse games or prom and his eyes settled on one that hung right next to the window on its molding. A little girl posed in front of a tiger cage in the pictures, a boy who looks quite similar next to her, they both had Mickey Mouse ears on, and their faces were painted to look like tigers. Behind the two kids stood a man who Stiles noticed in a number of other photos, Finley’s dad he assumed, and a woman who seemed to be almost a splitting image of Finley.

“That was our last family vacation,” Finley held a paper bag in her hand and closed her bedroom door. Stiles jumped when he heard her voice and gasped, putting a hand over his heart and groaning in pain. “Sorry,” Finley laughed and sat the food down on her desk along with her wallet and ID, “couldn’t help it. I wanted to see if you would actually jump.”

She walked over to where Stiles stood and ran her fingers over the picture, smiling sadly while she did. “That was two weeks before she passed actually,” Finley mumbled, “at the Animal Kingdom,” she pointed to another photo. Her and her brother, along with their father, stood in the same location for the photo and still wore Mickey ears, but they looked significantly older. “And that one is from when we were sixteen, there’s others somewhere on here.” She motioned around the wall. “We go the same week every year.”

Finley turned and walked back to her desk where the food sat. “Sorry I was snooping around,” he spoke while walking over towards her. He hadn’t meant to look creepy while looking at her photos, he just wanted to get to know her better and his curiosity had gotten the best of him.

“Oh, I don’t care,” she ripped the staples out of the paper bag with her nails and dumped them into the garbage bag. “I don’t really have anything to hide, and besides they’re hanging up so it’s just asking people to look at them. If I did have something to hide,” she slid the three containers out of the bag along with some plastic forks and napkins, “I wouldn’t leave it out in the open.”

Finley bit her lip while sitting down on the floor and opening her mini fridge, of course she had things to hide, but nothing in her room. “Uhh,” she bent down to look in the fridge, “alcohol or non-alcohol for the drink?” Just because Finley couldn’t get drunk off normal alcohol didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy it. Also knowing that his kids couldn’t feel the effects alcohol provided to others, Maxwell often had no problems with providing his kids drinks.

“You have alcohol in here?” Stiles asked in slight disbelief. Finley turned around and looked up at him, slightly shocked that had been his reaction.

“Yeah, and my suitemates have a shit ton more,” she laughed pushing a few bottles and cans around in the fridge. “So?” she asked Stiles waiting for an answer.

She saw stiles sit down in her desk chair next to where she sat on the floor. “I mean if you’re offering, I’ll take one of whatever you’re having,” he shrugged. Finley smirked and pulled out a can and handed it to him.

“I don’t know if you’re a fan of hard coffee like I am,” she pushed a few more bottles and cans around. “If not, I have a couple different beers and uhh- a few different hard lemonades.” She looked up to Stiles who had set her coffee can on the desk.

“Uhh I guess whatever beer you have then,” Finley sighed and pulled two bottles out, a Corona and a Bud Light, shaking both bottles slightly to tell Stiles to pick. “Corona,” he said firmly, and Finley smirked, holding the bottle out towards him.

She slid the other back into the fridge and pulled a magnetic bottle opener off the side of her fridge and handed it to him. “My dad and brother drink Corona,” she said, “I actually don’t like beer honestly.”

Finley watched Stiles open the bottle and he set the cap on her desk before putting the bottle opener back where it belonged. She handed him his grilled cheese and the container of mac and cheese, “go get comfortable again,” she nodded towards the bed, “I can tell you’re still in pain and I want to pick a movie to watch.”

Finley watched Stiles walk back towards the bed and set both containers down before pushing himself up on to the mattress, his brows furrowing in pain while he did. Maybe when he wasn’t paying attention she could try and take away at least a little bit of his pain. “What kind of movies do you have?” She heard Stiles ask while she pulled a chair over to her closet. She stepped on to the chair and pulled a blue, plastic bin off the top shelf, stepping down with it in her hands.

“Umm it’s a lot of old movies really,” she thumbed through the DVD boxes. “All the Jurassic Park movies, that are out at least, The Godfather movies, The Notebook,” she snorted while she flipped past it, “oh all the Star Wars ones, Harry Potter, Scooby-Doo!” She pulled out the last box and flipped it over seeing it contained many of the classic seasons in the box set. “It’s up to you though,” she walked over to the bed and placed the box down, “you’re the guest.”

She watched Stiles flip through the movies she had before he paused on Star Wars, “I mean,” he held the box up, “it’s my favorite movie.” She saw him look closely at the box, “but I’ve also seen it like a million times,” he mumbled to himself.

Finley crossed her arms over her chest, “like I said. You’re the guest. You want to watch Star Wars,” she shrugged, “we watch Star Wars.” The Star Wars series had also been one of her favorites growing up. Cian claimed when he had been younger that one day, he would be a Jedi, eventually that dream shifted to working in law enforcement though.

“Yeah,” Stiles slid the box back into the same place he had pulled it out from. “But you looked really excited when you saw this,” he pulled out the Scooby-Doo box. Finley bit her bottom lip while he held it out to her with a wide smile. “They’re detectives, I mean with my FBI experience, I’m half a detective. So, it should be enjoyable.” Finley let her bottom lip fall from between her teeth and smiled as she grabbed the box from Stiles, going to put the DVD into the player.

Stiles smiled and watched Finley while she walked over to where her television and DVD player were placed on top of her dresser. As much as he had wanted to watch Star Wars, he saw how happy she had been when she found the Scooby-Doo box and figured it was the least he could do, especially when she had gotten dinner and invited him to her room. He took a sip of the beer that he held while watching Finley bend down to plug in the DVD player.

He quickly averted his eyes from her ass as she bent down and focused on the thin layer of white foam that had settled on top of his beer. He had to wait to make a move until he had broken up with Lydia, he couldn’t cheat on her, even if he knew he would be breaking up with her two weeks later. Instead, he opted to pull his phone out and text Scott while Finley fiddled with the DVD player.

“Scotty Boy, I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” he typed out the first message and sent it. “You know that wolfy thing where at first you can’t control when you turn? Yeah, that’s my hormones right now.” Stiles watched Finley tuck the DVD remote into the waistband of her shorts, if they could even be called that, before she picked up her own grilled cheese and hard coffee can.

Stiles felt his phone vibrate next to him while Finley set her food and can down on the bed. She pulled the DVD remote out of her shorts along with her phone from the other side, which she also set down on the bed. He looked over when he saw the screen on her phone light up and noticed that a notification for ‘Full Moon’ had popped up on her screen.

“You have two weeks man, and you just met her, can you really feel that drawn to her?” Scott had replied to his message. Stiles let out a loud sigh and Finley turned to look at him while she climbed into her bed, sitting down on the end opposite from Stiles.

“Well, someone sounds upset,” she laughed picking up the DVD remote and pressing play. Stiles didn’t answer for a moment and instead pulled his grilled cheese box closer to himself, opening it up before looking over to Finley who was still watching him.

He looked into her eyes and shrugged, “just Scott being Scott,” he quickly made up an excuse, “he’s actually with my ex-girlfriend and it’s a whole long story,” that should be a good enough cover.

“Oh damn,” Finley bit into her grilled cheese. “I’m sorry that must be rough,” she finished her thought. Stiles shrugged and took a bite of his own grilled cheese before trying to think of a proper response.

He swallowed the food in his mouth before continuing to speak, “actually it happened like naturally I guess, I can’t really be mad about it,” Stiles shrugged. “Besides, then I started dating Lydia and just life had gotten crazy, so I didn’t really have the time to complain about it and by the time I did I had already gotten over it.” Stiles picked up his phone and flipped it over again.

“Isn’t there guy code?” Finley asked. “Like whatever girl code is?” Stiles leaned over the end of the bed to set his beer down on the dresser next to it.

He shrugged, he wasn’t quite sure about guy code, and he hadn’t had the most conventional high school years to speak on it. “I mean, I’m sure there is,” he replied, “but me and Scott never really worried about I guess, petty stuff like that.” He watched Finley nod before she turned to look at the television. “Good luck with the full moon, by the way,” he sent Scott.

“I don’t know much about girl code either,” she looked back to Stiles, “so I don’t even really know why I asked,” he watched her look down at her lap, like she wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure if she should.

Stiles sighed before trying to think of something to continue the topic with, hoping to make her more comfortable around him. “I can also tell you that Scott made out with my current girlfriend once, well she kissed him,” he took another bite of his grilled cheese. “Now that I think about it,” he swallowed his food, “we have some weird little incestuous pit going on,” he laughed lightly.

“The football players and lacrosse girls at my school were like that,” Finley turned to face Stiles better and crossed her legs. “I can like make a whole confusing web of who dated who, and who cheated on who with someone else, and who hooked up with whoever and then started dating but had previously dated someone else. It’s confusing really,” she took a long sip of her drink.

Stiles shoved the last bite of his first half of grilled cheese into his mouth, “how’d you fit into that web?” He asked around his mouth full of food, wiping his hands on one of the napkins.

Finley rolled her eyes while sighing, “do you really want to know?” She asked him.

“I mean-” Stiles shrugged with a small smile, “I’m intrigued now. This seems like an absolute mess.” He hadn’t realized Scott had texted him until his phone vibrated against his leg, and he flipped it over to see a string of texts from Scott. Stiles, however, chose to ignore it; flipping the ringer on his phone off so it wouldn’t vibrate anymore.

Turning his attention back to Finley he watched as she fiddled nervously with the can in her hands, pressing indents into it where her fingers sat. “Uhh, well for starters I guess I have never dated anyone, never hooked up with anyone, never anything romantic with anyone,” he watched as a blush came over her face, traveling down her neck and past the collar of her shirt.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Stiles mumbled, feeling slightly guilty. Here he was, talking about all the girls he’d been with, which isn’t many, but still. He didn’t want Finley’s lack of experience to make her feel bad about herself.

Finley shrugged while she wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. “I had been really interested in one of the guys in our friend group, he played on the line for the football team,” she let out a long sigh. “But then he started dating this other girl, they broke up, he asked me to prom-”

“Oh, so that’s good!” Stiles interrupted. Finley gave him a tiny smile, but he noticed how her lips dropped back down into half a frown.

“Yeah, but then on the night of prom,” she balanced the coffee can on her sock covered feet, avoiding eye contact with Stiles. “He wound up getting back with his ex and prom sucked,” she sighed. She looked up to see Stiles pulling at the napkin in his hands. “And I just made it awkward,” she mumbled.

Stiles’ head shot up at her words. “No!” He cleared his throat. “No, you didn’t! I just-” he tried to find the right words. “I just feel bad, you seem so, kind and genuine, and- and you deserve to be happy,” he offered her a sad smile in return.

“I’ll find it eventually,” she mumbled, picking at the crust of her grilled cheese. She smelled the sympathy coming off Stiles, and she hated it. He felt bad for her, he just felt bad for her, he wasn’t actually interested in her, someone like him couldn’t be. She was also a supernatural freak, she bit the inside of her bottom lip, who would want to deal with that. She knew Stiles had before, but he and his were-ex hadn’t worked out.

After that a silence fell between the two of them, Finley picking at her grilled cheese while Stiles finished his. “I’m not really hungry anymore,” she pushed the mac and cheese container closer to him, “you can have it.” She saw that Stiles wanted to say something, but he hesitated. Instead, he slid their containers out of the way and set them on the dresser with his beer along with the napkins and forks.

“You really do deserve to be happy,” he said quietly, moving closer to Finley. She continued to chew on the inside of her lip to avoid crying and let out a long stream of air through her nose. “I’m serious,” he added. Finley set her drink on the desk and looked over to Stiles, her cheek resting on her knees while she did. His whiskey-colored eyes softened and he sighed, moving ever closer.

Finley felt his warmth from where she sat and wanted to move closer, it was like his natural body temperature was trying to pull her even closer. That and his scent had mellowed out, it turned sweeter, relaxing even, like cinnamon and freshly dried clothes. “Like I said,” she let her lip fall from between her teeth, “eventually.”

Stiles reached out and Finley didn’t protest, his arm wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her into him. She immediately felt most of the tension seep out of her boy when he pulled her into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. With the tension leaving her body and Stiles’ warm scent wrapping around her she couldn’t control her emotions and felt a few tears slip out of her eyes, dripping off the tip of her nose. “Hey,” Stiles said quietly, “I promise eventually it’ll all work out.”

“It’s fine,” Finley sat up and wiped her eyes, “I just- I let my emotions get the best of me and I just, don’t usually do that,” she stumbled over her words. Stiles leaned back against the headboard of her bed before grabbing her by the shoulder again and pulling her into him. This was wrong, so, so, wrong, Finley thought to herself, but she gave in. Resting her head against his bicep Finley sighed and felt her eyes slip closed, she couldn’t fight it and wasn’t quite sure why.

“You’ll be happy soon,” she heard Stiles mumble, “I promise.”

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #teen wolf #dylan obrien #dylan obrien imagine #teen wolf imagine #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles x oc #werewolf ofc #human stiles #anna writes

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soitmightgetweird · 5 years ago

Text

Drenched (Halloween fic)

Bucky x reader

Summary: an accidental prank at a party flips your entire night upside down

Warnings: swearing, as per usual

Word Count: ~3300

A/N: Holy fucknuts. It’s been a year and a half since I posted a fic. Damn guys. I dunno who the heck is still paying attention to little ol’ me, but here it is anyway. ((I’m working off a very old taglist, so let me know if you want to be removed. Also let me know if you want to be tagged. I mostly write for Steve and Buck, so you could request all tag or just one dude. Side question.. do Steve fics still happen?? I’m so out of the loop guys.))

Popcorn ceilings are good for collecting dust and giving you something to stare at when you’re bored. They’re not so good at showing you how to handle a conversation you don’t really want to have. After another little whine from your friend, you finally pull your eyes away to look toward the person sitting on the arm at the far end of the couch. She’s decked out in a gorgeous 1940s-style dress and her hair is delicately styled to match.

“I’m really not feeling like going to a party this year, Nat.”

She frowns. “But you love Halloween.”

“You’re right. But I just feel like turning on my little pumpkin lights and watching scary movies in the dark. I’m not really in a go-out-and-drink-around-a-bunch-of-strangers mood.”

“Not everyone will be strangers.”

“Well, work has been kicking my butt—”

“Honey, I know. You’re busting your ass for that company. But your friends miss you. Steve and Sam both ask how you’re doing all the time. Apparently your texts aren’t very… wordy.”

If it was anyone else in your apartment giving you sad eyes and practically begging you to be social, you’d be irritated. Nat has been the friend who’s helped pull you out of your funks for years. She knows just when to test the waters and when to back off. She’s able to read you insanely well.

The fact that she didn’t drop the conversation immediately means she knows you haven’t reached the burnt out point yet. Once that thought crosses your mind, you know you’ll end up going with her.

“I don’t have a costume,” you say in a resigned tone.

She smiles softly. “Just put on jeans and a hoodie. I’ve got a mask from Mr. Robot. Boom, simple.”

“Nerd.”

“Guilty. But hey, the party isn’t supposed to be that big.”

You level your stare at your friend. “Isn’t it at Stark’s?”

“Oh. Good point. Well, you can always tell me when you’ve had enough. I just want you to spend time with friends to help you recharge. You know work gets more tolerable when you have fun memories to occupy your mind.”

It’s hard to argue with Nat when she hits the nail on the head. “Alright,” you say as you roll off the couch with a faux-dramatic groan.

A few minutes later, you leave your room in your standard attire and slip into your Converse. Nat smiles again as she watches you turn on little accent lights in your living room before grabbing your keys and following her out the door.

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

The first thing you notice as you approach the building is the flashing lights, dancing through the sky and originating at the penthouse apartment, thirty stories above your head. You reach up and touch the mask that’s currently pushed up on top of your head.

“He really does go all out. Is this enough of a costume?” you ask.

Nat hooks her arm through yours as you close the distance between yourselves and your destination. “Of course. But honestly he doesn’t care; he just wants people to come and have fun.”

You fall into comfortable silence with your friend as you make your way through the lobby and into an elevator. As you climb, the cheesy elevator music is slowly drowned out by the sounds of the party.

The elevator doors open to a spacious modern penthouse that you’re sure looks a hundred times bigger when it’s not full of people. There’s fake spiderwebs with little plastic spiders on most surfaces—bookshelves, pictures on the walls, the stairwell to the second floor, the hanging lights in the entry. There’s a cauldron sitting on a high shelf, spilling fog from dry ice over the opening to the living room. Rubber bats are hanging from string, there’s a small witch with light-up eyes swinging around the room by the blades of a ceiling fan, a skeleton in sunglasses sprawled across the kitchen island and surrounded by snacks, and there’s a life-sized werewolf statue standing off to the side of the room.

You’re actually… not sure if it’s a statue or someone waiting for the opportune moment to scare everyone around them.

As you’re finishing your visual tour of the room, muscular arms drape over your and Nat’s shoulders. You turn your head to see another mask like the one that’s still on your head instead of pulled down over your face.

“Nice mask,” the person says, and even through the music and people you immediately recognize the voice as Steve.

You laugh. “Great minds I guess.”

“I just saw Wanda a little while ago, who knows where Tony is, Scott is desperately trying to Clint at beer pong, and Sam and Bucky are on the balcony.”

Your face scrunches a little before you’re able to stop it, an expression that Nat and Steve both notice.

“Haven’t warmed up to him yet?” Steve asks, and you’re sure there’s a small frown hidden behind his mask.

You sigh. You know Steve and Bucky have been friends since childhood. Nat has been friends with him since college. But you… no encounter with Bucky Barnes has ever been easy.

Nat was your first friend in the city—a chance meeting at a coffee shop near your apartment. A few months after you’d settled into your new home and job, she started inviting you to outings with her friends.

Steve became an immediately calming presence in your life. Sam offered charm and humor, Wanda was your go-to when you wanted music recommendations, Clint and Scott were the big brothers you never (secretly, always) wanted. Even Tony was fine. He was a little eccentric and sometimes flashy with money, but he had a good heart.

Bucky. You wanted to like Bucky. You did like him at first… for a few minutes.

He was charming too, all smiles and bright blue eyes when Nat introduced you. Over the course of the night though, you heard a lot of stories about his dating reputation and Bucky got way too drunk. Your night ended abruptly when you turned away from the bar and suddenly had beer all down your shirt and jeans.

And when Bucky said “watch it, asshole,” you marched back to the table and told the group you were going home. The night faded into the past, but that’s what started your dislike for Bucky Barnes.

It’s been five years and you still aren’t really “on board” with him. You’re civil enough when you’re around each other but you also won’t seek out conversation with him, even going so far as to direct most of your attention to your phone if you happen to end up seated near each other when you all go out to eat.

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

It occurs to you a couple hours into the party that you’re enjoying yourself and you’re glad Nat was a little insistent.

You spent a little while in the dining room watching Scott (dressed in a full Jedi robe) do relatively well at beer pong, but not as well as Clint, who was wearing a more modern version of a Robin Hood costume.

"No way in hell I’m wearing tights," he’d said as he sunk another ping pong ball in an orange cup.

Wanda was the next friend you found, in a grungy outfit that resembled Furiosa from Mad Max. You stood with her and Nat for a while, sharing updates on work projects and movies you’d all seen recently. Tony passed by in a long, fitted coat that accented his steampunk look. He even had a little gadget on his lapel made of gears that actually moved. He made it himself and was very proud of it.

You’ve been on the balcony for the past two hours talking to Nat and Steve when you notice your drink is empty. After asking your friends if they want anything, you decide to pull your mask over your face and head through the large glass doors into the living room. As you weave your way through the crowd you spot a large amount of people on one side of the room, so you veer a little to the left to walk through the foggy opening into the hallway.

Before you make it to the other side of the hall, you spot Sam leaning against the wall in front of you, next to the bottom of the stairs that climb up the wall to your left. He has a lazy smirk on his face, like he’s never been more comfortable in his life, just leaning against that wall.

You raise your hand to wave as you call out his name, hoping he can hear since your voice is slightly muffled by your mask. You then notice the speed in which the smile shifts into an expression of full-on panic before you’re suddenly doused in water.

Through the sound of the shouts from the people who were splashed near you, you hear Sam speaking your name and a different voice swearing above you.

You rip your mask away to see that Sam has his hands out toward you, a sincere look of apology on his face. When you turn and look up, you see Bucky. There’s an equally petrified look on his face and he swears again as you bolt for the stairs, Sam’s voice and footsteps following behind you.

Bucky runs through the second door on the left and almost has the door shut before you push through, the door crashing into his shoulder.

“Ow, hey, what the shit! I’m trying to get you a towel!” He grabs a towel out of the closet behind the door and shoves it at you before backing further into the bathroom.

“What the actual fuck, Barnes?” you yell, unzipping your hoodie and throwing it on the counter. It doesn’t make much difference, your shirt is soaked too, but that’s staying on.

“I thought you were Steve!” He has his hands out now, mirroring Sam’s earlier stance, but you’re pissed and you want to get in his face.

You feel a hand gently grab onto your arm as Sam tries to pull you away from his friend. “That’s entirely my fault. I was only paying attention to the mask.”

“Steve has a foot in height on me! And who the fuck drops a bucket of water in someone’s house?”

“We put a tarp down—”

“I was having fun!” Bucky’s still getting the full force of your yelling. “I’ve been stressed the fuck out and Nat convinced me to come out and now I’m fucking drenched—”

Sam says your name again.

You turn around. “Go get Nat please, I want to go home now.”

“Wait,” Bucky protests and Sam stops in the doorway. “Sam just… go enjoy the party, I’ll take her home.”

“Like hell you will.” You finally let go of half the towel and dry off your arms before wrapping the thing around your body, trapping your wet hair against your back.

“I mean to your home, smartass. I’m sorry we pranked you; it was an honest mistake. Let me… I dunno, let me buy you a coffee or something. You’re cold, it’ll warm you up.”

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

You keep three feet between you and Bucky as you walk back down the sidewalk toward your apartment. The silence is heavy and awkward, and you stare down at your shoes that squish quietly with every step. Your wet hoodie clings to your arms, sending a shiver down your spine. Unfortunately, the only two options are to wear a wet hoodie or leave your arms exposed to the chilly night air and you’re not sure which is worse.

Another chill hits you moments before a second hoodie is draped over your shoulders. You want to throw it back at him, but it’s already helping to shield you against the wind. At that thought, you glance sideways. Bucky’s arms are exposed now but he doesn’t seem to mind the chill.

Before you look away, he reaches up to rub his shoulder.

You huff out a breath. “Sorry I hit you with the door,” you mumble,

A couple beats of silence pass before he answers. “That doesn’t sound like a sincere apology, but I understand. Sorry again about the water.”

You respond with a grunt.

“Why do you hate me?”

You look at him again, your annoyed expression back on your face. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m just asking why you hate me? What did I do? Before the water.”

“First of all, you apparently have a habit of spilling things on me.”

“What?”

“Do you remember the night we met? You spilled an entire glass of beer on me.”

He stops walking. “Shit. That was you.”

You stopped a few paces in front of him and turned toward him. “Do you remember calling me an asshole right after?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “Why would I do that?”

“How should I know? But you did. You spilled beer on me then called me an asshole. And I left. Doesn’t really make a girl want to be your friend.” You turn around and start walking again only to realize after a few steps that he isn’t following you. “Are you coming or am I walking the rest of the way alone? Not that I care.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t call you an asshole?”

“You were also a little drunk that night, maybe you don’t remember.”

“No, I… yeah, I had a bit to drink. This girl I’d been seeing had broken things off and I was upset… we’d actually gotten kinda serious. But I didn’t talk about her much because... I dunno, maybe I didn't wanna jinx it. I was having fun distracting myself when they started making jokes about my dating life and I guess I tried to drown my sorrow instead of just talking about it.”

You just stare at him. That absolutely isn’t the response you expected.

“So I'd just got another beer and this dude bumped into me while trying to get some girl’s attention. I called the guy an asshole and was gonna apologize but you were gone. I guess that explains why you avoided even talking to me in passing after that night. Doesn’t really make a guy wanna be your friend.”

You just stare at him. Your dislike had been entirely based off a misunderstanding? “Great. I am an asshole." You turn away from him and continue walking toward your apartment.

"Hey wait, you're not--"

His footsteps sound as he catches up to you. He reaches out and touches your elbow to get you to look at him, pulling his hand away quickly. Physical contact is entirely foreign for you two.

"Can we just forget that night? I mean you can forget about this one too if you want, but I genuinely am sorry. It always kinda bummed me out that you didn't like me--you seemed pretty cool based on all the stories I heard from Steve and Sam."

You frown. "That almost makes me feel worse."

"Please don't. I could've tried to fix things too."

The silence that follows isn't quite as uncomfortable but you still break it shortly after you start walking again.

"I am actually sorry I hit your shoulder. Even when I thought you didn't like me, I would've never intentionally struck you."

He reaches up again to rub his shoulder. There's a smirk on his face as he drops his hand and lifts that shoulder in a small shrug. "I kinda deserved it."

"Maybe. About that coffee though. Just... your hoodie's wet now and I'm not going into a cafe in these clothes. I can just throw this in the dryer and make a pot of coffee. If you want."

Bucky laughs. "I want to make a joke about you inviting me over after dark, but I'll spare it since we're only just now becoming friends."

"Are we becoming friends?"

Bucky turns a worried expression toward you, as if he's scared he pushed too far. When you return a small laugh with a shake of your head, he smiles too.

"You basically said the joke by referencing the joke. But I'll give you a pass this time."

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

You're hyper aware of Bucky's presence as you ride the elevator to the fifth floor together and even more so as you're unlocking your front door and allowing a person into your apartment you never expected to invite over.

"I like your decorations," Bucky says from behind you.

You turn to see him looking at the mantle over your fireplace. There are fake webs and little cheese-cloth ghosts in jars on one side and sparkly black and purple pumpkins next to a little figure of a bird dressed as a witch on the other.

"Thanks. Um... I'm gonna go change and throw this in the dryer. Be right back."

The nerves that arise when you're changing are completely unwelcome. Do you need to put on actual clothes or is leggings and a sweatshirt alright? What do you talk about while you're waiting on his hoodie to dry? What if it's just awkward silence?

You stop mid-movement when you realize you've had those thoughts... before you went on dates.

Nope.

You pull a leggings and a blissfully dry sweatshirt on and walk out of your room, throwing all the wet clothes in the dryer together on the way back to the living room. When you walk in the room, Bucky's crouched in front of the tv, going through the stack of movies you set out a couple days ago. He stops shuffling the cases and holds up your copy of Tucker & Dale vs. Evil with a very serious expression on his face.

"You... have excellent taste in movies."

"Jeez, I thought you were about to lecture me. We can watch it while we wait on the dryer if you want. I'll go start coffee."

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

The next morning, you wake up wondering why your neck hurts. Opening one eye, you squint through the sunlight and are met with the sight of your living room. Well, sleeping on the couch explains the neck pain. With a yawn, you stretch your legs and nudge a solid mass on the other end of the couch. Bucky is still there, his socked feet propped on your coffee table and his head resting against the back of the couch.

You nudge him again and he stirs. Then he starts and sits up straight.

"Shit. I'm sorry, I dozed off. Oh... it's morning."

"It is.”

"I um... I guess I'll take my hoodie and go?"

"More coffee."

He chuckles, the sound deep and warm. "Trying to keep me here?"

You put your head back down. "Trying to get you to make coffee."

After you’ve both had two cups of coffee—you’re choosing not to think too much about the fact that he apparently remembered exactly how you like your drink because the first cup he handed you was absolutely perfect—you walk back into the living room with Bucky’s hoodie, holding it out as he finishes slipping on his shoes.

“Oh, it’s warm,” she says with a grin, slipping the garment on and immediately zipping it up.

“It’s chilly outside and despite what you may think, I am actually nice to friends.”

“Oooo, we’re friends. You said it, no take-backsies.”

You laugh. “Well, you do make a decent cup of coffee.”

“You’re right, I do. I’ll get out of your hair now, though. And next time we all go to dinner, you have to actually talk to me. No more cold shoulder?”

He’s standing at the door, hand on the doorknob and ready to leave when he asks the question. There’s an easy smile on his face, but you still see a trace of that same worried expression.

“No more cold shoulder,” you agree. “You don’t have a long walk, do you?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. S’only two blocks. See you around.”

And with that, he opens the door and leaves your apartment, casting one more look over his shoulder to smile as he walks down the hallway.

The realization that you also have a goofy smirk on your face as you walk toward your bedroom stops you momentarily, along with the thought that his presence is already something you know you want more of.

Well shit.

Tags: @stanevansalways19 @scarlettsoldier @feelmyroarrrr @shakzer00 @pixierox101 @chrevastan @aubzylynn

Bucky only tag: @nerdyandproud9

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot

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valkyrieofthehighfae · 4 years ago

Text

I Lose Myself In You chapter 1

GIF credit goes to anotherficwriter Juice Ortiz X Original Female Character

Description: Danica Reid is the princess of the Fae Court of Stars. She has to flee her kingdom as the Blood Court attacks, fending off a werewolf and his Fae commander in a vicious attack, leaving her wounded and angry. Her soulmate rescues her in the nick of time and now Danica has to learn how to cope with the loss of her people, her newfound relationship, and band together with four other displaced Fae women to try and take her kingdom back from those who want her dead. Word Count: 1999 Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of death, (not so much a warning): soulmate AU, canon divergence A/N: This is definitely major canon divergence, so if you’re not into that or you don’t dig AU’s, please feel free to move along! :) Join my taglist!

Blood wept down my face from deep gashes that burned and ached, the blood leaving thin golden trails over my left eye and down my cheek, dripping onto the remains of my shredded tank top. The werewolf that had been hunting me since the Witchwood of the Faelands and out into the mortal realm raised his malformed hand to his muzzle, licking the glittery gold blood from his twisted, gnarly claws, a low growl reverberating in the back of his throat. He was studying me, watching my every move to try and find an opening to jump back in and add to the damage he’d already caused. I was swaying in place, woozy from blood loss, but I couldn’t let my guard down, even for a moment.

“Heel boy, heel.” A silvery voice came from the shadows behind the wolf, another Fae stepping out onto the asphalt of the road we were on. He had a vicious smirk on his face as he called off his minion, his sharp, angular features displaying a sadistic glee that I only ever saw those of the Blood Court project. I’d never seen anyone like him before though; his left eye was sealed shut, old scars keeping it that way, while his other bright crimson eye gleamed with a malice that sent a quiver through me. His midnight black hair was neat, worn back in a ponytail with fine wisps of hair framing his pointed face and a pair of rotting wings that reminded me of mud flared out behind him, bones peaking out from between bits of flesh hanging off the frame of the wings. And he was tall, much taller than most Fae males, towering over me even from ten feet away. I shuddered again, wanting nothing more than to get as far away from him as possible.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the princess of the Star Court. Oh, I’m sorry, I guess I mean Queen,” He mockingly bowed with a maniacal grin on his face. “Please excuse me, Your Majesty, I’m afraid you don’t have much of a court to rule over anymore. You’re welcome for that, by the way.” He was clearly pleased with his role in wiping out my family and our people. “There’s quite a handsome reward for bringing you in. My Queen and King will be pleased to see you back in their clutches.”

I watched as he stalked forward, a large dragon bone and obsidian dagger held loosely in his long, thin hand, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. Even from here I could tell that it was razor sharp and if I let him near me with that thing, he’d slice me into ribbons. I’d have to be smart about this; I was already bleeding pretty heavily from my face and torso, deep slashes in my chest, across my belly and dug into my ribs.

“Eat me.” I spat at him, the glob of spittle and blood hitting him in the face and sliding down his cheek onto the lapel of his bright red suit. His smile quickly went sour upon seeing my will to fight was still strong, even after being chased for who knows how long and got my ass kicked ten ways to next week. His anger was going to, hopefully, be his downfall. I just had to make sure I was quicker than he was.

“Tempting really, I’m sure your blood would be sweet and chock full of fear, but alas, I need you somewhat alive to bring back to the Blood Court.” He kept his voice light and breezy, throwing himself towards me, dagger poised to strike. I dove out of the way, hitting the ground and rolling away, gasping in pain as rocks and dirt lodged themselves in my gaping wounds. Moving quicker than I anticipated, he swung down again, the dagger slicing through the back of my shirt like a hot knife through butter, splitting the skin of my spine like it was nothing. More golden blood dripped into the road, the drops and small puddles glimmering in the light of the full moon and I found myself unable to get up, breathing hard against the pain.

“What a shame, I was expecting more of a fight with that attitude of yours.” He laughed loudly, coming closer so he could land a solid kick in my ribs, the force of the kick knocking the wind out of me. He kicked me again, and again, toying with me, taunting me, laughing at how helpless he thought I was. Letting out a pained grunt, I managed to catch his foot as he swung it for another kick, pulling him down to the ground with me.

“Fuck you and fuck the horse you rode in on.” I panted, pushing myself up and started punching down into his face repeatedly, his nose crunching under my fist, his thin lips splitting with each hit I got in. He growled, struggling under me, and managed to get his arm up, thrusting the dagger forward into my left shoulder, twisting it viciously. I shrieked loudly, white hot fire blazing through my entire arm as he continued to twist the dagger around maliciously.

“Fucking bitch!” He was screeching in my ear, fighting back hard to try and get out from under me. He reached up with sharp talons, digging into the gashes on my face left by his precious pet, making sure to dig deeper into my skin while fangs sank into the junction of my neck and right shoulder, digging in as hard as he could. I grabbed hold of his ear, yanking down as hard as possible, getting satisfaction of feeling the skin give way under the pressure of my pulling down. He let go of my shoulder, screaming loudly, his fingers digging in deeper to my face, black blood covering my fingers from his ear. I let go long enough to get the dagger out of my shoulder and attacked his wings with his own weapon, sawing through flesh, muscle, and bone, and tore the appendages from his back.

I couldn’t tell our screams apart anymore, my hearing quickly becoming just a constant ringing, our blood mingling as we scrapped, trying to one up the other person. He was on top of me, talons digging into my throat as he pressed them into my windpipe, effectively strangling me. Darkness began to pull at the edges of my vision, dizziness threatening to pull me down into its depths, when bright lights managed to catch our attention. While he was distracted, I was able to rip his hands off my throat and kick him off of me towards the oncoming lights. I gasped for air as I crawled away, my brain thankful for the sudden onslaught of oxygen I was able to get in.

By this point his pet had fled, abandoning him to whatever fate lay in store for him, which I found rather humorous. “So much for loyalty.” I half laughed, half wheezed, blood bubbling up in my mouth as I lay there on my back, threatening to choke me. As he lunged at me with a crazed look on his face, the car that had been heading our way slammed full force into him, sending him flying into the woods nearby.

“I win.” I managed to gurgle before darkness took me in its hungry grasp, pulling me down into its depths.

~*~*~

Pain was the first thing I felt when I started to regain consciousness, my entire body screaming in agony as I shifted a little so I could try to lift my head to look around and see where the hell I was.

“Shit! Hey, whoa, don’t move.”

I knew that voice; he was my mate’s friend, or one of them anyway. I managed to open my eyes, my left covered with bandages, and saw the blonde, Jax I believed his name was, sitting next to my bed in a chair.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re safe now. This is a safe place. I’ll be right back, just stay put and don’t try to move.” His voice was calm, soothing almost, and he got to his feet so he could go do something. I took a deep breath, making a slight face at the sterile smell surrounding me, and laid there quietly to wait and see what was happening. I could hear voices coming towards the room and I whimpered a little bit, hurting badly. “Ivar, Tara, she’s up and needs pain meds. She was crying out in her sleep. Can you hook her up with anything?”

I could see Jax speaking softly with a Fae male and a human woman, their faces grim as they were speaking. Another human male came over and sat on the bed with me, careful to not jostle me in anyway, his hand gently resting on mine. He had his hair styled in a mohawk with tribal tattoos flanking it and these beautifully rich, deep chocolatey eyes that were full of concern and relief.

“You’re finally awake,” His voice was soft, kind, and the sound of it immediately comforted me. “Ivar didn’t think you were gonna wake up anytime soon.” His other hand went up to tenderly smooth my hair back out of my face, the gesture a kind one.

“Can I have some water please?” My voice was just barely above a whisper, my throat raw and angry from screaming.

“Yeah, I’ll go get you a cup. Be right back.” He carefully got up and left while this Ivar and the woman came over with some medical equipment.

“Your Highness, I’m Ivar of the Court of Ashes. My mate, Tara, and I are going to get you hooked up to a few IVs so you can get pain medication and rest.” Ivars’ voice was mildly hoarse, a trait of Ashen Fae, and he got to work finding a vein to insert a needle into. I cried out again as they worked and Tara quietly apologized, not wanting to actually hurt me.

“Getting up is going to be next to impossible for a few days, so I’m going to have to insert a catheter, okay? I’ll wait until you’re a little more numb from the medication. Jax, can you keep Juice out of here while I do this please?” Tara kept her voice even and calm and Jax nodded, following Ivar out of the room while Tara got things together to give me this catheter thing. “This is going to be uncomfortable and I am so sorry, I know you’ve already been through enough tonight and I’m honestly not trying to add anymore discomfort to what you’re already experiencing.” She continued as she carefully moved my legs so she could get up in there. Tears ran down my cheeks as she worked and the moment she was done, she poked her head out the door to let them know it was good to come in. Juice was immediately by my side again, sitting carefully so he wouldn’t jostle my IV lines or any of my body parts, and tenderly wiped my tears away with a tissue, pain on his face as he took in my battered and bruised up appearance.

“I’m staying here tonight with her. I wasn’t there to protect her from that son of a bitch and I’m not letting that happen again.” Juice told Ivar and Tara, his voice firm and defiant. The pair looked at one another, neither of them willing to argue with my mate about whether or not he could stay.

“It’s cool man. I’ll let Clay know what’s going on, don’t worry about coming in tomorrow.” Jax clapped Juice on the shoulder and said his goodbyes. Ivar and Tara followed behind, quietly shutting the door behind them leaving Juice and I alone. I yawned, the pain medication slapping me square across the face, my eyelids growing heavy as sleep pulled me back beneath the waves all over again.

#Juice Ortiz X OFC #Danica Reid #High Fae oc #Sons of anarchy fic #Juice Ortiz #fanfic #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy #Jax Teller #Tara Knowles #Male High Fae OC #bit of violence #soulmate au

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mousart · 5 years ago

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Sketchbook 2019 Fall 2019, some friends and I were tasked with writing a horror story based on individually given prompts. These prompts were generated by us picking a bunch of numbers and the host has some sort of weird spreadhseet they used. Anyhow, here was my prompt

The protagonist is a disgraced paladin trying to use the legendary philosopher's stone to destroy an unethical biotech corporation. However, a sapient horse seeking to achieve immortality stands in their way. Their quest has taken them to a crumbling gothic mansion in the middle of nowhere, and everything about it feels dreadfully off in a way they can't describe. You must write the protagonist having a conversation with an ally.

Clop “GNNRRAG!H” “It really is true what they say,” “Stop it!” Crash “Shut up!” Wham! “When all you got is a hammer,” “Shutupshutupshutupshutup!” Whack Whack Thwack Crack! “Every problem looks like a fail!” “STOP USING THEIR VOICE!” The grey rotting walls had been turned to splinters, the creaking hardwood floor a spotted mess of shattered wood. The only sound was remnants of a damaged home settling from assault, and Lakshmi’s breathing. Each breath haggard and dead in the air as her eyes glowed hot white as she wildly swiveled her head. This old dusty hall seemed endless and amongst the abandoned pedestals of books in impressive glass displays, she could not remember the last time she had seen an exit. Her smooth long dark purple tail was stiff in the air as she crouched on the balls of her feet. The room was so still. The world was so still. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. The rhythmic trotting sound didn’t stop. It echoed and reverberated when nothing else did. Where was it. Where was the beast that made her blood frigid? “Sh-Show yourself you monster!” Lakshmi shouted. “What a joke! What kinda rogue would I be if I went around showing people who I was?” “Stop! Stop Using their voice!” Lakshmi screamed, every muscle in her body seemed to be tensing all at once. The grip on her hammer and shield so tight, underneath her gauntlets her knuckles were a pale magenta, tight against her skin. “I’m only usin’ the words they know, sweetheart. Ain’t you more comfortable? It’s just us, pal! Just you n’ me!” Lakshmei refrained from spitting a reply. “What did you do to them!?” Lakshmei screamed again, continuing to scan the area. But her action was in vain. Before her and behind her stretched nothing but dark lonely hall. She knew that she couldn’t stand here forever. It was exactly what she would never do. Slowly. Stiffly. She took her first step. Forward? Maybe. It’s funny. How did she even get here? In the middle of this hall?

“This is it. Spook central, population: zilch,” Carry-On said, scratching the craggy landscape with their bare toes . “What could those people need in a place like this?” Lakshmi muttered as she tapped her claw against her lower lip. “Yeah, all the money in the world and they wanna get their crummy mitts on this dump?” Carry-On sniffed and spat on the old wooden steps that led up to the aged porch. The pair stood before a mansion that was shaped like an abandoned dream of grandeur, left to languish in obscurity after neglect and regret. This was the next clue in Lakshmi’s sole crusade against the DNAlchemy Corporation and every step she took in that journey pained her spirit as much as it invigorated her. “I don’t have a doubt in my mind that the researcher that lived here was working on the stone!” Lakshmi said with a raised fist. “Ya know sweetheart, maybe outta consider havin’ more doubts,” Carry-On said with a cheeky grin. But Lakshmi ignored this and started making her way to the mansion door. Carry-On’s pupils shrank and swiftly clapped their paw on Lakshmi’s pauldron. She stopped immediately and turned to see Carry-On’s quivering muzzle and grimace of anxiety. “What’s the meaning of this…?” Lakshmi asked patiently, foot slowly tapping on one of the porch steps. “Hey pal, maybe we oughta, like, take it easy with this one. Be all caution-like, ya know?” “Carry-On, I have never known you to avoid stepping in. Anywhere.” Lakshmi said with a deadpan only an old friend could convey. “You have never met a premises you wouldn’t hesitate to trespass.” “Ain’t got proof a’ that,” Carry-On lied. “I’mma legitimate rogue, ya know!” “Changing the subject will not stop me. What’s wrong?” Lakshmi said as her eyes narrowed. She stared straight into Carry-On’s big silver eyes that seemed to shiver under gaze. Carry-On had to flinch. “It’s.. I can smell it,” Carry-On said as their big black wet nose twitched. “It’s beat us here…I can smell it…” Lakshmi’s eyes widened. She knew what Carry-On meant. The beast was here. The beast that escaped from that village they had tried to save. The village was saved, but not by them. Not directly. But the girl who did most of the work would never be the same. That girl was banished. And for her aide, so was Lakshmi, but from something much greater than the village. Would she ever again be able to kneel before the order again? And raise her hammer in righteous glory for the honor of good deeds and the smiteing of wrong action? Would she ever see the swelling pride of her grand cardinal and award her a parish for her distributing justice? Not while the beast was out there. “Then we have to go in!” Lakshmi finally shouted. “We don’t have a choice anymore!” Carry-On’s fluffy tail stiffened right up as they put both paws on Lakshmi’s shoulders. “We can’t go in there! You’re scared outta freakin’ mind out here!” “Don’t you dare project on me!” “I ain’t projettin’ nothin’! After all the otha’ times I know ya’ scared!” “Then let me face my fear in defiance of that creature!” They breathed heavily, staring dead eyed at each other as they got their frustrations out. Then they both slouched and turned to face the mansion. Lakshmi drew her hammer, hanging it from her hand by its strap. Its handle was short but its head was huge and square like a sledgehammer. Carry-On loosened the buttons on their vest and started subbing their claws against it. “I’m wit’ ya, but I don’t like it,” Carry-On said with a resigned grin. “You never do,” Lakshmi said, not at all matching the smile and instead marching straight to the mansion door. “Yeah, I’m a real pal like that. Maybe more than you,” Carry-On grunted sarcastically as they brought up the rear. The front door wasn’t much to look at, it almost stood out in how unmarred it was. Lakshmi reached to open it, but as though it had read her thoughts, it turned inward and opened its maw to a purple grey foyer. Before them was a double staircase, half of it rotted into a massive hole that hopefully led to the basement. The other side was just a little rickety and blanketed with cobwebs and dust. Which could be said for the high ceiling with its cracked hanging chandelier, the balcony that surrounded the upstairs like a cage, and the doors that presumably led to whatever else this house had to offer. It was a surprise it had any illumination at all, but the windows weren’t boarded up or shuttered. This fact was the only reason why they could tell the walls were lined wall-to-wall with books. Thousands upon thousands of them, as though the building was made to house them rather than people. “Nerd den,” Carry-On muttered as they ventured into the house. “Only nerds would research the stone,” Lakshmi replied with a shrug. Once the two were fully in the house, the door behind them suddenly slammed. The two didn’t flinch. They just looked back at the door and then back at each other. “Real cliche,” Lakshmi said with the contempt of a literary snob. “I could write a betta’ movie than this,” Carry-On agreed. Nnnneeeiiighghhrrrr In an instant Lakshmi and Carry-On were in each other’s arms, looking around the room. “It’s here… truly here…” Lakshmi said trying very hard not to shake as her heart was trying to escape her throat. “I toldjya I toldjya!” Carry-On barked back with their tail between their legs. Clop Clop Clop Clop “It’s moving,” Lakhsmi said. The pair let go of each other and Lakshmi skillfully twirled the hammer around her wrist and gripped its handle tight. “We have to find it!” “The Thing or tha’ papers ‘bout this crummy-ass stone?” Carry-On said with a shudder. “One will lead to the other,” Lakshmi said. “And the Philosopher’s Stone is not “crummy-ass”.” she added with a huff. “It’s gotta be if the DNAss Corp and the… Thing, want it…” “If the legends are true then power granted by the Philosopher’s Stone would be catastrophic to all!” Whiiiiiiiiiinrnrnrnnnrnn The call echoed through the house soundlessly. Lakshmi and Carry-On froze again. “Why is it freakin’ doin’ that,” Carry-On asked in a hushed whine. “Maybe it hears us. Maybe it is close to the knowledge of the stone. Either way, we cannot dally. We can smite this wrong together!” Lakshmi replied with her voice vibrating as she couldn’t get the creature’s noise from repeating in her head. “Spoken like a true pal.” There was no indication of life had dwelled here in decades. Which meant that DNAlchemy hadn’t raided the building yet. But it wouldn’t be long. They had scanned the walls of books in the foyer but there was nothing of interest. It was an extremely well maintained library of possibly every book on the subject of every element on the periodic table of elements. The second floor of the foyer was walls of books about alchemy. It was all very academic, very boring, every book seemed to look like a textbook or research paper from who knows when. What was not boring was the layers upon layers of dust. What was very clear was how undisturbed this house was. It was very still, save for the occasional insect and the breeze coming in from the more damaged windows. No people in a long time. No signs of the creature either. But it was definitely here. There was no way it wasn’t. It had to be. That’s what Lakshmi thought as she scanned the books. She was lucky she could focus at all on this detective work when it was in there with them. Somewhere. But she couldn't’ dwell. She had to keep the faith. The faith that would guide her to smiting wrong action. It was what she had left after the excommunication. It was so frustrating how the order couldn’t see her fulfilling her duty as one of their active practitioners. All they saw was a big mistake that saved a village, and then wrong action against no action at all. It was wrong to preemptively strike. That was true, Lakshmi knew that and believed that in her core. But what does one do when you find plans and schemes? When the machinations come from a company? And no direct action can be found? When there’s no clear persons to stop? Answers her cardinals couldn’t give her. Why did she help that girl? Well the why was obvious. The town was being attacked. Her name was Deb. She was lanky, maybe 17, wore strange old-fashioned clothing from another world, and had markings around and under her eyes. But those markings weren’t there when they first met. Lakshmi could see her clear as day, an almost blank dreamy expression but there was more going on behind those eyes. Deb smiled. Lakshmi jumped with a sharp intake of breath, squeezing her battlehammer. What was she doing here? Where did she come from? “D… Deborah Castman?” Lakshmi said slowly, grip on her hammer loosening. Deb tilted her head to the side and smiled wider. “What are you.. How did you get here?” “Sumthin’ tha matta’?” Carry-On called from the other side of the upper foyer. “It’s The girl from the village! It’s Deb, she’s here!” “What? What’re you talkin’ about, I don’t smel-,” Deb had run off towards the stairs. Lakshmi gave chase. “What’s goin’ on? Whaddaya doin’!?” And Carry-On gave chase as well. Deb glided down the stairs and made her way into a side hall and Lakshmi was desperately right on her. She followed Deb straight through and the door slammed behind her. There was a low thud and sudden “oof”. Lakshmi stopped and looked back to see the shut door and she ran back to it. She pulled on the handle and shook it back and forth, the door rattling as she tried. It wouldn’t budge. “What’s the big idea? Lemmie in!” Carry-On shouted as they banged on the door. “You think I’m not trying?” Lakshi retorted as she slammed on the door with her gauntlet. What was it made of? It should have been regular old wood, right? Clop Clop Clop. Clop. “OPEN THE FREAKIN’ DOOR! IT’S HERE” Carry-On shrieked, slams on the door becoming more and more desperate. “NO! NO!” Lakshmi wailed as she raised her hammer and bludgeoned the door’s handle with a loud CLANKS. Tearing it down one massive chunk at a time. All the while Carry-On still banging on that door. “Get away! GET AWAY FROM ME YA FREAK! GET OUTTAAAUG-.” Silence. Lakshmi raised her hammer above her head and didn’t hesitate. Saving the one from the wrongs of the other. Right Action. “Light The Path To Wrongs. Benthandorf Unleash Right!” Lakshmi called to the god of her order. The order didn’t believe in her. But she didn’t need them to do this. Her faith was strong and she could feel it in the glow of her hand and hammer as she brought it down and the door blew clear forward off its hinges. The door soared and landed into a darkened hall with no window light to guide the way. Lakshmi rushed in. Right over the ruins of the door she destroyed. Stomping past doors and books. Breathing. Searching. Where. Where? Her eyes glowed white. The dark was no problem for demons like her. She could see the way but not what she was searching for. The hall seemed to keep going. And… Wasn’t this supposed to be the foyer? She slowed down as the thought dawned on her. Where was she? Where was- Deb? Deb was standing before Lakshmi again, the strange kid seemingly unaffected by the dark. Then she heard a voice. And she knew that voice. But didn’t know where it came from. “Sweetheart!” “Carry-On?” Lakshmi shouted into the ceiling. Where had the voice come from? “You’re gettin’ cold. N’ warm at the same time. Lemmie see if you rememba’ this.” Clop Clop Clop Clop Lakshmi stopped breathing. “You.” She said. “That’s right, pal!” “D-don’t call me that. Y-yyou havve no privilege to call me that!” Lakshmi screeched. “Whateva’ ya say, sweetheart.” Then the thing laughed. But it wasn’t Carry-On’s laugh. It was a huffed snort. Brugh Brugh Brugh Not the voice of a human. Not the voice of a werewolf. “Nice ta’ see you both drop by. I actually needed a pair a’ hands to help me out. Ain’t easy goin’ through secret labs when ya’ shaped like I am.” “Happy to be of service,” Lakshmi said through gritted teeth. She was a little calmer now. This meant that Carry-On was still alive somewhere “It is my duty to serve.” “Oh and I thought this hairy thing I got was the sarcastic one, but you got some bite. Speakin’ a which.” Clop Lakshmi turned around and faced Deb again, who had her blank smile. “This chick from the village where we first met. Oh the things you helped her do. Bet ya’ Benthandorfians didn’t like that. Tsk tsk tsk. Ameteur sealing magic like that? With a minor? How could ya do such a thing! With you supposed to be upholdin’ them rules n’ all?” “What choice did we have? Your creator’s monster was unstoppable in short notice!” Lakshmi cried, burning with the memory. Why did she help the girl why didn’t she just wait? Or find backup? Why that choice of all others? “Now her people’s thrown her out. Who knows when that thing will come outta her again n’ rampage? You could have a real chickzilla on ya hands at any time. N’ it’d be all. Your. Fault. Some pal you turned out to be.” “Shut up!” Lakshmi roared. “No.” Clop “You shut up.” There was an inhuman bellow from behind Lakshmi and she knew it instantly. She she broke into a cold sweat as she slowly turned and saw a monster where Deb once stood. And Monster was accurate, lacking any specific animal analogues. Such was the point of its creation. Four squinting eyes glowed red with their sights aimed directly at Lakshmi. Under its eyes were black markings. The same under Deb’s eyes. Lakshmi drew her shield. The monster that was Deb lunged forward, teeth and a pair of lower tusks gaped at Lakshmi. She could fit her whole head in there. She raised the shield and the beast slammed into it but didn’t flinch. Lakshmi was just flung aside. She hit a wall and cracked the wood and plaster. But she was still on her feet, shield upright. Thank the smiths for light platemail. That didn’t stop her from feeling rattled. As she stopped seeing stars, Deb swung her long bladed tail. It embedded itself deep in the wall right next to Lakshmi’s pointed air. She heaved and moved away from the hulking mass. Deb bellowed again and swiped to reach for Lakshmi with her long claws. Lakshmi swung her shield in response, deflecting the swipes. But every hit pushed her back and her shield was denting with every hit. She tried to look for an opening in the assault. Between the claws and tusks, finding somewhere to hit was essentially impossible. But she had the right distraction. Lakshmi jumped back from the latest swipe of the claw and flung her shield into the beast’s face. Surely a mindless monster wouldn’t see that coming. Didn’t matter. The shield was shorn into ribbons with a single swipe. Lakshmi was defenseless. But not offenseless. She dove in with her hammer as the beast yelled and she yelled in response. As she went in to strike, she saw four purple eyes. Human eyes. And hesitated. She hit the wall and was on the floor. Hammer still in hand. As she looked, the beast that was Deb placed its foot on her chest and screeched in her face. Prevent the wrong action of murder. Right Action. She gripped her hammer tight and stared Deb in the face. “Prevent The Act of Wrongs! Benthandorf Defend Right!” Lakshmi declared. Her faith was strong. She knew what to do. So why wasn’t it working. Her eyes widened. She panicked. She looked at her hammer. The holy power... Where was it? She had kept the faith, hadn’t she? She defied the order but never Bethandorf’s will! Unless… She… “Screwed up on that one. Looks like you finally fell outta ya’ god’s favor. Maybe ‘cause you were about to murder a kid you screwed up ya’self!” No. This can’t be. She was good. It’s all she knew how to do. Only that and… Surviving. This was frustrating. It was tiring. And she was going to die. And so would Carry-On… Flames burst from her fingers. She let go of her hammer and let the fire consume both hands. Here she was, relying on the power of a god of an order that betrayed her. Completely ignoring her mortal power. The kind that came from a devil demon. Lakshmi screamed. The flames engulfed. The flames extinguished. Deb was gone. There was nothing left. The hall was scorched. And Lakshmi was on her knees. Why? Just because her friend was in danger? Did it justify this? Did it? “No.” DID IT? “NO!” Lakshmi cried. She was selfish, she thought. To save herself. She had to destroy the life of this teenaged girl. She looked over and saw her hammer laying on the ground. What right did she have to wield it? It was all she had left. She had to leave. She took the hammer. And slammed the hammer head into the floor. And she prayed. One last time. Or she would. If any of it felt right. How could she do that? How could she have been so powerful on her own to burn a living creature with no trace? Unless. It wasn’t real. Clop She was on the floor in the middle of the hall. She was fine. Unharmed. Mostly. Her hammer and shield were in hand and her back hurt. The walls were covered in dents and there were two scorch marks on the floor where her hands were. So she imagined it? Deb? The fight? Her body was flailing at ideas? Clop “Imaginatin’? If that’s what you wanna call just a bit of what I can do! ” Clop “GRAAAR!” Lakshmi roared as she swung her hammer into the wall with splintering force and a Crack! Clop “N’ all you do is just violence ya’ way into anythin’!” Clop “GNNRRAGH!” Whack! “It really is true what they say,” “Stop it!” Crash “Shut up!” Wham! “When all you got is a hammer,” “Shutupshutupshutupshutup!” Whack Whack Thwack Crack! “Every problem looks like a fail!” “STOP USING THEIR VOICE!” Lakshmi wailed, her ever haggard breath hung dead in the air as her eyes glowed hot white as she wildly swiveled her head. Where was the exit? There had to be an exit! It maybe an abandoned mansion, but it still had to make sense. Why was the room was so still. Why was the world so still? Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. “Sh-Show yourself you monster!” Lakshmi shouted as her blood ran cold from the sound. “What a joke! What kinda rogue would I be if I went around showing people who I was?” “Stop! Stop Using their voice!” Lakshmi screamed, tired of this mockery of Carry-On. “I’m only usin’ the words they know, sweetheart. Ain’t you more comfortable? It’s just us, pal! Just you n’ me!” “What did you do to them!?” Lakshmei screamed again. She breathed. It was strange. How the air had to taste. How still it was. Almost as though… It was never there at all. She sighed. “I’m sick of these mind games.” Clop “I never lost my faith at all.” Clop “I’m waking up.” ClopClopClop “Light The Path To Wrongs!” ClopClopClopClopClopClopClopClopClopClopClop “Benthandorf Reveal Right!” From above a light shot down like a bolt from the blue and struck Lakshmi’s raised hammer. It shone with the holy light of her righteousness. She would know the truth. Even if no one else did. And the world around her changed. The damage done to the house in the previous visions was there. But she was back at the center of the foyer. She looked up and watched as her faith led her eye up the stairs. And there was her friend at long last. And there was her tormentor at long last. It was grotesque. A hulking beast twice the size of its typical species. Four delicate hooves and forelegs that led up to four grotesquely bulged thighs. A body the size of two barrels haphazardly put together. The color of a barrel too. A long black whipping tail with that moved lazily in the light. The front was the worst part. It’s where the neck should have been. And it technically was a neck, the neck that looked like a hunched over human torso made from more bulging veins and muscle than should be allowed to exist in this world. And to think that it was once a horse. This all lead up to the head. Its face. Long, horse-like, almost ordinary except in how unusually round it was before the protrusion of the muzzle. The ears were too low on the head, like a human’s. But the eyes were uncannily on the sides where they were supposed to be if this thing was truly a horse. Lakshmi looked into the eyes and gasped. And then grimaced. Because the eyes were big and silver. So she looked to see her friend on the beast’s back. The scruffily well dressed Carry-On whose body was slightly limp but still steady on the creature. On Carry-On’s eyes were like that of an animal. But the wrong animal. The socket was almost filled to the brim with blackness. The thing that was Carry-On’s head lazily angled itself towards Lakshmi with a goofy grin. “Hey sweetheart, how’s it been!” It was Carry-On’s voice but it was definitely not Carry-On. The only difference was that now it was real instead of the psychic echoes that were playing with her mind. “I gotta say, ya’ friend here has been the best at helpin’ me find the right books. Looks like this dump don’t got it all, but it’s got just enough to get to the next step.” the beast chuckled, using Carry-On’s body to hold 3 small tomes. “To making the Philosopher’s Stone…” Lakshmi said gravely. “You think I won’t stop you?” “Afta’ this pitiable show I don’t gotta worry ‘bout you. You ain’t ever gonna stop bein’ afraid of me. I make you lose your faith, and the Benthandorfian Order ain’t helpin’ you. Neitha’s ya friend right now that I got ‘em.” the beast snorted again. Lakshmi swung back to toss her hammer but paused mid-swing. The beast and Carry-On never flinched. “You ain’t ever gonna risk that. You wouldn’t be a real pal if you hurt your friend doing nothing wrong right now.” At that last comment, Lakshmi’s head erupted in flame. “You will never use my friend’s mouth to utter that word!” She yelled as fire leaked from her mouth with every word. “No one, especially you, has earned that right! No one else, after every mistake I’ve made to fight DNAlchemy and you, has believed me a true Paladin but Carry-On.” “You rational entities and your sentimental pride,” the beast whinnied with disgust, spitting those last two words with its actual horse mouth. “I think I might keep this vessel. Always good to have opposable thumbs.” Lakshmi released the handle of her hammer and grabbed the strap. “Not if I have anything to do with it,” She muttered. She spun the hammer around on its strap and raised it high, turning and turning into a blur of light. Her faith was strong and she knew that she was right. Psychic slavery. Robbing of personal autonomy. Wrong Action. “BENTHANDORF!”

#Artists on Tumblr #Drawings #Art #Traditional Art #original characters #horse #werewolf #devil #devil demon #horror #story #fantasy #paladin #rogue #body horror #concept art #sketch #sketches #sketchbook

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husbandits · 5 years ago

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instead of working on any of my other projects, my gift to you all today is headcanons about what halloween costumes the gang would wear

no reader this time!

Dutch insists on hosting the party, with almost no pushback. He wanted to do a themed party at first, but then no one could agree on a theme, so he got a little huffy and let it go. He dresses up like a classic vampire with a huge cape and one of his more playful suits, covering his face in white make-up (which he doesn't seal so by the end of the night it's runny, but he looks pretty good at the start of the party) and with a pair of plastic fangs that make him a little hard to understand the entire night.

Arthur, John, Abigail, and Jack are the first to arrive, before the party actually starts, so they can help dutch set up all the decorations and make sure the food is ready. Arthur is dressed like Frankenstein('s Monster), with surpising detail on his make-up and care to the prosthetics; it also gives him an excuse to 'borrow' one of John's jackets, making himself seem even bigger as it's ill-fitting. He also uses the costume as an excuse to not actually dance, when that starts up.

Abigail and Jack are in matching costumes, with her as a witch, complete with faux spiders hanging from her hat, milky white contacts (that susan makes her take out after a few hours when her eyes start getting dry) and emerald green skin. Jack is dressed as her black cat. Inititally the costume had been purely an outfit, as Abigail didn't want to put any make-up on him, but he'd started begging when she put hers on, and he ends up with a pink little nose and black whiskers. He also picks up the habit of meowing at people

John overheard Abigail talking about her and Jack's outifts and decided he wanted to coordinate his costume as well. Unfortunately he misunderstood just what she was going for, and ends going as Harry Potter. Abigail loves it anyway.

Hosea tends to center his costumes around what Jack's interests in recent years, since he usually takes him out for a second trick-or-treating in his and Dutch's neighborhood, and this year he's been noticing all the superhero trends. Namely he ends up as an unintentionally relevant Captain America, and Arthur and Mary-Beth end up tiptoeing around bringing it up all night.

Charles had been characteristically cagey about his costume, deflecting with a shrug or a 'dunno' whenever anyone asked, but when he comes up dressed like a mummy, he doesn't make a big deal about it, like they knew already. He doesn't do the the classic 'just tp around self' thing, but instead has one of those body-suits with a bandage-pattern on, and elaborate costume jewelry. He also has thick eyeliner, flashy blue robes, and the classic king-tut headdress.

Susan shows up to the party towards the beginning in her normal clothes, heading up to Molly's part of the house after she greets everyone, a large bag in hand. When she comes down, dressed like Maleficent with her hair tucked under the headpiece, and a fake crow on her shoulder. Molly helped her with the make-up, as well as the finishing touches on her costume, but mostly she'd just wanted moral support. Brushes off compliments with a huff, and before the end of the party she's taken off most of the make-up, since she'd been getting hot

Molly doesn't come down to join things until an hour or so after they've started (a little after Susan), but when she does, she's dressed in an elaborately crafted costume as the Creature from the Black Lagoon. She'd locked herself upstairs to perfect the make-up, blasting tutorials and jenna marbles videos to help boost her confidence as she had considered, when she wasn't ready 'on time', just giving up and half-assing it, but when she is finally satisfied with the costume she looks camera-ready

Mary-Beth ends up reusing the cosplay for her self-insert-turned-oc lord of the rings character from the sci-fi convention she last attended. She's a little embarrassed at reusing it, and apologizes at first, even though it's stunning, and everyone else insists, when she mentions that it's reused, that it's very apropriate, and stunning

Someone (Sean) promised to do a two part horse costume with Kieran, but then completely forgot and Kieran ended up coming as the back end, alone. He isn't all that upset about it though, and ends up holding the costume up with a borrowed pair of suspenders, turning it into more of a satyr costume instead

Strauss, not having realized that Dutch had already picked his favorite costume, shows up as a vampire as well. He's more of an 'authetic' vampire instead of Dutch's more stereotypical look, which seems more and more cheesy as the night wears on, especially next to Strauss' and his extra ex. His outfit is close to something his canon counterpart would wear, if frillier, and he also has his fangs glued onto his teeth, as opposed to simple plastic fangs, so he's actually understandable

If you thought Simon would show up as anything but a pirate, you're kidding yourself. He does it every year, but he does a different costume instead of just reusing the same one. This year he's an 18th century quartermaster and his saber is real metal, if blunted. He's a little more jolly than usual but gets somewhat cross if people give him grief for using the same concept yet again

Sean made a big deal about not doing anything edgy like in years past, and then showed up dressed exactly like Dutch. Hair slicked back and dyed, faux facial hair and beauty mark, he even 'sneaks' into Dutch's wardrobe to borrow one of his hawaiian shirts. He swears its a compliment, but then whenever Dutch's back is turned, he's doing a bad impression, much to the gang's delight

Karen and Tilly have a more subtle matching outfit concept- Karen dressed as a slutty nurse and Tilly as her zombie patient. Tilly's fake wounds aren't as elaborate as she'd initially wanted, but they last much longer than they would have otherwise, and when she acts the part of the costume, limping and tilting her head to the side, she looks very creepy.

Lenny's costume was originally Dorian Grey, but since there isn't actually a lot of physical components to the outfit, and the story is as much abt the portrait as it is the man, he doesn't really get recognized that much. Halfway through the party he gets Arthur to go out to pick a different comstume, and comes back as Dr Frankenstein! Will spend the rest of the night making obligatory 'Frankenstein-Frankenstein's Monster' jokes and goofing off with Arthur

Sadie wasn't exactly... thrilled about the idea of this part of halloween, just because she's not keen on the idea of a revealing costume from the store or putting together something elaborate (and expensive) that she's only going to wear once. As it is, she shows up a little late to the party in an impromptu lumberjack costume (with real axe!) and everyone ends up lowkey drooling over her anyway

Bill's werewolf costume is similarly half-assed, to... less than impressive results. The tears and fake fur glued to his old flannel aren't exactly as well done as they could be, and the cheap plastic fur starts to itch after a bit, but he's recognizable enough, and he ends up having a lot of fun

Josiah has something of a tradition of showing up in elaborate costumes of obscure characters from something he's become interested in, and not having the gang recognize him, much to his frustration. This year he's dressed up as Cecil Baldwin from Welcome to Nightvale, and gets mistaken for Eridan Ampora, 'someone from harry potter', and like three youtubers.

Swanson had been making on and off comments about dressing up as a demon when asked, but at the last minute chickened out and decided to do an angel instead. Unfortunately, the last-minute planning means that there weren't a lot of options available, and he ended up getting more of a sexy costume than he'd wanted. With a pair of white long john's underneath, the 'dress' doesn't come down to his knees and he feels incredibly awkward, but he sticks close to Strauss and Simon and is more relaxed by the end of the night

Javier doesn't initally come in much of a costume, just more elaborate make-up than usual and a little more black than he would otherwise wear, but when he sees everyone else's costumes he heads upstairs to piece something together from Molly's costume collection. When he comes back down as a sexy vampire, shirt pulled open and a trail of costume blood dripping down his chin, using a pair of glue-on fangs she'd gotten for Dutch (that he refused to use). Dutch is utterly exasperated at this point, and goes off to fume with Micah, but everyone else applauds him for the quick turn-around.

Micah shows up to the party in a full-on fursuit. He gets upset when Arthur doesn't immediately know its him, and then starts complaining about how hot the costume is about half an hour in. He ends up switching with Uncle halfway through the party though, who forgot to get a costume and hanging out in the kitchen listening to Dutch complain, dripping with sweat. Uncle spends the rest of the party half in the fursuit, napping on the couch

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strawberryspooktacular · 5 years ago

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STRAWBERRY SPOOKTOBER WRAP UP

To wrap up Strawberry Spooktober, we have selected our best pair picks sorted into the best, the worst and so bad it’s good. We also chose 3 personal favourites and a few Honorable mentions. V stands for Vic N stands for Nic

Pair favourites:

Good:

The Ritual (Before: 9.5, After: 10.5)

V: I liked the monster and the design of said monster, but I really liked the fact that the monster was a monster of guilt, or rather a monster that fed on guilt. Being Native, specifically Cherokee, this monster really like, brought my ancestors up from the dead and I immediately wanted to worship the monster.

N: This movie was atmospheric, it had a definite link to Norse mythology and the runes on the house and trees were accurate. It was an interesting and different idea of a horror movie based on Norse mythology. The only downside was their lack of knowing directions, THE SUN IS IN THE WEST OR THE EAST.

Tucker and Dale vs. Evil (Before: 9.5, After: 10.5)

V: I liked the hillbillies and the way the college kids all died. Even if that’s an awful thing to say.

N: This movie was a comedy horror which is always a favourite genre to mix. The twist of the classic hillbillies being the protagonists and the college kids being the antagonists makes for amazing hyjinx. Chad the villain was 100% terrifying and creepy while Tucker and Dale made for compelling unlikely heroes

Mandy (Before: 9, After: 10.5)

V: NIC CAGE GOES BATSHIT INSANE AND KILLS A LOT OF CULTISTS. AND THERE WAS A PENIS ON THE SCREEN FOR WAY TOO LONG. 10/10 WOULD RECOMMEND.

N: Mandy is an insane look through the eyes of a mad man. Nicolas Cage does LSD in the woods and is attacked by LSD bikers and cultists. It’s funny and insane, the visuals are great and the funny bits are hilarious.

So Bad It’s Good:

Tremors (Before: 9.5, After: 9.5)

V: Kevin Bacon’s Ass, especially in those Jeans™️. Being from Oklahoma, this movie actually really scared me when I first watched it (because it takes place like an hour and a half drive from me) and rewatching it reminded me of the first time I watched it with my Grandpa.

N: A delightfully 90s film, so 90s it might as well be singing Smash Mouth. A younger Kevin Bacon plays an amazing character and the pure idea of the movie was amazing. The only problem was the slightly anti climactic ending.

Sleepwalkers (Before: 8.5, After: 8)

V: I loved the cats (and the actors) and I kind of loved the monsters, but not the design. They could have done the design of the monsters much better in my opinion.

N: A look into one of the more strange movies of the Steven King franchise. The concept of the monsters was good but the execution was lacking. However, the movie has some funny moment and some incredible animal actors, particularly Clovis the cat.

Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Before: 8, After: 8)

V: I loved the 70s feel of the entire movie and the insanity of the whole movie, but the abuse of antiques and instruments really hurt me.

N: This movie captures the feels of 70s horror movies perfectly. Really the movie is made to be corny and so bad it’s good. Leather face was fun and weirdly relatable but the sheriff was creepy, although he was made to be that way.

The Worst™️:

Silence of the Lambs (Before: 6.5, After: 6.5)

V: I really didn’t like this movie. It gave me really bad anxiety for some reason and even now, I’m not sure why it happened. I did like the characters and the actors’ take on the characters.

N: This movie was good in its plot and main characters. Hannibal and Buffalo Bill are especially creepy and a perfect snapshot of a psychotic mind. However many of the characters felt under developed, such as the creepy

28 Days Later (Before: 8, After: 4.5)

V: This movie was just awful. The zombies didn’t really make sense and acted more like humans instead of actual zombies. And we didn’t even see the zombies that much because there were only like 10 zombies. However I did like the actor playing the chained up zombie.

N: This movie was strange, it felt like three separate themed movies pushed into one. The beginning of the movie was a classic zombie movie set in London, then it turned into a family fun road trip before ending on a dystopian after apocalypse movie. The music never fit any part of this movie, the main character turned into a ninja 5 days after waking from a coma, there were 10 zombies in the last hour of the movie and they acted like humans. Also IT RAINED ONCE IN THE ENTIRE MOVIE, SET IN ENGLAND.

The Borderlands (Before: 7.5, After: 5)

V: THE ASSHOLE OF THE CHURCH; how did that ending fit into the movie? I did like Deacon and Grey, and the setting of the movie itself was good. I did like that for being a found-footage film, the video wasn’t shaky.

N: This movie started well, this movie actually was a good movie for the majority of the running time. The characters were well developed and well balanced in humour and seriousness, the setting was pretty and it was a different take on a found footage movie. HOWEVER THE ENDING WAS TERRIBLE, CONFUSING AND OUTRIGHT WRONG.

Vic’s Picks:

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (Before: 9, After: 10)

I really enjoyed the monster designs and the fact that at least one of the monster’s actors was actually doing the stunts that are in the movie. I loved that they didn’t make the ending sad, like they could have, but they gave the characters a happy ending after all the nonsense they went through.

As Above So Below (Before: 7, After: 9)

I wasn’t expecting this movie to be one of my favourites, but it was. I loved the story and the locations that they filmed at and the characters. I wasn’t a huge fan of the jumpscares, but the ones they did have weren’t unnecessary.

My Bloody Valentine (Before: 9, After: 10)

I love Jensen Ackles and I loved the twist ending. The 3D was also really well done and hilarious to watch in 2D, because it didn’t really work as well as if we had watched it in 3D. I do have to say that the villain design was terrifying and I did enjoy hearing my History major girlfriend geek out about coal mines.

Nic’s Picks:

The Pyramid (Before: 9, After: 10)

This movie was a different take on the Egyptain pyramid horror movie, not focusing on the classic mummy but instead on Egyptain mythology, specifically the gods and the journey to the underworld. The father and daughter relationship was well developed and the found footage format was given up to ensure that important scenes were captured well toward the end. And it was cute to see my girlfriend geek out on the Egyptain gods.

Trick r Treat (Before: 10, After: 10)

Four different movies about a horror filled Halloween night, all linked together in the end and done well. Each story was unique with its own twists and amazing monsters. The children in this movie were adorable, even the evil one.

Troll Hunter (Before: 10, After: 10)

A Norwegian horror movie in a food footage style but told well through the eyes of college students doing a report for a project. Hans, the troll hunter they follow, is wonderful in his grouchy demeanor of a man worn with the world. The trolls themselves were wonderful in their lore and the use of CGI.

Honorable Mentions:

Grave Encounters (Before: 8, After: 9)

V: Surprisingly, I really liked the jumpscares in this movie.

N: A found footage movie set in an abandoned asylum with a lot of good jumpscares and a creepy atmosphere overall.

Apostle (Before: 8.25, After: 8)

V: I really liked Micheal Sheen in this movie and I really liked the cult, before they started killing people.

N: A cult centred horror movie set on a small island, Micheal Sheen is always good and the monster design was incredible but the movie was a little slow to start with some plot holes.

Dog Soldiers (Before: 9, After: 9)

V: The werewolves were so beautifully designed and I really liked the story and the actors themselves, ESPECIALLY THE DOG ACTOR.

N: A werewolf horror movie set in scotland with great characters, well designed werewolves and THE BEST DOG.

Joy Ride (Before: 8.5, After: 9)

V: The truckers and the whole concept of this crazy journey that the characters take throughout the movie was really good.

N: A very American horror film set around a very creepy truck driver that relies on atmosphere and actual threat rather that jumpscares. And Jim Beaver is always a plus.

Thirteen Ghosts (Before: 7, After: 9)

V: I loved Dennis and the makeup was well done.

N: A ghostly horror movie set around a strange mansion and a ritual, the make was done well and the characters, particularly Dennis and Maggie, were well developed and fun.

Puppet Master (Before: 6.5, After: 8.25)

V: Cuddly Bear was great, the actors were great, and the cast was diverse.

N: This movie had well designed scary puppets, good physical effects and a great cast of characters.

Deep Blue Sea (Before: 9, After: 9.5)

V: The sharks were beautiful and I loved that the sharks had a reason for attacking instead of just attacking for the sake of attacking.

N: A different take on shark horror movie with Samuel L Jackson and LL Cool J as amazing characters with some incredible physical effects.

Winchester (Before: 7.5, After: 9.5)

V: I really liked the costume and makeup design for this movie.

N: A movie centred around a real ghostly horror story and house with amazing effects and a great cast with developed characters

Don’t Knock Twice (Before: 6.5, After: 8.5)

V: The ending was a huge twist, the monster design was beautiful, and the actors were great at setting the scene for the scary things to happen.

N: A Welsh horror movie with a well written story, great cast with a good range of emotions, a lot of terrifying jumpscares, a good monster design and a twist ending.

#spoilers #horror movies #Gays watch films #Strawberry spooktober #october

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kariachi · 6 years ago

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”So, we’re gonna start today’s Martin Mystery rewatches with The Vampire Returns. Should I have listened to more of the Young Frankenstein soundtrack during lunch in preparation? Probably. But here we are instead.

I love how this show always specifies the exact time shit starts going down. For instance, in this episode, 10:32 pm CEST

Good on Lady Soulsucker’s date for paying enough attention to notice when the girl he’s out with grows fangs and her eyes start glowing. You don’t see that often enough.

Aw and then she takes the daintiest bite of apple with teeth bigger than Date-Dude’s face.

I wonder how they got out without being noticed... can’t remember if the vampires in this episode can do the ‘turn to fog’ thing. Sure I’ll find out later.

Diana sitting there with a book and a crowd of impressed young ladies. What are you showing them, Diana? Did you make this book yourself? Did you mother write it? I can’t think of a reason for the ooo-ing and ahh-ing going on otherwise. Either that or you managed to attract a pack of lesbians and they are trying to get in your pants.

...ya know I’m kinda all for the idea that Diana has unwittingly attracted a chunk of Torrington’s lesbian population and they are all trying to smooze in the awkward way that only a young gay can manage.

Also hello Tonio, it’s nice to see you. I’m going to have to include you in this in some way, I believe, given the location and also that this is a fic for nix.

Martin, Martin, sweetie, no. You are not getting that girl. There were actual sparkles coming off her, you don’t deserve that sort’ve quality. Plus, ya know, she sounds like your brand of nerd isn’t her style. I know the saying is “aim for the moon, if you fail you’ll land among the stars” but let’s be realistic for five seconds

Tonio can see this disaster coming from a mile away.

Amber is not having it, solidly unimpressed. I’m shocked.

You think the girls at this school ever rate the boys and just, give Martin a solid 6/10 for effort and moxie alone? “We wouldn’t date him, but at least he’s entertainingly stupid.”

Amber’s look of shock and concern at the idea of Martin enjoying studying. Like she’s about to call in the Psi Psi Psi girls and Diana, clearly their moron has fallen ill. Diana, meanwhile, is just pissed and I can’t decide whether the idea that this is because Martin is lying to get a date or because ‘has he been lying for the past our entire lives’ is funnier.

Though, given we’ll be working with witch!Martin for this it’s not like he’s lying. He just doesn’t like studying, well, anything they teach at Torrington. (Although I am still a big fan of the idea that he’s perfectly bright and just doesn’t apply himself like, at all.)

Martin don’t growl at your sister, you’ll get enough chances to in season 3.

And Amber trying to let him down easy.

“Very rare, and totally irreplaceable” and you, all the way into season 2, are going to work with them, in your office, immediately after calling in Martin- known disaster and Destroyer of Projects? I swear you’d think MOM wanted her crap ruined. After a point you have no one to blame but yourself.

Martin no.

I repeat, MOM, no one to blame but yourself. Most people with an ounce of sense would stow away the shit they didn’t want destroyed when the guy who keeps destroying shit was called in.

Diana no. You’re being sent on a mission not a fucking river cruise.

Introducing, the world’s scariest tunnel of love. First condoms in the water, now people going missing, this dude is just done.

Well Lady Soulsucker just fucking demolished that place didn’t she. Godsdamn, forget shutting it down because people disappeared, shut it down because it’s officially a safety hazard.

Okay, access hatch in the ceiling, that explains that.

...Okay but Martin isn’t entirely wrong with his assessment here? Something strong and nocturnal is right on the nose, and while the werewolf and half-beast-half-humanoid (and I love he uses that word specifically) hybrid guesses aren’t quite right, they aren’t far off the mark. He brought his A game today.

Diana, darling, kids playing practical jokes generally don’t leave fair rides completely demolished in their wake. That is not a normal occurrence.

Java about to eat half-consumed food off the floor like child did Diana not teach you better than that? I wouldn’t be surprised Martin didn’t but Diana?

500 year old saliva. This is the sort’ve ridiculousness I expect from this show. What, did Lady Soulsucker not swallow, spit, or brush her teeth since she escaped her coffin? Was she going around with 500 years of no brushing on her breath? Of course she’s got vampire hypnosis it’s the only way she could get a date.

Vampire goes rwar at children, flees into the sun to escape capture. Also he may need some heavier clothes, those don’t seem to be keeping the sunlight out.

Martin no.

Billy making himself useful. Helping them follow the massive flashing clue that is the vampire’s clothing.

Martin slow your jock-ass down

Martin no, purple isn’t your color.

Okay, can I just say here that Lady Soulsucker looks fucking weird? She looks like a haunted porcelain doll. Or a shitty oc. Here, a theme song to go with her.

Question, why is there a surf shop in the middle of Paris? Is Paris big for surfing? A true French sport?

Oh, yeah, Simone, I forgot her name. It’s very French. Also dude chill.

Diana will not be stopped by some weird hyper-jealous dude.

She also, ya know, looks like a fucking corpse. But yeah, the reflection thing is your first clue something’s up.

He doesn’t see her, he doesn’t hear her, he doesn’t smell the 500-yo morning breath. I claiming him as an anosmiac by the way, the flag is in.

Welp. I can’t decide whether this feeding was more or less extreme than the last one. I mean, this time was pretty fucking hardcore, but last time she demolished an entire fair ride.

Simone, sweetie, have you considered that if you are looking for a specific guy maybe, just maybe, the way to go about it isn’t to just eat whatever random dude happens to be within hypnotizing range? Just a thought?

“He needs help, I’m going in” Martin says right after watching a guy get eaten by a vampire, proving that while he may not be the moron we deserve, he’s the moron we need. Diana, on the other hand, is a voice of reason and doesn’t deserve this shit.

Lucky those clothes were there to break your fall, Martin.

Martin, after dropping from the ceiling into a vampire’s feeding ground, alone: Don’t make me fuck your shit up! Simone, seeing this: Oh yay it’s my moron! Speak of the devil!

Am I saying Gerard was probably just as much an impulsive dumbshit as his great-x-grandson? Yes. Yes I am.

“Clever, and brave.” And a complete moron of a dork. “Just like my Gerard.”

“And just as handsome” it’s nice to see the looks keep in that family? I don’t believe Gerard got the floaty hair though, but his hair looked stupid so really Martin has the advantage there.

Vampire minions are strong, holding back Java with one hand.

Vampire true love is apparently very sparky.

Well Diana, at least you saved the watch.

Martin gets abducted by vampires, Billy immediately must run to the scene.

I’d be impressed with your strength, Java, if those doors hadn’t looked 70% fallen in before you got to them. You could’ve probably gotten the same result from a hearty cough on them.

Gerard=Martin w/o floaty hair or modern fashion. Don’t know why the portrait is in black in white.

You’d think Billy could’ve taken the thirty seconds to read a brief overview about the woman while he waited for Diana and Java, but no.

No wonder Gerard looks weird, there’s not even a splash of warm color in that outfit. And warm tones don’t do Simone any favors. Coordinate your fashion better, people, you’re vampires for fuck’s sake! What would Mike say!

How do we know about genes from a 15th century vampire? Also I note she says ‘relative’ and not ‘descendant’, but I’m not in the mood to dig into that.

Billy you are literally a galactic conqueror, but your big boy underwear on and get in the basement.

Let’s be real, Diana, that’s just a sibling thing. You go into horrible places to save them so you can give them hell about making you go to a horrible place to save them.

How many minions has Simone gotten together? Like, the clan hasn’t been renewed yet, so... When did she get the time? It’s been like 24 hours

Okay, that explains new guy A, what about B and C over there, who look like they stepped out of Robin Hood? where they sealed in with you? Is this the old crew?

Simone, queen of the night and motivational speeches.

Martin you can’t just call on a specific guy, poor thing probably had a heart attack. “Fuck, my Lady’s new consort has beef, fuckfuckfuck” but no, you just want some fucking fries. And Simone is fucking loving it.

Okay, so we know some of them sleep upside down.

It’s nice to see vampires can still be active sleepers.

Hissy vampires on all fours

Vampire!Martin is perfectly fine with being an evil trophy husband

Vampire!Martin standing there like “yeah, you rule the underworld, babe, rocking it!”

“Do you know how much grief I’ll get at Torrington if my stepbrother comes back a vampire?” Would it really be that much more than you get just for having him as a stepbrother in the first place?

A vampire lord consort and yet still, at heart, an annoying brother

Simone: Get me back my fucking moron and we’re all screwed!

Tell me that’s like, Diana or Java’s dirty sock because I’m fairly certain even Martin doesn’t deserve to have his own stuffed in his mouth

And Simone becomes a massive fucking bat beast. Fur, muzzle, little winglet-dealies, big ears, big teeth, no tail...

Okay, yeah, Java’s sock, cool

Those are some seriously dirty windows. Or, well, were.

Sunlight burns everybody but also burns Simone to fucking ash right quick. Which then removes the curse on her victims.

Also I wanna know more about this apparent vampire gene. It is of much interest, especially given next episode will be dealing with werewolves and in some folklore werewolves when killed become vampires, so...

Martin. No.

Amber really. Either you were setting him up or you yourself are dense as teak.

Oh Martin... stick with spies and monsters, honey

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nyxwordsmithwrites · 6 years ago

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Personal Circle of Hell: Chapter 01: A Demon Awakens and A Deal is Struck

a/n: NYX HERE! Have I had this project in my drafts a while? Nah, like a week. But I’m far more invested in my grim ass au than I am anything else right now. (except my super secret project no one knows about) And CI is doing nothing for me. So! Here we go! A NEW AU with magic and shit cause that’s my jam.

NOTE: I’m willing to open a taglist for this one. Please block the tag DYSTOPIAN, if you want to avoid seeing these. Please also note that I won’t be having a HUGE taglist for this one.

Warnings: Demon Mention, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Swearing, Allusion to Sex, Dystopian Themes, Discrimination, Slight Physical Violence, Suggestive Scenes, Prison Mention

Words: 4,002

Masterpost | Chapter 02

Also available on AO3!

The sky overhead was cast in a dim, dreary grey, thunder rolling somewhere in the distance. The streets were unusually quiet, also cast in an oily, murky grey-brown, as though dust and dirt had collected on every surface and no one had ever bothered to try and wash it off.

Rain was yet to start falling, but the metallic scent in the air indicated that it was coming, ozone crackling as lightning cracked somewhere close by.

Boots clicked over the cold, stained pavement, steps of purpose echoing down the near silent street as the tall, thin figure marched down the empty street. A dark, heavy overcoat was pulled tightly around his shoulders, the long tail of his coat dipping at his knees as he kept a hood pulled over his head, obscuring half his face as he stalked down the street.

Long, dark hair fell into the stranger's eyes as they moved quickly, shielded against the wind as it grew and whipped at the tails of his overcoat. The world around him even smelt different than he last recalled, more fear and anger and resentment in the air.

He licked his lips as he strode along the empty pathway, searching the streets for any signs of life. He could taste the resentment on his tongue, the faint flickers of non-human life on the breeze and he couldn’t help the small smile that pulled onto his face then.

Resentment was one of his favourites.

He ducked quickly across the street, spotting someone in a dark hoodie wandering slowly toward him. Dark purple patches held on with white stitching contrasted the dreary grey-brown of the world but the target was in sight.

It didn’t take long for him to close the distance between them, stopping by their side and the stranger faltered as he did, “What year is it?”

Magic interlaced his words, filling the air with the sweet scent of jasmine, the stranger’s bright eyes going hazy and vacant. There was a pause as he let the magic seep into the stranger’s mind, eyes hollow as they watched his target, swaying slightly as his nonhuman blood fought his magic and eventually conceded.

It had no choice. He was far older and stronger than this poor werewolf would ever be.

“2098.” The man whispered, eyelids drooping as he fought off the spell as best he could.

“Who is in power?”

“A human. Delra.”

He wrinkled his nose, “Humans in power are never a good thing.” he growled quietly to himself, pushing his glasses up his nose beneath the hood, “What is the most efficient way to gather information?”

“A phone.” the stranger answered, “Here.” he picked his up from out of his pocket and he regarded it for a moment.

“I do not require yours.” the stranger tucked it back into his pocket with a slow nod. Lights were starting to shine in his eyes. No matter, he would have all his questions answered soon enough, “Where am I now and where should I go to acquire one?”

“The slums of NewHaven.” he answered quietly, swaying as he regarded the stranger. His eyes were clearing quickly and he winced. NewHaven had been nice once. Such a pity. “You will want to get into the Shopping District.” the stranger gave him some directions.

“Very well.” he turned and shrugged his jacket closer, “You have been of use to me.” he pressed a finger to the stranger’s forehead, a small dark blue sigil glowing on his skin before fading away, “In case you require assistance in the future.” he continued coldly, “Not that you will remember me.”

A few paces away, he heard the stranger snort softly, but whatever words of surprise he had were cut short. There was nothing to remember or be alarmed about.

It was easy enough to forget the man he’d stopped and charmed, like so many others he had in the past, making his way out of what had been NewHaven and into the Shopping District.

The world was not much lighter here, but colour splashed garishly against the same grey-brown, and he scowled up at the various colours. He found a store with various phones in the window, wandering in and pushing his hood back as he did so. Pale, alabaster skin contrasted his black hair as it fell haphazardly into his glasses, forcing him to sweep it back as his ice blue eyes slowly scanned the store.

It wasn’t exactly extravagant but it was at least clean and the employees may have looked bored and dead inside, but at least they were trying to look busy. Although, even from his first glance, he knew the one behind the counter had been scrubbing that one spot for ten minutes.

As he stepped in, his boot clicked on cheap linoleum, earning curious glances from both of the employees. He kept his gaze averted as the employees shared a silent conversation, willing the other to go approach him, before finally one of them did, rounding the counter and standing to his side, “How may I help you today, sir?” they sounded bored and tired, and maybe a little frightened. But what was new about that?

“I require a phone.” he answered simply, “Unfortunately I know nothing about them and require all the information I can gather now.” once more, the sweet smell of jasmine filled the store and he looked to both employees, “Starting with how they function, if you please.”

It took almost an hour to fully grasp how phones actually functioned, let alone interact with one. And signing up for a ‘contract’ with the company was harrowing in and of itself. It was certainly an interesting way to learn that the nonhumans such as himself were automatically second-class citizens.

No matter. He could play the part of a human if he so required.

The employee typed onto a computer and he observed it idly as they worked away. It was fascinating, how far technology had seemingly come in the last few decades.

“What name am I putting this under, sir?”

He hummed to himself, a familiar face flashing in his mind, “Logan. Logan Twain.” he answered, knowing full well he wasn’t giving out his true name.

He would never do that again.

The employee continued typing, filling out Logan’s information and he smirked as he took the new device in his hands, looking over the thin sleek lines.

The only thing accurate on that contract was his false name and the phone number of this phone. Hell, he wasn’t even sure they were ever going to get paid. The employee offered some paper to Logan, “The details of your contract, sir. I wouldn’t normally offer, but I hope it may help you.”

Logan took the paper, tucking it into the pocket in his jacket, “Thank you. I will be sure to look over this when I have free time. Tell me, where may I find a bank?”

Logan smirked to himself and he slowly scanned the pavillion before him. The small device in his pocket had informed him of all he needed to know of this world. It’s odd intricacies, the hierarchy and most importantly, its flaws. It’s loopholes. The easiest way for him to exploit the system.

And apparently, all that was required was to be a four-hundred-year-old demon.

He smirked to himself as he made his way through the pavillion, voices of humans filling his ears. The contrast between the non-human slum and the human suburb was so vast, he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it all. He already knew how the system worked, it was another thing to see it so obviously laid out before him.

“Hey!”

Logan’s head snapped to the sound and he scowled at the sight before him. Another nonhuman stumbled back from a woman, phone protectively held to his chest and Logan saw the telltale shimmer of a glamour over his back.

“Why did you bump into me?!” the human woman screeched and Logan’s feet carried him to the altercation, without much thought. Iridescent scales peeked out from under flaking make-up, catching some kind of light as Logan approached.

Fae.

“Were you trying to steal my purse?!” her voice was getting louder by the moment and the fae was scowling behind his shades, hand slipping his phone into his pocket, “Oh my god, get away from me-!”

“Oh come off it.” the fae retorted, sensing Logan’s approach and tensing, “I bumped you texting, boo, it ain’t nothing to freak out about-”

The woman looked to Logan, “Oh my god, help me, he has a weapon and he tried to-”

Logan sneered at her, snatching the fae’s wrist, “I am well aware of what transpired.” he let the magic dance off his tongue, and the fae jerked, protesting Logan’s hold as the woman’s eyes went vacant, “Do not speak of it.”

The fae stopped struggling a moment, staring at the woman, “Hey, yo, like this is cool and all, but can you-”

He yelped as Logan dragged him away from the woman, not entirely sure why he was helping but feeling compelled to. It was familiar maybe. He wasn’t sure.

“Hey! Let go of me!”

Logan noticed the contrast immediately. The pavillion seemed more than happy to stare and gawk at the human woman in need, but for the fae? None. Not even a hesitant glance in their direction.

“Hey!” the fae tugged harshly at their wrist, “Let go!”

Logan dragged him into a darkened alley, throwing him against his back on the wall and watching him arch, “I’m well aware of what you are.” Logan leaned close to the fae’s face, catching his reflection in the fae’s shades, “I’m well aware you’re innocent.” he added in a low growl, catching the fae’s eyes over his shades. Pale violet irises surrounded by dark, inky blackness with no pupils. Explained the shades, “I am also in need of some help, so unless you would like witnesses to send you to jail over nothing, you’ll come with me.”

The fae narrowed his eyes, scowling, trying to pull his wrist from Logan’s hold, “You think I wouldn’t prefer prison over whatever you have planned, honey?” he scoffed, “And you really think I haven’t been on false charges before?” Logan raised an eyebrow as the fae sneered, “I ain’t owe you shit-”

“No, you don’t.” he growled, “But I can protect you.”

The fae scowled as he heard sirens in the distance.

“You have five seconds to-”

“Fine!” he barked, “Fine, but can you, like, relax on my wrist? Fuck.” Logan relaxed his hand and the fae relaxed with a huff, “Your grip alone is terrifying, demon.”

Logan’s eyebrow fell and he scowled.

“Relax, relax, demon boy, it’s just cause of my eyes, alright?” he rolled his eyes, “Nobody else has a clue.”

Logan narrowed his eyes, “Very well,” he pulled the fae off the wall and out the alley, ignoring their cries as they stumbled along behind, “You will show me to shelter.”

“Shelter?” the fae asked incredulously, “You don’t have a home?”

Logan threw the fae back against the wall, the fae wincing with a sharp cry when their glamoured wings hit the brick, “I only awoke twelve hours ago and I have already used so much of my ability that I have little to no patience.” he growled, eyes flashing and the fae scowled up at him, “Can you or can you not-”

“Whoa easy, demon dick, I can show you a place.” he snarled, trying to push off the wall, “But someone as nicely dressed as you ain’t gonna like it.”

Logan rolled his eyes, “So long as I can sleep, I can find my own means tomorrow.”

The fae glared up at him, clearly trying to measure Logan before sighing and rolling their eyes, “Alright, fine.” he twisted his wrist, “But let go first.”

“Why? It is not considered suspicious-”

The fae huffed, “I’m well aware of that, demon dick, but it hurts, alright?” Logan blinked at him, and the fae rolled his eyes, “My wrist. It hurts. Because your grip is a fucking vice.” he snarled, “So let go, and I’ll take you where you want to go.”

“And if you try and run?”

The fae rolled his eye with a loud, long groan, “You’re a fucking demon.” he hissed, “You’re infinitely faster and stronger than me, even if my wings weren’t glamoured.” he snapped, “So let go, and I’ll take you.”

Logan straightened and released the fae’s wrist, “Very well. That is sound reasoning.” he frowned, “Why do you say demon as though it is uncommon?”

The fae pulled his hand to his chest, massaging his wrist, “Because they’re fuckin’ rare?” he retorted, pushing off the wall and Logan moved to let him pass, “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of The Cull yet.”

Logan followed the fae closely, “Cull?” he inquired, “Inform me.”

The fae rolled his eyes, pulling his phone out and pushing his shades up to cover his eyes. “I’m not a computer.”

Logan huffed, tugging at the tip of the fae’s wing. He yelped, pulling them closer with a scowl up at Logan, “I do not want to manipulate your mind, fae, but I will if I have to.”

“Alright, fuck.” he texted someone and tucked the phone back away, “It was a good like, fifty years ago or something. Some human douchebag took power and ordered non-humans culled.” he crossed his arms, “I wasn’t even around when it happened, I was overseas visiting fam. When I came back, they screened me and took my fucking passport, so I can’t leave.” he huffed, “Found out most other fae, demons, and angels were killed or screened like I was.”

Logan nodded along, following the fae through the slowly emptying streets, “And why were you screened?”

“Because if I fuck up often enough they’ll put me in a compound where I can do hard labour for them without pay. That’s the whole purpose of screening.” he spat onto the pavement, “See who to keep an eye on. Who to harass.” Logan opened his mouth, “If you say that’s hardly fair, I’ll punch you.”

Logan rolled his eyes, “The fact of the matter stands, but my question actually had nothing to do with that.” The fae narrowed his eyes, “I was actually curious as to why we were letting inferior beings tell us what to do.”

The fae huffed, “I’ve asked that question for years.” he crossed his arms, “Fact is, anyone too strong or a threat, they throw into a compound from birth. Brainwash them til they don’t know any better.” Logan scowled, “Anyone who gets stronger as they get older? Harass them til they break some stupid non-human-only law and get throw into a compound.”

“And what’s jail?”

“For minor offences.” the fae shrugged, “Being rude, petty theft, that kinda shit.”

“So, you definitely would have gone to jail for bumping into that woman.”

“Yup.” he popped the ‘P’.

“You seem surprisingly at ease with that.”

The fae rolled his eyes, “Look, they’re gonna get me in a compound, one way or another.” he snarled, shoulders rising, “May as well have fun before I get there.”

Logan frowned down at the shorter fae. Resentment was one thing, resignation and despondency were another. They weren’t appealing tastes to him, after all.

It appeared that maybe he had woken at a good time after all. But what was it about this fae that had caught his attention so strongly?

He had been tugged to Other and humans like this in the past, but only to fulfil some need of his own. It felt that this time, he was fulfilling a need of his, instead.

The fae turned toward an old, brown duplex, climbing up the stairs with Logan in tow, stepping over a loose brick on the stairs.

“Yeah, it’s a shithole, I know.” he answered, “But when you can’t get a job, it’s the best you can do without being outright homeless.” the fae pulled out a key and turned the lock, ignoring Logan’s confused frown, “I’m just lucky I live alone right now.”

Logan followed the fae into the home and locked the door behind him. The grey-brown seemed to permeate everything that wasn’t human. Everything was stained in it but Logan grimaced at the state of the single room apartment.

The walls were mouldy and crumbling, the framework visible in patches as water stained the ceiling and the room smelt of mildew.

“Yeah, I know, it’s gross.” the fae pushed at a dish and it vanished into the air, “Like I said, best I can do.” he huffed and stood near his single mattress on the floor, the sheets torn and blanket clearly far too thin to keep him warm.

“It will do for the time being.” Logan answered, pulling out his phone, “First, I ask that you help me find a new home.” he flicked open the browser, “I am yet to find a reliable search engine-”

The fae entered a URL, “There, use that one. I’m getting changed.”

Logan scrolled through the site’s offerings before movement caught his eye and he raised his head to the fae. He was trying to remove his shirt, pale skin showing beneath the fabric and sharp ridges and valleys showed from beneath his skin.

Not only was the fae nearly freezing to death in an apartment like this, but when was the last time he’d eaten?

Logan put his phone down, stepping silently behind the fae, who only stiffened when Logan leant down to his ear, invisible feathery touches dancing over his skin, “Need help with that?” he purred softly and the fae shivered.

“No, back off-”

“You’ve been struggling a while.” Logan purred into his ear, feeling the fae shiver and pause his movements. Logan’s hands gently pushed the fae’s away, resting on his hips, “You could have just asked.”

“I’ve never asked for help and I’m not asking now.”

Logan smirked at the snippy remark. Maybe there was something to this fae that had sparked his interest. He still couldn’t quite name it, but he had a fire inside him Logan found he quite liked.

“No, you’re not.” Logan responded, sliding his hands up the fae’s side’s, feeling his sharp bones and slight frame as the shirt slid up with his hands, “And neither am I.”

The fae grumbled, pushing ineffectively at the shirt to go back down, “I ain’t no whore, man-”

Logan laughed softly, a dark sound, and the fae froze, “No, you’re not.” he answered, feeling every dip and rise of the fae’s ribs, “But glamoured wings must make these hard to remove, yes?”

“I mean, yeah, you’re not wrong but-”

“No, buts.” Logan answered, one hand sliding around to the fae’s chest and feeling his breath hitch as he gracefully pulled the collar over the fae’s head, “How long have they been glamoured?” Logan’s eyes caught on the shiny iridescent scales on the side of the fae’s face, curling over his high cheekbones to his eyebrows, like too much highlighter or eyeshadow. Tiny little scales, so small Logan could only make out their individual shapes this close.

The fae shivered, “Uh, about a year.” he whispered, wincing to himself, “But that’s none of your business!”

Logan chuckled, pulling the shirt back, but keeping his hand splayed over the fae’s chest. He could feel the fae breathing quickly, and saw the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“They can’t be in good shape, if you pretend they don’t exist.” Logan purred softly, “Is that why you didn’t run, little fae?” the fae shivered and his breath hitched as Logan slipped the shirt carefully from one of the fae’s arms, “Because you can’t fly?”

The fae’s head dropped forward suddenly, and Logan blinked as he felt tension flood from the fae. He felt the fae’s wings slowly droop to the floor and Logan frowned as the glamour shattered around them, revealing feathery, dark wings that were torn and burned.

Logan’s hand pulled the fae against his chest when he saw the brand on one of the feathery appendages, “They branded you.” he half-growled, half-whispered.

The fae nodded, “For someone who’s pretty new to this world, you seem to know a lot.”

“I have access to the internet,” he answered, smoothly pulling the shirt off and discarding it. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the brand, “Part of the screening?”

The fae shook his head, “Nope. A mark I’ve been to jail.” he raised his wings to reveal two more on his back, “One more and I’m shipped to a compound.”

His voice was low and melancholy, more of the resignation filling the air between them and making Logan wrinkle his nose. He hated the taste of resignation, “I won’t allow that.” he growled and the fae jerked.

“What? Why?” the fae asked, voice a little higher than he’d obviously intended, “What the fuck do you care, demon dick?”

Logan was familiar to the taste of fear, especially when it was accompanied with defensive comments like that, “I’ve found I quite enjoy your company, little fae.” he felt the fae shiver as Logan pressed him more tightly to his chest, tapping a slight rhythm on the fae’s own pale chest, “And as I am more capable of maintaining a ‘human-like’ glamour...I would be more than willing to accommodate you.”

“I will not be anyone’s servant.”

Logan smirked and leaned close to the fae’s ear, “Even if it means staying here? Alone? Destined for the compound?” he asked in a low whisper, verging on a growl, “I can’t influence you now, so I shan’t try, but I’d like to think you’re at least reasonable, little fae.” the fae shivered again, “And avoiding the compounds would be a reasonable thing to do, don’t you think?”

The fae’s jaw worked, adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled with words and clenched his fists by his sides. Logan smiled and let his hand trail down to the fae’s navel.

“That’s what I thought, little fae.” he whispered, letting him go and the fae spun around to face him, shades crooked and eyes widening when he realised how close they were.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Little fae?”

The fae shivered, “Stop it!” he squeaked, glaring up at Logan and the demon couldn’t help but smile. The fae’s eyes flicked to his fangs and back to his eyes.

“On one condition.”

“What?”

“You stop calling me demon dick.” he deadpanned and a smile suddenly broke out on the fae’s face, his own sharp teeth shining behind his lips.

“Then what should I call you instead?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, “You’re Highness? Master? Sir-?”

“Logan is fine.”

The fae’s eyes widened in surprise, words dying behind his lips. Logan watched as the fae’s eyebrow rose, “Logan.”

“Yes.”

“That’s all?”

“That is all.”

The fae frowned, eyes narrowing, “What’s the catch?”

“Elaborate.”

“You gave me your name.”

Logan rolled his eyes, catching the fae’s chin between his index and thumb and leaning down, “You don’t really think I gave you my true name, do you?” the fae’s breath hitched but he shook his head, “All I expect from you, little fae, is a name by which to call you by.”

“R-Remy.” he spat out quickly, “Remy’s good.”

Logan grinned, eyes roving over Remy’s face quickly before letting him go, “Thank you, Remy.” he answered, offering the fae his shirt, “I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”

Remy snatched his shirt back, holding it protectively over his chest and glared up at Logan from behind his shades, “This is gonna bite me in the ass, isn’t it?”

Logan withdrew to the kitchenette, leaning against the countertop, “I very much doubt that.” he returned to house-hunting, “Now, change. We have a new home to acquire.”

“You said you needed to rest-”

“In this cesspool?” Logan answered, “I think not.”

#sanders sides #nyx writes #dystopian #dystopian au #demon!Logan #Fae!Remy #mind control tw #mind manipulation tw #swearing tw #allusion to sex tw #dystopian themes tw #discrimination tw #physical violence tw #suggestive scenes tw #prison mention

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twothumbsandnostakeincanon · 6 years ago

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Okay. ALRIGHT. I saw THIS picture:

and immediately reblogged it with THESE tags:

which @graciebirdie then reblogged with THESE tags:

to which I responded with THIS message:

YES. YES YES. The BEST part of this idea is that while Allison looks like a Bad Girl™ and is an actual facts badass when it comes to brass tacks, she's also definitely still that girl who's gonna cry when she accidentally hits a dog. She absolutely listens to "Backstreet's Back" on a loop. So when she and Lydia hook up, first Lydia's like "oooh, she's so mysterious, she’s probably killed a guy, that shouldn’t turn me on but it totally does” but then she sees Allison trapping spiders and letting them go outside the house because -they’re important to the ecosystem, Lydia- and Lydias like “oh my god I have to protect her.”

And APPARENTLY I’m not done with this yet, come with me on a journey:

Allison leaned against the building, stubbing the last of her cigarette out on the brick and flicking it in the trash. “I need a vape pen,” she mumbled to herself. Secondhand smoke was nasty shit.

So was firsthand smoke, but whatever. She’d quit… someday.

She adjusted her shirt, ensuring her favorite tattoo was showing so as to make an accurate first impression, and walked into class.

She handed over her transfer card to the lit teacher and idly glanced around the class.

Bored looking students zoned out around the classroom, staring out the window if they had a view- except for one. A goofy looking shaggy haired kid was staring at her with his mouth slightly ajar. Great. There was already a dude who wanted to take a walk on the “wild side.”

She held in a sigh when she realized the only free desk was directly behind him.

Just as she slid into her seat, the boy turned around and wordlessly offered a pen.

She looked from him to the pen, surprised, but didn’t take it.

After a moment he got a confused look on his face.

“Didn’t you say you need a pen?” he asked.

She stared at him, astounded that someone would so blatantly admit to having heard something that should have been impossible to hear with normal human ears- even if he had actually misunderstood her.

The teacher stood up to get their attention, and the boy finally turned back around, still holding his pen.

She watched closely, trying to peg what exactly the guy was, and it didn’t take long. The way he cocked his head every time a car drove by outside, the way he obviously sniffed when a late student arrived with their closed coffee thermos: he was a werewolf, and an absolute shame to the stealth supernatural community.

When class was over and the students were spilling into the hallway, Allison took off her jacket, revealing what would hopefully be a full tattoo sleeve on her left arm someday. If she could find another artist to pick it up, anyway. She draped the jacket over her bookbag and headed out, considering whether she should just bluntly approach the kid about his wolf-hood or try to sniff out information on why he was so blasé about it first.

Just as she stepped into the hallway, she was accosted by a short red-headed girl who was followed by a beefy “I Strut Because I’m Insecure” type; clearly the boyfriend.

“That jacket is killer!” the girl gushed. “I’m Lydia, this is Jackson,” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Buff and Insecure.

“Allison.” She stuck out her right hand to shake, but Lydia reached for her left one and pulled it straight to look at her tattoos. Allison twitched as she suppressed the reflex to put her in a choke hold.

“Oh, these are beautiful! What class do you have next? How did you get these? You can’t be eighteen already, do you have a fake ID?” Lydia threw question after question at her, and Allison had the feeling that it was more calculated than it seemed.

“I knew an artist,” Allison said vaguely. “And I have…” she checked her schedule, “U.S. History next.”

“With who? Ms. Masi?”

“Um,” another quick check. “Yes.”

“That’s my class! I’ll show you where it is. Bye Jackson,” she said flippantly without looking at him, hooking an arm into Allison’s and trotting along.

Allison side eyed her and glanced back at Jackson, who she caught checking out her ass. She rolled her eyes and faced forward. God, that could turn into a ridiculous mess in half a minute if Lydia turned out to be a possessive, blame-the-girl type.

Lydia chattered as they walked along, and Allison tuned in and out, keeping an open eye for any students who were preternaturally attractive/strong/whateverthefuck.

“-and we’re supposed to do a project on a landmark supreme court case, I was thinking Roe v. Wade, does that sound good to you? There’s a lot to explore since nine states have trigger laws in the case of it being overturned, with three of those criminalizing-”

“Wow,” said Allison, surprised. “You know a lot about it.”

Lydia’s stride broke for a single step before picking right back up.

“Oh, yeah, there was an episode of ‘L.A. Boys’ about it,” she said breezily.

Allison was almost a thousand percent sure that wasn’t true. Why on earth would she pretend to be uninterested in Roe vs. Wade right after suggesting it as a research topic? Why would she pretend to be dumber than she really was? Jesus Christ, what was wrong with people at this school?

“Well, you know what they say,” Allison said casually. “Smart is sexy.”

Lydia looked at her with a sharp smile. “Is it now?” she purred, pulling a classroom door open and swaying her hips as she walked in, looking over her shoulder at Allison.

Oh God, Allison thought, mouth dry and heart racing.

Maybe it wasn’t Beefy Boy she needed to worry about.

(imma throw in a tag for @areiton cause I think you were interested in this too?)

#AU where girls are allowed to flourish complexly outside of a male narrative #btw I'm calling Jackson Beefy Boy forever now bye #Allison Argent #allydia #allison/lydia #this blog needs a tag for my bullshit #graciebirdie #if I'm being 100% real this could be completely out of character for Allison I honestly don't think I have the best grasp of her #but then again AU #changes to the character within the confines of differences in the universe are pretty chill right #also nothing is real and I'm literally just here to play COOL #tumblr fic and kinda fic

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rhetoricalrogue · 2 years ago

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I may not have played the actual game in forever, but I’ve been thinking about all the side characters I’ve made up to live in Wayhaven.

Marle Starling hopped over from my other projects and decided to set down some roots for her and her daughter BB. No one knows she’s a witch, but they rave about the lemon bars she sells at her little tea shop and tells her they’re magical. Is best friends with Fiona, which means she’s also extremely close with Astrid. Her tea shop, Wren & Starling, is in a cozy spot close to the downtown area and makes a tidy amount of profit for being run by a Wayhaven outsider. She specializes in natural remedies that are cleared by the United Witches Guild to be sold to regular folk that are 99% just your run of the mill tea and herbal mixes with that little 1% magical zing added in to be extra effective. She also bakes all her treats and supplies honey fresh from the hives she keeps at home.

Bethany Beatrice Starling, better known as BB, Peanut, or Little Witchling (a nickname Adam gave her.) Precocious little first grader who knows all about the supernatural world since her adoptive mother is a witch, her unofficial aunt is fey, her own parents were something that Marle couldn’t quite put her finger on but never got the chance to find out, and she herself has the first few sparkles of witchy magic around her. Has a habit of looking for the biggest, meanest, scariest person in the room and imprinting on them, which is why she becomes Adam’s shadow and hangs out with “Mr. Mason” all the time. Loves when Astrid babysits because they stay up past her bedtime and watch scary movies while eating junk food.

Fiona, who doesn’t exactly live in Wayhaven, but she visits enough that the locals know of her. She’s Astrid’s childhood nanny/unofficial Chaos Aunt who introduced Astrid to the supernatural side of LARPing and HEMA as a young child as a way to work through general pent up energy/she’s an ancient fae being people used to revere as a sort of warrior goddess so she knows a good fighter when she sees one and basically would have swooped up and trained Astrid herself if she wasn’t taking care of her already. Astrid considers Fiona to be a mother to her, more so than her actual mom. Has called Astrid hee “wee beastie” since childhood after getting called in to pick her up from the principal’s office for biting a classmate and had to pretend to be upset until they left school, where she immediately took her out for ice cream and grudgingly told tiny!Astrid that biting was a last resort and to use her words instead during arguments. Has a lifelong frenemy relationship with Adam, who she can’t forgive about the whole Norman invasion thing. They schedule regular fights-to-the-almost-death and it IRKS her SO MUCH when she finds out about Astrid having a crush on her nemesis. She thought she raised her better than that.

Anthony (call me Tony) Morelli, the half witch, half fey lawyer who specializes in both supernatural and non-supernatural property law. Charming to a fault, obsessed with his hair, and loves the finer things in life. Considers Astrid one of his closest friends since she kicked his ass in a tournament when they were fifteen (or at least he LOOKED 15, his fey lineage means he ages differently than humans) and has been loyal ever since. Regularly visits Wayhaven to flirt with Tina (and everyone else) and sweep Astrid off her feet for a night in the Big City where they can dress fancy and have fun in ritzy restaurants and clubs. Has a daily video chat with Astrid and Markus, but often forgets that time zones exist and will text either of them at ungodly hours of the morning just because he wants to talk. He got her invested in the Italian Football League and the two of them will yell about their team throughout the season.

Markus Fisher, Astrid and Tony’s best friend who happens to be a werewolf. Owns his own security firm and has done some international jobs from installing surveillance equipment to bodyguard work. Was friends with Tony first, but became best friends with Astrid after she kicked Tony’s ass in a tournament when she was fifteen and he was seventeen. They’re two years apart in age, so he considers Astrid his little sister and has had her over at his home in Germany multiple summers growing up, which means that if you include Markus, Astrid picked up four older brothers, a sister her age, and a little brother who treat her like family. The two of them bond over their love for a long running German soap opera that’s been running since the 60s and they either hop on a chat to watch it together or they text the other right after they see the latest episode.

Unit Charlie, which is made up of Cameron Buchanan (selkie) the leader and research specialist, his former pining, now practically married combat specialist Penelope Fisher (werewolf, who happens to be Markus’ little sister), the infiltration specialist/tech guy Nicolo Morelli (cursed to never die, has died and come back too many times to count in his 300+ year long life. Also Tony’s grandpa, which explains the charming to a fault trait he inherited), and interrogation specialist Winona Adams (succubus from the Echo World, still trying to find her footing 3 years after arriving via accidentally falling into a rift)

Sir Cashew von Noodlesworth III, a calico cat that’s mostly long legs and oversized ears with one brain cell in his little noggin that he often uses to tell Astrid how much he loves her. Is a Shoulder Cat who will jump from high perches to ride on anyone’s shoulder that he likes and if she’s wearing a hoodie, will trust fall down into the hood to snuggle. Does not meow like a regular cat, but honks in different pitches like a bicycle horn. Astrid wasn’t looking for a cat when she adopted him, she was turning in a donation to the animal shelter that the station collected when she saw this tiny little baby with enormous ears and feet too big for his body repeatedly bonk his head on the cat room’s window while making squeaky little honks and went “that one. I’m adopting that one right there.” Cashie took one sniff at Adam’s shoes and launched himself at him, making friendly honks and headbutts while climbing him like a tree, much to the amusement of everyone else in the room. Adam pretends that he is neutral about him, but will be the first person to covertly sneak treats to him or pet him when no one’s looking.

#I miss these people #trying to work through a block to start picking at Astrid’s story again #and I’m thinking of including these guys in it too instead of sticking to strict canon story stuff #especially since Tony and Markus are giving Unit Bravo major side eye and everyone is acting like they’re normal for Astrid’s sake #and then after the big reveal it’s just a RELIEF that they can tell their best friend everything that they’ve been hiding from her #but there’s a little bit of a sting of ‘why didn’t you tell me’ with Fiona for all of maybe five minutes

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mysmeshc · 7 years ago

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Someone Tries to Flirt With MC While Her S/O is Standing Only a Few Feet Away

Yoosung - “Hey MC, I’ll be right back. I gotta use the bathroom.” Yoosung stood up, smiling at MC before walking to the back portion of the cafe you two were currently in - now you were alone, only the half eaten pastry in front of you to keep you company as you waited for your boyfriend to meet your acquaintance. -growing bored within the first few seconds, you picked up your phone to see who was in the group chat. -Zen, Jaehee, Jumin, and Seven were arguing about whether or not Elizabeth should have kittens. - As soon as you popped in though, they all greeted you warmly, before asking your opinion on the situation. -Before you could even answer the sound of a chair scraping against the floor caused you to jump and nearly drop your phone. -“Yoosung! Oh my goodness! You scared-” you were cut off by the fact that the man in front of you was NOT your Yoosung. -“Sorry to scare you, it’s just weird seeing a pretty girl like you all alone.” He was smooth, you will admit that, but he wasn’t your Yoosung. - “I’m sorry but i’m not actually alone, I’m with-” - “She’s with me.” - Oh boy - You knew that voice, and as happy as you were that your bby boy was back, you also knew that tone. - “Shit, dude, my bad. Didn’t mean to step in on your territory.” The guy looked like he was about to shit his pants as he shuffled away. - “Sorry about taking so long, babe! There was a line.” Yoosung sat in front of you, acting as if nothing ever happened, bright and bubbly. - But you knew - Oh did you know - That had that guy sat there a second longer blood would have been spilled. Zen - Today was a dress rehearsal and, as much as he wanted you to see the production only when it was perfect, you had convinced him to let you come with lots of hugs, kisses, and pouty faces. - You sat in the front row, right in the middle, so that you could have the BEST view of your boy as possible. - Zen was playing a Werewolf, having fallen in love with a girl wandering through the forrest. - Kind of like a musical adaption of Little Red Riding Hood (except u know no death lololol) - When the rehearsal ended you were almost in tears with how moving the performance was, and how proud you are of your boyfriend. - You practically sprinted backstage to see your boyfriend after the curtains closed, but while doing so you managed to bump into one of the secondary actors. - “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!!” you yelled as you helped him up. - the stranger merely brushed off his pants and grinned at you. - “Don’t be sorry, I just got to run into the most beautiful lady I’ve ever seen.” - Your face went blank as he went to kiss your hand, only to be nearly tackled to the ground by the man you had intended on seeing. - “What do you think you’re doing tryna kiss my girlfriend?!!” he grabbed the man by the collar and hoisted his face closer. - “S-Shit, man!! I didn’t know that was MC!!” he stuttered, trying to sound brave. You were mortified and began pulling your boyfriend off, struggling a bit seeing as he is twice your size. - “I’m so sorry. I’ll send you a gift basket later. Please excuse me” you yelled to the shaken up man as you dragged your now steaming with anger boyfriend away. - “Let me at him, MC! He can’t just go kissing random girls!! ESPECIALLY not MY girl!!” you rolled your eyes and placed him in his dressing room, where he proceeded to sit with his arms crossed muttering about “he was gonna get it” and “who does he think he is” - it was… actually kind of cute how protective he got. - You leaned down and grabbed both of his cheeks, making him look at you. - “Don’t worry, Zen. As long as I have my Big Bad Wolf to protect me, I’ll be fine.” You giggled, kissing his forehead. - He stared at you for only a second before pulling you onto his lap, earning a surprised help from you. - “Why don’t I show you how Big and Bad I can be?” He whispered in your ear. - You smiled, after all, more than ready to be his Little Red Riding Hood Jaehee - it was busier than usual in the coffee shop, so while you took orders, Jaehee made the drinks. - She trusted that you would manage it much better than her, because you were much better at being bubbly and friendly than she was. - But maybe, she wondered, you were too good. - Her question was answered when a girl around your age came to the cash register, and as soon as she looked at MC her face lit up. - oh no - jaehee is baehee not u - shoo - “Hi, what can I get you?” you asked, looking up to meet her sultry gaze. - “I want something really sweet.” She winked. - “Oh! Well our chocolate croissants are really sweet, but if you prefer a sweet drink then a Caramel Macchiato would be perfect for you!” - “Hmm… I want something sweeter.” She leaned in and Jaehee was currently crushing the drink she had just made in her hand. - Stay calm Jaehee - “Do you think I could just take you instead?” The girl winked at you. - Oh that’s it. - Baehee is stepping in. - “I’m sorry but MC is not for sale.” She stepped in, beaming smile that hid immeasurable anger. - “And who are you to decide that?” - oH WHO WAS SHE- - “My girlfriend.” MC cut in, dropping the kindness. “So if you can give me a real order, I can get that going for you as soon as possible so you leave quicker.” Her glare was sharp, and Jaehee was shook. - The girl walked away and MC smiled at Jaehee. “Sorry about that I-” Jaehee planted a very quick kiss on her cheek before returning the the drinks she had yet to make. - Mc smiled. -“My Baehee” Jumin - u were bored and hangryblemme tell ya - even tho u were snuggled up with ur fave Jujubee (hehehe) nothing could control your rumbling tummy. - “Can we go out to dinner? I’m starving and I’ve been home all day because you work 25 hours a day and 8 days a week.” You pouted as he chuckled, running his fingers through your hair before leaning down and kissing your forehead. - “That sounds marvelous, why don’t we go to the place near the Bay you’ve been wanting to go to?” Your smile took up your entire face when he suggested that. - You immediately jumped up, almost hitting Jumin in the head as you sprinted to your room to get ready. - Once you were ready, Jumin called Driver Kim, but you insisted that you two walk there since it wasn’t far from the penthouse and you would enjoy the fresh air. - How could Jumin say no to that face :’) - You both were halfway there when you passed a couple of guys hanging out by an alleyway - that is never a good thing to do - Jumin didn’t notice them as he was too busy telling you about his latest cat project. - i’m TELLING U mc cats NEED cufflinks!! - THEY DONT HAVE CUFFS TO LINK - THEN WE’LL MAKE THEM CUFFS TO LINK!!! - you two were discussing when out of the corner of your eye you saw the guys move off the wall - fantastic :) - "Ooh! Hey baby!! Why don’t you bring your sweet ass over here and i can show you a real good time!” - You turned your nose up at them as Jumin stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide and brows furrowed. - “Just ignore them Jumin…” you mumbled, pulling him to walk with you. - As soon as you passed them though the one who called you out stepped behind you and before you could even react slapped your ass so hard that you squeaked and jumped. - Oh boi - u dun diddly dun it now - Jumin straight up grabbed that guy’s arm before pinning him against the wall. - “You have just made the biggest mistake of your life trying to disrespect my wife like that. I swear to God I will kill you with my own damn hands and, trust me, I have the power to make it look like an accident.” - o SHIT - the guy was frozen in place and you could only imagine the terrifying look on your Cat Daddy’s face. - Jumin dropped him, and the guy tried to stand up quickly as to not deflate his macho - but as soon as he was up Jumin swung his fist around and nearly crushed his jaw. - o w o w - the other guy ran off screaming as Jumin walked back over to you, concerned etched over his once feral face. - “Darling, are you okay? I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you better…” - awe sad cat daddy :’( - “It’s okay! I’m fine, really. I think i might just have a bruise!” - Oh no angry cat daddy back - “I swear to God if you left a mark on my MC I will-!” it took all your strength to hold him back, the guy scampering away. - “YOU’RE LUCKY MY WIFE IS HOLDING ME BACK OR ELSE I WOULD DESTROY YOU!!! YOU SON OF A-” Jumin screamed some profanities as you looked apologetically towards the couples walking onto the other side of the street. - Even though jumin was usually very calm and level headed, he would get fired up while protecting you. - “Thank you, Jumin.” you kissed his cheek as soon as he had calmed down - For the rest of the way to the restaurant he had his arm tightly wrapped around your waist. - Protective bby jujubee :’) 707 - y'all were out of honey buddha chips - God 707 needed his hbc fix or he would get cranky :/ - So you, being the WONDERFUL gf you are, kept him company while you got another crate full. - it’d last you for about a week - he so fit how he do it when all he eat be shit - one of the 7 wonders of the world - you were in the dairy isle, grabbing some other things when the store clerk began to chat with you - okayy - who r u - “You’re getting that ice cream?? i love that flavor! We have so much in common!” - the guy followed you around like a lost puppy until it was finally time to purchase everything. - “Wow! It’s almost like we were meant to meet here, m'lady

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everlark-your-own-adventure · 7 years ago

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Mockingjay Manor - Ch 1

Revived from the dead after a wee bit of technical difficulty... Welcome to round two of everlark-your-own-adventure!

We kick this round off in style, courtesy of the hilarious and talented @burkygirl (with an assist from @xerxia31). You have 48 hours to vote on the direction of the next chapter of the story (until noon EDT on Thursday, August 31st). Remember: vote in the comments, not in the tags! And don’t forget to spread the word by reblogging. The more fans playing this game, the more fun it will be!

My skirt is crawling up again. I twitch it back into place and shift uncomfortably in my chair in the lawyer’s office. I’m not sure why I’m here, really. Haymitch Abernathy was my uncle, but mostly he was just an annoying pain in my ass who spent family diners criticizing my decisions from the other side of his highball glass.

So when his lawyer called after his funeral and said my presence was needed at the reading of his will, I was floored. At best, Haymitch only tolerated me. Why in God’s name he’d leave anything to me while that crazy wife of his had her claws firmly clenched on the wallet where he kept his dotcom millions was a complete mystery. I’d immediately decided not to go. The lawyer could call me later.

The reason for my change of mind is sitting right beside me, holding my hand and projecting an aura of confidence while Effie, Haymitch’s wife, covertly sneaks glances in our direction and thinly veils her irritation at our presence.

Peeta convinced me that it was disrespectful to not attend the reading if I’d been asked to be there, but honestly, I think he just wanted a front seat to the drama. The corner of his mouth twitches every time he catches Aunt Effie staring at us. If she was only looking at him, I’d understand. My boyfriend, with his brawny physique and golden hair, looks hot in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but he’s devastating in his navy sports jacket, white shirt and orange tie. He shifts in his chair and winks at me. The shit. He’s loving every second of Eff-zilla’s reaction to our attendance.

I don't have time to give him the flinty-eyed stare of death he deserves though, because Haymitch’s lawyer, Plutarch Heavensbee, enters the room. Aunt Effie immediately dissolves into paroxysms of grief, bawling into the shoulder of her “best friend” Seneca Crane. Her blonde updo bobbles as her surgically altered chest heaves. It's ridiculous. The man is in the ground. It makes no sense to pretend she loved him more than she loved his money at this point. Then again, Aunt Effie has always been all about keeping up appearances.

Peeta leans over to me. “How much do you wanna bet Seneca knows Effie’s natural hair colour?” For putting that revolting picture in my mind, I ignore the lawyer's presence and shoot Peeta the death glare on full power. He just snickers.

Plutarch pats Aunt Effie on the shoulder as he passes by and then settles down at his desk before perching a pair of reading glasses on the end of his bulbous nose.

“Ah, yes, let's see. The Last Will and Testament of Haymitch Harold Abernathy. I, Haymitch Harold Abernathy, being of sound mind and body, declare that this is my last will and Testament.” Heavensbee reads through all of the preamble that appoints him as executor and gives him the ability to pay any outstanding debts, defend the estate from lawsuits, blah, blah blah. I tune most of it out, but Aunt Effie is definitely listening, batting her fake eyelashes at the lawyer who continues to drone on. Peeta’s eyes glaze over as well, his thumb idly stroking the back of my hand.

Heavensbee clears his throat bringing all eyes back on him. The red tips of Aunt Effie’s fingernails clutch at her purse.

“To my wife, Euphemia Trinket Abernathy, I bequeath the home we shared on Merchant Street in Capitol City, and all of its contents.” Aunt Effie beams and Seneca wraps his arm around her and gives her a squeeze. Plutarch continues. “All of my remaining assets including stocks, bonds and properties are to be liquidated with the exception of Mockingjay Manor, located at 1212 Seam Street in Panem. I leave fifty percent of the liquidated funds to my wife as this is the amount I would have been required to pay her upon our divorce.”

A squawk of outrage fills the room. Aunt Effie jumps to her feet. “He cannot have been of sound mind when he made this will. I will contest it!”

Plutarch levels a stare at Aunt Effie that has Seneca shushing her and urging her back into her chair. When she’s quiet again, he resumes. “I also leave my wife a copy of the results of an investigation by Boggs and Jackson Private Investigation Services and I remind her that the dining room table is mahogany and deserved better treatment than it received in those photos.”

Aunt Effie’s hands are shaking when she accepts the envelope from Plutarch. When Seneca tries to console her, she slaps him with it. Peeta bites down on his lip while his shoulders shake in mirth and I slap my hand over my mouth, unsuccessfully feigning shock and laughing behind it instead. Aunt Effie doesn’t notice. The woman is so angry, I swear she’s grinding her teeth into sharp points.

Plutarch turns to me. “I bequeath Mockingjay Manor to my favourite niece, Katniss Everdeen, along with five hundred thousand dollars for its repair and restoration. Should she be successful in so doing, the remaining fifty per cent of my estate, less the renovation money, shall pass to her. If she refuses my offer or is unable to complete the restoration in six months, the remainder of my estate shall pass to my wife.”

Peeta is whispering to me excitedly, but I can’t hear him. My heart is in my throat. Half a million dollars. A house. More if I can renovate it in six months. My mouth is full of cotton and my mind is whirling. Aunt Effie swirls towards the door in a cloud of perfume and fury. The woman needs a cape. Or a broomstick.

“You will be hearing from my lawyer, Plutarch,” she threatens.

Plutarch, who is holding the door for her, sighs. “Effie, Haymitch’s estate is worth well over a hundred million dollars. You have been very well provided for, and if Katniss is unsuccessful in her project you will receive it all.” She harrumphs one last time and then she’s gone.

By the time Plutarch reaches my side I’m having a fully flown panic attack. Peeta is rubbing my back and reminding me to breathe. Fifty million dollars? What the hell am I going to do with that much money? Right now, I’d be lucky to have fifty bucks in the bank.

Plutarch hands me an envelope. “Here is the deed to the house and a letter from your uncle. I suggest you read it over, and let me know your decision.”

I don’t open the envelope until I get to Peeta’s car.

“That was crazy. Are you feeling better?” he asks.

My head is still shaking ‘no’ when I rip into Haymitch’s letter:

Sweetheart,

We’re enough alike that I’m sure you’re still processing my decision to leave you the house. It’s true that you’re my favourite. I wouldn’t have given you so much grief if I didn’t like you. Mockingjay Manor was my first home, purchased with my first wife Maysilee, who died before you were born. After her death, I closed up the house and walked away. I need you to go back there and make things right for me. You’re the only person I know who’s strong enough to see it through. Take the boy. He’ll help you survive it.

Stay alive,

Haymitch

It’s just like Haymitch to write a letter like that. I’m not even surprised that he cooked up this kooky plan, just that he dragged me into it. I hand the letter to Peeta, who reads it in silence.

“What are you going to do?”

I tell him the only thing I know for sure. “We’re going to fix it.”

----EYOA----

“I used to be a werewolf, but I’m alright now-ow-ow-ow!” Our friend Finnick leans out the window of the car to howl at the full moon hanging high in the sky.

“Finnick, put your head in the car, are you crazy?”

“Not today,” he laughs, but gets back inside. “How much farther to this palace you inherited?”

Peeta checks the GPS. “Almost there.”

“Thank fuck,” complains Johanna, our other friend, who’s sharing the backseat with Finn. “Remind me again why I’m here?”

“Cause you’re hoping that when I’m a millionaire, I’ll share,” I remind her.

Johanna nods knowingly. “Ah yes, that is exactly why I’m doing this.”

Peeta turns onto Seam Street. “Watch for 1212, will you?”

The houses are older, but well kept, set far back from the road and surrounded by trees and gardens. The numbers jump rapidly. Eight hundred. Nine hundred. High on a hill, I spot a large white mansion with Grecian-style pillars and a manicured lawn that slopes gently toward the road. Rose bushes dot its landscape, their cloying stench wafting through the car’s open windows. Then the road bends sharply to the left, and the streetlamps disappear, leaving only the crappy headlights of Peeta’s ancient Jeep to cut through the gloom. “What the hell?” Finnick stops his song to curse. Peeta slows down to a crawl as the lights glint off a huge iron gate ahead of us in the darkness.

“I think this is it,” Peeta murmurs. Four moss-coated numbers hang precariously from the ornate but unlatched gate. One-two-one-two. He takes a deep breath before pulling through the entrance and down the driveway.

A huge manor house emerges from the shadows ahead of us, easily large enough to hold ten of the houses I was raised in. Unlike the other houses on Seam Street though, it exudes an air of abandonment and neglect. A deep shudder runs down my spine.

“Feels like something out of a Hitchcock movie,” Johanna grouses, but her normally acerbic tone has been tempered by obvious discomfort. I can’t help but agree. This place is definitely creepy.

The Jeep rolls to a stop at the base of a wide stone staircase, overgrown and crumbling in places. “Well,” Peeta says, and even he sounds apprehensive. “Here we are.” But no one moves. For several long moments, we all stare out the front window at the mansion on the hill. Once upon a time it must have been a beautiful home, with its wide porch and gorgeous stonework. But now it’s a wreck, dark and foreboding.

I’m starting to doubt that Haymitch left me this place because I was his favourite, and wondering if instead it was his idea of getting one last laugh at my expense. “I don’t know about this,” I mumble, finally giving voice to my unease. Beside me, Peeta huffs out a half laugh.

“Come on, Kat. We drove all this way. Let’s at least look around.” He sounds even less convinced than I do. Neither Finnick nor Jo are jumping in with encouragement either.

I could turn back now, pocket the restoration money and forget this crazy idea entirely. Five hundred thousand would go a long way with the simple way Peeta and I live. But if I do, then Effie gets the rest of Haymitch’s millions, which she definitely doesn't deserve.

It's a tough choice. Do we check out the house, despite my trepidation? Or do I forfeit a chance at fifty million dollars and get the hell out of this place?

#everlark #EYOA #mockingjay manor #reposted #tumblr gremlins ate the original #spooky #vote vote vote #everlark your own adventure

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